door of my apartment made me close the book, and say "Come in!" The door slowly opened; but, as nobody entered, I demanded "Who's there?"

"It's me, masther; Darby, yir honor."-"What do you want?" inquired I.-"Nothing, sir," said he, "but I've got a letther for ye, sir."-"From whom ?" said I.-" Faix, I don't know, sir," replied he archly; "for I haven't read it yit; but here it is."-" Why don't you come in and give it to me?" demanded I.—“I'm afraid, sir,” said he, "that my brogues would dirty the carpet, and set all the girls in the kitchen a-laughing at me for comin' into the drawin'-room; and sure a purtier room a man need never wish to come into."-"Oh! very well," said I, rising; "you shall have your way, Darby."—" Am 1 to wait for an answer, sir?" said he, giving me the letter." No," replied I; "I'll ring if it be necessary."-"Thank yir honor," said Darby, and turned to descend the stairs with the furtive caution of a cat when stealing upon its prey, lest he should make his brogues audible. A loud crash, succeeded by a louder laugh, through which I distinctly heard "Merry bad look to yiz all!" convinced me that Darby's coming up stairs with the letter was a contrivance of the other servants to play some trick upon him, which their merriment seemed to show had succeeded; but into which as I did not care to inquire, I sate down, opened my letter, and began to read. I had not proceeded far before I found it related to business of the most serious consequence, and required that I should write instanter to a friend, who was on a visit at Bally—, (nearly forty miles distant across the country,) and have an answer by immediate return of post. There was no time to be lost; so I wrote my letter as speedily as possible, folded, sealed, and directed it, then rang the bell with unusual impatience. It was promptly answered; but this time there was no knock at the door before it opened, for it was Eileen, my usual attendant, that presented herself, with a face whose natural health, cheerfulness, and rustic beauty were considerably heightened by the flush of recent merriment.

"What have you been doing with Darby, Eileen?" said I.—“ Oh, widdy-celish!" (her constant ejaculation) said she laughing, “nothing at all, sir; only he said he wanted to see the drawin'-room, so we sent him up with the letter, and he slipped his foot as he came down, sir; that's all." You know I don't like those tricks, Eileen," said I, with all the severity I could muster against her smothered laughter.

"No, sir; I know, sir; but when an omadhaun like that—”—" Silence!" said I. "I want to send a letter by the post: what o'clock is it?"-" Half an hour too late, sir," said Eileen, resuming her gravity; "and there'll be no post to-morrow."-" No post to-morrow !" echoed I." No, sir; to-morrow's Saturday, you know."-" Confusion!" said I, "it will be so indeed. What's to be done?"-"I don't know, sir," replied Eileen despondingly; "how far is it?"-"Oh! nearly forty miles across the country," cried I;" and I want an answer immediately."—"Can't Darby run across with it?" said Eileen.— "Run across with it!" cried I; "is the girl out of her senses? Run across forty miles, as if it were nothing more than a hop-step-andjump!"—"He'll do it in that same, sir," said Eileen seriously, "if ye'll only tell him what it is."-"Who 'll do it?" cried I impatiently. Why, Darby, sir," said she; “Darby in the kitchen, that's known

all the country round for Darby the Swift."-" What!" cried I," that fellow that brought me the letter just now? Impossible!""" "_"There's nothing impossible to God, sir, you know,-glory be to his name!" said Eileen," and so the crathur has the gift of it: he'll do it, I warrant ye." I looked up in Eileen's face, and saw there was something beyond common opinion pleading for Darby; so, waiving all farther parley, I desired her to go down stairs and send him to me instantly. Eileen curtsied, and, retiring, shut the door; but immediately opened it again, saying "You don't want him the night, sir, do ye? for," added she with a loud laugh, "I think he has broken his shin-bone." "Send him to me immediately," said I peremptorily; upon which Eileen, exclaiming "Oh, widdy-eelish!" made her exit.

Now it was evident from her last words that Eileen, in conjunction with others, had done some injury to poor Darby in their gambols; but as he is just coming up stairs, and will make a long pause before he presumes to knock at the door a second time, allow me, gentle reader, ad interim, to present you with a portrait of my servant, or follower, "DARBY RYAN," nick-named "The Swift."

Darby Ryan was about thirty years of age, middle-sized, not over stout, and tolerably well made. His hair, both in texture and tint, resembled the raddled back of a fawn-coloured goat, and waved in shaggy luxuriance everywhere save on his forehead, in the middle of which it timidly descended in a close-cropped peak, till it nearly united itself with two enormous dark-coloured eyebrows. His eyes were small, and the blackest I have ever seen; with a gleam of fire occasionally, that lent them more archness than ferocity. Some thought he squinted, and said that, though under one master's direction, his two pupils went contrary ways; but I believe this was all slander, and only set forth by jealous people, who themselves, it is said, are rather queer in their optics. A fracas in a hurling-match had left his nose little more than a one-arched bridge, by which, if you please, we will pass along to his mouth, where, if I had the time, I could find ample room for rumination, &c. But Darby has knocked at my door, and I am forced to say "Come in!"-"Did yir honor want me, sir? or is it only the caileen's fun, and the rest of them, in the kitchen?" said Darby, opening the door, but remaining outside as before. "Come in," said I encouragingly, "and take a seat for a moment; I'll tell you what I want with you." The girl's fears for the carpet were quite right; for Darby, making a bow to me on his entrance, scraped about a pound of mud off his brogues, which would have discomfited him quite if I had not proceeded with "Do you know the road to Bally? Can you find your way to it safely, Darby?" "Can a duck swim, yir honor ?" said Darby, emboldened by degrees. "Oh! very well, I understand you," said I. "Now, mark me: I want you to take this letter to a friend of mine, who is on a visit with the clergyman there, and bring me an answer as speedily as possible. Are you so quick-footed as they say?"

"Quick-futted!" said Darby, seating himself on the very corner of the nearest chair; "where there's a will there's a way, as the sayin' is: but I was never counted slow anyhows but oncet, and that was when I made the clock stop of its own accord on a Patrick's Day, and sure, when we broke up our party, we found it was two days afterwards."

"Well, take care and be more sparing of your time for the present," said I, anxious to despatch him.

"You may rely on it, sir," said he; "I'll spare nather time nor trouble in the doin' of it, although it is letter-carryin'."

"Letter-carrying!" said I; "and pray what is there disgraceful in the calling?"

"Oh! nothing at all disgraceful in the calling, sir," said Darby, "as yir honor says, but quite the reverse, if the letters are not paid aforehand."

"You would not surely appropriate the postage to yourself?" said I, looking severely, though I did not exactly comprehend him.

"Is it me, sir?-Poperiate the king's pocket money in that way, poor ould gentleman! I'm not in parliament yet, nor ever had a fine situation under government, like yir honor."

"Be not impertinent, sir," said I sharply; "I'd have you know and keep your distance." Darby rose immediately from the chair, of which about this time he had occupied nearly one half, saying,

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Any distance you like for a short time, sir; for it's myself would grieve to part you for ever. What's the word of command, sir, and I'm off? Right or left, north or south, Darby Ryan's yir man 'gainst wind or tide, as was said of one of my posteriors

"Your ancestors you mean," said I smiling.

"My aunt's sisters, yir honor! Faith and he wasn't one of her sisters, nor one of my four fathers either, for he was neither my godfather, nor my own father, nor my grandfather, nor my great-grandfather; but, as I said afore, one of my pos-pos-pos-terity, (I have the word now, divil take it!) that was christened RYAN THE Racer, for bein' runnin' futtman ages ago to the first quality in the country."

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By this time I began to perceive that, however quick Darby's heels might be, they had a formidable rival in his tongue; so I endeavoured to check it at once by saying, "I have no time now to attend to any stories about your ancestry or relations; I merely wish to know can you take this letter to its direction, and speedily bring me an answer to it in a word, can you set out immediately, and travel all night?" "All night, yir honor! is it all night that's in yir mind?" said Darby, evidently hurt at my inquiry: "Gog's blud!" he continued half apart, "I was never taken for a turkey afore."-" A turkey!" said I, quite at a loss to understand him." Yes, yir honor," said Darby, a turkey-the very worst baste on the road for a long stretch (barrin' his neck) that ever was christened! Did yir honor ever hear of the wager 'tween the goose and him?"-" Never," said I sullenly." Then I'm glad of it, masther," said Darby rejoicingly, "for it gives me the pleasure of tellin' it to yir honor. You see, sir, that oncet upon a time there was an ould cock-turkey-"-" Cock and a bull!" said I, losing all patience: "go down stairs! I don't want you at all."" No, sir; I know you don't, sir," said Darby with most provoking perseverance; "but I thought ye 'd like to hear how an ould gander sarved the bull-turkey, big as he was."-" Well, then," said I in despair, "go on."-" Thank ye, sir," said Darby, and then continued, while I from time to time anxiously looked at my watch, stirred the fire, or fidgeted myself in twenty different ways, in the hope of interrupting him; but all to no purpose. "Then you see, sir, oncet upon a time an ould cock-turkey lived in the barony of

Brawny, or, let me see, was it in Inchebofin, or Tubbercleer ?-faix! an' it's myself forgets that same at the present writin',-but Jim Gurn-you know Jim Gurn, yir honor, Jim Gurn the nailor that lives hard by,-him that fought his black and tan t' other day 'gainst Tim Fagan's silver-hackle,-oh! Jim is the boy that 'll tell ye the ins and outs of it any day yir honor wud pay him a visit, 'caze Jim's in the way of it. Well, as I was relatin', the turkey was a parson's bird, and as proud as Lucifer, bein' used to the best of livin'; while the gander was only a poor commoner, for he was a Roman, and oblidged to live upon what he could get by the road-side. These two fowls, yir honor, never could agree any how,-never could put up their horses together on any blessed pint,-till one day a big row happened betwune them, when the gander challenged the turkey to a steeplechase across the country, day and dark, for twenty-four hours. Well, to my surprise,-tho' I wasn't there at the time, but Jim Gurn was, who gave me the whole history, to my surprise, the turkey didn't say no to it, but was quite agreeable all of a suddent; so away they started from Jim Gurn's dunghill one Sunday after mass, for the gander wouldn't stir a step afore prayers. Well, to be sure, to give the divil his due, the turkey took the lead in fine style, and was soon clane out of sight; but the gander kept movin' on, no ways downhearted, after him. About night-fall it was his business to pass through an ould archway acrass the road; and as he was stoopin' his head to get under it,-for yir honor knows a gander will stoop his head under a doorway if it was only as high as the moon,-who should he see comfortably sated in an ivy bush but the turkey himself, tucked in for the night. The gander, winkin' to himself, says, 'Is it there ye are, honey?'-but he kept never mindin' him for all that, but only walked bouldly on to his journey's end, where he arrived safe and sound next day, afore the turkey was out of his first sleep: 'caze why, ye see, sir, a goose or a gander will travel all night; but in respect of a turkey, once the day falls in, divil another inch of ground he'll put his futt to, barrin' it's to roost in a tree or the rafters of a cow-house! Oh! maybe the parson's bird wasn't ashamed of himself! Jim Gurn says he never held his head up afterward, tho' to be sure he hadn't long to fret, for Christmas was nigh at hand, and he had to stand sentry by the kitchen fire one day without his body-clothes 'till he could bear it no longer; so they dished him intirely. Them that ett him said he was as tough as leather, no doubt from the grief: but, divil's cure to him! what bisness had he to be so proud of himself, the spalpeen!"

Darby at length came to a pause. I paused also for a minute to understand the application of his anecdote; but it was evident: he wished to impress me by his parable that he was fitted for the task I had allotted him; so I inquired what money he would want on the road.

Maybe yir honor wouldn't think half-a-crown too much?" said he diffidently.

"Half-a-crown!" exclaimed I, amazed at the modesty of his demand: "here are ten shillings; and, if you be quick in your errand, I will give you something extra on your return."

"Musha, an' long life to yir honor!" said Darby, scraping the carpet again; "may the grass never grow on the pathway to yir dwell

in', nor a baste or Christian ever die belongin' t' ye, barrin' it's for the use of the kitchen!"

"Well, off at once."

now prepare for the road," said I impatiently, "and be "An' that I will, sir, in the twinklin' of a bedstead; only, you see, I've just got to run up to Tim Fallon the barber's to take the stubble off of my chin. Tim-(you know Tim Fallon, yir honor,)-Tim won't keep me long, anyhow, for it 's late in the day, and his tongue must be dry by this; but if ye wud hear him of a mornin', oh! it's a trate, for Tim was once a play-acthur afore he grew a barber, an' by that same a good barber he is. Did he ever lather yir honor?" -I made no reply. "After that," continued Darby, "I'll just step home and put on my Sunday clothes, and then won't I be as fresh as a two-year ould to do yir honor's biddin'!"

"Well, well, lose no time," said I impatiently.

"Sorrow a minute," said Darby: "I'll be there and back agin in the shoot of a wishin' star. Maybe yir honor knows what a wishin' star is?"-I shook my head. "Well, then," continued Darby, "yir honor, no doubt, has been out o' doors of a fine starlight night ?"I nodded assent. "Well then, agin, I'll tell ye what a wishin' star is. Did ye ever sit yir heart upon havin' of anything, sir?" "Yes," said I morosely." Might I be so bould as to ax in regard to what, sir ?" inquired Darby." Why, in regard, as you call it, to the letter I have given you just now," replied I; "I wish to have it delivered as quickly as possible."

"Oh! that bein' the case, sir," said Darby somewhat disconcerted, "I'm off at once."-" At once be it, then," said I, opening the door for him. "I've only, then, to give the letther, sir," said he lingeringly, "to the gentleman at the clargy's? But ye didn't tell ine whether it was the priest or the parson he's stoppin' with."— "The parson," said I, with all the patience I could command.-" Oh, very well, sir. God take care of ye till I come back!" So saying, he shut the door after him; but, before I could seat myself in my chair, he opened it again, inquiring "If he left his hat in the drawinroom?" The only answer I made was by taking up the caubeen, which lay on the carpet, and flinging it in his face, out of all patience. "Thank yir honor," said Darby, and retired again, as I hoped, to proceed on his journey. But, alas! I was mistaken. Five minutes had scarcely elapsed when he presented himself once more, with a request that I might allow him to take Squib, my pointer dog, with him as a companion. "The road 's so drary," said he, "by one's self, you know, yir honour."—"Well, take him, in God's name," said I, hastily shutting the door after him, and glad to be rid of him at any concession.

I again resumed my seat, and opened the volume I had been reading; but I had not got through more than twenty or thirty pages of marvellous matter, when I thought I heard Darby's voice in the yard. On going to the window, I found that it was indeed he, and as spruce as a Scotch fir," to use one of his own expressions.

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"Not gone yet!" exclaimed I, furiously throwing up the sash. But it was of no use, for he replied with the most perfect coolness, “Oh, yes, sir, I was gone half an hour ago; only, you see, I've come back for the clieve that's to carry Squib to the place where he 'll find