matter whether I had a writ in my pocket or not, as they were always expecting them, the thing was just the same. I mind one day I was returning from a road-sessions, and the devil a strap I had with me, good or bad, for I had forgot my pocket-book on the table. Well, as I was passing Dick Grady's, I thought I would make a call. I rode into the yard, and when a fellow spied me he bolted into the house, and, as the window was open, I heard what was passed.

"Oh, murder!' says the helper. Shawn Crughadore's in the yard.'

"May the divil welcome him!' says the master; there's trouble comin when he's at hand. But, bad luck to him! we must be civil,' and out he comes. Jack, my darlin, but I'm delighted to see you.'

"Are ye?' says I, with a wink-as much as to say, don't be overjoyed until ye know my errand.'

"Won't ye alight and refresh yerself?" says he.

"I don't care,' says I, if I stop and feed the horse.' So in we goes.

“Take yer drink, Shawn astore,' says Dick, and don't talk of business at present. I hear they're badly off about ye- -slip that five-pound into the poor-box next Sunday.'

"I put the bank-notes into my pocket quietly. Arrah then, Dick, dear, since ye're so charitable,' says I, we'll let things stand as they are for a month or two.'

Well, my next visit was to Ned Kirwan's, a mile or two farther on. The moment I was seen riding down the avenue there was a general alarm. Ned cut out of the back-door, and took the bog like a grayhound-and when I lighted, I was smuggled into the parlour. Presently, in comes Mrs. Kirwan-locks the door upon us and plumps down upon her knees to ask for mercy.

"Oh, murder! Mr. Ryan,' says she, 'ye have children yerself, and you wouldn't be the ruin of poor Biddy.'

"Me ruin poor Biddy!' says I.

the devil a such notion's in my head.'

'Arrah,

"Ye don't know my manin,' says she. 'There's a half-witted sort of a militia officer courtin our little girl in the front parlour, and we have persuaded him she'll have a fortune at her father's death; but if you drive us1 till after the marriage, why we'll be destroyed tee-totally. The devil as much money's in the house at present as would buy a breakfast; but, God bless ye, take a couple of bullocks, and give us time till after the fair of Foxford.'

"For fear of spoiling Biddy's match with the ommadawn they had humbugged, I agreed, and retired under a shower of blessings richer by two bullocks and five pounds—and of all days in the year, I was on that one as harmless as a travelling boccagh. But see, isn't that ould Father Thady turning down the road? There was a time when he would have been

afraid to have met me-but as the old fellow was considered not worth powder and shot, the writ was never renewed, and is out of date these four years. Who knows but I'll knock a trifle out of his reverence for all that?"

My curiosity was excited: the sub-sheriff bundled out of the gig with an alacrity that surprised me. I followed-and the horse was committed to the care of two peasants we had encountered accidentally.

We walked forward to meet the priest. As far as evil spirits went, Father Thady had the character of being a game man, and it was affirmed that he did not value his satanic majesty a traneeine. Everybody is best in his vocation-and, although Thady had cleared two haunted houses of the devil, and cared for neither "white spirits or gray," in the course of my life I never witnessed such mortal alarm as the poor priest betrayed, when he unexpectedly encountered the sub-sheriff. The latter, in military parlance, took the initiative.

"Arrah! ye unfortunate ould man-what sins have ye committed that drove ye this mornin in my way?"

"Oh, murder, murder!" was the response; "I'm fairly ruined, I suppose. Arrah-Mr. Ryan, jewel-ye might spare me for this

once ?"

66

Spare ye!" returned the upper hangman, indignantly; "there's ingratitude-haven't I kept out of your way these four years?"

"Oh! the gates of glory be open to ye, but ye have but just this once," continued the old man, imploringly.

"Arrah, do ye want to ruin me?-don't ye see it's impossible? Is it let ye go in the presence of them two bailiffs, come down special from Dublin?"

"Oh! then," said the old man, with a groan, "there's nothing for it but to rot in jail-och, willis thrue! Bad luck attend that thief of a nephew that brought his poor uncle

to this!"

"Amen!" responded the sub-sheriff; "but