Every body that iver rode to a fox-hound, knows that it's the pace that kills; and, for two miles, Dick and I crossed the country neck and neck, takin' every thing in stroke as the Lord sent it. No wonder, when we came to a cross-road, that both were dead baten, and that Dick called out, for the love of God, to stop for a minute or two that we might get second wind for a fresh start. Down we sate upon the ditch; and when I got breath enough, I began to abuse Dick Macnamara like a pickpocket.. 66 Arrah," says I, "what sins have I committed, that I'm to be ruinated through you? If iver the divil had a fast hould of a sinner, it's yourself, Dick! Was there iver a man so asily put in the ready way to make a fortune? Wasn't the lady med out-the rough work done—and sorra thing for you to do, but sit like a gintleman quietly in the chaise, pay yer lady some tender attention, and keep her mouth stuffed with a pocket-handkerchif. And how beautiful ye put your fut in it! Oh, Holy Joseph!-to run away with a tradesman's wife, and the mother of five childer into the bargain!" He began mutterin' something about a mistake, and talked about blue bonnets and yalla ones. "What are we to do?" says I, interruptin' him. "Arrah, have done wid yer balderdash an' yer bonnets;-havn't ye made a pretty gommogue of yerself? Where are we to head to? and how are we to chate the gallows? Blessed Bridget!-to be hanged in the flower of my youth, for runnin' away with the mother of a family!" Before I had done spakin', we hears a carriage comin' up at splittin' speed. We ducked into the ditch to let it pass-and at one look I knew it to be the very chay we had brought with us on our unfortunit expedition. The horses had run off; and as they passed us at a gallop, we heard the tailor's wife shoutin' a thousand murders. "Arrah! what's to be done at all at all," says I, as the carriage cantered on. "I haven't the ghost of a rap about me. have you, Dick ?" What money "Five or six shillins," says he, "to pay the turnpikes, and a light guinea for the marriage money." "Ah, then, ye won't require it, Dick, avourneeine," says I. "Any little job in future ye want from the clargy, they'll trate ye to it for nothin'. It's a comfort when a man comes to the gallows, that he's provided with a priest." But what need I bother ye with all the misfortune that kem over us? Half the time we lay out in barns, or under hay-stacks; for if we ventured into the parlour of a public-house, the divil a thing ye would hear talked of but the attempt upon the tailor's wife-with a reward of fifty pound for the intended murderers, and a description of their persons. At last we were fairly worn out with hunger and fatigue, without a shoe to our feet, or a scurrick in our pockets, and nothing was left for us but to list. Accordingly, we joined the first party that we met, and the sergeant gave us plinty of entertainment, and two pound a • Anglice-an idiot. man. We were to be attested the next mornin'; but as he didn't like our looks, he put us in the room where the corplar slept, and took care to lock the door carefully behind him. I guessed as much, and, feaks, I determined the divil another yard we would keep company, if I could help it; and maybe I didn't succeed? When we were locked in, I produces a bottle of rum, and the corplar-who was a drunken divil-and I finished it by moonlight, hand to fist. I lifts him into bed blind drunk; and when the house was quiet, I wakens Dick Macnamara, and we opened the windy fair and asy, and lowered ourselves by the blankets to the ground. We travelled night an' day-exchanged our clothes for stable-jackets—and at last, we had the luck to be taken into the yard of an inn, and there get employment as helpers-and when at Killerogher they thought we were travellin' homeward in our own coach, it's most likely we were grazing the wheels of his chay for some travellin' bagman. Well, Dick was wispin' a horse-and the only two things in this world he could do dacently was to warm one after a fox, and wisp him dry afterwards-when in comes one of a recruitin' party to ask some question about his officer. When he went away I says to Dick in Irish "The divil welcome the last visitor. Wheniver I see a bunch of ribbons in a sodger's cap, I always get a start, and think that it's one of the lads we listed with, that's comin' to look after his own." "Feaks! an' I'm not overly asy in their company ather," says Dick back to me and him and I continues talkin' and laughin' at how stupid the corplar looked in the mornin', when he found an open windy and an empty bed. "And so," says a voice at our elbow, "ye gave his majesty legbail, boys!" We gave a start, and looked round, and who was standin' close to us but a little dark-visaged gentleman, with a twist in the eyes that didn't improve him much-and by the whole look of him, the very last man you would meet in a day's walk, that ye would borrow money to spend in company with. 66 You may be sure that Dick and I were scared enough. "Egad," thought I, we are ketched at last, and this dark divil will split upon us-and then the first march will be to the black-hole for desarchin'; and the second, to the gallows, for the murder of a tailor's wife, only that we didn't kill her. Well, I struv to put it off as a joke, but the wee black fellow was too deep for it; and he spoke the best of Irish too. "Badershin!" says he, with a wink of one of his quare eyes, "Tiggum tigue Tiggeeine!"* It won't do, boys, I'm not in the recruitin' line, so ye needn't be afeerd of me. But, as ye have been on the tramp, in the coorse of yer rambles did ye happen to hear anything about Sir Richard Macnamara ?” Be the powers of pewter! the question made us start. * These terms being rendered into common English, mean—“ Be quiet-you can't humbug me." "No, Sir," says I; "but if you had inquired after ould Sir Thomas, I could have given ye a better answer.' "What Sir Thomas ?" says he. "Why, what other, but Sir Thomas of Killcrogher ?" "Divil a such a man lives there," says he. "Nabochish!" says I; him ?" 66 maybe I wasn't bred and born under "That may be true," says he; "it's Sir Richard I want to see. I wouldn't give a traneeine to be in company with Sir Thomas." "Ah! then," says I, "what wouldn't I give to be cheek-be-jowl with the ould gentleman." " for if ye "Divil have the liars !" says the wee fellow in return; had y'er wish, ye would have a ton weight of lime and mortar on the top of ye." "Christ stan' between us and evil!" says I, crossin' myself. "You don't mane that he's dead ?" "Faith an' if he's not," says the wee black fellow, "they have takin' a great liberty with him, for they buried him in Killcrogher on Tuesday week—and I have been tatterin' over half England in search of his son. Be the Lord !" says he, “ ye might as well grip hould of a Banshee.* For all the tidings I could get of him was, that a ruffin, called Shemus Rhua, ran off with a tailor's wife; and he, the villin, persuaded the good-natured young gentleman to follow him.” Well, who should the little man be but a lawyer sent in pursuit of Dick; and, without delay, we set off for home; and, when we got there, said as little about England as we could. It was supposed that Sir Richard might have cleared Killcrogher if he had taken the right way; but he set up a pack of fox-hounds, and married a dashin' lady because that she could ride to them to fortune. A few years settled the busnis-and what Sir Thomas had begun Sir Richard cliverly complated. The dogs were sent adrift, the horses canted by the sheriff, my lady boulted with a light dragoon, and, to finish all, one wet mornin', poor Dick was brought home upon a door, dead as a herrin'. There's not one stone standin' on the other at Killcrogher; and of one of the ouldest and the best estates within the province, there's not a sod of it now in possession of a man of the name of Macnamara. * The Banshee is a spirit attached to old Irish families, who foretells deaths and other calamities by melancholy wailings before they occur. He is never seen. Phy. He's scarce awake-Let him alone awhile Lear. Where have I been '-where am I?-fair daylight? SHAKESPEARE. WITH pleasant and profitable reminiscences of burglary and abduction, Shemus Rhua entertained the fosterer on the road, until the worthy twain accomplished their journey in perfect safety, and ensconced themselves, as we mentioned before, in that safe and salubrious section of the Modern Babylon, supposed to be under the immediate protection of St. Patrick, and the especial surveillance of the police, vulgarly ycleped the Seven Dials. There we shall leave them to recover from the fatigues incident to a migration, au pied, from "the far west," until, like giants refreshed, they should find themselves ready for a fresh start upon the world, to try, as the rat-catcher philosophically remarked, "their fortunes-any how." I need scarcely say that I availed myself of Mr. Hartley's permission, and early in the forenoon presented myself at his hotel. As I had expected, he was from home; but Dominique conducted me to the presence of his young mistress; and, to judge from the kindness of my welcome, the visit was not disagreeable. It was late when Mr. Hartley returned to dinner; and after the cloth had been removed, and Isidora had retired, he resumed a subject that he had casually mentioned to me before, namely, how far it would be prudent or possible to place myself in the presence of my grandfather, and try what impression my unexpected appearance might produce. "I have made secret inquiries," he said, "respecting Mr. Clifford's habits, to find out how an interview could be achieved, but I have failed in obtaining any information but what is vague and unsatisfactory; but, as Clifford Hall is only twenty miles from town, you shall run down, Hector, and try whether fortune may not do more for you than I can. The domain adjoins the village of There you will find a rustic inn; and there, also, you may probably glean some information that may direct your course of action afterwards. Thither, at present, it would be imprudent in me to venture; but you are unknown, and consequently you may venture safely. You will find your grandsire under the double thrall of his steward and his Confessor. I shall sketch both for you. The former was born in the house, and reared and educated from M charitable motives by the old gentleman, from his having become an orphan while an infant. Gradually, he rose from dependency to affluence; in time he managed the old man's income; and report says, that he has secured a goodly fortune from the pilferings of the estate. It was whispered that he had secretly encouraged. Mr. Clifford's discarded boy in his wild and profligate career; and that, by the suppression of letters and numerous acts of villany beside, he contrived to snap the last link of natural affection between an angry father and a guilty son. Certainly, in the hour of young Clifford's disgrace and destitution, he evinced the blackest ingratitude to one who, badly as he might have behaved to others, had showered favours on him when a boy, and trusted him afterwards with unlimited confidence. Such is Morley the steward; and now we will briefly sketch Daniels the confessor. He is a Jesuit; born, I believe, in England, but educated abroad; a deep designing zealot-bigoted to his own faith, and intolerant to all besides. The great object of his existence is to aggrandize the order he belongs to; and by the exercise of monastic influence on a mind always superstitious, and now imbecile from age, he trusts to alienate from natural heirs the noble estates of that weak old man, to whom he has become a ghostly counsellor. In short, Morley and Daniels act with a unity of purpose, but different end: the one, to build a fortune for himself; the other, to gratify a monk's ambition, and raise himself to a commanding position in that order which he intends to aggrandize at the expense of your mother and yourself. You can easily understand that every obstacle will be placed in your way by individuals so deeply interested in preventing the old man from being reconciled to a child he once was so devotedly attached to; and whether you succeed or fail, matters cannot be more unpromising than they are. They say the fortunes of an Irishman carry him, at times, through difficulties which to other mortals would prove insuperable. Try yours, Hector-something may be gained-and, need I tell you?— nothing can be lost." I followed Mr. Hartley's advice, and started next evening by a stage coach that passed the village he had named; and at dusk I alighted at a clean and comfortable public-house, intituled the Fox and Hounds. The evening was sharp, and, as I had travelled outside, an introduction to a snug parlour and sparkling wood-fire was agreeable. I ordered supper and a bed; and, while the former was being prepared, considered in what manner, and by what means, I should endeavour to obtain an interview with Mr. Clifford. Mr. Hartley had recommended me to glean some intelligence from the landlord, should I find him inclined to be communicative; and, when the cloth had been removed and a correct assortment of fluids was placed upon the table, I desired "mine host" to be summoned to the presence. When he appeared, I had no difficulty to ascertain at a glance that he had pursued in earlier life the honourable trade of arms, and, like myself, had been intended to supply "food for powder." He was a tall, hale, hearty-looking veteran, and stout for his years, albeit Father Time had silvered his head and stooped his shoulders. Still maintain |