THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 

By William Carleton

CHAPTER I. --A strong Farmer's Establishment and Family. 

It was one summer morning, about nine o'clock, when a little man, inthe garb and trim of a mendicant, accompanied by a slender but ratherhandsome looking girl about sixteen, or it may be a year more, were upontheir way to the house of a man, who, from his position in life, mightbe considered a wealthy agriculturist, and only a step or two beneaththe condition of a gentleman farmer, although much more plain and rusticin his manners. The house and place had about them that characteristicappearance of abundance and slovenly neglect which is, unfortunately, almost peculiar to our country. The house was a long slated one, andstood upon a little eminence, about three or four hundred yards from thehighway. It was approached by a broad and ragged boreen or mock avenue, as it might be called, that was in very good keeping with the premisesto which it led. As you entered it from the road, you had to passthrough an iron gate, which it was a task to open, and which, whenopened, it was another task to shut. In consequence of this difficulty, foot passengers had made themselves a way upon each side of it, throughwhich they went to and came from the house; and in this they weresanctioned by the example of the family themselves, who, so long asthese side paths were passable, manifested as much reluctance to open orclose the gate as any one else. 

The month was May; and nothing could be more delightful and exhilaratingthan the breeze which played over the green fields that were now radiantwith the light which was flooded down upon them from the cloudless sun. Around them, in every field, were the tokens of that pleasant laborfrom which the hopes of ample and abundant harvests always spring. Here, fixed in the ground, stood the spades of a boon* of laborers, who, aswas evident from that circumstance, were then at breakfast; in anotherplace might be seen the plough and a portion of the tackle lying besideit, being expressive of the same fact. Around them, on every side, inhedges, ditches, green fields, and meadows, the birds seemedanimated into joyous activity or incessant battle, by the business ofnest-building or love. Whilst all around, from earth and air, streamedthe ceaseless voice of universal melody and song. 

 * A considerable number of men working together. 

On reaching the gate, Peety Dhu and his pretty daughter turned uptowards the house we have alluded to--which was the residence of a mannamed Burke. On reaching it they were observed by a couple of largedogs, who, partaking of the hospitable but neglected habits of thefamily, first approached and looked at them for a moment, then waggedtheir tails by way of welcome, and immediately scampered off into thekitchen to forage for themselves. 

Burke's house and farmyard, though strongly indicative of wealth andabundance in the owner, were, notwithstanding, evidently the propertyof a man whose mind was far back in a knowledge of agriculture, and theindustrial pursuits that depend upon it. His haggard was slovenly in theextreme, and his farmyard exceedingly offensive to most of the senses;everything lay about in a careless and neglected manner;--wheelbarrowswithout their trundles--sacks for days under the rain that fell fromthe eaves of the houses--other implements embedded in mud--car-housestumbling down--the pump without a handle--the garden-gate open, and thepigs hard at work destroying the vegetables, and rooting up the gardenin all directions. In fact, the very animals about the house wereconscious of the character of the people, and acted accordingly. If oneof the dogs, for instance, was hunted at the pigs, he ran in an apparentfury towards that which happened to be nearest him, which merely liftedits head and listened for a time--the dog, with loud and boisterousbarking, seizing its ear, led it along for three or four yards in thatposition, after which, upon the pig demurring to proceed any further, he very quietly dropped it and trotted in again, leaving the destructiveanimal to resume its depredations. 

The house inside bore the same character. Winter and summer thehall-door, which had long lost the knocker, lay hospitably open. Theparlor had a very equivocal appearance; for the furniture, thoughoriginally good and of excellent materials, was stained and dinged andhacked in a manner that denoted but little sense of care or cleanliness. Many of the chairs, although not worn by age, wanted legs or backs, evidently from ill-usage alone--the grate was without fire-irons--amahogany bookcase that stood in a recess to the right of the fireplace, with glass doors and green silk blinds, had the glass all broken andthe silk stained almost out of its original color; whilst inside ofit, instead of books, lay a heterogeneous collection of garden seedsin brown paper--an almanac of twenty years' standing, a dry ink-bottle, some broken delf, and a large collection of blue-moulded shoes andboots, together with an old blister of French flies, the lease of theirfarm, and a great number of their receipts for rent. To crown all, theclock in the other recess stood cobwebbed about the top, deprived of theminute hand, and seeming to intimate by its silence that it had givennote of time's progress to this idle and negligent family to no purpose. 

On the drawing-room stairs there lay what had once been a carpet, butso inseparable had been their connection that the stairs were now wornthrough it, and it required a sharp eye to distinguish such fragmentsof it as remained from the color of the dirty boards it covered and thedust that lay on both. 

On entering the kitchen, Peety and his little girl found thirteen orfourteen, in family laborers and servants of both sexes, seated at along deal table, each with a large wooden noggin of buttermilk and aspoon of suitable dimensions, digging as if for a wager into one orother of two immense wooden bowls of stirabout, so thick and firm inconsistency that, as the phrase goes, a man might dance on it. This, however, was not the only picture of such enjoyment that the kitchenafforded. Over beside the dresser was turned upon one side the huge potin which the morning meal had been made, and at the bottom of which, inside of course, a spirit of rivalry equally vigorous and animated, butby no means so harmonious, was kept up by two dogs and a couple of pigs, which were squabbling and whining and snarling among each other, whilstthey tugged away at the scrapings, or residuum, that was left behindafter the stirabout had been emptied out of it. The whole kitchen, infact, had a strong and healthy smell of food--the dresser, a huge one, was covered with an immense quantity of pewter, wood, and delf; and itwas only necessary to cast one's eye towards the chimney to perceive, bythe weighty masses of black hung beef and the huge sides and flitchesof deep yellow bacon which lined it, that plenty and abundance, even tooverflowing, predominated in the family. 

The "chimney-brace" projected far out over the fire-place towards thefloor, and under it on each side stretched two long hobs or chimneycorner seats, on which nearly a dozen persons could sit of a winterevening. Mrs. Burke, a smart, good-looking little woman, though somewhatadvanced in years, kept passing in a kind of perpetual motion fromone part of the house to the other, with a large bunch of brightkeys jingling at one side, and a huge house-wife pocket, with a roundpin-cushion dangling beside it, at the other. Jemmy Burke himself, a placid though solemn-faced man, was sitting on the hob in questioncomplacently smoking his pipe, whilst over the glowing remnants of animmense turf fire hung a singing kettle, and beside it on three crushedcoals was the teapot, "waitin', " as the servants were in the habit ofexpressing it, "for the masther and misthress's breakfast. "

Peety, who was well known and a great favorite on his rounds, received awarm and hospitable welcome from Jemmy Burke, who made him and the girlsit upon the hob, and immediately ordered them breakfast. 

"Here, Nancy Devlin, get Peety and the girsha their skinfuls ofstirabout an' milk. Sit over to the fire, alanna, an' warm yourself. "

"Warm, inagh!" replied Peety; "why, sure it's not a fire sich a blessedmornin' as this she'd want--an' a blessed mornin' it is, glory be toGod!"

"Troth, an' you're right, sure enough, Peety, " replied the good-naturedfarmer; "a blessed saison it is for gettin' down the crops. Go overthere, now, you an' the girsha, to that other table, an'--whish!--kickthem pigs an' dogs out o' the house, an' be d--d to them! One can't heartheir ears for them--you an' the girsha, an' let us see what you cando. Nancy, achora, jist dash a gawliogue o' sweet milk into theirnoggins--they're not like us that's well fed every day--. It's butseldom they get the likes, the creatures--so dash in a brave gawliogueo' the sweet milk for them. Take your time, Peety, --aisy, alanna, 'tillyou get what I'm sayin; it'll nourish an put strinth in you. "

"Ah, Misther Burke, " replied Peety, in a tone of gratitude peculiar tohis class, "you're the ould* man still--ever an' always the large heartan' lavish hand--an' so sign's on it--full an' plinty upon an' aboutyou--an' may it ever be so wid you an' yours, a chierna, I pray. An howis the misthress, sir?"

 * That is to say, the same man still. 

"Throth, she's very well, Peety--has no raison to complain, thank God!"

"Thank God, indeed! and betther may she be, is my worst wish to her--an'Masther Hycy, sir?--but I needn't ax how he is. Isn't the whole countryringin' wid his praises;--the blessin' o' God an you, acushla"--thiswas to Nancy Devlin, on handing them the new milk--"draw over, darlin', nearer to the table--there now"--this to his daughter, whom he settledaffectionately to her food. "Ay, indeed, " he proceeded, "sure there'sonly the one word of it over the whole Barony we're sittin' in--thatthere's neither fetch nor fellow for him through the whole parish. Somepeople, indeed, say that Bryan M'Mahon comes near him; but only some, for it's given up to Masther Hycy all to pieces. "

"Faix, an' I for one, although I'm his father--amn't I, Rosha?" headded, good-humoredly addressing his wife, who had just come into thekitchen from above stairs. 

"Throth, " said the wife, who never replied with good humor unless whenaddressed as Mrs. Burke, "you're ill off for something to speak about. How are you, Peety? an' how is your little girl?"

"In good health, ma'am, thank God an' you; an' very well employed at thepresent time, thanks to you still!"

To this Mrs. Burke made no reply; for it may be necessary to statehere, that although she was not actually penurious or altogether withouthospitality, and something that might occasionally be termed charity, still it is due to honest Jemmy to inform the reader in the outset, that, as Peety Dhu said, "the large heart and the lavish hand"were especially his own. Mrs. Burke was considered to have beenhandsome--indeed, a kind of rustic beauty in her day--and, like many ofthat class, she had not been without a due share of vanity, or perhapswe might say coquetry, if we were to speak the truth. Her teeth weregood, and she had a very pretty dimple in one of her cheeks when shesmiled, two circumstances which contributed strongly to sustain her goodhumor, and an unaccountable tendency to laughter, when the povertyof the jest was out of all proportion to the mirth that followed it. Notwithstanding this apparently light and agreeable spirit, she was bothvulgar and arrogant, and labored under the weak and ridiculous ambitionof being considered a woman of high pretensions, who had been mostunfortunately thrown away, if not altogether lost, upon a husband whomshe considered as every way unworthy of her. Her father had risen intothe possession of some unexpected property when it was too late tobestow upon her a suitable education, and the consequence was that, inaddition to natural vanity, on the score of beauty, she was a gooddeal troubled with purse-pride, which, with a foolish susceptibility offlattery, was a leading feature in her disposition. In addition to this, she was an inveterate and incurable slattern, though a gay and livelyone; and we need scarcely say that whatever she did in the shapeof benevolence or charity, in most instances owed its origin to theinfluences of the weaknesses she was known to possess. 

Breakfast, at length, was over, and the laborers, with an odd hiccuphere and there among them, from sheer repletion, got their hats andbegan to proceed towards the farm. 

"Now, boys, " said Jemmy, after dropping a spittle into his pipe, pressing it down with his little finger, and putting it into hiswaistcoat pocket, "see an' get them praties down as soon as you can, an'don't work as if you intended to keep your Christmas there; an' Paddythe Bounce, I'll thank you to keep your jokes an' your stories toyourself, an' not to be idlin' the rest till afther your work's done. Throth it was an unlucky day I had anything to do wid you, you divartin'vagabone--ha! ha! ha! When I hired him in the Micklemas fair, " proceededJemmy, without addressing himself to any particular individual, "hekilled me wid laughin' to such a degree, that I couldn't refuse themehony whatsomever wages he axed; an' now he has the men, insteed o'mindin' their work, dancin' through the field, an' likely to split atthe fun he tells them, ha! ha! ha! Be off, now, boys. Pettier Murphy, you randletree, let, the girl alone. That's it Peggy, lay on him; ha!devil's cure to you! take what you've got any way--you desarve it. "

These latter observations were occasioned by a romping match that tookplace between a young laborer and a good-looking girl who was employedto drop potatoes for the men. 

At length those who were engaged in the labor of the field departed ina cheerful group, and in a few minutes the noise of a horse's feet, evidently proceeding at a rapid trot, was heard coming up the boreen oravenue towards the house. 

"Ay, " exclaimed Burke, with a sigh, "there comes Hycy at a trot, an' thewondher is it's not a gallop. That's the way he'll get through life, Ifear; an' if God doesn't change him he's more likely to gallop himselfto the Staff an' Bag (* Beggary. ) than to anything else I know. I can'tnor I won't stand his extravagance--but it's his mother's fault, an'she'll see what it'll come to in the long run. "

He had scarcely concluded when his son entered the kitchen, alternatelysinging and whistling the Foxhunter's jig in a manner that betokenedexuberant if not boisterous spirits. He was dressed in top boots, a green riding-coat, yellow waistcoat, and drab cassimere smallclothes--quite in jockey trim, in fact. 

Hycy rather resembled his father in the lineaments of his face, and was, consequently, considered handsome. He was about the middle size, andremarkably well proportioned. In fact, it would be exceedingly difficultto find a young fellow of manlier bearing or more striking personalattractions. His features were regular, and his complexion fresh andyouthful looking, and altogether there was in his countenance and wholeappearance a cheerful, easy, generous, unreflecting dash of characterthat not only made him a favorite on first acquaintance, but wonconfidence by an openness of manner that completely disarmed suspicion. It might have been observed, however, that his laugh, like his mother's, never, or at least seldom, came directly from the heart, and that therewas a hard expression about his otherwise well-formed mouth, such asrarely indicated generosity of feeling, or any acquaintance with thekinder impulses of our nature. He was his mother's pet and favorite, andher principal wish was that he should be looked upon and addressed asa gentleman, and for that purpose she encouraged him to associate withthose only whose rank and position in life rendered any assumption ofequality on his part equally arrogant and obtrusive. In his own familyhis bearing towards his parents was, in point of fact, the reverseof what it ought to have been. He not only treated his father withsomething bordering on contempt, but joined his mother in all thatignorant pride which kept her perpetually bewailing the fate by whichshe was doomed to become his wife. Nor did she herself come off betterat his hands. Whilst he flattered her vanity, and turned her foiblesto his own advantage, under the guise of a very dutiful affection, hisdeportment towards her was marked by an ironical respect, which was themore indefensible and unmanly because she could not see through it. Thepoor woman had taken up the opinion, that difficult and unintelligiblelanguage was one test of a gentleman; and her son by the use of suchlanguage, let no opportunity pass of confirming her in this opinion, andestablishing his own claims to the character. 

"Where did you ride to this mornin' Misther Hycy?"

"Down to take a look at Tom Burton's mare, Crazy Jane, ma'am:--

 "'Away, my boys, to horse away, The Chase admits of no delay--'"

"Tom Burton!" re-echoed the father with a groan; "an so you're in TomBurton's hands! A swindlin', horse-dalin' scoundrel that would chate St. Pether. Hycy, my man, if you go to look for wool to Tom you'll come homeshorn. "

 "'Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl, That there's wrath and despair--"

Thank you, father--much obliged; you entertain a good opinion of me. "

"Do I, faith? Don't be too sure of that. "

"I've bought her at any rate, " said Hycy--"thirty-five's the figure; butshe's a dead bargain at fifty. "

"Bought her!" exclaimed the father; "an' how, in God's name, do youexpect to pay for her?"

"By an order on a very excellent, worthy man andgentleman-farmer--ycleped James Burke, Esquire--who has the honorof being father to that ornament of the barony, Hycy Burke, theaccomplished. My worthy sire will fork out. "

"If I do, that I may--"

"Silence, poor creature!" said his wife, clapping her hand upon hismouth--"make no rash or vulgar oaths. Surely, Misther Burke--"

"How often did I bid you not to misther me? Holy scrapers, am I to bemisthered and pesthered this way, an' my name plane Jemmy Burke!"

"You see, Hycy, the vulgarian will come out, " said his mother. "I say, Misther Burke, are you to see your son worse mounted at the HerringstownHunt than any other gentleman among them? Have you no pride?

"No, thank God! barin' that I'm an honest man an' no gentleman; an', asfor Hycy, Rosha--"

"Mrs. Burke, father, if you please, " interposed Hycy; "remember who yourwife is at all events. "

"Faith, Hycy, she'll come better off if I forget that same; but I tellyou that instead of bein' the laughin'-stock of the same Hunt, it'sbetune the stilts of a plough you ought to be, or out in the fieldskeepin' the men to their business. "

"I paid three guineas earnest money, at all events, " said the son; "but'it matters not, ' as the preacher says--

 "'When I was at home I was merry and frisky, My dad kept a pig and my mother sold whiskey'--

Beg pardon, mother, no allusion--my word and honor none--to you I mean--

 "'My uncle was rich, but would never be aisy Till I was enlisted by Corporal Casey. '

Fine times in the army, Mr. Burke, with every prospect of a speedypromotion. Mother, my stomach craves its matutinal supply--I'm inexcellent condition for breakfast. "

"It's ready. Jemmy, you'll--Misther Burke, I mane--you'll pay forMisther Hycy's mare. "

"If I do--you'll live to see it, that's all. Give the boy hisbreakwhist. "

"Thank you, worthy father--much obliged for your generosity--

 "'Oh, love is the soul of a nate Irishman He loves all that's lovely, loves all that he can, With his sprig of--'

Ah, Peety Dhu, how are you, my worthy peripatetic? Why, this daughterof yours is getting quite a Hebe on our hands. Mrs. Burke, breakfast--breakfast, madam, as you love Hycy, the accomplished. " Sosaying, Hycy the accomplished proceeded to the parlor we have described, followed by his maternal relative, as he often called his mother. 

"Well, upon my word and honor, mother, " said the aforesaid Hycy, whoknew and played upon his mother's weak points, "it is a sad thing to seesuch a woman as you are, married to a man who has neither the spirit norfeelings of a gentleman--my word and honor it is. "

"I feel that, Hycy, but there's no help for spilt milk; we must onlymake the best of a bad bargain. Are you coming to your breakfast, " sheshouted, calling to honest Jemmy, who still sat on the hob ruminatingwith a kind of placid vexation over his son's extravagance--"your tay'sfilled out!"

"There let it, " he replied, "I'll have none of your plash to-day; I tuckmy skinful of good stiff stirabout that's worth a shipload of it. Drinkit yourselves--I'm no gintleman. "

"Arrah, when did you find that out, Misther Burke?" she shouted backagain. 

"To his friends and acquaintances it is anything but a recent discovery, " added Hycy; and each complimented the observation of the otherwith a hearty laugh, during which the object of it went out to thefields to join the men. 

"I'm afraid it's no go, mother, " proceeded the son, when breakfast wasfinished--"he won't stand it. Ah, if both my parents were of thesame geometrical proportion, there would be little difficulty in thisbusiness; but upon my honor and reputation, my dear mother, I thinkbetween you and me that my father's a gross abstraction--a mostsubstantial and ponderous apparition. "

"An' didn't I know that an' say that too all along?" replied his mother, catching as much of the high English from him as she could manage:"however, lave the enumeration of the mare to me. It'll go hard or I'llget it out of him. "

"It is done, " he replied; "your stratagetic powers are great, my dearmother, consequently it is left in your hands. "

Hycy, whilst in the kitchen, cast his eye several times upon thehandsome young daughter of Peety Dhu, a circumstance to which we owe theinstance of benevolent patronage now about to be recorded. 

"Mother, " he proceeds, "I think it would be a charity to rescue thatinteresting little girl of Peety Dhu's from a life of mendicancy. "

"From a what?" she asked, staring at him. 

"Why, " he replied, now really anxious to make himself understood--"fromthe disgraceful line of life he's bringin' her up to. You should takeher in and provide for her. "

"When I do, Hycy, " replied his mother, bridling, "it won't be a beggar'sdaughter nor a niece of Philip Hogan's--sorrow bit. "

"As for her being a niece of Hogan's, you know it is by his mother'sside; but wouldn't it be a feather in her cap to get under theprotection of a highly respectable woman, though? The patronage of aperson like you, Mrs. Burke, would be the making of her--my word andhonor it would. "

"Hem!--ahem!--do you think so, Hycy?"

"Tut, mother--that indeed!--can there be a doubt about it?"

"Well then, in that case, I think she may stay--that is, if the fatherwill consent to it. "

"Thank you, mother, for that example of protection and benevolence. Ifeel that all my virtues certainly proceed from your side of the houseand are derived from yourself--there can be no doubt of that. "

"Indeed I think so myself, Hycy, for where else would you get them? Youhave the M'Swiggin nose; an' it can't be from any one else you take yourhigh notions. All you show of the gentleman, Hycy, it's not hard to namethem you have it from, I believe. "

"Spoken like a Sybil. Mother, within the whole range of my femaleacquaintances I don't know a woman that has in her so much of thegentleman as yourself--my word and honor, mother. "

"Behave, Hycy--behave now, " she replied, simpering; "however truth'struth, at any rate. "

We need scarcely say that the poor mendicant was delighted at the notionof having his daughter placed in the family of so warm and independent aman as Jemmy Burke. Yet the poor little fellow did not separate from thegirl without a strong manifestation of the affection he bore her. Shewas his only child--the humble but solitary flower that blossomed forhim upon the desert of life. 

"I lave her wid you, " he said, addressing Mrs. Burke with tears in hiseyes, "as the only treasure an' happiness I have in this world. She isthe poor man's lamb, as I have hard read out of Scripture wanst; an' inlavin' her undher your care, I lave all my little hopes in this worldwid her. I trust, ma'am, you'll guard her an' look afther her as if shewas one of your own. "

This unlucky allusion might have broken up the whole contemplatedarrangement, had not Hycy stepped in to avert from Peety the offendedpride of the patroness. 

"I hope, Peety, " he said, "that you are fully sensible of the honor Mrs. Burke does you and your daughter by taking the girl under her protectionand patronage?"

"I am, God knows. "

"And of the advantage it is to get her near so respectable a woman--sohighly respectable a woman?"

"I am, in troth. "

"And that it may be the making of your daughter's fortune?"

"It may, indeed, Masther Hycy. "

"And that there's no other woman of high respectability in the parishcapable of elevating her to the true principles of double and simpleproportion?"

"No, in throth, sir, I don't think there is. "

"Nor that can teach her the newest theories in dogmatic theology andmetaphysics, together with the whole system of Algebraic Equations ifthe girl should require them?"

"Divil another woman in the barony can match her at them by allaccounts, " replied Peety, catching the earnest enthusiasm of Hycy'smanner. 

"That will do, Peety; you see yourself, mother, " he added, taking heraside and speaking in a low voice, "that the little fellow knows rightwell the advantages of having her under your care and protection;and it's very much to his credit, and speaks very highly for hismetempsychosis that he does so--hem!"

"He was always a daicent, sinsible, poor creature of his kind, " repliedhis mother "besides, Hycy, between you and me, she'll be more than worthher bit. "

"There now, Peety, " said her son, turning towards the mendicant; "it'sall settled--wait now for a minute till I write a couple of notes, whichyou must deliver for me. "

Peety sat accordingly, and commenced to lay down for his daughter'sguidance and conduct such instructions as he deemed suitable to thesituation she was about to enter and the new duties that necessarilydevolved upon her. 

In due time Hycy appeared, and placing two letters in Peety's hands, said--"Go, Peety, to Gerald Cavanagh's, of Fenton's Farm, and if youcan get an opportunity, slip that note into Kathleen's hands--this, mark, with the corner turned down--you won't forget that?"

"No, sir. "

"Very well--you're then to proceed to Tom M'Mahon's, and if you findBryan, his son, there, give him this; and if he's at the mountain farmof Ahadarra, go to him. I don't expect an answer from Kathleen Cavanagh, but I do from Bryan M'Mahon; and mark me, Peety. "

"I do, sir. "

"Are you sure you do?"

"Sartin, sir. "

"Silent as the grave then is the word in both cases--but if I everhear--"

"That's enough, Masther Hycy; when the grave spakes about it so will I. "

Peety took the letters and disappeared with an air rendered importantby the trust reposed in him; whilst Mrs. Burke looked inquiringly at herson, as if her curiosity were a good deal excited. 

"One of them is to Kate or Kathleen Cavanagh, as they call her, " saidHycy, in reply to her looks; "and the other for Bryan M'Mahon, who issoft and generous--_probatum est_. I want to know if he'll stand forthirty-five--and as for Kate, I'm making love to her, you must know. "

"Kathleen Cavanagh, " replied his mother; "I'll never lend my privilegesto sich match. "

"Match!" exclaimed Hycy, coolly. 

"Ah, " she replied warmly; "match or marriage will never--"

"Marriage!" he repeated, "why, my most amiable maternal relative, doyou mean to insinuate to Hycy the accomplished, that he is obliged topropose either match or marriage to every girl he makes love to? What aprosaic world you'd have of it, my dear Mrs. Burke. This, ma'am, isonly an agreeable flirtation--not but that it's possible there maybe something in the shape of a noose matrimonial dangling in thebackground. She combines, no doubt, in her unrivalled person, thequalities of Hebe, Venus, and Diana--Hebe in youth, Venus in beauty, andDiana in wisdom; so it's said, but I trust incorrectly, as respects oneof them--good-bye, mother--try your influence as touching Crazy Jane, and report favorably--

 "'Friend of my soul, this goblet sip, 'Twill chase the pensive tear. &c. '"

CHAPTER II. --Gerald Cavanagh and his Family

--Tom M'Mahon's return from Dublin. 

The house of Gerald Cavanagh, though not so large as that of ourkind-hearted friend, Jemmy Burke, was a good specimen of what an Irishfarmer's residence ought to be. It was distant from Burke's somewhatbetter than two miles, and stood almost, immediately inside the highway, upon a sloping green that was vernal through the year. It was inthe cottage style, in the form of a cross, with a roof ornamentallythatched, and was flanked at a little distance by the office-houses. The grass was always so close on this green, as to have rather theappearance of a well kept lawn. The thorn-trees stood in front of it, clipped in the shape of round tables, on one of which, exposed to allweathers, might be seen a pair of large churn-staves, bleached into awhite, fresh color, that caused a person to long for the butter theymade. On the other stood a large cage, in which was imprisoned ablackbird, whose extraordinary melody had become proverbial in theneighborhood. Down a little to the right of the hall-door, a prettywinding gravelled pathway led to a clear spring well that wasovershadowed by a spreading white-thorn; and at each gable stood agraceful elder or mountain-ash, whose red berries during the autumn hada fine effect, and contrasted well with the mass of darker and largertrees, by which the back portion of the house and the offices was almostconcealed. Both the house and green were in an elevated position, andcommanded a delightful expanse of rich meadows to the extent of nearlyone hundred acres, through which a placid river wound its easy way, likesome contented spirit that glides calmly and happily through the gentlevicissitudes of an untroubled life. 

As Peety Dhu, whilst passing from the residence of our friend JemmyBurke to that of Gerald Cavanagh, considered himself in his vocation, the reader will not be surprised to hear that it was considerably pastnoon! when he arrived at Fenton's Farm; for by this name the propertywas known on a portion of which the Cavanaghs lived. It might be aboutthe hours of two or three o'clock, when Peety, on arriving at the gatewhich led into Cavanagh's house, very fortunately saw his daughterKathleen, in the act of feeding the blackbird aforementioned; andprudently deeming this the best opportunity of accomplishing hismission, he beckoned her to approach him. The good-natured girl did so:saying at the same time--"What is the matter, Peety?--do you want me?Won't you come into the kitchen?"

"Thank you, avourneen, but I can't; I did want you, but it was only togive you this letther. I suppose it will tell you all. Oh, thin, is itany wondher that you should get it, an' that half the parish should bedyin' in love wid you? for, in troth, it's enough to make an ould manfeel young agin even to look at you. I was afraid they might see megivin' you the letther from the windy, and that's what made me sign toyou to come to me here. Good-bye _a colleen dhas_ (* Pretty girl. )--an'it's you that's that sure enough. "

The features, neck, and bosom of the girl, on receiving thiscommunication, were overspread with one general blush, and she stood, for a few moments, irresolute and confused. In the mean time Peety hadpassed on, and after a pause of a few minutes, she looked at the lettermore attentively, and slowly broke it open. It was probably the firstepistle she had ever received, and we need scarcely say that, as anatural consequence, she was by no means quick in deciphering writtenhand. Be this as it may, after having perused a few lines she started, looked at the bottom for the name, then at the letter again; and as hersister Hanna joined her, that brow on which a frown had been seldom everseen to sit, was now crimson with indignation. 

"Why, gracious goodness!" exclaims Hanna, "what is this, Kathleen?Something has vexed you!--ha! a love-letter, too! In airnest, what ailsyou? an' who is the letter from, if it's fair to ax?"

"The letter is not for me, " replied Kathleen, putting it into hersister's hand, "but when you read it you won't wonder that I'm angry. "

As Hanna began to go slowly through it, she first laughed, but onproceeding a little further her brow also reddened, and her wholefeatures expressed deep and unequivocal resentment. Having concluded theperusal of this mysterious document, she, looked at her sister, who, inreturn, gazed upon her. 

"Well, Kathleen, after all, " said Hanna, "it's not worth while losingone's temper about it. Never think of it again; only to punish him, I'dadvise you, the next time you see Peety, to send it back. "

"You don't suppose, Hanna, that I intended to keep it; but indeed, " sheadded, with a smile; "it is not worth while bein' angry about. "

As the sisters stood beside each other, holding this short conversation, it would be difficult to find any two females more strikingly dissimilarboth in figure, features, and complexion. Hanna was plain, but notdisagreeable, especially when her face became animated with good humor. Her complexion, though not at all of a sickly hue, was of that middletint which is neither pale nor sallow, but holds an equivocal positionbetween both. Her hair was black, but dull, and without that peculiargloss which accompanies either the very snowy skin of a fair beauty, or, at least, the rich brown hue of a brunette. Her figure was in no wayremarkable, and she was rather under the middle size. 

Her sister, however, was a girl who deserves at our hands a moreaccurate and lengthened description. Kathleen Cavanagh was considerablyabove the middle size, her figure, in fact, being of the tallest; but noearthly form could surpass it in symmetry, and that voluptuous fulnessof outline, which, when associated with a modest and youthful style ofbeauty, is, of all others, the most fascinating and irresistible. Thewhiteness of her unrivalled skin, and the gloss of health which shonefrom it were almost dazzling. Her full bust, which literally glowed withlight and warmth, was moulded with inimitable proportion, and the massesof rich brown hair that shaded her white and expansive forehead, addedincredible attractions to a face that was remarkable not only forsimple beauty in its finest sense, but that divine charm of ever-varyingexpression which draws its lights and shadows, and the thousand graceswith which it is accompanied, directly from the heart. Her dark eyeswere large and flashing, and reflected by the vivacity or melancholywhich increased or over-shadowed their lustre, all those joys orsorrows, and various shades of feeling by which she was moved, whilsther mouth gave indication of extraordinary and entrancing sweetness, especially when she smiled. 

Such was Kathleen Cavanagh, the qualities of whose mind were stillsuperior to the advantages of her person. And yet she shone not forth atthe first view, nor immediately dazzled the beholder by the brilliancyof her charms. She was unquestionably a tall, fine looking country girl, tastefully and appropriately dressed; but it was necessary to see hermore than once, and to have an opportunity of examining her, time aftertime, to be able fully to appreciate the surprising character of herbeauty, and the incredible variety of those changes which sustain itspower and give it perpetual novelty to the heart and eye. It was, infact, of that dangerous description which improves on inspection, andgradually develops itself upon the beholder, until he feels the fullextent of its influence, and is sensible, perhaps, when too late, thathe is its helpless and unresisting victim. 

Around the two thorn-trees we have alluded to were built circular seatsof the grassy turf, on which the two sisters, each engaged in knitting, now sat chatting and laughing with that unrestrained good humor andfamiliarity which gave unquestionable proof of the mutual confidenceand affection that subsisted between them. Their natural tempers anddispositions were as dissimilar as their persons. Hanna was lively andmirthful, somewhat hasty, but placable, quick in her feelings of eitherjoy or sorrow, and apparently not susceptible of deep or permanentimpressions; whilst Kathleen, on the other hand, was serious, quiet, andplacid--difficult to be provoked, of great sweetness of temper, with atinge of melancholy that occasionally gave an irresistible charm to hervoice and features, when conversing upon any subject that was calculatedto touch the heart, or in which she felt deeply. Unlike her sister, shewas resolute, firm, and almost immutable in her resolutions; but thatwas because her resolutions were seldom hasty or unadvised, but theresult of a strong feeling of rectitude and great good sense. It istrue she possessed high feelings of self-respect, together with anenthusiastic love for her religion, and a most earnest zeal for itsadvancement; indeed, so strongly did these predominate in her mind, thatany act involving a personal slight towards herself, or indifference toher creed and its propagation, were looked upon by Kathleen as crimesfor which there was no forgiveness. If she had any fellings, it was inthese two points they lay. But at the same time, we are bound to say, that the courage and enthusiasm of Joan of Arc had been demanded of herby the state and condition of her country and her creed, she wouldhave unquestionably sacrificed her life, if the sacrifice secured theprosperity of either. 

Something of their difference of temperament might have been observedduring their conversation, while sitting under the white thorn. Everynow and then, for instance, Hanna would start up and commence aseries of little flirtations with the blackbird, which she called hersweetheart, and again resume her chat and seat as before; or she wouldattempt to catch a butterfly as it fluttered about her, or sometimesgive it pursuit over half the green, whilst Kathleen sat with laughingand delighted eyes, and a smile of unutterable sweetness on her lips, watching the success of this innocent frolic. In this situation we mustnow leave them, to follow Peety, who is on his way to deliver the otherletter to Bryan M'Mahon. 

Our little black Mercury was not long in arriving at the house of TomM'Mahon, which he reached in company with that worthy man himself, whomhe happened to overtake near Carriglass where he lived. M'Mahon seemedfatigued and travel-worn, and consequently was proceeding at a slow pacewhen Peety overtook him. The latter observed this. 

"Why, thin, Tom, " said he, after the first salutations had passed, "youlook like a man that had jist put a tough journey over him. "

"An' so I ought, Peety, " he replied, "for I have put a tough journeyover me. "

"Musha where were you, thin, if it's fair to ax?" inquired Peety; "foras for me that hears everything almost, the never a word I heard o'this. "

"I was in Dublin, thin, all the way, " replied the farmer, "strivin' toget a renewal o' my laise from ould Squire Chevydale, the landlord; an'upon my snuggins, Peety, you may call a journey to Dublin an' home agina tough one--devil a doubt of it. However, thank God, here we are athome; an' blessed be His name that we have a home to come to; for, afther all, what place is like it? Throth, Peety, my heart longed forthese brave fields of ours--for the lough there below, and the wildhills above us; for it wasn't until I was away from them that I felt howstrong the love of them was in my heart. "

M'Mahon was an old but hale man, with a figure and aspect that were muchabove the common order even of the better class of peasants. There couldbe no mistaking the decent and composed spirit of integrity which wasevident in his very manner; and there was something in his long flowinglocks, now tinged with gray, as they rested upon his shoulders, thatgave an air of singular respect to his whole appearance. 

On uttering the last words he stood, and looking around him became somuch affected that his eyes filled with tears. "Ay, " said he, "thankGod that we have our place to come to, an' that we will still have it tocome to, and blessed be His name for all things! Come, Peety, " he added, after a pause, "let us see how they all are inside; I'm longin' to seethem, especially poor, dear Dora; an'--God bless me! here she is!--no, she ran back to tell them--but ay--oh, ay! here she is again, my darlin'girl, comin' to meet me. "

He had scarcely uttered the words when an interesting, slender girl, about eighteen, blushing, and laughing, and crying, all at once, cameflying towards him, and throwing her white arms about his neck, fellupon his bosom, kissed him, and wept with delight at his return. 

"An' so, father dear, you're back to us! My gracious, we thought you'dnever come home! Sure you worn't sick? We thought maybe that you tookill, or that--that--something happened you; and we wanted to send Bryanafter you--but nothing happened you?--nor you worn't sick?"

"You affectionate, foolish darlin', no, I wasn't sick; nor nothing illhappened me, Dora. "

"Oh, thank God! Look at them, " she proceeded, directing his attentionto the house, "look at them all crowdin' to the door--and here's Shibby, too, and Bryan himself--an' see my mother ready to lep out of herselfwid pure joy--the Lord be praised that you're safe back!"

At this moment his second daughter ran to him, and a repetition ofwelcome similar to that which he received from Dora took place. His sonBryan grasped his hand, and said, whilst a tear stood even in his eye, that he was glad to see him safe home. The old man, in return, graspedhis hand with an expression of deep feeling, and after having inquiredif they had been all well in his absence, he proceeded with them to thehouse. Here the scene was still more interesting. Mrs. M'Mahon stoodsmiling at the door, but as he came near, she was obliged once or twiceto wipe away the tears with the corner of her handkerchief. We haveoften observed how much fervid piety is mingled with the affections ofthe Irish people when in a state of excitement; and this meeting betweenthe old man and his wife presented an additional proof of it. 

"Blessed be God!" exclaimed his wife, tenderly embracing* him, "blessedbe God, Tom darlin', that you're safe back to us! An' how are you, avourueen? an' wor you well ever since? an' there was nothin--musha, goout o' this, Ranger, you thief--oh, God forgive me! what am I sayin'?sure the poor dog is as glad as the best of us--arrah, thin, look at theaffectionate crathur, a'most beside himself! Dora, avillish, give himthe could stirabout that's in the skillet, jist for his affection, thecrathur. Here, Ranger--Ranger, I say--oh no, sorra one's in the housenow but yourself, Tom. Well, an' there was nothing wrong wid you?"

"Nothin', Nancy, thanks be to the Almighty--down, poor fellow--therenow, Ranger--och, behave, you foolish dog--musha, see this!"

"Throth, Tom, " continued his loving wife, "let what will happen, it'sthe last journey ever we'll let you take from us. Ever an' ever, therewe wor thinkin' an' thinkin' a thousand things about you. At one timethat something happened you; then that you fell sick an' had none butstrangers about you. Throth we won't; let what will happen, you muststay wid vis. "

"Indeed an' I never knew how I loved the place, an' you all, till Iwent; but, thank God, I hope it's the last journey ever I'll have totake from either you or it. "

"Shibby, run down to--or do you, Dora, go, you're the souplest--to PaddyMullen's and Jemmy Kelly's, and the rest of the neighbors, an' tell themto come up, that your father's home. Run now, acushla, an' if you falldon't wait to rise; an' Shibby, darlin', do you whang down a lot o' thatbacon into rashers, 'your father must be at death's door wid hunger;but wasn't it well that I thought of having the whiskey in, for you seeafther Thursday last we didn't know what minute you'd dhrop in on us, Tom, an' I said it was best to be prepared. Give Peety a chair, thecrature; come forrid, Peety, an' take a sate; an' how are you? an' howis the girsha wid you, an' where is she?"

To these questions, thus rapidly put, Peety returned suitable answers;but indeed Mrs. M'Mahon did not wait to listen to them, having gone toanother room to produce the whisky she had provided for the occasion. 

"Here, " she said, reappearing with a huge bottle in one hand and a glassin the other, "a sip o' the right sort will help you afther your longjourney; you must be tired, be coorse, so take this. "

"Aisy, Bridget, " exclaimed her husband, "don't fill it; you'll make mehearty. " (* tipsy)

"Throth an' I will fill it, " she replied, "ay, an' put a heap on it. There now, finish that bumper. "

The old man, with a smiling and happy face, received the glass, andtaking his wife's hand in his, looked at her, and then upon them all, with an expression of deep emotion. "Bridget, your health; childre', allyour healths; and here's to Carriglasa, an' may we long live happy init, as we will, plase God! Peety, not forgettin' you!"

We need hardly say that the glass went round, nor that Peety was notomitted in the hospitality any more than in the toast. 

"Here, Bryan, " said Mrs. M'Mahon, "lay that bottle on the dresser, it'snot worth while puttin' it past till the neighbors comes up; an' it'sthey that'll be the glad neighbors to see you safe back agin, Tom. "

In this she spoke truth. Honest and hearty was the welcome he receivedfrom them, as with sparkling eyes and a warm grasp they greeted himon his return. Not only had Paddy Mullin and Jemmy Kelly run up inhaste--the latter, who had been digging in his garden, without waitingto put on his hat or coat--but other families in the neighborhood, youngand old, crowded in to welcome him home---from Dublin--for in that laythe principal charm. The bottle was again produced, and a holiday spiritnow prevailed among them. Questions upon questions were put to him withreference to the wonders they had heard of the great metropolis--ofthe murders and robberies committed upon travellers--the kidnapping ofstrangers from the country--the Lord Lieutenant's Castle, with threehundred and sixty-four windows in it, and all the extraordinary sightsand prodigies which it is supposed to contain. In a few minutes afterthis friendly accession to their numbers had taken place, a youthentered about nineteen years of age--handsome, tall, and well-made--infact, such a stripling as gave undeniable promise of becoming a fine, powerful young man. On being handed a glass of whiskey he shook handswith M'Mahon, welcomed him home, and then drank all their healths byname until he came to that of Dora, when he paused, and, coloring, merely nodded towards her. We cannot undertake to account for thisomission, nor do more than record what actually happened. Neither do weknow why Dora blushed so deeply as she did, nor why the sparkling andrapid glance which she gave him in return occasioned him to look downwith an appearance of confusion and pain. That some understandingsubsisted between young Cavanagh--for he was Gerald's son--and Doramight have been evident to a close observer; but in truth there wasat that moment no such thing as a close observer among them, every eyebeing fixed with impatience and curiosity upon Tom M'Mahon, who had nowmost of the conversation to himself, little else being left to the shareof his auditors than the interjectional phrases and exclamations ofwonder at his extraordinary account of Dublin. 

"But, father, " said Bryan, "about the business that brought you there?Did you get the Renewal?"

"I got as good, " replied the simple-hearted old man, "an' that was the, word of a gintleman--an' sure they say that that's the best security inthe world. "

"Well, but how was it?" they exclaimed, "an' how did it happen that youdidn't get the Lease itself?"

"Why, you see, " he proceeded in reply, "the poor gintleman was near hisend--an' it was owin' to Pat Corrigan that I seen him at all--for Pat, you know, is his own man. When I went in to where he sat I found Mr. Fethertonge the agent wid him: he had a night-cap on, an' was sittin'in a big armchair, wid one of his feet an' a leg swaythed wid flannel. Ithought he was goin' to write or sign papers. 'Well, M'Mahon, ' sayshe--for he was always as keen as a briar, an' knew me at once--'what doyou want? an' what has brought you from the country?' I then spoke to himabout the new lease; an' he said to Fethertonge, 'prepare M'Mahon'slease, Fothertonge;--you shall have a new lease, M'Mahon. You are anhonest man, and your family have been so for many a long year uponour property. As my health is unsartin, ' he said, turning to Mr. Fethertonge, 'I take Mr. Fethertonge here to witness, that in caseanything should happen me I give you my promise for a renewal--an' notonly in my name alone, but in my son's; an' I now lave it upon him tofulfil my intentions an' my words, if I should not live to see it donemyself. Mr. Fethertonge here has brought me papers to sign, but I am notable to hould a pen, or if I was I'd give you a written promise; butyou have my solemn word, I fear my dyin' word, in Mr. Fethertonge'spresence--that you shall have a lease of your farm at the ould rint. Itis such tenants as you we want, M'Mahon, an' that we ought to encourageon our property. Fethertonge, do you in the mane time see that a leaseis prepared for M'Mahon; an' see, at all events, that my wishes shall becarried into effect. ' Sich was his last words to me, but he was a corpseon the next day but one afterwards. "

"It's jist as good, " they exclaimed with one voice; "for what isbetther, or what can be betther than _the word of an Irish gentleman?_"

"What ought to be betther, at all events?" said Bryan. "Well, father, sofar everything is right, for there is no doubt but his son will fulfilhis words--Mr. Fethertonge himself isn't the thing; but I don't see whyhe should be our enemy. We always stood well with the ould man, an' Ihope will with the son. Come, mother, move the bottle again--there'sanother round in it still; an' as everything looks so well and our mindis aisy, we'll see it to the bottom. "

The conversation was again resumed, questions were once more askedconcerning the sights and sounds of Dublin, of which one would imaginethey could scarcely ever hear enough, until the evening was tolerablyfar advanced, when the neighbors withdrew to their respective homes, andleft M'Mahon and his family altogether to themselves. 

Peety, now that the joy and gratulation for the return of theirfather had somewhat subsided, lost no time in delivering Hycy Burke'scommunication into the hands of Bryan. The latter, on opening it, started with surprise not inferior to that with which Kathleen Cavanaghhad perused the missive addressed to her. Nor was this all. The letterreceived by Bryan, as if the matter had been actually designed by thewriter, produced the selfsame symptoms of deep resentment upon him thatthe mild and gentle Kathleen Cavanagh experienced on the perusal of herown. His face became flushed and his eye blazed with indignation ashe went through its contents; after which he once more looked at thesuperscription, and notwithstanding the vehement passion into which ithad thrown him, he was ultimately obliged to laugh. 

"Peety, " said he, resuming his gravity, "you carried a letter from HycyBurke to Kathleen Cavanagh to-day?"

"Who says that?" replied Peety, who could not but remember the solemnityof his promise to that accomplished gentleman. 

"I do, Peety. "

"Well, I can't help you, Bryan, nor prevent you from thinking so, sure--stick to that. "

"Why, I know you did, Peety. "

"Well, acushla, an' if you do, your only so much the wiser. "

"Oh, I understand, " continued Bryan, "it's a private affair, or intendedto be so--an' Mr. Hycy has made you promise not to spake of it. "

"Sure you know all about it, Bryan; an' isn't that enough for you? Onlywhat answer am I to give him?"

"None at present, Peety; but say I'll see himself in a day or two. "

"That's your answer, then?"

"That's all the answer I can give till I see himself, as I said. "

"Well, good-bye, Bryan, an' God be wid you!"

"Good-bye, Peety!" and thus they parted. 

CHAPTER III. --Jemmy Burke Refuses to be, Made a Fool Of

--Hycy and a Confidant

Hycy Burke was one of those persons who, under the appearance of asomewhat ardent temperament, are capable of abiding the issue ofan event with more than ordinary patience. Having not the slightestsuspicion of the circumstance which occasioned Bryan M'Mahon'sresentment, he waited for a day of two under the expectation that hisfriend was providing the sum necessary to accommodate him. The thirdand fourth days passed, however, without his having received any replywhatsoever; and Hycy, who had set his heart upon Crazy Jane, onfinding that his father--who possessed as much firmness as he did ofgenerosity--absolutely refused to pay for her, resolved to lose no moretime in putting Bryan's friendship to the test. To this, indeed, he wasurged by Burton, a wealthy but knavish country horse-dealer, as we said, who wrote to him that unless he paid for her within a given period, hemust be under the necessity of closing with a person who had offeredhim a higher price. This message was very offensive to Hycy, whosegreat foible, as the reader knows, was to be considered a gentleman, notmerely in appearance, but in means and circumstances. He consequentlyhad come to the determination of writing again to M'Mahon upon the samesubject, when chance brought them together in the market of Ballymacan. 

After the usual preliminary inquiries as to health, Hycy opened thematter:--

"I asked you to lend me five-and-thirty pounds to secure Crazy Jane, "said he, "and you didn't even answer my letter. I admit I'm prettydeeply in your debt, as it is, my dear Bryan, but you know I'm safe. "

"I'm not at this moment thinking much of money matters, Hycy; but, as you like plain speaking, I tell you candidly that I'll lend you nomoney. "

Hycy's manner changed all at once; he looked at M'Mahon for nearly aminute, and said in quite a different tone--

"What is the cause of this coldness, Bryan? Have I offended you?"

"Not knowingly--but you have offended me; an' that's all I'll say aboutit. "

"I'm not aware of it, " replied the other---"my word and honor I'm not. "

Bryan felt himself in a position of peculiar difficulty; he could notopenly quarrel with Hycy, unless he made up his mind to disclose thegrounds of the dispute, which, as matters then stood between him andKathleen Cavanagh, to whom he had not actually declared his affection, would have been an act of great presumption on his part. 

"Good-bye, Hycy, " said he; "I have tould you my mind, and now I've donewith it. "

"With all my heart!" said the other--"that's a matter of taste on yourpart. You're offended, you say; yet you choose to put the offence inyour pocket. It's all right, I suppose--but you know best. Good-byeto you, at all events, " he added; "be a good boy and take care ofyourself. "

M'Mahon nodded with good-humored contempt in return, but spoke not. 

"By all that deserves an oath, " exclaimed Hycy, looking bitterly afterhim, "if I should live to the day of judgment I'll never forgive youyour insulting conduct this day--and that I'll soon make you feel toyour cost!"

This misunderstanding between the two friends caused Hycy to feel muchmortification and disappointment. After leaving M'Mahon, he went throughthe market evidently with some particular purpose in view, if one couldjudge from his manner. He first proceeded to the turf-market, and lookedwith searching eye among those who stood waiting to dispose of theirloads. From this locality he turned his steps successively to otherparts of the town, still looking keenly about him as he went along. Atlength he seemed disappointed or indifferent, it was difficult to saywhich, and stood coiling the lash of his whip in the dust, sometimesquite unconsciously, and sometimes as if a wager depended on the successwith which he did it--when, on looking down the street, he observed alittle broad, squat man, with a fiery red head, a face almost scaly withfreckles, wide projecting cheek-bones, and a nose so thoroughly of thesaddle species, that a rule laid across the base of it, immediatelybetween the eyes, would lie close to the whole front of his face. Inaddition to these personal accomplishments, he had a pair of strong bowlegs, terminating in two broad, flat feet, in complete keeping withhis whole figure, which, though not remarkable for symmetry, wasnevertheless indicative of great and extraordinary strength. He woreneither stockings nor cravat of any kind, but had a pair of strongclouted brogues upon his feet; thus disclosing to the spectator two legsand a breast that were covered over with a fell of red close hair thatmight have been long and strong enough for a badger. He carried in hishand a short whip, resembling a carrot in shape, and evidently of sucha description as no man that had any regard for his health would wish tocome in contact with, especially from the hand of such a double-jointedbut misshapen Hercules as bore it. 

"Ted, how goes it, my man?"

"_Ghe dhe shin dirthu, a dinaousal?_" replied Ted, surveying him with astare. 

"D--n you!" was about to proceed from Hycy's lips when he perceivedthat a very active magistrate, named Jennings, stood within hearing. Thelatter passed on, however, and Hycy proceeded:--"I was about to abuseyou, Ted, for coming out with your Irish to me, " he said, "until I sawJennings, and then I _had_ you. "

"Throgs, din, Meeisther Hycy, I don't like the _Bairlha_ (* Englishtongue)--'caise I can't sphake her properly, at all, at all. Come you'out wid the Gailick fwhor me, i' you plaise, Meeisther Hycy. "

"D--n your Gaelic!" replied Hycy--"no, I won't--I don't speak it. "

"The Laud forget you for that!" replied Ted, with a grin; "my ouldgrandmudher might larn it from you--hach, ach, ha!"

"None of your d--d impertinence, Ted. I want to speak to you. "

"Fwhat would her be?" asked Ted, with a face in which there might beread such a compound of cunning, vacuity, and ferocity as could rarelybe witnessed in the same countenance. 

"Can you come down to me to-night?"

"No; I'll be busy. "

"Where are you at work now?"

"In Glendearg, above. "

"Well, then, if you can't come to me, I must only go to you. Will you bethere tonight? I wish to speak to you on very particular business. "

"Shiss; you _will_, dhin, wanst more?" asked the other, significantly. 

"I think so. "

"Shiss--ay--vary good. Fwen will she come?"

"About eleven or twelve; so don't be from about the place anywhere. "

"Shiss---dhin--vary good. Is dhat all?"

"That's all now. Are your turf _dry_ or _wet_* to-day?"

 * One method of selling Poteen is by bringing in kishes of turf to the neighboring markets, when those who are up to the secret purchase the turf, or pretend to do so; and while in the act of discharging the load, the Keg of Poteen is quickly passed into the house of him who purchases the turf. --Are your turf wet or dry? was, consequently, a pass- word. 

"Not vary dhry, " replied Ted, with a grin so wide that, as washumorously said by a neighbor of his, "it would take a telescope toenable a man to see from the one end of it to the other. "

Hycy nodded and laughed, and Ted, cracking his whip, proceeded up thetown to sell his turf. 

Hycy now sauntered about through the market, chatting here and thereamong acquaintances, with the air of a man to whom neither life noranything connected with it could occasion any earthly trouble. Indeed, it mattered little what he felt, his easiness of manner was such thatnot one of his acquaintances could for a moment impute to him thepossibility of ever being weighed down by trouble or care of any kind;and lest his natural elasticity of spirits might fail to sustain thisperpetual buoyancy, he by no means neglected to fortify himself withartificial support. Meet him when or where you might, be it at sixin the morning or twelve at night, you were certain to catch from hisbreath the smell of liquor, either in its naked simplicity or disguisedand modified in some shape. 

His ride home, though a rapid, was by no means a pleasing one. M'Mahonhad not only refused to lend him the money he stood in need of, butactually quarrelled with him, as far as he could judge, for no otherpurpose but that he might make the quarrel a plea for refusing him. Thisdisappointment, to a person of Hycy's disposition, was, we have seen, bitterly vexatious, and it may be presumed that he reached home inanything but an agreeable humor. Having dismounted, he was about toenter the hall-door, when his attention was directed towards that of thekitchen by a rather loud hammering, and on turning his eyes to thespot he found two or three tinkers very busily engaged in soldering, clasping, and otherwise repairing certain vessels belonging to that warmand spacious establishment. The leader of these vagrants was a man namedPhilip Hogan, a fellow of surprising strength and desperate character, whose feats of hardihood and daring had given him a fearful notorietyover a large district of the country. Hogan was a man whom almost everyone feared, being, from confidence, we presume, in his great strength, as well as by nature, both insolent, overbearing, and ruffianly in theextreme. His inseparable and appropriate companion was a fierce andpowerful bull-dog of the old Irish breed, which he had so admirablytrained that it was only necessary to give him a sign, and he wouldseize by the throat either man or beast, merely in compliance with thewill of his master. On this occasion he was accompanied by two of hisbrothers, who were, in fact, nearly as impudent and offensive ruffiansas himself. Hycy paused for a moment, seemed thoughtful, and tapped hisboot with the point of his whip as he looked at them. On entering theparlor he found dinner over, and his father, as was usual, waiting toget his tumbler of punch. 

"Where's my mother?" he asked--"where's Mrs. Burke?"

On uttering the last words he raised his voice so as she mightdistinctly hear him. 

"She's above stairs gettin' the whiskey, " replied his father, "and Godknows she's long enough about it. "

Hycy ran up, and meeting her on the lobby, said, in a low, anxiousvoice--

"Well, what news? Will he stand it?"

"No, " she replied, "you may give up the notion--he won't do it, an'there's no use in axin' him any more. "

"He won't do it!" repeated the son; "are you certain now?"

"Sure an' sartin. I done all that could be done; but it's worse an'worse he got. "

Something escaped Hycy in the shape of an ejaculation, of which we arenot in possession at present; he immediately added:--

"Well, never mind. Heavens! how I pity you, ma'am--to be united to sucha d--d--hem!--to such a--a--such a--gentleman!"

Mrs. Burke raised her hands as if to intimate that it was useless toindulge in any compassion of the kind. 

"The thing's now past cure, " she said; "I'm a marthyr, an' that's allthat's about it. Come down till I get you your dinner. "

Hycy took his seat in the parlor, and began to give a stave of the "Bayof Biscay:"--

 "'Loud roar'd the dreadful thunder, The rain a deluge pours; The clouds were rent asunder By light'ning's vivid--'

By the way, mother, what are those robbing ruffians, the Hogans, doingat the kitchen door there?"

"Troth, whatever they like, " she replied. "I tould that vagabond, Philip, that I had nothing for them to do, an' says he, 'I'm the bestjudge of that, Rosha Burke. ' An, with that he walks into the kitchen, an' takes everything that he seen a flaw in, an' there he and them sata mendin' an' sotherin' an' hammerin' away at them, without ever sayin''by your lave. '"

"It's perfectly well known that they're robbers, " said Hycy, "and thegeneral opinion is that they're in connection with a Dublin gang, whoare in this part of the country at present. However, I'll speak to theruffians about such conduct. "

He then left the parlor, and proceeding to the farmyard, made a signalto one of the Hogans, who went down hammer in hand to where he stood. During a period of ten minutes, he and Hycy remained in conversation, but of what character it was, whether friendly or otherwise, thedistance at which they stood rendered it impossible for any one toascertain. Hycy then returned to dinner, whilst his father in themeantime sat smoking his pipe, and sipping from time to time at histumbler of punch. Mrs. Burke, herself, occupied an arm-chair to theleft of the fire, engaged at a stocking which was one of a pair that shecontrived to knit for her husband during every twelve months; and onthe score of which she pleaded strong claims to a character of mostexemplary and indefatigable industry. 

"Any news from the market, Hycy?" said his father. 

"Yes, " replied Hycy, in that dry ironical tone which he always used tohis parents--"rather interesting--Ballymacan is in the old place. "

"Bekaise, " replied his father, with more quickness than might beexpected, as he whiffed away the smoke with a face of very sarcastichumor; "I hard it had gone up a bit towards the mountains--but I knewyou wor the boy could tell me whether it had or not--ha!--ha!--ha!"

This rejoinder, in addition to the intelligence Hycy had just receivedfrom his mother, was not calculated to improve his temper. "You maylaugh, " he replied; "but if your respectable father had treated you in aspirit so stingy and beggarly as that which I experience at your hands, I don't know how you might have borne it. "

"My father!" replied Burke; "take your time, Hycy--my hand to you, hehad a different son to manage from what I have. "

"God sees that's truth, " exclaimed his wife, turning the expression toher son's account. 

"I was no gentleman, Hycy, " Burke proceeded. 

"Ah, is it possible?" said the son, with a sneer. "Are you sure of that, now?"

"Nor no spendthrift, Hycy. "

"No, " said the wife, "you never had the spirit; you were ever and alwaysa _molshy_. " (* A womanly, contemptible fellow)

"An' yet _molshy_ as I was, " he replied, "you wor glad to catch me. But Hycy, my good boy, I didn't cost my father at the rate of from ahundre'-an'-fifty to two-hundre'-a-year, an' get myself laughed at andsnubbed by my superiors, for forcin' myself into their company. "

"Can't you let the boy ait his dinner in peace, at any rate?" said hismother. "Upon my credit I wouldn't be surprised if you drove him awayfrom us altogether. "

"I only want to drive him into common sense, and the respectful feelinghe ought to show to both you an' me, Rosha, " said Burke; "if he expectsto have either luck or grace, or the blessing of God upon him, he'llchange his coorses, an' not keep breakin' my heart as he's doin'. "

"Will you pay for the mare I bought, father?" asked Hycy, veryseriously. "I have already told you, that I paid three guineas earnest;I hope you will regard your name and family so far as to prevent me frombreaking my word--besides leading the world to suppose that you are apoor man. "

"Regard my name and family!" returned the father, with a look ofbitterness and sorrow; "who is bringin' them into disgrace, Hycy?"

"In the meantime, " replied the son, "I have asked a plain question, Mr. Burke, and I expect a plain answer; will you pay for the mare?"

"An' supposin' I don't?"

"Why, then, Mr. Burke, if you don't you won't, that's all. "

"I must stop some time, " replied his father, "an' that is now. I wontpay for her. "

"Well then, sir, I shall feel obliged, as your respectable wife has justsaid, if you will allow me to eat, and if possible, live in peace. "

"I'm speakin' only for your--"

"That will do now--hush--silence if you please. "

"Hycy dear, " said the mother; "why would you ax him another questionabout it? Drop the thing altogether. "

"I will, mother, but I pity you; in the meantime, I thank you, ma'am, ofyour advice. "

"Hycy, " she continued, with a view of changing the conversation; "didyou hear that Tom M'Bride's dead?"

"No ma'am, but I expected it; when did he die?"

Before his father could reply, a fumbling was heard at the hall-door;and, the next moment, Hogan, thrust in his huge head and shoulders beganto examine the lock by attempting to turn the key in it. 

"Hogan, what are you about?" asked Hycy. 

"I beg your pardon, " replied the ruffian; "I only wished to know if thelock wanted mendin'--that was all, Misther Hycy. "

"Begone, sirra, " said the other; "how dare you have the presumption totake such a liberty? you impudent scoundrel! Mother, you had better paythem, " he added; "give the vagabonds anything they ask, to get rid ofthem. "

Having dined, her worthy son mixed a tumbler of punch, and whiledrinking it, he amused himself, as was his custom, by singing snatchesof various songs, and drumming with his fingers upon the table; whilstevery now and then he could hear the tones of his mother's voice in highaltercation with Hogan and his brothers. This, however, after a time, ceased, and she returned to the parlor a good deal chafed by thedispute. 

"There's one thing I wonder at, " she observed, "that of all men in theneighborhood, Gerald Cavanagh would allow sich vagabonds as they an KateHogan is, to put in his kiln. Troth, Hycy, " she added, speaking to himin a warning and significant tone of voice, "if there wasn't somethinglow an' mane in him, he wouldn't do it. "

 "'Tis when the cup is smiling before us. And we pledge unto our hearts--'

"Your health, mother. Mr. Burke, here's to you! Why I dare say you areright, Mrs. Burke. The Cavanagh family is but an upstart one at best;it wants antiquity, ma'am--a mere affair of yesterday, so what after allcould you expect from it?"

Honest Jemmy looked at him and then groaned. "An upstartfamily!--that'll do--oh, murdher--well, 'tis respectable at all events;however, as to havin' the Hogans about them--they wor always about them;it was the same in their father's time. I remember ould Laghlin Hogan, an' his whole clanjamfrey, men an' women, young an' old, wor near sixmonths out o' the year about ould Gerald Cavanagh's--the present man'sfather; and another thing you may build upon--that whoever ud chanceto speak a hard word against one o' the Cavanagh family, before PhilipHogan or any of his brothers, would stand a strong chance of a shirtfulo' sore bones. Besides, we all know how Philip's father saved Mrs. Cavanagh's life about nine or ten months after her marriage. At anyrate, whatever bad qualities the vagabonds have, want of gratitude isn'tamong them. "

 "'------That are true, boys, true, The sky of this life opens o'er us, And heaven--'

M'Bride, ma'am, will be a severe loss to his family. "

"Throth he will, and a sarious loss--for among ourselves, there was noneo' them like him. "

 "'Gives a glance of its blue--'

"I think I ought to go to the wake to-night. I know it's a bit of adescent on my part, but still it is scarcely more than is due to adecent neighbor. Yes, I shall go; it is determined on. "

 "'I ga'ed a waefu' gate yestreen, A gate I fear I'll dearly rue; I gat my death frae twa sweet een, Twa lovely een o' bonnie blue. '

"Mine are brown, Mrs. Burke--the eyes you wot of; but alas! the family isan upstart one, and that is strongly against the Protestant interest inthe case. Heigho!"

Jemmy Burke, having finished his after-dinner pipe and his daily tumblerboth together, went out to his men; and Hycy, with whom he had left thedrinking materials, after having taken a tumbler or two, put on a strongpair of boots, and changed the rest of his dress for a coarser 'suit, bade his mother a polite good-bye, and informed her, that as he intendedto be present at M'Bride's wake he would most probably not return untilnear morning. 

CHAPTER IV. --A Poteen Still-House at Midnight--Its Inmates. 

About three miles in a south-western direction from Burke's residence, the country was bounded by a range of high hills and mountains of a veryrugged and wild, but picturesque description. Although a portion ofthe same landscape, yet nothing could be more strikingly distinct incharacter than the position of the brown wild hills, as contrasted withthat of the mountains from which they abutted. The latter ran in longand lofty ranges that were marked by a majestic and sublime simplicity, whilst the hills were of all shapes and sizes, and seemed as if castabout at random. As a matter of course the glens and valleys thatdivided them ran in every possible direction, sometimes crossing andintersecting each other at right angles, and sometimes running parallel, or twisting away in opposite directions. In one of those glens that laynearest the mountains, or rather indeed among them, was a spot whichfrom its peculiar position would appear to have been designed from thevery beginning as a perfect paradise for the illicit distiller. It was akind of back chamber in the mountains, that might, in fact, have escapedobservation altogether, as it often did. The approach to it was by along precipitous glen, that could be entered only at its lower end, andseemed to terminate against the abrupt side of the mountain, like acul de sac. At the very extremity, however, of this termination, and alittle on the right-hand side, there was a steep, narrow pass leadinginto a recess which was completely encompassed by precipices. From thisthere was only one means of escape independently of the gut throughwhich it was entered. The moors on the side most approachable werelevel, and on a line to the eye with that portion of the mountains whichbounded it on the opposite side, so that as one looked forward the spaceappeared to be perfectly continuous, and consequently no person couldsuspect that there lay so deep and precipitous a glen between them. 

In the northern corner of this remarkable locality, a deep cave, havingevery necessary property as a place for private distillation, ran underthe rocks, which met over it in a kind of gothic arch. A stream of waterjust sufficient for the requisite purposes, fell in through a fissurefrom above, forming such a little subterraneous cascade in the cavernas human design itself could scarcely have surpassed in felicity ofadaptation to the objects of an illicit distiller. 

To this cave, then, we must take the liberty of transporting ourreaders, in order to give them an opportunity of getting a peep atthe inside of a Poteen Still-house, and of hearing a portion ofconversation, which, although not remarkable for either elegance oredification, we are, nevertheless, obliged to detail, as being in somedegree necessary to the elucidation of our narrative. Up in that endwhich constituted the termination of the cave, and fixed upon a largeturf fire which burned within a circle of stones that supported it, wasa tolerably-sized Still, made of block-tin. The mouth of this Still wasclosed by an air-tight cover, also of tin, called the Head, from which atube of the same metal projected into a large keeve, or condenser, thatwas kept always filled with cool water by an incessant stream from thecascade we have described, which always ran into and overflowed it. Thearm of this head was fitted and made air-tight, also, into a spiral tubeof copper, called the Worm, which rested in the water of the cooler; andas it consisted of several convolutions, like a cork-screw, its officewas to condense the hot vapor which was transmitted to it from theglowing Still into that description of spirits known as poteen. At thebottom of this cooler, the Worm terminated in a small cock or spigot, from which the spirits projected in a slender stream, about thethickness of a quill, into a vessel placed for its reception. Such wasthe position of the Still, Head, and Worm, when in full operation. Fixed about the cave, upon rude stone stillions, were the usual vesselsrequisite for the various processes through which it was necessary toput the malt, before the wort, which is its first liquid shape, wasfermented, cleared off, and thrown into the Still to be singled; forour readers must know that distillation is a double process, the firstproduct being called singlings, and the second or last, doublings--whichis the perfect liquor. Sacks of malt, empty vessels, piles of turf, heaps of grains, tubs of wash, and kegs of whiskey, were lying about inall directions, together with pots, pans, wooden trenchers, and dishes, for culinary uses. The seats were round stones and black bosses whichwere made of a light hard moss found in the mountains and bogs, andfrequently used as seats in rustic chimney corners. On entering, yournose was assailed by such a mingled stench of warm grains, sour barm, putrid potato skins, and strong whiskey, as required considerablefortitude to bear without very unequivocal tokens of disgust. 

The persons assembled were in every way worthy of the place and itsdependencies. Seated fronting the fire was our friend Teddy Phats, whichwas the only name he was ever known by, his wild, beetle brows lit intoa red, frightful glare of savage mirth that seemed incapable, in itshighest glee, to disengage itself entirely from an expression of theman's unquenchable ferocity. Opposite to him sat a tall, smut-faced, truculent-looking young fellow, with two piercing eyes and a pair ofgrim brows, which, when taken into conjunction with a hard, unfeelingmouth, from the corners of which two right lines ran down his chin, giving that part of his face a most dismal expression, constituteda countenance that matched exceedingly well with the visage of TeddyPhats. This worthy gentleman was a tinker, and one of Hogan's brothers, whom we have already introduced to our readers. Scattered about the fireand through the cavern were a party of countrymen who came to purchasewhiskey for a wedding, and three or four publicans and shebeenmen whohad come on professional business. Some were drinking, some indulging insong, and some were already lying drunk or asleep in different partsof this subterraneous pandemonium. Exalted in what was considered theposition of honor sat a country hedge-schoolmaster, his mellow eyebeaming with something between natural humor, a sense of his ownimportance, and the influence of pure whiskey, fresh it is called, fromthe Still-eye. 

"Here, Teddy, " said one of the countrymen, "will you fill the bottleagain. "

"No, " replied Teddy, who though as cunning as the devil himself, couldseldom be got to speak anything better than broken English, and that ofsuch a character that it was often scarcely intelligible. 

"No, " he replied; "I gav'd you wan bottle 'idout payment fwhor her, an'by shapers I won't give none oder. "

"Why, you burning beauty, aren't we takin' ten gallons, an' will youbegrudge us a second bottle?"

"Shiss--devil purshue de bottle more ye'll drunk here 'idout de_airigad_, (* Money) dat's fwhat you will. "

"Teddy, " said the schoolmaster, "I drink propitiation to you as aprofissional gintle-man! No man uses more indepindent language than youdo. You are under no earthly obligation to Messrs. Syntax and Prosody. Grammar, my worthy friend, is banished as an intruder from yourelocution, just as you would exclude a gauger from your Still-house. "

"Fwhat about de gagur!" exclaimed Teddy, starting; "d--n him an'shun-tax an' every oder tax, rint an' all--hee! hee! hee!"

We may as well let our readers know, before we proceed farther, that inthe opinion of many, Teddy Phats understood and could speak English aswell as any man of his station in the country. In fairs or markets, orother public places, he spoke, it is true, nothing but Irish unless in aprivate way, and only to persons in whom he thought he could place everyconfidence. It was often observed, however, that in such conversationshe occasionally arranged the matter of those who could use only Englishto him, in such a way as proved pretty clearly that he must havepossessed a greater mastery over that language than he acknowledged. Webelieve the fact to be, however, that Teddy, as an illicit distiller, had found it, on some peculiar occasions connected with his profession, rather an inconvenient accomplishment to know English. He had given someevidence in his day, and proved, or attempted to prove, a few alibies onbehalf of his friends; and he always found, as there is good reason tobelieve, that the Irish language, when properly enunciated through themedium of an interpreter, was rather the safer of the two, especiallywhen resorted to within the precincts of the country court-house and inhearing of the judge. 

"You're a fool, Teddy, " said Hogan; "let them drink themselves;blind--this liquor's paid for; an' if they lose or spill it by the 'way, why, blazes to your purty mug, don't you know they'll have to pay foranother cargo. "

Teddy immediately took the hint. 

"Barney Brogan, " he shouted to a lubberly-looking, bullet-headed cub, half knave, half fool, who lived about such establishments, and actedas messenger, spy, and vidette; "listen hedher! bring Darby Keenan deredat bottle, an' let 'em drink till de grace o' God comes on 'em--ha, ha, ha!"

"More power to you, Vaynus, " exclaimed Keenan; "you're worth a thousandpounds, quarry weight. "

"I am inclined to think, Mr. Keenan, " said the schoolmaster, "that youare in the habit occasionally of taking slight liberties wid the haythenmythology. Little, I'll be bound, the divine goddess of beauty everdreamt she'd find a representative in Teddy Phats. "

"Bravo! masther, " replied Keenan, "you're the boy can do--only thatEnglish is too tall for me. At any rate, " he added, approaching theworthy preceptor, "take a spell o' this--it's a language we can allunderstand. "

"You mane to say, Darby, " returned the other, "that it's a kind ofuniversal spelling-book amongst us, and so it is--an alphabet aisilylarned. Your health, now and under all circumstances! Teddy, orThaddeus, I drink to your symmetry and inexplicable proportions; andI say for your comfort, my worthy distillator, that if you are not sorefulgent in beauty as Venus, you are a purer haythen. "

"Fwhat a bloody fwhine _Bairlha_ man the meeisther is, " said Teddy, witha grin. "Fwhaicks, meeisthur, your de posey of Tullyticklem, spishillywid Captain Fwhiskey at your back. You spake de Bairlha up den jist allas one as nobody could understand her--ha, ha, ha!"

The master, whose name was Finigan, or, as he wished to be called, O'Finigan, looked upon Teddy and shook his head very significantly. 

"I'm afraid, my worthy distallator, " he proceeded, "that the proverbwhich says '_latet anguis in herba_, ' is not inapplicable in yourcase. I think I can occasionally detect in these ferret-like orbsthat constitute such an attractive portion of your beauty, a passingscintillation of intelligence which you wish to keep _a secretis_, asthey say. "

"Mr. Finigan, " said Keenan, who had now returned to his friends, "ifyou wouldn't be betther employed to-morrow, you'd be welcome to theweddin'. "

"Many thanks, Mr. Keenan, " replied Finigan; "I accept your hospitableoffer wid genuine cordiality. To-morrow will be a day worthy of a whitemark to all parties concerned. Horace calls it chalk, which is probablythe most appropriate substance with which the records of matrimonialfelicity could be registered, _crede experto_. "

"At any rate, Misther Finigan, give the boys a holiday to-morrow, and bedown wid us airly. "

"There is not, " replied Finigan, who was now pretty well advanced, "Ibelieve widin the compass of written or spoken language--and I mighton that subject appeal to Mr. Thaddeus O'Phats here, who is a goodauthority on that particular subject, or indeed on any one that involvesthe beauty of elocution--I say, then, there is not widin the compass ofspoken language a single word composed of two syllables so delectableto human ears, as is that word 'dismiss, ' to the pupils of a _PlantationSeminary_; (* A modest periphrasis for a Hedge-School) and I assure youthat those talismanic syllables shall my youthful pupils hear correctlypronounced to-morrow about ten o'clock. "

Whilst O'Finigan was thus dealing out the king's English with suchcomplacent volubility--a volubility that was deeply indebted to theliquor he had taken--the following dialogue took place in a cautiousunder-tone between Batt Hogan and Teddy. 

"So Hycy the sportheen is to be up here to-night?"

"Shiss. "

"B--t your shiss! can't you spake like a Christian?"

"No, I won't, " replied the other, angrily; "I'll spake as I likes. "

"What brings him up, do you know?"

"Bekaise he's goin' to thry his misfortune upon _her_ here, " he replied, pointing to the still. "_You'll_ have a good job of her, fwhedher orno. "

"Why, will he want a new one, do you think?"

"Shiss, to be sure--would ye tink I'd begin to _run_ (* A slang phrasefor distilling) for him on dis ould skillet? an' be de token moreover, dat wouldn't be afther puttin' nothin' in your pockets--hee! hee! hee!"

"Well, all that's right--don't work for him widout a new one complate, Teddy--Still, Head, and Worm. "

"Shiss, I tell you to be sure I won't--he thried her afore, though. "

"Nonsense!--no he didn't. "

"Ah, ha! ay dhin--an' she milked well too--a good cow--a brave_cheehony_ she was for him. "

"An' why did he give it up?"

"Fwhy--fwhy, afeard he'd be diskivered, to be sure; an' dhin shure hecouldn't hunt wid de _dinnaousais_--wid de gentlemans. "

"An' what if he's discovered now?"

"Fwhat?--fwhy so much the worsher for you an' me: he's ginerous now an'den, anyway; but a great rogue afther all, fwher so high a hid as hecarries. "

"If I don't mistake, " proceeded Hogan, "either himself or his family, anyhow, will be talked of before this time to-morrow. "

"Eh, Batt?" asked the other, who had changed his position and sat besidehim during this dialogue--"how is dhat now?"

"I don't rightly know--I can't say, " replied Hogan, with a smilemurderously grim but knowing--"I'm not up; but the sportheen's a madeboy, I think. "

"_Dher cheerna!_ you _are_ up, " said Teddy, giving him a furious glanceas he spoke; "there must be no saycrits, I say. "

"You're a blasted liar, I tell you--I am not, but I suspect--that'sall. "

"What brought you up dhis night?" asked Teddy, suspiciously. 

"Because I hard he was to come, " replied his companion; "but whether ornot I'd be here. "

"_Tha sha maigh_--it's right--may be so--shiss, it's all right, may beso--well?"

Teddy, although he said it was all right, did not seem however to thinkso. The furtive and suspicious glance which he gave Hogan from under hisred beetle brows should be seen in order to be understood. 

"Well?" said Hogan, re-echoing him--"it is well; an' what is more, myKate is to be up here wid a pair o' geese to roast for us, for we mustmake him comfortable. She wint to thry her hand upon somebody's roost, an' it'll go hard if she fails!"

"Fwhail!" exclaimed Teddy, with a grin--"ah, the dioual a fwhail!"

"An' another thing--he's comin' about Kathleen Cavanagh--Hycy is. Hewants to gain our intherest about her!"

"Well, an' what harm?"

"Maybe there is, though, it's whispered that he--hut! doesn't he sayhimself that there isn't a girl of his own religion in the parish he'dmarry--now I'd like to see them married, Teddy, but as for anythingelse--"

"Hee! hee! hee!--well, " exclaimed Teddy, with a horrible grimace thatgave his whole countenance a facequake, "an' maybe he's right. Maybe it'udn't be aisy to get a colleen of his religion--I tink his religion isfwhere Phiddher Fwhite's estate is--beyant the beyands, Avhere the marefoaled the fwhiddler--hee! hee! hee!"

"He had better thry none of his sckames wid any of the Cavanaghs, "said Bat, "for fraid he might be brought to bed of a mistake some fineday--that's all I say; an' there's more eyes than mine upon him. "

This dialogue was nearly lost in the loudness of a debate which hadoriginated with Keenan and certain of his friends in the lower part ofthe still-house. Some misunderstanding relative to the families of theparties about to be united had arisen, and was rising rapidly into acomparative estimate of the prowess and strength of their respectivefactions, and consequently assuming a very belligerent aspect, when atall, lank, but powerful female, made her appearance, carrying a largebundle in her hand. 

"More power, Kate!" exclaimed Hogan. "I knew she would, " he added, digging Teddy's ribs with his elbow. 

"Aisy, man!" said his companion; "if you love me, say so, but don't hintit dat way. "

"Show forth, Kate!" proceeded her husband; "let us see theprog--hillo!--oh, holy Moses! what a pair o' beauties!"

He then whipped up a horn measure, that contained certainly more thana naggin, and putting it under the warm spirits that came out of thestill-eye, handed it to her. She took it, and coming up towards thefire, which threw out a strong light, nodded to them, and, withoutsaying a word, literally pitched it down her throat, whilst at the sametime one of her eyes presented undeniable proofs of a recent conflict. We have said that there were several persons singing and dancing, and some asleep, in the remoter part of the cave; and this was true, although we refrained from mingling up either their mirth or melody withthe conversation of the principal personages. All at once, however, a series of noises, equally loud and unexpected, startled melodists, conversationalists, and sleepers all to their legs. These were no otherthan the piercing cackles of two alarmed geese which Hogan's wife hadsecured from some neighboring farmer, in order to provide a supper forour friend Hycy. 

"Ted, " said the female, "I lost my knife since I came out, or they'd bequiet enough before this; lend me one a minute, you blissed babe. "

"Shiss, to be sure, Kate, " he replied, handing her a large clasp knifewith a frightful blade; "an', Kate, whisper, woman alive--you're boughtup, I see. "

"How is that, you red rascal?"

"Bekaise, don't I see dat de purchaser has set his mark upon ye?--hee!hee! hee!" and he pointed to her eye* as he spoke. 

 * A black eye is said to be the devil's mark. 

"No, " she replied, nodding towards her husband, "that's his handy work;an' ye divil's clip!" she added, turning to Teddy, "who has a bettherright?"

She then bled the geese, and, looking about her, asked--

"Have you any wet hay or straw in the place?"

"Ay, plenty of bote, " replied Teddy; "an' here's de greeshavigh ready. "

She then wrapped the geese, feathers and all, separately in a coveringof wet hay, which she bound round them with thumb-ropes of the samematerial, and clearing away a space among the burning ashes, placed eachof them in it, and covered them up closely. 

"Now, " said she, "put down a pot o' praities, and we won't go to bedfastin'. "

The different groups had now melted into one party, much upon the sameprinciple that the various little streamlets on the mountains aroundthem all run, when swollen by a sudden storm, into some larger torrentequally precipitous and turbulent. Keenan, who was one of thosepertinacious fellows that are equally quarrelsome and hospitable when inliquor, now resumed the debate with a characteristic impression of thepugilistic superiority of his family:--

"I am right, I say: I remember it well, for although I wasn't theremyself, my father was, an' I often h'ard him say--God rest hissowl!"--here he reverently took off his hat and looked upwards--"I oftenh'ard him say that Paddy Keenan gave Mullin the first knock-down blow, an' Pether--I mane no disrespect, but far from it--give us your hand, man alive--you're going to be married upon my shisther to-morrow, plaise God!--masther, you'll come, remimber? you'll be as welcome as theflowers o' May, masther--so, Pether, as I was sayin'--I mane no offincenor disrespect to you or yours, for you are, an' ever was, a daisentfamily, an' well able to fight your corner when it came upon you--butstill, Pether--an' for all that--I say it--an' I'll stand to it--I'llstand it--that's the chat!--that, man for man, there never was oneo' your seed, breed, or generation able to fight a Keenan--that's thechat!--here's luck!

 "'Oh, 'twas in the month of May, When the lambkins sport and play, As I walked out to gain raycrayation, I espied a comely maid. Sequestrin' in the shade-- On her beauty I gazed wid admiraytion, '

No, Pether, you never could; the Mullins is good men--right good men, but they couldn't do it. "

"Barney, " said the brother of the bridegroom, "you may thank God thatPether is going to be married to your sisther to-morrow as you say, orwe'd larn you another lesson--eh, masther? That's the chat too--ha! ha!ha! To the divil wid sich impedence!"

"Gintlemen, " said Finigan, now staggering down towards the parties, "Iam a man of pacific principles, acquainted wid the larned languages, wid mathematics, wid philosophy, the science of morality according toFluxions--I grant you, I'm not college-bred; but, gintlemen, I neverinvied the oysther in its shell--for, gintlemen, I'm not ashamed ofit, but I acquired--I absorbed my laming, I may say, upon locomotiveprinciples. "

"Bravo, masther!" said Keenan; "that's what some o' them couldn't say--"

"Upon locomotive principles. I admit Munster, gintlemen--gloriousKerry!--yes, and I say I am not ashamed of it. I do plead guilty to theperipatetic system: like a comet I travelled during my juvenile days--asI may truly assert wid a slight modicum of latitude" (here he lurchedconsiderably to the one side)--"from star to star, until I was able toexhibit all their brilliancy united simply, I can safely assert, in myown humble person. Gintlemen, I have the honor of being able to write'Philomath' after my name--which is O'Finigan, not Finigan, by anymeans--and where is the oyster in his shell could do that? Yes, andalthough they refused me a sizarship in Trinity College--for what willnot fear and envy do?

 "'Tantaene animis celesiibus irae'

Yet I have the consolation to know that my name is seldom mentionedamong the literati of classical Kerry--_nudis cruribus_ as theyare--except as the Great O'Finigan! In the mane time--"

"Bravo, Masther!" exclaimed Keenan, interrupting him. "Here, Ted!another bottle, till the Great O'Finigan gets a glass of whiskey. "

"Yes, gintlemen, " proceeded O'Finigan, "the alcohol shall be accepted, _puris naturalibus_--which means, in its native--or more properly--butwhich comes to the same thing--in its naked state; and, in the manetime, I propose the health of one of my best benefactors--GeraldCavanagh, whose hospitable roof is a home--a domicilium to eruditionand respectability, when they happen, as they ought, to be legitimatelyconcatenated in the same person--as they are in your humble servant; andI also beg leave to add the pride of the barony, his fair and virtuousdaughter, Kathleen, in conjunction wid the I accomplished son of anotherbenefactor of mine--honest James Burke--in conjunction, I say, wid hisson, Mr. Hyacinth. Ah, gintlemen--Billy Clinton, you thievin' villain!you don't pay attention; I say, gintlemen, if I myself could deducta score of years from the period of my life, I should endeavor to runthrough the conjugations of _amo_ in society wid that pearl of beauty. In the mane time--"

"Here's her health, masther, " returned Keenan, "an' her father's too, an' Hycy Burke's into the bargain--is there any more o' them? Well, nomatter. " Then turning to his antagonist, he added, "I say agin, thin, that a Mullin's not a match for a Keenan, nor never was--no, nor neverwill be! That's the chat! and who's afeard to say it? eh, masther?"

"It's a lie!" shouted one of the opposite party; "I'm able to lick e'era Keenan that ever went on nate's leather--an' that's my chat. "

A blow from Keenan in reply was like a spark to gunpowder. In a momentthe cavern presented a scene singularly tragic-comic; the whole partywas one busy mass of battle, with the exception of Ted and Batt, and thewife of the latter, who, having first hastily put aside everything thatmight be injured, stood enjoying the conflict with most ferocious glee, the schoolmaster having already withdrawn himself to his chair. EvenBarney Broghan, the fool, could not keep quiet, but on the contrary, thrust himself into the quarrel, and began to strike indiscriminately atall who came in his way, until an unlucky blow on the nose happening, to draw his claret very copiously, he made a bound up behind the sill, uttering a series of howlings, as from time to time he looked at his ownblood, that were amusing in the extreme. As it happened, however, theinfluence of liquor was too strong upon both parties to enable themto inflict on each other any serious injury. Such, however, was themidnight pastime of the still-house when our friend Hycy entered. 

"What in the devil's name--or the guager's--which is worse--" he asked, addressing himself to Batt and Teddy, "is the meaning of all this?"

"Faith, you know a'most as much about it, " replied Hogan, laughing, "aswe do; they got drunk, an' that accounts for it. "

"Mr. Burke, " said Finigan, who was now quite tipsy; "I am delighted tobe able to--to--yes, it is he, " he added, speaking to himself--"to seeyou well. "

"I have my doubts as to that, Mr. Finigan, " replied Hycy. 

"Fame, Mr. Burke, " continued the other, "has not been silent with regardto your exploits. Your horsemanship, sir, and the trepid pertinacitywith which you fasten upon the reluctant society of men of rank, havegiven you a notorious celebrity, of which your worthy father, honestJemmy, as he is called, ought to be justly proud. And you shine, Mr. Burke, in the loves as well as in the--_tam veneri quam_--I was about toadd _Marti_, but it would be inappropriate, or might only remind youof poor Biddy Martin. It is well known you are a most accomplishedgintleman, Mr. Burke--_homo fadus ad unguem--ad unguem_. "

Hycy would have interrupted the schoolmaster, but that he felt puzzledas to whether he spoke seriously or ironically; his attention besideswas divided between him and the party in conflict. 

"Come, " said he, addressing Hogan and Teddy, "put an end to this work, and why did you, you misbegotten vagabond, " he added, turning to thelatter, "suffer these fellows to remain here when you knew I was to comeup?"

"I must shell my fwisky, " replied Teddy, sullenly, "fwhedher you come orstay. "

"If you don't clear the place of them instantly, " replied Hycy, "I shallreturn home again. "

Hogan seemed a good deal alarmed at this intimation, and said--"Ay, indeed, Terry, we had better put them out o' this. "

"Fwhor fwhat?" asked Teddy, "dere my best customers shure--an' fwlaywould I quarrel wid 'em all fwor wan man?"

"Good-night, then, you misshapen ruffian, " said Burke, about to go. 

"Aisy, Mr. Burke, " said. Hogan; "well soon make short work wid them. Here, Ted, you devil's catch-penny, come an' help me! Hillo, here!" heshouted, "what are you at, you gallows crew? Do you want to go to thestone jug, I say? Be off out o' this--here's the guager, blast him, an'the sogers! Clear out, I tell you, or every mother's son of you willsleep undher the skull and cross-bones to-night. " (* Meaning the CountyPrison)

"Here you, Barney, " whispered Teddy, who certainly did not wish thatBurke should return as he came; "here, you great big fwhool you, givepast your yowlin' dere--and lookin' at your blood--run out dere, come inan' shout the gauger an' de sogers. "

Barney, who naturally imagined that the intelligence was true, compliedwith the order he had received in a spirit of such alarming and dreadfulearnestness, that a few minutes found the still-house completely clearedof the two parties, not excepting Hogan himself, who, having heardnothing of Teddy's directions to the fool, took it now for granted thatthat alarm was a real one, and ran along with the rest. The schoolmasterhad fallen asleep, Kate Hogan was engaged in making preparations forsupper at the lower end of the casern, and the fool had been dispatchedto fetch Hogan himself back, so that Hycy now saw there was a goodopportunity for stating at more length than he could in the market thepurpose of his visit. 

"Teddy, " said he, "now that the coast's clear, let us lose no time incoming to the point. You are aware that Bryan M'Mahon has come into themountain farm of Ahadarra by the death of his uncle. "

"Shiss; dese three years. "

"You will stick to your cursed brogue, " said the other; "however, that'syour own affair. You are aware of this?"

"I am. "

"Well, I have made my mind up to take another turn at this, " and hetapped the side of the still with his stick; "and I'll try it there. Idon't know a better place, and it is much more convenient than this. "

Teddy looked at him from under his brows, but seemed rather at a loss tocomprehend his meaning. 

"Fwor fhy 'ud you go to Ahadarra?"

"It's more convenient, and quite as well adapted for it as this place, or nearly. "

"Well! Shiss, well?"

"Well; why that's all I have to say about it, except that I'm not to beseen or known in the business at all--mark that. "

"Shiss--well? De Hogans must know it?"

"I am aware of that; we couldn't go on without them. This running ofyour's will soon be over; very well. You can go to Ahadarra to-morrowand pitch upon a proper situation for a house. These implements willdo. "

"No, dey won't; I wouldn't tink to begin at all wid dat ould skillet. You must get de Hogans to make a new Still, Head and Worm, an' dat willbe money down. "

"Very well; I'll provide the needful; let Philip call to me in a day ortwo. "

"Dat Ahadarra isn't so safe, " said Teddy. "Fwhy wouldn't you carry it onhere?" and he accompanied the query with a piercing-glance as he spoke. 

"Because, " replied Hycy, "I have been seen here too often already, andmy name must not in any way be connected with your proceedings. Thisplace, besides, is now too much known. It's best and safest to changeour bob, Ted. "

"Dere's trewt in dhat, anyhow, " said the other, now evidently moresatisfied as to Hycy's motive in changing. "But, " he added, "as youis now to schange, it 'ud be gooder to shange to some better place norAhadarra. "

"I know of none better or safer, " said Burke. 

"Ay, fifty, " returned his companion, resuming his suspicious looks; "butno matther, any way you must only plaise yerself--'tis all the shame tome. "

"Ahadarra it must be then, " said the other, "and that ends it. "

"Vary well, den, Ahadarra let her be, " said Ted, and the conversation onthis subject dropped. 

The smuggler's supper now made it's appearance. The geese werebeautifully done, and as Hycy's appetite had got a keen stimulus by hismountain walk, he rendered them ample justice. 

"Trot, " said Teddy, "sich a walk as you had droo de mountains was enoughto sharpen anybody's appetite. "

Hogan also plied him with punch, having provided himself with sugar forthat express purpose. Hycy, however, was particularly cautious, and fora long time declined to do more than take a little spirits and water. Itwas not, in fact, until he had introduced the name of Kathleen Cavanaghthat he consented to taste punch. Between the two, however, Burke'svanity was admirably played on; and Hogan wound up the dialogue byhinting that Hycy, no matter how appearances might go, was by no meansindifferent to the interesting daughter of the house of Cavanagh. 

At length, when the night was far advanced, Burke rose, and taking hisleave like a man who had forgotten some appointment, but with a verypompous degree of condescension, sought his way in the direction ofhome, across the mountains. 

He had scarcely gone, when Hogan, as if struck by a sudden recollection, observed as he thought it would be ungenerous to allow him, at thathour of the night, to cross the mountains by himself. He accordinglywhispered a few words to his wife, and left them with an intention, ashe said, to see Mr. Hycy safe home. 

CHAPTER V. --Who Robbed Jemmy Burke?

On the second morning after the night described in the last chapter, Bryan M'Mahon had just returned to his father's house from his farm inAhadarra, for the purpose of accompanying him to an Emigration auctionin the neighborhood. The two farms of Carriglass and Ahadarra had beenin the family of the M'Mahon's for generations, and were the propertyof the same landlord. About three years previous to the period of ournarrative, Toal M'Mahon, Bryan's uncle, died of an inflammatory attack, leaving to his eldest nephew and favorite the stock farm of Ahadarra. Toal had been a bachelor who lived wildly and extravagantly, and when hedied Bryan suceeeded to the farm, then as wild, by the way, and as muchneglected as its owner had been, with an arrear of two years' rent uponit. In fact the house and offices had gone nearly to wreck, and whenBryan entered into occupation he found that a large sum of moneyshould be expended in necessary improvements ere the place couldassume anything like a decent appearance. As a holding, however, itwas reasonable; and we may safely assert that if Toal M'Mahon had beeneither industrious or careful he might have lived and died a wealthyman upon it. As Ahadarra lay in the mountain district, it necessarilycovered a large space; in fact it constituted a townland in itself. Thegreater portion of it, no doubt, was barren mountain, but then therewere about three hundred acres of strong rough land that was eitherreclaimed or capable of being so. Bryan, who had not only energy andactivity, but capital to support both, felt, on becoming master of aseparate farm, that peculiar degree of pride which was only natural toa young and enterprising man. He had now a fair opportunity, he thought, of letting his friends see what skill and persevering exertion coulddo. Accordingly he commenced his improvements in a spirit which atleast deserved success. He proceeded upon the best system then known tointelligent agriculturalists, and nothing was left undone that he deemednecessary to work out his purposes. He drained, reclaimed, made fences, roads, and enclosures. Nor did he stop here. We said that the house andoffices were in a ruinous state when they came into his possession, andthe consequence was that he found it necessary to build a new dwellinghouse and suitable offices, which he did on a more commodious andeligible site. Altogether his expenditure on the farm could not havebeen less than eight hundred pounds at the period of the landlord'sdeath, which, as the reader knows is that at which we have commenced ournarrative. 

Thomas M'Mahon's family consisted of--first, his father, a grey-hairedpatriarch, who, though a very old man, was healthy and in the fullpossession of all his faculties; next, himself; then his wife; Bryan, the proprietor of Ahadarra; two other sons, both younger, and twodaughters, the eldest twenty, and the youngest about eighteen. The nameof the latter was Dora, a sweet and gentle girl, with beautiful auburnhair, dark, brilliant eyes, full of intellect and feeling, an exquisitemouth, and a figure which was remarkable for natural grace and greatsymmetry. 

"Well, Bryan, " said the father, "what news from Ahadarra?"

"Nothing particular from Ahadarra, " replied the son, "but ourgood-natured friend, Jemmy Burke, had his house broken open and robbedthe night before last. "

"Wurrah deheelish" exclaimed his mother, "no, he hadn't!"

"Well, mother, " replied Bryan, laughing, "maybe not. I'm afeard it's tootrue though. "

"An' how much did he lose?" asked his father. 

"Between seventy and eighty pounds, " said Bryan. 

"It's too much, " observed the other; "still I'm glad it's no more; an'since the villains did take it, it's well they tuck it from a man thatcan afford to lose it. "

"By all accounts, " said Arthur, or, as he was called, Art, "Hycy, thesportheen, has pulled him down a bit. He's not so rich now, they say, ashe was three or four years ago. "

"He's rich enough still, " observed his father; "but at any rate, uponmy sowl I'm sorry for him; he's the crame of an honest, kind-heartedneighbor; an' I believe in my conscience if there's a man alive thathasn't an ill-wisher, he is. "

"Is it known who robbed him?" asked the grandfather, "or does he suspectanybody?"

"It's not known, of course, grandfather, " replied Bryan, "or I supposethey would be in limbo before now; but there's quare talk about it. TheHogans is suspected, it seems. Philip was caught examinin' the hall-doorthe night before; an' that does look suspicious. "

"Ay, " said the old man, "an' very likely they're the men. I rememberthem this many a long day; it's forty years since Andy Hogan--he waslame--Andy Boccah they called him--was hanged for the murdher of yourgreat-granduncle, Billy Shevlin, of Frughmore, so that they don't likea bone in our bodies. That was the only murdher I remember of them, butmany a robbery was laid to their charge; an' every now and thenthere was always sure to be an odd one transported for thievin', an'house-breakin', and sich villainy. "

"I wouldn't be surprised, " said Mrs. M'Mahon, "but it was some o' themtuck our two brave geese the night before last. "

"Very likely, in throth, Bridget, " said her husband; "however, as theould proverb has it, 'honesty's the best policy. ' Let them see which ofus I'll be the best off at the end of the year. "

"There's an odd whisper here an' there about another robber, " continuedBryan; "but I don't believe a word about it. No, no;--he's wild, and notscrupulous in many things, but I always thought him generous, an' indeedrather careless about money. "

"You mane the sportheen?" said his brother Art. 

"The Hogans, " said the old man, recurring to the subject, as associatedwith them, "would rob anybody barrin' the Cavanaghs; but I won't listento it, Bryan, that Hycy Burke, or the son of any honest man that everhad an opportunity of hearin' the Word o' God, or livin' in a Christiancounthry, could ever think of robbin' his own father--his own father! Iwon't listen to that. "

"No, nor I, grandfather, " said Bryan, "putting everything else out ofthe question, its too unnatural an act. What makes you shake your head, Art?"

"I never liked a bone in his body, somehow, " replied Art. 

"Ay, but my goodness, Art, " said Dora, "sure nobody would think ofrobbin' their own father?"

"He has been doin' little else these three years, Dora, by allaccounts, " replied Art. 

"Ay, but his father, " continued the innocent girl; "to break into thehouse at night an' rob him like a robber!"

"Well, I say, it's reported that he has been robbin' him these threeyears in one shape or other, " continued Art; "but here's Shibby, let'shear what she'll say. What do you think, shibby?"

"About what, Art?"

"That Hycy Burke would rob his father!"

"Hut, tut! Art, what puts that into your head? Oh, no, Art--not atall--to rob his father, an' him has been so indulgent to him!"

"Indeed, I agree with you, Shibby, " said Bryan; "for although my opinionof Hycy is changed very much for the worse of late, still I can't andwon't give in to that. "

"An what has changed it for the worse?" asked his mother. "You an' hewor very thick together always--eh? What has changed it, Bryan?"

Bryan began to rub his hand down the sleeve of his coat, as if freeingit from dust, or perhaps admiring its fabric, but made no reply. 

"Eh, Bryan, " she continued, "what has changed your opinion of him?"

"Oh, nothing of much consequence, mother, " replied her son; "butsometimes a feather will toll one how the wind blows. "

As he spoke, it might have been observed that he looked around upon thefamily with an appearance of awakened consciousness that was very nearlyallied to shame. He recovered his composure, however, on perceivingthat none among them gave, either by look or manner, any indication ofunderstanding what he felt. This relieved him: but he soon found thatthe sense of relief experienced from it was not permitted to last long. Dora, his favorite sister, glided over to his side and gently takinghis hand in hers began to play with his fingers, whilst a roguishlaugh, that spoke a full consciousness of his secret, broke her pale butbeautiful features into that mingled expression of smiles and blusheswhich, in one of her years, gives a look of almost angelic purityand grace. After about a minute or two, during which she paused, andlaughed, and blushed, and commenced to whisper, and again stopped, she at last put her lips to his ear and whispered:--"Bryan, I know thereason you don't like Hycy. "

"You do?" he said, laughing, but yet evidently confused in histurn;--"well--an'--ha!--ha!--no, you fool, you don't. "

"May I never stir if I don't!"

"Well, an' what is it?"

"Why, bekaise he's coortin' Kathleen Cavanagh--now!"

"An' what do I care about that?" said her brother. 

"Oh, you thief!" she replied; "don't think you can play upon me. I knowyour saycret. "

"An' maybe, Dora, " he replied, "I have my saycrets. Do you know who wasinquirin' for you to-day?"

"No, " she returned, "nor I don't care either--sorra bit. "

"I met James Cavanagh there below"--he proceeded, still in a whisper, and he fixed his eyes upon her countenance as he spoke. The words, however, produced a most extraordinary effect. A deep blush crimsonedher whole neck and face, until the rush of blood seemed absolutely tobecome expressive of pain. Her eye, however, did not droop, but turnedupon him with a firm and peculiar sparkle. She had been stooping withher mouth near his ear, as the reader knows, but she now stood upquickly, shook back her hair, that had been hanging in natural andsilken curls about her blushing cheeks, and exclaimed: "No--no. Letme alone Bryan;" and on uttering these words she hurried into anotherroom. "

"Bryan, you've vexed Dora some way, " observed her sister. "What did yousay to her?"

"Nothing that vexed her, I'll go bail, " he replied, laughing; "however, as to what I said to her, Shibby, ax me no questions an' I'll tell youno lies. "

"Becaise I thought she looked as if she was angry, " continued Shibby, "an', you know, it must be a strong provocation that would anger her. "

"Ah, you're fishin' now, Shibby, " he replied, "and many thanks for yourgood intentions. It's a saycret, an' that's all you're going to knowabout it. But it's as much as 'll keep you on the look out this monthto come; and now you're punished for your curiosity--ha!--ha!--ha! Come, father, if we're to go to Sam Wallace's auction it's time we shouldthink of movin'. Art, go an' help Tom Droogan to bring out the horses. Rise your foot here, father, an' I'll put on your spur for you. Wemay as well spake to Mr. Fethertonge, the agent, about the leases. Ipromised we'd call on Gerald Cavanagh, to--an' he'll be waitin' forus--hem!"

His eye here glanced about, but Dora was not visible, and he accordinglyseemed to be more at his ease. "I think, father, " he added, "I musttrate you to a pair of spurs some of these days. This one, it's clear, has been a long time in the family. "

"Throth, an' on that account, " replied M'Mahon, "I'm not goin' to partwid it for the best pair that ever were made. No, no, Bryan; I likeeverything that I've known long. When my heart gets accustomed toanything or to anybody"--here he glanced affectionately at his wife--"Ican't bear to part wid them, or to think of partin' wid them. "

The horses were now ready, and in a brief space he and his son weredecently mounted, the latter smartly but not inappropriately dressed;and M'Mahon himself, with his right spur, in a sober but comfortablesuit, over which was a huge Jock, his inseparable companion in everyfair, market, and other public place, during the whole year. Indeed, itwould not be easy to find two better representatives of that respectableand independent class of Irish yeomanry of which our unfortunate countrystands so much in need, as was this man of high integrity and hisexcellent son. 

On arriving at Gerald Cavanagh's, which was on their way to the auction, it appeared that in order to have his company it was necessary theyshould wait for a little, as he was not yet ready. That worthy man theyfound in the act of shaving himself, seated very upright upon a chairin the kitchen, his eyes fixed with great steadiness upon the oppositewall, whilst lying between his legs upon the ground was a wooden dishhalf filled with water, and on a chair beside him a small looking-glass, with its backup, which, after feeling his face from time to time in anexperimental manner, he occasionally peeped into, and again laid down toresume the operation. 

In the mean time, Mrs. Cavanagh set forward a chair for Tom M'Mahon, anddesired her daughter Hannah to place one for Bryan, which she did. Thetwo girls were spinning, and it might have been observed that Kathleenappeared to apply herself to that becoming and feminine employment withdouble industry after the appearance of the M'Mahons. Kate Hogan wassitting in the chimney corner, smoking a pipe, and as she took it outof her mouth to whiff away the smoke from time to time, she turned herblack piercing eyes alternately from Bryan M'Mahon to Kathleen with apeculiar keenness of scrutiny. 

"An' how are you all up at Carriglass?" asked Mrs. Cavanagh. 

"Indeed we can't complain, thank God, as the times goes, " repliedM'Mahon. 

"An' the ould grandfather?--musha, but I was glad to see him look sowell on Sunday last!"

"Troth he's as stout as e'er a one of us. "

"The Lord continue it to him! I suppose you hard o' this robbery thatwas done at honest Jemmy Burke's?"

"I did, indeed, an' I was sorry to hear it. "

"A hundre' an' fifty pounds is a terrible loss to anybody in suchtimes. "

"A hundre' an' fifty!" exclaimed M'Mahon--"hut, tut!--no; I thought itwas only seventy or eighty. He did not lose so much, did he?"

"So I'm tould. "

"It was two--um--it was two--urn--urn--it was--um--um--it was twohundre' itself, " observed Cavanagh, after he had finished a portion ofthe operation, and given himself an opportunity of speaking--"it wartwo hundre' itself, I'm tould, an' that's too much, by a hundre' andninety-nine pounds nineteen shillings an' eleven pence three fardens, tobe robbed of. "

"Troth it is, Gerald, " replied M'Mahon; "but any way there's nothin'but thievin' and robbin' goin'. You didn't hear that we came in for avisit?"

"You!" exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh--"is it robbed? My goodness, no!"

"Why, " he proceeded, "we'll be able to get over it afore we die, I hope. On ere last night we had two of our fattest geese stolen. "

"Two!" exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh--"an' at this saison of the! year, too. Well, that same's a loss. "

"Honest woman, " said M'Mahon, addressing Kate Hogan, "maybe you'd giveme a draw o' the pipe?"

"Maybe so, " she replied; "an' why wouldn't I? Shough! that is here!"

"Long life to you, Katy. Well, " proceeded the worthy man, "if it was apoor person that wanted them an' that took them from hardship, why Godforgive them as heartily as I do: but if they wor stole by a thief, forthievin's sake, I hope I'll always be able to afford the loss of a pairbetther than the thief will to do without them; although God mend his orher heart, whichever it was, in the mane time. "

During this chat Bryan and Hanna Cavanagh were engaged in thatgood-humored badinage that is common to persons of their age andposition. 

"I didn't see you at Mass last Sunday, Bryan?" said she, laughing; "an'that's the way you attend to your devotions. Upon my word you promisewell!"

"I seen you, then, " replied Bryan, "so it seems if I haven't betthereyes I have betther eyesight. "

"Indeed I suppose, " she replied, "you see everything but what you go tosee. "

"Don't be too sure of that, " he replied, with an involuntary glance atKathleen, who seemed to enjoy her sister's liveliness, as was evidentfrom the sweet and complacent smile which beamed upon her features. 

"Indeed I suppose you're right, " she replied; "I suppose you go to sayeverything but your prayers. "

"An' is it in conversation with Jemmy Kelly, " asked Bryan, jocularly, alluding to her supposed admirer, "that you perform your own devotions, Miss Hanna?"

"Hanna, achora, " said the father, "I think you're playin' the secondfiddle there--ha! ha! ha!"

The laugh was now general against Hanna, who laughed as loudly, however, as any of them. 

"Throth, Kathleen, " she exclaimed, "you're not worth knot's o' strawsor you'd help me against this fellow here; have you nothing, " sheproceeded, addressing Bryan, and nodding towards her sister, "to sayto her? Is everything to fall on my poor shoulders? Come, now, " withanother nod in the same direction, "she desarves it for not assistin'me. Who does she say her devotions with?"

"Hem--a--is it Kathleen you mane?" he inquired, with rather anembarrassed look. 

"Not at all, " she replied ironically, "but my mother there--ha! ha! ha!Come, now, we're waitin' for you. "

"Come, now?" he repeated, purposely misunderstanding her--"oh, begad, that's a fair challenge;" and he accordingly rose to approach her withthe felonious intent of getting a kiss; but Hanna started from her wheeland ran out of the house to avoid him. 

"Throth, you're a madcap, Hanna, " exclaimed her mother, placidly--"anantick crather, dear knows--her heart's in her mouth every minute ofthe day; an' if she gets through the world wid it always as light, poorgirl, it'll be well for her. "

"Kathleen, will you get me a towel or praskeen of some sort to wipe myface wid, " said her father, looking about for the article he wanted. 

"I left one, " she replied, "on the back of your chair--an' there it is, sure. "

"Ay, achora, it's you that laves nothing undone that ought to be done;an' so it is here, sure enough. "

"Why, then, Gerald, " asked Tom M'Mahon, "in the name o' wonder whatmakes you stick to the meal instead o' the soap when you're washin'yourself?"

"Throth, an' I ever will, Tom, an' for a good raison--becaise it's bestfor the complexion. "

The unconscious simplicity with which Cavanagh uttered this occasionedloud laughter, from which Kathleen herself was unable to refrain. 

"By the piper, Gerald, " said M'Mahon, "that's the best thing I h'ardthis month o' Sundays. Why, it would be enough for one o' your daughtersto talk about complexion. Maybe you paint too--ha! ha! ha!"

Hanna now put in her head, and asked "what is the fun?" but immediatelyadded, "Kathleen, here's a message for you. "

"For me!" said Kathleen; "what is it?"

"Here's Peety Dhu's daughter, an' she says she has something to say toyou. "

"An' so Rosha Burke, " said Mrs. Cavanagh, "has taken her to live widthem; I hope it'll turn out well for the poor thing. "

"Will you come out, Kathleen, " said Hanna, again peeping in; "shemustn't tell it to anyone but yourself. "

"If she doesn't she may keep it, then, " replied Kathleen. "Tell her Ihave no secrets, " she added, "nor I won't have any of her keeping. "

"You must go in, " said Hanna, turning aside and addressing thegirl--"you must go in an' spake to her in the house. "

"She can tell us all about the robbery, anyway, " observed Mr. Cavanagh. "Come in, a-colleen--what are you afeard of?"

"I have a word to say to her, " said the girl--"a message to deliver; butit must be to nobody but herself. Whisper, " she proceeded, approachingKathleen, and about to address her. 

Kathleen immediately rose, and, looking on the messenger, said, "Who isit from, Nanny?"

"I mustn't let _them_ know, " replied the girl, looking at the rest. 

"Whatever it is, Or whoever it's from, you must spake it out then, Nanny, " continued Kathleen. 

"It's from Hycy Burke, then, " replied the girl; "he wants to know if youhave any answer for him?"

"Tell Hycy Burke, " replied Kathleen, "that I have no answer for him; an'that I'll thank him to send me no more messages. "

"Hut tut! you foolish girl, " exclaimed her mother, rising up andapproaching her daughter; "are you mad, Kathleen?"

"What's come over you, " said the father, equally alarmed; "are youbeside yourself, sure enough, to send Hycy Burke sich a message asthat? Sit down, ma colleen, sit down, an' never mind her--don't think ofbringin' him back sich a message. Why, then, " he added, "in the name o'mercy, Kathleen, what has come over you, to trate a respectable youngman like. Hycy Burke in that style?"

"Simply, father, because I don't wish to receive any messages at allfrom him. "

"But your mother an' I is of a different opinion, Kathleen. We wish youto resave messages from him; an' you know you're bound both by the lawsof God an' man to obey us an' be guided by us. "

"I know I am, father, " she replied; "an' I hope I haven't been anundutiful child to either of you for so far. "

"That's true, Kathleen--God sees it's truth itself. "

"What message do you expect to bring back, Nanny?" said the mother, addressing the girl. 

"An answer, " replied the girl, seeing that everything must be and wasabove board--"an answer to the letther he sent her. "

"Did he send you a letther?" asked her father, seriously; "an' you neverlet us know a word about it?--did he send you a letther?"

Kathleen paused a moment and seemed to consult Hanna's looks, who hadnow joined them. At length she replied, slowly, and as if in doubtwhether she ought to speak in the affirmative or not--"no, he sent me noletter. "

"Well now, take care, Kathleen, " said her mother; "I seen a letther inyour hands this very mornin'. "

Kathleen blushed deeply; but as if anxious to give the conversationanother turn, and so to relieve herself, she replied, "I can't preventyou, mother, or my father either, from sending back whatever answer youwish; but this I say that, except the one I gave already, Hycy Burkewill never receive any message or any answer to a message from me; an'now for the present let us drop it. "

"Very well, " said her mother; "in the mane time, my good girsha, sitdown. Is it thrue that Jemmy Burke's house was robbed a couple o' nightsago?"

"True enough, " said the girl. 

"And how much did he lose?" asked M'Mahon; "for there's disputes aboutit--some say more and some say less. "

"Between seventy and eighty pounds, " replied Nanny; "the masther isn'tsure to a pound or so; but he knows it was near eighty, any way. "

"That's just like him, " said Cavanagh; "his careless way of managin'. Many a time I wondher at him;--he slobbers everything about that you'dthink he'd beggar himself, an' yet the luck and prosperity flows to him. I declare to my goodness I think the very dirt under his feet turns tomoney. Well, girsha, an' have they any suspicion of the robbers?"

"Why, " said the girl, "they talk about"--she paused, and it wasquite evident from her manner that she felt not only embarrassed, butdistressed by the question. Indeed this was no matter of surprise; forever since the subject was alluded to, Kate Hogan's black piercing eyeshad not once been removed from hers, nor did the girl utter a singleword in reply to the questions asked of her without first, as it were, consulting Kate's looks. 

A moment's reflection made Cavanagh feel that the question must be apainful one to the girl, not only on her own account, but on that ofKate herself; for even then it was pretty well known that Burke's familyentertained the strongest suspicion that the burglary had been committedby these notorious vagabonds. 

"Well, ahagur, " said Cavanagh, "no matter now--it's all over unless theycatch the robbers. Come now, " he added, addressing M'Mahon and his son, "if you're for the road I'm ready. "

"Is it true, Mrs. Burke, " asked Bryan, "that you're goin' to have a Kempin your barn some o' these days?"

"True enough, indeed, " replied the good woman, "an' that's true, too, tell the girls, Bryan, and that they must come. "

"Not I, " said the other, laughing; "if the girls here--wishes them tocome, let them go up and ask them. "

"So we will, then, " replied Hanna, "an' little thanks to you for yourcivility. "

"I wish I knew the evenin', " said Bryan, "that I might be atCarriglass. "

"When will we go, Kathleen, " asked her sister, turning slyly to her. 

"Why, you're sich a light-brained cracked creature, " replied Kathleen, "that I can't tell whether you're joking or not. "

"The sorra joke I'm jokin', " she replied, striving suddenly to formher features into a serious expression. "Well, then, I have it, " sheproceeded. "Some Thursday, Bryan, in the middle o' next week--now youknow I'm not jokin', Kathleen. "

"Will you come, Kathleen?" inquired Bryan. 

"Why, if Hanna goes, I suppose I must, " she replied, but without lookingup. 

"Well then I'll have a sharp look-out on Thursday. "

"Come now, " said Gerald, "let us move. Give the girsha something to ateamong you, for the credit of the house, before she goes back, " he added. "Paddy Toole, girth that horse tighter, I tell you; I never can get youto girth him as he ought to be girthed. "

On bidding the women good-bye, Bryan looked towards Kathleen for amoment, and her eye in return glanced on him as he was about to go. Butthat simple glance, how significant was its import, and how clearly didit convey the whole history of as pure a heart as ever beat within afemale bosom!

CHAPTEE VI. --Nanny Peety looks mysterious

--Hycy proves himself a good Judge of Horse-Flesh. 

The day was all light, and life, and animation. The crops were goingdown fast in every direction, and the fields were alive and cheerfulwith the voice of mirth and labor. As they got into the vicinity ofWallace's house they overtook or were over-taken by several of theirneighbors, among whom was seen our old friend, Jemmy, or as I hisacquaintances generally called him, honest Jemmy Burke, mounted upon abrood mare with a foal at her heels, all his other horses having beenengaged in the labor of the season. 

After having sympathized with him upon the loss he had sustained, they soon allowed the subject to drop; for it was quite clear from theexpression of care, if not of sorrow, that was legible in his face, thatthe very mention of it only caused him to feel additional anxiety. 

At length they reached Wallace's house, where they found a tolerablylarge crowd of people waiting for the auction, which was not to commenceuntil the hour of one o'clock. 

Sam Wallace was a respectable Protestant farmer, who finding, as hesaid, that there was no proper encouragement given to men who wereanxious and disposed to improve their property, had deemed it a wiserstep to dispose of his stock and furniture than to remain as he was--notmerely with no certain prospect of being able to maintain even hispresent position, but with the chances against him of becoming every daya poorer and more embarrassed man. His brother, who like himself, afterhaving been on the decline for a considerable period, had emigrated toAmerica, where he was prospering, now urged him to follow his exampleand leave a country in which he said, in language that has become aproverb, "everything was going to the bad. " Feeling that his brother'swords were unfortunately too true, Wallace, at all events, came to thedetermination of following his example. 

The scene at which our friends arrived was indeed a striking andimpressive one. The majority of the crowd consisted of those whobelonged either to the Protestant or Presbyterian forms of worship; andit might be with truth asserted, that nothing could surpass the clearunquestionable character of independent intelligence which prevailedamong them. Along with this, however, there was an obvious spiritof dissatisfaction, partial, it is true, as to numbers, but yetsufficiently marked as to satisfy an observer that such a people, ifunited upon any particular subject or occasion, were not for a moment tobe trifled with or cajoled. Their feelings upon the day in question werestirred into more than usual warmth. A friend, a neighbor, a man ofan old and respectable family, frugal, industrious, and loyal, asthey said, both to king and country, was now forced from want of dueencouragement from his landlord, to disturb all his old associationsof friendship and kindred, and at rather an advanced state of lifeto encounter the perils of a long voyage, and subject himself and hisfamily to the changes and chances which he must encounter in a newworld, and in a different state of society. Indeed, the feeling whichprompted the expression of these sentiments might be easily gatheredfrom the character that pervaded the crowd. Not to such an extent, however, with respect to Wallace himself or any portion of his family, There might be observed upon him and them a quiet but resolute spirit, firm, collected, and cheerful; but still, while there were visible notraces of dejection or grief, it was easy to perceive that under thisdecent composure there existed a calm consciousness of strong sternfeeling, whose dignity, if not so touching, was quite as impressive asthe exhibition of louder and more clamorous grief. 

"Bryan, " said M'Mahon to his son, as the auction was proceeding, "I'llslip up to the agent's, and do you see if them sheep goes for a fairvalue--if they do, give a bid or two any how. I'm speakin' of that lotwe wor lookin' at, next the wall there. "

"I'll pay attention to it, " said Bryan; "I know you'll find the agent athome now, for I seen him goin' in a while ago; so hurry up, an' ax himif he can say how soon we may expect the leases. "

"Never fear, I will. "

On entering Fethertonge's Hall, M'Mahon was treated with very markedrespect by the servant, who told him to walk into the parlor, and hewould let his master know. 

"He entertains a high opinion of you, Mister M'Mahon, " said he; "and Iheard him speak strongly about you the other day to some gentlemen thatdined with us--friends of the landlord's. Walk into the parlor. "

In a few minutes M'Mahon was shown into Fethertonge's office, the wallsof which were, to a considerable height, lined with tin boxes, labelledwith the names of those whose title-deeds and other valuable papers theycontained. 

Fethertonge was a tall, pale, placid looking man, with rather abenevolent cast of countenance, and eyes that were mild, but verysmall in proportion to the other features of his face. His voice wasexceedingly low, and still more musical and sweet than low; in factit was such a voice as, one would imagine, ought to have seldom beenotherwise employed than in breathing hope and, consolation to despairingsinners on their bed of death. Yet he had nothing of either the parsonor the preacher in his appearance. So far from that he was seldom knownto wear a black coat, unless when dressed for dinner, and not veryfrequently even then, for he mostly wore blue. 

"M'Mahon, " said he, "take a seat. I am glad to see you. How are yourfamily?"

"Both I an' they is well, I'm thankful to you, sir, " replied the farmer. 

"I hope you got safe home from the metropolis. How did you travel?"

"Troth, I walked it, sir, every inch of the way, an' a long stretch itis. I got safe, sir, an' many thanks to you. "

"That was a sudden call poor Mr. Chevydale got, but not more so thanmight, at his time of life, have been expected; at all events I hope hewas prepared for it, and indeed I have reason to think he was. "

"I trust in God he was, sir, " replied M'Mahon; "so far as I and mineis consarned, we have raison to wish it; he didn't forget us, Mr. Fethertonge. "

"No, " said the other, after some pause, "he did not indeed forget you, M'Mahon. "

"I tuck the liberty of callin' down, sir, " proceeded M'Mahon, "aboutthe leases he spoke of, an' to know how soon we may expect to have themfilled. "

"That is for your son Bryan and yourself. How is Bryan proceeding withAhadarra, by the way? I spoke to him some time ago about his system ofcropping that farm, and some other matters of the kind; I must ride upone of these days to see how he is doing. As to the leases, there is nodifficulty in the way, M'Mahon, except to get our young landlord to signthem. That we will easily do, of course; in the meantime, do you goon, improve your land, and strive to do something for your children, M'Mahon; for, in this world, he that won't assist himself will findvery few that will. The leases are in Dublin; if you wish, I'll send forthem, and have them ready for the landlord's signature whenever he comesdown here; or I'll leave them in town, where I shall be more likely tosee him. "

"Very well, sir, " replied M'Mahon, "I lave it all in your own hands, forI know that if you won't be my friend, you won't be my enemy. "

"Well--certainly--I hope not. Will you take anything? Here, James, bringin some brandy. "

M'Mahon's protest against the brandy was anything but invincible. Fethertonge's manner was so kind, so familiar, and his interest in thesuccess of himself and his family so unaffectedly warm and sincere, that, after drinking his health, he took his leave with a light and. Happy heart. 

Their journey home was a little more lively than the depression of JemmyBurke's mind had allowed it to be on their way to the auction. Yeteach had his own peculiar feelings, independently of those which wereelicited by the conversation. Jemmy Burke, who had tasted some ofWallace's liquor, as indeed, with the exception of Bryan, they all did, was consequently in a better and more loquacious humor than he had beenduring the day. On this occasion his usual good fortune attended him forit was the opinion of every one there, that he had got the best bargaindisposed of during the day--a lot of twenty-five wethers in primecondition. Gerald Cavanagh, who had also tasted the poteen, stuck asclosely as possible to his skirts, moved thereto by a principle ofadhesion, with which our readers are already acquainted; and Bryan, who saw and understood his motives, felt by no means comfortable atwitnessing such strong symptoms of excessive attachment. Old M'Mahondid not speak much, for, in truth, he could not overcome the depressingeffects of the scene he had witnessed, nor of the words uttered byWallace, as they bade each other farewell. 

Burke, however, and his companion, Cavanagh, looked like men betweenwhom a warm friendship was about to grow up. Whenever they came to apublic-house or a shebeen, they either dismounted and had a cordial droptogether, or took it in the saddle after touching each other's glassesin token of love and amity. It is true some slight interruptionoccurred, that disturbed the growing confidence and familiarity of theirdialogue, which interruption consisted in the endless whinnying of themare whenever her foal delayed a moment behind her, or in the sudden andabrupt manner in which she wheeled about with a strong disposition toreturn and look for it. 

On the discovery of Burke's robbery an investigation was set on foot, but with no prospect of success, and without in any way involving theHogans, who were strongly suspected. It was clearly proved that Philipand one of his brothers slept in their usual residence--Cavanagh'scorn-kiln--on that night, but it was admitted that Batt Hogan and hiswife Kate were both abroad the greater portion of it. On them suspicionmight, indeed, very naturally have rested, were it not for the evidenceof Hycy himself, who at once admitted that he could exonerate them fromany suspicion, as he knew both how and where they had passed the nightin question. So far, therefore, the Hogans, dishonest as they wereunquestionably reputed to be, now stood perfectly exonerated from allsuspicion. 

The lapse of a very few days generally cools down the ferment occasionedby matters of this kind, especially when public curiosity is found to beat fault in developing the whole train of circumstances connected withthem. All the in-door servants, it is true, were rigorously examined, yet it somehow happened that Hycy could not divest himself of asuspicion that Nanny Peety was in some way privy to the disappearanceof the money. In about three or four days he happened to see her thrustsomething into her father's bag, which he carried as a mendicant, and hecould not avoid remarking that there was in her whole manner, which wasfurtive and hurried, an obvious consciousness of something that was notright. He resolved, however, to follow up the impression which hefelt, and accordingly in a few minutes after her father had taken hisdeparture, he brought her aside, and without giving her a moment toconcoct a reply, he asked what it was that he saw her thrusting in sucha hurried manner into his bag. She reddened like scarlet, and, afterpausing a moment, replied, "Nothing, sir, but an ould pair of shoes. "

"Was that all?" he asked. 

"That was all, sir, " she replied. 

The blush and hesitation, however, with which she answered him werefar from satisfactory; and without more ado he walked briskly down theavenue, and overtook her father near the gate at its entrance. 

"Peety, " said he, "what was that your daughter Nanny put into your bag awhile ago? I wish to know?"

"Deed an its scarcely worth your while, Master Hycy, " replied themendicant; "but since you'd like to know, it was a pair of ould brogues, and here they are, " he added, "if you wish to see them. "

He laid down the bag as he spoke, and was proceeding to pull them out, when Hycy, who felt angry with himself as well as ashamed at beingdetected in such a beggarly and unbecoming act of espionage, turnedinstantly back, after having vented several hearty curses upon theunfortunate mendicant and his bags. 

As he approached the hall-door, however, he met Nanny crossing into thekitchen-yard, and from the timid and hesitating glance she cast athim, some vague suspicion again occurred, and he resolved to enter intofurther conversation with her. It struck him that she had been watchinghis interview with her father, and could not avoid yielding to theimpression which had returned so strongly upon him. 

"I saw your father, Nanny, " he said, in as significant and dry a tone aspossible. 

"Did you, sir?" said she; and he remarked that while uttering the words, she again colored deeply and did not raise her eyes to his face. 

"Yes, " he replied; "but he did not bear out what you said--he had nopair of shoes in his bag. "

"Did you see what he had in it, Master Hycy?"

"Why, " said he, "a--hem--a--a--I didn't look--but I'll tell you what, Nanny, I think you look as if you were in possession of some secret. Isay so, and don't imagine you can for a moment impose upon me. I knowwhat your father had in his bag. "

"Well then, if you do, sir, " she replied, "you know the saycrit. "

"So there is a secret, then?"

"So you say, Masther Hycy. "

"Nanny, " he proceeded, "it occurs to me now that you never underwent aformal examination about this robbery that took place in our house. "

"That wasn't my fault, " she replied; "I mostly happened to be out. "

"Well, but do you know anything about it?"

"Not a thing--no more than yourself, Mr. Hycy. "

Her interrogator turned upon her a hard scrutinizing glance, in whichit was easy to see that she read a spirit of strong and dissatisfiedsuspicion. She was evidently conscious of this; for as Hycy stood gazingupon her, she reddened, and betrayed unequivocal symptons of confusion. 

"Because, Nanny, " he proceeded, "if you knew anything about it, anddidn't mention it at once to the family, you would be considered as oneof the robbers. "

"An' wouldn't I be nearly as bad if I didn't?" she replied; "surely thefirst thing I'd do would be to tell. "

"It's very strange, " observed Hycy, "that such a robbery could becommitted in a house where there are so many servants, without any cluewhatsoever to a discovery. "

"Well, I don't agree with you there, Mr. Hycy--if what your father andmother an' all o' them say is true--that it wasn't often the hall-doorwas bolted at night; and that they can't say whether it was fastened onthat night or not. Sure if it wasn't, there was nothing to prevent anyone from comin' in. "

"Very true, Nanny, " he replied, "very true; and we have paid severelyfor our negligence. "

This closed the conversation, but Hycy felt that, proceed from whateversource it might, it was impossible to dismiss certain vague suspicionsas connected with the mendicant's daughter. He determined, however, to watch her narrowly; and somehow he could not divest himself of theimpression that she saw through his design. This incident occurred a fewdays after the robbery. 

Jemmy Burke, though in many respects a man of easy and indolentcharacter, was nevertheless a person who, as is familiarly! said, "always keep an eye to the main chance. " He was by no means over-tidyeither in his dress or farming; but it mattered little in what light youcontemplated him, you were always certain to find him a man not affectedby trifles, nor rigidly systematic in anything; but at the same time youcould not help observing that he was a man of strong points, whose lifewas marked by a course of high prosperity, that seemed to flow inupon him, as it were, by some peculiar run of good fortune. This luck, however, was little less than the natural result of shrewd mother-wit, happily applied to the: ordinary transactions of life, and assuming theappearance of good fortune rather than of sound judgment, in consequenceof the simplicity of character under which it acted. Ever since thenight of the robbery, he had devoted himself more to the pipe than hehad ever been known to do before; he spoke little, too; but what he didsay was: ironical, though not by any means without a tinge of quiet butcaustic humor. 

Hycy, on entering the parlor, found him! seated in an arm-chair, smokingas usual, whilst his mother, who soon came down stairs, appeared dressedin more than her usual finery. 

"What keeps Patsy Dolan wid the car?" she inquired. "Hycy, do you seeany appearance of him?"

"No, ma'am, " replied the son; "I didn't know you wanted him. "

Jemmy looked at her with a good deal of surprise, and, after whiffingaway the smoke, asked--"And well, Rosha--begs pardon--Mrs. Burke--is ita fair question to ax where you are bound for?"

"Fair enough, Mr. Burke, " she replied; "but I'm not goin' to answer it. "

"You're bound for a journey, ma'am, I think?"

"I'm bound for a journey, sir. "

"Is it a long journey, Mrs. Burke?"

"No, indeed; it's a short journey, Mister Burke. "

"Ah!" replied her husband, uttering a very significant groan; "I'mafraid it is. "

"Why do you groan, Mr. Burke?"

"Oh it doesn't signify, " he replied, dryly; "it's no novelty, I believe, to hear a man--a married man--groan in this world; only if you wor fora long journey, I'd be glad to give you every assistance in my power. "

"You hear that, Hycy; there's affection?" she exclaimed--"wishin' me togo my long journey!"

"Would you marry again, Mr. Burke?" asked the worthy son. 

"I think not, " replied Jemmy. "There's gintlemen enough o' the name--I'mafraid one too many. "

"Well, " exclaimed his wife, assuming something as near to her conceptionof the look of a martyr as possible, "I'm sufferin' at all events; butI know my crown's before me. "

"Sich as it is, " replied her husband, "I dare say it is. "

"I'll not be back for a few hours, Hycy; an'--but here's the car. Comefardher up, Patsy. "

Hycy politely handed his mother out, and assisted her on the car. "Ofcourse, he'll discover it all, " said he, laughing. 

"I know he will, " she replied; "but when it's over, it's over, andthat's all. "

Jemmy now met his son at the hall-door, and asked him if he knew wherehis mother had gone. 

"I really cannot undertake to say, " replied the other. "Mrs. Burke, father, is a competent judge of her own notions; but I presume to thinkthat she may take a drive upon her own car, without being so severely, if not ungenerously catechised about it. I presume to think so, sir; butI daresay I am wrong, and that even that is a crime on my part. "

His father made no reply, but proceeded at an easy and thoughtful paceto join his men in the field where they were at labor. 

Hycy, after his mother's return that evening, seemed rather in lowspirits, if one could form any correct estimate of his character byappearances. He was very silent, and somewhat less given to those brokensnatches of melody than was his wont; and yet a close observer mighthave read in his deportment, and especially in the peculiar expressionof his eye, that which seemed to indicate anything rather thandepression or gloom. His silence, to such an observer, might haveappeared rather the silence of satisfaction and triumph, than ofdisappointment or vexation. 

His father, indeed, saw little of him that night, in consequence of thehonest man having preferred the hob of his wealthy and spacious kitchento the society of his wife and son in the parlor. The next morning, however, they met at breakfast, as usual, when Hycy, after some ironicalcompliments to his father's good taste, asked him, "if he would do himthe favor to step towards the stable and see his purchase. "

"You don't mane Crazy Jane?" said the other, coolly. 

"I do, " replied Hycy; "and as I set a high value on your opinion, perhaps you would be kind enough to say what you think of her. "

Now, Hycy never for a moment dreamt that his father would have taken himat his word, and we need hardly say that he was a good deal disconcertedat the cool manner in which the other expressed his readiness to do so. 

"Well, Mr. Burke, " he proceeded, when they had reached the stable, "there she is. Pray what do you think of her?"

The old man looked at her from various points, passed his hand downher limbs, clapped her on the back, felt her in different places, thenlooked at her again. "She's a beauty, " said he, "a born beauty likeBilly Neelin's foal; what's this you say you paid for her?"

"Thirty-five pounds. "

"Tare-an-ounty, Hycy, she's dog chape--thirty-five!--why she's value fordouble the sum. "

"Nearly, " replied Hycy, quite elevated and; getting into good humor; "isshe not really now, father, a precious bit of flesh?"

"Ah! you may swear that, Hycy; I tell you you won't act the honest man, if you don't give him fifteen or twenty pounds over an' above what youpaid him. Tom Burton I see's too simple for you. Go and do what I bidyou; don't defraud the poor man; you have got a treasure, I tell you--abeauty bright--an extraordinary baste--a wonderful animal--oh, dear me!what a great purchase! Good-bye, Hycy. Bless my sowl! what a judge ofhorseflesh you are!"

Having uttered these words in a tone of grave and caustic irony, he lefthis worthy son in a state of chagrin almost bordering on resentment, atthe strong contempt for Crazy-Jane, implied by the excessive eulogiumhe had passed upon her. This feeling, however, was on reflectionconsiderably checked by his satisfaction on finding that the matter wastaken by his father so coolly. He had calculated on receiving a verystormy lecture from him the moment he should become aware of his havingthe animal in his possession; and he now felt rather relieved thathe should have escaped so easily. Be this as it may, Hycy was now inexcellent spirits. Not only had Crazy Jane been secured, but there werestrong symptoms of his being in cash. In a few days after the incidentof the stable, he contrived to see Philip Hogan, with whom he appointeda final meeting in Cavanagh's kiln on the night of the Kemp; at whichmeeting, Teddy Phats and the other two Hogans were also to be present, in order to determine upon the steps which he ultimately proposed totake, with a view to work out his purposes, whatever those purposes mayhave been. 

CHAPTER VII. --The Spinster's Kemp. 

A kemp, or camp, is a contest of industrial skill, or a competitionfor priority in a display of rustic labor. Among men it is principallyresorted to in planting potatoes or reaping of corn, and generally onlyon the day which closes the labor at each for the season; but in thesense in which it is most usually practised and contested, it means atrial of female skill at the spinning of linen yarn. It is, indeed, a very cheerful assemblage of the fair sex; and, although strong anddesperate rivalry is the order of the day, yet it is conducted ina spirit so light-hearted and amicable that we scarcely know a morelaudable or delightful recreation in country life. Its object is alwaysgood, and its associations praiseworthy, inasmuch as they promoteindustry, a spirit of becoming emulation, and principles of good willand kindness to our neighbor. 

When a kemp is about to be held, the matter soon becomes generally knownin the neighborhood. Sometimes the young women are asked, but inmost instances, so eager are they to attend it that invitations areunnecessary. In the whiter months, and in mountain districts, it isoften as picturesque as it is pleasant. The young women usually beginto assemble about four o'clock in the morning; and, as they always go ingroups, accompanied besides by their sweethearts or some male relatives, each of the latter bearing a large torch of well-dried bogfir, theirvoices, and songs, and loud laughter break upon the stillness ofnight with a holiday feeling, made ten times more delightful by thesurrounding darkness and the hour. When they have not the torches thespinning-wheels are carried by the males, amidst an agreeable din offun, banter, repartee, and jest, such as scarcely any other rusticamusement with which we are acquainted ever occasions. On arriving atthe house where the kemp is to be held, they are placed in the barn orsome clean outhouse; but indeed the numbers are usually such as to crowdevery available place that can be procured for their accommodation. Fromthe moment they arrive the lively din is incessant. Nothing is heard butlaughter, conversation, songs, and anecdotes, all rising in a loud key, among the louder humming of the spinning-wheels and the stridulous noiseof the reeds, as they incessantly crack the cuts in the hands of thereelers, who are perpetually turning them from morning to night, inorder to ascertain the quantity which every competitor has spun; andshe, of course, who has spun most wins the kemp, and is the queen forthe night. 

A kemp invariably closes with a dance--and a dance too upon an unusuallyextensive scale. Indeed, during the whole day the fair competitors areregaled from time to time with the enlivening strains of the fiddle orbagpipes, and very often with the united melody of both together. 

On that morning the dwelling-house and mostly all the out-offices ofGerald Cavanagh bore, in stir and bustle, a stronger resemblance to theactivity of so many bee-hives about to swarm than to anything elseto which we can think of comparing them. Mirth in all its shapes, oflaughter, glee, and song, rang out in every direction. The boomingof wheels and the creaking of reels, the loud banter, the peals oflaughter, the sweet Irish songs that filled up the pauses of the loudermirth, and the strains of the fiddle that ever and anon added to theenlivening spirit of the scene, all constituted such a full and generalchorus of hilarity as could seldom be witnessed. 

There were many girls present who took no part in the competition, butwho, as friends and acquaintances of Kathleen and Hanna, came to enjoythe festive spirit of the day. Hanna herself, however, who had earnedsome celebrity as a spinster, started for the honor of winning, as didDora M'Mahon, whose small and beautiful fingers seemed admirably adaptedfor this graceful and peculiarly feminine process of Minerva. Towardsevening the neighbors assembled in considerable numbers, each interestedin the success of some peculiar favorite, whose former feats had inducedher friends to entertain on her behalf strong, if not certain, hopes ofvictory. Kathleen, from a principle of generosity, patronized her youngfriend, Dora M'Mahon; and Shibby M'Mahon, on the other hand, tookHanna Cavanagh under her protection. As the evening advanced, and thespectators and friends of the parties began to call, in order to bepresent at the moment of victory, it would be difficult to witness anyassemblage of young women placed under circumstances of such strikinginterest. The mirth and song and general murmur diminished by degrees, until they altogether ceased, and. Nothing was to be heard but theperpetual cracking of the reels, the hum of the rapid wheels, and thevoices of the reelers, as they proclaimed the state of this enliveningpool of industry. As for the fair competitors themselves, it might havebeen observed that even those among them who had no, or at least butslight pretensions to beauty, became actually interesting from theexcitement which prevailed. Their eyes lit by the active spirit ofrivalry within them, sparkled with peculiar brilliancy, their cheeksbecame flushed or got pale as they felt themselves elevated or depressedby the prospect or loss of victory. Nor were there wanting on thisoccasion some vivid glances that were burthened, as they passed aslant, their fair faces, with pithier feelings than those that originated froma simple desire of victory. If truth must be told, baleful flashes, unmeasured both in number and expression, were exchanged in a spiritof true defiance between the interested and contending parties, as theclose of the contest approached. At length, by the proclamation of thereelers, the great body of the competitors were thrown out, and theyconsequently gave up the contest. It was now six o'clock, and thefirst sound of seven o'clock by Captain Millar's bell was to close theproceedings, and enable the reelers to proclaim the victor. Only fournames now remained to battle it out to the last; to wit, a countryfarmer's daughter, named Betty Aikins, Dora M'Mahon, Hanna Cavanagh, anda servant-girl belonging to another neighbor, named Peggy Bailly. Thisruck, as they say on the turf, was pretty well up together, but allthe rest nowhere. And now, to continue the metaphor, as is the caseat Goodwood or the Curragh, the whole interest was centered upon thesefour. At the commencement of the last hour the state of the case wasproclaimed as follows: Betty Aikins, three dozen and eight cuts; DoraM'Mahon, three dozen and seven cuts; Hanna Cavanagh, three dozen andfive cuts; and Peggy Bailly, three dozen and four cuts. Every individualhad now her own party anxious for her success, and amidst this hour ofinterest how many hearts beat with all hopes and fears that are incidenteven to the most circumscribed contest of human life. Opposite Dorastood the youth whom we have already noticed, James Cavanagh, whosesalvation seemed but a very trifling thing when compared or put intoopposition with her success. Be this as it may, the moment was a mostexciting one even to those who felt no other interest than that whichnaturally arises from human competition. And it was unquestionablya beautiful thing to witness this particular contest between, fouryouthful and industrious young women. Dora's otherwise pale and placidfeatures were now mantling, and her beautiful dark eyes flashing, under the proud and ardent spirit of ambition, for such in fact was theprinciple which now urged and animated the contest. When nearly half anhour had passed, Kathleen came behind her, and stooping down, whispered, "Dora, don't turn your wheel so quickly: you move the, foot-board toofast--don't twist the thread too much, and you'll let down more. "

Dora smiled and looked up to her with a grateful and flashing eye. "Thank you, Kathleen, " she replied, nodding, "I'll take your advice. "The state of the contest was then proclaimed:--Betty Aikins--three dozenand ten cuts; Dora M'Mahon--three dozen and ten cuts; Hanna Cavanagh--three dozen, six cuts and a half; Peggy Bailly--three dozen, five anda half. 

On hearing this, Betty Aikin's cheek became scarlet, and as it isuseless to disguise the fact, several flashing glances that partookmore of a Penthesilean fire than the fearful spirit which usuallycharacterizes the industrious pursuits of Minerva, were shot at generousDora, who sustained her portion of the contest with singular spirit andtemper. 

"You may as well give it up, Dora M'Mahon, " exclaimed Betty; "therenever was one of your blood could open against an Aikins--the stuff isnot in you to beat me. "

"A very little time will soon tell that, " replied Dora; "but indeed, Betty, if I am doin' my best to win the kemp, I hope it's not in a bador unfriendly spirit, but in one of fair play and good humor. "

The contest now went on for about fifteen minutes, with surpassinginterest and animation, at the expiration of which period, the seveno'clock bell already alluded to, rang the hour for closing their laborsand determining the victory. Thus stood their relative position--DoraM'Mahon, four hanks and three cuts; Betty Aikins, four hanks; HannaCavanagh, three hanks and nine cuts; Peggy Bailly, three hanks and eightcuts. 

When this result was made known, Betty Aikins burst into a loud fitof grief, in which she sobbed as if her very heart would break, andKathleen stooping down, congratulated the beautiful girl upon hervictory, kissing her at the same time as she spoke--an act of love andkindness in which she would have joyfully been followed by several ofher male friends, if they had dared to take that delicious liberty. 

The moment of victory, we believe, is that which may be relied upon asthe test of true greatness. Dora M'Mahon felt the pride of that momentin its fullest extent, but she felt it only to influence her better andnobler principles. After casting her eyes around to gather in, as itwere, that honest approbation which is so natural, and exchanging somerapid glances with the youth we have alluded to, she went over to herdefeated competitor, and taking her hand said, "Don't cry, Betty, youhave no right to be ashamed; sure, as you say, it's the first time youwor ever beaten; we couldn't all win; an' indeed if I feel proudnow, everyone knows an' says I have a right to be so; for where wasthere--ay, or where is there--such a spinner as you are?

"Shake hands now an' there's a kiss for you. If I won this kemp, it waswon more by chance than by anything else. "

These generous expressions were not lost on Betty; on the contrary, theysoothed her so much that she gave her hand cordially to her young andinteresting conqueress, after which they all repaired to a supper of newmilk and flummery, than which there is nothing more delicious within thewide range of luxury. This agreeable meal being over, they repaired tothe large barn where Mickey M'Grory the fiddler, was installed in hisown peculiar orchestra, consisting of an arm-chair of old Irish oak, brought out from Gerald Cavanagh's parlor. 

It would indeed be difficult to find together such a group of happyfaces. Gerald Cavanagh and his wife, Tom M'Mahon and his betterhalf, and several of the neighbors, of every age and creed, were allassembled; and, in this instance, neither gray hairs nor length of yearswere looked upon as privileged from a participation in the festivitiesof the evening. Among the rest, gaunt and grim, were the three Hogans, looking through the light-hearted assemblage with the dark and sinistervisages of thorough ruffians, who were altogether incapable of joiningin the cheerful and inoffensive amusements that went forward aroundthem. Kate Hogan sat in an obscure corner behind the fiddler, whereshe was scarcely visible, but from which she enjoyed a full view ofeverything that occurred in the house. 

A shebeen-man, named Parra Bradagh, father to Barney, whom the readerhas already met in the still-house, brought a cask of poteen to thestable, where he disposed of it _sub silentio_, by which we mean withoutthe knowledge of Gerald Cavanagh, who would not have suffered any suchperson about his place, had the circumstance been made known to him. Among the rest, in the course of the evening, our friend O'Finigan thePhilomath made his appearance, and as was his wont very considerablyadvanced in liquor. The worthy pedagogue, on inquiring for the queenof the kemp, as he styled her, was told that he might know her by theflowers in her hair. "There she is, masther, " said one of them, "wid theroses on her head. "

"Well, " said O'Finigan, looking about him with surprise, "I have, beforenow, indulged in the Cerelian juice until my eyes have become possessedof that equivocal quality called the double vision, but I must confessthat this is the first occasion on which the quality aforesaid has beenquadrupled. Instead of one queen, wid Flora's fragrant favors in herlock, I think I see four. "

Finigan indeed was right. Dora, on being presented with a simple chapletof flowers, as the heroine of the night, in a spirit of true magnanimitygenerously divided the chaplet among her three rivals, thus, like everybrave heart, resting satisfied with the consciousness of victory, andanxious that those who had approached her so nearly should also share inits honors. 

It is not our intention to enter into a detailed account of the dancing, nor of the good humor which prevailed among them. It is enough to saythat the old people performed minuets and cotillions, and the youngfolks, jigs, reels, and country dances; hornpipes were performed upondoors, by rural dancers, and all the usual variations of mirth andamusement were indulged in on the occasion. 

We have said that Tom M'Mahon and his family were there, but we shouldhave added, with one exception. Bryan did not arrive until the eveningwas far advanced, having been prevented by pressing business connectedwith his farm. On making his appearance, he was greeted by a murmur ofwelcomes, and many an honest hand was extended to him. Up until thenthere were two individuals who observed Kathleen Cavanagh closely, andwe must ourselves admit that both came to the same conclusion. Its wasclear that during the whole evening she had been unusually pensive, if not actually depressed, although a general observer would have seennothing in her beyond the natural sedateness of her manner. The two inquestion were Kate Hogan and Dora M'Mahon. On Bryan's arrival, however, the color of her cheek deeped into a richer beauty, the eye became moresparkling, and a much slighter jest than before moved her into mirth. Such, however, we are, and such is the mystery of our nature. It mighthave been remarked that the Hogans eyed Bryan, soon after making hisappearance, with glances expressive of anything but good feeling. It wasnot, however, when he first arrived, or danced with Hanna Cavanagh, thatthese boding glances were turned upon him, but on the occasion of hisperforming a reel with Kathleen. It might have been noticed that theylooked at him, and afterwards at each other, in a manner that couldadmit of but little misapprehension. 

"Philip, " observed Finigan, addressing the elder Hogan, --"Philip, the Macedonian--monarch of Macedon, I say, is not that performancea beautiful specimen of the saltatory art? There is manly beauty, OPhilip! and modest carriage. 

 "'With aquil beauty formed, and aquil grace, Hers the soft blushes of the opening morn, And his the radiance of the risen day. '"

"It's night now, misther, if you plaise, " returned Hogan, gruffly;"but we don't want your opinion here--stick to your pothooks andhangers--keep to your trade. "

"The _pot-hooks_ and _hangers_ are more _tui generis_, you misbegottensatyr, " replied the schoolmaster; "that is, more appropriatelyconcatenated with your own trade than wid mine. I have no trade, sirra, but a profession, and neither have you. You stand in the same degradedratio to a tradesman that a rascally quack does to a regular surgeon. "

"You had better keep a civil tongue in jour head, " replied Hogan, nettled at the laughter which the schoolmaster raised at his expense. 

"What! a civil tongue for you! Polite language for a rascallysotherer of ould skillets and other anonymous utensils. Why, whatare you?--firstly, a general violation of the ten commandments; and, secondly, a misshapen but faithful impersonation of the seven deadlysins. Take my word for it, my worthy Macedonian, you will die any deathbut a horizontal one--it's veracity I'm telling you. Yet there is somecomfort for you too--some comfort, I say again; for you who never livedone upright hour will die an upright death. A certain official willerect a perpendicular with you; but for that touck of Mathematics youmust go to the hangman, at whose hands you will have to receive therites of your church, you monstrous bog-trotting Gorgon. Mine a trade!Shades of Academus, am I to bear this!"

Finigan was, like most of his class, a privileged man; but on thisoccasion the loudness of the mirth prevented Hogan's reply from beingheard. As to violence, nobody that knew the poor pedagogue could everdream of using it towards him, and there is little doubt that theconsciousness of this caused him to give his tongue a license whenprovoked, which he otherwise would not have dared to venture upon. When he first made his appearance he was so far advanced in liquor asscarcely to be able to stand, and it was quite evident that the heat ofthe crowded house by no means improved him. 

In about a quarter of an hour after Bryan and Kathleen had danced, thegood people of the kemp were honored by the appearance of Hycy Burkeamong them--not in his jockey dress, but in a tight-fitting suit, thatset off his exceedingly well-made person to great advantage. Infact, Hycy was a young fellow of a remarkably handsome face, fullof liveliness and apparent good humor, and a figure that was nearlyperfect. He addressed the persons present with an air of easycondescension, and went over immediately and shook hands, in a verycordial manner, with Gerald Cavanagh and his wife, after which he turnedround and bowed to the daughters. He then addressed Bryan, beside whomKathleen was sitting. 

"Bryan, " said he, "there will be mistakes in the best of families. Ihate enmity. How, do you do?"

Bryan nodded, and replied, "Pretty well, Hycy--how are you?"

Cavanagh and his wife were evidently quite delighted to see him; thegood man rose and made him take his own seat, and Mrs. Cavanagh paid himevery conceivable mark of attention. 

"Mrs. Cavanagh, " said he, after some chat, "may I be permitted toindulge in the felicity of a dance with Miss Cavanagh?"

"Which of them?" asked the mother, and then added, without waiting for areply--"to be sure you may. "

"The felicity of a dance! that was well expressed, Mr. Hycy; but itwas not for nothing that you broke grammatical ground under PatriciusFinigan--ah, no; the early indoctrinations will tell;--that is clear. "

"I mean Miss Kathleen, " replied Hycy, without paying any attention toFinigan's observations. 

"Why not?" exclaimed both; "of course you will--go over and bring herout. "

Hycy, approaching her, said, in his blandest and most persuasive manner, "Miss Cavanagh, will you allow me the gratification of dancing a reelwith you?"

"I'm obliged to you, Mr. Burke, " she replied gravely; "I have justdanced a reel with Bryan M'Mahon here, and I don't intend to dance anymore to-night. "

"A simple reel?" said Hycy; "perhaps you will so far favor me? I shallconsider it as a favor, I assure you. "

"Excuse me, Mr. Burke, but I won't dance any more to-night. "

"That's hard, " he replied, "especially as I came all the way to havethat pleasure. Perhaps you will change your mind, Miss Cavanagh?"

"I'm not in the habit of changing my mind, Mr. Burke, " she replied, "andI don't see any reason why I should do so now. I say once for all that Iwon't dance any more to-night. "

"What is it, " asked the mother, on perceiving her hesitation; "won't shedance wid you? Hut, tut, Kathleen, what nonsense is this? To be sure youmust dance wid Mr. Burke; don't take any refusal, Mr. Burke--is that allyou know about girls. --sure nineteen refusals is aquil to one consent. Go over, Gerald, and make her dance wid him, " she added, turning to herhusband. 

"What's the matter, Kathleen, that you won't dance wid Mr. Hycy?" askedthe good man. 

"Because I have danced all I will dance to-night, father. "

"Tut, nonsense, you foolish girl--it's proud you ought to be that he'dax you. Get up and dance a reel wid him. "

Hanna, who knew her sister's resolution when once formed, immediatelycame to her rescue. "Don't ask her, father, " she said; "the truth is, that I believe she has a headache--however, I'll take her place--haveyou any objection to me, Mr. Burke?"

None in the world--he would be very happy--only he regretted that hecould not have that pleasure also with his sister. 

"Ah, Mr. Hycy--which is properly Hyacinthus, " said Finigan; "I am ableto perceive that Cupid declines to be propitious in that quarter, orperhaps it's the _irae amantium_, ---which is, on being rendered intovernacularity, a falling out of lovers; and if so, do not despair; foras certain as it is, it will be followed by that most delectable ofprocesses, the _redintegratio amoris_, or the renewing of love. In fact, he is a little better than a tyro--an ignoramus, who doesn't quarrel atleast once a week, wid the fair object of his amorous inclinations, an'that for the sake of the reconciliaitons. "

Hycy and Hanna were now about to dance, when Philip Hogan came forward, and, with an oath, declared that Kathleen must dance--"He wouldn't seeMr. Burke insulted that way by any such airs--and by--she must dance. Come, " said he, "what stuff is this--we'll see whether you or I isstrongest;" and as he spoke he seized her rudely by the arm, and wasabout to pull her out on the floor. 

Bryan M'Mahon sprung to his feet. "Let her go, you ruffian, " heexclaimed; "let her go this instant. "

"No, I won't, " replied the savage; "an' not for you, at any rate. Come, Miss Kathleen, out you'll go:--for you indeed, " he added, in a ferociousparenthesis, looking at Bryan; "it's you that's the cause of all this. Come, miss, dance you must. "

The words were scarcely uttered when M'Mahon, by a single blow on theneck, felled him like an ox, and in an instant the whole place was ascene of wild commotion. The Hogans, however, at all times unpopular, had no chance in an open affray on such an occasion as this. The feelingthat predominated was, that the ruffianly interference of Philip hadbeen justly punished; and ere many minutes the usual harmony, with theexception of some threatening looks and ferocious under growls from theHogans, was restored. Hycy and Hanna then went on with their dance, andwhen it was over, the schoolmaster rose to depart. 

"Mr. Burke, " said he, "you are and have the reputation of being aperfect gentleman _homo factus ad unguem_--as has been said by thelearned little Roman, who, between you and me, was not overburthenedwith an excess of morality. I take the liberty, jinteels, of wishing youa good-night--_precor vobia prosperam noctem!_ Ah, I can do it yet; butit wasn't for nothing that I practised the peripatetics in larned Kerry, where the great O'Finigan is not yet forgotten. I shall now seek acontiguous place of repose, until the consequences of some slightbacchanalin libations on my part shall have dispersed themselves intothin air. "

He accordingly departed, but from the unsteadiness of his step it wasclear that, as he said, the place of his repose must be contiguousindeed. Had he been conscious of his own motions it is not likely hewould have sought for repose in Cavanagh's kiln, then the habitation ofthe Hogans. It was probably the fact of the door having been left open, which was generally the case in summer, that induced him to enter--forenter he did--ignorant, it is to be presumed, that the dwelling hewas about to enter was then inhabited by the Hogans, whom he very muchdisrelished. 

The place was nearly waste, and had a very desolate look. Scatteredaround, and littered upon shake-down beds of straw, some half dozenyoung besmutted savages, male and female, lay stretched in allpositions, some north, others south, without order or decency, but allseeming in that barbarous luxury which denotes strong animal health andan utter disregard of cleanliness and bodily comfort. Over in one of thecorners lay three or four budgets, old iron skillets, hammers, lumps ofmelted lead, broken pots, a quantity of cows' horns for spoons, woodendishes that required clasping, old kettles that wanted repair, a coupleof cast off Poteen Stills, and a new one half made--all of which werevisible by the light of a large log of bog-fir which lay burning in thefire-place. On looking around him, he descended a flight of stone stepsthat led to the fireplace or the kiln or opening in which the fuel usedto dry the grain was always burned. This corner, which was eight or tenfeet below the other portion of the floor, being, in general, during thesummer months filled with straw, received the drowsy pedagogue, who, ina few minutes, was as sound asleep as any of them about him. 

Hycy, who was conscious of his good figure, danced two or three timesafterwards. 

Dora M'Mahon had the honor of being his partner, as had one or two ofthe best looking girls present. At the close of the last dance he lookedsignificantly at the Hogans, and nodded towards the door; after which itmight have been observed, that they slunk out one at a time, followed ina few minutes by Kate Hycy, after some further chat with Gerald Cavanaghand his wife, threw half a crown to Mickey M'Grory, and in his usualcourteous phraseology, through which there always ran, by the way, a veinof strong irony, he politely wished them all a good night. 

CHAPTER VIII. --Anonymous Letter with a Name to It

--Finigan's Dialogue with Hycy

The severest tax upon Hycy's powers of invention was, in consequence ofhis habits of idleness, to find means of occupying his time. Sometimes, it is true, he condescended to oversee the men while at work, butthere it was generally found that so far from keeping them to theiremployment, he was a considerable drawback upon their industry. Theordinary business of his life, however, was riding about the country, and especially into the town of Ballymacan and home again. He was also aregular attendant in all the neighboring fairs; and we may safely assertthat no race in the province ever came off without him. 

On the second day after his interview with Teddy Phats and the Hogans, he was riding past the post-office, when he heard the window tapped, and, on approaching, a letter was handed out to him, which on opening hefound to contain the following communication:--

"Worthy Mr. Hyacinthus--

"A friend unknown to you, but not altogether so to fame, and one. Whom no display of the subtlest ingenuity on behalf of your acute andsagacious intellect could ever decypher through the medium of thisepistle, begs to convey to you a valuable portion of anonymousinformation. When he says that he is not unknown to fame, the assertion, as far as it goes, is pregnant wid veracity. Mark that I say, as faras it goes, by which is meant the assertion as well as the fame of yourfriend, the inditer of this significant epistle. Forty-eight squaremiles of good sound fame your not inerudite correspondent canconscientiously lay claim to; and although there is, with regret I admitit, a considerable portion of the square superficies alluded to, wasteand uncultivated moor, yet I can say, wid that racy touch of genial andexpressive pride which distinguishes men of letters in general, that theother portions of this fine district are inhabited by a multitudinityof population in the highest degree creditable to the prolific powersof the climate. 'Tisn't all as one, then, as that thistle-browsingquadruped. Barney Heffeman, who presumes, in imitation of his betters, to write Philomath after his name, and whose whole extent of literaryreputation is not more than two or three beggarly townlands, whom, bythe way, he is inoculating successfully wid his own ripe and flourishingignorance. No, sir; nor like Gusty Gibberish, or (as he has been mostfacetiously christened by his Reverence, Father O'Flaherty) DemosthenesM'Gosther, inasmuch as he is distinguished for an aisy and prodigalsuperfluity of mere words, unsustained by intelligibility or meaning, but who cannot claim in his own person a mile and a half of dacentreputation. However, _quid multis_ Mr. Hyacinthus; 'tis no indoctrinatedor obscure scribe who now addresses you, and who does so from causesthat may be salutary to your own health and very gentlemanly fame, according as you resave the same, not pretermitting interests involving, probably, on your part, an abundant portion of pecuniarity. 

"In short, then, it has reached these ears, Mr. Hyacinthus, and betweenyou and me, they are not such a pair as, in consequence of theirlongitudinity, can be copiously shaken, or which rise and fall accordingto the will of the wearer; like those of the thistle-browser alreadyalluded to; it has reached them that you are about to substantiate aa disreputable--excuse the phrase--co-partnership wid four of the mostornamental villains on Hibernian earth, by which you must understand meto mane that the villains aforesaid are not merely accomplished in allthe plain principles and practices of villainy, but finished off evento its natest and most inganious decorations. Their whole life has beenmost assiduously and successfully devoted to a general violation of theten commandments, as well as to the perpetual commission of the sevendeadly sins. Nay, the 'reserved cases' themselves can't escape them, andit is well known that they wont rest satisfied wid the wide catalogue ofordinary and general iniquity, but they must, by way of luxury, have alick at blasphemy, and some of the rarer vices, as often as they can, for the villains are so fastidious that they won't put up widcommon wickedness like other people. I cannot, however, wid anythingapproximating to a safe conscience, rest here. What I have said hasreference to the laws of God, but what I am about to enumerate relatesto the laws of man--to the laws of the land Wid respect, then, to them, I do assure you, that although I myself look upon the violation of agreat number of the latter wid a very vanial squint, still, I say, Ido assure you that they have not left a single law made by Parliamentunfractured. They have gone over the whole statute-book several times, and I believe are absolutely of opinion that the Parliament is doingnothing. The most lynx-eyed investigator of old enactments could notfind one which has escaped them, for the villains are perfectly blackletter in that respect; and what is in proper keeping wid this, wheneverthey hear of a new Act of Parliament they cannot rest either night orday until they break it. And now for the inference: be on yourguard against this pandemonial squad. Whatever your object may be incultivating and keeping society wid them, theirs is to ruin you--fleecewas the word used--an I then to cut and run, leaving Mr. Hycy--theacute, the penetrating, the accomplished--completely in the lurch. Beinfluenced, then, by the amicitial admonitions of the inditer of thiscorrespondence. Become not a smuggler--forswear poteen. The Lord forgiveme, Mr. Hycy--no, I only wished to say forswear--not the poteen--butany connection wid the illegal alembic from which it is distillated, otherwise they will walk off wid the 'doublings, ' or strong liquor, leaving you nothing but the residuum or feints. Take a friend's advice, therefore, and retrograde out of all society and connection wid thevillains I have described; or if you superciliously overlook thiswarning, book it down as a fact that admits of no negation, thatyou will be denuded of reputation, of honesty, and of any pecuniarycontingencies that you may happen to possess. This is a sincere advicefrom

"Your Anonymous Friend, "Patricius O'Finigan, Philomath. "

After perusing this characteristic production, Hycy paused for a little, and felt it very probable that there might be some reasonable groundsfor its production, although he could scarcely understand upon whatmotive these fellows should proceed to practice treachery towards him. That they were without principle or honesty he was perfectly satisfied;but he knew it was their interest to keep within bounds in all mattersconnected with their employment, He laughed very heartily at Finigan'sblunder--for such it evidently was--in signing his name to a documentthat he intended to be anonymous. 

"At all events, " thought he, "I will ride over to his 'seminary, ' as hecalls it, and see what he can mean, or what his object is in sending mesuch a warning. "

He accordingly did so, and in some twenty minutes reached a small cabinthat stood about a couple of hundred yards from the high-road. A littlebridle way led to it, as did several minor pathways, each radiatingfrom a different direction. It was surrounded by four or five acres ofcommon, where the children played from twelve to one, at which hourMr. O'Finigan went to the house of some wealthy benefactor to dine. Thelittle village of Ballydruthy, at a short distance from which it stood, was composed of a couple dozen dwelling-houses, a chapel, a smallgrocer's and publican's, together with a Pound at the entrance, throughwhich ran a little stream necessary to enable the imprisoned cattle todrink. 

On riding up to the school, Hycy, as he approached the door, heard hisown name repeated by at least two dozen voices. 

"Here's a gintleman, masther"--"It's Misther Hycy Burke, sir "--"It is, bedad, sir, Hycy the sportheen--"

"Him that rides the race, masther"--"Ay, an' he has on top-boots andbuckskins, an's as gran' as a gintleman--"

"Silence!" said Finigan, "silence! I say; is this proper scholasticdecorum in the presence of a stranger? Industry and taciturnity, youreptiles, or castigation shall result. Here, Paddy Sparable, " headded, rising up--"here, you nailroad, assume my office, and rulethe establishment till I return; and, mark me, as the son of a nailer, sirra, I expect that you will rule them with a rod of iron--ha! ha! ha!"

"Ay, but Paddy Pancake's here to-day, sir, an' he's able to welt me; sothat's it's only leathered I'd get, sir, i' you plase. "

"But have you no officers? Call in aid, I ordher you. Can't you makeSam Scaddhan and Phiddher Mackleswig there two policeman get Pancakedown--flatten him--if he prove contumacious during my absence. Pancake, mark me, obedience is your cue, or, if not, the castigator here is youralternative; there it is, freshly cut--ripe and ready--and you are notto be told, at this time o' day, what portion of your corpus will catchit. Whish-h-h!--silence! I say. How do you do, Mr. Burke? I am proud ofa visit from you, sir; perhaps you would light down and examine a class. My Greeks are all absent to-day; but I have a beautiful class o' Romansin the Fourth Book of Virgil--immortal Maro. Do try them, Mr. Hycy; ifthey don't do Dido's death in a truly congenial spirit I am no classic. Of one thing I can assure you, that they ought; for I pledge myreputation it is not the first time I've made them practice the Irishcry over it. This, however, was but natural; for it is now well known tothe learned that, if Dido herself was not a fair Hibernian, she at leastspoke excellent Irish. Ah, Mr. Hycy, " he added, with a grin, "the birchis the only pathetic switch growing! Will you come in, sir?"

"No, thank you, Mr. Finigan; but perhaps you would have the goodnessto come out for a little;" and, as he spoke, he nodded towards thepublic-house. "I know the boys will be quiet until you return. "

"If they don't, " replied Finigan, "the alternative is in no shapeenigmatical. Mark what I've already said, gintlemen. Sparable, do youkeep a faithful journal of the delinquents; and observe that there areoffices of importance in this world besides flagellating erudition intoreptiles like you. "

He then looked about him with an air of vast importance, and joined Hycyon his way to the public-house. Having ordered in the worthy pedagogue'sfavorite beverage, not forgetting something of the same kind forhimself, he addressed Finigan as follows:--

"Finigan, I received a devilish queer letter from you to-day--take yourliquor in the mean time--what did you mean by it?"

"From me, Mr. Hycy--_nego_, I say--_pugnis et calc bu nego_. "

"Come, come, you know you wrote me an anonymous letter, referring tosome ridiculous copartnership or other that I can neither make head nortail of. Tell me candidly what you meant. "

"Very good, Mr. Burke; but sure I know of old that jocularity was alwaysyour forte--even when laying in under my own instruction that soundclassical substratum on which the superstructure of your subsequentknowledge was erected, you were always addicted to the facetious and thefabulous--both of which you contrived to blend together with an ease andvolubility of language that could not be surpassed. "

"That is all very well; but you need not deny that you wrote me theletter. Let me ask you seriously, what was it you warned me against?"

"_Propino tibi salulem_--here's to you. No, but let me ask you what youare at, Mr. Hycy? You may have resaved an anonymous letter, but I amignorant why you should paternize it upon me. "

"Why, because it has all the marks and tokens of you. "

"Eh?--to what does that amount? Surely you know my handwriting?"

"Perfectly; but this is disguised evidently. "

"Faith, " said the other, laughing, "maybe the inditer of it wasdisguised when he wrote it. "

"It might be, " replied Hycy; "however, take your liquor, and in the meantime I shall feel exceedingly obliged to you, Mr. Finigan, if you willtell me the truth at once--whether you wrote it or whether you didnot?"

"My response again is in the negative, " replied Finigan--"I disclaim italtogether. I am not the scribe, you may rest assured of it, nor can Isay who is. "

"Well, then, " said Hycy, "I find I must convict you yourself of thefabulous at least; read that, " said he, placing the letter in his ownhands. "Like a true Irishman you signed your name unconsciously; and nowwhat have you to say for yourself?"

"Simply, " replied the other, "that some knave, of most fictitiousimagination, has forged my name to it. No man can say that that is mymanuscription, Mr. Hycy. " These words he uttered with great coolness;and Hycy, who was in many things a shrewd young fellow, deemed it betterto wait until the liquor, which was fast disappearing, should begin tooperate. At length, when about three-quarters of an hour had passed, heresolved to attack his vanity. 

"Well, well, Finigan, as regards this letter, I must say I feel a gooddeal disappointed. "

"Why so, Mr. Hycy?"

"Why, because I did not think there was any other man in the country whocould have written it. "

"Eh? how is that now?"

"Faith, it's very simple; the letter is written with surprisingability--the language is beautiful--and the style, like the land ofCanaan, flowing with milk and honey. It is certainly a most uncommonproduction. "

"Now, seriously, do you think so? At all events, Mr. Hycy, it waswritten by a friend of yours--that's a clear case. "

"I think so; but what strikes me is its surprising ability; no wonderthe writer should say that he is not unknown to fame--he could notpossibly remain in obscurity. "

"Mr. Hycy, your health--I remember when you were wid me you certainlywere _facile princeps_ for a ripe judgment, even in your rudiments;so then, you are of opinion that the epistle in question has janius?I think myself it is no everyday production; not I believe such asthe thistle-browser Heffernan, or Misther Demosthenes M'Gosther couldachieve--the one wid his mile and a half, and the other wid his threetownlands of reputation. No, sir, to the divil I pitch them both; theycould never indite such a document. Your health, Mr. Hycy--_propinotibi_, I say; and you are right, _ille ego_--it's a a fact; I am theman, sir--I acknowledge the charge. "

This admission having been made, we need scarcely add that anexplanation was at at once given by Finigan of the motive which hadinduced him to write the letter. 

"On laving the kemp, " said he, "and getting into the open air--_subdiu_, Mr. Hycy--I felt a general liquidation of my whole bodilystrength, with a strong disposition to make short excursions to theright or to the left rather than hold my way straight a-head, with, Imust confess, an equal tendency to deposit my body on my mother earthand enact the soporiferous. On passing Gerald Cavanagh's kiln, wherethe Hogans kennel, I entered, and was greeted wid such a chorus ofsternutation as you might expect from a pigsty in midsummer, and made meenvy the unlicked young savages who indulged in it. At the period spokenof neither you nor they had come in from the kemp. Even this is but adim recollection, and I remember nothing more until I overheard yourvoice and theirs in dialogue as you were about to depart. After youwent, I heard the dialogue which I hinted at in the letter, betweenTeddy Phats and them; and knowing my position and the misbegotten satyrsby whom I was surrounded, I patiently waited until they were asleep, when I quietly took my departure. "

Burke could not help inferring from Finigan's manner, that he hadoverheard a greater portion of their conversation on the occasionalluded to than he seemed disposed to acknowledge. 

"Now, Finigan, " he said, "I feel disposed to place every confidence inyou. Will you answer candidly the question I am about to propose to you?Did you hear Bryan M'Mahon's name mentioned?"

"You say, Mr. Hycy, " replied Finigan, emptying his glass, "that youwould enthertain no apprehension in placing confidence in me?"

"Not the slightest, " replied Hycy; "I believe you to be the very soul ofhonor; and, besides, are you not my old master? As you say yourself, didI not break grammatical ground, under you?"

"The soul of honor, " replied the pedagogue, complacently--"that isexcellently said. Well, then, Mr. Burke, I shall not deal out myconfidence by beggarly instalments--I did hear Bryan M'Mahon's namementioned; and I heard a plan alluded to between you and them forreducing him to--"

"That was all humbug, Finigan, so far as I am concerned; but for thepresent I am obliged to let them suppose what you allude to, in orderto keep them honest to myself if I can. You know they have a kind ofhereditary hatred against the M'Mahons; and if I did not allow them totake their own way in this, I don't think I could depend on them. "

"Well, there is raison in that too, " replied Finigan. 

"I am sure, Finigan, " proceeded Hycy, "that you are too honorable a manto breathe either to Bryan M'Mahon or any one else, a single syllableof the conversation which you overheard merely by accident. I say Iam certain you will never let it transpire, either by word of mouth orwriting. In me you may always calculate on finding a sincere friend;and of this let me assure you, that your drink, if everything goes rightwith us, won't cost you much--much! not a penny; if you had two throatsinstead of one--as many necks as Hydra, we should supply them all. "

"Give me your hand, Mr. Hycy--you are a gintleman, and I always saidwould be one--I did, sir--I prognosticated as much years ago; andsincerely felicitous am I that my prognostications have been verifiedfor so far. I said you would rise--that exaltation was before you--andthat your friends might not feel at all surprised at the elevatedposition in which you will die. _Propino tibi_, again--and do not fearthat ever revelation of mine shall facilitate any catastrophe that mayawait you. "

Hycy looked keenly into the schoolmaster's face as he uttered the lastobservation; but in the maudlin and collapsed features then before himhe could read nothing that intimated the sagacity of a double meaning. This satisfied him; and after once more exacting from Finigan a pledgeof what he termed honorable confidence, he took his departure. 

CHAPTER IX. --A Little Polities, Much Friendship, and Some Mystery

This communication determined Hycy to forego his intention for thepresent, and he consequently allowed the summer and autumn to passwithout keeping up much intercourse with either Teddy Phats or theHogans. The truth is, that Burke, although apparently frank and candid, was constitutionally cautious, and inclined a good deal to suspicion. He feared that no project, the knowledge of which was held in commonwith Finigan, could be long kept a secret; and for that reason he makeup his mind to postpone the matter, and allow it to die away out of theschoolmaster's mind ere he bestowed any further attention upon it. Inthe meantime, the state of the country was gradually assuming a worseand more depressing character. The season was unfavorable; and althoughwe do not assert that many died of immediate famine, yet we know thathundreds--nay, thousands--died from the consequences of scarcity anddestitution--or, in plainer words, from fever and other diseases inducedby bad and insufficient food, and an absence of the necessary comfortsof life. Indeed, at the period of our narrative, the position of Irelandwas very gloomy; but when, we may ask, has it been otherwise, withinthe memory of man, or the records of history? Placed as the country was, emigration went forward on an extensive scale, --emigration, too, ofthat peculiar description which every day enfeebles and impoverishesthe country, by depriving her of all that approaches to anything likea comfortable and independent yeomanry. This, indeed, is a kind ofdepletion which no country can bear long; and, as it is, at the momentwe are writing this, progressing at a rate beyond all precedent, it willnot, we trust, be altogether uninteresting to inquire into some of thecauses that have occasioned it. Let not our readers apprehend, however, that we are about to turn our fictitious narrative into a dissertationon political economy. Of course the principle cause of emigration is thepoverty and depressed state of the country; and it follows naturally, that whatever occasions our poverty will necessarily occasionemigration. The first cause of our poverty then, is Absenteeism, which, by drawing six or seven millions out of the country, deprives our peopleof employment and means of life to that amount. The next is the generalinattention of Irish landlords to the state and condition of theirown property, and an inexcusable want of sympathy with their tenantry, which, indeed, is only a corollary from the former; for it can hardlybe expected that those who wilfully neglect themselves will feel awarm interest in others. The next is the evil of subletting, by whichproperty becomes overloaded with human beings, who, for the most part, are bound by no ties whatsoever to the owner of the soil. He isnot their landlord, nor are they his tenants; and so far from theirinterests being in any way reciprocal, they are actually adversative. It is his interest to have them removed, and, as circumstancesunfortunately stand, it is theirs to remain, inasmuch as theiralternative is ruin since they have no place of shelter to receive them. 

Political corruption, in the shape of the forty-shilling franchise, wasanother cause, and one of the very worst, which led to the prostrationof the country by poverty and moral degradation, and for this theproprietors of the soil are solely responsible. Nor can the use of thepotato, as the staple food of the laboring classes, in connection withthe truck system, and the consequent absence of money payments, inaddition to the necessary ignorance of domestic and social comfortsthat resulted from them, be left out of this wretched catalogue of ourgrievances. Another cause of emigration is to be found in the high andexorbitant rents at which land is held by all classes of farmers--withsome exceptions we admit, as in the case of old leases--but especiallyby those who hold under middlemen, or on the principle of sublettinggenerally. By this system a vast deal of distress and petty but mostharrassing oppression is every day in active operation upon the propertyof the head landlord, which he can never know, and for which he is in noother way responsible unless by having ever permitted the existence ofit for any purpose whatsoever. 

In a country distracted like Ireland, it would be impossible to omit theexistence of political and religious animosity as a strong and prominentcause of our wretched poverty, and consequently of emigration. Thepriest, instead of leaving temporal affairs to temporal men, mostimproperly mingles himself in the angry turmoils of politics, to which, by his interference, he communicates a peculiar and characteristicbitterness. The landlord, on the other hand, having his own interests toconsult, does not wish to arm a political opponent with such powers ashe knows will most assuredly be turned against himself, and consequentlyoften refuses to grant a lease unless to those who will pledgethemselves to support him. This state of things, involving, as it does, much that is wrong on both sides, is, has been, and will be, a presentand permanent curse to the country--a curse, too, which, until thereis more of humanity and justice on the one side, and of educationand liberal feeling on the other, is not likely to disappear from thecountry. 

Though last, not least, comes the unaccountable and guilty neglect ofour legislature (if we can call it ours) in everything that pertained toIrish interests. This, together with its almost necessary consequence ofdishonest agitation on the one hand, and well founded dissatisfaction onthe other, nearly completes the series of the causes which have producedthe poverty of the country, and, as a direct result, the emigration ofall that is most comfortable, independent, and moral among us. 

This poverty, arising, as it does, from so many causes, has propagateditself with a rapidity which is startling; for every one knows thatpoverty is proverbially prolific. And yet it is a grievous anomaly toreflect that a country so far steeped in misery and destitution asto have nearly one-half of its population in a state of most pitiablepauperism, possesses a soil capable of employing and maintaining threetimes the number of its inhabitants. When the causes, however, which wehave just enumerated are seriously looked at and considered, we thinkits extraordinary result is, after all, so very natural, that the wonderwould indeed be were the state of Ireland otherwise than it is. Asmatters stand at present, and as they are likely to continue, unlessparliament shall interfere by a comprehensive measure of legislation, we must only rest contented with seeing the industrious, moral, andrespectable portion of our countrymen abandoning the land of theirbirth and affections, and nothing but the very dregs--degraded alikeby idleness and immorality--remaining behind to multiply and perpetuatetheir own wretchedness and degradation. 

It has been often said, and with great truth, that no man is moredevotedly attached to his native soil than an Irishman; yet it mayreasonably be asked, how this principle of attachment can be reconciledwith the strong tendency to emigration which characterizes our people. We reply, that the tendency in question is a proof of the love of honestindustry, enterprise, and independence, by which our countrymen, whennot degraded by neglect and poverty, are actuated. It is not of thisclass, however so degraded, that we now speak. On the contrary wetake the decent and respectable farmer as the subject of ourillustration--the man who, loving his native fields as if they were ofhis blood, would almost as soon part with the one as the other. This manit is, who, with the most child-like tenderness of affection towards theland on which he and his have lived for centuries, will, nevertheless, the moment he finds himself on the decline, and with no cheering hopeof prosperity or encouragement before him or his family, resolutelydetermine to forget everything but the noble duties which he owesto himself and them. He sees clearly, from the unhappy state ofthe country, and the utter want of sympathy and attention which heexperiences at the hands of those who ought to have his interests atheart, that if he attempt to hold his position under circumstances sodepressing and unfavorable, he must gradually sink, until he and hisbecome mingled with the great mass of pauperism which lies lik a anincubus upon the energies of the country. What, therefore, can possiblyprove more strongly than this that the Irishman who is not dragged intothe swamp of degradation, in which hope and energy are paralyzed, isstrongly and heroically characterized by I those virtues of industry andenterprise that throw their lustre over social life?

There are other and still more indefensible causes, however, which toofrequently drive the independent farmer out of the country. In toomany cases it happens that the rapacity and dishonesty of the agent, countenanced or stimulated by the necessities and reckless extravaganceof the landlord, fall, like some unwholesome blight, upon thatenterprise and industry which would ultimately, if properly encouraged, make the country prosperous and her landed proprietors independent men. We allude to the nefarious and monstrous custom of ejecting tenants whohave made improvements, or, when permitted to remain, making them payfor the improvements which they have made. A vast proportion of thiscrying and oppressive evil must be laid directly to the charge of thosewho fill the responsible situation of agents to property in Ireland, than whom in general there does not exist, a more unscrupulous, oppressive, arrogant, and dishonest class of men. Exceptions of coursethere are, and many, but speaking of them as a body, we unhappily assertnothing but what the condition of property, and of those who live uponit, do at this moment and have for many a year testified. 

Several months had now elapsed, and although the M'Mahons had waitedupon the agent once or twice since the interview which we have alreadydescribed between him and Tom, yet there seemed no corresponding anxietyon the part of Fethertonge to have the leases prepared or executed. Thisneglect or reluctance did not occasion much uneasiness to the old man, who was full of that generous and unsuspecting confidence that hiscountrymen always repose in the promise of a landlord respecting alease, which they look upon, or did at least, as something absolutelyinviolable and sacred, as indeed it ought to be. Bryan, however, who, although a young man, was not destitute of either observation or theexperience which it bestows, and who, moreover, had no disposition toplace unlimited confidence in Fethertonge, began to entertain some vaguesuspicions with reference to the delay. Fethertonge, however, had notthe reputation of being a harsh man, or particularly unjust in hisdealings with the world; on the contrary, he was rather liked thanotherwise; for so soft was the melody of his voice, and so irresistiblethe friendship and urbanity of his manner, that many persons felt asmuch gratified by the refusal of a favor from him as they did at itsbeing granted by another. At length, towards the close of October, Bryanhimself told his father that he would, call upon the agent and urge himto expedite the matter of the leases. "I don't know how it is, " saidhe, "but some way or other I don't feel comfortable about this business:Fethertonge is very civil and very dacent, and is well spoken of ingeneral; but for all that there's always a man here an' there that sayshe's not to be depended on. "

"Troth an' he is to be depended on, " said his generous father; "hiswords isn't like the words of a desaver, and it isn't till he shows thecloven foot that I'll ever give in that he's, dishonest. "

"Well, " said Bryan, "I'm sure I for one hope you may be right; but, atany rate, as he's at home now I'll start and see him. "

"Do then, " said his father, "bekaise I know you're a favorite of his;for he tould me so wid his own lips. "

"Well, " replied the other, laughing, "I hope you're right there too;I'm sure I have no objection;" and he accordingly set out to seeFethertonge, but with something of an impression that the object ofhis visit was not likely to be accomplished without difficulty, ifaccomplished at all. 

On reaching the agent's house he met a thin, tall man, named Clinton, with a hooked nose and sinister aspect, riding down the avenue, afterhaving paid Fethertonge a visit. This person was the gauger of thedistrict, a bachelor and a man of considerable wealth, got together, it is suspected, by practices that were not well capable of bearing thelight. His family consisted of a niece and a nephew, the latter of whomhad recently become a bosom friend of the accomplished Hycy Burke, who, it was whispered, began to look upon Miss Clinton with a partial eye. Hycy had got acquainted with him at the Herringstown races, wherehe, Hycy, rode and won a considerable sweepstakes; and as both younggentlemen were pretty much of the same habits of life, a very warmintimacy had, for some time past, subsisted between them. Clinton, towhom M'Mahon was known, addressed him in a friendly manner, and, aftersome chat, he laid the point of his whip gently upon Bryan's shoulder, so as to engage his attention. 

"M'Mahon, " said he, "I am glad I have met you, and I trust our meetingwill be for your good. You have had a dispute with Hycy Burke?"

"Why, sir, " replied Bryan, smiling, "if I had it wasn't such as it wasworth his while to talk about. "

"Well, M'Mahon, that's generously said on your part--now, listen to me;don't allow yourself to be drawn into any illegal or illicit proceedingsby any one, friend or foe--if so, you will only put yourself into thepower of your enemies; for enemies you have, I can assure you. "

"They say, sir, there is no one without them, " replied Bryan, smiling;"but so far as I am consarned, I don't exactly understand what you mane. I have no connection with anything, either illegal or--or--wrong in anyway, Mr. Clinton, and if any one tould you so, they spoke an untruth. "

"Ay, ay, " said Clinton, "that may be so, and I hope it is so; but youknow that it could not be expected you would admit it even if it betrue. Will you in the mean time, be guided by a friend? I respect yourfather and his family; I respect yourself, M'Mahon; and, consequently, my advice to you is--keep out of the meshes of the law--avoid violatingit--and remember you have enemies. Now think of these words, and sogood-bye, M'Mahon! Indeed, I am glad for your own sake I metyou--good-bye!"

As he uttered the last words he dashed on and left Bryan in a stateof perfect amazement at the strange and incomprehensible nature of thecommunication he had just received. Indeed, so full was his mind of thecircumstance, that forgetting all his suspicions of Fethertonge, andurged by the ingenuous impulse of an honest heart, he could not preventhimself in the surprise and agitation of the moment from detailing theconversation which he had just had with the gauger. 

"That is singular enough, " said Fethertonge--"he named Hycy Burke, then?"

"He did, sir. "

"It is singular, " proceeded the other, as if speaking to himself; "intruth, my dear M'Mahon, we were talking about you, discussing, in fact, the same subject not many minutes ago; and what you tell me now is onlyan additional proof that Clinton, who is sometimes harshly spoken of bythe way, is a straightforward, honest man. "

"What could he mane, sir?" asked Bryan, "I never had anything to docontrary to the law--I haven't now, nor do I ever intend to have--"

"Well, I'm sure I do not know, " replied the agent: "he made no illusionof that kind to me, from a generous apprehension, I dare say, lest hemight injure you in my opinion. He only desired me not rashly to listento anything prejudicial to your character; for that you had enemies whowere laboring to injure you in some way--but how--he either would nottell, or perhaps did not know. I am glad, however, he mentioned it; forI shall be guarded should I hear anything to your prejudice. "

"I tell you beforehand, sir, " said Bryan, with the conscious warmthof rectitude, "and I think I ought to know best, that if you ever hearanything against my honesty or want of principle, or if any one shouldsay that I will be consarned in what's contrary to either law orjustice, you'll hear a falsehood--I don't care who it comes from--andthe man who tells you so is a liar. "

"I should be sorry to believe otherwise, my dear Bryan; it would grieveme to be forced to believe otherwise. If you suffer yourself to be drawninto anything wrong or improper, you will be the first individualof your family that ever brought a stain upon it. It would grieveme--deeply would it grieve me, to witness such a blot upon sohonest--but no, I will not, for I cannot suppose it. "

Bryan, whose disposition was full of good-nature and cheerfulness, couldnot help bursting into a hearty laugh, on reverting to the conversationwhich he had with Clinton, and comparing it with that in which they werenow engaged; both of which were founded upon some soap-bubble charge ofwhich he knew nothing. 

"You take it lightly, " said Fethertonge, with something of a seriousexpression; "but remember, my dear Bryan, that I now speak as oneinterested in, and, in fact, representing the other members of yourfamily. Remember, at all events, you are forewarned, and, in themeantime, I thank Clinton--although I certainly would not have mentionednames. Bryan, you can have no objection that I should speak to yourfather on this subject?"

"Not the slightest, sir, " replied Bryan; "spake to any one you likeabout it; but, putting that aside, sir, for the present--about theseleases?"

"Why, what apprehension have you about them, Byran?"

"No apprehension, sir, sartinly; but you know yourself, Mr. Fethertonge, that to a man like me, that's layin' out and expendin' money every dayupon Adaharra farm, and my father the same way upon Carriglass--I say, to a man like me, to be layin' out his money, when you know yourselfthat if the present landlord should refuse to carry his father's dyingwords into effect--or, as you said this minute yourself, sir, if someenemy should turn you against me, amn't I and my father and the wholefamily liable to be put out, notwithstanding all the improvements we'vemade, and the money we've spent in makin' them?"

"Bryan, " said Fethertonge, after a pause, "every word you say isunfortunately too true--too true--and such things, are a disgrace to thecountry; indeed, I believe, they seldom occur in any country but this. Will it in the mean time satisfy you when I state that, if old Mr. Chevydale's intentions are not carried into effect by his son, I shallforthwith resign my agency?"

Bryan's conscience, generous as he was, notwithstanding his suspicions, smote him deeply on hearing this determination so unequivocallyexpressed. Indeed the whole tenor of their dialogue, taken in at oneview--especially Fethertonge's intention of speaking to Tom M'Mahon uponthe mysterious subject of Bryan's suspected delinquencies againstthe law--so thoroughly satisfied him of the injustice he had renderedFethertonge, that he was for a time silent. 

At length he replied--"That, sir, is more than we could expect; butat any rate there's one thing I'm now sartin of--that, if we'redisappointed, you won't be the cause of it. "

"Yes; but of course you must put disappointment out of the question. Thelandlord, will, without any doubt, grant the leases--I am satisfied ofthat; indeed, there can be no doubt about it. By the way, I am anxiousto see Ahadarra and to ascertain the extent to which you have carriedyour improvements. Clinton and I will probably take a ride up there someday soon; and in the meantime do you keep improving, M'Mahon, for that'sthe secret of all success--leave the rest to me. How is your father?"

"Never was better, sir, I'm thankful to you. "

"And your grandfather? how does he bear up?"

"Faith, sir, wonderfully, considering his age. "

"He must be very old now?"

"He's ninety-four, sir, and that's a long age sure enough; but I'm sorryto say that my mother's health isn't so well. "

"Why, what is the matter with her? I'm sorry to hear this. "

"Indeed we can't say; she's very poorly--her appetite is gone--she has acough, an' she doesn't get her rest at night. "

"Why don't you get medical advice?"

"So we did, sir. Dr. Sexton's attendin' her; but I don't think somehowthat he has a good opinion of her. "

"Sexton's a skilful man, and I don't think she could be in better hands;however, Bryan, I shall feel obliged if you will send down occasionallyto let me know how she gets on--once a week or so. "

"Indeed we will, sir, an' I needn't say how much we feel obliged to youfor your kindness and good wishes. "

"It must be more than good wishes, Bryan; but I trust that she willget better. In the meantime leave the other matters to me, and you mayexpect Clinton and I up at your farm to look some of these days. "

"God forgive me, " thought Bryan, as he left the hall-door, "for theinjustice I did him, by supposin' for one minute that he wasn't disposedto act fairly towards us. My father was right; an' it was foolish ofme to put my wit against his age an' experience. Oh, no, that man'shonest--there can;t be any mistake about it. "

From this topic he could not help reverting, as he pursued his wayhome, to the hints he had received with respect to Hycy Burke's enemitytowards him, the cause of which he could not clearly understand. HycyBurke had, in general, the character of being a generous, dashingyoung fellow, with no fault unless a disposition to gallantry and athoughtless inclination for extravagance; for such were the gentleterms in which habits of seduction and an unscrupulous profligacy inthe expenditure of money were clothed by those who at once fleeced anddespised him, but who were numerous enough to impress those opinionsupon a great number of the people. In turning over matters as they stoodbetween them, he could trace Burke's enemity to no adequate cause;nor indeed could he believe it possible that he entertained any suchinveterate feeling of hostility against him. They had of late frequentlymet, on which occasion Hycy spoke to him with nearly as much cordialityas ever. Still, however, he could not altogether free himself fromthe conviction, that both Clinton and Fethertonge must have hadunquestionable grounds for the hints which they had in such a friendlyway thrown out to him. 

In this mood he was proceeding when he heard the noise of horses' feetbehind, and in a few minutes Hycy himself and young Clinton overtook himat a rapid pace. Their conversation was friendly, as usual, when Bryan, on seeing Hycy about to dash off at the same rapid rate, said, "If youare not in a particular hurry, Hycy, I'd wish to have a word with you. "

The latter immediately pulled up, exclaiming, "a word, Bryan! ay, ahundred--certainly. Clinton, ride on a bit, will you? till I have someconversation with M'Mahon. Well, Bryan?"

"Hycy, " proceeded Bryan, "I always like to be aboveboard. Will you allowme to ask if you have any bad feelings against me?"

"Will you answer me another question?" replied Hycy. 

"If I can I will, " said Bryan. 

"Well, then, "'replied Hycy, "I will answer you most candidly, Bryan--notthe slightest; but I do assure you that I thought you had such a feelingagainst me. "

"And you wor right, too, " returned Bryan "for I really had. "

"I remember, " proceeded Hycy, "that when I asked you to lend methirty-five pounds--and by the way that reminds me that I am stillpretty deep in your debt--you would neither lend it nor give anysatisfactory reason why you refused me; now, what occasioned thatfeeling, Bryan?"

"It's by the merest chance that I happen to have the cause of it in mypocket, " replied M'Mahon, who, as he spoke, handed him the letter whichPeety Dhu had delivered to him from Hycy himself. "Read that, " said he, "and I think you'll have no great trouble in understanding why I feltas I did;--an' indeed, Hycy, to tell you the truth, I never had the sameopinion of you since. " Hycy, to his utter amazement, read as follows:

"My Dear Miss Cavanagh:--

"Will you permit little Cupid, the god of Love, to enrol the name ofHycy Burke on the long list of your adorers? And if you could corruptthe little stone-blind divinity to blot out every name on it but my own, I should think that a very handsome anticipation of the joys of Paradisecould be realized by that delightful fact. I say anticipation--for mycreed is, that the actual joys of Paradise exist no where, but withinthe celestial circle of your ambrosial arms. That is the Paradise whichI propose to win; and you may rest assured that I shall bring the mostflaming zeal, the most fervent devotion, and all the genuine piety ofa true worshipper, to the task of attaining it. I shall carry, forinstance, a little Bible of Love in my pocket--for I am already adivinity student or a young collegian under little Cupid aforesaid--andI will have it all dogeared with refreshing texts for my edification. I should state, however, that I am, as every good Christian is, awfullyexclusive in my creed; and will suffer no one, if I can prevent it, toapproach the Paradise I speak of but myself. In fact I am as jealous asthe very Deuce--whoever that personage may be--quite an Othello in myway--a perfect raw-head-and-bloody-bones--with a sharp appetite andteeth like a Walrus, ready to bolt my rivals in dozens. It is said, my divine creature, or rather it is hinted, that a certain clodhoppingboor, from the congenial wilds of Ahadarra, is favored by some benignantglances from those lights of yours that do mislead the moon. I hope thisis not so--bow wow!--ho! ho!--I smell the blood of a rival; and be hegreat or small, red or black, or of any color in the rainbow, Ishall have him for my. Breakfast--ho! ho! You see now, my most divineKathleen, what a terrible animal to all rivals and competitors for youraffections I shall be; and that if it were only for their own sakes, andto prevent carnage and cannibalism, it will be well for you to banishthem once and forever, and be content only with myself. 

"Seriously, my dear Kathleen, I believe I am half-crazed; and, if so, you are the sole cause of it. I can think of no other object than yourbeautiful self; and I need scarcely say, that I shall have neither peacenor happiness unless I shall be fortunate enough to gain a place in yourtender bosom. As for the Ahadarra man, I am surprised you should think ofsuch an ignorant clodhopper--a fellow whose place Providence especiallyallotted to between the stilts of a plough, and at the tail of a pairof horses. Perhaps you would be kind enough to take a walk on Thursdayevening, somewhere near the river--where I hope I shall have anopportunity of declaring my affection for you in person. At all events Ishall be there with the ardent expectation of meeting you. 

"Ever your devoted worshipper, "Hycy Burke. 

"P. S. --Beware the clodhopper--bow wow!--ho! ho!"

On looking at the back of this singular production he was thunderstruckto perceive that it was addressed to "Mr. Bryan M'Mahon, Ahadarra"--thefact being that, in the hurry of the moment, he had misdirected theletters--Bryan M'Mahon having received that which had been intended forKathleen, who, on the contrary, was pressingly solicited to lend himthirty-fine pounds in order to secure "Crazy Jane. "

Having perused this precious production, Hycy, in spite of his chagrin, was not able to control a most irresistible fit of laughter, in which heindulged for some minutes. The mistake being now discovered in Bryan'scase was necessarily discovered in that of both, a circumstance whichto Hycy, who now fully understood the mature and consequences of hisblunder, was, as we have stated, the subject of extraordinary mirth, inwhich, to tell the truth, Bryan could not prevent himself from joininghim. 

"Well, but after all, Bryan, " said he, "what is there in this letterto make you angry with me? Don't you see it's a piece of humbug frombeginning to end. "

"I do, and I did, " replied Bryan; "but at that time I had never spokenupon the subject of love or marriage to Kathleen Cavanagh, and I had noauthority nor right to take any one to task on her account, but, at thesame time, I couldn't even then either like or respect, much less lendmoney to, any man that could humbug her, or treat such a girl withdisrespect--and in that letther you can't deny that you did both. "

"I grant, " said Hycy, "that it was a piece of humbug certainly, but notintended to offend her. "

"I'm afraid there was more in it, Hycy, " observed Bryan; "an' that ifshe had been foolish or inexperienced enough to meet you or listen toyour discourse, it might a' been worse for herself. You were mistakenthere though. "

"She is not a girl to be humbugged, I grant, Bryan--very far from it, indeed; and now that you and she understand each other I will go fartherfor both your sakes, and say, that I regret having written such a letterto such an admirable young woman as she is. To tell you the truth, Bryan, I shall half envy you the possession of such a wife. "

"As to that, " replied the other, smiling, "we'll keep never minding--butyou have spoken fairly and honestly on the subject of the letther, an' I'm thankful to you; still, Hycy, you haven't answered my firstquestion--have you any ill feeling against me, or any intention toinjure me?"

"Neither one nor the other. I pledge you my honor and word I have no illfeeling against you, nor any design to injure you. "

"That's enough, Hycy, " replied his companion; "I think I'm bound tobelieve your words. "

"You are, Bryan; but will you allow me to ask if any one ever told youthat I had--and if so, who was the person?"

"It's enough for you to know, " said Bryan, "that whoever told it to me Idon't believe it. "

"I certainly have a right to know, " returned Hycy; "but as the matteris false, and every way unfounded, I'll not press you upon it--all I cansay to satisfy you is, what I have said already--that I entertain no illwill or unfriendly feeling towards you, and, consequently, can have noearthly intention of doing you an injury even if I could, although atthe present moment I don't see how, even if I was willing. "

"You have nothing particular that you'd wish to say to me?"

"No: devil a syllable. "

"Nor a proposal of any kind to make me?"

Hycy pulled up his horse. 

"Bryan, my good friend, let me look at you, " he exclaimed. "Is it rightto have you at large? My word and honor I'm beginning to fear thatthere's something wrong with your upper works. "

"Never mind, " replied Bryan, laughing, "I'm satisfied--the thing's amistake--so there's my hand to you, Hycy. I've no suspicion of the kindagainst you and it's all right. "

"What proposal, in heaven's name, could I have to make to you?"exclaimed Hycy. . 

"There now, " continued Bryan, "that'll do; didn't I say I was satisfied?Move on, now and overtake your friend--by the way he's a fine horseman, they say?"

"Very few better, " said Hycy; "but some there are--and one I know--ha!ha! ha! Good-bye, Bryan, and don't be made a fool of for nothing. "

Bryan nodded and laughed, and Hycy dashed on to overtake his friendClinton. 

M'Mahon's way home lay by Gerald Cavanagh's house, near which as heapproached he saw Nanny Peety in close conversation with Kate Hogan. Thecircumstance, knowing their relationship as he did, made no impressionwhatsoever upon him, nor would he have bestowed a thought upon it, hadhe been left to his own will in the matter. The women separated ere hehad come within three hundred yards of them; Kate, who had evidentlybeen convoying her niece a part of the way, having returned in thedirection of Cavanagh's, leaving Nanny to pursue her journey home, bywhich she necessarily met M'Mahon. 

"Well, Nanny, " said the latter, "how are you?"

"Faix, very well, I thank you, Bryan; how are all the family inCarriglass?"

"Barring my mother, they're all well, Nanny. I was glad to hear yougot so good a place, an' I'm still betther plaised to see you look sowell--for it's a proof that you feel comfortable in it. "

"Why I can't complain, " she replied; "but you know there's no one widouttheir throubles. "

"Troubles, Nanny, " said Bryan, with surprise; "why surely, Nanny, barrin' it's love, I don't see what trouble you can have. "

"Well, and may be it is, " said the girl, smiling. 

"Oh, in that case, " replied Bryan, "I grant you're to be pitied; poorthing, you look so ill and pale upon it, too. An' what is it like, Nanny--this same love that's on you?"

"Faix, " she replied, archly, "it's well for you that Miss Kathleen's notto the fore or you daren't ax any one sich a question as that. "

"Well done, Nanny, " he returned; "do you think she knows what it'slike?"

"It's not me, " she replied again, "you ought to be axin' sich a questionfrom; if you don't know it I dunna who ought. "

"Begad, you're sharp an' ready, Nanny, " replied Bryan, laughing; "well, and how are you all in honest Jemmy Burke's?"

"Some of us good, some of us bad, and some of us indifferent, but, thankgoodness, all in the best o' health. "

"Good, bad, and indifferent, " replied Bryan, pausing a little. "Well, now, Nanny, if one was to ask you who is the good in your family, whatwould you say?"

"Of coorse myself, " she returned; "an' stay--let me see--ay, themasther, honest Jemmy, he and I have the goodness between us. "

"And who's the indifferent, Nanny?"

"Wait, " she replied; "yes--no doubt of it--if not worse--why themistress must come in for that, I think. "

"And now for the bad, Nanny?"

She shook her head before she spoke. "Ah, " she proceeded, "there wouldbe more in that house on the bad list than there is, if he, had hisway. "

"If who had his way?"

"Masther Hycy. "

"Why is he the bad among you?"

"Thank God I know him now, " she replied, "an' he knows I do; but hedoesn't know how well I know him. "

"Why, Nanny, are you in airnest?" asked Bryan, a good deal surprised, and not a little interested at what he heard, "surely I thought Mr. Hycya good-hearted, generous young fellow that one could depend upon, at allevents?"

"Ah, it's little you know him, " she replied; "and I could"--she lookedat him and paused. 

"You could what?" he asked. 

"I could tell you something, but I daren't. "

"Daren't; why what ought you be afraid of?"

"It's no matther, I daren't an' thats enough; only aren't you an'Kathleen Cavanagh goin' to be married?"

"We will be married, I hope. "

"Well, then, keep a sharp look-out, an take care her father an' motherdoesn't turn against you some o' these days. There a many a slip betweenthe cup and the lip; that's all I can say, an' more than I ought; an' ifyou ever mention my name, its murdhered I'll be. "

"An' how is Hycy consarned in this? or is he consarned in it?"

"He is, an' he is not; I dursn't tell you more; but I'm not afraid ofhim, so far from that, I could soon--but what am I sayin'? Good-bye, an'as I said, keep a sharp lookout;" and having uttered these words, shetripped on hastily and left him exceedingly surprised at what she hadsaid. 

CHAPTER X. --More of the Hycy Correspondence

A Family Debate--Honest Speculations. 

Kathleen's refusal to dance, at the kemp, with Hycy Burke, drew downupon her the loud and vehement indignation of her parents, both ofwhom looked upon a matrimonial alliance with the Burkes as an objectexceedingly desirable, and such as would reflect considerable credit onthemselves. Gerald Cavanagh and his wife were certainly persons ofthe strictest integrity and virtue. Kind, charitable, overflowing withhospitality, and remarkable for the domestic virtues and affectionsin an extraordinary degree, they were, notwithstanding, extremelyweak-minded, and almost silly, in consequence of an over-weeninganxiety to procure "great matches" for their children. Indeed it may beobserved, that natural affection frequently assumes this shape in thepaternal heart, nor is the vain ambition confined to the Irish peasantalone. On the contrary, it may be seen as frequently, if not more so, inthe middle and higher classes, where it has ampler scope to work, thanin humbler and more virtuous life. It is this proud and ridiculousprinciple which consigns youth, and beauty, and innocence, to the armsof some dissipated profligate of rank, merely because he happens toinherit a title which he disgraces. There is, we would wager, scarcelyan individual who knows the world, but is acquainted with some familylaboring under this insane anxiety for connection. Sometimes it is tobe found on the paternal side, but, like most of those senselessinconsistencies which entail little else than ridicule or ruin, andsometimes both, upon those who are the object of them, it is, for themost part, a female attribute. 

Such as it is, however, our friend, Gerald Cavanagh, and his wife--who, by the way, bore the domestic sceptre in all matters of importance--bothpossessed it in all its amplitude and vigor. When the kemp had beenbroken up that night, and the family assembled, Mrs. Cavanagh opened thedebate in an oration of great heat and bitterness, but sadly deficientin moderation and logic. 

"What on earth could you mane, Kathleen, " she proceeded, "to refusedancin' wid such a young man--a gintleman I ought to say--as Hycy Burke, the son of the wealthiest man in the whole parish, barring the gentry?Where is the girl that wouldn't bounce at him?--that wouldn't lavea single card unturned to secure him? Won't he have all his father'swealth?--won't he have all his land when the ould man dies? and indeedit's he that will live in jinteel style when he gets everything intohis own hands, as he ought to do, an' not go dhramin' an' dhromin' aboutlike his ould father, without bein' sartin whether he's alive or not. He would be something for you, girl, something to turn out wid, an'that one could feel proud out of; but indeed, Kathleen, as for prideand decency, you never had as much o' them as you ought, nor do you holdyour head as high as many another girl in your place would do. Deedand throth I'm vexed at you, and ashamed of you, to go for to hurt hisfeelins as you did, widout either rhyme or raison. "

"Troth, " said her father, taking up the argument where she left it, "Idunno how I'll look the respectable young man in the face afther the wayyou insulted him. Why on airth wouldn't you dance wid him?"

"Because, father, I don't like him. "

"An' why don't you like him?" asked her mother. "Where is there hisaquil for either face or figure in the parish, or the barony itself?But I know the cause of it; you could dance with Bryan M'Mahon. Buttake this with you--sorra ring ever Bryan M'Mahon will put on you widmy consent or your father's, while there's any hope of Hycy Burke at anyrate. "

Kathleen, during this long harangue, sat smiling and sedate, turning herbeautiful and brilliant eyes sometimes upon one parent, sometimes uponanother, and occasionally glancing with imperturbable sweetness andgood nature at her sister Hanna. At length, on getting an opportunity ofspeaking, she replied, --

"Don't ask me, mother, to give anything in the way of encouragement toHycy Burke; don't ask me, I entrate you, for God's sake--the thing'simpossible, and I couldn't do it. I have no wish for his father's money, nor any wish for the poor grandeur that you, mother dear, and my father, seem to set your heart upon. I don't like Hycy Burke--I could neverlike him; and rather than marry him, I declare solemnly to God, I wouldprefer going into my grave. "

As she uttered the last words, which she did with an earnestness thatstartled them, her fine features became illuminated, as it were, witha serene and brilliant solemnity of expression that was strikinglyimpressive and beautiful. 

"Why couldn't you like him, now?" asked her father; "sure, as yourmother says, there's not his aquil for face or figure within many a mileof him?"

"But it's neither face nor figure that I look to most, father. "

"Well, but think of his wealth, and the style he'll live in, I'll gobail, when he gets married. "

"That style maybe won't make his wife happy. No, father, it's neitherface, nor figure, nor style that I look to, but truth, pure affection, and upright principle; now, I know that Hycy Burke has neither truth, nor affection, nor principle; an' I wondher, besides, that you couldthink of my ever marrying a man that has already destroyed the happinessof two innocent girls, an' brought desolation, an' sorrow, an' shameupon two happy families. Do you think that I will ever become the wifeof a profligate? An' is it you, father, an' still more you, mother, that's a woman, that can urge me to think of joining my fate to that ofa man that has neither shame nor principle? I thought that if you didn'trespect decency an' truth, and a regard for what is right and proper, that, at all events, you would respect the feelings of your child thatwas taught their value. "

Both parents felt somewhat abashed by the force of the truth and theevident superiority of her character; but in a minute or two her worthyfather, from whose dogged obstinacy she inherited the firmness andresolution for which she had ever been remarkable, again returned to thesubject. 

"If Hycy Burke was wild, Kathleen, so was many a good man before him;an' that's no raison but he may turn out well yet, an' a credit to hisname, as I have no doubt he will. All that he did was only follyan' indiscretion--we can't be too hard or uncharitable upon ourfellow-craytures. "

"No, " chimed in her mother, "we can't. Doesn't all the world know thata reformed rake makes a good husband?--an' besides, didn't them twohuzzies bring it on themselves?--why didn't they keep from him as theyought? The fault, in such cases, is never all on one side. "

Kathleen's brow and face and whole neck became crimson, as her mother, in the worst spirit of a low and degrading ambition, uttered thesentiments we have just written. Hanna had been all this time sittingbeside her, with one arm on her shoulder; but Kathleen, now turninground, laid her face on her sister's bosom, and, with a pressure thatindicated shame and bitterness of heart, she wept. Hanna returned thismelancholy and distressing caress in the same mournful spirit, and bothwept together in silence. 

Gerald Cavanagh was the first who felt something like shame at therebuke conveyed by this tearful embrace of his pure-hearted andingenuous daughters, and he said, addressing his wife:--

"We're wrong to defend him, or any one, for the evil he has done, bekaise it can't be defended; but, in the mane time, every day willbring him more sense an' experience, an' he won't repute this work;besides, a wife would settle him down. "

"But, father, " said Hanna, now speaking for the first time, "there'sone thing that strikes me in the business you're talkin' about, an' it'sthis--how do you know whether Hycy Burke has any notion, good, bad, orindifferent, of marrying Kathleen?"

"Why, " replied her mother, "didn't he write to her upon the subject?"

"Why, indeed, mother, it's not an easy thing to answer that question, "replied Hanna. "She sartinly resaved a letther from him, an' indeed, Ithink, " she added, her animated face brightening into a smile, "that asthe boys is gone to bed, we had as good read it. "

"No, Hanna, darling, don't, " said Kathleen--"I beg you won't read it. "

"Well, but I beg I will, " she replied; "it'll show them, at any rate, what kind of a reformation is likely to come over him. I have it here inmy pocket--ay, this is it. Now, father, " she proceeded, looking at theletter, "here is a letter, sent to my sister--'To Miss Cavanagh, ' that'swhat's on the back of it--and what do you think Hycy, the sportheen, asks her to do for him?"

"Why, I suppose, " replied her mother, "to run away wid him?"

"Na"

"Then to give her consent to marry him?" said her father. 

"Both out, " replied Hanna; "no, indeed, but to lend him five-and-thirtypounds to buy a mare, called Crazy Jane, belonging to Tom Burton, of theRace Road!"

"'My Dear Bryan--For heaven's sake, in addition to your othergenerosities--for-which I acknowledge myself still in your debt--willyou lend me thirty-five pounds, to secure a beautiful mare belonging toTom Burton, of the Race Road? She is a perfect creature, and will, if Iam not quick, certainly slip through my fingers. Jemmy, the gentleman'--

"This is what he calls his father, you must know. 

"'Jemmy, the gentleman, has promised to stand to me some of thesedays, and pay off all my transgressions, like a good, kind-hearted, soft-headed old Trojan as he is; and, for this reason, I don't wish topress him now. The mare is sold under peculiar circumstances; otherwiseI could have no chance of her at such a price. By the way, when did yousee Katsey'--

"Ay, Katsey!--think of that, now--doesn't he respect your daughtervery much, father?

"'By the way, when did you see Katsey Cavanagh?--'"

"What is this you're readin' to me?" asked her father. "You don't meanto say that this letter is to Kathleen?"

"Why, no; but so much the better--one has an opportunity now of seein'what he is made of. The letter was intended for Bryan M'Mahon; but hesent it, by mistake, to Kathleen. Listen---

"'When did you see Katsey Cavanagh? She certainly is not ill-looking, and will originate you famous mountaineers. Do, like a good fellow, stand by me at this pinch, and I will drink your health and Kat-sey's, and that you may--' (what's this?) 'col--colonize Ahadarra with a raceof young Colossusses that the world will wonder at. 

"'Ever thine, "'H. Burke. '

"Here's more, though: listen, mother, to your favorite, that you want tomarry Kathleen to:--

"'P. S. I will clear scores with you for all in the course of a fewmonths, and remember that, at your marriage, I must, with my own hand, give you away to Katsey, the fair Oolossa. '"

The perusal of this document, at least so far as they could understandit, astonished them not a little. Until they heard it read, both hadbeen of the opinion that Hycy had actually proposed for Kathleen, or atleast felt exceedingly anxious for the match. 

"An' does he talk about givin' her away to Bryan M'Mahon?" asked hermother. Sorrow on his impidence!--Bryan M'Mahon indeed! Throth, it's notupon his country side of wild mountain that Kathleen will go to live. An' maybe, too, she has little loss in the same Hycy, for, afther all, he's but a skite of a fellow, an' a profligate into the bargain. "

"Paix an' his father, " said Gerald--"honest Jemmy--tould me that he'dhave it a match whether or not. "

"His father did!" exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh; "now, did he say so, Gerald?"

"Well, in troth he did--said that he had I set his heart upon it, an'that if she hadn't a gown to her back he'd make him marry her. "

"The Lord direct us for the best!" exclaimed his wife, whose opinion ofthe matter at this last piece of information had again changed in favorof Hycy. "Sure, afther all, one oughtn't to be too sevare on so younga man. However, as the sayin' is, 'time will tell, ' an' Kathleen's owngood sense will show her what a match he'd be. "

The sisters then retired to bed; but before they went, Kathleenapproached her mother, and putting an open palm affectionately upon eachof the good woman's cheeks, said, in a voice in which there was deepfeeling and affection:--

"Good-night, mother dear! I'm sure you love me, an' I know it is becauseyou do that you spake in this way; but I know, too, that you wouldn'tmake me unhappy and miserable for the wealth of the world, much lessfor Hycy Burke's share of it. There's a kiss for you, andgood-night!--there's another for you, father; God bless you! andgood-night, too. Come, Hanna darling, come!"

In this state matters rested for some time. Bryan M'Mahon, however, soongot an opportunity of disclosing his intentions to Kathleen, if that canbe called disclosing, which was tolerably well known for a considerabletime previous to the disclosure. Between them it was arranged that heand his father should make a formal proposal of marriage to her parents, as the best means of bringing the matter to a speedy issue. Before thiswas done, however, Gerald, at the instigation of his wife, contrivedonce more to introduce the subject as if by accident, in a conversationwith Jemmy Burke, who repeated his anxiety for the match as the best wayof settling down his son, and added, that he would lay the matter beforeHycy himself, with a wish that a union should take place between them. This interview with old Burke proved a stumbling-block in the way ofM'Mahon. At length, after a formal proposal on the behalf of Bryan, andmany interviews with reference to it, something like a compromise waseffected. Kathleen consented to accept the latter in marriage, butfirmly and resolutely refused to hear Burke's name as a lover or suitormentioned. Her parents, however, hoping that their influence over hermight ultimately prevail, requested that she would not engage herself toany one for two years, at the expiration of which period, if no changein her sentiments should take place, she was to be at liberty to marryM'Mahon. For the remainder of the summer and autumn, and up untilNovember, the period at which our narrative has now arrived, or, inother words, when Bryan M'Mahon met Nanny Peety, matters had restedprecisely in the same position. This unexpected interview with themendicant's daughter, joined to the hints he had already received, oncemore caused M'Mahon to feel considerably perplexed with regard to HycyBurke. The coincidence was very remarkable, and the identity of theinformation, however limited, appeared to him to deserve all theconsideration which he could bestow upon it, but above all things heresolved, if possible, to extract the secret out of Nanny Peety. 

One cause of Hycy Burke's extravagance was a hospitable habit of diningand giving dinners in the head inn of Ballymacan. To ask any of hisassociates to his father's house was only to expose the ignorance of hisparents, and this his pride would not suffer him to do. As a matterof course he gave all his dinners, unless upon rare occasions, in JackShepherd's excellent inn; but as young Clinton and he were on terms ofthe most confidential intimacy, he had asked him to dine on the day inquestion at his father's. 

"You know, my dear Harry, " he said to his friend, "there is no use instriving to conceal the honest vulgarity of Jemmy the gentleman from youwho know it already. I may say ditto to madam, who is unquestionably themost vulgar of the two--for, and I am sorry to say it, in addition to asuperabundant stock of vulgarity, she has still a larger assortment ofthe prides; for instance, pride of wealth, of the purse, pride of--Iwas going to add, birth--ha! ha! ha!--of person, ay, of beauty, ifyou please--of her large possessions--but that comes under the purseagain--and lastly--but that is the only well-founded principle amongthem--of her accomplished son, Hycy. This, now, being all within yourcognizance already, my dear Hal, you take a pig's cheek and a fowl withme to-day. There will be nobody but ourselves, for when I see company athome I neither admit the gentleman nor the lady to table. Damn it, youknow the thing would be impossible. If you wish it, however, we shallprobably call in the gentleman after dinner to have a quiz with him;it may relieve us. I can promise you a glass of wine, too, and that'sanother reason why we should keep him aloof until the punch comes. Thewine's always a _sub silencio_ affair, and, may heaven pity me, I getgrowling enough from old Bruin on other subjects. "

"Anything you wish, Hycy, I am your man; but somehow I don't relish theidea of the quiz you speak of. 'Children, obey your parents, ' saysHoly Scripture; and I'd as soon not help a young fellow to laugh at hisfather. "

"A devilish good subject he is, though--but you must know that I candraw just distinctions, Hal. For instance, I respect his honesty--"

"And copy it, eh?"

"Certainly--I respect his integrity, too--in fact, I appreciate all hisgood qualities, and only laugh at his vulgarity and foibles. "

"You intend to marry, Hycy?"

"Or, in other words, to call you brother some of these days. "

"And to have sons and daughters?"

"Please the fates. "

"That will do, " replied Clinton, dryly. 

"Ho! ho!" said Hycy, "I see. Here's a mentor with a vengeance--a fellowwith a budget of morals cut and dry for immediate use--but hang allmorality, say I; like some of my friends that talk on the subject, I have an idiosyncrasy of constitution against it, but an abundanttemperament for pleasure. "

"That's a good definition, " said Clinton; "a master-touch, a verycorrect likeness, indeed. I would at once know you from it, and so wouldmost of your friends. "

"This day is Friday, " said Hycy, "more growling. "

"Why so?"

"Why, when I eat meat on a Friday, the pepper and sauce cost me nothing. The 'gentlemen' lays on hard, but the lady extenuates, 'in regard toit's bein' jinteel. '"

"Well, but you have certainly no scruple yourself on the subject?"

"Yes, I have, sir, a very strong one--in favor of the meat--ha! ha! ha!"

"D--n me, whoever christened you Hycy the accomplished, hit you off. "

"I did myself; because you must know, my worthy Hal, that, along withall my other accomplishments, I am my own priest. '

"And that is the reason why you hate the clergy? eh--ha! ha! ha!"

"A hit, a hit, I do confess. "

"Harke, Mr. Priest, will you give absolution--to Tom Corbet?"

"Ah! Hal, no more an' thou lovest me--that sore is yet open. Curse thevillain. My word and honor, Hal, the gentleman' was right there. Hetold me at the first glance what she was. Here comes a shower, let usmove on, and reach Ballymacan, if possible, before it falls. We shall behome in fair time for dinner afterwards, and then for my proposal, which, by the word and honor--"

"And morality?"

"Nonsense, Harry; is a man to speak nothing but truth or Scripture inthis world?--No--which I say by the honor of a gentleman, it will beyour interest to consider and accept. "

"Very well, most accomplished. We shall see, and we shall hear, and thenwe shall determine. "

A ham and turkey were substituted for the pig's cheek and fowl, and weneed not say that Hycy and his friend accepted of the substitution withgreat complacency. Dinner having been discussed, and a bottle of winefinished, the punch came in, and each, after making himself a stifftumbler, acknowledged that he felt comfortable. Hycy, however, anxiousthat he should make an impression, or in other words gain his point, allowed Clinton to grow a little warm with liquor before he opened thesubject to which he had alluded. At length, when he had reached theproper elevation, he began:--

"There's no man, my dear Harry, speaks apparently more nonsense than Ido in ordinary chat and conversation. For instance, to-day I was verysuccessful in it; but no matter, I hate seriousness, certainly, whenthere is no necessity for it. However, as a set-off to that, I pledgeyou my honor that no man can be more serious when it is necessary thanmyself. For instance, you let out a matter to me the other night thatyou probably forget now. You needn't stare--I am serious enough andhonorable enough to keep as an inviolable secret everything of the kindthat a man may happen to disclose in an unguarded moment. "

"Go on, Hycy, I don't forget it--I don't, upon my soul. "

"I allude to M'Mahon's farm in Ahadarra. "

"I don't forget it; but you know, Hycy, my boy, I didn't mention eitherM'Mahon or Ahadarra. "

"You certainly did not mention them exactly; but, do you think I didnot know at once both the place and the party you allude to? My word andhonor, I saw them at a glance. "

"Very well, go on with your word and honor;--you are right, I did meanM'Mahon and Ahadarra--proceed, most accomplished, and most moral--"

"Be quiet, Harry. Well, you have your eye upon that farm, and you sayyou have a promise of it. "

"Something like it; but the d--d landlord, Chevydale, isimpracticable--so my uncle says--and doesn't wish to disturb theM'Mahons, although he has been shown that it is his interest to doso--but d--n the fellow, neither he nor one of his family ever look totheir interests--d--n the fellow, I say. "

"Don't curse or swear, most moral. Well, the lease of Ahadarra hasdropped, and of Carriglass too;--with Carriglass, however, we--that isyou--have nothing at all to do. "

"Proceed?'

"Now, I have already told you my affection for your sister, and I havenot been able to get either yes or no out of you. "

"No. "

"What do you mean?"

"That you have not been able to get yes or no out of me--proceed, mostaccomplished. Where do you get your brandy? This is glorious. Well!"

"Now, as you have a scruple against taking the farm in any but a decentway, if I undertake to manage matters so as that Bryan M'Mahon shallbe obliged to give up his farm, will you support my suit with MissClinton?"

"How will you do it?"

"That is what you shall not know; but the means are amply within mypower. You know my circumstances, and that I shall inherit all myfather's property. "

"Come; I shall hold myself neuter--will that satisfy you? You shallhave a clear stage and no favor, which, if you be a man of spirit, isenough. "

"Yes; but it is likely I may require your advocacy with Uncle; and, besides, I know the advantage of having an absent friend well andfavorably spoken of, and all his good points brought out. "

"Crazy Jane and Tom Burton, to wit; proceed, most ingenuous!"

"Curse them both! Will you promise this--to support me so far?"

"Egad, Hycy, that's a devilish pretty girl that attends us with the hotwater, and that waited on us at dinner--eh?"

"Come, come, Master Harry, 'ware spring-guns there; keep quiet. Youdon't answer?"

"But, worthy Hycy, what if Maria should reject you--discard you--giveyou to the winds?--eh?"

"Even in that case, provided you support me honestly, I shall holdmyself bound to keep my engagement with you, and put M'Mahon out as abeggar. "

"What! as a beggar?"

"Ay, as a beggar; and then no blame could possibly attach to you forsucceeding him, and certainly no suspicion. "

"Hum! as a beggar. But the poor fellow never offended me. Confound it, he never offended me, nor any one else as far as I know. I don't muchrelish that, Hycy. "

"It cannot be done though in any other way. "

"I say--how do you call that girl?--Jenny, or Peggy, or Molly, or what?"

"I wish to heaven you could be serious, Harry. If not, I shall drop thesubject altogether. "

"There now--proceed, O Hyacinthus. "

"How can I proceed, when you won't pay attention to me; or, what ismore, to your own interests?"

"Oh! my own interests!--well I am alive to them. "

"Is it a bargain, then?"

"It is a bargain, most ingenuous, most subtle, and most conscientiousHycy! Enable me to enter upon the farm of Ahadarra--to get possession ofit--and calculate upon my most--let me see--what's the best word--moststrenuous advocacy. That's it: there's my hand upon it. I shall supportyou, Hycy; but, at the same time, you must not hold me accountable formy sister's conduct. Beyond fair and reasonable persuasion, she must beleft perfectly free and uncontrolled in whatever decision she may cometo. "

"There's my hand, then, Harry; I can ask no more. "

After Clinton had gone, Hycy felt considerably puzzled as to the mannerin which he had conducted himself during the whole evening. Sometimes heimagined he was under the influence of liquor, for he had drunk prettyfreely; and again it struck him that he manifested an indifference tothe proposal made to him, which he only attempted to conceal lest Hycymight perceive it. He thought, however, that he observed a seriousnessin Clinton, towards the close of their conversation, which could nothave been assumed; and as he gave himself a good deal of credit forpenetration, he felt satisfied that circumstances were in a propertrain, and likely, by a little management, to work out his purposes. 

Hycy, having bade him good night at the hall-door, returned again to theparlor, and called Nanny Peety--"Nanny, " said he, "which of the Hogansdid you see to-day?"

"None o' them, sir, barrin' Kate: they wor all out. "

"Did you give her the message?"

"Why, sir, if it can be called a message, I did. "

"What did you say, now?"

"Why, I tould her to tell whichever o' them she happened to see first, that St. Pether was dead. "

"And what did she say to that?"

"Why, sir, she said it would be a good story for you if he was. "

"And what did she mean by that, do you think?"

"Faix, then, I dunna--barrin' that you're in the black books wid him, and that you'd have a better chance of gettin' in undher a stranger thatdidn't know you. "

"Nanny, " he replied, laughing, "you are certainly a very smart girl, and indeed a very pretty girl--a very interesting young woman, indeed, Nanny; but you won't listen to reason. "

"To raison, sir, I'll always listen; but not to wickedness or evil. "

"Will you have a glass of punch? I hope there is neither wickedness norevil in that. "

"I'm afraid, sir, that girls like me have often found to their cost toomuch of both in it. Thank you, Masther Hycy, but I won't have it; youknow I won't. "

"So you will stand in your own light, Nanny?"

"I hope not, sir; and, wanst for all, Mr. Hycy, there's no use inspakin' to me as you do. I'm a poor humble girl, an' has nothing but mycharacter to look to. "

"And is that all you're afraid of, Nanny?"

"I'm afear'd of Almighty God, sir: an' if you had a little fear of Him, too, Mr. Hycy, you wouldn't spake to me as you do. "

"Why, Nanny, you're almost a saint on our hands. "

"I'm glad to hear it, sir, for the sinners is plenty enough. "

"Very good, Nanny; well said. Here's half a crown to reward your wit. "

"No, no, Mr. Hycy: I'm thankful to you; but you know I won't take it. "

"Nanny, are you aware that it was I who caused you to be taken into thisfamily?"

"No, " sir; "but I think it's very likely you'll be the cause of my goingout of it. "

"It certainly is not improbable, Nanny. I will have no self-willed, impracticable girls here. "

"You won't have me here long, then, unless you mend your manners, Mr. Hycy. "

"Well, well, Nanny; let us not quarrel at all events. I will be late outto-night, so that you must sit up and let me in. No, no, Nanny, we mustnot quarrel; and if I have got fond of you, how can I help it? It's verynatural thing, you know, to love a pretty girl. "

"But not so natural to lave her, Mr. Hycy, as you have left othersbefore now--I needn't name them--widout name, or fame, or hope, orhappiness in this world. "

"I won't be in until late, Nanny, " he replied, coolly. "Sit up for me. You're a sharp one, but I can't spare you yet a while;" and, havingnodded to her with a remarkably benign aspect he went out. 

"Ay, " said she, after he had gone; "little you know, you hardened andheartless profligate, how well I'm up to your schemes. Little you knowthat I heard your bargain this evenin' wid Clinton, and that you're nowgone to meet the Hogans and Teddy Phats upon some dark business, thatcan't be good or they wouldn't be in it; an' little you know what I knowbesides. Anybody the misthress plaises may sit up for you, but I won't. "

CHAPTEE XI. --Death of a Virtuous Mother. 

It could not be expected that Bryan M'Mahon, on his way home fromFethertonge's, would pass Gerald Cavanagh's without calling. He had, in his interview with that gentleman, stated the nature of his mother'sillness, but at the same time without feeling any serious apprehensionsthat her life was in immediate danger. On reaching Cavanagh's, he foundthat family over-+shadowed with a gloom for which he could not account. Kathleen received him gravely, and even Hanna had not her accustomedjest. After looking around him for a little, he exclaimed--"What is thematther? Is anything wrong? You all look as if you were in sorrow. "

Hanna approached him and said, whilst her eyes filled with tears--"Weare in sorrow, Bryan; for we are goin', we doubt, to lose a friend thatwe all love--as every one did that knew her. "

"Hanna, darling, " said Kathleen, "this won't do. Poor girl! you arelikely to make bad worse; and besides there may, after all, be no realdanger. Your mother, Bryan, " she proceeded, "is much worse than she hasbeen. The priest and doctor have been sent for; but you know it doesn'tfollow that there is danger, or at any rate that the case is hopeless. "

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Bryan, "is it so? My mother--and such a mother!Kathleen, my heart this minute tells me it is hopeless. I must leaveyou--I must go. "

"We will go up with you, " said Kathleen. "Hanna, we will go up; for, if she is in danger, I would like to get the blessing of such a womanbefore she dies; but let us trust in G-od she won't die, and that it'sonly a sudden attack that will pass away. "

"Do so, Kathleen, " said her mother; "and you can fetch us word how sheis. May the Lord bring her safe over it at any rate; for surely thefamily will break their hearts afther her, an' no wondher, for where washer fellow?"

Bryan was not capable of hearing these praises, which he knew to beso well and so justly her due, with firmness; nor could he prevent histears, unless by a great effort, from bearing testimony to the depthof his grief. Kathleen's gaze, however, was turned on him with anexpression which gave him strength; for indeed there was something nobleand. Sustaining in the earnest and consoling sympathy which he read inher dark and glorious eye. On their way to Carriglass there was littlespoken. Bryan's eye every now and then sought that of Kathleen; andhe learned, for the first time, that it is only in affliction that theexquisite tenderness of true and disinterested love can be properlyappreciated and felt. Indeed he wondered at his own sensations; forin proportion as his heart became alarmed at the contemplation of hismother's loss, he felt, whenever he looked upon Kathleen, that it alsoburned towards her with greater tenderness and power--so true is itthat sorrow and suffering purify and exalt all our nobler and betteremotions. 

Bryan and his companions, ere they had time to reach the house, wereseen and. Recognized by the family, who, from the restlessness anduncertainty which illness usually occasions, kept moving about andrunning out from time to time to watch the arrival of the priest ordoctor. On this occasion Dora came to meet them; but, alas! with whata different spirit from that which animated her on the return of herfather from the metropolis. Her gait was now slow, her step languid;and they could perceive that, as she approached them, she wiped away thetears. Indeed her whole appearance was indicative of the state ofher mother; when they met her, her bitter sobbing and the sorrowfulearnestness of manner with which she embraced the sisters, woremelancholy assurances that the condition of the sufferer was notimproved. Hanna joined her tears with hers; but Kathleen, whose sweetvoice in attempting to give the affectionate girl consolation, was morethan once almost shaken out of its firmness, did all she could to sootheand relieve her. 

On entering the house, they found a number of the neighboring femalesassembled, and indeed the whole family, in consequence of the alarmand agitation visible them, might not inaptly be compared to a brood ofdomestic fowl when a hawk, bent on destruction, is seen hovering overtheir heads. 

As is usual with Catholic families in their state of life, there wereseveral of those assembled, and also some of themselves, at joint prayerin different parts of the house; and seated by her bedside was heryoungest son, Art, engaged, with sobbing voice and eyes every now andthen blinded with tears, in the perusal, for her comfort, of Prayers forthe Sick. Tom M'Mahon himself went about every now and then claspinghis hands, and turning up his eyes to heaven in a distracted manner, exclaiming--"Oh! Bridget, Bridget, is it come to this at last! Andyou're lavin' me--you're lavin' me! Oh, my God! what will I do--how willI live, an' what will become of me!"

On seeing Bryan, he ran to him and said, --"Oh! Bryan, to what point willI turn?--where will I get consolation?--how will I bear it? Sure, she was like a blessin' from heaven among us; ever full of peace, andcharity, and goodness--the kind word an' the sweet smile to all; but tome--to me--oh! Bridget, Bridget, I'd rather die than live afther you!"

"Father, dear, your takin' it too much to heart, " replied Bryan; "whoknows but God may spare her to us still? But you know that even if it'sHis will to remove her from amongst us"--his voice here failed him for amoment--"hem--to remove her from amongst us, it's our duty to submitto it; but I hope in God she may recover still. Don't give way to sichgrief till we hear what the docthor will say, at all events. How did shecomplain or get ill; for I think she wasn't worse when I left home?"

"It's all in her stomach, " replied his father. "She was seized widcramps in her stomach, an' she complains very much of her head; but herwhole strength is gone, she can hardly spake, and she has death in herface. "

At this moment his brother Michael came to them, andsaid--"Bryan--Bryan"--but he could proceed no farther. 

"Whisht, Michael, " said the other; "this is a shame; instead ofsupportin' and cheer-in' my father, you're only doing him harm. I tellyou all that you'll find there's no raison for this great grief. Be aman, Michael--"

"She has heard your voice, " proceeded his brother, "and wishes to seeyou. "

This proof of her affection for him, at the very moment when he wasattempting to console others, was almost more than he could bear. Bryan knew that he himself had been her favorite son, so far as a heartoverflowing with kindness and all the tender emotions that consecratedomestic life and make up its happiness, could be said to have afavorite. There was, however, that almost imperceptible partiality, which rarely made its appearance unless in some slight andinconsiderable circumstances, but which, for that very reason, wasvaluable in proportion to its delicacy and the caution with which itwas guarded. Always indeed in some quiet and inoffensive shape was thepartiality she bore him observable; and sometimes it consisted in apostponement of his wishes or comforts to those of her other children, because she felt that she might do with him that which she could notwith the others--thus calculating as it were upon his greater affection. But it is wonderful to reflect in how many ways, and through whatingenious devices the human heart can exhibit its tenderness. 

Arthur, as Bryan entered, had concluded the devotions he had beenreading for her, and relinquished to him the chair he had occupied. Onapproaching, he was at once struck by the awful change for the worse, which so very brief a period had impressed upon her features. On leavinghome that morning she appeared to be comparatively strong, and notfurther diminished in flesh than a short uneasy ailment might naturallyoccasion. But now her face, pallid and absolutely emaciated, had shrunkinto half its size, and was, beyond all possibility of hope or doubt, stamped with the unequivocal impress of death. 

Bryan, in a state which it is impossible to describe and very difficultto conceive, took her hand, and after a short glance at her features, now so full of ghastliness and the debility which had struck her down, he stooped, and, kissing her lips, burst out into wild and irrepressiblesorrow. 

"Bryan, dear, " she said, after a pause, and when his grief had somewhatsubsided, "why will you give way to this? Sure it was on you I placedmy dependence--I hoped that, instead of settin' the rest an example forweakness, you'd set them one that they might and ought to follow--I sentfor you, Bryan, to make it my request that, if it's the will of God totake me from among you, you might support an' console the others, an'especially your poor father; for I needn't tell you that along wid thepain I'm bearin', my heart is sore and full o sorrow for what Iknow he'll suffer when I'm gone. May the Lord pity and give himstrength!--for I can say on my dyin' bed that, from the first day Iever seen his face until now, he never gave me a harsh word or an unkindlook, an' that you all know. "

"Oh how could he, mother dear? how could any one give you that? Whowas it that ever knew you could trate you with anything but respect andaffection?"

"I hope I always struv to do my duty, Bryan, towards God an' mychildre', and my fellow-creatures; an' for that raison I'm notfrightened at death. An', Bryan, listen to the words of your dyin'mother--"

"Oh, don't say that yet, mother, " replied her son, sobbing; "don't sayso yet; who knows but God will spare your life, an' that you may be manyyears with us still; they're all alarmed too much, I hope; but it's nowondher we should, mother dear, when there's any appearance at all ofdanger about you. "

"Well, whether or not, Bryan, the advice I'm goin' to give you isnever out o' saison. Live always with the fear of God in your heart;do nothing that you think will displease Him; love yourfellow-creatures--serve them and relieve their wants an' distresses asfar as you're able; be like your own father--kind and good to all aboutyou, not neglectin' your religious duties. Do this, Bryan, an' then whenthe hour o' death comes, you'll feel a comfort an' happiness in yourheart that neither the world nor anything in it can give you. You'llfeel the peace of God there, an' you will die happy--happy. "

Her spirit, animated by the purity and religious truth of this simplebut beautiful morality, kindled into pious fervor as she proceeded, so much so indeed, that on turning her eyes towards heaven, whilst sheuttered the last words, they sparkled with the mild and serene light ofthat simple but unconscious enthusiasm on behalf of all goodness whichhad characterized her whole life, and which indeed is a living principleamong thousands of her humble countrywomen. 

"This, dear Bryan, is the advice I gave to them all; it an' my love isthe only legacy I have to lave them. An' my darlin' Dora, Bryan--oh, ifyou be kind and tendher to any one o' them beyant another, be so toher. My darlin'Dora! Oh! her heart's all affection, an' kindness, an'generosity. But indeed, as I said, Bryan, the task must fall to you tostrengthen and console every one o' them. Ay!--an' you must begin now. You wor ever, ever, a good son; an' may God keep you in the right faith, an' may my blessin' an' His be wid you for ever! Amin. "

There was a solemn and sustaining spirit in her words which strengthenedBryan, who, besides, felt anxious to accomplish to the utmost extent theaffectionate purpose which had caused her to send for him. 

"It's a hard task, mother darlin, " he replied; "but I'll endeavor, withGod's help, to let them see that I haven't been your son for nothing;but you don't know, mother, that Kathleen's here, an' Hanna. They wishto see you, an' to get your blessin'. "

"Bring them in, " she replied, "an' let Dora come wid them, an' stayyourself, Bryan, becaise I'm but weak, an' I don't wish that they shouldstay too long. God sees its not for want of love for the other girlsthat I don't bid you bring them in, but that I don't wish to see themsufferin' too much sorrow; but my darlin' Dora will expect to be whereKathleen is, an' my own eyes likes to look upon her, an' upon Kathleen, too, Bryan, for I feel my heart bound to her as if she was one ofourselves, as I hope she will be. "

"Oh, bless her! bless her! mother, " he said, with difficulty, "an' tellher them words--say them to herself. I'll go now and bring them in. "

He paused, however, for a minute or two, in order to compose his voiceand features, that he might not seem to set them an example of weakness, after which he left the apartment with an appearance of greatercomposure than he really felt. 

In a few minutes the four returned: Bryan, with Kathleen's hand lockedin his, and Hanna, with her arm affectionately wreathed about Dora'sneck, as if the good-hearted girl felt anxious to cherish and comforther under the heavy calamity to which she was about to be exposed, forDora wept bitterly. Mrs. M'Mahon signed to Hanna to approach, who, withher characteristic ardor of feeling, now burst into tears herself, andstooping down kissed her and wept aloud, whilst Dora's grief also burstout afresh. 

The sick woman looked at Bryan, as if to solicit his interference, andthe look was immediately understood by Kathleen as well as by himself. 

"This is very wrong of you, Hanna, " said her sister; "out of affectionand pity to them, you ought to endeavor to act otherwise. They haveenough, an' to much, to feel, without your setting them example; and, Dora dear, I thought you had more courage than you have. All this isonly grieving and disturbing your mother; an' I hope that, for her sake, you'll both avoid it. I know it's hard to do so, but it's the difficultyand the trial that calls upon us to have strength, otherwise what arewe better than them that we'd condemn or think little of for their ownweakness. "

The truth and moral force of the words, and the firmness of manner thatmarked Kathleen as she spoke, were immediately successful. The griefof the two girls was at once hushed; and, after a slight pause, Mrs. M'Mahon called Kathleen to her. 

"Dear Kathleen, " she said, "I did hope to see the day when you'd beone of my own family, but it's not the will of God, it appears, that Ishould; however, may His will be done! I hope still that day willcome, an' that your friends won't have any longer an objection to yourmarriage wid Bryan. I am his mother, an' no one has a better right toknow his heart an' his temper, an' I can say, upon my dyin' bed, that abetter heart an' a better temper never was in man. I believe, Kathleen, it was never known that a good son ever made a bad husband. However, if it's God's will to bring you together, He will, and if it isn't, youmust only bear it patiently. "

Bryan was silent, but his eye, from time to time, turned with a longglance of love and sorrow upon Kathleen, whose complexion became paleand red by turns. At length Dora, after her mother had concluded, wentover to Kathleen, and putting her arms around her neck, exclaimed, "Oh!mother dear, something tells me that Kathleen will be my sisther yet, an' if you'd ask her to promise--"

Kathleen looked down upon the beautiful and expressive features of theaffectionate girl, and gently raising her hand she placed it upon Dora'slips, in order to prevent the completion of the sentence. On doing soshe received a sorrowful glance of deep and imploring entreaty fromBryan, which she returned with another that seemed to reprove him fordoubting her affection, or supposing that such a promise was evennecessary. "No, Dora dear, " she said, "I could make no promise withoutthe knowledge of my father and mother, or contrary to their wishes; butdid you think, darling, that such a thing was necessary?" She kissed thesweet girl as she spoke, and Dora felt a tear on her cheek that was nother own. 

Mrs. M'Mahon had been looking with a kind of mournful admiration uponKathleen during this little incident, and then proceeded. "She says whatis right and true; and it would be wrong, my poor child, to ask her togive such a promise. Bryan, thry an' be worthy of that girl--oh, do! an'if you ever get her, you'll have raison to thank God for one of the bestgifts He ever gave to man. Hanna, come here--come to me--let me put myhand upon your head. May my blessin' and God's blessin' rest upon youfor ever more. There now, be stout, acushla machree. " Hanna kissed heragain, but her grief was silent; and Dora, fearing she might not be ableto restrain it, took her away. 

"Now, " proceeded the dying woman, "come to me, you Kathleen, mydaughter--sure you're the daughter of my heart, as it is. Kneel down andstay with me awhile. Why does my heart warm to you as it never did toany one out o' my own family? Why do I love you as if you were my ownchild? Because I hope you will be so. Kiss me, asthore machree. "

Kathleen kissed her, and for a few moments Mrs. M'Mahon felt a showerof warm tears upon her face, accompanied by a gentle and caressingpressure, that seemed to corroborate and return the hope she had justexpressed. Kathleen hastily wiped away her tears, however, and once moreresuming her firmness, awaited the expected blessing. 

"Now, Kathleen dear, for fear any one might say that at my dyin' hour, I endeavored to take any unfair advantage of your feelings for my son, listen to me--love him as you may, and as I know you do. "

"Why should I deny it?" said Kathleen, "I do love him. "

"I know, darlin', you do, but for all that, go not agin the will andwishes of your parents and friends; that's my last advice to you. "

She then placed her hand upon her head, and in words breathing of pietyand affection, she invoked many a blessing upon her, and upon any thatwas clear to her in life, after which both Bryan and Kathleen left herto the rest which she now required so much. 

The last hour had been an interval from pain with Mrs. M'Mahon. Inthe course of the day both the priest and the doctor arrived, and sheappeared somewhat better. The doctor, however, prepared them for theworst, and in confirmation of his opinion, the spasms returned withdreadful violence, and in the lapse of two hours after his visit, this pious and virtuous woman, after suffering unexampled agony with apatience and fortitude that could not be surpassed, expired in the midstof her afflicted family. 

It often happens in domestic life, that in cases where long andundisturbed affection is for the first time deprived of its object bydeath, there supervenes upon the sorrow of many, a feeling of awfulsympathy with that individual whose love for the object has been, thegreatest, and whose loss is of course the most irreparable. So was itwith the M'Mahons. Thomas M'Mahon himself could not bear to witness thesufferings of his wife, nor to hear her moans. He accordingly left thehouse, and walked about the garden and farm-yard, in a state littleshort of actual distraction. When the last scene was over, and heractual sufferings closed for ever, the outrage of grief among hischildren became almost hushed from a dread of witnessing the sufferingsof their father; and for the time a great portion of their own sorrowwas merged in what they felt for him. Nor was this feeling confinedto themselves. His neighbors and acquaintances, on hearing of Mrs. M'Mahon's death, almost all exclaimed:--

"Oh, what will become of him? they are nothing an will forget her soon, as is natural, well as they loved her; but poor Tom, oh! what on earthwill become of him?" Every eye, however, now turned toward Bryan, whowas the only one of the family possessed of courage enough to undertakethe task of breaking the heart-rending intelligence to their bereavedfather. 

"It must be done, " he said, "and the sooner it's done the better; whatwould I give to have my darlin' Kathleen here. Her eye and her advicewould give me the strength that I stand so much in need of. My God, howwill I meet him, or break the sorrowful tidings to him at all! The Lordsupport me!"

"Ah, but Bryan, " said they, "you know he looks up to whatever you say, and how much he is advised by you, if there happens to be a doubt aboutanything. Except her that's gone, there was no one--"

Bryan raised his hand with an expression of resolution and somethinglike despair, in order as well as he could to intimate to them, that hewished to hear no allusion made to her whom they had lost, or that hemust become incapacitated to perform the task he had to encounter, andtaking his hat he proceeded to find his father, whom he met behind thegarden. 

It may be observed of deep grief, that whenever it is excited by theloss of what is good and virtuous, it is never a solitary passion, wemean within the circle of domestic life. So far from that, there is nota kindred affection under the influence of a virtuous heart, that is notstimulated, and strengthened by its emotions. How often, for instance, have two members of the same family rushed into each other's arms, whenstruck by a common sense of the loss of some individual that was dear toboth, because it was felt that the very fact of loving the same objecthad now made them dear to each other. 

The father, on seeing Bryan approach, stood for a few moments and lookedat him eagerly; he then approached him with a hasty and unsettled step, and said, "Bryan, Bryan, I see it in your face, she has left us, she hasleft us, she has left us all, an' she has left me; an' how am I to livewithout her? answer me that; an then give me consolation if you can. "

He threw himself on his son's neck, and by a melancholy ingenuityattempted to seduce him as it were from the firmness which he appearedto preserve in the discharge of this sorrowful task, with a hope that hemight countenance him in the excess of his grief--"Oh, " he added, "I'vehave lost her, Bryan--you and I, the two that she--that--she--Your wordwas everything to her, a law to her; and she was so proud out of you--Ian' her eye would rest upon you smilin', as much as to say--there's myson, haven't I a right to feel proud of him, for he has never once vexedhis mother's heart? nayther did you, Bryan, nayther did you, but now whowill praise you as she did? who will boast of you behind your back, forshe seldom did it to your face; and now that smile of love and kindnesswill never be on her blessed lips more. Sure you won't blame me, Bryan--oh, sure above all men livin', you won't blame me for feelin' herloss as I do. "

The associations excited by the language of his father were such asBryan was by no means prepared to meet. Still he concentrated allhis moral power and resolution in order to accomplish the task he hadundertaken, which, indeed, was not so much to announce his mother'sdeath, as to support his father under it. After a, violent effort, he atlength said:--

"Are you sorry, father, because God has taken my mother to Himself?Would you wish to have her here, in pain and suffering? Do you grudgeher heaven? Father, you were always a brave and strong, fearless man, but what are you now? Is this the example you are settin' to us, whoought to look up to you for support? Don't you know my mother's inheaven? Why, one would think you're sorry for it? Come, come, father, set your childre' an example now when they want it, that they can lookup to--be a man, and don't forget that she's in God's Glory, Come innow, and comfort the rest. "

"Ay, but when I think of what she was, Bryan; of what she was to me, Bryan, from the first day I ever called her my wife, ay, and before it, when she could get better matches, when she struggled, and waited, andfought for me, against all opposition, till her father an' mother sawher heart was fixed upon me; hould your tongue, Bryan, I'll have no one'to stop my grief for her, where is she? where's my wife, I tell you?where's Bridget M'Mahon?--Bridget, where are you? have you left me, gonefrom me, an' must I live here widout you? must I rise in the mornin, 'and neither see you nor hear you? or must I live here by myself an'never have your opinion nor advice to ask upon anything as I used todo--Bridget M'Mahon, why did you leave me? where are you from me?"

"Here's Dora, " said a sweet but broken voice; "here's Dora M'Mahon--yourown Dora, too--and that you love bekaise I was like her. Oh, come withme, father, darlin'. For her sake, compose yourself and come with me. Oh, what are we to feel! wasn't she our mother? Wasn't she?--wasn't she?What am I sayin'? Ay, but, now--we have no mother, now!"

M'Mahon still leaned upon his son's neck, but on hearing his favoritedaughter's voice, he put his arm round to where she stood, andclasping her in, brought her close to him and Bryan, so that the threeindividuals formed one sorrowing group together. 

"Father, " repeated Dora, "come with me for my mother's sake. "

He started. "What's that you say, Dora? For your mother's sake? I will, darlin'--for her sake, I will. Ay, that's the way to manage me--for hersake. Oh, what wouldn't I do for her sake? Come, then, God bless you, darlin', for puttin' that into my head. You may make me do anything now, Dora, jewel--if you just ax it for her sake. Oh, my God! an is itcome to this? An' am I talkin' this way?--but--well, for her sake, darlin'--for her sake. Come, I'll go in--but--but--oh, Bryan, how canI?"

"You know father, " replied Bryan, who now held his arm, "we must alldie, and it will be well for us if we can die as she died. Didn't fatherPeter say that if ever the light of heaven was in a human heart, it wasin hers?"

"Ay, but when I go in an' look upon her, an' call Bridget, she won'tanswer me. "

"Father dear, you are takin' it too much to heart. "

"Well, it'll be the first time she ever refused to answer me--the firsttime that ever her lips will be silent when I spake to her. "

"But, father, " said the sweet girl at his side, "think of me. Sure I'llbe your Dora more than ever, now. You know what you promised me thisminute. Oh, for her sake, and for God's sake, then, don't take it somuch to heart. It was my grandfather sent me to you, an' he says hewant's to see you, an' to spake to you. "

"Oh!" he exclaimed, "My poor father, an' he won't be long afther her. But this is the way wid all, Bryan--the way o' the world itself. We mustgo. I didn't care, now, how soon I followed her. Oh, no, no. "

"Don't say so, father; think of the family you have; think of how youlove them, and how they love you, father dear. Don't give way so much tothis sorrow. I know it's hard to bid you not to do it; but you know wemust strive to overcome ourselves. I hope there's happy days and yearsbefore us still. We'll have our leases soon, you know, an' then we'llfeel firm and comfortable: an' you know you'll be--we'll all be nearwhere she sleeps. "

"Where she sleeps. Well, there's comfort in that, Bryan--there's comfortin that. "

The old man, though very feeble, on seeing him approach, rose up and methim. "Tom, " said he, "be a man, and don't shame my white hairs nor yourown. I lost your mother, an' I was as fond of her, an' had as good aright, too, as ever you were of her that's now an angel in heaven; butif I lost her, I bore it as a man ought. I never yet bid you do a thingthat you didn't do, but I now bid you stop cryin', an don't fly in theface o' God as you're doin'. You respect my white hairs, an' God willhelp you as he has done!"

The venerable appearance of the old man, the melancholy but tremulousearnestness with which he spoke, and the placid spirit of submissionwhich touched his whole bearing with the light of an inward pietythat no age could dim or overshadow, all combined to work a salutaryinfluence upon M'Mahon. He evidently made a great effort at composure, nor without success. His grief became calm; he paid attention to othermatters, and by the aid of Bryan, and from an anxiety lest he shoulddisturb or offend his father by any further excess of sorrow, he wasenabled to preserve a greater degree of composure than might have beenexpected. 

CHAPTER XII. --Hycy Concerts a Plot and is urged to Marry. 

The Hogans, who seldom missed a Wake, Dance, Cockfight or any otherplace of amusement or tumult, were not present, we need scarcely assureour readers, at the wake-house of Mrs. M'Mahon. On that night they andTeddy Phats were all sitting in their usual domicile, the kiln, alreadymentioned, expecting Hycy, when the following brief dialogue took place, previous to his appearance:

"What keeps this lad, Hycy?" said Bat; "an' a complate lad is in hiscoat, when he has it on him. Troth I have my doubts whether this samegentleman is to be depended on. "

"Gentleman, indeed, " exclaimed Philip, "nothing short of that will sarvehim, shure. To be depinded on, Bat! Why, thin, its more than I'd like tosay. Howanever, he's as far in, an' farther than we are. "

"There's no use in our quarrelin' wid him, " said Phats, in his naturalmanner. "If he's in our power, we're in his; an' you know he couldsoon make the counthry too hot to hold us. Along wid all, too, he's asrevengeful as the dioule himself, if not a thrifle more so. "

"If he an' Kathleen gets bothered together, " said Philip, "'twould be agood look up for us, at any rate. "

Kate Hogan was the only female present, the truth being that Philip andNed were both widowers, owing, it was generally believed, to the brutaltreatment which their unfortunate wives received at their hands. 

"Don't quarrel wid him, " said she, "if you can, at any rate, till we gethim more in our power, an' that he'll be soon, maybe. If we fall outwid him, we'd have to lave the place, an' maybe to go farther than weintend, too. Wherever we went over the province, this you know was ourheadquarters. Here's where all belongin' to us--I mane that ever died anatural death, or drew their last breath in the counthry--rests, an' I'dnot like to go far from it. "

"Let what will happen, " said Philip, with an oath, "I'd lose my rightarm before Bryan M'Mahon puts a ring on Kathleen. "

"I can tell you that Hycy has no notion of marry in' her, thin, " saidKate. 

"How do you know that?" asked her husband. 

"I've a little bird that tells me, " she replied. 

"Gerald Cavanagh an' his wife doesn't think so, " said Philip. "They andJemmy Burke has the match nearly made. "

"They may make the match, " said Kate, "but it's more than they'll beable to do to make the marriage. Hycy's at greater game, I tell you; butwhether he is or not, I tell you again that Bryan M'Mahon will have herin spite of all opposition. "

"May be not, " said Phats; "Hycy will take care o' that; he has him set;he'll work him a charm; he'll take care that Bryan won't be long in afit way to offer himself as a match for her. "

"More power to him in that, " said Philip; "if he makes a beggarman ofhim he may depend on us to the back-bone. "

"Have no hand in injurin' Bryan M'Mahon, " said Kate. "Keep him frommarryin' Kathleen if you like, or if you can; but, if you're wise, don'tinjure the boy. "

"Why so?" asked Philip. 

"That's nothing to you, " she replied; "for a raison I have; and mark me, I warn you not to do so or it'll be worse for you. "

"Why, who are we afraid of, barrin Hycy himself?"

"It's no matther; there's them livin' could make you afeard, an' maybewill, too, if you injure that boy. "

"I'd just knock him on the head, " replied the ferocious ruffian, "assoon as I would a mad dog. "

"Whisht, " said Phats, "here's Hycy; don't you hear his foot?"

Hycy entered in a few moments afterwards, and, after the usualgreetings, sat down by the fire. 

"De night's could, " said Phats, resuming his brogue; "but here, " headded, pulling out a bottle of whiskey, "is something to warm de bloodin us. Will you thry it, Meeisther Hycy?"

"By-and-by--not now; but help yourselves. "

"When did you see Miss Kathleen, Masther Hycy, " asked Kate. 

"You mean Miss Kathleen the Proud?" he replied--"my Lady Dignity--I havea crow to pluck with her. "

"What crow have you to pluck wid her?" asked Kate, fiercely. "You'llpluck no crow wid her, or, if you do, I'll find a bag to hould thefedhers--mind that. "

"No, no, " said Philip; "whatever's to be done, she must come to noharm. "

"Why, the crow I have to pluck with her, Mrs. Hogan, is--let mesee--why--to--to marry her--to bind her in the bands of holy wedlock;and you know, when I do, I'm to give you all a house and place freegratis for nothing during your lives--that's what I pledge myself to do, and not a rope to hang yourselves, worthy gentlemen, as Finigan wouldsay. I pass over the fact, " he proceeded, laughing, "of the peculiarintimacy which, on a certain occasion, was established between Jemmy, the gentleman's old oak drawers, and your wrenching-irons; however, thatis not the matter at present, and I am somewhat in a hurry. "

"You heard, " said Bat, "that Bryan M'Mahon has lost his mother?"

"I did, " said the other; "poor orphan lad, I pity him. "

"We know you do, " said Bat, with a vindictive but approving sneer. 

"I assure you, " continued Hycy, "I wish the young man well. "

"Durin' der lives, " repeated Phats, who had evidently been ponderingover Hycy's promised gift to the Hogans;--"throth, " he observed witha grin, "dere may be something under dat too. Ay! an' she wishes BryanM'Mahon well, " he exclaimed, raising his red eyebrows. 

"Shiss, " replied Hycy, mimicking him, "her does. "

"But you must have de still-house nowhere but in Ahadarra for alls dat. "

"For alls dats" replied the other. "Dat will do den, " said Phats, composedly. "Enough of this, " said Hycy. "Now, Phats, have you examinedand pitched upon the place?"

"Well, then, " replied Phats, speaking in his natural manner, "I have;an' a betther spot isn't in Europe than there is undher the hip ofCullamore. But do you know how Roger Cooke sarved Adam Blakely ofGlencuil?"

"Perfectly well, " replied Hycy, "he ruined him. "

"But we don't know it, " said Ned; "how was it, Teddy?"

"Why, he set up a still on his property--an' you know Adam owns thewhole townland, jist as Bryan M'Mahon does Ahadarra--an' afther threeor four runnin she gets a bloody scoundrel to inform upon Adam, as if itwas him an' not himself that had the still. Clinton the gauger--may thedevil break his neck at any rate!--an' the redcoats--came and found allright, Still, Head, and Worm. "

"Well, " said Bat, "an' how did that ruin him?"

"Why, by the present law, " returned Phats, "it's the townland that mustpay the fine. Poor Adam wasn't to say very rich; he had to pay the fine, however, and now he's a beggar--root an' branch, chick an' child out ofit. Do you undherstand that, Misther Hycy?"

"No, " replied Hycy, "you're mistaken; I have recourse to the still, because I want cash. Honest Jemmy the gentleman has taken the _sthad_an' won't fork out any longer, so that I must either run a cast or twoevery now an' then, or turn clodhopper like himself. So much I say foryour information, Mr. Phats. In the meantime let us see what's to bedone. Here, Ned, is a five-pound note to buy barley; keep a strictaccount of this; for I do assure you that I am not a person to be playedon. There's another thirty-shilling note--or stay, I'll make it twopounds--to enable you to box up the still-house and remove the vesselsand things from Glendearg. Have you all ready, Philip?" he said, addressing himself to Hogan. 

"All, " replied Philip; "sich a Still, Head, and Worm, you'd not find inEurope--ready to be set to work at a minute's notice. "

"When, " said Hycy, rising, "will it be necessary that I should see youagain?"

"We'll let you know, " replied Phats, "when we want you. Kate here candrop in, as if by accident, an' give the hand word. "

"Well, then, good-night--stay, give me a glass of whiskey before I go;and, before I do go, listen. You know the confidence I place in everyone of you on this occasion?"

"We do, " replied Philip; "no doubt of it. "

"Listen, I say. I swear by all that a man can swear by, that if a soulof you ever breathes--I hope, by the way, that these young savages areall asleep--"

"As sound as a top, " said Bat, "everyone o' them. "

"Well, if a single one of you ever breathes my name or mentions me toa human being as in any way connected, directly or indirectly, with thebusiness in which we are engaged, I'll make the country too hot to holdyou--and you need no ghost to tell you how easily I could dispose of youif it went to that. "

Kate, when he had repeated these words, gave him a peculiar glance, which was accompanied by a short abrupt laugh that seemed to havesomething derisive in it. 

"Is there anything to be laughed at in what I am saying, most amiableMrs. Hogan?" he asked. 

Kate gave either a feigned or a real start as he spoke. 

"Laughed at!" she exclaimed, as if surprised; "throth I wasn't thinkinof you at all, Mr. Hycy. What wor you sayin'?"

"That if my name ever happens to be mentioned in connection withthis business, I'll send the whole kit of you--hammers, budgets, and sothering-irons--to hell or Connaught; so think of this now, andgoodnight. "

"There goes as d----d vagabond, " said Ned, "as ever stretched hemp; andonly that it's our own business to make the most use we can out of him, I didn't care the devil had him, for I don't like a bone in his skin. "

"Why, " said Philip, "I see what he's at now. Sure enough he'll put thecopin'-stone on Bryan. M'Mahon at any rate--that, an' if we can get thehouse and place out of him--an' what need we care?"

"Send us to hell or Connaught, " said Kate; "well, that's not bad--ha!ha! ha!"

"What are you neigherin' at?" said her husband; "and what set youa-caoklin' to his face a while ago?"

She shook her head carelessly. "No matther, " she replied, "for a raisonI had. "

"Would you let me know your raison, if you plaise?"

"If I plaise--ay, you did well to put that in, for I don't plaise to letyou know any more about it. I laughed bekaise I liked to laugh; an' Ihope one may do that 'ithout being brought over the coals about it. Goto bed, an' give me another glass o' whiskey, Ted--it always makes mesleep. "

Ted had been for some minutes evidently ruminating. 

"He is a good boy, " said he; "but at any rate our hands is in the lion'smouth, an' its not our policy to vex him. "

Hycy, on his way home, felt himself in better spirits than he had. Been in for some time. The arrangement with young Clinton gave himconsiderable satisfaction, and he now resolved to lose as little time aspossible in executing his own part of the contract. Clinton himself, who was a thoughtless young fellow, fond of pleasure, and with no greatrelish for business, was guided almost in everything by his knowing olduncle the gauger, on whom he and his sister depended, and who lookedupon him as unfit for any kind of employment unless the management of acheap farm, such as would necessarily draw his attention from habits ofidleness and expense to those of application and industry. Being aware, from common report, that M'Mahon's extensive and improvable holding inAhadarra was out of lease, he immediately set his heart upon it, butknew not exactly in what manner to accomplish his designs, in securingit if he could, without exposing himself to suspicion and a good deal ofobloquy besides. Old Clinton was one of those sheer and hardened sinnerswho, without either scruple or remorse, yet think it worth while to keepas good terms with the world as they can, whilst at the same timethey laugh and despise in their hearts all that is worthy of honor andrespect in it. His nephew, however, had some positive good, and not alittle of that light and reckless profligacy which is often mistaken forheart and spirit. Hycy and he, though not very long acquainted, were, atthe present period of our narrative, on very intimate terms. They had, it is true, a good many propensities in common, and these were whatconstituted the bond between them. They were companions but not friends;and Clinton saw many things in Hycy which disgusted him exceedingly, andscarcely anything more than the contemptuous manner in which he spoke ofand treated his parents. He liked his society, because he was livelyand without any of that high and honorable moral feeling which is oftentroublesome to a companion who, like Clinton, was not possessed of muchscruple while engaged in the pursuit of pleasures. On this account, therefore, we say that he relished his society, but could neitherrespect nor esteem him. 

On the following morning at breakfast, his uncle asked him where he haddined the day before. 

"With Hycy Burke, sir, " replied the nephew. 

"Yes; that is honest Jemmy's son--a very great man in his own conceit, Harry. You seem to like him very much. "

Harry felt a good deal puzzled as to the nature of his reply. He knewvery well that his uncle did not relish Hycy, and he felt that he couldnot exactly state his opinion of him without bringing in questionhis own penetration and good taste in keeping his society. Then, withrespect to his sister, although he had no earthly intention of seeingher the wife of such a person, still he resolved to be able to say toHycy that he had not broken his word, a consideration which would nothave bound Hycy one moment under the same circumstances. 

"He's a very pleasant young fellow, sir, " replied the other, "and hasbeen exceedingly civil and attentive to me. "

"Ay!--do you like him--do you esteem him, I mean?"

"I dare say I will, sir, when I come to know him better. "

"Which is as much as to say that at present you do not. So I thought. You have a portion of good sense about you, but in a thousand thingsyou're a jackass, Harry. "

"Thank you, sir, " replied his nephew, laughing heartily; "thank you forthe compliment. I am your nephew, you know. "

"You have a parcel of d----d scruples, I say, that are ridiculous. Whatthe devil need a man care about in this world but appearances? Mind yourown interests, keep up appearances, and you have done your duty. "

"But I should like to do a little more than keep up appearances, "replied his nephew. 

"I know you would, " said his uncle, "and it is for that especial reasonthat I say you're carrying the ears. I'm now a long time in the world, Masther Harry--sixty-two years--although I don't look it, nor anythinglike it, and in the course of that time--or, at all events, eversince I was able to form my own opinions, I never met a man thatwasn't a rogue in something, with the exception of--let mesee--one--two--three--four--five--I'm not able to make out thehalf-dozen. "

"And who were the five honorable exceptions?" asked his niece, smiling. 

"They were the five fools of the parish, Maria--and yet I am wrong, still--for Bob M'Cann was as thievish as the very devil whenever he hadan opportunity. And now, do you know the conclusion I come to from allthis?"

"I suppose, " said his niece, "that no man's honest but a fool. "

"Thank you, Maria, Well done--you've hit it. By the way, it's seemsM'Mahon's wife, of Carriglass, is dead. "

"Is she?" said Harry; "that is a respectable family, father, by allaccounts. "

"Why, they neither rob nor steal, I believe, " replied his uncle. "Theyare like most people, I suppose, honest in the eye of the law--honestbecause the laws keep them so. "

"I did not think your opinion of the world was so bad, uncle, " saidMaria; "I hope it is not so bad as you say it is. "

"All I can say, then, " replied the old Cynic, "that if you wait till youfind an honest man for your husband, you'll die an old maid. "

"Well, but excuse me, uncle, is that safe doctrine to lay down beforeyour nephew, or myself?"

"Pooh, as to you, you silly girl, what have you to do with it? We'retaikin' about men, now--about the world, I say, and life in general. "

"And don't you wish Harry to be honest?"

"Yes, where it is his interest; and ditto to roguery, where it can bedone safely. "

"I know you don't feel what you say, uncle, " she observed, "nor believeit either. "

"Not he, Maria, " said her brother, awakening out of a reverie; "but, uncle, as to Hycy Burke--I don't--hem. "

"You don't what?" asked the other, rising and staring at him. 

His nephew looked at his sister, and was silent. 

"You don't mean what, man?--always speak out. Here, help me on withthis coat. Fethertonge and I are taking a ride up tomorrow as far asAhadarra. "

"That's a man I don't like, " said the nephew. "He's too soft and toosweet, and speaks too low to be honest. "

"Honest, you blockhead! Who says he's honest?" replied his uncle. "He'sas good a thing, however, an excellent man of the world that looks tothe main point, and--keeps up appearances. Take care of yourselves;"and with these words, accompanied with a shrewd, knavish nod that waspeculiar to him, in giving which with expression he was a perfect adept, he left them. 

When he was gone, the brother and his sister looked at each, other, andthe latter said, "Can it be possible, Harry, that my uncle is serious inall he says on this subject?"

Her brother, who paid more regard to the principles of his sisterthan her uncle did, felt great reluctance in answering her in theaffirmative, so much so, indeed, that he resolved to stretch a littlefor the sake of common decency. 

"Not at all, Maria; no man relishes honesty more than he does. He onlyspeaks in this fashion because he thinks that honest men are scarce, andso they are. But, by-the-way, talking about Hycy Burke, Maria, how doyou like him?"

"I can't say I admire him, " she replied, "but you know I have had veryslight opportunities of forming any opinion. "

"From what you have seen of him, what do you think?"

"Let me see, " she replied, pausing; "why, that he'll meet very few whowill think so highly of him as he does of himself. "

"He thinks very highly of you, then. "

"How do you know that?" she asked somewhat quickly. 

"Faith, Maria, from the best authority--because he himself told me so. "

"So, then, I have had the honor of furnishing you with a topic ofconversation?"

"Unquestionably, and you may prepare yourself for a surprise. He'sattached to you. "

"I think not, " she replied calmly. 

"Why so?" he asked. 

"Because, if you wish to know the truth, I do not think him capable ofattachment to any one but himself. "

"Faith, a very good reason, Maria; but, seriously, if he shouldintroduce the subject, I trust, at all events, that you will treat himwith respect. "

"I shall certainly respect myself, Harry. He need not fear that I shallread him one of my uncle's lectures upon life and honesty. "

"I have promised not to be his enemy in the matter, and I shall keep myword. "

"So you may, Harry, with perfect safety. I am much obliged to him forhis good opinion; but"--she paused. 

"What do you stop at, Maria?"

"I was only about to add, " she replied, "that I wish it was mutual. "

"You wish it, " he exclaimed. "What do you mean by that, Maria?"

She laughed. "Don't you know it is only a form of speech? a polite wayof saying that he does not rank high in my esteem?"

"Well, well, " he replied, "settle that matter between you; perhaps thedevil is not so black as he's painted. "

"A very unhappy illustration, " said his sister, "whatever has put itinto your head. '

"Faith, and I don't know what put it there. However, all I can say inthe matter I have already said. I am not, nor shall I be, his enemy. I'll trouble you, as you're near it, to touch the bell till George getsthe horse. I am going up to his father's, now. Shall I tell him thatJohn Wallace is discarded; that he will be received with smiles, andthat--"

"How can you be so foolish, Harry?"

"Well, good-bye, at any rate. You are perfectly capable of deciding foryourself, Maria. "

"I trust so, " she replied. "There's George with your horse now. "

"It's a blue look-up, Master Hycy, " said Clinton to himself as he tookhis way to Burke's. "I think you have but little chance in that quarter, oh, most accomplished Hycy, and indeed I am not a whit sorry; but shouldbe very much so were it otherwise. "

It is singular enough that whilst Clinton was introducing the subjectof Hycy's attachment to his sister, that worthy young gentleman wassustaining a much more serious and vehement onset upon a similar subjectat home. Gerald Cavanagh and his wife having once got the notion of amarriage between Kathleen and Hycy into their heads, were determined notto rest until that desirable consummation should be brought about. Inaccordance with this resolution, we must assure our readers that Geraldnever omitted any opportunity of introducing the matter to Jemmy Burke, who, as he liked the Cavanaghs, and especially Kathleen herself, who, indeed, was a general favorite, began to think that, although in pointof circumstances she was by no means a match for him, Hycy might dostill worse. It is true, his wife was outrageous at the bare mention ofit; but Jemmy, along with a good deal of blunt sarcasm, had a resolutionof his own, and not unfrequently took a kind of good-natured andshrewd delight in opposing her wishes whenever he found them to beunreasonable. For several months past he could not put his foot out ofthe door that he was not haunted by honest Gerald Cavanagh, who had onlyone idea constantly before him, that of raising his daughter to the rankand state in which he knew, or at least calculated that Hycy Burke wouldkeep her. Go where he might, honest Jemmy was attended by honest Gerald, like his fetch. At mass, at market, in every fair throughout the countrywas Cavanagh sure to bring up the subject of the marriage; and whatwas the best of it, he and his neighbor drank each other's healths sorepeatedly on the head of it, that they often separated in a state thatmight be termed anything but sober. Nay, what is more, it was a factthat they had more than once or twice absolutely arranged the wholematter, and even appointed the day for the wedding, without either ofthem being able to recollect the circumstances on the following morning. 

Whilst at breakfast on the morning in question, Burke, after finishinghis first cup of tea, addressed his worthy son as follows:--

"Hycy, do you intend to live always this way?"

"Certainly not, Mr. Burke. I expect to dine on something moresubstantial than tea. "

"You're very stupid, Hycy, not to understand me; but, indeed, you neverwere overstocked wid brains, unfortunately, as I know to my cost--butwhat I mane is, have you any intention of changing your condition inlife? Do you intend to marry, or to go on spendin' money upon me at thisrate!"

"The old lecture, Mrs. Burke, " said Hycy, addressing his mother. "Father, you are sadly deficient in originality. Of late you areperpetually repeating yourself. Why, I suppose to-morrow or next day, you will become geometrical on our hands, or treat us to a grammaticalpraxis. Don't you think it very likely, Mrs. Burke!"

"And if he does, " replied his mother, "it's not the first time he hasbeen guilty of both; but of late, all the little shame he had, he haslost it. "

"Faith, and if I hadn't got a large stock, I'd a been run out of it thismany a day, in regard of what I had to lose in that way for you, Hycy. However I'll thank you to listen to me. Have you any intention ofmarryin' a wife?"

"Unquestionably, Mr. Burke. Not a doubt of it. "

"Well, I am glad to hear it. The sooner you're married, the sooneryou'll settle down. You'll know, then, my lad, what life is. "

Honest Jemmy's sarcasm was likely to carry him too far from his purpose, which was certainly not to give a malicious account of matrimony, but, on the contrary, to recommend it to his worthy son. 

"Well, Mr. Burke, " said Hycy, winking at his mother, "proceed. "

"The truth is, Hycy, " he added, "I have a wife in my eye for you. "

"I thought as much, " replied the other. "I did imagine it was there youhad her; name--Mr. Burke--name?"

"Troth, I'm ashamed, Hycy, to name her and yourself on the same day. "

"Well, can't you name her to-day, and postpone me until to-morrow?"

"It would be almost a pity to have her thrown away upon you. A good andvirtuous wife, however, may do a great deal to reclaim a bad husband, and, indeed, you wouldn't be the first profligate that was reformed inthe same way. "

"Many thanks, Mr. Burke; you are quite geological this morning; isn'the, ma'am?"

"When was he ever anything else? God pardon him! However, I know whathe's exterminatin' for; he wants you to marry Kathleen Cavanagh. "

"Ay do I, Rosha; and she might make him a respectable man yet, --that is, if any woman could. "

"Geological again, mother; well, really now, Katsey Cavanagh is asplendid girl, a fine animal, no doubt of it; all her points are good, but, at the same time, Mr. Burke, a trifle too plebeian for Hycy theaccomplished. "

"I tell you she's a devilish sight too good for you; and if you don'tmarry her, you'll never get such a wife. "

"Troth, " answered Mrs. Burke, "I think myself there's something overyou, or you wouldn't spake as you do--a wife for Hycy--one of GeraldCavanagh's daughters make a wife for him!--not while I'm alive at anyrate, plaise God. "

"While you're alive; well, may be not:--but sure if it plases God tobring it about, on your own plan, I must endaivor to be contented, Rosha; ay, an' how do you know but I'd dance at their weddin' too!ha! ha! ha!"

"Oh, then, it's you that's the bitther pill, Jemmy Burke! but, thankGod, I disregard you at all events. It's little respect you pay to myfeelings, or ever did. "

"I trust, my most amiable mother, that you won't suffer the equabilityof your temper to be disturbed by anything proceeding from such anantiphlogistic source. Allow me to say, Mr. Burke, that I have highergame in view, and that for the present I must beg respectfully todecline the proposal which you so kindly made, fully sensible as I amof the honor you intended for me. If you will only exercise a littlepatience, however, perhaps I shall have the pleasure ere long ofpresenting to you a lady of high accomplishments, amiable manners, andvery considerable beauty. "

"Not a 'Crazy Jane' bargain, I hope?"

"Really, Mr. Burke, you are pleased to be sarcastic; but as for honestKatsey, have the goodness to take her out of your eye as soon aspossible, for she only blinds you to your own interest and to mine. "

"You wouldn't marry Kathleen, then?"

"For the present I say most assuredly not, " replied the son, in the sameironical and polite tone. 

"Because, " continued his father, with a very grave smile, in which therewas, to say truth, a good deal of the grin visible, "as poor Gerald wasa good deal anxious about the matther, I said I'd try and make you marryher--_to oblige him_. "

Hycy almost, if not altogether, lost his equanimity by the contemptuoussarcasm implied in these words. "Father, " said he, to save trouble, andto prevent you and me both from thrashing the wind in this manner, Ithink it right to tell you that I have no notion of marrying such a girlas Cavanagh's daughter. "

"No, " continued his mother, "nor if you had, I wouldn't suffer it. "

"Very well, " said the father; "is that your mind?"

"That's my mind, sir. "

"Well, now, listen to mine, and maybe, Hycy, I'll taiche you bettermanners and more respect for your father; suppose I bring your brotherhome from school, --suppose I breed him up an honest farmer, --and supposeI give him all my property, and lave Mr. Gentleman Hycy to lead agentleman's life on his own means, the best way he can. There now issomething for you to suppose, and so I must go to my men. "

He took up his hat as he spoke and went out to the fields, leaving bothmother and son in no slight degree startled by an intimation so utterlyunexpected, but which they knew enough of him to believe was one not atall unlikely to be acted on by a man who so frequently followed up hisown determinations with a spirit amounting almost to obstinacy. 

"I think, mother, " observed the latter, "we must take in sail a little;'the gentleman' won't bear the ironical to such an extent, although heis master of it in his own way; in other words, Mr. Burke won't bear tobe laughed at. "

"Not he, " said his mother, in the tone of one who was half angry at himon that very account, "he'll bear nothing. "

"D--n it, to tell that vulgar bumpkin, Cavanagh, I suppose in a stateof maudlin drunkenness, that he would make me marry his daughter--tooblige, him!--contempt could go no further; it was making a completecipher of me. "

"Ay, but I'm disturbed about what he said going out, Hycy. I don'thalf like the face he had on him when he said it; and when he comes todiscover other things, too, money matthers--there will be no keepin thehouse wid him. "

"I fear as much, " said Hycy; "however, we must only play our cards aswell as we can; he is an impracticable man, no doubt of it, and it is asad thing that a young fellow of spirit should be depending on such a--

 "'Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can you bloom so fresh and fair, How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu' o' care, &c. , &c. 

"Well, well--I do not relish that last hint certainly, and if otherprojects should fail, why, as touching the fair Katsey, it might notbe impossible that--however, time will develop. She is a fine girl, amagnificent creature, no doubt of it, still, most maternal relative, asI said, time will develop--by the way, Mrs. M'Mahon, the clodhopper'smother, is to be interred to-morrow, and I suppose you and 'thegentleman' will attend the funeral. "

"Sartinly, we must. "

"So shall 'the accomplished. ' Clinton and I shall honor that lugubriousceremony with our presence; but as respecting the clodhopper himself, meaning thereby Bryan of Ahadarra, he is provided for. What an unluckythought to enter into the old fellow's noddle! However, _non constat_, as Finigan would say, time will develop. "

"You're not gainin' ground with him at all events, " said his mother;"ever since that Crazy Jane affair he's changed for the worse towardsboth of us, or ever since the robbery I ought to say, for he's dark andhas something on his mind ever since. "

"I'm in the dark there myself, most amiable of mothers; however, as Isaid just now, I say time will develop. "

He then began to prepare himself for the business of the day, whichconsisted principally in riding about seeking out new adventures, or, asthey term it, hunting in couples, with Harry Clinton. 

CHAPTER XIII. --Mrs. M'Mahon's Funeral. 

On the morning of Mrs. M'Mahon's funeral, the house as is usual in suchcases, was filled with relatives and neighbors, each and all anxiousto soothe and give comfort to the afflicted family. Protestants andPresbyterians were there, who entered as deeply and affectionately intothe sorrow which was felt as if they were connected to them by blood. Moving about with something like authority, was Dennis O'Grady, the Roman Catholic Parish Clerk, who, with a semi-clerical bearing, undertook to direct the religious devotions which are usual on suchoccasions. In consequence of the dearth of schools and teachers thatthen existed in our unfortunate country, it frequently happened, thatpersons were, from necessity, engaged in aiding the performance ofreligious duties, who were possessed of very little education, if not, as was too often the case, absolutely and wholly illiterate. Dennis wasnot absolutely illiterate, but, in good truth, he was by no means farremoved from that uncomfortable category. Finigan, the schoolmaster, was also present; and as he claimed acquaintance with the classics, and could understand and read with something like correctness the Latinoffices, which were frequently repeated on these occasions it would beutterly impossible to describe the lofty scorn and haughty superciliouscontempt with which he contemplated poor Dennis, who kept muttering awayat the _Confiteor_ and _De Profundis_ with a barbarity of pronunciationthat rendered it impossible for human ears to understand a single wordhe said. Finigan, swollen with an indignation which he could no longersuppress, and stimulated by a glass or two of whiskey, took three orfour of the neighbors over to a corner, where, whilst his eyes rested onDennis with a most withering expression of scorn, he exclaimed--"Here, hand me that manual, and get out o' my way, you illiterate nonentity andmost unsufferable appendage to religion. "

He then took the book, and going over to the coffin, read in a loudand sonorous voice the _De Profundis_ and other prayers for the dead, casting his eyes from time to time upon the unfortunate clerk with acontemptuous bitterness and scorn that, for force of expression, couldnot be surpassed. When he had concluded, he looked around him with asense of lofty triumph that was irresistible in its way. "There, " saidhe, "is something like accent and quantity for you--there is somethingthat may, without derogation to religion, be called respectableperusal--an' yet to say that a man like me, wid classicalaccomplishments and propensities from my very cradle, should be setaside for that illiterate vulgarian, merely because, like every otherjanius, I sometimes indulge in the delectable enjoyment of a copiouslibation, is too bad. "

This in fact was the gist of his resentment against O'Grady. He had beenin the habit for some time of acting as clerk to the priest, who borewith his "copious libations, " as he called them, until common decencyrendered it impossible to allow him any longer the privilege of taking apart as clerk in the ceremonies of religion. 

When this was over, a rustic choir, whom the parish clerk had organized, and in a great measure taught himself, approached the body and sang ahymn over it, after which the preparations for its removal began to bemade. 

Ever since the death of his wife, Thomas M'Mahon could not be prevailedupon to taste a morsel of food. He went about from place to place, marked by such evidences of utter prostration and despair that it waspainful to look upon him, especially when one considered the truth, purity, and fervor of the affection that had subsisted between him andthe inestimable woman he had lost. The only two individuals capable ofexercising any influence upon him now were Bryan and his daughter Dora;yet even they could not prevail upon him to take any sustenance. Hisface was haggard and pale as death, his eyes red and bloodshot, and hisvery body, which had always been erect and manly, was now stooped andbent from the very intensity of his affliction. 

He had been about the garden during the scene just described, and fromthe garden he passed round through all the office-houses, into every oneof which he entered, looking at them in the stupid bereavement of grief, as if he had only noticed them for the first time. On going into thecow-house where the animals were at their food, he approached one ofthem--that which had been his wife's favorite, and which would sufferno hand to milk her but her own--"Oh, Bracky, " he said, "little you knowwho's gone from you--even you miss her already, for you refused for thelast three days to let any one of them milk you, when she was not hereto do it. Ah, Bracky, the kind hand and the kind word that you liked sowell will never be wid you more--that low sweet song that you loved tolisten to, and that made you turn round while she was milkin' you, an'lick her wid your tongue from pure affection--for what was there thathad life that didn't love her? That low, sweet song, Bracky, you willnever hear again. Well, Bracky, for her sake I'm come to tell you, thissorrowful mornin', that while I have life an' the means of keepin' you, from me an' them she loved you will never part. "

While he spoke the poor animal, feeling from the habit of instinct thatthe hour of! milking had arrived, turned round and uttered once or twicethat affectionate lowing with which she usually called upon the departedto come and relieve her of her fragrant burthen. This was more thanthe heart-broken man could bear, he walked back, and entering thewake-house, in a burst of vehement sorrow--"Oh, Bridget, my wife, mywife--is it any wondher we should feel your loss, when your favorite, Bracky, is callin' for you; but you won't come to her--that voice thatso often charmed her will never charm the poor affectionate creatureagain. "

"Father dear, " said Bryan, "if ever you were called upon to be a man itis now. "

"But, Byran, as God is to judge me, " replied his father, "the cow--herown cow--is callin' for her in the cow-house widin--its truth--doesn'teverything miss her--even poor Bracky feels as if she was dasarted. Oh, my God, an' what will we do--what will we do!"

This anecdote told by the sorrowing husband was indeed inexpressinglyaffecting. Bryan, who had collected all his firmness with a hope ofbeing able to sustain his father, was so much overpowered by thiscircumstance that, after two or three ineffectual attempts to soothehim, he was himself fairly overcome, and yielded for the moment tobitter tears, whilst the whole family broke out into one generaloutburst, of sorrow, accompanied in many cases by the spectators, whowere not proof against the influence of so natural and touching anincident. 

Their neighbors and friends, in the meantime, were pouring in fastfrom all directions. Jemmy Burke and his wife--the latter ridiculouslyover-dressed--drove there upon their jaunting-car, which was considereda great compliment, followed soon afterwards by Hycy and Harry Clintonon horse-back. Gerald Cavanagh and his family also came, with theexception of Kathleen and Hanna, who were, however, every momentexpected. The schoolmaster having finished the _De Profundis_, was, as is usual, treated to glass of whiskey--a circumstance which justadvanced him to such a degree of fluency and easy assurance as wasnecessary properly to develop the peculiarities of his character. Havingwitnessed Bryan's failure at consolation, attended as it was by theclamorous grief of the family, he deemed it his duty, especially ashe had just taken some part in the devotions, to undertake the task inwhich Bryan had been so unsuccessful. 

"Thomas M'Mahon, " said he, "I'm disposed to blush--do you hear me, Isay? I am disposed to blush, I repate, for your want of--he doesn't hearme:--will you pay attention? I am really disposed to blush"--and as heuttered the words he stirred M'Mahon by shaking his shoulders two orthree times, in order to gain his attention. 

"Are you?" replied the other, replying in an absent manner to his words. "God help you then, and assist you, for it's few can do it. "

"Can do what?"

"Och, I don't know; whatever you wor sayin'. "

"Patience, my good friend, Thomas M'Mahon. I would call you Tomfamiliarly, but that you are in affliction, and it is well known thatevery one in affliction is, or at least ought to be, treated withrespect and much sympathetical consolation. You are now in deep sorrow;but don't you knows that death is the end of all things? and believe methere are many objects in this world which a wise and experienced manwould lose wid much greater regret than he would a mere wife. Think, forinstance, how many men there are--dreary and subdued creatures--whodare not call their souls, if they have any, or anything else they dopossess, their own; think, I repate, of those who would give nine-tenthsof all they are worth simply to be in your present condition! Wretcheswho from the moment they passed under the yoke matrimonial, to which allother yokes are jokes, have often heard of liberty but never enjoyed itfor one single hour--the Lord help them!"

"Amen!" exclaimed M'Mahon, unconsciously. 

"Yes, " proceeded Finigan, "unfortunate devils whose obstinacy has beenstreaked by a black mark, or which ought rather to be termed a black andblue mark, for that is an abler and more significant illustration, Poorquadrupeds who have lived their whole miserable lives as married menunder an iron dynasty; and who know that the thunderings of Jupiterhimself, if he were now in vogue, would be mere music compared to thefury of a conjugal tongue when agitated by any one of the thousandcauses that set it a-going so easily. Now, Thomas, I am far frominsinuating that ever you stood in that most pitiable category, but Iknow many who have--heigho!--and I know many who do, and some besideswho will; for what was before may be agin, and it will be nothing butascendancy armed with her iron rod on the one hand, against patience, submission, and tribulation, wid their groans and penances on the other. Courage then, my worthy friend; do not be overwhelmed wid grief, forI can assure you that as matters in general go on the surface of thisterraqueous globe, the death of a wife ought to be set down as a proofthat heaven does not altogether overlook us. 'Tis true there are tearsshed upon such occasions, and for very secret reason's too, if the truthwere known. Joy has its tears as well as grief, I believe, and it isoften rather difficult, under a blessing so completely disguised as thedeath of a wi--of one's matrimonial partner, to restrain them. Come then, be a man. There is Mr. Hycy Burke, a tender-hearted younggentleman, and if you go on this way you will have him weeping' forsheer sympathy, not pretermitting Mr. Clinton, his companion, whois equally inclined to be pathetic, if one can judge from apparentsymptoms. "

"I'm obliged to you, Masther, " replied M'Mahon, who had not heard, orrather paid attention to, a single syllable he had uttered. "Of courseit's thruth you're savin'---it is--it is, _fureer gair_ it is; and shethat's gone from me is a proof of it. What wondher then that I shouldshed tears, and feel as I do?"

The unconscious simplicity of this reply to such a singular argument forconsolation as the schoolmaster had advanced, caused many to smile, some to laugh outright, and others to sympathize still more deeplywith M'Mahon's sorrow. Finigan's allusion to Hycy and his companion wasjustified by the contrast which the appearance of each presented. Hycy, who enjoyed his lecture on the tribulations of matrimonial life verymuch, laughed as he advanced in it, whilst Clinton, who was reallyabsorbed in a contemplation of the profound and solemn spirit whichmarked the character of the grief he witnessed, and who felt impressedbesides by the touching emblems of death and bereavement whichsurrounded him, gradually gave way to the impressions that gained onhim, until he almost felt the tears in his eyes. 

At this moment Kathleen and her sister Hanna entered the house, and ageneral stir took place among those who were present, which was causedby her strikingly noble figure and extraordinary beauty--a beauty which, on the occasion in question, assumed a peculiarly dignified and majesticcharacter from the deep and earnest sympathy with the surrounding sorrowthat was impressed on it. 

Hycy and his companion surveyed her for many minutes; and the formerbegan to think that after all, if Miss Clinton should fail him, Kathleenwould make an admirable and most lovely wife. Her father soon after sheentered came over, and taking her hand said, "Come with me, Kathleen, till you shake hands wid a great friend of yours--wid Misther Burke. This is herself, Misther Burke, " he added, significantly, on putting herhand into that of honest Jemmy, "an' I think no father need be ashamedof her. "

"Nor no father-in-law, " replied Jemmy, shaking her cordially by thehand, "and whisper, darlin', " said he, putting his mouth close to herear, and speaking so as that he might not be heard by others, "I hope tosee you my daughter-in-law yet, if I could only get that boy beyant tomake himself worthy of you. "

On speaking he turned his eyes on Hycy, who raised himself up, andassuming his best looks intimated his consciousness of being the objectof his father's allusion to him. He then stepped over to where shestood, and extending his hand with an air of gallantry and good humorsaid, "I hope Miss Cavanagh, who has so far honored our worthy father, won't refuse to honor the son. "

Kathleen, who had blushed at his father's words, now blushed more deeplystill; because in this instance, there was added to the blush of modestythat of offended pride at his unseasonable presumption. 

"This, Mr. Hycy, " she replied, "is neither a time nor a place for emptycompliments. When the son becomes as worthy as the father, I'll shakehands with him; but not till that time comes. "

On returning to the place she had left, her eyes met those of Bryan, andfor a period that estimable and true-hearted young fellow forgotboth grief and sorrow in the rush of rapturous love which pouredits unalloyed sense of happiness into his heart. Hycy, however, feltmortified, and bit his lip with vexation. To a young man possessed ofexcessive vanity, the repulse was the more humiliating in proportion toits publicity. Gerald Cavanagh was as deeply offended as Hycy, and hiswife could not help exclaiming aloud, "Kathleen! what do you mane? Ideclare I'm ashamed of you!"

Kathleen, however, sat down beside her sister, and the matter was soonforgotten in the stir and bustle which preceded the setting out of thefuneral. 

This was indeed a trying and heart-rending scene. The faithful wife, thevirtuous mother, the kind friend, and the pious Christian, was now aboutto be removed for ever from that domestic scene which her fidelity, hervirtue, her charity, and her piety, had filled with peace, and love, andhappiness. As the coffin, which had been resting upon two chairs, wasabout to be removed, the grief of her family became loud and vehement. 

"Oh, Bridget!" exclaimed her husband, "and is it to come to this atlast! And you are lavin' us for evermore! Don't raise the coffin, " heproceeded, "don't raise it. Oh! let us not part wid her till to-morrow;let us know that she's undher the same roof wid us until then. An', merciful Father, when I think where you're goin' to bring her to! Oh!there lies the heart now widout one motion--dead and cowld--the heartthat loved us all as no other heart ever did! Bridget, my wife, don'tyou hear me? But the day was that you'd hear me, an' that your kind an'lovin' eye would turn on me wid that smile that was never broken. Whereis the wife that was true? Where is the lovin' mother, the charitableheart to the poor and desolate, and the hand that was ever ready to aidthem that was in distress? Where are they all now? There, dead and cowldforever, in that coffin. What has become of my wife, I say? What isdeath at all, to take all we love from us this way? But sure God forgiveme for saying so, for isn't it the will of God? but oh! it is theheaviest of all thrials to lose such a woman as she was!"

Old grandfather, as he was called, had latterly become very feeble, and was barely able to be out of bed on that occasion. When the tumultreached the room where he sat with some of the aged neighbors, heinquired what had occasioned it, and being told that the coffin wasabout to be removed to the hearse, he rose up. 

"That is Tom's voice I hear, " said he, "and I must put an end tothis. " He accordingly made his appearance rather unexpectedly among them, and approaching his son, said, putting his hand commandingly uponhis shoulder, and looking in his face with a solemn consciousness ofauthority that was irresistible, "I command you, Tom, to stop. It's notmany commands that I'll ever give you--maybe this will be the last--andit's not many ever I had occasion to give you, but now I command you tostop and let the funeral go on. " He paused for a short time and lookedupon the features of his son with a full sense of what was due to hisauthority. His great age, his white hairs, his venerable looks andbearing, and the reverence which the tremulous but earnest tones of hisvoice were calculated to inspire, filled his son with awe, and he wassilent. 

"Father, " said he, "I will; I'll try and obey you--I will. "

"God bless you and comfort you, my dear son, " said the old man. "Keepsilence, now, " he proceeded, addressing the others, "and bring thecoffin to the hearse at wanst. And may God strengthen and support youall, for it's I that knows your loss; but like a good mother as she was, she has left none but good and dutiful childre' behind her. "

Poor Dora, during the whole morning, had imposed a task upon herselfthat was greater than her affectionate and sorrowing heart could bear. She was very pale and exhausted by the force of what she had felt, andher excessive weeping; but it was observed that she now appeared tomanifest a greater degree of fortitude than any of the rest. Still, during this assumed calmness, the dear girl, every now and then, couldnot help uttering a short convulsive sob, that indicated at once herphysical debility and extraordinary grief. She was evidently incapableof entering into conversation, or at least, averse to it, and wasconsequently very silent during the whole morning. As they stooped, however, to remove the coffin, she threw herself upon it, exclaiming, "Mother, its your own Dora--mother--mother--don't, mother--don't lave medon't--I won't let her go--I won't let her go! I--I--" Even before shecould utter the words she intended to say, her head sank down, and herpale but beautiful cheek lay exactly beside the name, Bridget M'Mahon, that was upon it. 

"The poor child has fainted, " they exclaimed, "bring her to the freshair. "

Ere any one had time, however, to raise her, James Cavanagh rushed overto the coffin, and seizing her in his arms, bore her to the street, where he placed her upon one of the chairs that had been left thereto support the coffin until keened over by the relatives and friends, previous to its being-placed in the hearse; for such is the custom. There is something exceedingly alarming in a swoon to a person whowitnesses it for the first time; which was the case with James Cavanagh. Having placed her on the chair, he looked wildly upon her; then aswildly upon those who were crowding round him. "What ails her?" heexclaimed--"what ails her?--she is dead!--she is dead! Dora--Doradear--Dora dear, can't you spake or hear me?"

Whilst he pronounced the words, a shower of tears gushed rapidly fromhis eyes and fell upon her beautiful features, and in the impressivetenderness of the moment, he caught her to his heart, and withrapturous distraction and despair kissed her lips and exclaimed, "She isdead!--she is dead!--an' all that's in the world is nothing to the loveI had for her!"

"Stand aside, James, " said his sister Kathleen; "leave this instantly. Forgive him, Bryan, " she said, looking at her lover with a burning brow, "he doesn't know what he is doing. "

"No, Kathleen, " replied, her brother, with a choking voice, "neither foryou nor for him, nor for a human crature, will I leave her. "

"James, I'm ashamed of you, " said Hanna, rapidly and energeticallydisengaging his arms from about the insensible girl; "have! you norespect for Dora? If you love her as you say, you could hardly act asyou did. "

"Why, " said he, staring at her, "what did I do?"

Bryan took him firmly by the arm, and said, "Come away, you foolish boy;I don't think you know what you did. Leave her to the girls. There, sheis recoverin'. "

She did soon recover; but weak and broken down as she was, no persuasionnor even authority could prevail upon her to remain at home. JemmyBurke, who had intended to offer Kathleen a seat upon his car, which, ofcourse, she would not have accepted, was now outmanoeuvred by hiswife, 'who got Dora beside herself, after having placed a sister of TomM'Mahon's beside him. 

At length, the coffin was brought out, and the keene raised over it, onthe conclusion of which it was placed in the hearse, and the processionbegan to move on. 

There is nothing in the rural districts of this country that so clearlyindicates the respect entertained for any family as the number ofpersons which, when a death takes place in it, attend the funeral. Insuch a case, the length of the procession is the test of esteem in whichthe party has been held. Mrs. M'Mahon's funeral was little less than amile long. All the respectable farmers and bodaghs, as they call them, or half-sirs in the parish, were in attendance, as a mark of, respectfor the virtues of the deceased, and of esteem for the integrityand upright spirit of the family that had been deprived of her sounexpectedly. 

Hycy and his friend, Harry Clinton, of course rode together, Finigan, the schoolmaster, keeping as near them as he could; but not so near asto render his presence irksome to them, when he saw that they had nowish for it. 

"Well, Harry, " said his companion, "what do you think of the lastscene?"

"You allude to Cavanagh's handsome young son, and the very pretty girlthat fainted, poor thing!"

"Of course I do, " replied Hycy. 

"Why, " said the other, "I think the whole thing was very simple, andconsequently very natural. The young fellow, who is desperately inlove--there is no doubt of that--thought she had died; and upon my soul, Hycy, there is a freshness and a purity in the strongest raptures ofsuch a passion, that neither you nor I can dream of. I think, however, I can understand, or guess at rather, the fulness of heart and thetenderness by which he was actuated. "

"What do you think of Miss Cavanagh?" asked Hycy, with more of interestthan he had probably ever felt in her before. 

"What do I think?" said the other, looking at him with a good deal ofsurprise. "What can I think? What could any man, that has either tasteor common-sense think? Faith, Hycy, to be plain with you, I think herone of the finest girls, if not the very finest, I ever saw. Heavens!what would not that girl be if she had received the advantages of apolished and comprehensive education?"

"She is very much of a lady as it is, " added Hycy, "and has greatnatural dignity and unstudied grace, although I must say that she hasleft me under no reason to feel any particular obligations to her. "

"And yet there is a delicate and graceful purity in the beauty of littleDora, which is quite captivating, " observed Clinton. 

"Very well, " replied the other, "I make jou a present of the two fairrustics; give me the interesting Maria. Ah, Harry, see what educationand manner do. Maria is a delightful girl. "

"She is an amiable and a good girl, " said her brother; "but, in point ofpersonal attractions, quite inferior to either of the two we have beenspeaking of. "

"Finigan, " said Hycy--"I beg your pardon, O'Finigan--the greatO'Finigan, Philomath--are you a good judge of beauty?"

"Why, then, Mr. Hycy, " replied the pedagogue, "I think, above allsubjects, that a thorough understanding of that same comes most naturalto an Irishman. It is a pleasant topic to discuss at all times. "

"Much pleasanter than marriage, I think, " said Clinton, smiling. 

"Ah, Mr. Clinton, " replied the other, with a shrug, "_de mortuisnil nisi bonum_; but as touching beauty, in what sense do you ask myopinion?"

"Whether now, for instance, would your learned taste prefer MissCavanagh or Miss Dora M'Mahon? and give your reasons. "

"Taste, Mr. Hycy, is never, or at least seldom, guided by reason; thequestion, however, is a fair one. "

"One at least on a fair subject, " observed Clinton. 

"Very well said, Mr. Clinton, " replied the schoolmaster, with agrin--"there goes wit for us, no less--and originality besides. See whatit is to have a great janius!--ha! ha! ha!"

"Well, Mr. O'Finigan, " pursued Hycy, "but about the ladies? You have notgiven us your opinion. "

"Why, then, they are both highly gifted wid beauty, and stronglycalculated to excite the amorous sentiments of refined and elevatedaffection. "

"Well done, Mr. Plantation, " said Hycy; "you are improving--proceed. "

"Miss Cavanagh, then, " continued Finigan, "I'd say was a goddess, andMiss M'Mahon her attendant nymph. "

"Good again, O'Finigan, " said Clinton; "you are evidently at home in themythology. "

"Among the goddesses, at any rate, " replied the master, with anothergrin. 

"Provided there is no matrimony in the question, " said Clinton. 

"Ah, Mr. Clinton, don't, if you please. That's a subject you may respectyet as much as I do; but regarding my opinion of the two beauties inquestion, why was it solicited, Mr. Hycy?" he added, turning to thatworthy gentlemen. 

"Faith, I'm not able to say, most learned Philomath; only, is it truethat Bryan, the clodhopper, has matrimonial designs upon the fairdaughter of the regal Cavanagh?"

"_Sic vult fama_, Mr. Hycy, upon condition that a certain accomplishedyoung gentleman, whose surname commences with the second letter ofthe alphabet, won't offer--for in that case, it is affirmed, that theclodhopper should travel. By the way, Mr. Clinton, I met your uncle andMr. Fethertonge riding up towards Ahadarra this morning. "

"Indeed!" exclaimed both; and as they spoke, each cast a look of inquiryat the other. 

"What could bring them to Ahadarra, gentlemen?" asked Finigan, in a toneof voice which rendered it a nice point to determine whether it was asimple love of knowledge that induced him to put the question, or someother motive that might have lain within a kind of ironical gravity thataccompanied it. 

"Why, I suppose a pair of good horses, " replied Hycy, "and their owninclination. "

"It was not the last, at all events, " said Finigan, "that ever broughta thief to the gallows--ha! ha! ha! we must be facetious sometimes, Mr. Hycy. "

"You appear to enjoy that joke, Mr. Finigan, " said Hycy, rather tartly. 

"Faith, " replied Finigan, "it's a joke that very few do enjoy, I think. "

"What is?"

"Why, the gallows, sir--ha! ha! ha! but don't forget the O if youplaise--ever and always the big O before Finigan--ha! ha! ha!"

"Come, Clinton, " said Hycy, "move on a little. D--n that fellow!" hecried--"he's a sneering scoundrel; and I'm half inclined to think he hasmore in him than one would be apt to give him credit for. "

"By the way, what could the visit to Ahadarra mean?" asked Clinton. "Doyou know anything about it, Hycy?"

"Not about this; but it is very likely that I shall cause them, orone of them at least, to visit it on some other occasion ere long; andthat's all I can say now. Curse that keening, what a barbarous practiceit is!'

"I think not, " said the other; "on the contrary, I am of opinion thatthere's something strikingly wild and poetical in it something thatargues us Irish to be a people of deep feeling and strong imagination:two of the highest gifts of intellect. "

"All stuff, " replied the accomplished Hycy, who, among his otherexcellent qualities, could never afford to speak a good word to hiscountry Or her people. "All stuff and barbarous howling that welearned from the wolves when we had them in Ireland. Here we are at thegraveyard. "

"Hycy, " said his friend, "it never occurred to me to thing of askingwhat religion you believe in. "

"It is said, " replied Hycy, "that a fool may propose a question whicha wise man can't answer. As to religion, I have not yet made anydetermination among the variety that is abroad. A man, however, canbe at no loss; for as every one of them is the best, it matters littlewhich of them he chooses. I think it likely I shall go to church withyour sister, should we ever do matrimony together. To a man like mewho's indifferent, respectability alone ought to determine. "

Clinton made no reply to this; and in a few minutes afterward theyentered the churchyard, the coffin having been taken out of the hearseand borne on the shoulders of her four nearest relatives, --Tom M'Mahon, in deep silence and affliction, preceding it as chief mourner. 

There is a prostrating stupor, or rather a kind of agonizing deliriumthat comes over the mind when we are forced to mingle with crowds, andhave our ears filled with the voices of lamentation, the sounds of thedeath-bell, or the murmur of many people in conversation. 'Twas thusM'Mahon felt during the whole procession. Sometimes he thought it wasrelief, and again he felt as if it was only the mere alternation ofsuffering into a sharper and more dreadful sorrow; for, change as itmight, there lay tugging at his heart the terrible consciousness thatshe, I the bride of his youthful love and the companion of hislarger and more manly affection--the blameless wife and the stainlesswoman--was about to be consigned to the grave, and that his eyes in thislife must; never rest upon her again. 

When the coffin was about to be lowered down, all the family, one afteranother, clasped their arms about it, and kissed it with a passionatefervor of grief that it was impossible to witness with firmness. Atlength her husband, who had been looking on, approached it, and claspingit in his arms like the rest, he said--"for ever and for ever, and forever, Bridget--but, no, gracious God, no; the day will come, Bridget, when I will be with you here--I don't care now how soon. My happinessis gone, asthore machree--life is nothing to me now--all's empty; andthere's neither joy, nor ease of mind, nor comfort for me any more. An'this is our last parting--this is our last farewell, Bridget dear; butfrom this out my hope is to be with you here; and if nothing else on mybed of death was to console me, it would be, and it will be, that youand I will then sleep together, never to be parted more. That will be myconsolation. "

"Now, father dear, " said Bryan, "we didn't attempt to stop or preventyou, and I hope you'll be something calm and come away for a little. "

"Best of sons! but aren't you all good, for how could you beotherwise with her blood in your veins?--bring me away; come you, Doradarlin'--ay, that's it--support the: blessed child between you andHanna, Kathleen darlin'. Oh, wait, wait till we get out of hearin, orthe noise of the clay fallin' on the coffin will kill me. "

They then walked to some distance, where they remained until the "narrowhouse" was nearly filled, after which they once more surrounded it untilthe last sod was beaten in. This being over, the sorrowing group soughttheir way home with breaking hearts, leaving behind them her whom theyhad loved so well reposing in the cold and unbroken solitude of thegrave. 

CHAPTER XIV. --Mysterious Letter

--Hycy Disclaims Sobriety--Ahadarra's in for it. 

One day about a month after Mrs. M'Mahon's funeral, Harry Clinton wason his way to Jemmy Burke's, when he met Nanny Peety going towardsBallymacan. 

"Well, Nanny, " he inquired, "where are you bound for, now?"

"To the post-office with a letter from Masther Hycy, sir. I wanted himto tell me who it was for, but he would not. Will you, Mr. Clinton?" andshe held out the letter to him as she spoke. 

Clinton felt a good deal surprised to see that it was addressed to hisuncle, and also written in a hand which he did not recognize to be thatof Hycy Burke. 

"Are you sure, Nanny, " he asked, "that this letter was written by Mr. Hycy?"

"Didn't I see him, sir?" she replied; "he wrote it before my eyes aminute before he handed it to me. Who is it for, Mr. Clinton?"

"Why are you so very anxious to know, Nanny?" he inquired. 

"Sorra thing, " she replied, "but curiosity--a woman's curiosity, youknow. "

"Well, Nanny, you know, or ought to know, that it would not be right inme to tell you who the letter is for, when Mr. Hycy did not think properto do so. "

"True enough, sir, " she replied; "an I beg your pardon, Mr. Clinton, forasking you; indeed it was wrong in me to tell you who it came from even, bekaise Mr. Hycy told me not to let any one see it, only jist to slip itinto the post-office unknownst, as I passed it; an' that was what mademe wish to know who it was goin' to, since the thruth must be tould. "

Clinton in turn now felt his curiosity stimulated as to the contentsof this mysterious epistle, and he resolved to watch, if possible, whateffect the perusal of it might have on his uncle, otherwise he was neverlikely to hear a syllable that was contained in it, that worthy relativebeing, from official necessity, a most uncommunicative person in all hisproceedings. 

"I wonder, " observed Clinton, "that Mr. Hycy would send to any one aletter so slurred and blotted with ink as that is. "

"Ay, but he blotted it purposely himself, " replied Nanny, "and that toosurprised me, and made me wish to know what he could mane by it. "

"Perhaps it's a love-letter, Nanny, " said Clinton, laughing. 

"I would like to know who it is to, at any rate, " said the girl; "butsince you won't, tell me, sir, I must try and not lose my rest about it. Good-bye, Mr. Clinton. "

"Good-bye, Nanny;" and so they started. 

Young Clinton, who, though thoughtless and fond of pleasure, was notwithout many excellent points of character, began now to perceive, by every day's successive intimacy, the full extent of Hycy Burke'sprofligacy of morals, and utter want of all honorable principle. Notwithstanding this knowledge, however, he felt it extremely difficult, nay, almost impossible, to separate himself from Hycy, who was anextremely pleasant young fellow, and a very agreeable companion whenhe pleased. He had in fact gained that personal ascendancy over him, orthat licentious influence which too many of his stamp are notorious forexercising over better men than themselves; and he found that he couldnot readily throw Hyoy off, without being considerably a loser by theact. 

"I shall have nothing to do with his profligacy, " said he, "or his wantof principle, and I shall let him know, at all events, that I will notabide by the agreement or compromise entered into between us some timesince at his father's. He shall not injure an honest man for me, norshall I promise him even neutrality with respect to his proposal for mysister, whom I would rather see dead a hundred times than the wife ofsuch a fellow. "

The next morning, about half an hour before breakfast, he told his unclethat he was stepping into town and would bring him any letters thatmight be for him in the post-office. He accordingly did so, and receivedtwo letters, one Hycy's and the other with the crest and frank of thesitting member for the county, who was no other than young Chevydale. His uncle was at breakfast when he handed them to him, and we needhardly say that the M. P. Was honored by instant attention. TheStill-hound read it over very complacently. "Very well, " he exclaimed;"very well, indeed, so far. Harry, we must be on the alert, now theelections are approaching, and Chevydale will be stoutly opposed, itseems. We must work for him, and secure as many votes as we can. Itis our interest to do so, Harry, --and he will make it our interestbesides. "

"Has principle nothing to do with it, sir?"

"Principle! begad, sir, " retorted the uncle, "there's no such thing asprinciple--lay that down as a fact--there's no such thing in this worldas principle. "

"Well, but consistency, uncle. For instance, you know you always vote onthe Tory side, and Chevydale is a Liberal and an Emancipator. "

"Consistency is all d--d stuff, Harry, as principle. What does it mean?why that if a man's once wrong he's always to be wrong--that is just theamount of it. There's Chevydale, for instance, he has a brother who is arank Tory and a Commissioner of Excise, mark that; Chevydale and he playinto each other's hands, and Chevydale some of these days will sell theLiberals, that is, if he can get good value for them. If I now vote onthe Tory side against Chevydale, his brother, the Tory Commissioner, will be my enemy in spite of all his Toryism; but if I vote and exertmyself for Chevydale, the Liberal, I make his Tory of a brother myfriend for life. And now, talk to me about principle, or consistencyeither. "

His nephew could not but admit, that the instances adduced by his unclewere admirably calculated to illustrate his argument, and he accordinglypursued the subject no further. 

"Ay!" exclaimed the Still-hound, "what d--d scrawl have we got here? Ay, ay, why this is better than I expected. "

"What is better, uncle?" said the nephew, venturing an experiment. 

"Why, " replied the sagacious old rascal, "for you to mind your business, if you have any, and to let me mind mine, without making impertinentinquiries, Master Harry. " With these words he went and. Locked up bothletters in his desk. As we, however, possess the power of unlocking hisdesk, and reading the letter to boot, we now take the liberty of layingit in all its graphic beauty and elegance before our readers--

"To MISTHER KLINTON, SIR:

"Af you go this nite bout seven clocks or thereaway, you'd find aStill-Hed an' Worm At full work, in they tipper End iv The brown Glen inAhadarra. Sir, thrum wan iv Die amstrung's Orringemen an' a fren to theaxshize. "

The gauger after breakfast again resumed the conversation as follows:--

"Have you changed your mind, Harry, regarding the Excise? because if youhave I think I may soon have an opportunity of getting you a berth. "

"No, sir, I feel an insurmountable repugnance to the life of aStill--hem. "

"Go on, man, to the life of a Still-hunter. Very well. Your father'sdeath last year left you and your sister there dependent upon me, forthe present at least; for what could a medical man only rising intopractice, with a, family to support and educate, leave behind him?"

"Unfortunately, sir, it is too true. "

"In the mean time you may leave 'unfortunate' out, and thank God thatyou had the shelter of my roof to come to; and be on your knees, too, that I was a bachelor. Well, I am glad myself that I had and have a homefor you; but still, Harry, you ought to think of doing something foryourself; for I may not live always, you know, and beside I am not rich. You don't relish surgery, you say?"

"I can't endure it, uncle. "

"But you like farming?"

"Above every other mode of life. "

"Very well, I think it's likely I shall have a good farm to put you intobefore long. "

"Thank you, uncle. You may rest assured that both Maria and myself arefully sensible of the kindness we have experienced at your hands. "

"Small thanks to me for that. Who the devil would I assist, if not mybrother's orphans? It is true, I despise the world, but still we mustmake our use of it. I know it consists of only knaves and fools. Now, Irespect the knaves; for if it were'nt for their roguery, the world wouldnever work; it would stand still and be useless. The fools I despise, not so much because they are fools, as because they would be knaves ifthey could; so that, you see I return again to my favorite principle ofhonesty. I am going to Ballymacan on business, so good-bye to you both. "

"Uncle, " said his nephew, "one word with you before you go. "

"What is it?"

"Would you suffer me to offer you a word of advice, and will you excuseme for taking such a liberty with a man of your experience?"

"Certainly, Harry, and shall always feel thankful to any one that givesme good advice. "

"If this is not good advice, it is at least well intended. "

"Let us hear it first, and then we shall judge better. "

"You say you will procure me a farm. Now, uncle, there is one thingI should wish in connection with that transaction, which is, that youwould have no underhand--hem!--no private understanding of any kind withMr. Hycy Burke. "

"Me a private understanding with Hycy Burke! What in the devil's namehas put such a crotchet as that into your head?"

"I only speak as I do, because I believe you have received a privatecommunication from him. "

"Have I, faith! If so I am obliged to you--but I am simply ignorant ofthe fact you mention; for, with my own knowledge', I never received aline from him in my life. "

"Then I must be wrong, " replied Harry; "that is all. "

"Wrong! Certainly you are wrong. Hycy Burke, I am told, is a compoundof great knave and gross fool, the knavery rather prevailing. But how isthis? Are not you and he inseparable?"

"He is a companion, uncle, but not a friend in the true sense--nor, indeed, in any sense of that word. I spoke now, however, with referenceto a particular transaction, and not to his general character. "

"Well, then, I have no underhand dealings with him, as you are pleasedto call them, nor ever had. I never to my knowledge received a line fromhim in my life; but I tell you that if he comes in my way, and that Ican make use of him, I will. Perhaps he may serve us in the Elections. Have you anything else to ask?"

"No sir, " replied Harry, laughing. "Only I hope you will excuse me forthe liberty I took. "

"Certainly, with all my heart, and you shall be always welcome to takethe same liberty. Good-bye, again. "

Clinton now felt satisfied that Hycy's letter to his uncle was ananonymous one, and although he could not divine its contents, hestill felt assured that it was in some way connected with the farmtransaction, or at all events detrimental to Bryan M'Mahon. Heconsequently resolved to see Hycy, against whom, or rather againstwhose principles he was beginning to entertain a strong repugnance, andwithout any hesitation to repudiate the engagement he had entered intowith him. 

He found Hycy at home, or rather he found him in conversation with BatHogan behind his father's garden. 

"What was that ruffian wanting with you, Hycy, if it's a fair question?"

"Perfectly, " said Hycy, "from you; but not in sooth from your worthyuncle. "

"How is that?"

"Simply, he wants to know if I'd buy a keg of Poteen which, it seems, hehas to sell. I declined because I have a sufficiently ample stock of iton hands. "

"My uncle, " said Clinton, prefers it to any other spirits; indeed, athome he never drinks any other, and whenever he dines, thanks those whogive it the preference. "

"Come in, and let us have a glass of poteen grog, in the mean time, "said Hycy, "for it's better still in grog than in punch. It's a famousrelish for a slice of ham; but, as the Scotch say, baith's best. "

Having discussed the grog and ham, the conversation went on. 

"Hycy, " proceeded his companion, "with respect to that foolisharrangement or bargain we made the other night, I won't have anythingto say or do in it. You shall impoverish or ruin no honest man on myaccount. I was half drunk or whole drunk, otherwise I wouldn't havelistened to such a proposal. "

"What do you mean?" said Hycy, with a look of very natural surprise, anda pause of some time, "I don't understand you. "

"Don't you remember the foolish kind of stipulation we entered into withreference to M'Mahon's farm, of Ahadarra, on the one hand, and my mostamiable (d--n me but I ought to be horsewhipped for it) sister on theother?"

"No, " replied Hycy, "devil a syllable. My word and honor, Harry. "

"Well, if you don't, then, it's all right. You didn't appear to betipsy, though. "

"I never do, Harry. In that respect I'm the d--dest, hypocritical rascalin Europe. I'm a perfect phenomenon; for, in proportion as I get drunkin intellect, I get sober both in my carriage and appearance. However, in Heaven's name let me know the bargain if there was one?"

"No, no, " replied his friend, "it was a disgraceful affair on bothsides, and the less that's said of it the better. "

By some good deal of persuasion, however, and an additional glassof grog, he prevailed on Clinton to repeat the substance of thestipulation; on hearing which, as if for the first time, he laughed veryheartily. 

"This liquor, " he proceeded, "is a strange compound, and puts queernotions into our head. Why if there's an honest decent fellow in Europe, whom I would feel anxious to serve beyond another, next to yourself, Harry, it is Bryan M'Mahon. But why I should have spoken so, I can'tunderstand at all. In the first place, what means have of injuringthe man? And what is stronger still, what inclination have I, or couldhave--and what is still better--should have?"

"I do assure you it did not raise you in my opinion. "

"Faith, no wonder, Harry, and I am only surprised you didn't speak to mesooner about it. Still, " he proceeded, smiling, 'there is one portionof it I should not wish to see cancelled--I mean your advocacy with MissClinton. "

"To be plain with you, Hycy, I wash my hands out of that affair too; Iwon't promise advocacy. "

"Well neutrality?"

"The truth is, neither neutrality nor advocacy would avail a rush. I have reason to think that my sister's objections against you areinsuperable. "

"On what do they rest?" asked the other. 

"They are founded upon your want of morals, " replied Clinton. 

"Well, suppose I reform my morals?"

"That is, substitute hypocrisy for profligacy; I fear, Hycy, theelements of reformation are rather slight within you. "

"Seriously, you do me injustice; and, besides, a man ought not to bejudged of his morals before marriage, but after. "

"Faith, both before and after, in my opinion, Hycy. No well-educated, right-minded girl would marry a man of depraved morals, knowing him tobe such. "

"But I really am not worse than others, nor so bad as many. Neitherhave I the reputation of being an immoral man. A little wild andover-impulsive from animal spirits I may be, but all that will pass offwith the new state. No, no, d--n it, don't allow Miss Clinton to imbibesuch prejudices. I do not say that I am a saint; but I shall settle downand bring her to church very regularly, and hear the sermon with mostedifying attention. Another glass of grog?"

"No, no. "

"But I hope and trust, my dear Harry, that you have not been makingimpressions against me. "

"Unquestionably not. I only say you have no chance whatever in thatquarter. "

"Will you allow me to try?" asked Hycy. 

"I have not the slightest objection, " replied the other, "because Iknow how it will result. "

"Very well, --thank you even for that same, my dear Harry; but, seriouslyspeaking, I fear that neither you nor I are leading the kind of lives weought, and so far I cannot quarrel with your sister's principles. Onthe contrary, they enable me to appreciate her if possible still morehighly; for a clear and pure standard of morals in a wife is not onlythe best fortune but the best security for happiness besides. You mightstop and dine?"

"No, thank you, it is impossible. By the way, I have already spoiled mydinner with that splendid ham of yours. Give me a call when in town. "

Hycy, after Clinton's departure, began to review his own position. Ofultimately succeeding with Miss Clinton he entertained little doubt. Sohigh and confident was his vanity, that he believed himself capable ofperforming mighty feats, and achieving great successes, with the fairsex, --all upon the strength of having destroyed the reputation of twoinnocent country girls. Somehow, notwithstanding his avowed attachmentfor Miss Clinton, he could not help now and then reverting to therich beauty and magnificent form of Kathleen Cavanagh; nor was thiscontemplation of his lessened by considering that, with all hisgentlemanly manners, and accomplishments, and wealth to boot, shepreferred the clod-hopper, as he called Bryan M'Mahon, to himself. 

He felt considerably mortified at this reflection, and the moreespecially, as he had been frequently taunted with it and laughed atfor it by the country girls, whenever he entered into any banteringconversation. A thought now struck him by which he could, as heimagined, execute a very signal revenge upon M'Mahon through Kathleen, and perhaps, ultimately upon Kathleen herself, if he should succeedwith Miss Clinton; for he did not at all forgive Kathleen the two publicinstances of contempt with which she had treated him. There was still, however, another consideration. His father had threatened to bring homehis brother Edward, then destined for the church, and altogether tochange his intentions in that respect. Indeed, from the dry and causticmanner of the old man towards him of late, he began to entertainapprehensions upon the subject. Taking therefore all these circumstancesinto consideration, he resolved in any event to temporize a little, andallow the father to suppose that he might be prevailed upon to marryKathleen Cavanagh. 

In the course of that evening, after dinner, while his father and hewere together and his mother not present, he introduced the subjecthimself. 

"I think, Mr. Burke, if I remember correctly, you proposed somethinglike a matrimonial union between the unrivalled Katsey Cavanagh and theaccomplished Hycy. "

"I did, God forgive me. "

"I have been thinking over that subject since. "

"Have you, indeed, " said his father; "an' am I to make Ned a priest or afarmer?" he asked, dryly. 

"The church, I think, Mr. Burke, is, or ought to be, his destination. "

"So, after all, you prefer to have my money and my property, along wida good wife, to your brother Ned--Neddy I ought to call him, out ofcompliment to you--ha! ha! ha!"

"Proceed, Mr. Burke, you are pleased to be facetious. "

"To your brother Ned--Neddy--having them, and maybe along wid them thesame, wife too?"

"No, not exactly; but out of respect to your wishes. 

"What's that?" said the old man, staring at him with a kind of comicgravity--"out of respect to my wishes!"

"That's what I've said, " replied the son. "Proceed. "

His father looked at' him again, and replied, "Proceed yourself---it wasyou introduced the subject. I'm now jack-indifferent about it. "

"All I have to say, " continued Hycy, "is that I withdraw my ultimaterefusal, Mr. Burke. I shall entertain the question, as they say; andit is not improbable but that I may dignify the fair Katsey with thehonorable title of Mrs. Burke. "

"I wish you had spoken a little sooner, then, " replied his father, "bekaise it so happens that Gerald Cavanagh an' I have the match betweenher and your brother Ned as good as made. "

"My brother Ned! Why, in the name of; all that's incredible, how couldthat be encompassed?"

"Very aisily, " said his father, "by the girl's waitin' for him. Ned israther young! yet, I grant you; he's nineteen, however, and two yearsmore, you know, will make him one-and-twenty--take him out o' chancery, as they say. "

"Very good, Mr. Burke, very good; in that case I have no more to say. "

"Well, " pursued the father, in the same dry, half-comic, half-sarcasticvoice, "but what do you intend to do with yourself?"

"As to that, " replied Hycy, who felt that the drift of the conversationwas setting in against him, "I shall take due time to consider. "

"What height are you?" asked the father, rather abruptly. 

"I can't see, Mr. Burke, I really can't see what my height has to dowith the question. "

"Bekaise, " proceeded the other, "I have some notion of putting you intothe army. You spoke of it wanst yourself, remimber; but then there's anobjection even to that. "

"Pray, what is the objection, Mr. Burke?"

"Why, it's most likely you'd have to fight--if you took to the milintarytrade. "

"Why, upon my word, Mr. Burke, you shine in the sarcastic this evening. "

"But, at any rate, you must take your chance for that. You're a fine, active young fellow, and I suppose if they take to runnin' you won't bethe last of them. "

"Good, Mr. Burke--proceed, though. "

"An accordingly I have strong notions of buying you a corplar's ora sargent's commission. A good deal of that, however, depends uponyourself; but, as you say, I'll think of it. "

Hycy, who could never bear ridicule, especially from the very man whomhe attempted to ridicule most, bounced up, and after muttering somethingin the shape of an oath that was unintelligible, said, assuming all hispolite irony:--

"Do so, Mr. Burke; in the mean time I have the pleasure of wishing you avery good evening, sir. "

"Oh, a good-evening, sir, " replied the old fellow, "and when you comehome from the wars a full non-commissioned officer, you'll be scowerin'up your halbert every Christmas an' Aisther, I hope; an' telling us longstories--of all you killed an' ate while you were away from us. "

Harry Clinton, now aware that the anonymous letter which his uncle hadreceived that morning was the production of Hycy, resolved to watch thegauger's motions very closely. After a great deal of reflection uponHycy's want of memory concerning their bargain, and upon a closecomparison between his conduct and whole manner on the night inquestion, and his own account of the matter in the course of their lastinterview, he could not help feeling that his friend had stated a grossfalsehood, and that the pretended want of recollection was an ingeniousafter-thought, adopted for the purpose of screening himself from theconsequences of whatever injury he might inflict upon Bryan M'Mahon. 

"Harry, " said his uncle, as nine o'clock approached, "I am going uponduty tonight. "

"In what direction, sir? may I ask. "

"Yes, you may, but I'm not bound to tell you. In this instance, however, there is no necessity for secrecy; it is now too late to give ourgentleman the hard word, so I don't care much if I do tell you. I ambound for Ahadarra. "

"For Ahadarra--you say for Ahadarra, uncle?"

"I do, nephew. "

"By heavens, he is the deepest and most consummate scoundrelalive, " exclaimed Harry; "I now see it all. Uncle, I wish to God youwould--would---I don't know what to say. "

"That's quite evident, nor what to think either. In the mean time thesoldiers are waiting for me in Ballymacan, and so I must attend to myduty, Harry. "

"Is it upon the strength of the blotted letter you got this morning, sir, that you are now acting"?"

"No, sir; but upon the strength of a sure spy dispatched this day to thepremises. I am a little too shrewd now, Master Harry, to act solely uponanonymous information. I have been led too many devil's dances by it inmy time, to be gulled in my old age on the strength of it. "

He immediately prepared himself for the excursion, mounted his horse, that was caparisoned in a military saddle, the holsters furnished with acase of pistols, which, with a double case that he had on his person andtwo daggers, constituted his weapons of offence and defence. 

Their path lay directly to the south for about two miles. Havingtraversed this distance they reached cross-roads, one of which branchedtowards the left and was soon lost in a rough brown upland, intowhich it branched by several little pathways that terminated in littlevillages or solitary farmer's houses. For about two miles more they wereobliged to cross a dark reach of waste moor, where the soil was strongand well capable of cultivation. Having avoided the villages and morepublic thoroughfares, they pushed upward until they came into the blackheath itself, where it was impossible that horses could travel in suchdarkness as then prevailed; for it was past ten o'clock, near the closeof December. Clinton consequently left his horse in the care of twosoldiers on a bit of green meadow by the side of Ahadarra Lough--a smalltarn or mountain lake about two hundred yards in diameter. They thenpushed up a long round swelling hill, on the other side of which wasa considerable stretch of cultivated land with Bryan M'Mahon's new andimproved houses at the head of it. This they kept to their right untilthey came in sight of the wild but beautiful and picturesque Glen ofAlthadhawan, which however was somewhat beyond the distance they had togo. At length, after breasting another hill which was lost in the baseof Cullimore, they dropped down rapidly into a deep glen through whichran a little streamlet that took its rise not a quarter of a mile abovethem, and which supplied the apparatus for distillation with soft clearwater. This they followed until near the head of the glen, where, in aposition which might almost escape even a gauger's eye, they found theobject of their search. 

Tumbled around them in all directions were a quantity of giganticrocks thrown as it were at random during some Titanic war-fare ordiversion--between two of which the still-house was built in such a way, that, were it not for the smoke in daylight, it would be impossibleto discover it, or at all events, to suppose that it could be thereceptacle of a human being. 

On entering, Clinton and his men were by no means surprised to findthe place deserted, for this in fact was frequently the case on suchoccasions. On looking through the premises, which they did by the lightof a large fire, they found precisely that which had been mentioned inHycy's letter--to wit, the Still, the Head, and the Worm; but with theexception of an old broken rundlet or two, and a crazy vessel of washthat was not worth removing, there was nothing whatsoever besides. 

The Still was on the fire half filled with water, the Head was on theStill, and the Worm was attached to the Head precisely as if they werein the process of distillation. 

"Ay, " said Clinton, on seeing how matters stood, "I think I understandthis affair. It's a disappointment in one sense--but a sure enough cardin another. The fine is certain, and Ahadarra is most undoubtedly in forit. "

CHAPTER XV. --State of the Country

--Hycy's Friendship for Bryan M'Mahon--Bryan's Interview with hisLandlord. 

M'Mahon's last interview with Fethertonge was of so cheering a nature, and indicated on the part of that gentleman so much true and sterlingkindness towards the young man and his family, that he felt perfectlysatisfied on leaving him, and after having turned their conversationover in his mind, that he might place every confidence in the assurancehe had given him. His father, too, who had never for a moment doubtedFeathertonge, felt equally gratified at Bryan's report of theirinterview, as indeed did the whole family; they consequently sparedneither labor nor expense in the improvements which they were making ontheir farms. 

The situation of the country and neighborhood at this period was indeedpeculiar, and such as we in this unhappy country have experiencedboth before and since. I have already stated, that there was a partialfailure of the potato crop that season, a circumstance which uniformlyis the forerunner of famine and sickness. The failure, however, on thatoccasion was not caused by a blight in the haulm, or to use plainerwords, by a sudden withering of the stalks, but by large portions of theseed failing to grow. The partial scarcity, however, occasioned by this, although it did not constitute what can with propriety be termed famine, cause the great mass of pauperism which such a season always extends andincreases, to press so heavily upon the struggling farmers, that theirpatience and benevolence became alike tired out and exhausted. Thisperpetually recurring calamity acts with a most depressing effectupon those persons in the country who have any claim to be consideredindependent. It deprives them of hope, and consequently of energy, andby relaxing the spirit of industry which has animated them, tends inthe course of time to unite them to the great body of pauperism whichoppresses and eats up the country. But let us not be misunderstood. Thisevil alone is sufficiently disastrous to the industrial energies ofthe class we mention; but when, in addition to this, the hithertoindependent farmer has to contend with high rents, want of sympathy inhis landlord, who probably is ignorant of his very existence, and hasnever seen him perhaps in his life; and when it is considered that he isleft to the sharp practice and pettifogging, but plausible rapacity ofa dishonest agent, who feels that he is irresponsible, and may act thepetty tryant and vindictive oppressor if he wishes, having no restraintover his principles but his interest, which, so far from restraining, only guides and stimulates them;--when we reflect upon all this, andfeel, besides, that the political principles upon which the country isgoverned are those that are calculated to promote British at the expenseof Irish interests--we say, when we reflect upon and ponder over allthis, we need not feel surprised that the prudent, the industrious, and the respectable, who see nothing but gradual decline and ultimatepauperism before them--who feel themselves neglected and overlooked, and know that every sixth or seventh year they are liable to thoseoppressive onsets of distress, sickness, and famine--we need not, werepeat, feel at all surprised that those who constitute this industriousand respectable class should fly from the evils which surround them, andabandon, whilst they possess the power of doing so, the country in whichsuch evils are permitted to exist. 

It is upon this principle, or rather upon these principles, and forthese reasons, that the industry, the moral feeling, the independence, and the strength of the country have been passing out of it foryears--leaving it, season after season, weaker, more impoverished, andless capable of meeting those periodical disasters which, we may almostsay, are generated by the social disorder and political misrule of thecountry. 

The fact is, and no reasonable or honest man capable of disencumberinghimself of political prejudices can deny it, that up until a recentperiod the great body of the Irish people--the whole people--were mainlylooked upon and used as political instruments in the hands of thehigher classes, but not at all entitled to the possession of separate orindependent interests in their own right. It is true they were allowedthe possession of the forty-shilling franchise; but will any man saythat the existence of that civil right was a benefit to the country? Sofar from that, it was a mere engine of corruption, and became, inthe hands of the Irish landlords, one of the most oppressive anddemoralizing curses that ever degraded a people. Perjury, fraud, falsehood, and dishonesty, were its fruits, and the only legacy itleft to the country was an enormous mass of pauperism, and a nationalmorality comparatively vitiated and depraved, in spite of all religiousinfluence and of domestic affections that are both strong and tender. Indeed it is exceedingly difficult to determine whether it has been moreinjurious to the country in a political than in a moral sense. Be thatas it may, it had a powerful effect in producing the evils that we nowsuffer, and our strong tendencies to social disorganization. By it thelandlords were induced, for the sake of multiplying, votes, to encouragethe subdivision of small holdings into those that were actually onlynominal or fictitious, and the consequences were, that in multiplyingvotes they were multiplying families that had no fixed means ofsubsistence--multiplying in fact a pauper population--multiplying notonly perjury, fraud, falsehood, and dishonesty, but destitution, misery, disease and death. By the forty-shilling franchise, the landlordsencumbered the soil with a loose and unsettled population thatpossessed within itself, as poverty always does, a fearful facility ofreproduction--a population which pressed heavily upon the independentclass of farmers and yeomen, but which had no legal claim upon theterritory of the country. The moment, however, when the system whichproduced and ended this wretched class, ceased to exist, they became notonly valueless in a political sense, but a dead weight upon the energiesof the country, and an almost insuperable impediment to its prosperity. This great evil the landlords could conjure up, but they have not beenable to lay it since. Like Frankenstein in the novel, it pursues them tothe present moment, and must be satisfied or appeased in some way, orit will unquestionably destroy them. From the abolition of the franchiseuntil now, an incessant struggle of opposing interests has been going onin the country. The "forties" and their attendants must be fed; but thesoul on which they live in its present state is not capable of at thesame time supporting them and affording his claims to the landlord; forthe food must go to England to pay the rents and the poor "forties" muststarve. They are now in the way of the landlord--they are now in the wayof the farmer--they are in fact in way of each other, and unless somewholesome and human principle, either of domestic employment or colonialemigration, or perhaps both, shall be adopted, they will continue toembarrass the country, and to drive out of it, always in connection withother causes, the very class of persons that constitute its remainingstrength. 

At the present period of our narrative the neighborhood of Ballymacanwas in an unsettled and distressful state. The small farmers, and suchas held from six to sixteen acres, at a rent which they could at anyperiod with difficulty pay, were barely able to support themselves andtheir families upon the produce of their holdings, so that the claimsof the landlord were out of the question. Such a position as this to theunhappy class we speak of, is only another name for ruin. The bailiff, who always lives upon the property, seeing their condition, and knowingthat they are not able to meet the coming gale, reports accordinglyto the agent, who, now cognizant that there is only one look-up for therent, seizes the poor man's corn and cattle, leaving himself andhis family within cold walls, and at an extinguished hearth. In thiscondition were a vast number in the neighborhood of the locality laid inour narrative. The extraordinary, but natural anxiety for holding land, and the equally ardent spirit of competition which prevails in thecountry, are always ready arguments in the mouth of the landlord andagent, when they wish to raise the rent or eject the tenant. "If youwon't pay me such a rent, there are plenty that will. I have beenoffered more than you pay, and more than I ask, and you know I must lookto my own interests!" In this case it is very likely that the landlordspeaks nothing but the truth; and as he is pressed on by his necessitieson the one hand, and the tenant on the other, the state of a country socircumstanced with respect to landed property and its condition may beeasily conceived. 

In addition, however, to all we have already detailed, as affectingthe neighborhood of Ahadarra, we have to inform our readers that thetenantry upon the surrounding property were soon about to enjoy theluxury of a contested election. Chevydale had been the sitting memberduring two sessions of Parliament. He was, as we have already stated, an Emancipator and Liberal; but we need scarcely say that he did notget his seat upon these principles. He had been a convert to Liberalismsince his election, and at the approaching crisis stood, it was thought, but an indifferent chance of being re-elected. The gentleman who had satbefore was a sturdy Conservative, a good deal bigoted in politics, butpossessing that rare and inestimable quality, or rather combination ofqualities which constitute an honest man. He was a Major Vanston, a manof good property, and although somewhat deficient in the _suaviter inmodo_, yet in consequence of his worth and sincerity, he was rather afavorite with the people, who in general relish sincerity and honestywherever they find them in public men. 

Having thus far digressed, we now beg leave to resume our narrative andonce more return, from the contemplation of a state of things so painfulto the progress of those circumstances which involve the fate of ourhumble individuals who constitute our _dramatis personae_. 

The seizure of the distillery apparatus on M'Mahon's farm of Ahadarra, was in a few days followed by knowledge of the ruin in which it mustnecessarily involve that excellent and industrious young man. Atthis time there was an act of parliament in existence against illicitdistillation, but of so recent a date that it was only when a seizuresimilar to the foregoing had been made, that the people in anyparticular district became acquainted with it. By this enactment theoffending individual was looked upon as having no farther violatedthe laws in that case made and provided, than those who had never beenengaged in such pursuits at all. In other words, the innocent, wereequally punished with the guilty. A heavy fine was imposed--not on theoffender, but on the whole townland in which he lived; so that theguilt of one individual was not visited as it ought to have been on theculprit himself, but equally distributed in all its penalties upon theother inhabitants of the district in question, who may have had neitheract nor part in any violation of the laws whatsoever. 

Bryan M'Mahon, on discovering the fearful position in which it placedhim, scarcely knew on what hand to turn. His family were equallyalarmed, and with just reason. Illicit distillation had been carried toincredible lengths for the last two or three years, and the statute inquestion was enacted with, a hope that it might unite the people in akind of legal confederacy against a system so destructive of industryand morals. The act, however ill-judged, and impolitic at best, was notmerely imperative, --but fraught with ruin and bloodshed. Itimmediately became the engine of malice and revenge between individualenemies--often between rival factions, and not unfrequently betweenparties instigated against each other by political rancor and hatred. Indeed, so destructive of the lives and morals of the people was itfound, that in the course of a very few years it was repealed, but notuntil it had led to repeated murders and brought ruin and destructionupon many an unoffending and industrious family. 

Bryan now bethought him of the warnings he had received from the gaugerand Fethertonge, and resolved to see both, that he; might be enabled, if possible, to trace to its source the plot that had been laid, forhis destruction. He accordingly went down to his father's at Carriglass, where he had not been long when Hycy Burke made his appearance, "Havingcome that far on his way, " he said, "to see him, and to ascertainthe truth of the report that had gone abroad respecting the heavyresponsibility under which the illicit distillation had placed him. "Bryan was naturally generous and without suspicion; but notwithstandingthis, it was impossible that he should not entertain some slightsurmises touching the sincerity of Burke. 

"What is this, Bryan?" said the latter. "Can it be possible that you'rein for the Fine, as report goes?"

"It's quite possible, " replied Bryan; "on yesterday I got a notice ofproceedings from the Board of Excise. "

"But, " pursued his friend, "what devil could have tempted you to haveanything to do with illicit distillation? Didn't you know the danger ofit?"

"I had no more to do with it, " replied Bryan, "than you had--nor I don'teven rightly know yet who had; though, indeed, I believe I may say itwas these vagabonds, the Hogans, that has their hands in everythingthat's wicked and disgraceful. They would ruin me if they could, " saidBryan, "and I suppose it was with the hope of doing so that they set upthe still where they did. "

"Well, now, " replied Hycy, with an air of easy and natural generosity, "I should be sorry to think so: they are d--d scoundrels, or rathercommon ruffians, I grant you; but still, Bryan, I don't like to suspecteven such vagabonds without good grounds. Bad as we know them to be, Ihave my doubts whether they are capable of setting about such an actfor the diabolical purpose of bringing you to ruin. Perhaps they merelydeemed the place on your farm a convenient one to build a still-housein, and that they never thought further about it. "

"Or what, " replied Bryan, "if there was some one behind their backs whois worse than themselves? Mightn't sich a thing as that be possible?"

"True, " replied Hycy, "true, indeed--that's not improbable. Stay--no--well it may be--but--no--I can't think it. "

"What is it you can't think?"

"Why, such a thing might be, " proceeded Hycy, "if you have an enemy; butI think, Bryan, you are too well liked--and justly so too--if you willexcuse me for saying so to your face--to have any enemy capable of goingsuch nefarious lengths as that. "

Bryan paused and seemed a good deal struck with the truth of Hycy'sobservation--"There's raison, sure enough in what you say, Hycy, " heobserved. "I don't know that I have a single enemy--unless theHogans themselves--that would feel any satisfaction in drivin' me todestruction. "

"And besides, " continued Hycy, "between you and me now, Bryan, who thedevil with an ounce of sense in his head would trust such scoundrels, orput himself in their power?"

Bryan considered this argument a still more forcible one than the other. 

"That's stronger still, " Re replied, "and indeed I am inclined tothink that after all, Hycy, it happened as you say. Teddy Phats I thinknothing at all about, for the poor, misshapen vagabone will distilpoteen for any one that employs him. "

"True, " replied the other, "I agree with you; but what's to be done, Bryan? for that's the main point now. "

"I scarcely know, " replied Bryan, who now began to feel nothing butkindness towards Hycy, in consequence of the interest which that youngfellow evidently took in his misfortune, for such, in serious truth, itmust be called. "I am the only proprietor of Ahadarra, " he proceeded, "and, as a matter of course, the whole fine falls on my shoulders. "

"Ay, that's the devil of it; but at all events, Bryan, there is nothinggot in this world without exertion and energy. Mr. Chevydale, the Member, is now at home: he has come down to canvass for thecoming-election. I would recommend you to see him at once. You know--butperhaps you don't though--that his brother is one of the Commissionersof Excise; so that I don't know any man who can serve you moreeffectually than Chevydale, if he wishes. "

"But what could he do?" asked Bryan. 

"Why, by backing a memorial from you, stating the particulars, andmaking out a strong case, he might get the fine reduced. I shall draw upsuch a memorial if you wish. "

"Thank you, Hycy--I'm obliged to you--these, I dare say, will be theproper steps to take--thank you. "

"Nonsense! but perhaps I may serve you a little in another way. I'mvery intimate with Harry Clinton, and who knows but I may be able toinfluence the uncle a little through the nephew. "

"It's whispered that you might do more through the niece, " repliedBryan, laughing; "is that true?"

"Nonsense, I tell you, " replied Hycy, affecting confusion; "for Heaven'ssake, Bryan, say nothing about that; how did it come to your ears?"

"Faith, and that's more than I can tell you, " replied the other; "but Iknow I heard it somewhere of late. "

"It's not a subject, of course, " continued Hycy, "that I should wish tobecome the topic of vulgar comment or conversation, and I'd much ratheryou would endeavor to discountenance it whenever you hear it spoken of. At all events, whether with niece or nephew, " proceeded Hycy, "you mayrest assured, that whatever service I can render you, I shall notfail to do it. You and I have had a slight misunderstanding, but onan occasion like this, Bryan, it should be a bitter one indeed that aman--a generous man at least, --would or ought to remember. "

This conversation took place whilst Bryan was proceeding toFethertonge's, Hycy being also on his way home. On arriving at the turnof the road which led to Jemmy Burke's, Hycy caught the hand of hiscompanion, which he squeezed with an affectionate warmth, so cordial andsincere in its character that Bryan cast every shadow of suspicion tothe winds, "Cheer up, Bryan, all will end better than you think, I hope. I shalldraw up a memorial for you this evening, as strongly and forcibly aspossible, and any other assistance that I can render you in this unhappydifficulty I will do it. I know I am about ninety pounds in your debt, and instead of talking to you in this way, or giving you fair words, I ought rather to pay you your money. The 'gentleman, ' however, isimpracticable for the present, but I trust--"

"Not a word about it, " said Bryan, "you'll oblige me if you'll drop thatpart of the subject; but listen, Hycy, --I think you're generous and alittle extravagant, and both is a good man's case--but that's not whatI'm going to spake about, truth's best at all times; I heard that youwere my enemy, and I was desired to be on my guard against you. "

Hycy looked at him with that kind of surprise which is natural to aninnocent man, and simply said, "May I ask by whom, Bryan?"

"I may tell you some other time, " replied Bryan, "but I won't now; all Ican say is, that I don't believe it, and I'm sure that ought to satisfyyou. "

"I shall expect you to tell me, Bryan, " said the other, and then afterreturning a few steps, he caught M'Mahon's hand again, and shakingit warmly, once more added, "God bless you, Bryan; you are a generoushigh-minded young fellow, and I only wish I was like you. "

Bryan, after they had separated, felt that Hycy's advice was the verybest possible under the circumstances, and as he had heard for the firsttime that Chevydale was in the country, he resolved to go at once andstate to him the peculiar grievance under which he labored. 

Chevydale's house was somewhat nearer Ahadarra than Fethertonge's, buton the same line of road, and he accordingly proceeded to the residenceof his landlord. The mansion indeed was a fine one. It stood on the browof a gentle eminence, which commanded a glorious prospect of rich andhighly cultivated country. Behind, the landscape rose gradually untilit terminated in a range of mountains that protected the house fromthe north. The present structure was modern, having been built by oldChevydale, previous to his marriage. It was large and simple, but somajestic in appearance, that nothing could surpass the harmony thatsubsisted between its proportions and the magnificent old trees whichstudded the glorious lawn that surrounded, it, and rose in thickextensive masses that stretched far away behind the house. It stood in apark, which for the beauties of wood and. Water was indeed worthy of itsfine simplicity and grandeur--a park in which it was difficult to saywhether the beautiful, the picturesque, or the wild, predominated most. And yet in this princely residence Mr. Chevydale did not reside morethan a month, or at most two, during the whole year. 

On reaching the hall-door, M'Mahon inquired from the servant whoappeared, if he could see Mr. Chevydale. 

"I'm afraid not, " said the servant, "but I will see; what's your name?"

"Bryan M'Mahon, of Ahadarra, one of his tenants. "

The servant returned to him in a few moments, and said, "Yes, he willsee you; follow me. "

Bryan entered a library, where he found his landlord and Fethertongeapparently engaged in business, and as he was in the act of doing so, heoverheard Chevydale saying--"No, no, I shall always see my tenants. "

Bryan made his obeisance in his own plain way, and Chevydale said--"Areyou M'Mahon of Ahadarra?"

"I am, sir, " replied Bryan. 

"I thought you were a much older man, " said Chevydale, "there certainlymust be, some mistake here, " he added, looking at Fethertonge. 

"M'Mahon of Ahadarra was a middle-aged man several years ago, but thisperson is young enough to be his man. "

"You speak of his uncle, " replied Fethertonge, "who is dead. Thisyoung man, who now owns his uncle's farm, is son to Thomas M'Mahon ofCarriglass. How is your father, M'Mahon? I hope he bears up well underhis recent loss. "

"Indeed but poorly, sir, " replied Bryan, "I fear he'll never be the sameman. "

Chevydale here took to reading a newspaper, and in a minute or twoappeared to be altogether unconscious of Bryan's presence. 

"I'm afeard, sir, " said Bryan, addressing himself to the agent, who wasthe only person likely to hear him, "I'm afeard, sir, that I've got intotrouble. "

"Into trouble? how is that?"

"Why, sir, there was a Still, Head, and Worm found upon Ahadarra, andI'm going to be fined for it. "

"M'Mahon, " replied the agent, "I am sorry to hear this, both on your ownaccount and that of your family. If I don't mistake, you were cautionedand warned against this; but it was useless; yes, I am sorry for it; andfor you, too. "

"I don't properly understand you, sir, " said Bryan. 

"Did I not myself forewarn you against having anything to do in matterscontrary to the law? You must remember I did, and on the very lastoccasion, too, when you were in my office. "

"I remember it right well, sir, " replied Bryan, "and I say now as I didthen, that I am not the man to break the law, or have act or part inanything that's contrary to it. I know nothing about this business, except that three ruffianly looking fellows named Hogan, common tinkers, and common vagabonds to boot--men that are my enemies--are the personsby all accounts who set up the still on my property. As for myself, Ihad no more to do in it or with it than yourself or Mr. Chevydale here. "

"Well, " replied Fethertonge, "I hope not. I should feel muchdisappointed if you had, but you know, Bryan, " he added, good-humoredly, "we could scarcely expect that you should admit such a piece of folly, not to call it by a harsher name. "

"If I had embarked in it, " replied M'Mahon, "I sartinly would not denyit to you or Mr. Chevydale, at least; but, as I said before, I knownothing more about it, than simply it was these ruffians and a fellownamed Phats, a Distiller, that set it a-working, --however, the questionis, what am I to do? If I must pay the fine for the whole townland, itwill beggar me--ruin me. It was that brought me to my landlord here, " headded; "I believe, sir, you have a brother a Commissioner of Excise?"

"Eh? what is that?" asked Chevydaie, looking up suddenly as Bryan askedthe question. 

M'Mahon was obliged to repeat all the circumstances once more, as didFeathertonge the warning he had given him against having any connectionwith illegal proceedings. 

"I am to get a memorial drawn up tomorrow, sir, " proceeded Bryan, "and Iwas thinking that by giving the Board of Excise a true statement of thecase, they might reduce the fine; if they don't, I am ruined--that'sall. "

"Certainly, " said his landlord, "that is a very good course to take;indeed, your only course. "

"I hope, sir, " proceeded Bryan, "that as you now know the truecircumstances of the case, you'll be kind, enough to support mypetition; I believe your brother, sir, is one of the Commissioners;you would sartinly be able to do something with him. "

"No, " replied Chevydaie, "I would not ask anything from him; but Ishall support your Petition, and try what I can do with the otherCommissioners. On principle, however, I make it a point never to askanything from my brother. "

"Will I bring you the Petition, sir?" asked Bryan. 

"Fetch me the Petition. "

"And Bryan, " said Fethertonge, raising his finger at him as if by way ofwarning--and laughing--"hark ye, let this be the last. "

"Fethertonge, " said the landlord, "I see 'Pratt has been found guilty, and the sentence confirmed by the Commander-in-Chief. "

"You will insist on it, " said Bryan, in reply to the agent, "but--"

"There now, M'Mahon, " said the latter, "that will do; good day to you. "

"I think it is a very harsh sentence, Fethertonge; will you touch thebell?"

"I don't know, sir, " replied the other, ringing as he spoke; "Neville'stestimony was very strong against him, and the breaking of the glass didnot certainly look like sobriety. "

"I had one other word to say, gentlemen, " added M'Mahon, "if you'llallow me, now that I'm here. "

Fethertonge looked at him with a face in which might be read a painfulbut friendly rebuke for persisting to speak, after the other had changedthe subject. "I rather think Mr. Chevydale would prefer hearing it someother time, Bryan. "

"But you know the proverb, sir, " said Bryan, smiling, "that there's notime like the present; besides it's only a word. "

"What is it?" asked the landlord. 

"About the leases, sir, " replied M'Mahon, "to know when it would beconvanient for you to sign them. "

Chevydale looked, from Bryan to the agent, and again from the agent toBryan, as if anxious to understand what the allusion to leases meant. At this moment a servant entered, saying, "The horses are at the door, gentlemen. "

"Come some other day, M'Mahon, " said Fethertonge; "do you not see thatwe are going out to ride now--going on our canvass? Come to my officesome other day; Mr. Chevydale will remain for a considerable time in thecountry now, and you need not feel so eager in the matter. "

"Yes, come some other day, Mr. --Mr. --ay--M'Mahon; if there are leasesto sign, of course I shall sign them; I am always anxious to do my dutyas a landlord. Come, or rather Fethertonge here will manage it. You knowI transact no business here; everything is done at his office, unlesswhen he brings me papers to sign. Of course I shall sign any necessarypaper. "

Bryan then withdrew, after having received another friendly nod ofremonstrance, which seemed to say, "Why will you thus persist, when yousee that he is not disposed to enter into these matters now? Am I notyour friend?" Still, however, he did not feel perfectly at ease with theresult of his visit. A slight sense of uncertainty and doubt crept overhim, and in spite of every effort at confidence, he found that thatwhich he had placed in Fethertonge, if it did not diminish, was mostassuredly not becoming stronger. 

CHAPTER XVI. ---A Spar Between Kate and Philip Hogan

--Bryan M'Mahon is Cautioned against Political Temptation--He SeeksMajor Vanston's Interest with the Board of Excise. 

The consequences of the calamity which was hanging over Bryan M'Mahon'shead, had become now pretty well understood, and occasioned a verygeneral and profound sympathy for the ruin in which it was likely toinvolve him. Indeed, almost every one appeared to feel it more than hehimself did, and many, who on meeting him, were at first disposed tooffer him consolation, changed their purpose on witnessing his cheerfuland manly bearing under it. Throughout the whole country there was butone family, with another exception, that felt gratified at the blowwhich had fallen on him. The exception we speak of was no other than Mr, Hycy Burke, and the family was that of the Hogans. As for TeddyPhats, he was not the man to trouble himself by the loss of a moment'sindifference upon any earthly or other subject, saving and exceptingalways that it involved the death, mutilation, or destruction in someshape, of his great and relentless foe, the Gauger, whom he looked uponas the impersonation of all that is hateful and villainous in life, andonly sent into this world to war with human happiness at large. That great professional instinct, as the French say, and a strongunaccountable disrelish of Hycy Burke, were the only two feelings thatdisturbed the hardened indifference of his nature. 

One night, shortly after Bryan's visit to his landlord, the Hogans andPhats were assembled in the kiln between the hours of twelve and oneo'clock, after having drunk nearly three quarts of whiskey amongthem. The young savages, as usual, after the vagabond depredations ormischievous exercises of the day, were snoring as we have described thembefore; when Teddy, whom no quantity of liquor could affect beyond amere inveterate hardness of brogue and an indescribable effort at mirthand melody, exclaimed--"Fwhy, dhen, dat's the stuff; and here's bad luckto him that paid fwor it. "

"I'll not drink it, you ugly _keout_, " exclaimed Philip, in his deep andruffianly voice; "but come--all o' yez fill up and drink my toast. Come, Kate, you crame of hell's delights, fill till I give it. No, " he addedabruptly, "I won't drink that, you leprechaun; the man that ped for itis Hycy Burke, and I like Hycy Burke for one thing, an' I'll not dhrinkbad luck to him. Come, are yez ready?"

"Give it out, you hulk, " said Kate, "an' don't keep us here all nightover it. "

"Here, then, " exclaimed the savage, with a grin of ferocious mirth, distorting his grim colossal features into a smile that was frightfuland inhuman--"Here's may Bryan M'Mahon be soon a beggar, an' all hisbreed the same! Drink it now, all o' yez, or, by the mortal counthryman, I'll brain the first that'll refuse it. "

The threat, in this case, was a drunken one, and on that very accountthe more dangerous. 

"Well, " said Teddy, "I don't like to drink it; but if--"

"_Honomondiaul!_ you d----d disciple, " thundered the giant, "down widit, or I'll split your skull!"

Teddy had it down ere the words were concluded. 

"What!" exclaimed Hogan, or rather roared again, as he fastened hisblazing eyes on Kate--"what, you yalla mullotty, do you dar to refuse?"

"Ay, do dar to refuse!--an' I'd see you fizzin' on the devil'sfryin'-pan, where you'll fiz yet, afore I'd dhrink it. Come, come, " shereplied, her eye blazing now as fiercely as his own, "keep quiet, I bidyou--keep calm; you ought to know me now, I think. "

"Drink it, " he shouted, "or I'll brain you. "

"Howl him, " said Teddy--"howl him; there's murdher in his eye. My soulto happiness but he'll kill her. "

"Will he, indeed?" said Bat, with a loud laugh, in which he was joinedby Ned--"will he, indeed?" they shouted. "Go on, Kate, you'll getfair play if you want it--his eye, Teddy! ay, but look at her's, manalive--look at her altogether! Go on, Kate--more power!"

Teddy, on looking at her again, literally retreated a few paces fromsheer terror of the tremendous and intrepid fury who now stood beforehim. It was then for the first time that he observed the huge bones andimmense muscular development that stood out into terrible strengthby the force of her rising passion. It was the eye, however, and thefeatures of the face which filled him with such an accountable dread. The eyes were literally blazing, and the muscles of the face, now castinto an expression which seemed at the same time to be laughter andfury, were wrought up and blended together in such a way as made thevery countenance terrible by the emanation of murder which seemed tobreak from every feature of it. "Drink it, I say again, " shouted Philip. Kate made no reply, but, walking over to where he stood, she lookedclosely into his eyes, and said, with grinding teeth--"Not if it was tosave you from the gallows, where you'll swing yet; but listen. " As shespoke her words were hoarse and low, there was a volume of powerfulstrength in her voice which stunned one like the roar of a lioness. "Here, " she exclaimed, her voice now all at once rising or rathershooting up to a most terrific scream--"here's a disgraceful death toHycy Burke! and may all that's good and prosperous in this world, ay, and in the next, attend Bryan M'Mahon, the honest man! Now, Philip, myman, see how I drink them both. " And, having concluded, she swallowedthe glass of whiskey, and again drawing her face within an inch of hisshe glared right into his eyes. 

"Howl me, " he shouted, "or I'll sthrike, an' we'll have a death in thehouse. "

She raised one hand and waved it behind her, as an intimation that theyshould not interfere. 

The laughter of the brothers now passed all bounds. "No, Kate, go on--wewon't interfere. You had better seize him. "

"No, " she replied, "let him begin first, if he dar. "

"Howl me, " shouted Philip, "she'll only be killed. "

Another peal of laughter was the sole reply given to this by thebrothers. "He's goin', " they exclaimed, "he's gone--the white fedher'sin him--it's all over wid him--he's afeerd of her, an' not for nothingeither--ha! ha! ha! more power, Kate!"

Stung by the contemptuous derision contained in this language, Philipwas stepping back in order to give himself proper room for a blow, when, on the very instant that he moved, Kate, uttering something between ahowl and a yell, dashed her huge hands into his throat--which was, asis usual with tinkers, without a cravat--and in a moment a desperate andawful struggle took place between them. Strong as Philip was, he foundhimself placed perfectly on the defensive by the terrific grip whichthis furious opponent held of his throat. So powerful was it, indeed, that not a single instant was allowed him for the exercise of anyaggressive violence against her by a blow, all his strength beingdirected to unclasp her hands from his throat that he might be permittedto breathe. As they pulled and tugged, however, it was evident that thestruggle was going against him--a hoarse, alarming howl once or twicebroke from him, that intimated terror and distress on his part. 

"That's right, Kate, " they shouted, "you have him--press tight--thewindpipe's goin'--bravo! he'll soon stagger an' come down, an' then youmay do as you like. "

They tugged on, and dragged, and panted, with the furious vehemence ofthe exertion; when at length Philip shouted, in a voice half-stifled bystrangulation, "Let g--o--o--o, I--I sa--y--y; ah! ah! ah!"

Bat now ran over in a spirit of glee and triumph that cannot well bedescribed, and clapping his wife on the back, shouted--"Well done, Kate; stick to him for half a minute and he's yours. Bravo! you clip o'perdition, bravo!"

He had scarcely uttered the words when the giant carcass of Philiptottered and fell, dragging Kate along with it, who never for a momentlost or loosened her hold. Her opponent now began to sprawl and kickout his feet from a sense of suffocation, and in attempting to call forassistance, nothing but low, deep gurgling noises could issue from hislips, now livid with the pressure on his throat and covered with foam. His face, too, at all times dark and savage, became literally black, andhe uttered such sternutations as, on seeing that they were accompaniedby the diminished struggles which betoken exhaustion, induced Teddy torush over for the purpose of rescuing him from her clutches. 

"Aisy, " said the others; "let them alone--a little thing will do itnow--it's almost over--she has given him his gruel--an' divil's cure tohim--he knew well enough what she could do--but he would have it. "

Faint convulsive movements were all now that could be noticed in thehuge limbs of their brother, and still the savage tigress was at histhroat, when her husband at length said:--

"It's time, Ned--it's time--she may carry it too far--he's quiet enoughnow. Come away, Kate, it's all right--let him alone--let go your houltof him. "

Kate, however, as if she had tasted his blood, would listen to no suchlanguage; all the force, and energies, and bloody instincts of theincarnate fury were aroused within her, and she still stuck to hervictim. 

"Be japers she'll kill him, " shouted Bat, rushing to her; "come, Ned, till we unclasp her--take care--pull quickly--bloody wars, he'sdead!--Kate, you divil!--you fury of hell! let go--let go, I say. "

Kate, however, heard him not, but still tugged and stuck to the throatof Philip's quivering carcass, until by a united effort they at lengthdisentangled her iron clutches from it, upon which she struggled andhowled like a beast of prey, and attempted with a strength that seemedmore akin to the emotion of a devil than that of a woman to get at himagain and again, in order to complete her work. 

"Come, Kate, " said her husband, "you're a Trojan--by japers you're aTrojan; you've settled him any way--is there life in him?" he asked, "ifthere is, dash wather or something in his face, an' drag him up out o'that--ha! ha! Well done, Kate; only for you we'd lead a fine life widhim--ay! an' a fine life that is--a hard life we led until you didcome--there now, more power to you--by the livin' Counthryman, there'snot your aquil in Europe--come now, settle down, an' don't keep allmovin' that way as if you wor at him again--sit down now, an' here'sanother glass of whiskey for you. "

In the mean time, Ned and Teddy Phats succeeded in recovering Philip, whom they dragged over and placed upon a kind of bench, where in a fewminutes he recovered sufficiently to be able to speak--but ever and anonhe shook his head, and stretched his neck, and drew his breath deeply, putting his hands up from time to time as if he strove to set hiswindpipe more at ease. 

"Here Phil, my hairo, " said his triumphant brother Bat, "take anotherglass, an' may be for all so strong and murdherin' as you are wid othersyou now know--an' you knew before what our woman' can do at home widyou. "

"I've--hoch--hoch--I've done wid her--she's no woman; there's a devilin her, an' if you take my advice, it's to Priest M'Scaddhan you'd bringher, an' have the same devil prayed out of her--I that could murdher erea man in the parist a'most!"

"Lave Bryan M'Mahon out, " said Kate. 

"No I won't, " replied Phil, sullenly, and with a voice still hoarse, "no, I won't--I that could make smash of ere a man in the parish, to bethrottled into perdition by a blasted woman. She's a devil, I say; forthe last ten minutes I seen nothin' but fire, fire, fire, as red asblazes, an' I hard somethin' yellin', yellin', in my ears. "

"Ay!" replied Kate, "I know you did--that was the fire of hell you seen, ready to resave you; an' the noise you hard was the voices of the devilsthat wor comin' for your sowl--ay, an' the voices of the two wives youmurdhered--take care then, or I'll send you sooner to hell than youdhrame of. "

The scowl which she had in return for this threat was beyond alldescription. 

"Oh, I have done wid you, " he replied; "you're not right, I say--butnever mind, I'll put a pin in M'Mahon's collar for this--ay will I. "

"Don't!" she exclaimed, in one fearful monosyllable, and then she addedin a low condensed whisper, "or if you do, mark the consequence. "

"Trot, Phil, " said Teddy, "I think you needn't throuble your head aboutM'Mahon--he's done fwhor. "

"An' mark me, " said Kate, "I'll take care of the man that done for him. I know him well, betther than he suspects, an' can make him sup sorrowwhenever I like--an' would, too, only for one thing. "

"An' fwhat's dhat wan thing?" asked Phats. 

"You'll know it when you're ouldher, may be, " replied Kate; "but youmust be ouldher first--I can keep my own secrets, thank God, an' will, too--only mark me all o' yez; you know well what I am--let no injurycome to Bryan M'Mahon. For the sake of one person he must be safe. "

"Well, " observed Teddy, "let us hear no more about them; it's allsettled that we are to set up in Glen Dearg above again--for thisHycy, --who's sthrivin' to turn the penny where he can. "

"It is, " said Bat; "an', to-morrow night, let us bring the thingsup--this election will sarve us at any rate--but who will come in?" (*That is, be returned. )

"The villain of hell!" suddenly exclaimed Kate, as if to herself; "togo to ruin the young man! That girl's breakin' her heart for what hashappened. "

"What are you talkin' about?" asked her husband. 

"Nothing, " she replied; "only if you all intend to have any restto-night, throw yourselves in the shake-down there, an' go sleep. I'mnot to sit up the whole night here, I hope?"

Philip, and Ned, and Teddy tumbled themselves into the straw, and in afew minutes were in a state of perfect oblivion. 

"Hycy Burke is a bad boy, Bat, " she said, as the husband was about tofollow their example; "but he is marked--I've set my mark upon him. "

"You appear to know something particular about him, " observed herhusband. 

"Maybe I do, an' maybe I don't, " she replied; "but I tell you, he'smarked--that's all--go to bed now. "

He tumbled after the rest, Kate stretched herself in an, oppositecorner, and in a few minutes this savage orchestra was in full chorus. 

What an insoluble enigma is woman! From the specimen of femininedelicacy and modest diffidence which we have just presented to thereader, who would imagine that Kate Hogan was capable of entering intothe deep and rooted sorrow which Kathleen Cavanagh experienced when madeacquainted with the calamity which was about to crush her lover. Yet soit was. In truth this fierce and furious woman who was at once a thief, a liar, a drunkard, and an impostor, hardened in wickedness and deceit, had in spite of all this a heart capable of virtuous aspirations, andof loving what was excellent and good. It is true she was a hypocriteherself, yet she detested Hycy Burke for his treachery. She was a thiefand a liar, yet she liked and respected Bryan M'Mahon for his truth andhonesty. Her heart, however, was not all depraved; and, indeed, it isdifficult to meet a woman in whose disposition, however corrupted byevil society, and degraded by vice, there is not to be found a portionof the angelic essence still remaining. In the case before us, however, this may be easily accounted for. Kate Hogan, though a hell-cat anddevil, when provoked, was, amidst all her hardened violence and generaldisregard of truth and honesty, a virtuous woman and a faithful wife. Hence her natural regard for much that was good and pure, and her strongsympathy with the sorrow which now fell upon Kathleen Cavanagh. 

Kathleen and her sister had been sitting sewing at the parlor window, onthe day Bryan had the interview we have detailed with Chevydale and theagent, when they heard their father's voice inquiring for Hanna. 

"He has been at Jemmy Burke's, Kathleen, " said her sister, "and I'llwager a nosegay, if one could get one, that he has news of this newsweetheart of yours; he's bent, Kathleen, " she added, "to have you inJemmy Burke's family, cost what it may. "

"So it seems, Hanna. "

"They say Edward Burke is still a finer-looking young fellow than Hycy. Now, Kathleen, " she added, laughing, "if you should spoil a priestafther all! Well! un-likelier things have happened. "

"That may be, " replied Kathleen, "but this won't happen for all that, Hanna. Go, there he's calling for you again. "

"Yes--yes, " she shouted; "throth, among you all, Kathleen, you're makinga regular go-between of me. My father thinks I can turn you round myfinger, and Bryan M'Mahon thinks--yes, I'm goin', " she answered again. "Well, keep up your spirits; I'll soon have news for you about thisspoiled priest. "

"Poor Hanna, " thought Kathleen; "where was there ever such a sister? Shedoes all she can to keep my spirits up; but it can't be. How can I seehim ruined and beggared, that had the high spirit and the true heart?"

Hanna, her father, and mother, held a tolerably long discussiontogether, in which Kathleen could only hear the tones of their voicesoccasionally. It was evident, however, by the emphatic intonations ofthe old couple, that they were urging some certain point, which herfaithful sister was deprecating, sometimes, as Kathleen could learn, byseriousness, and at other times by mirth. At length she returned witha countenance combating between seriousness and jest; the seriousness, however, predominating. 

"Kathleen, " said she, "you never had a difficulty before you until now. They haven't left me a leg to stand upon. Honest Jemmy never had anywish to make Edward a priest, and he tells my father that it was alla trick of the wife to get everything for her favorite; and he's nowdetermined to disappoint them. What will you do?"

"What would you recommend me?" asked Kathleen, looking at her withsomething of her own mood, for although her brow was serious, yet therewas a slight smile upon her lips. 

"Why, " said the frank and candid girl, "certainly to run away with BryanM'Mahon; that, you know, would settle everything. "

"Would it settle my father's heart, " said Kathleen, "and mymother's?--would it settle my own character?--would it be the step thatall the world would expect from Kathleen Cavanagh?--and putting all theworld aside, would it be a step that I could take in the sight of God, my dear Hanna?"

"Kathleen, forgive me, darlin', " said her sister, throwing her armsabout her neck, and laying her head upon her shoulder; "I'm a foolish, flighty creature; indeed, I don't know what's to be done, nor I can'tadvise you. Come out and walk about; the day's dry an' fine. "

"If your head makes fifty mistakes, " said her sister, "your heart's anexcuse for them all; but you don't make any mistakes, Hanna, whenyou're in earnest; instead of that your head's worth all our heads puttogether. Come, now. "

They took the Carriglass road, but had not gone far when they met DoraM'Mahon who, as she said, "came down to ask them up a while, as thehouse was now so lonesome;" and she added, with artless naivete, "Idon't know how it is, Kathleen, but I love you better now than I everdid before. Ever since my darlin' mother left us, I can't look upon youas a stranger, and now that poor Bryan's in distress, my heart clings toyou more and more. "

Hanna, the generous Hanna's eyes partook of the affection and admirationwhich beamed in Dora's, as they rested on Kathleen; but notwithstandingthis, she was about to give Dora an ironical chiding for omitting tosay anything gratifying to herself, when happening to look back, she sawBryan at the turn of the road approaching them. 

"Here's a friend of ours, " she exclaimed; "no less than Bryan M'Mahonhimself. Come, Dora, we can't go' up to Carriglass, but we'll walk backwith you a piece o' the way. "

Bryan, who was then on his return from Chevydale's, soon joined them, and they proceeded in the direction of his father's, Dora and Hannahaving, with good-humored consideration, gone forward as an advancedguard, leaving Bryan and Kathleen to enjoy their tete-a-tete behindthem. 

"Dear Kathleen, " said Bryan, "I was very anxious to see you. You'veh'ard of this unfortunate business that has come upon me?"

"I have, " she replied, "and I need not say that I'm sorry for it. Is it, or will it be as bad as they report?"

"Worse, Kathleen. I will have the fine for all Ahadarra to pay myself. "

"But can nothing be done. Wouldn't they let you off when they come tohear that, although the Still was found upon your land, yet it wasn'tyours, nor it wasn't you that was usin' it?"

"I don't know how that may be. Hycy Burke tells me that they'll be aptto reduce the fine, if I send them a petition or memorial, or whateverthey call it, an' he's to have one Written for me to-morrow. "

"I'm afraid Hycy's a bad authority for anybody, Bryan. "

"I don't think you do poor Hycy justice, Kathleen; he's not, in myopinion, so bad as you think him. I don't know a man, nor I haven'tmet a man that's sorrier for what has happened me; he came to see meyesterday, and to know in what way he could serve me, an' wasn't calledupon to do so. "

"I hope you're right, Bryan; for why should I wish Hycy Burke to be abad man, or why should I wish him ill? I may be mistaken in him, and Ihope I am. "

"Indeed, I think you are, Kathleen; he's wild a good deal, I grant, and has a spice of mischief in him, and many a worthy young fellow hasboth. "

"That's very true, " she replied; "however, we have h'ard bad enough ofhim. There's none of us what we ought to be, Bryan. If you're calledupon to pay this fine, what will, be the consequence?"

"Why, that I'll have to give up my farm--that I won't be left worthsixpence. "

"Who put the still up in Ahadarra?" she inquired. "Is it true that itwas the Hogan's?"

"Indeed I believe there's no doubt about it, " he replied; "since Ileft the landlord's, I have heard what satisfies me that it was them andTeddy Phats. "

Kathleen paused and sighed. "They are a vile crew, " she added, after alittle; "but, be they what they may, they're faithful and honest, andaffectionate to our family; an' that, I believe, is the only good aboutthem. Bryan, I am very sorry for this misfortune that has come upon you. I am sorry for your own sake. "

"And I, " replied Bryan, "am sorry for--I was goin' to say--yours; butit would be, afther all, for my own. I haven't the same thoughts of younow, dear Kathleen. "

She gazed quickly, and with some surprise at him, and asked, "Why so, Bryan?"

"I'm changed--I'm a ruined man, " he replied; "I had bright hopes ofcomfort and happiness--hopes that I doubt will never come to pass. However, " he added, recovering himself, and assuming a look ofcheerfulness, "who knows if everything will turnout so badly as wefear?"

"That's the spirit you ought to show, " returned Kathleen; "You havebefore you the example of a good father; don't be cast down, nor lookat the dark side; but you said you had not the same thoughts of me justnow; I don't understand you. "

"Do you think, " he replied, with a smile, "that I meant to say myaffection for you was changed? Oh, no, Kathleen; but that my situationis changed, or soon will be so; and that on that account we can't be thesame thing to one another that we have been. "

"Bryan, " she replied, "you may always depend upon this, that so long asyou are true to your God and to yourself, I will be true to you. Dependupon this once and forever. "

"Kathleen, that's like yourself, but I could not think of bringing youto shame. " He paused, and turning his eyes full upon her, added--"I'mallowin' myself to sink again. Everything will turn out better than wethink, plaise God. "

"I hope so, " she added, "but whatever happens, Bryan do you always actan open, honest, manly part, as I know you will do; act always so asthat your conscience can't accuse you, or make you feel that you havedone anything that is wrong, or unworthy, or disgraceful; and then, dearBryan, welcome poverty may you say, as I will welcome Bryan M'Mahon withit. "

Both had paused for a little on their way, and stood for about a minutemoved by the interest which each felt in what the other uttered. AsBryan's eye rested on the noble features and commanding figure ofKathleen, he was somewhat started by the glow of enthusiasm whichlit both her eye and her cheek, although he was too unskilled in themanifestations of character to know that it was enthusiasm she felt. 

They then proceeded, and after a short silence Bryan observed--"DearKathleen, I know the value of the advice you are giving me, but will youlet me ask if you ever seen anything in my conduct, or heard anything inmy conversation, that makes you think it so necessary to give it to me?"

"If I ever had, Bryan, it's not likely I'd be here at your side this dayto give it to you; but you're now likely to be brought into trials anddifficulties--into temptation--and it is then that you may think maybeof what I'm sayin' now. "

"Well, Kathleen, " he replied, smiling, "you're determined at all eventsthat the advice will come before the temptation; but, indeed, my owndearest girl, my heart this moment is proud when I think that you areso full of truth, an' feelin', and regard for me, as to give me suchadvice, and to be able to give it. But still I hope I won't stand inneed of it, and that if the temptations you spoke of come in my way, I will have your advice--ay, an' I trust in God the adviser, too--todirect me. "

"Are you sure, Bryan, " and she surveyed him closely as she spoke--"areyou sure that no part of the temptation has come across you already?"

He looked surprised as she asked him this singular question. "I am, "said he; "but, dear Kathleen, I can't rightly understand you. Whattemptations do you mane?"

"Have you not promised to vote for Mr. Vanston, the Tory candidate, whonever in his life voted for your religion or your liberty?"

"Do you mane me, dearest Kathleen?"

"You, certainly; who else could I mean when I ask you the question?"

"Why, I never promised to vote for Vanston, " he replied; "an' what ismore--but who said I did?"

"On the day before yesterday, " she proceeded, "two gentlemen came to ourhouse to canvass votes, and they stated plainly that you had promised tovote for them--that is for Vanston. "

"Well, Kathleen, all I can say is, that the statement is not true. I didn't promise for Vanston, and they did not even ask me. Are yousatisfied now? or whether will you believe them or me?"

"I am satisfied, dear Bryan; I am more than satisfied; for my heartis easy. Misfortune! what signifies mere misfortune, or the loss of abeggarly farm?"

"But, my darling Kathleen, it is anything but a beggarly farm. "

Kathleen, however, heard him not, but proceeded. "What signifiespoverty, Bryan, or struggle, so long as the heart is right, and theconscience clear and without a spot? Nothing--oh, nothing! As God is tojudge me, I would rather beg my bread with you as an honest man, true, as I said awhile ago, to your God and your religion, than have an estateby your side, if you could prove false to either. "

The vehemence with which she uttered these sentiments, and the firewhich animated her whole mind and manner, caused them to pause again, and Bryan, to whom this high enthusiasm was perfectly new, now saw withsomething like wonder, that the tears were flowing down her cheeks. 

He caught her hand and said "My own darling Kathleen, the longer I knowyou the more I see your value; but make your mind easy; when I become atraitor to either God or my religion, you may renounce me!"

"Don't be surprised at these tears, Bryan; don't, my dear Bryan; for youmay look upon them as a proof of how much I love you, and what I wouldfeel if the man I love should do anything unworthy, or treacherous, tohis religion or his suffering country. "

"How could I, " he replied, "with my own dear Kathleen, that will be aguardian angel to me, to advise and guide me? Well, now that your mindis aisy, Kathleen, mine I think is brighter, too. I have no doubt butwe'll be happy yet--at least I trust in God we will. Who knows buteverything may prove betther than our expectations; and as you say, theymay make a poor man of me, and ruin me, but so long as I can keep mygood name, and am true to my country, and my God, I can never complain. "

CHAPTER XVII. --Interview between Hycy and Finigan

--The Former Propones for Miss Clinton--A love Scene

Hycy, after his conversation with Bryan M'Mahon, felt satisfied that hehad removed all possible suspicion from himself, but at the same time heransacked his mind in order to try who it was that had betrayed him toBryan. The Hogans he had no reason to suspect, because from experiencehe knew them to be possessed of a desperate and unscrupulous fidelity, in excellent keeping with their savage character; and to suspect TeddyPhats, was to suppose that an inveterate and incurable smuggler wouldinform upon him. After a good deal of cogitation, he at length cameto the conclusion that the school-master, Finigan, must have beenthe traitor, and with this impression he resolved to give that worthypersonage a call upon his way home. He found him as usual at full work, and as usual, also, in that state which is commonly termed half drunk, astate, by the way, in which the learned pedagogue generally contrivedto keep himself night and day. Hycy did not enter his establishment, butafter having called him once or twice to no purpose--for such was thedin of the school that his voice could not penetrate it--he at lengthknocked against the half open door, which caused him to be both seenand heard more distinctly. On seeing him, the school-master got to hislimbs, and was about to address him, when Hycy said--

"Finigan, I wish to speak a few words to you. "

"O'Finigan, sir--O'Finigan, Mr. Burke. It is enough, sir, to be deprivedof our hereditary territories, without being clipped of our names; theyshould lave us those at all events unmutilated. O'Finigan, therefore, Mr. Burke, whenever you address me, if you plaise. "

"Well, Mr. O'Finigan, " continued Hycy, "if not inconvenient, I shouldwish to speak a few words with you. "

"No inconvenience in the world, Mr. Burke; I am always disposed tooblige my friends whenever I can do so wid propriety. My advice, sir, my friendship, and my purse, are always at their service. My advice toguide them--my friendship to sustain--and my purse--hem!--ha, ha, ha--Ithink. I may clap a payriod or full stop there, " he added, laughing, "inasmuch as the last approaches very near to what philosophers term avacuum or nonentity. Gintlemen, " he proceeded, addressing the scholars, "I am going over to Lanty Hanratty's for a while to enjoy a social cupwid Mr. Burke here, and as that fact will cause the existence of a shortinteregnum, I now publicly appoint Gusty Carney as my _locum tenens_until I resume the reins of government on my return. Gusty, put thenames of all offenders down on a slate, and when I return 'condign'is the word; an' see, Gusty--mairk me well--no bribery--no breadnor buttons, nor any other materials of corruption from theculprits--otherwise you shall become their substitute in thecastigation, and I shall teach you to look one way and feel another, myworthy con-disciple. "

"Now, Finigan--I beg your pardon--O'Finigan, " said Hycy, when they wereseated in the little back tap-room of the public-house with refreshmentsbefore them, "I think I have reason to be seriously displeased withyou. "

"Displeased with me!" exclaimed his companion; "and may I take theliberty to interrogate wherefore, Mr. Hycy?"

"You misrepresented me to Bryan M'Mahon, " said Hycy. 

"Upon what grounds and authority do you spake, sir?" asked Finigan, whose dignity was beginning to take offence. 

"I have good grounds and excellent authority for what I say, " repliedHycy. "You have acted a very dishonorable part, Mr. Finigan, and theconsequence is that I have ceased to be your friend. "

"I act a dishonorable part. Why, sir, I scorn the imputation; but howhave I acted a dishonorable part? that's the point. "

"You put Bryan M'Mahon upon his guard against me, and consequently leftan impression on his mind that I was his enemy. "

"Well, " said the other, with a good deal of irony, "that is good! HaveI, indeed? And pray, Mr. Burke, who says so?"

"I have already stated that my authority for it is good. "

"But you must name you authority, sir, no lurking assassin shall bepermitted wid impunity to stab my fair reputation wid the foul dagger ofcalumny and scandal. Name your authority, sir?"

"I could do so. "

"Well, sir, why don't you? Let me hear the name of the illiteratemiscreant, whoever he is, that has dared to tamper with my unblemishedfame. "

"All I ask you, " continued Hycy, "is to candidly admit the fact, andstate why you acted as you did. "

"Name your authority, sir, and then I shall speak. Perhaps I did, andperhaps I did not; but when you name your authority I shall thengive you a more satisfactory reply. That's the language--the elevatedlanguage--of a gentleman, Mr. Burke. "

"My authority then is no other than Bryan M'Mahon himself, " repliedHycy, "who told me that he was cautioned against me; so that I hopeyou're now satisfied. "

"Mr. Burke, " replied Finigan, assuming a lofty and impressive manner, "I have known the M'Mahons for better than forty years; so, in fact, hasthe country around them; and until the present moment I never heard thata deliberate falsehood, or any breach of truth whatsoever, was imputedto any one of them. Tom M'Mahon's simple word was never doubted, andwould pass aquil to many a man's oath; and it is the same thing wid thewhole family, man and women. They are proverbial, sir, for truthand integrity, and a most spontaneous effusion of candor under allcircumstances. You will pardon me then, Mr. Hycy, if I avow a trifle ofheresy in this matter. You are yourself, wid great respect be it spoken, sometimes said to sport your imagination occasionally, and to try yourhand wid considerable success at a _lapsus veritatis_. Pardon me, then, if I think it somewhat more probable that you have just now stated whatan ould instructor of mine used to call a moral thumper; excuse me, Isay; and at all events I have the pleasure of drinking your health; andif my conjecture be appropriate, here's also a somewhat closer adhesionto the _veritas_ aforesaid to you!"

"Do you mean to insinuate that I'm stating what is not true?" saidBurke, assuming an offended look, which, however, he did not feel. 

"No, sir, " replied Finigan, retorting his look with one of indignantscorn, "far be it from me to insinuate any such thing. I broadly, andin all the latitudinarianism of honest indignation, assert that it is ad--d lie, begging your pardon, and drinking to your moral improvement asecond time; and ere you respond to what I've said, it would be as well, in order to have the matter copiously discussed, if you ordhered ina fresh supply of liquor, and help yourself, for, if the proverb betrue--_in vino veritas_--there it is again, but truth will be out, yousee--who knows but we may come to a thrifle of it from you yet? Ha! ha!ha! Excuse the jest, Mr. Hycy. You remember little Horace, --

 "'Quid vetat ridentem dicere verum?'"

"Do you mean to say, sirra, " said Hycy, "that I have stated a lie?"

"I mean to say that whoever asserts that I misrepresented you in any wayto Bryan M'Mahon, or ever cautioned him against you, states a lie of thefirst magnitude--a moral thumper, of gigantic dimensions. "

"Well, will you tell me what you did say to him?"

"What I did say, " echoed Finigan. "Well, " he added, after a pause, during which he I surveyed Hycy pretty closely--having now discoveredthat he was, in fact, only proceeding upon mere suspicion--"I believeI must acknowledge a portion of the misrepresentation. I must, onsecondary consideration, plead guilty to that fact. "

"I thought as much, " said Hycy. 

"Here then--, " proceeded Finigan, with a broad and provoking grinupon his coarse but humorous features, "here, Mr. Hycy, is what Idid say--says I, 'Bryan, I have a word to say to you, touching anaccomplished young gentleman, a friend of yours. '

"'What is that?' asked the worthy Beit-nardus. 

"'It is regarding the all-accomplished Mr. Hyacinthus Burke, ' I replied, 'who is a _homo-factus ad unguem_. Mr. Burke, Bryan, ' I proceeded, 'is agentleman in the--hem--true sense of that word. He is generous, candid, faithful, and honest; and in association wid all his other excellentqualities, he is celebrated, among the select few who know him best, for an extraordinary attachment to--truth. ' Now, if that wasn'tmisrepresentation, Mr. Hycy, I don't know what was. Ha! ha! ha!"

"You're half drunk, " replied Hycy, "or I should rather say whole drunk, I think, and scarcely know what you're saying; or rather, I believeyou're a bit of a knave, Mr. O'Finigan. "

"Thanks, sir; many thanks for the prefix. Proceed. "

"I have nothing more to add, " replied Hycy, rising up and preparing togo. 

"Ay, " said Finigan, with another grin, "a bit of a knave, am I? Well, now, isn't it better to be only a bit of a knave than a knave all out--aknave in full proportions, from top to toe, from head to heel--like someaccomplished gentlemen that I have the! honor of being acquainted wid. But in the I meantime, now, don't be in a hurry, man alive, nor lookas if you were fatted on vinegar. Sit down again; ordher in anotherlibation, and I shall make a disclosure that will be worth your waitingfor. "

"You shall have the libation, as you call it, at all events, " said Hycy, resuming his seat, but feeling, at the same time, by no means satisfiedwith the lurking grin which occasionally played over Finigan's features. 

After much chat and banter, and several attempts on the part of Hycy toinsinuate himself into the pedagogue's confidence, he at length roseto go. His companion was now in that state which strongly borders oninebriety, and he calculated that if it were possible to worm anythingout of him, he was now in the best condition for it. Every effort, however, was in vain; whenever he pressed the schoolmaster closely, thevague, blank expression of intoxication disappeared for a moment, andwas replaced by the broad, humorous ridicule, full of self-possessionand consciousness, which always characterized Finigan, whether drunk orsober. The man was naturally cunning, and ranked among a certain classof topers who can be made drunk to a certain extent, and upon someparticular subjects, but who, beyond that, and with these limitations, defy the influence of liquor. 

Hycy Burke was one of those men who, with smart and showy qualitiesand great plausibility of manner, was yet altogether without purposeor steadfast principle in the most ordinary affairs of life. He had nofixed notions upon either morals, religion, or politics; and when wesay so, we may add, that he was equally without motive--that is, without_adequate_ motive, in almost everything he did. 

The canvass was now going on with great zeal on the part of Chevydaleand Vanston. Sometimes Hycy was disposed to support the one andsometimes the other, but as to feeling a firm attachment to the cause orprinciples of either, it was not in his nature. 

Indeed, the approach of a general election was at all times calculatedto fill the heart of a thinking man with a strong sense of shame for hiskind, and of sorrow for the unreasoning and brutal tendency to slaveryand degradation which it exhibits. Upon this occasion the canvass, in, consequence of the desperate struggle that must ensue, owing to theequality of the opposing forces, was a remarkably early one. Partyfeeling and religious animosity, as is usual, ran very high, each havingbeen made the mere stalking-horse or catchword of the rival candidates, who cared nothing, or at least very little, about the masses on eitherside, provided always that they could turn them to some advantage. 

It was one morning after the canvass had been going forward with greatactivity on both sides for about a week, that Hycy, who now felt himselfrather peculiarly placed, rode down to Clinton's for the purpose offormally paying his addresses to the gauger's interesting niece, and, if possible, ascertaining his fate from her own lips. His brother Edwardhad now been brought home in accordance with the expressed determinationof his father, with whom he was, unquestionably, a manifest favorite, acircumstance which caused Hycy to detest him, and also deprived him in agreat degree of his mother's affection. Hycy had now resolved to pay hisdevoirs to Kathleen Cavanagh, as a _dernier_ resort, in the event ofhis failing with Miss Clinton; for, as regarding affection, he hadno earthly conception what it I meant. With this view he rode down toClinton's as we said, and met Harry coming out of the stable. 

"Harry, " said he, after his horse was put I up, "I am about to ask aninterview with your sister. "

"I don't think she will grant it, " replied her brother, "you are by nomeans a favorite; with her; however, you can try; perhaps she may. Youknow the old adage, '_varium et imutabile semper_. ' Who knows but shemay have changed her mind?"

"Is your uncle within?" asked Hycy. 

"No, " replied his nephew, "he's gone to Fethertonge's upon some electionbusiness. "

"Could you not contrive, " said Hycy, "to leave her and me together, then, and allow me to ascertain what I am to expect?"

"Come in, " said Harry--"never say it again. If I can I will. "

Hycy, as we have stated before, had vast confidence in his own powers ofpersuasion; and general influence with women, and on this occasion, hisreally handsome features were made vulgar by a smirk of self-conceitwhich he could not conceal, owing to his natural vanity and apresentiment of success that is almost inseparable from persons of hisclass, who can scarcely look even upon the most positive and decidedrejection by a woman as coming seriously from her heart. Even HarryClinton himself, though but a young man, thought, as he afterwardsstated to his sister, that he never saw Hycy have so much the appearanceof a puppy as upon that occasion. As had been proposed, he withdrew, however, and the lover being left in the drawing-room with Miss Clintonbegan, with a simper that was rather coxcombical, to make allusions tothe weather, but in such a way as if there was some deep but delightfulmeaning veiled under his commonplaces. At length he came directly to the'point. 

"But passing from the weather, Miss Clinton, to a much more agreeabletopic, permit me to ask if you have ever turned your thoughts uponmatrimony?"

The hectic of a moment, as Sterne. Says, accompanied by a look thatslightly intimated displeasure, or something like it, was the only replyhe received for a quarter of a minute, when she said, after the feelingprobably had passed away--"No, indeed, Mr. Burke, I have not. "

"Come, come, Miss Clinton, " said Hycy, with another smirk, "that won'tpass. Is it not laid down by the philosophers that you think of littleelse from the time you are marriageable?"

"By what philosophers?"

"Why, let me see--by the philosophers in general--ha! ha! ha!"

"I was not aware of that, " she replied; "but even if they have so ruledit, I see no inference we can draw from that, except their ignorance ofthe subject. "

"It is so ruled, however, " said Hycy, "and philosophy is against you. "

"I am willing it should, Mr. Burke, provided we have truth with us. "

"Very good, indeed, Miss Clinton--that was well said; but, seriously, have you ever thought of marriage?"

"Doesn't philosophy say that we seldom think of anything else?" shereplied, smiling. Ask philosophy, then. "

"But this really is a subject in which I feel a particular interest--apersonal interest; but, as for philosophy, I despise it--that is as itis usually understood. The only philosophy of life is love, and that ismy doctrine. "

"Is that your only doctrine?"

"Pretty nearly; but it is much the same as that which appears in theworld under the different disguises of religion. "

"I trust you do not mean to assert that love and religion are the samething, Mr. Burke?"

"I do; the terms are purely convertible. Love is the universal religionof man, and he is most religious who feels it most; that is your onlygenuine piety. For instance, I am myself in a most exalted state of thatsame piety this moment, and have been so for a considerable time past. "

Miss Clinton felt a good deal embarrassed by the easy profligacy thatwas expressed in these sentiments, and she made an effort to change thesubject. 

"Are you taking part in the canvass which is going on in the country, Mr. Burke?"

"Not much, " said he; "I despise politics as much as I cherish the littlerosy god; but really, Miss Clinton, I feel anxious to know your opinionson marriage, and you have not stated them. Do you not think the nuptialstate the happiest?"

"It's a subject I feel no inclination whatsoever to discuss, Mr. Burke;it is a subject which, personally speaking, has never occupied from meone moment's thought; and, having said so much, I trust you will havethe goodness to select some other topic for conversation. "

"But I am so circumstanced, just now, Miss Clinton, that I cannot reallychange it. The truth is, that I have felt very much attached to you forsome time past--upon my word and honor I have: it's a fact, I assureyou, Miss Clinton; and I now beg to make you a tender of myselfand--and--of all I am possessed of. I am a most ardent admirer of yours;and the upmost extent of my ambition is to become an accepted one. Dothen, my dear Miss Clinton, allow me the charming privilege--pray, do. "

"What will be the consequence if I do not?" she replied, smiling. 

"Upon my word and honor, I shall go nearly distracted, and get quitemelancholy; my happiness depends upon you, Miss Clinton; you are a verydelightful girl, quite a _nonpareil_, and I trust you will treat me withkindness and consideration. "

"Mr. Burke, " replied the lady, "I am much obliged for the preference youexpress for me; but whether you are serious or in jest, I can only saythat I have no notion of matrimony; that I have never had any notion ofit; and that I can safely say, I have never seen the man whom I shouldwish to call my husband. You will oblige me very much, then, if infuture you forbear to introduce this subject. Consider it a forbiddenone, so far as I am concerned, for I feel quite unworthy of so giftedand accomplished a gentleman as Mr. Burke. "

"You will not discard me surely, Miss Clinton?"

"On that subject, unquestionably. "

"No, no, my dear Miss Clinton, you will not say so; do not be so cruel;you will distress me greatly, I assure you. I am very much deficient infirmness, and your cruelty will afflict me and depress my spirits. "

"I trust not, Mr. Burke. Your spirits are naturally good, and I haveno doubt but you will ultimately overcome this calamity--at least Isincerely hope so. "

"Ah, Miss Clinton, you little know the heart I have, nor my capacity forfeeling; my feelings, I assure you, are exceedingly tender, and Iget quite sunk under disappointment. Come, Miss Clinton, you must notdeprive me altogether of hope; it is too cruel. Do not say no forever. "

The arch girl shook her head with something of mock solemnity, andreplied, "I must indeed, Mr. Burke; the fatal no must be pronounced, and in connection with forever too; and unless you have much virtueto sustain you, I fear you run a great risk of dying a martyr to anegative. I would fain hope, however, that the virtue I allude to, andyour well-known sense of religion, will support you under such a trial. "

This was uttered in a tone of grave ironical sympathy that not only gaveit peculiar severity, but intimated to Hycy that his character was fullyunderstood. 

"Well, Miss Clinton, " said he, rising with a countenance in which therewas a considerable struggle between self-conceit and mortification, astruggle which in fact was exceedingly ludicrous in its effect, "I mustonly hope that you probably may change your mind. "

"Mr. Burke, " said she, with a grave and serious dignity that wasdesigned to terminate the interview, "there are subjects upon which agirl of delicacy and principle never can change her mind, and this Ifeel obliged to say, once for all, is one of them. I am now my uncle'shousekeeper, " she added, taking up a bunch of keys, "and you must permitme to wish you a good morning, " saying which, with a cool but verypolite inclination of her head, she dismissed Hycy the accomplished, whocut anything but a dignified figure as he withdrew. 

"Well, " said her brother, who was reading a newspaper in the parlor, "isthe report favorable?"

"No, " replied Hycy, "anything but favorable. I fear, Harry, you have notplayed me fair in this business. "

"How is that?" asked the other, rather quickly. 

"I fear you've prejudiced your sister against me, and that instead ofgiving me a clear stage, you gave me the 'no favor' portion of the adageonly. "

"I am not in the habit of stating a falsehood, Hycy, nor of having anyassertion I make questioned; I have already told you, I think, that Iwould not prejudice my sister against you. I now repeat that I have notdone so; but I cannot account for her prejudices against you any morethan I shall attempt to contradict or combat them, so far from that Inow tell you, that if she were unfortunately disposed to many you, Iwould endeavor to prevent her. "

"And pray why so, Harry, if it is a fair question?"

"Perfectly fair; simply because I should not wish to see my sistermarried to a man unburthened with any kind of principle. In fact, without the slightest intention whatsoever, Hycy, to offer you offence, I must say that you are not the man to whom I should entrust Maria'speace and happiness; I am her only brother, and have a right to speak asI do. I consider it my duty. "

"Certainly, " replied Hycy, "if you think so, I cannot blame you; but Isee clearly that you misunderstand my character--that is all. "

They separated in a few minutes afterwards, and Hycy in a very seriousand irritable mood rode homewards. In truth his prospects at thispeculiar period were anything but agreeable. Here his love-suit, if itcould be called so, had just been rejected by Miss Clinton, in a mannerthat utterly precluded all future hope in that quarter. With KathleenCavanagh he had been equally unsuccessful. His brother Edward was now athome, too, a favorite with, and inseparable from his father, who of latemaintained any intercourse that took place between himself and Hycy, with a spirit of cool, easy sarcasm, that was worse than anger itself. His mother, also, in consequence of her unjustifiable attempts todefend her son's irregularities, had lost nearly all influence with herhusband, and if the latter should withdraw, as he had threatened todo, the allowance of a hundred a year with which he supplied him, hescarcely saw on what hand he could turn. With Kathleen Cavanagh and MissClinton he now felt equally indignant, nor did his friend Harry escapea strong portion of his ill-will. Hycy, not being overburthened witheither a love or practice of truth himself, could not for a moment yieldcredence to the assertion of young Clinton, that he took no stops toprejudice his sister against him. He took it for granted, therefore, that it was to his interference he owed the reception he had just got, and he determined in some way or other to repay him for the ill-serviceshe had rendered him. 

The feeling of doubt and uncertainty with which Bryan M'Mahon partedfrom his landlord and Fethertonge, the agent, after the interview wehave already described, lost none of their strength by time. Hycy'smemorial had been entrusted to Chevydale, who certainly promised to puthis case strongly before the Commissioners of Excise; and Bryan at firsthad every reason to suppose that he would do so. Whether in consequenceof that negligence of his promise, for which he was rather remarkable, or from some sinister influence that may have been exercised over him, it is difficult to say, but the fact was that Bryan had now only tendays between him and absolute ruin. He had taken the trouble to writeto the Secretary of Excise to know if his memorial had been laidbefore them, and supported by Mr. Chevydale, who, he said, knew thecircumstances, and received a reply, stating that no such memorialhad been sent, and that Mr. Chevydale had taken no steps in the matterwhatsoever. We shall not now enter into a detail of all the visitshe had made to his landlord, whom he could never see a second time, however, notwithstanding repeated solicitations to that effect. Fethertonge he did see, and always was assured by him that his case wassafe and in good hands. 

"You are quite mistaken, Bryan, " said he, "if you think that either heor I have any intention of neglecting your affair. You know yourself, however, that he has not a moment for anything at the present time butthis confounded election. The contest will be a sharp one, but when itis over we will take care of you. "

"Yes, but it will then be too late, " replied Bryan; "I will be then aruined man. "

"But, my dear Bryan, will you put no confidence in your friends? I tellyou you will not be ruined. If they follow up the matter so as to injureyou, we shall have the whole affair overhauled, and justice done you;otherwise we shall bring it before Parliament. "

"That may be all very well, " replied Bryan, "but it is rather odd thathe has not taken a single step in it yet. "

"The memorial is before the Board, " said the other, "for some time, andwe expect an answer every day. "

"But I know to the contrary, " replied Bryan, "for here is a letther fromthe Secretary stating that no such memorial ever came before them. "

"Never mind that, " replied Fethertonge, "he may not have seen it. TheSecretary! Lord bless you, he never reads a tenth of the memorials thatgo in. Show me the letter. See there now--he did not write it all; don'tyou see his signature is in a different, hand? Why will you not putconfidence in your friends, Bryan?"

"Because, " replied the independent and honest young fellow, "I don'tthink they're entitled to it--from me. They have neglected my businessvery shamefully, after having led me to think otherwise. I have nonotion of any landlord suffering his tenant to be ruined before his facewithout lifting a finger to prevent it. "

"Oh! fie, Bryan, you are now losing your temper. I shall say no more toyou. Still I can make allowances. However, go home, and keep yourmind easy, we shall take care of you, notwithstanding your ill humor. Stay--you pass Mr. Clinton's--will you be good! enough to call and tellHarry Clinton I wish to speak to him, and I will feel obliged?"

"Certainly, sir, " replied Bryan, "with pleasure. I wish you goodmorning. "

"Could it be possible, " he added, "that the hint Hycy Burke threw outabout young Clinton has any truth in it--'Harry Clinton will do you aninjury;' but more he would not say. I will now watch him well, for Icertainly cannot drame why he should be my enemy. "

He met Clinton on the way, however, to whom he delivered the message. 

"I am much obliged to you, " said he, "I was already aware of it; but nowthat I have met you, M'Mahon, allow me to ask if you have not entrusteda memorial to the care of Mr. Chevydale, in order that it might be sentup strongly supported by him to the Board of Excise?"

"I have, " said Bryan, "and it has been sent, if I am to believe Mr. Fethertonge. "

"Listen to me, my honest friend--don't believe Fethertonge, nor don'trely on Chevydale, who will do nothing more nor less than the agentallows him. If you depend upon either or both, you are a ruined man, andI am very much afraid you are that already. It has not been sent; butobserve that I mention this in confidence, and with an understandingthat, for the present, you will not name me in the matter. "

"I sartinly will not, " replied Bryan, who was forcibly struck withthe truth and warmth of interest that were evident in his language andmanner; "and here is a letter that I received this very mornin' from theSecretary of Excise, stating that no memorial on my behalf has been sentup to them at all. "

"Ay, just so; that is the true state of the matter. "

"What, in God's name, am I to do, then?" asked Bryan, in a state ofgreat and evident perplexity. 

"I shall tell you; go to an honest man--I don't say, observe, thatChevydale is not honest; but he is weak and negligent, and altogetherthe slave and dupe of his agent. Go to-morrow morning early, about eighto'clock, fetch another memorial, and wait upon Major Vanston; stateyour case to him plainly and simply, and, my life for yours, he willnot neglect you, at all events. Get a fresh memorial drawn up this veryday. "

"I can easily do that, " said Bryan, "for I have a rough copy of the oneI sent; it was Hycy Burke drew it up. "

"Hycy Burke, " repeated Clinton, starting with surprise, "do you tell meso?"

"Sartinly, " replied the other, "why do you ask?"

Clinton shook his head carelessly. "Well, " he said, "I am glad of it; itis better late than never. Hycy Burke"--he paused and looked serious amoment, --"yes, " he added, "I am glad of it. Go now and follow my advice, and you will have at least a chance of succeeding, and perhaps ofdefeating your enemies, that is, if you have any. "

The pressure of time rendered energy and activity necessary in the caseof Bryan; and, accordingly, about eight o'clock next morning, he wasseeking permission to speak to the man against whom he and his familyhad always conscientiously voted--because he had been opposed to thespirit and principles of their religion. 

Major Vanston heard his case with patience, inquired more minutely intothe circumstances, asked where Ahadarra was, the name of his landlord, and such other circumstance as were calculated to make the case clear. 

"Pray, who drew up this memorial?" he asked. 

"Mr. Hycy Burke, sir, " replied Bryan. 

"Ah, indeed, " said he, glancing with a singular meaning at M'Mahon. 

"You and Burke are intimate then?"

"Why, we are, sir, " replied Bryan, "on very good terms. "

"And now--Mr. 'Burke has obliged you, I suppose, because you have obligedhim?"

"Well, I don't know that he has obliged me much, " said Bryan, "but Iknow that I have obliged him a good deal. "

Vanston nodded and seemed satisfied. 

"Very well, " he proceeded; "but, with respect to this memorial. I can'tpromise you much. Leave it with me, however, and you shall probably hearfrom me again. I fear we are late in point of time; indeed, I have butfaint hopes of it altogether, and I would not recommend you to form anystrong expectations from the interference of any one; still, at the sametime, " he added, looking significantly at him, "I don't desire you todespair altogether. "

"He has as much notion, " thought Bryan, "of troubling his head about meor my memorial, as I have for standin' candidate for the county. D--nthem all! they think of nobody but themselves!"

CHAPTER XVIII. --A Family Dialogue

--Ahadarra not in for it--Bryan's Vote. 

Honest Jemmy Burke, we have already said, had brought home hissecond son, Edward, from school, for the purpose of training him toagricultural pursuits, having now abandoned all notions of devoting himto the Church, as he would have done had Hycy manifested towards himeven the ordinary proofs of affection and respect. 

"You druv me to it, Rosha, " said he to his wife; "but I'll let you bothknow that I'm able to be masther in my own house still. You have madeyour pet what he is; but I tell you that if God hasn't said it, you'llcurse one another with bitther hearts yet. "

"Well, sure you have your own way, " replied his wife, "but you wor everand always self-willed and headstrong. However, it's all the mane bloodthat's in you; it breaks your heart to see your son a gintleman; but inspite of your strong brogues and felt caubeen, a gentleman he is, anda gentleman he will be, an' that's all I have to say about it. You'lltache your pet to hate his brother, I'll go bail. "

"No, indeed, Rosha, " he replied, "I know my duty to God and my childre'betther than to turn them against one another; but it's only a proof ofhow little you know about Edward and his warm and lovin' heart, when youspake as you do. "

This indeed was true. Edward Burke was but a short time at home when hesaw clearly how matters stood in the family. He was in fact a youth of amost affectionate and generous disposition, and instead of attempting tomake the breach wider, as Hycy had he been in his place would have done, he did everything in his power to put the parties into a good stateof feeling with each other, and to preserve peace and harmony in thefamily. 

One morning, a few days after Hycy's rejection by Miss Clinton, theywere all at breakfast, "the accomplished" being in one of his musicaland polite moods, his father bland but sarcastic, and Edward in a stateof actual pain on witnessing the wilful disrespect or rather contemptthat was implied by Hycy towards his parents. "Well, Ned, " said hisfather, "didn't we spend a pleasant evenin' in Gerald Cavanagh's lastnight? Isn't Kathleen a darlin'?"

"She is a delightful girl, " replied Edward, "it can't be denied; indeed, I don't think I ever saw so beautiful a girl, and as for her figure, itis perfect--perfect. "

"Ay, " said the father, "and it's she that knows the difference between adecent sensible boy and a--gintleman--a highflyer. She was both kind andcivil to you, Ned. "

"I don't know as to the kindness, " replied Edward; "but she wascertainly civil and agreeable, and I don't think it's in her nature tobe anything else. "

"Except when she ought, " said his father; "but listen, Ned--dressyourself up, get a buff waistcoat, a green jockey coat, a riding whip, and a pair o' shinin' top-boots, titivate yourself up like a dandy, thengo to her wid lavendher water on your pocket-handkerchy, an' you'll seehow she'll settle you. Be my sowl, you'll be the happy boy when you gether; don't you think so, Misther Hycy?"

"Unquestionably, Mr. Burke, when you speak you shame an Oracle; as forMaster Ned--why--

 "'I'm owre young, --I'm owre young, I'm owre young to marry yet, I'm owre young, 'twould be a sin To take me from my Daddy yet. '

I think, Master Edward, the Boy-god has already taken occupation;the vituline affection for the fair Katsey has set in; heigho, what adelightful period of life is that soft and lickful one of calf love, when the tongue rolls about the dripping lips, the whites of the eyesare turned towards the divine, the ox-eyed Katsey, and you are ready tostagger over and blare out the otherwise unutterable affection. "

"Very well described, Hycy, I see you have not forgotten your Homeryet; but really Kathleen Cavanagh is a perfect Juno, and has the large, liquid, soft ox-eye in perfection. "

"Let me look at you, " said Hycy, turning round and staring at him witha good deal of surprise; "begad, brother Ned, let me ask where you gotyour connoisseurship upon women? eh? Oh, in the dictionary, I suppose, where the common people say everything is to be found. Observe me, Mr. Burke, you are taking your worthy son out of his proper vocation, theChurch. Send him to 'Maynewth, ' he is too good a connoisseur on beautyto be out of the Tribunal. "

"Hycy, " replied his brother, "these are sentiments that do you nocredit, it is easy to sneer at religion or those who administerit, --much easier than to praise the one, it would appear, or imitate thevirtues of the other. "

"Beautiful rebuke, " said Hycy, again staring at him; "why, MastherEdward, you are a prodigy of wonderful sense and unspotted virtue; love has made you eloquent--"'I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen, A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue, I gat my death frae twa sweet e'en, Twa lovely e'en o' bonnie blue, &c, &c. '"

"I am not in love yet, Hycy, but as my father wishes to bring about amarriage between Kathleen and myself, you know, " he added, smiling, "itwill be my duty to fall in love with her as fast as I can. "

"Dutiful youth! what a treasure you will prove to a dignified andgentlemanly parent, --to a fond and doting wife! Shall I however putforth my powers? Shall Hycy the accomplished interpose between Juno andthe calf? What sayest thou, my most amiable maternal relative, and whysittest thou so silent and so sad?"

"Indeed, it's no wondher I would, Hycy, " replied his mother, whomEdward's return had cast into complete dejection, "when I see yourfather strivin' to put between his own childre'. "

"Me, Rosha!" exclaimed her husband; "God forgive you for that! but whenI see that one of my childre' wont spake a word to me with respect orcivility--no, not even in his natural voice, it is surely time for ma totry if I can't find affection in his brother. "

"Ay, " said she, "that's your own way of it; but it's easy seen that youreggin' up Ned agin his brother, bringin' ill will and bad feelin' amonga family that was quiet before; ay, an' I suppose you'd be glad to seemy heart broke too, and indeed I didn't care it was, " and as she spokethe words? were accompanied by sobbings and tears. 

"Alas!" said Hyoy, still in the mock heroic--"where is the pride anddignity of woman? Remember, oh maternal relative, that you are themother of one Gracchus at least! Scorn the hydraulics, I say; abandonthe pathetic; cast sorrow to the winds, and--give me another cup oftea. "

Edward shook his head at him, as if remonstrating against this mostundutiful and contemptuous style of conversation to his mother. "Don'tgive way to tears, my dear mother, " he said; "indeed you do my fatherinjustice; he has neither said nor done anything to turn me againstHycy. Why should he? So far from that, I know that he loves Hycy atheart, all that he wishes is that Hycy would speak to him in his naturalvoice, and treat him with respect, and the feeling that surely is dueto him. And so Hycy will, father; I am sure he respects and loves you inspite of this levity and affectation. All we want is for each to giveup a little of his own way--when you become more respectful, Hycy, myfather's manner will change too: let us be at least sincere and naturalwith each other, and there is nothing that I can see to prevent us fromliving very happily. "

"I have some money saved, " said Burke, turning to his wife--"a goodpenny--too, more than the world thinks; and I declare to my God I wouldgive it twice over if I could hear that young man, " pointing to Hycy, "speak these words with the same heart and feelings of him that spokethem; but I fear that 'ud be a hopeless wish on my part, an' ever will. "

"No, father, " said Edward, "it will not--Hycy and you will soonunderstand one another. Hycy will see what, his duty towards you is, and, sooner than be the means of grieving your heart, he will change thefoolish and thoughtless habit that offends you. "

"Well, Edward, may God grant it, " exclaimed his father rising up frombreakfast, "and that's all I have to say----God grant it!"

"Why, Sir Oracle, junior, " said Hycy, after his father had gone out, "orrather Solomon Secundus, if you are now an unfledged philosopher on ourhand, what will you not be when your opinions are grown?"

"My dear brother, " replied Edward, I cannot see what on earth you canpropose to yourself by adopting this ridiculous style of conversationI cannot really see any object you can have in it. If it be to vex orannoy my father, can you blame him if he feels both vexed and annoyed atit. 

"Most sapiently said, Solomon Secundus--

 "'Solomon Lob was a ploughman stout, And a ranting cavalier; And, when the civil war broke out, It quickly did appear That Solomon Lob was six feet high, And fit for a grenadier. So Solomon Lob march'd boldly forth To sounds of bugle horns And a weary march had Solomon Lob, For Solomon Lob had corns. Row, --ra--ra--row--de--dow. '

"And so I wish you a good morning, most sapient Solomon. I go onbusiness of importance affecting--the welfare of the nation, or ratherof the empire at large--embracing all these regions, antipodial andotherwise, on which the sun never sets. Good morning, therefore;and, maternal relative, wishing the same to thee, with a less copiousexhibition of the hydraulics, a-hem!"

"Where is he going, mother, do you know?" asked Edward. 

"Indeed I don't know, Edward, " she replied; "he seldom or never tellsus anything about his motions; but it vexes me to think that his fatherwon't make any allowance for his lightheartedness and fine spirits. Surenow, Edward, you know yourself it's not raisonable to have a young manlike him mumpin' and mopin' about, as if there was a wake in the house?"

The only reply Edward made to this weak and foolish speech was, "Yes;but there is reason in everything, my dear mother. I have heard, " headded, "that he is working for the Tory candidate, Vanston, and hope itis not true. "

"Why, " said his mother, "what differ does it make?"

"Why, " replied the other, "that Vanston votes to keep us slaves, andChevydale to give us our political freedom: the one is opposed to ourreligion and our liberty, and the other votes for both. "

"Troth, as to religion, " observed the mother, "the poor boy doesn'ttrouble his head much about it--bat it's not aisy for one that goesinto jinteel society to do so--an' that's what makes Hycy ait mate of aFriday as fast as on any other day. "

"I am sorry to hear that, mother, " replied Edward; "but Hycy is a veryyoung man still, and will mend all these matters yet. "

"And that's what I'm tellin' his father, " she replied; "and if you'donly see the way he looks at me, and puts a _cuir_ (* a grin--mostlyof contempt) upon him so bitther that it would a'most take the skin offone. "

Edward's observations with respect to Hycy's having taken a part inforwarding the interests of Major Vanston were not without foundation. He and Bryan M'Mahon had of late been upon very good terms; and it sohappened that in the course of one of their conversations about KathleenCavanagh, Bryan had mentioned to him the fact of Kathleen's having heardthat he was pledged to vote with Vanston, and repeated the determinationto which she had resolved to come if he should do so. Now, it sohappened, that a portion of this was already well known to Hycy himself, who, in fact, was the very individual who had assured Major Vanston, and those who canvassed for him, that he himself had secured Bryan. On hearing now from Bryan that Kathleen had put the issue of theiraffection upon his political truth and consistency he resolved to availhimself of that circumstance if he could. On hearing, besides, however, that Harry Clinton had actually sent him (M'Mahon) to Vanston, and onbeing told, in the course of conversation, that that gentleman asked whohad drawn up the memorial, he felt that every circumstance was turningin his favor; for he determined now to saddle Clinton with the odiumwhich, in this treacherous transaction, was most likely to fall uponhimself. 

It is not our intention here to describe the brutal and disgracefulscenes that occur at an election. It is enough to say that, after along, bitter, and tedious struggle, the last day of it arrived. BryanM'Mahon, having fully satisfied himself that his landlord had not takena single step to promote his interests in the matter of the memorial, resolved from the beginning not to vote in his favor, and, of course, not to vote at all. 

On the morning of the last day, with the exception of himself alone, a single voter had not been left unpolled; and the position of the twocandidates was very peculiar, both having polled exactly the same numberof votes, and both being consequently equal. 

Bryan, having left home early, was at breakfast about eleven o'clock, ina little recess off the bar of the head-inn, which was divided fromone end of the coffee-room by a thin partition of boards, through whichanything spoken in an ordinary tone of voice in that portion of theroom could be distinctly heard. Our readers may judge of his surpriseon hearing the following short but pithy dialogue of which he himselfformed the subject matter. The speakers, with whom were assembledseveral of his landlord's committee, being no other than that worthygentleman and his agent. 

"What's to be done?" asked Chevydale; "here is what we call a dead heat. Can no one prevail on that obstinate scoundrel, the Ahadarra man--whatdo ye call, him? M'Master--M'Manus---M'--eh?"

"M'Mahon, " replied Fethertonge, "I fear not; but, at all events, wemust try him again. Vote or not, however, we shall soon clear him out ofAhadarra--we shall punish his insolence for daring to withhold hisvote; for, as sure as my name is Fethertonge, out he goes. The fine anddistillation affair, however, will save us a good deal of trouble, andof course I am very glad you declined to have anything to do with thesupport of his petition. The fellow is nothing else than shuffler, as Itold you. Vote or not, therefore, out of Ahadarra he goes; and, when hedoes, I have a good tenant to put in his place. "

M'Mahon's blood boiled on hearing this language, and he inwardly sworethat, let the consequences be what they might, a vote of his shouldnever go to the support of such a man. 

Again we return to Hycy Burke, who, when the day of the great strugglearrived, rode after breakfast on that same morning into Ballymacan, andinquired at the post-office if there were any letters for him. 

"No, " replied the postmaster; "but, if you see Bryan M'Mahon, tell himI have here one for him, from Major Vanston--it's his frank and hishandwriting. "

"I'm going directly to him, " said Hycy, "and will bring it to him; soyou had better hand it here. "

The postmaster gave him the letter, and in a few minutes Hycy was on hisway home with as much speed as his horse was capable of making. 

"Nanny, " said he, calling upon Nanny Peety, when he had put his horse inthe stable and entered the parlor, "will you fetch me a candle and somewarm water?"

"Yes, sir, " said Nanny; "but you must wait till I boil some, for there'snone hot. "

"Be quick, then, " said he, "for I'm in a devil of a hurry. Shut the doorafter you, I say. What is the reason that you never do so, often as Ihave spoken to you about it?"

"Becaise it's never done, " she replied; "nobody ever bids me shut it butyourself, an' that's what makes me forget it. "

"Well, I'll thank you, " he said, "to pay more attention to what I sayto you I have reason to think you both intrusive and ungrateful, Nanny;and, mark, unless you show me somewhat more submission, madam, you shallpitch your camp elsewhere. It was I brought you here. "

"Ax your own conscience why, Mr. Hycy. "

"Begone now and get me the hot water, " he said, with a frown of angerand vexation, heightened probably by the state of agitation into whichthe possession of Vanston's letter had already put him. 

We shall not follow him through all the ingenious and dishonorablemanoeuvres by which he got the communication safely open-ed; it isenough to say that, in the course of a few minutes, he was enabled toperuse the contents of Vanston's communication, which were as follows:--

Sir, --I beg to enclose you a letter which I received yesterday from theSecretary to the Board of Excise, and to assure you that I feel muchpleasure in congratulating you upon its contents, and the satisfactoryresult of your memorial. 

"I am, sir, very sincerely yours, "Egbert Vanston. 

"To Mr. Bryan M'Mahon, "Ahadarra. "

(The enclosed. )

"Sir, --I have had the honor of reading your communication in favor ofBryan M'Mahon, of Ahadarra, and of submitting that and his own memorialto the Commissioners of Excise, who, after maturely weighing thecircumstances, and taking into consideration the excellent characterwhich memoralist has received at your hands, have been pleased to reducethe fine originally imposed upon him to the sum of fifty pounds. TheCommissioners are satisfied that memorialist, having been in no wayconnected with the illicit distillation which was carried on upon hisproperty, is not morally liable to pay the penalty; but, as they havenot the power of wholly remitting it they have reduced it as far the lawhas given them authority. 

"I have the honor to be, sir, your faithful and obedient servant, "Francis Fathom. 

"To Major Vanston, &c, &c. "

Hycy, having perused these documents, re-sealed them in such a manner asto evade all suspicion of their having been opened. 

"Now, " thought he, "what is to be done? Upon the strength of this, it ispossible I may succeed in working up M'Mahon to vote for Vanston; forI know into what an enthusiasm of gratitude the generous fool will bethrown by them. If he votes for Vanston, I gain several points. Firstand foremost, the round some of three hundred. If I can get his vote, Iestablish my own veracity, which, as matters stand, will secureVanston the election; I, also, having already secretly assured the Torygentleman that I could secure him, or rather, I can turn my lie intotruth, and make Vanston my friend. Secondly, knowing as I do, that itwas by Harry Clinton's advice the clod-hopper went to him, I can shiftthe odium of his voting for Vanston upon that youth's shoulders, whosebody, by the way, does not contain a single bone that I like; and, thirdly, having by his apostacy and treachery, as it will be called, placed an insurmountable barrier between himself and the divineKatsey, I will change my course with Jemmy, the gentleman--my sarcasticdad--return and get reconciled with that whelp of a brother of mine, andby becoming a good Christian, and a better Catholic, I have no doubtbut I shall secure the 'Ox-eyed, ' as I very happily named her the othermorning. This, I think, will be making the most of the cards, and, asthe moment is critical, I shall seek the clod-hopper and place thisseasonable communication in his hands. "

He accordingly rode rapidly into town again, where he had not been manyminutes when he met M'Mahon, burning with indignation at the language ofhis landlord and the agent. 

"I cannot have patience, Hycy, " he exclaimed, "under such scoundrellylanguage as this; and while I have breath in my body, he never shallhave my vote!"

"What's the matter, Bryan?" he asked; "you seem flushed. "

"I do, Hycy, because I am flushed, and not without reason. I tell youthat my landlord, Chevydale, is a scoundrel, and Fethertonge a deceitfulvillain. "

"Pooh, man, is that by way of information? I thought you had somethingin the shape of novelty to tell me. What has happened, however, and whyare you in such a white heat of indignation?"

M'Mahon immediately detailed the conversation which he had overheardbehind the bar of the inn, and we need scarcely assure our readers thatHycy did not omit the opportunity of throwing oil upon the fire whichblazed so strongly. 

"Bryan, " said he, "I know the agent to be a scoundrel, and what isnearer the case still, I have every reason--but you must not ask me tostate them yet, --I have every reason to suspect that it is Fethertonge, countenanced by Chevydale, who is at the bottom of the distillationaffair that has ruined you. The fact is, they are anxious to get you outof Ahadarra, and thought that by secretly ruining you, they could mostplausibly effect it. "

"I have now no earthly doubt of it, Hycy, " replied the other. 

"You need not, " replied Hycy; "and maybe I'm not far astray when I say, that the hook-nosed old Still-hound, Clinton, is not a thousand milesfrom the plot. I could name others connected with some of them--but Iwont, now. "

When M'Mahon recollected the conversation which both Clinton and theagent had held with him, with respect to violating the law, the truthof Hycy's remark flashed upon him at once, and of course deepened hisindignation almost beyond endurance. 

"They are two d--d scoundrels, " pursued Hycy, "and I have reasons, besides, for suspecting that it was their wish, if they could have doneit successfully, to have directed your suspicions against myself. "

M'Mahon was, in fact, already convinced of this, and felt satisfiedthat he saw through and understood the whole design against him, and wasperfectly aware of those who had brought him to ruin. 

"By the way, " said Hycy, "let me not forget that I have been looking foryou this hour or two; here is a letter I got for you in! thepost-office this morning. It has Vanston's frank, and I think is in hishandwriting. "

M'Mahon's face, on perusing the letter, beamed with animation anddelight. "Here, Hycy, " said he, "read that; I'm safe yet, thank God, andnot a ruined man, as the villains thought to make me. "

"By my soul and honor, Bryan, " exclaimed the other, "that is noble onthe part of Vanston, especially towards an individual from whom, aswell as from his whole family, he has ever experienced the strongestopposition. However, if I were in your coat, I certainly would notsuffer him to outdo me in generosity. Good heavens! only contrast suchconduct with that of the other scoundrel, his opponent, and then see theconclusion you must come to. "

"Let Vanston be what he may, he's an honest man, " replied Bryan, "andin less than ten minutes I'll have him the sittin' member. I would beungrateful and ungenerous, as you say, Hycy, not to do so. Comealong--come along, I bid you. I don't care what they say. The man thatsaved me--who was his enemy--from ruin, will have my vote. "

They accordingly proceeded towards the court house, and on their wayHycy addressed him as follows:--"Now, Bryan, in order to give yourconduct an appearance of greater generosity, I will pretend to dissuadeyou against voting for Vanston, or, rather, I will endeavor, as it were, to get your vote for Chevydale. This will make the act more manly anddetermined on your part, and consequently one much more high-minded andcreditable to your reputation. You will show them, besides, that you arenot the cowardly slave of your landlord. "

It was accordingly so managed; the enthusiastic gratitude of the youngman overcame all considerations; and in a few minutes Major Vanston wasdeclared by the sheriff duly elected, by a majority of one vote only. 

It is no part of our intention to describe the fierce sensation whichthis victory created among the greater portion of the people. The tumultoccasioned by their indignation and fury was outrageous and ruffianly asusual; but as the election had now terminated, it soon ceased, and themobs began to disperse to their respective homes. Bryan for some threehours or so was under the protection of the military, otherwise he wouldhave been literally torn limb from limb. In the mean time we must followHycy. 

This worthy and straightforward young gentleman, having now accomplishedhis purpose, and been the means of M'Mahon having exposed himself topopular vengeance, took the first opportunity of withdrawing from himsecretly, and seeking Vanston's agent. Having found him, and retired outof hearing, he simply said--

"I will trouble you for three hundred. "

"You shall have it, " replied that honest gentleman; "you shall have it. We fully acknowledge the value of your services in this matter; it is tothem we owe our return. "

"There is no doubt in the matter, " replied Hycy; "but you know not mydifficulty, nor the dexterous card I had to play in accomplishing mypoint. "

"We are sensible of it all, " replied the other; "here, " said he, pullingout his pocket-book, "are three notes for one hundred each. "

"Give me two fifties, " said Hycy, "instead of this third note, and youwill oblige me. By the way, here is the major. " With this the otherimmediately complied, without the major having been in any way cognizantof the transaction. 

On entering the inner room where they stood, Vanston shook hands mostcordially with Hycy, and thanked him in very warm language for the parthe took, to which he had no hesitation in saying he owed his return. 

"Look upon me henceforth as a friend, Mr. Burke, " he added, "and asincere one, who will not forget the value of your influence with theyoung man whose vote has gained me the election. I have already servedhim essentially, --in fact saved him from ruin, and I am very glad ofit. "

"I really feel very much gratified, Major Vanston, that I have had it inmy power, " replied Hycy, "to render you any service of importance; andif I ever should stand in need of a favor at your hands, I shall nothesitate to ask it. "

"Nor I to grant it, Mr. Burke, if it be within the reach of myinfluence. "

"In the mean time, " said Hycy, "will you oblige me with a single franc?"

"Certainly, Mr. Burke; with half a dozen of them. "

"Thank you, sir, one will be quite sufficient; I require no more. "

The major, however, gave him half a dozen of them, and after somefurther chat, and many expressions of obligation on the part of the newM. P. , Hycy withdrew. 

CHAPTER XIX. --Bryan Bribed--is Rejected by Kathleen. 

In the course of about two or three hours after the transaction alreadystated, old Peety Dim was proceeding towards the post-office with aletter, partly in his closed hand, and partly up the inside of hissleeve, so as that it might escape observation. The crowds were stilltumultuous, but less so than in the early part of the day; for, as wesaid, they were diminishing in numbers, those who had been so long fromhome feeling a natural wish to return to their families and the variousoccupations and duties of life which they had during this protractedcontest been forced to neglect. Peety had got as far as themarket-house--which was about the centre of the street--on his way, wesay, to the post-office, when he met his daughter Nanny, who, after afew words of inquiry, asked him where he was going. 

"Faith, an' that's more than I dare tell you, " he replied. 

"Why, " she said, "is there a saicret in it, I'm sure you needn't keep itfrom me, whatever it is. "

This she added in a serious and offended tone, which, however, was notlost on the old man. 

"Well, " said he, "considherin' the man he is, an' what you know abouthim, I think I may as well tell you. It's a letther I'm bringin' to slipinto the post-office, unknownst. "

"Is it from Hycy?" she asked. 

"From Hycy, and no other. "

"I'll hould a wager, " she replied, "that that's the very letther I seenhim openin' through the key hole doar this mornin'. Do you know who it'sto?" she inquired. 

"Oh, the sorra know; he said it was a love-letther, and that he did notwish to be seen puttin' it in himself. "

"Wait, " said she, "give it to me here for a minute; here's FatherM'Gowan comin' up, and I'll ax him who it's directed to. "

She accordingly took the letter out of his hand, and approaching thepriest, asked him the name of the person to whom it was addressed. 

"Plaise your reverence, " she said, "what name's on the back of this?--Imane, " said she, "who is goin' to?"

The priest looked at it, and at once replied, "It is goin' to BryanM'Mahon, of Ahadarra, the traitor, and it comes from Major Vanston, the enemy to his liberty and religion, that his infamous vote put intoParliament, to rivet our chains, and continue our degradation. So there, girl, you have now the bigot from whom it comes, and the apostate towhom it goes. Who gave it to you?"

Nanny, who from some motives of her own, felt reluctant to mentionHycy's name in the matter, hastily replied, "A person, plaise yourreverence, from Major Vanston. "

"Very well, girl, discharge your duty, " said the priest; "but I tellyou the devil will never sleep well till he has his clutches in the sameMajor, as well as in the shameless apostate he has corrupted. "

Having uttered these words, he passed on, and Nanny in a minute or twoafterwards returned the letter to her father, who with his own hands putit into the post-office. 

"Now, " said she to her father, "the people is scatterin' themselveshomewards; and the streets is gettin' clear--but listen--that letteris directed to Bryan M'Mahon; will you keep about the post-office here;Bryan's in town, an' it's likely when the danger's over that he may bepassin'. Now you know that if he does, the people in the shop where thepost-office is kep' will see him, an' maybe he'll get the letter to-day, or I'll tell you what, watch Hycy; take my word for it, he has somescheme afoot. "

"Hycy's no favorite wid you, Nanny. "

"Why you know he's not, an' indeed I don't know why he's one wid you. "

"Throth an' he is, many a shillin' an' sixpence he throws me, --alwaysdoes indeed wherever he meets me. "

"No matter, maybe the day will soon come when you'll change your opinionof him, that's all I say, except to keep your eye on him; and I'll tellyou why I bid you, some day soon. "

"Well, achora, maybe I may change my opinion of him; but at present Isay he is my favorite, an' will be so, till I know worse about him. "

Nanny, having bade him good-bye, and repeated her wish that the old manwould watch the post-office for some time, proceeded up the streetin the direction of the grocer's, to whom she had been dispatched forgroceries. 

Two hours more had now elapsed, the crowds were nearly dispersed, andthe evening was beginning to set in, when Hycy Burke called at thepost-office, and for the second time during the day, asked if there wasa letter for him. 

The post-master searched again, and replied, "No; but here's another forBryan M'Mahon. "

"What!" he exclaimed, "another for Bryan! Why he must have an extensivecorrespondence, this Bryan M'Mahon. I wonder who it's from. "

"There's no wonder at all about it, " replied the post-master, "it's fromMajor Vanston. Here's his frank and handwriting in the direction andall. "

"Allow me to look, " said Hycy, glancing at it. "Yes, you are quiteright, that is the gallant Major's hand, without any mistake whatsoever. I will not fetch him this letter, " he proceeded, "because I know notwhen I may see him; but if I see him, I shall tell him. "

Peety Dim, who had so placed himself in the shop attached to thepost-office, on seeing Hycy approach, that he might overhear thisconversation without being seen, felt, considerably surprised that Hycyshould seem to have been ignorant that there was a letter for M'Mahon, seeing that it was he himself who had sent it there. He consequentlybegan to feel that there was some mystery in the matter; but whatever itmight be, he knew that it was beyond his power to develop. 

On coming forward from the dark part of the shop, where he had beenstanding, he asked the post-master if there was a second letter forM'Mahon. 

"No, " replied the man, "there is only the one. If you see him, tell himthere's a letter from Major Vanston in the office for him. "

We must still trace Hycy's motions. On leaving the post-office, he wentdirectly to the Head Inn, where he knew Bryan M'Mahon was waiting untilthe town should become perfectly calm and quiet. Here he found Bryan, whose mind was swayed now to one side and now to another, on consideringthe principle on which he had voted, and the consequences to which thatact might expose him. 

"I know I will have much to endure, " he thought, while pacing the roomby himself in every way, "but I little value anything the world at largemay think or say, so that I don't lose the love and good opinion ofKathleen Cavanagh. "

"Why, Bryan, " said Hycy, as he entered, "I think you must provide asecretary some of these days, your correspondence is increasing sorapidly. "

"How is that?" inquired the other. 

"Simply that there's another letter in the post-office for you, and if Idon't mistake, from the same hand--that of our friend the Major. "

"I'm not aware of anything he could have to write to me about now, "replied Bryan; "I wonder what can it be?"

"If you wish I shall fetch you the letter, " said Hycy, "as you have anobjection I suppose to go out until the town is empty. "

"Thank you, Hycy, I'll feel obliged to you if you do; and Hycy, bythe way, I am sorry that you and I ever mistook or misunderstood oneanother; but sich things happen to the best of friends, and why shouldwe hope to escape?"

"Speak only for yourself, Bryan, " replied Hycy, "the misunderstandingwas altogether on your side, not on mine. I always knew your value andesteemed you accordingly. I shall fetch your letter immediately. "

On returning he placed the document aforesaid in M'Mahon's hands, and said, in imitation of his friend Teddy Phats--"Come now, read herup. " Bryan opened the letter, and in the act of doing so a fifty poundnote presented itself, of which, as it had been cut in two, one halffell to the ground. 

"Hallo!" exclaimed Hycy, suddenly taking it up, "this looks well--whathave we here? A fifty pound note!"

"Yes, " replied Bryan; "but why cut in two? here however is somethingwritten, too--let me see--

"'Accept this as an earnest of better things for important services. Thefine imposed upon you has been reduced to fifty pounds--this will payit. 

"A DEEPLY OBLIGED FRIEND. '"

The two young men looked at each other for some time without speaking. At length M'Mahon's face became crimsoned with indignation!

"Who could have dared to do this?" said he, once more looking at thebank-note and the few lines that accompanied it. "Who durst supposethat a M'Mahon would sell his vote for a bribe? Did Vanston suppose thatmoney would sway me? for this I am sure must be his work. "

"Don't be too sure of that, " replied Hycy; "don't be too sure that it'snot some one that wishes you worse than Vanston does. In my opinion, Bryan, that letter and the note contained in it were sent to you bysome one who wishes to have it whispered abroad that you were bribed. Itsurely could not be Vanston's interest to injure your character or yourcircumstances in any sense; and I certainly think him too honorable todeal in an anonymous bribe of that kind. "

"Some scoundrel has done it, that's clear; but what would you have me todo, Hycy? You are up to life and know the world a great deal better thanI do; how ought I to act now?"

"I'll tell you candidly, my dear Bryan, how I think you ought to act, orat least how I would act myself if I were in your place. " He then pausedfor a minute and proceeded:--"You know I may be wrong, Bryan, but Ishall advise you at all events honestly, and to the best of my ability. I would keep this letter and this note, and by the way, what else canyou do?--I would say nothing whatsoever about it. The secret, you know, rests with yourself and me, with the exception of the party that sentit. Now, mark me, I say--if the party that sent this be a friend, therewill be no more about it--it will drop into the grave; but if it camefrom an enemy the cry of bribery will be whispered about, and there willbe an attack made on your character. In this case you can be at no lossas to the source from whence the communication came--Fethertonge willthen most assuredly be the man; or, harkee, who knows but the wholething is an electioneering trick resorted to for the purpose ofimpugning your vote, and of getting Vanston out on petition andscrutiny. Faith and honor, Bryan, I think that this last is the truereading. "

"I'm inclined to agree with you there, " replied Bryan, "that looks likethe truth; and even then I agree with you still that Fethertonge is atthe bottom of it. Still how am I to act?"

"In either case, Bryan, precisely as I said. Keep the letter and thebank-note; say nothing about it--that is clearly your safest plan; donot let them out of your hands, for the time may come when it will benecessary to your own character to show them. "

"Well, then, I will be guided by you, Hycy. As you say no one knows thesecret but yourself and me; if it has come from a friend he will saynothing about it, but if it has come from an enemy it will be whisperedabout; but at all events I have you as proof that it did not come to meby any bargain of mine. "

Hycy spoke not a word, but clapped him approvingly on the shoulder, asmuch as to say--"Exactly so, that is precisely the fact, " and thus endedthe dialogue. 

We all know that the clearer the mirror the slighter will be the breathnecessary to stain it; on the breast of an unsullied shirt the mostminute speck will be offensively visible. So it is with human characterand integrity. Had Bryan M'Mahon belonged to a family of mere ordinaryreputation--to a family who had generally participated in all the goodand evil of life, as they act upon and shape the great mass of society, his vote might certainly have created much annoyance to his party fora very brief period--just as other votes given from the usualmotives--sometimes right and honorable--sometimes wrong andcorrupt--usually do. In his case, however, there was somethingcalculated to startle and alarm all those who knew and were capable ofappreciating the stainless honor and hereditary integrity of the family. The M'Mahon's, though inoffensive and liberal in their intercourse withthe world, even upon matters of a polemical nature, were neverthelessdeeply and devotedly attached to their own religion, and to all thosewho in any way labored or contributed to relieve it of its disabilities, and restore those who professed it to that civil liberty which had beenso long denied them. This indeed was very natural on the part of theM'Mahons, who would sooner have thought of taking to the highway, orburning their neighbor's premises, than supporting the interests orstrengthening the hands of any public man placed, in a position to usea hostile influence against them. There was only one other family in thebarony, who in all that the M'Mahon's felt respecting their religion andcivil liberty, Were far in advance of them. These were the Cavanaghs, between whom and the M'Mahons their existed so many strong pointsof resemblance that they only differed from the others indegree--especially on matters connected with religion and itsprivileges. In these matters the Cavanaghs were firm, stern, andinflexible--nay, so heroic was the enthusiasm and so immovable theattachment of this whole family to their creed, that we have nohesitation whatever in saying that they would have laid down their livesin its defence, or for its promotion, had such a sacrifice been demandedfrom them. On such a family, then, it is scarcely necessary todescribe the effects of what was termed Bryan M'Mahon's apostacy. Theintelligence came upon them in fact like a calamity. On the very eveningbefore, Gerald Cavanagh, now a fierce advocate for Edward Burke, having, in compliance with old Jemmy, altogether abandoned Hycy, had been urgingupon Kathleen the prudence and propriety of giving Bryan M'Mahon up, andreceiving the address of young Burke, who was to inherit the bulk of hisfather's wealth and property; and among other arguments against M'Mahonhe stated a whisper then gaining ground, that it was his intention tovote for Vanston. 

"But I know to the contrary, father, " said Kathleen, "for I spoke tohim on that very subject, and Bryan M'Mahon is neither treacherous norcowardly, an' won't of course abandon his religion or betray it into thehands of its enemies. Once for all, then, " she added, calmly, and witha smile full of affection and good humor, "I say you may spare bothyourself and me a great deal of trouble, my dear father, I grant youthat I like and esteem Edward Burke as a friend, an' I think that hereally is what his brother Hycy wishes himself to be thought--a truegentleman--but that is all, father, you know; for I would scorn toconceal it, that Bryan M'Mahon has my affections, and until he provesfalse to his God, his religion, and his country, I will never provefalse to him nor withdraw my affections from him. "

"For all that, " replied her father, "it's strongly suspected that he'sgoin' over to the tories, an' will vote for Vanston to-morrow. "

Kathleen rose with a glowing cheek, and an eye sparkling with anenthusiastic trust in her lover's faith; "No, father, " said she, "by thelight of heaven above us, he will never vote for Vanston--unless Vanstonbecomes the friend of our religion. I have only one worthless life, butif I had a thousand, and that every one of them was worth a queen's, I'dstake them all on Bryan M'Mahon's truth. If he ever turns traitor--letme die before I hear it, I pray God this night!"

As she spoke, the tears of pride, trust, and the noble attachment bywhich she was moved, ran down her cheeks; in fact, the natural dignityand high moral force of her character awed them, and her fathercompletely subdued, simply replied:--

"Very well, Kathleen; I'll say no more, dear; I won't press the matteron you again, and so I'll tell Jemmy Burke. "

Kathleen, after wiping away her tears, thanked him, and said with asmile, and in spite of the most boundless confidence in the integrityof her lover, "never, at any rate, father, until Bryan M'Mahon turns atraitor to his religion and his country. "

On the evening of the next day, or rather late at night, her fatherreturned from the scene of contest, but very fortunately for Kathleen'speace of mind during that night, he found on inquiry that she and Hannahad been for a considerable time in bed. The following morning Hanna, who always took an active share in the duties of the family, and whowould scarcely permit her sister to do anything, had been up a shorttime before her, and heard from her mother's lips the history of Bryan'streachery, as it was now termed by all. We need scarcely say that shewas deeply affected, and wept bitterly. Kathleen, who rose a few minutesafterwards, thought she saw her sister endeavoring to conceal herface, but the idea passed away without leaving anything like a fixedimpression upon it. Hanna, who was engaged in various parts of thehouse, contrived still to keep her face from the observation ofher sister, until at length the latter was ultimately struck by thecircumstance as well as by Hanna's unusual silence. Just as her fatherhad entered to breakfast, a sob reached her ears, and on going over toinquire if anything were wrong, Hanna, who was now fairly overcome, andcould conceal her distress no longer, ran over, and throwing herself onKathleen's neck, she exclaimed in a violent burst of grief, "Kathleen, my darling sister, what will become of you! It's all true. Bryan hasproved false and a traitor; he voted for Vanston yesterday, and thatvote has put the bitter enemy of our faith into Parliament. "

"Bryan M'Mahon a traitor!" exclaimed Kathleen; "no, Hanna--no, Isay--a thousand times no. It could not be--the thing isimpossible--impossible!"

"It is as true as God's in heaven, that he voted yesterday for Vanston, "said her father; "I both seen him and heard him, an' that vote it wasthat gained Vanston the election. "

Hanna, whose arms were still around her sister's neck, felt her staggerbeneath her on hearing those words from her father. 

"You say you saw him, father, and h'ard him vote for Vanston. You sayyou did?"

"I both seen the traitor an' h'ard him, " replied the old man. 

"Hanna, dear, let me sit down, " said Kathleen, and Hanna, encircling herwith one hand, drew a chair over with the other, on which, with a cheekpale as death, her sister sat, whilst Hanna still wept with her armsabout her. After a long silence, she at last simply said:--

"I must bear it; but in this world my happiness is gone. "

"Don't take it so much to heart avourneen, " said her mother; "but, anyway, hadn't you betther see himself, an' hear what he has to say forhimself. Maybe, afther all, it's not so bad as it looks. See him, Kathleen; maybe there's not so much harm in it yet. "

"No, mother, see him I will not, in that sense--Bryan M'Mahon a traitor!Am I a dreamer? I am not asleep, and Bryan M'Mahon is false to God andhis country! I did think that he would give his life for both, if he wascalled upon to do so; but not that he would prove false to them as hehas done. "

"He has, indeed, " said her father, "and the very person you hate somuch, bad as you think him, did all in his power to prevent him fromdoin' the black deed. I seen that, too, and h'ard it. Hycy persuaded himas much as he could against it; but he wouldn't listen to him, nor payhim any attention. "

"Kathleen, " said her sister, "the angels in heaven fell, and surely itisn't wonderful that even a good man should be tempted and fall from thetruth as they did?"

Kathleen seemed too much abstracted by her distress to hear this. She looked around at them all, one after another, and said in a low, composed, and solemn voice, "All is over now between that young man andme--and here is one request which I earnestly entreat you--every one ofyou--to comply with. "

"What is it darling?" said her mother. 

"It is, " she replied, "never in my hearing to mention his name while Ilive. As for myself, I will never name him!"

"And think, after all, " observed her father, "of poor Hycy bein' true tohis religion!"

It would seem that her heart was struggling to fling the image ofM'Mahon from it, but without effect. It was likely she tried to hate himfor his apostacy, but she could not. Still, her spirit was darkened withscorn and indignation at the act of dishonor which she felt her loverhad committed, just as the atmosphere is by a tempest. In fact, shedetested what she considered the baseness and treachery of the vote; butcould not of a sudden change a love so strong, so trusting, and so pureas hers, into the passions of enmity and hatred. No sooner, however, hadher father named Hycy Burke with such approval, than the storm withinher directed itself against him, and she said, "For God's sake, father, name not that unprincipled wretch to me any more. I hate and detesthim more than any man living he has no good quality to redeem him. Ah! Hanna, Hanna, and is it come to this? The dream of my happiness hasvanished, and I awake to nothing now but affliction and sorrow. As forhappiness, I must think of that no more, father, after breakfast, do yougo up to that young man and tell him the resolution I have come to, andthat it is over for ever between him and. Me. "

Soon after this, she once more exacted a promise from them to observe astrict silence on the unhappy event which had occurred, and by nomeans ever to attempt offering her consolation. These promises theyreligiously kept, and from this forth neither M'Mahon's name nor hisoffence were made the topics of any conversation that occurred betweenthem. 

CHAPTER XX. --M'Mahon is Denounced from the Altar

--Receives his Sentence from Kathleen, and Resolves to Emigrate. 

Whatever difficulty Bryan M'Mahon had among his family in defending thecourse he had taken at the election, he found that not a soul belongingto his own party would listen to any defense from him. The indignation, obloquy, and spirit of revenge with which he was pursued and harassed, excited in his heart, as they would in that of any generous manconscious of his own integrity, a principle of contempt and defiance, which, however they required independence in him, only made matters farworse than they otherwise would have been. He expressed neither regretnor repentance for having voted as he did; but on the contrary assertedwith a good deal of warmth, that if the same course lay open to him hewould again pursue it. 

"I will never vote for a scoundrel, " said he, "and I don't think thatthere is anything in my religion that makes it a duty on me to do so. Ifmy religion is to be supported by scoundrels, the sooner it is forcedto depend on itself the better. Major Vanston is a good landlord, andsupports the rights of his tenantry, Catholic as well as Protestant; hesaved me from ruin when my own landlord refused to interfere for me, an' Major Vanston, if he's conscientiously opposed to my religion, is anhonest man at all events, and an honest man I'll ever support againsta rogue, and let their politics go where they generally do, go to thedevil. "

Party is a blind, selfish, infatuated monster, brutal and vehement, thatknows not what is meant by reason, justice, liberty, or truth. M'Mahon, merely because he gave utterance with proper spirit to sentiments ofplain common sense, was assailed by every description of abuse, until heknew not where to take refuge from that cowardly and ferocious tyrannywhich in a hundred shapes proceeded from the public mob. On theSunday after the election, his parish priest, one of those politicalfire-brands, who whether under a mitre or a white band, are equallydisgraceful and detrimental to religion and the peaceful interestsof mankind--this man, we say, openly denounced him from the altar, inlanguage which must have argued but little reverence for the sacredplace from which it was uttered, and which came with a very bad gracefrom one who affected to be an advocate for liberty of conscience and aminister of peace. 

"Ay, " he proceeded, standing on the altar, "it is well known to ourdisgrace and shame how the election was lost. Oh, well may I say to ourdisgrace and shame. Little did I think that any one, bearing the oncerespectable name of M'Mahon upon him, should turn from the interests ofhis holy church, spurn all truth, violate all principle, and enter intoa league of hell with the devil and the enemies of his church. Yes, youapostate, " he proceeded, "you have entered into a league with him, andever since there is devil within you. You sold yourself to his agent andrepresentative, Vanston, You got him to interfere for you with theBoard of Excise, and the fine that was justly imposed on you for yoursmugglin' and distillin' whiskey--not that I'm runin' down our whiskey, because it's the best drinkin of that kind we have, and drinks beautifulas scalhleen, wid a bit of butther and sugar in it--but it's notoriousthat you went to Vanston, and offered if he'd get the fine off you, that you'd give him your vote; an' if that's not sellin' yourself to thedevil, I don't know what is. Judas did the same thing when he betrayedour Savior--the only difference is--that he got a thirty shillingnote--an' God knows it was a beggarly bargain--when his hand was in heought to have done the thing dacent--and you got the fine taken offyou; that's the difference--that's the difference. But there's more tocome--more corruption where that was. Along wid the removal of the fineyou got a better note than Mr. Judas got. Do you happen to know anythingabout a fifty pound note cut in two halves? Eh? Am I tickling you? Doyou happen to know anything about that, you traicherous apostate? Ifyou don't, I do; and plaise God before many hours the public will knowenough of it, too. How dare you, then, polute the house of God, or comein presence of His Holy altar, wid such a crust of crimes upon yoursoul? Can you deny that you entered into a league of hell wid the deviland Major Vanston, and that you promised him your vote if he'd get thefine removed?"

"I can, " replied Bryan; "there's not one word of truth in it. "

"Do you hear that, my friends?" exclaimed the priest; "he calls yourpriest a liar upon the altar of the livin' God. "

Here M'Mahon was assailed by such a storm of groans and hisses as, tosay the least of it, was considerably at variance with the principles ofreligion and the worship of God. 

"Do you deny, " the priest proceeded, "that you received a bribe of fiftypounds on the very day you voted? Answer me that. "

"I did receive a fifty-pound note in a--"

Further he could not proceed. It was in vain that he attempted to givea true account of the letter and its enclosure; the enmity was notconfined to either groans or hisses. He was seized upon in the verychapel, dragged about in all directions, kicked, punched, and beaten, until the apprehension of having a murder committed in presence ofGod's altar caused the priest to interfere. M'Mahon, however, wasejected from the chapel; but in such a state that, for some minutes, itcould scarcely be ascertained whether he was alive or dead. After he hadsomewhat recovered, his friends assisted him home, where he lay confinedto a sick bed for better than a week. 

Such is a tolerably exact description of scenes which have toofrequently taken place in the country, to the disgrace of religion andthe dishonor of God. We are bound to say, however, that none amongthe priesthood encourage or take a part in them, unless those low andbigoted firebrands who are alike remarkable for vulgarity and ignorance, and who are perpetually inflamed by that meddling spirit which temptsthem from the quiet path of duty into scenes of political strife andenmity, in which they seem to be peculiarly at home. Such scenes arerepulsive to the educated priest, and to all who, from superior mindsand information, are perfectly aware that no earthly or other good, but, on the contrary, much bitterness, strife, and evil, ever result fromthem. 

Gerald Cavanagh was by no means so deeply affected by M'Mahon's voteas were his two daughters. He looked upon the circumstance as onecalculated to promote the views which he entertained for Kathleen'shappiness. Ever since the notion of her marriage with Hycy Burke orhis brother--it mattered little to him which--he felt exceedinglydissatisfied with her attachment to M'Mahon. Of this weakness, which wemay say, was the only one of the family, we have already spoken. Helost little time, however, in going to communicate his daughter'sdetermination to that young man. It so happened, however, that, notwithstanding three several journeys made for the purpose, he couldnot see him; the fact being that Bryan always happened to be fromhome when he went. Then came the denouncing scene which we have justdescribed, when his illness put it out of his power, without danger tohimself, to undergo anything calculated to discompose or disturb him. The popular feeling, however, was fearfully high and indignant againsthim. The report went that he had called Father M'Pepper, the seniorcurate, a liar upon the very altar; and the commencement ofhis explanation with respect to the fifty-pound note, was, notunnaturally--since they would not permit him to speak--construed into anopen admission of his having been bribed. 

This was severe and trying enough, but it was not all. Chevydale, whomhe unseated by his vote, after having incurred several thousand poundsof expense, was resolved to make him suffer for the loss of his seat, aswell as for having dared to vote against him--a purpose in which he wasstrongly supported, or into which, we should rather say, he was urged byFethertonge, who, in point of fact, now that the leases had dropped, wasnegotiating a beneficial bargain with the gauger, apart from Chevydale'sknowledge, who was a feeble, weak-minded man, without experience or aproper knowledge of his duties. In fact, he was one of, those personswho, having no fixed character of their own, are either good or evil, according to the principles of those by whom they happen for the time tobe managed. If Chevydale had been under the guidance of a sensible andhumane agent, he would have been a good landlord; but the fact beingotherwise, he was, in Fethertonge's hands, anything but what a landlordought to be. Be this as it may, the period of M'Mahon's illness passedaway, and, on rising from his sick bed, he found the charge of briberyone of universal belief, against which scarcely any person had thecourage to raise a voice. Even Hycy suffered himself, as it were, withgreat regret and reluctance, to become at length persuaded of its truth. Kathleen, on hearing that he himself had been forced to admit it in thechapel, felt that the gloom which had of late wrapped her in itsshadow now became so black and impervious that she could seenothing distinctly. The two facts--that is to say, the vote and thebribery--seemed to her like some frightful hallucination which lay uponher spirits--some formidable illusion that haunted her night and day, and filled her whole being with desolation and sorrow. 

With respect to his own feelings, there was but one thought which gavehim concern, and this was an apprehension that Kathleen might be carriedaway by the general prejudice which existed against him. 

"I know Kathleen, however, " he would say; "I know her truth, her goodsense, and her affection; and, whatever the world may say, she won'tfollow its example and condemn me without a hearing. I will see hertomorrow and explain all to her. Father, " he added, "will you ask Doraif she will walk with me to the Long-shot Meadow? I think a stroll roundit will do me good. I haven't altogether recovered my strength yet. "

"To be sure I will go with you, Bryan, " said the bright-eyed andaffectionate sister; "to be sure I will; it's on my way to GeraldCavanagh's; and I'm going down to see how they are, and to know ifsomething I heard about them is thrue. I want to satisfy myself; butthey musn't get on their high horse with me, I can tell them. "

"You never doubted me, Dora, " said Bryan, as they went along--"you neversupposed for a moment that I could"--he paused. "I know, " he added, "that it doesn't look well; but you never supposed that I acted fromtreachery, or deceit, or want of affection or respect for my religion?You don't suppose that what all the country is ringin' with--that I tooka bribe or made a bargain with Vanston--is true?"

"Why do you ask me such questions?" she replied. "You acted on the spurof the minute; and I say, afther what you heard from the landlord andagent, if you had voted for him you'd be a mane, pitiful hound, unworthyof your name and family. You did well to put him out. If I had been inyour place, 'out you go, ' I'd say, 'you're not the man for my money. 'Don't let what the world says fret you, Bryan; sure, while you haveKathleen and me at your back, you needn't care about them. At any rate, it's well for Father M'Pepper that I'm not a man, or, priest as heis, I'd make a stout horsewhip tiche him to mind his religion, and notintermeddle in politics where he has no business. "

"Why, you're a great little soldier, Dora, " replied Bryan, smiling onher with affectionate admiration. 

"I hate anything tyrannical or overbearing, " she replied, "as I doanything that's mane and ungenerous. "

"As to Father M'Pepper, we're not to take him as an example of what hisbrother priests in general are or ought to be. The man may think he isdoing only his duty; but, at all events, Dora, he has proved to me, verymuch at my own cost, I grant, that he has more zeal than discretion! MayGod forgive him; and that's the worst I wish him. When did you see orhear from Kathleen? I long to give her an explanation of my conduct, because I know she will listen to raison. "

"That's more than I know yet, then, " replied Dora. "She has awful highnotions of our religion, an' thinks we ought to go about huntin' aftermartyrdom. Yes, faix, she thinks we ought to lay down our lives for ourreligion or our counthry, if we were to be called on to do so. Isn'tthat nice doctrine? She's always reading books about them. "

"It is, Dora, and thrue doctrine; and so we ought--that is, if ourdeaths would serve either the one or the other. "

"And would you die for them, if it went to that? because if you would, Iwould; for then I'd know that I ought to do it. "

"I don't know, Dora, whether I'd have strength or courage to do so, butI know one who would. "

"I know too--Kathleen. "

"Kathleen? you have said it. She would, I am certain, lay down herlife for either her religion or the welfare of her country, if such asacrifice could be necessary. "

"Bryan, I have heard a thing about her, and I don't know whether I oughtto tell it to you or not. "

"I lave that to your own discretion, Dora; but you haven't heard, norcan you tell me anything, but what must be to her credit. "

"I'll tell you, then; I heard it, but I won't believe it till I satisfymyself--that your family daren't name your name to her at home, and thateverything is to be over between you. Now, I'm on my way there to knowwhether this is true or not; if it is, I'll think less of her than Iever did. "

"And I won't Dora; but will think more highly of her still. She thinksI'm as bad as I'm reported to be. "

"And that's just what she ought not to think. Why not see you and askyou the raison of it like a--ha! ha!--I was goin' to say like a man?Sure if she was as generous as she ought to be, she'd call upon you toexplain yourself; or, at any rate, she'd defend you behind your back, and, when the world's against you, whether you wor right or wrong. "

"She'd do nothing at the expense of truth, " replied her brother. 

"Truth!" exclaimed the lively and generous girl, now catching the warmthfrom her own enthusiasm, "truth! who'd regard truth--"

"Dora!" exclaimed Bryan, with a seriocomic smile. 

"Ha! ha! ha!--truth! what was I sayin'? No, I didn't mean to sayanything against truth; oh, no, God forgive me!" she added, immediatelysoftening, whilst her bright and beautiful eyes filled with tears, "oh, no, nor against my darlin' Kathleen either; for, Bryan, I'm tould thatshe has never smiled since; and that the color that left her cheeks whenshe heard of your vote has never come back to it; and that, in short, her heart is broken. However, I'll soon see her, and maybe I won't pladeyour cause; no lawyer could match me. Whisht!" she exclaimed, "isn'tthat Gerald himself comin' over to us?"

"It is, " replied Bryan, "let us meet him;" and, as he spoke, they turnedtheir steps towards him. As they met, Bryan, forgetting everything thathad occurred, and influenced solely by the habit of former friendshipand good feeling, extended his hand with an intention of clasping thatof his old acquaintance, but the latter withdrew, and refused to meetthis usual exponent of good will. 

"Well, Gerald, " said M'Mahon, smiling, "I see you go with the worldtoo; but, since you won't shake hands with me, allow me to ask yourbusiness. "

"To deliver a message to you from my daughter, and she'd not allow me todeliver it to any one but yourself. I came three times to see you beforeyour sickness, but I didn't find jou at home. "

"What's the message, Gerald?"

"The message, Bryan, is--that you are never to spake to her, nor willshe ever more name your name. She will never be your wife; for she saysthat the heart that forgets its duty to God, and the hand that has beensoiled by a bribe, can never be anything to her but the cause of shameand sorrow; and she bids me say that her happiness is gone and her heartbroken. Now, farewell, and think of the girl you have lost by disgracin'your religion and your name. "

Bryan paused for a moment, as if irresolute how to act, and exchangedglances with his high-minded little sister. 

"Tell Kathleen, from me, " said the latter, "that if she had a littlemore feeling, and a little less pride or religion, I don't know which, she'd be more of a woman and less of a saint. My brother, tell her, hasdisgraced neither his religion nor his name, and that he has too much ofthe pride of an injured man to give back any answer to sich a message. That's my answer, and not his, and you may ask her if it's eitherreligion or common justice that makes her condemn him she loved withouta hearing? Goodbye, now, Gerald; give my love to Hanna, and tell hershe's worth a ship-load of her stately sister. "

Bryan remained silent. In fact, he felt so completely overwhelmed thathe was incapable of uttering a syllable. On seeing Cavanagh return, hewas about to speak, when he looked upon the glowing cheeks, flashingeyes, and panting bosom of his heroic little sister. 

"You are right, my darling Dora. I must be proud on receiving such amessage. Kathleen has done me injustice, and I must be proud in my owndefence. "

The full burthen of this day's care, however, had not been yet laid uponhim. On returning home, he heard from one of his laborers that a noticeto quit his farm of Ahadarra had been left at his house. This, afterthe heavy sums of money which he had expended in its improvement andreclamation, was a bitter addition to what he was forced to suffer. Onhearing of this last circumstance, and after perusing the notice whichthe man, who had come on some other message, had brought with him, helooked around him on every side for a considerable time. At length hesaid, "Dora, is not this a fine country?"

"It is, " she replied, looking at him with surprise. 

"Would you like, " he added, "to lave it?"

"To lave it, Bryan!" she replied. "Oh, no, not to lave it;" and as shespoke, a deadly paleness settled upon her face. 

"Poor Dora, " he said, after surveying her for a time with an expressionof love and compassion, "I know your saicret, and have done so this longtime; but don't be cast down. You have been a warm and faithful littlefriend to me, and it will go hard or I'll befriend you yet. "

Dora looked up into his face, and as she did, her eyes filled withtears. "I won't deny what you know, Bryan, " she replied; "and unlesshe----"

"Well, dear, don't fret; he and I will have a talk about it; but, comewhat may, Dora, in this neglected and unfortunate country I will notstay. Here, now, is a notice to quit my farm, that I have improved at anexpense of seven or eight hundred pounds, an' its now goin' to be takenout of my hands, and every penny I expended on it goes into the pocketof the landlord or agent, or both, and I'm to be driven out of houseand home without a single farthing of compensation for the buildings andother improvements that I made on that farm. "

"It's a hard and cruel case, " said Dora; "an there can be no doubt butthat the landlord and Fethertonge are both a pair of great rogues. Can'tyou challenge them, an' fight them?"

"Why, what a soldier you are, Dora!" replied her brother, smiling; "butyou don't know that their situation in life and mine puts that entirelyout o' the question. If a landlord was to be called upon to fight everytenant he neglects, or is unjust to, he would have a busy time of it. No, no, Dora dear, my mind's made up. We will lave the country. We willgo to America; but, in the mean time, I'll see what I can do for you. "

"Bryan, dear, " she said in a voice of entreaty, "don't think of it. Oh, stay in your own country. Sure what other country could you like aswell?"

"I grant you that, Dora; but the truth is, there seems to be a curseover it; whatever's the raison of it, nothing goes right in it. Thelandlords in general care little about the state and condition of theirtenantry. All they trouble themselves about is their rents. Look at myown case, an' that's but one out of thousands that's happenin' everyday in the country. Grantin' that he didn't sarve me with this noticeto quit, an' supposin' he let me stay in the farm, he'd rise it on me insich a way as that I could hardly live in it; an' you know, Dora, thatto be merely strugglin' an' toilin' all one's life is anything but acomfortable prospect. Then, in consequence of the people depondin uponnothing but the potato for food, whenever that fails, which, in general, it does every seventh or eighth year, there's a famine, an' then thefamine is followed by fever an' all kinds of contagious diseases, in sich a way that the kingdom is turned into one great hospital andgrave-yard. It's these things that's sendin' so many thousands out ofthe country; and if we're to go at all, let us go like the rest, whilewe're able to go, an' not wait till we become too poor either to go orstay with comfort. "

"Well, I suppose, " replied his sister, "that what you say is trueenough; but for all that I'd rather bear anything in my own dear countrythan go to a strange one. Do you think I'd not miss the summer sunrising behind the Althadawan hills? an' how could I live without seein'him set behind Mallybeney? An' then to live in a country where I'd notsee these ould hills, the green glens, and mountain rivers about us, that have all grown into my heart. Oh, Bryan, dear, don't think ofit--don't think of it. "

[Illustration: PAGE 603-- country where I'd not see these ould hills]

"Dora, " replied the other, his fine countenance overshadowed with, deepemotion as he spoke, "you cannot love these ould hills, as you cullthem, nor these beautiful glens, nor the mountain rivers better than Ido. It will go to my heart to leave them; but leave them I will--ay, andwhen I go, you know that I will leave behind me one that's dearer tenthousand times than them all. Kathleen's message has left me a heavy andsorrowful heart. "

"I pity her now, " replied the kind-hearted girl; "but, still, Bryan, shesent you a harsh message. Ay, I pity her, for did you observe how thefather looked when he said that she bid him tell you her happiness wasgone, and her heart broken; still, she ought to have seen yourself andheard your defence. "

"I can neither blame her, nor will; neither can I properly justify myvote, I grant; it was surely very wrong or she wouldn't feel it as shedoes. Indeed. I think I oughtn't to have voted at all. "

"I differ with you there, Bryan, " replied Dora, with animation, "I wouldrather, ten times over, vote wrongly, than not vote from cowardice. It's a mane, skulkin', shabby thing, to be afeard to vote when one has avote--it's unmanly. "

"I know it is; and it was that very thought that made me vote. I feltthat it would look both mane and cowardly not to vote, and accordinglyI did vote. "

"Ay, and you did right, " replied his spirited sister, "and I don't carewho opposes you, I'll support you for it, through thick and thin. "

"And I suppose you may say through right and wrong, too?"

"Ay, would I, " she replied; "eh?--what am I sayin?--throth, I'm a littlemadcap, I think. No, I won't support you through right and wrong--it'sonly when you're right you may depend on me. "

They had now been more than an hour strolling about the fields, whenBryan, who did not feel himself quite so strong as he imagined he was, proposed to return to his father's, where, by the way, he had beenconveyed from the chapel on the Sunday when he had been so severelymaltreated. 

They accordingly did so, for he felt himself weak, and unable to prolonghis walk to any greater distance. 

CHAPTER XXI. --Thomas M'Mahon is forced to determine on Emigration. 

Gerald Cavanaugh felt himself secretly relieved by the discharge of hismessage to M'Mahon. 

"It is good, " thought he, "to have that affair settled, an' allexpectation of her marriage with him knocked up. I'll be bound a littletime will cool the foolish girl, and put Edward Burke in the way ofsucceeding. As for Hycy, I see clearly that whoever is to succeed, he'snot the man--an' the more the pity, for the sorra one of them all somuch the gentleman, nor will live in sich style. "

The gloom which lay upon the heart of Kathleen Cavanagh was neithermoody nor captious, but on the contrary remarkable for a spirit ofextreme gentleness and placidity. From the moment she had come to theresolution of discarding M'Mahon, she was observed to become moresilent than she had ever been, but at the same time her deportment wascharacterized by a tenderness towards the other members of the familythat was sorrowful and affecting to the last degree. Her sister Hanna'ssympathy was deep and full of sorrow. None of them, however, knew herforce of character, nor the inroads which, under guise of this placidcalm, strong grief was secretly making on her health and spirits. Thepaleness, for instance, which settled on her cheeks, when the newsof her lover's apostacy, as it was called, and as she considered it, reached her, never for one moment left it afterwards, and she resembledsome exquisitely chiselled statue moving by machinery, more thananything else to which we can compare her. 

She was sitting with Hanna when her father returned, after havingdelivered her message to M'Mahon. The old man seemed, if one could judgeby his features, to feel rather satisfied, as in fact was the case, andafter having put up his good hat, and laid aside his best coat, hesaid, "I have delivered your message, Kathleen, an' dear knows I'm gladthere's an end to that business--it never had my warm heart. "

"It always had mine, then, " replied Hanna, "an' I think we ought not tojudge our fellow creatures too severely, knowin' as we do that there'sno such thing as perfection in this world. What the sorra could havecome over him, or tempted him to vote as he did? What did he say, father, when you brought him the message?"

"Afther I declared it, " replied her father, "he was struck dumb, andnever once opened his lips; but if he didn't spake, his sister Doradid. "

"An' what did she say--generous and spirited little Dora!--what did shesay, father?"

He then repeated the message as accurately as he could--for the honestold man was imbued with too conscientious a love for truth to disguiseor conceal a single syllable that had been intrusted to him on eitherside--"Throth, " said he, "the same Dora has the use of her tongue whenshe pleases; 'ax her, ' said she, spakin' of Kathleen, here, 'if it'seither religion or common justice that makes her condemn my brotherwithout hearin' his defence. Good-bye, now, ' says she; 'give my love toHanna, and tell her 'she's worth a ship-load of her stately sister. '"

"Poor Dora!" exclaimed Hanna, whilst the tears came to her eyes, "whocan blame her for defending so good and affectionate a brother? Plagueon it for an election! I wish there was no sich thing in the country. "

"As for me, " said Kathleen, "I wouldn't condemn him without a hearing, if I had any doubt about his conduct, but I have not. He voted forVanston--that can't be denied; and proved himself to have less honestyand scruple than even that profligate Hycy Burke; and if he made abargain with Vanston, as is clear he did, an' voted for him because theother got his fine reduced, why that is worse, because then he did itknowingly an' with his eyes open, an' contrary to his conscience--ay, an' to his solemn promise to myself; for I'll tell you now what I nevermentioned before, that I put him on his guard against doing so; and heknew that if he did, all would and must be over between him and me. "

"Is that true, Kathleen?" said Hanna with surprise; "but why need I askyou such a question--it's enough that you say it--in that case then Igive him up at last; but who, oh, who could a' believed it?"

"But that is not all, " continued Kathleen, in the same mournful andresigned tone of voice--"there's the bribe--didn't hundreds hear himacknowledge publicly in the chapel that he got it? What more is wanting?How could I ever respect a man that has proved himself to be withouteither honesty or principle? and why should it happen, that the man whohas so openly and so knowingly disgraced his religion and his name fallto my lot? Oh, no--it matters little how I love him, and I grant that inspite of all that has happened I have a lingering affection for himeven yet; still I don't think that affection will live long--I can nowneither respect or esteem him, an' when that is the case I can't surelycontinue long to love him. I know, " she proceeded, "that it's notpossible for him ever to clear himself of this shocking and shamefulconduct; but lest there might be any chance of it, I now say before youall, that if something doesn't come about within three months, that mayand ought to change my feelings towards him, I'll live afterwards as ifI had never known him. "

"Mightn't you see him, however, an' hear what he has to say forhimself?" asked Hanna. 

"No, " the other replied; "he heard my message, and was silent. You mayrest assured if he had anything to say in his own defence, he wouldhave said it, or asked to see me. Oh, no, no, because I feel that he'sdefenceless. "

In this peculiar state of circumstances our readers need not feelsurprised that every possible agency was employed to urge her beyond thedeclaration she had made, and to induce her to receive the addresses ofEdward Burke. Her own parents, old Jemmy Burke, the whole body of herrelatives, each in turn, and sometimes several of them together, addedto which we may mention the parish priest, who was called in by bothfamilies, or at least by old Jemmy Burke and the Cavanaghs--all we sayperpetually assailed her on the subject of a union with Edward Burke, and assailed her so pertinaciously, that out of absolute apathy, if notdespair, and sick besides of their endless importunities, she at lastsaid--"If Edward Burke can be satisfied with a wife that has no heart togive him, or that cannot love him, I don't care much how I am disposedof; he may as well call me wife as another, and better, for if I cannotlove, I can at least respect him. "

These circumstances, together with the period allowed to M'Mahon forsetting himself, if possible, right with Kathleen, in due time reachedhis ears. It soon appeared, however, that Kathleen had not all thepride--if pride it could be called--to herself. M'Mahon, on being madeacquainted with what had occurred, which he had heard from his sisterDora, simply said--"Since she has not afforded myself any opportunityof tellin' her the truth, I won't attempt to undeceive her. I will be asproud as she is. That is all I say. "

"And you are right, Tom, " replied Dora, "the name of M'Mahon mustn't beconsarned with anything that's mane or discreditable. The pride of ourold blood must be kept up, Tom; but still when we think of what she'ssufferin' we musn't open our lips against her. "

"Oh, no, " he replied; "I know that it's neither harshness nor weakness, nor useless pride that makes her act as she's doin', but a great mindand a heart that's full of truth, high thoughts, and such a love for herreligion and its prosperity as I never saw in any one. Still, Dora, I'mnot the person that will ever sneak back to entreat and plead at herfeet like a slave, and by that means make myself look still worse in hereyes; I know very well that if I did so she'd despise me. God bless her, at all events, and make her happy! that's the worst I wish her. "

"Amen, " replied Dora; "you have said nothing but the truth about her, and indeed. I see, Tom, that you know her well. "

Thus ended the generous dialogue of Dora and her affectionate brother, who after all might have been induced by her to remain in his nativecountry and share whatever fate it might allot him, were it not that ina few days afterwards, his father found that the only terms on which hecould obtain his farm were such as could scarcely be said to come withinthe meaning and spirit of the landlord's adage, "live and let live. "It is true that for the terms on which his farm was offered him he wasindebted to Chevydale himself, who said that as he knew his father hadentertained a high respect for old M'Mahon, he would not suffer him tobe put out. The father besides voted for him, and always had voted forthe family. "Do what you please with the son, " he proceeded--"get rid ofhim as you like, but I shan't suffer the father to be removed. Let himhave the farm upon reasonable terms; and, by the way, Fethertonge, don'tyou think now it was rather an independent act of the young fellow tovote for Vanston, although he knew that I had it in my power to send himabout his business?"

"It was about as impudent a piece of gratitude and defiance as ever Iwitnessed, " returned the other. "The wily rascal calculated upon yourforbearance and easiness of disposition, and so imagined that he mightdo what he pleased with impunity. We shall undeceive him, however. "

"Well, but you forget that he, had some cause of displeasure against us, in consequence of having neglected his memorial to the Commissioners ofExcise. "

"Yes; but as I said before, how could we with credit involve ourselvesin the illegal villany of a smuggler? It is actually a discredit to havesuch a fellow upon the estate. He is, in the first place, a badexample, and calculated by his conduct and influence to spread dangerousprinciples among the tenantry. However, as it is, he is, fortunately forus, rather well known at present. It is now perfectly notorious--and Ihave it from the best authority--one of the parties who was cognizantof his conduct--that his vote against you was the result of a deliberatecompact with our enemy, Vanston, and that he received a bribe of fiftypounds from him. This he has had the audacity to acknowledge himself, being the very amount of the sum to which the penalty against him wasmitigated by Vanston's interference. In fact the scoundrel is alreadyinfamous in the country. "

"What, for receiving a bribe!" exclaimed Chevydale, looking at the agentwith a significant smile; "and what, pray, is the distinction betweenhim who gives and him who takes a bribe? Let us look at home a little, my good Fethertonge, and learn a little charity to those who err as wedo. A man would think now to hear you attack M'Mahon for bribery, thatyou never had bribed a man in your life; and yet you know that it isthe consciousness of bribery on our own part that prevents us fromattempting to unseat Vanston. "

"That's all very true, I grant you, " replied the other; "but in themean time we must keep up appearances. The question, so far as regardsM'Mahon, is--not so much whether he is corrupt or not, as whether he hasunseated you; that is the fatal fact against him; and if we allow thatto pass without making him suffer for it, you will find that on thenext election he may have many an imitator, and your chances will not beworth much--that's all. "

"Very well, Fethertonge, " replied the indolent and feeble-minded man, "I leave him to you; manage him or punish him as you like; but I do begthat you will let me hear no more about him. Keep his father, however, on the property; I insist on that; he is an honest man, for he voted forme; keep him on his farm at reasonable terms too, such, --of course, ashe can live on. "

The reasonable terms proposed by Fethertonge were, however, such as oldTom M'Mahon could not with any prospect of independence encounter. Eventhis, however, was not to him the most depressing consideration. Faithhad been wantonly and deliberately broken with him--the solemn wordsof a dying man had been disregarded--and, as Fethertonge had made himbelieve, by that son who had always professed to regard and honor hisfather's memory. 

"I assure you, M'Mahon, " replied the agent, in the last interview heever had with him, "I assure you I have done all in my power to bringmatters about; but without avail. It is a painful thing to have to dowith an obstinate man, M'Mahon; with a man who, although he seems quietand easy, will and must have everything his own way. "

"Well, sir, " replied M'Mahon, "you know what his dying father's wordswor to me. "

"And more than I know them, I can assure you, " he whispered, in a verysignificant voice, and with a nod of the head that seemed to say, "your landlord knows them as well as I do. I have done my duty, andcommunicated them to him, as I ought. "

M'Mahon shook his head in a melancholy manner, and said, --

"Well, sir, at any rate I know the worst. I couldn't now have anyconfidence or trust in such a man; I could depend upon neither his wordor his promise; I couldn't look upon him as a friend, for he didn'tprove himself one to my son when he stood in need of one. It's clearthat he doesn't care about the welfare and prosperity of his tenantry;and for that raison--or rather for all these raisons put together--I'lljoin my son, and go to a country where, by all accounts, there's betterprospects for them that's honest and industrious than there is in thisunfortunate one of ours, --where the interest of the people is so muchneglected--neglected! no, but never thought of at all! Good-bye, sir, "he added, taking up his hat, whilst the features of this sterling andhonest man were overcast with a solemn and pathetic spirit, "don'tconsider me any longer your tenant. For many a long year has our namesbeen--but no matther--the time is come at last, and the M'Mahon's ofCarriglass and Ahadarra will be known there no more. It wasn't ourfault; we wor willin' to live--oh! not merely willin' to live, butanxious to die there; but it can't be. Goodbye, sir. " And so theyparted. 

M'Mahon, on his return home, found Bryan, who now spent most of his timeat Carriglass, before him. On entering the house his family, who wereall assembled, saw by the expression of his face that his heart had beendeeply moved, and was filled with sorrow. 

"Bryan, " said he, "you are right--as indeed you always are. Childre', "he proceeded, "we must lave the place that we loved so much; where wehave lived for hundreds of years. This counthry isn't one now to prosperin, as I said not long since--this very day. We must lave the ouldplaces, an' as I tould Fethertonge, the M'Mahons of Ahadarra andCarriglass will be the M'Mahons of Ahadarra and Carriglass no more; butGod's will be done! I must look to the intherest of you all, childre';but, God help us, that's what I can't do here for the future. Every oneof sense and substance is doin' so, an' why shouldn't we take care ofourselves as well as the rest? What we want here is encouragement andfair play; but _fareer gair_, it isn't to be had. "

The gloom which they read in his countenance was now explained, but thiswas not all; it immediately settled upon the other members of the familywho were immediately moved, --all by sorrow, and some even to tears. Dora, who, notwithstanding what her brother had said with regard to hisintention of emigrating, still maintained a latent hope that he mightchange his mind, and that a reconciliation besides might yet be broughtabout between him and Kathleen, now went to her father, and, with tearsin her eyes, threw her arms about his neck, exclaiming: "Oh, fatherdear, don't think of leaving this place, for how could we leave it? Whatother country could we ever like as well? and my grandfather--here he'screepin' in, sure he's not the same man within the last few months, --oh, how could you think of bringin' him, now that he's partly in his grave, an' he, " she added, in a whisper full of compassion, "an' he partlydotin' with feebleness and age. "

"Hush!" said her father, "we must say nothing of it to him. That must bekept a secret from him, an' it's likely he won't notice the change. "

Kitty then went over, and laying her hand on her father's arm, said:"Father, for the love of God, don't take us from Carriglass andAhadarra:--whatever the world has for us, whether for good or evil, letus bear it here. "

"Father, you won't bring us nor you won't go, " added Dora; "sure wenever could be very miserable here, where we have all been so happy. "

"Poor Dora!" said Bryan, "what a mistake that is! I feel the contrary;for the very happiness that I and all of us enjoyed here, now only addsto what I'm sufferin'. "

"Childre', " said the father, "our landlord has broken his own father'sdyin' promise--you all remember how full of delight I came home to youfrom Dublin, and how she that's gone"--he paused;--he covered his facewith his open hands, through which the tears were seen to trickle. This allusion to their beloved mother was too much for them. Arthurand Michael sat in silence, not knowing exactly upon what grounds theirfather had formed a resolution, which, when proposed to him by Bryan, appeared to be one to which his heart could never lend its sanction. No sooner was their mother named, however, than they too became deeplymoved, and when Kitty and Dora both rushed with an outcry of sorrow totheir father, exclaiming, "Oh, father dear, think of her that's in theclay--for her sake, change your mind and don't take us to where we cannever weep a tear over her blessed grave, nor ever kneel over it tooffer a prayer within her hearin' for her soul!"

"Childre, " he exclaimed, wiping away his tears that had indeed flowedin all the bitterness of grief and undeserved affliction; "childre', "he replied, "you must be manly now; it's because I love you an' feelsanxious to keep you from beggary and sorrow at a future time, anddestitution and distress, such as we see among so many about us everyday in the week, that I've made up my mind to go. Our landlord wont giveus our farm barrin' at a rent that 'tid bring us down day by day, topoverty and distress like too many of our neighbors. We have yet somethrifle o' money left, as much as will, by all accounts, enable us totake--I mane to purchase a farm in America--an' isn't it betther for usto go there, and be independent, no matther what it may cost our heartsto suffer by doin' so, than to stay here until the few hundre' thatI've got together is melted away out of my pocket into the picket of alandlord that never wanst throubles himself to know how we're gettin'on, or whether we're doin' well or ill. Then think of his conduct toBryan, there; how he neglected him, and would let him go to ruin widoutever movin' a finger to save him from it. No, childre', undher sich aman I won't stay. Prepare yourselves, then, to lave this. In biddin' youto do so, I'm actin' for the best towards you all. I'm doin' my duty byyou, and I expect for that raison, an' as obedient childre'--which I'veever found you--that you'll do your duty by me, an' give no furtheropposition to what I'm proposin' for your sakes. I know you're allloath--an' you will be loath--to lave this place; but do you think?--doyou?--'that I--I--oh, my God!--do you think, I say, that I'll feelnothing when we go? Oh! little you know of me if you think so! but, asI said, we must do our duty. We see our neighbors fallin' away intopoverty, and distress, and destitution day by day, and if we remain inthis unfortunate country, we must only folly in their tracks, an' beforelong be as miserable and helpless as they are. "

His family were forced to admit the melancholy truth and strong senseof all he had uttered, and, although the resolution to which he had comewas one of bitterness and sorrow to them all, yet from a principle ofaffection and duty towards him, they felt that any opposition on theirpart would have been unjustifiable and wrong. 

"But, sure, " the old man proceeded, "there's more than I've mentionedyet, to send us away. Look at poor Bryan, there, how he was nearlyruined by the villany of some cowardly scoundrel, or scoundrels, who setup a still upon his farm; that's a black business, like many other blackbusiness that's a disgrace to the country--an inoffensive young man, that never made or did anything to make an enemy for himself, durin' hiswhole life! An' another thing, bekaise he voted for the man that savedhim from destruction, as he ought to do, an' as I'm proud he did do, listen now to the blackguard outcry that's against him; ay, and by acrew of vagabonds that 'ud sell Christ himself, let alone their country, or their religion, if they were bribed by Protestant goold for it!Throth I'm sick of the counthry and the people; for instead of gettin'betther, it's worse they're gettin' every day. Make up your minds then, childre'; there's a curse on the counthry. Many o' the landlords arebad enough, too bad, and too neglectful, God knows; but sure the peoplethemselves is as bad, an' as senseless on the other hand; aren't theyblinded so much by their bad feelin's, and short-sighted passions, thatit is often the best landlords they let out their revenge upon. Preparethen, childre'; for out of the counthry, or at any rate from among thepeople, the poverty and the misery that's in it, wid God's assistance, we'll go while we're able to do so. "

CHAPTER XII. --Mystery Among the Hogans

--Finigan Defends the Absent. 

The three Hogans, whom we have lost sight of for some time, were, as ourreaders already know, three most unadulterated ruffians, in everysense of that most respectable term. Yet, singular as it may appear, notwithstanding their savage brutality, they were each and all possessedof a genius for mechanical inventions and manual dexterity that wasperfectly astonishing when the low character of their moral, andintellectual standard is considered. Kate Hogan, who, from her position, could not possibly be kept out of their secrets, at least for any lengthof time, was forced to notice of late that there was a much closer andmore cautious intimacy between Hycy Burke and them than she had everobserved before. She remarked, besides, that not only was Teddy Phatsexcluded from their councils, but she herself was sent out of the way, whenever Hycy paid them a visit, which uniformly occurred at a latehour, in the night. 

Another circumstance also occurred about this time which puzzled her nota little: we mean the unusual absence of Philip for about a fortnightfrom home. Now, there certainly nothing more offensive, especially to afemale, than the fact of excluding her from the knowledge of any secret, a participation in which she may consider as a right. In her caseshe felt that it argued want of confidence, and as she had never yetbetrayed any trust or secret reposed in her, she considered theirconduct towards her, not merely as an insult, but such as entitled themto nothing at her hands but resentment, and a determination to thwarttheir plans, whatever they might be, as soon as she should succeed inmaking herself acquainted with them. What excited her resentment themore bitterly was the arrival of a strange man and woman in company withPhilip, as she was able to collect, from the metropolis, to the formerof whom they all seemed to look with much deference as to a superiorspirit of the secret among them this man and his wife were clearlyin possession, as was evident from their whisperings and otherconversations, which they held apart, and uniformly out of her hearing. It is true the strangers did not reside with the Hogans, but in a smallcabin adjacent to that in which Finigan taught his school. Much of thesame way of thinking was honest Teddy Phats, whom they had now alsoabandoned, or rather completely cast off, and, what was still worse, deprived of the whole apparatus for distillation, which, althoughpurchased by Hycy Burke's money, they very modestly appropriated tothemselves. Teddy, however, as well as Kate, knew that they were nevercautious without good reason, and as it had pleased them to cut him, asthe phrase goes, so did he, as Kate had done, resolve within himself topenetrate their secret, if human ingenuity could effect it. 

In this position they were when honest Philip returned, as we have said, after a fortnight's absence, from some place or places unknown. Themystery, however, did not end here. Kate observed that, as before, muchof their conversation was held aloof from her, or in such enigmaticalphrases and whisperings, as rendered the substance of it perfectlyinscrutable to her. She observed, besides, that two of them werefrequently absent from the kiln where they lived; but that one alwaysremained at home to make certain that she should not follow or dog themto the haunt they frequented. This precaution on their part was uniform. As it was, however, Kate did not seem to notice it. On the contrary, noone could exhibit a more finished appearance of stupid indifference thanshe assumed upon these occasions, even although she knew by the removalof the tools, or a portion of them, that her friends were engaged insome business belonging to their craft. In this manner matters proceededfor some weeks subsequent to the period of Philip's return. 

Kate also observed, with displeasure, that among all those who joined inthe outcry against Bryan M'Mahon, none made his conduct, such as it wasconceived to have been, a subject of more brutal and bitter triumph thanthe Hogans. The only circumstance connected with him which grieved themto the heart, was the fact that the distillation plot had not ruined himas they expected it would have done. His disgrace, however, and unjustejectment from Ahadarra filled them with that low, ruffianly sense ofexultation, than which, coming from such scoundrels, there is scarcelyanything more detestable in human nature. 

One evening about this time they were sitting about the fire, the threebrothers, Kate, and the young unlicked savages of the family, whenPhilip, after helping himself to a glass of quints, said, --

"At any rate, there'll be no match between Miss Kathleen and thatvagabond, Bryan M'Mahon. I think we helped to put a nail in his coffinthere, by gob. "

"Ay, " said Kate, "an' you may boast of it, you unmanly vagabone; an' yetyou purtind to have a regard for the poor girl, an' a purty way you tuckto show it--to have her as she is, goin' about wid a pale face an' abroken heart. Don't you see it's her more than him you're punishin', yousavage of hell?"

"You had betther keep your tongue off o' me, " he replied; "I won't getinto grips wid you any more, you barge o' blazes; but, if you provoke mewid bad language, I'll give you a clink wid one o' these sotherin'-ironsthat'll put a clasp on your tongue. "

"Never attempt that, " she replied fiercely, "for, as sure as you do, I'll have this knife, " showing him a large, sharp-pointed one, which, inaccordance with the customs of her class, hung by a black belt of strongleather from her side--"I'll have this customer here greased in yourpuddins, my buck, and, when the win's out o' you, see what you'll beworth--fit for Captain James's hounds; although I dunno but the verydogs themselves is too clane to ait you. "

"Come, " said Bat, "we'll have no more o' this; do you, Philip, keepquiet wid your sotherin'-iron, and, as for you, Kate, don't dhraw meupon you; _na ha nan shin_--it isn't Philip you have. I say I'm rightwell plaised that we helped to knock up the match. "

"Don't be too sure, " replied Kate, "that it is knocked up; don't now, mind my words; an' take care that, instead of knockin' it up, youhaven't knocked yourselves down. Chew your cud upon that now. "

"What does she mane?" asked Ned, looking on her with a baleful glance, in which might be read equal ferocity and alarm. "Why, traichery, ofcoorse, " replied Philip, in his deep, glowing voice. "Kate, " said herhusband, starting into something' like an incipient fit of fury, butsuddenly checking himself--"Kate, my honey, what do you mane by themwords?"

"What do I mane by them words?" she exclaimed, with an eye which turnedon him with cool defiance; "pick that out o' your larnin', Bat, my pet. You can all keep your saicrets; an' I'll let you know that I can keepmine. "

"Be the Holy St. Lucifer, " said her husband, "if I wanst thought thattraichery 'ud enter your head, I'd take good care that it's in hellyou'd waken some fine mornin' afore long. So mind yourself, Kate, myhoney. "

"Are you in nobody else's power but mine?" she replied, "ax yourselvesthat--an' now do you mind yourself, Bat, my pet, and all o' yez. "

"What is the raison, " asked her husband, "that I see you an' Nanny Peetycolloguin' an' huggermuggerin' so often together of late?"

"Ah, " she replied, with a toss of disdain, "what a manly fellow you areto want to get into women's saicrets! you may save your breath though. "

"Whatever you collogue about, all I say is, that I don't like a bone inthe same Nanny Peety's body. She has an eye in her head that looks as ifit knew one's thoughts. "

"An' maybe it does. One thing I know, and every one knows it, that it'sa very purty eye. "

"Tell her, then, to keep out o' this; we want no spies here. "

"Divil a word of it; she's my niece, an' the king's highway is as freeto her as it is to you or anybody else. She'll be welcome to me any timeshe comes, an' let me see who'll dare to mislist her. She feels as sheought to do, an' as every woman ought to do, ay, an' every man, too, that is a man, or anything but a brute an' a coward--she feels for thatunfortunate, heart-broken girl 'ithout;' an' it'll be a strange thingif them that brought her to what she's sufferin' won't sufferthemselves yet; there's a God above still, I hope, glory be to His name!Traichery!" she exclaimed; "ah, you ill-minded villains, it's yourselvesyou're thinkin' of, an' what you desarve. As for myself, it's neitheryou nor your villainy that's in my head, but the sorrowful heart that'sin that poor girl 'ithout--ay, an' a broken one; for, indeed, broked itis; and it's not long she'll be troub'lin' either friend or foe in thisworld. The curse o' glory upon you all, you villains, and upon every onethat had a hand in bringing her to this!"

Having uttered these words, she put her cloak and bonnet upon her, andleft the house, adding as she went out, "if it's any pleasure to you toknow it, I'll tell you. I'm goin' to meet Nancy Peety this minute, an' you never seen sich colloguin' an' hugger-muggerin' as we'll have, plaise goodness--ah, you ill-thinkin', skulkin' villains!"

Kate Hogan, though a tigress when provoked, and a hardened, recklesscreature, scarcely remarkable for any particular virtue that could beenumerated, and formidable from that savage strength and intrepidityfor which she was so well known, was yet not merely touched by thesufferings of Kathleen Cavanagh, but absolutely took an interest inthem, at once so deep and full of sympathy, as to affect her temper anddisturb her peace of mind. Notwithstanding her character she was stilla woman; and, in matters involving the happiness of an innocent andbeautiful creature of her own sex, who had been so often personally kindto herself, and whose family were protectors and benefactors to her andher kindred, she felt as a woman. Though coarse-minded upon most manymatters, she was yet capable of making the humane distinction which herbrutal relatives could not understand or feel;--we mean the fact that, in having lent themselves to the base conspiracy planned and concoctedby Hycy Burke, and in having been undoubtedly the cause of M'Mahon'sdisgrace, as well as of his projected marriage with Kathleen having beenbroken up, they did not perceive that she was equally a sufferer; or, if they did, they were either too cunning or too hardened to acknowledgeit. For this particular circumstance, Kate, inasmuch as it involved deepingratitude on their part, could not at all forgive them. 

At this time, indeed, the melancholy position of Kathleen Cavanagh wasone which excited profound and general sorrow; and just in proportionas this was sincere, so was the feeling of indignation against him whosecorruption and want of principle were supposed to have involved herin their consequences. Two months or better of the period allotted byKathleen to the vindication of his character, had now elapsed, and yetnothing had been done to set himself right either with her or the world. She consequently argued and with apparent reason, that everything in theshape of justification was out of his power, and this reflection onlydeepened her affliction. Yes, it deepened her affliction; but it didnot; on that account succeed in enabling her to obliterate his imagethe more easily from her heart. The fact was, that despite the force andvariety of the rumors that were abroad against him--and each succeedingweek brought in some fresh instance of his duplicity and profligacy, thanks to the ingenious and fertile malignity of Hycy theaccomplished--despite of this, and despite of all, the natural reactionof her heart had set in--their past endearments, their confidence theirtenderness, their love, now began, after the first vehement expressionof pride and high principle had exhausted the offended mind of itsindignation, to gradually resume their influence over her. A review, besides, of her own conduct towards her lover was by no meanssatisfactory to her. Whilst she could not certainly but condemn him, she felt as if she had judged him upon a principle at once too cold andrigorous. Indeed, now that a portion of time had enabled her mind tocool, she could scarcely understand why it was that she had passed, soharsh a sentence upon him. She was not, however, capable of analyzingher own mind and feelings upon the occasion, or she might have knownthat her severity towards the man I was the consequence, on her part, ofthat innate scorn and indignation which pure and lofty minds naturallyentertain against everything dishonorable and base, and that it is avery difficult thing to disassociate the crime from the criminal, evenin cases where the latter may have had a strong hold upon the affectionsof such a noble nature. Nay, the very fact of finding that one'saffections have been fixed upon a person capable of such dishonor, produces a double portion of indignation at the discovery of theirprofligacy, because it supposes, in the first place, that something likeimposture must have been practised upon us in securing our affections, or what is still more degrading, that we must have been materiallydevoid of common penetration, or we could not have suffered ourselves tobecome the dupe of craft and dissimulation. 

Our high-minded heroine, however, had no other theory upon the subjectof her own feelings, than that she loved her religion and its precepts, and detested every word that was at variance with truth, and every actinconsistent with honesty and that faithful integrity which resiststemptation and corruption in whatever plausible shapes they may approachit. 

Be this, however, as it may, she now found that, as time advanced, herheart began to fall into its original habits. The tumult occasioned bythe shock resulting from her lover's want of integrity, had now nearlypassed away, and the affection of the woman began to supersede theseverity of the judge. By degrees she was enabled, as we have said, tolook back upon her conduct, and to judge, of her lover through the moresoftened medium of her reviving affection. This feeling gained upon herslowly but surely, until her conscience became, alarmed at the excessof her own severity towards him. Still, however, she would occasionallyreturn, as it were, to a contemplation of his delinquency, and endeavor, from an unconscious principle of self-love, to work herself up into thatlofty hatred of dishonor which had prompted his condemnation; but theeffort was in vain. Every successive review of his guilt was attendedby a consciousness that she had been righteous overmuch, and that theconsequences of his treason, even against their common religion, werenot only rapidly diminishing in her heart, but yielding to somethingthat very nearly resembled remorse. 

Such was the state of her feelings on the day when Kate Hogan and hermale relatives indulged in the friendly and affectionate dialogue wehave just detailed. Her heart was smitten, in fact, with sorrow for theharsh part she had taken against her lover, and she only waited foran opportunity to pour out a full confession of all she felt into thefriendly ear of her sister. 

Gerald Cavanagh's family at this period was darkened by a general spiritof depression and gloom. Their brother James, from whatever cause it mayhave proceeded, seemed to be nearly as much cast down as his sister; andwere it not that Cavanagh himself and his wife sustained themselves by ahope that Kathleen might ultimately relax so far as to admit, as she hadpartly promised to do, the proposals of Edward Burke, it would havebeen difficult to find so much suffering apart from death under the sameroof. 

On the day in question, our friend O'Finigan, whose habits ofintemperance had by no means diminished, called at Cavanagh's, as he hadbeen in the habit of doing. Poor Kathleen was now suffering, besides, under the consequences of the injunction not to mention M'Mahon's name, which she had imposed upon her own family--an injunction which they hadever since faithfully observed. It was quite evident from the unusuallyeasy fluency of O'Finigan's manner, that he had not confined hisbeverages, during the day, to mere water. Hanna, on seeing him enter, said to Kathleen, in a whisper, --

"Hadn't you better come out and take a walk, Kathleen? This O'Finigan isalmost tipsy, and you know he'll be talking about certain subjects youdon't wish to hear. "

"Time enough, dear Hanna, " she replied, with a sorrowful look at hersister, "my heart is so full of suffering and pain that almost anythingwill relieve it. You know I was always amused by Finigan's chat. " Hersister, who had not as yet been made acquainted with the change whichhad taken place in her heart, on hearing these words looked at herclosely, and smiled sorrowfully, but in such a manner as if she hadat that moment experienced a sensation of pleasure, if not of hope. Hitherto, whenever a neighbor or stranger came in, Kathleen, fearingthat the forbidden name might become the topic of conversation, alwaysretired, either to another room or left the house altogether, in orderto relieve her own family from the painful predicament in which theirpromise of silence to her had placed them. On this occasion, however, Hanna perceived with equal surprise and pleasure that she kept herground. 

"Sit ye, merry jinteels!" said Finigan, as he entered; "I hope I seeyou all in good health and spirits; I hope I do; although I am afraid ifwhat fame--an' by the way, Mrs. Cavanagh, my classicality tells me, thatthe poet Maro blundered like a Hibernian, when he made the same fame atrumpeter, in which, wid the exception of one point, he was completelyout of keeping. There's not in all litherature another instance of afemale trumpeter; and for sound raisons--if the fair sex were to getpossession of the tuba, God help the world, for it would soon be a noisyone. However, let me recollect myself--where was I? Oh! ay--I am afraidthat if what fame says--an' by the way, her trumpet must have been aspeaking one--be true, that there's a fair individual here whose spiritsare not of the most exalted character; and indeed, and as I am thenoblest work of God--an honest man--I feel sorry to hear the fact. "

The first portion of this address, we need scarcely say, was the onlypart of it which was properly understood, if we except a word or two atthe close. 

"God save you, Misther Finigan. "

"O'Finigan, if you plase, Mrs. Cavanagh. "

"Well, well, " she replied, "O'Finigan, since it must be so; but in trothI can!t always remember it, Misther Finigan, in regard that you didn'talways stand out for it yourself. Is there any news stirrin', you that'sabroad?"

"Not exactly news, ma'am; but current reports that are now no novelty. The M'Mahon's--"

"Oh, never mind them, " exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh, glancing at herdaughter, "if you have any 'other news let us hear it--pass over theM'Mahons--they're not worth our talk, at least some o' them. "

"Pardon me, Mrs. Cavanagh;--if Achilles at the head of his myrmidons wasto inform me to that effect, I'd tell him he had mistaken his customer. My principle, ma'am--and 'tis one I glory in--is to defend the absent ingineral, for it is both charitable and ginerous to do so--in gineral, Isay; but when I know that they are unjustly aspersed, I contemplate itas' an act of duty on my part to vindicate them. "

"Well, " replied Mrs. Cavanagh, "that's all very right an' thrue, Mr. Finigan. "

"It is, Mr. Finig--O'Finigan, " observed James Cavanagh, who was present, "and your words are a credit and an honor to you. "

"Thanks, James, for the compliment; for it is but truth. The scandal Isay (he proceeded without once regarding the hint: thrown out by Mrs. Cavanagh) which has! been so studiously disseminated against BryanM'Mahon--spare your nods and winks, Mrs. Cavanagh, for if you winked atme with as many eyes as Argus had, and nodded at me wid as many heads asHydra, or that baste in the Revelaytions, I'd not suppress a syllable oftruth;--no, ma'am, the _suppressio veri's_ no habit of mine; and I sayand assert--ay, and asseverate--that that honest and high-spiritedyoung man, named Bryan or Bernard M'Mahon, is the victim of villanyand falsehood--ay, of devilish hatred and ingenious but cowardlyvituperation. "

"Kathleen, " whispered her sister, "will you come out, darlin'? this talkmust be painful to you. "

Kathleen gave her a look of much mingled sorrow and entreaty as went toher heart. Hanna, whose head had been lovingly reclining on her sister'sbosom, pressed her gently but affectionately to her heart, and made noreply. 

"You wor always a friend of his, " replied Mrs. Cavanagh, "an' of courseyou spake as a friend. "

"Yes, " said Finigan, "I always was a friend of his, because I alwaysknew his honesty, his love of truth, his hatred of a mane action, ay, and his generosity and courage. I knew him from the very egg, I maysay--_ab ovo_--Mrs. Cavanagh; it was I instilled his first principles intohim. Oh! I know well! I never had a scholar I was so proud out of. Hycy Burke was smart, quick, and cunning; but then he wastraicherous--something of a coward when he had his match--stronglyaddicted to fiction in most of his narratives, and what was still aworse point about him, he had the infamous ingenuity, whenever he had apoint to gain--such as belying a boy and taking away his characther--ofmaking truth discharge all the blackguard duties of falsehoood. Oh! Iknow them both well! But who among all I ever enlightened widinstruction was the boy that always tould the truth, even when it wentagainst himself?--why, Bryan M'Mahon. Who ever defended theabsent?--why, Bryan M'Mahon. Who ever and always took the part of theweak and defenceless against the strong and tyrannical?--why, BryanM'Mahon. Who fought for his religion, too, when the young heretics usedto turn it, or try to turn it, into ridicule--ay, and when cowardly andtraicherous Hycy used to sit quietly by, and either put the insult inhis pocket, or curry favor wid the young sneering vagabonds that abusedit? And yet, at the time Hycy was a thousand times a greater littlebigot than Bryan. The one, wid a juvenile rabble at his back, three toone, was a tyrant over the young schismatics; whilst Bryan, like a braveyouth as he was, ever and always protected them against the disadvantageof numbers, and insisted on showing them fair play. I am warm, Mrs. Cavanagh, " he continued, "and heat, you know, generates thirst. I knowthat a drop o' the right sort used to be somewhere undher this sameroof; but I'm afraid if the _fama clamosa_ be thrue, that the side ofthe argument I have taken isn't exactly such as to guarantee me a touchat the native--that is, taking it for granted that there's any in thehouse. "

This request was followed by a short silence. The Cavanagh's all, withthe exception of Kathleen, looked at each other, but every eye wasmarked either by indecision or indifference. At length Hanna looked ather sister, and simply said, "dear Kathleen!"

"He has done, " replied the latter, in a low voice, "what I had not thegenerosity to do--he has defended the absent. "

"Darling Kathleen, " Hanna whispered, and then pressed her once more toher heart. "You must have it, Mr. O'Finigan, " said she--"you must haveit, and that immediately;" and as she spoke, she proceeded to a cupboardfrom which she produced a large black bottle, filled with that peculiarliquid to which our worthy pedagogue was so devotedly addicted. 

"Ah, " said he, on receiving a bumper from the fair hand of Hanna, "let the M'Mahons alone for the old original--indeed I ought tosay--aboriginal hospitality. Thanks, Miss Hanna; in the meantime I willenunciate a toast, and although we shall not draw very strongly uponsentiment for the terms, it shall be plain and pithy; here is 'that thesaddle of infamy may be soon placed upon the right horse, ' and maybethere's an individual not a thousand miles from us, and who is besidesnot altogether incognizant of the learned languages, including atolerably comprehensive circle of mathematics, who will, to a certainextent, contribute to the consummation of that most desirable event;here then, I repate, is the toast--'may the saddle of infamy soon beplaced upon the right horse!'"

Having drunk off the glass, he turned the mouth of it down upon hiscorduroy breeches, as an intimation that he might probably find itnecessary to have recourse to it again. 

Hanna observed, or rather we should say, felt, that as Finigan proceededwith his reminiscences of M'Mahon's school-boy days and the enumerationof his virtues, her sister's heart and bosom quivered with deep andalmost irrepressible emotion. There was a good deal of enthusiasm in theman's manner, because he was in earnest, and it was quite evident thatKathleen's spirit had caught it as he went along, and that her heartrecognized the truth of the picture which he was drawing. We say sheliterally felt the quiverings of her sister's heart against her own, and to do the admirable girl justice, she rejoiced to recognize thesemanifestations of returning affection. 

"It was only yesterday, " continued Finigan, resuming the discourse, "that I met Bryan M'Mahon, and by the way, he has sorrow and distress, poor fellow, in his face. 'Bryan, ' said I, 'is it true that you andyour father's family are preparing to go to that _refugium peccatorum_, America--that overgrown cupping-glass which is drawing the best blood ofour country out of it?'

"'The people of Ireland, ' he replied, 'have a right to bless God thatthere is such a country to fly to, and to resave them from a landwhere they're neglected and overlooked. It is true, Mr. O'Finigan, ' heproceeded--!' we have nothing in this country to live for now. '

"'And so you are preparing?' I asked. 

"'I ought rather say, ' he replied, 'that we are prepared; we go inanother month; I only wish we were there already. '

"'I fear, Bryan, ' said I, 'that you have not been well trated of late. 'He looked at me with something like surprise, but said nothing; and ina quarter, I added, 'that was the last from which you were prepared toexpect justice without mercy. '

"'I don't understand you, ' he replied sharply; 'what do you mean?'

"'Bryan, ' said I, 'I scorn a moral circumbendibus where the direct truthis necessary; I have heard it said, and I fear it is burthened wid toomuch uncomfortable veracity, that Kathleen Cavanagh has donned the blackcap* in doing the judicial upon you, and that she considers her sentenceequal to the laws of the Medes and Persians, unchangeable--or, like those of our own blessed church--wid reverence be the analogymade--altogether infallible. ' His eye blazed as I spoke; he caught mewhere by the collar wid a grip that made me quake--'Another word againstKathleen Cavanagh, ' he replied, 'and I will shake every joint of yourcarcass out of its place. ' His little sister, Dora, was wid him at thetime; 'Give him a shake or two as it is, ' she added, egging him on, 'forwhat he has said already;' throth she's a lively little lady that, an' if it wasn't that she has a pair of dark shining eyes, and sweetfeatures--ay, and as coaxin' a figure of her own--however, sorra maycare, somehow, I defy any one to, be angry wid her. "

 * Alluding to the practice of putting on the black cap when the Judge condemns a felon to death. 

"Come, Mr. O'Finigan, " said James, approaching him, "you must haveanother glass. "

"Well no, James, " he replied, "I think not. "

"Faith, but I say you will; if it was only to hear what Dora--hem--whatBryan said. 

"Very well, " said the master, allowing him to take the glass which hereceived again brimming, "thanks, James. "

"'Well, ' said Bryan, lettin' go my collar, 'blame any one you like;blame me, blame Vanston, blame Chevydale, Fethertonge, anybody, everybody, the Priest, the Bishop, the Pope, --but don't dare to blameKathleen Cavanagh. '

"'Why, ' said I, 'has she been right in her condemnation of you?'

"'She has, ' he replied, with a warmth of enthusiasm which lit up hiswhole features; 'she has done nothing but what was right. She just actedas she ought, and all I can say is, that I know I'm not worthy of her, and never was. God bless her!'

"'And don't let me hear, ' said Dora, taking up the dialogue, 'that everyou'll mention her name wid disrespect--mark that, Mr. O'Finigan, orit'll be worse for you a thrifle. '

"Her brother looked on her wid complacent affection, and patting her onthe head, said, 'Come, darling, don't beat him now. You see the risk yourun, ' he added, as they went away, 'so don't draw down Dora's vengeanceon your head. She might forgive you an offence against herself; but shewon't forgive you one against Kathleen Cavanagh; and, Mister O'Finigan, neither will I. '"

"Masther, " said James Cavanagh, "you'll stop to-night with us?"

"No, James, I have an engagement of more importance than you could everdhrame of, and about--but I'm not free or at liberty to develop theplot--for plot it is--at any greater length. Many thanks to you in themane time for your hospitable intentions; but before I go, I have a wordto say. Now, what do you think of that young man's ginerosity, who wouldrather have himself thought guilty than have her thought wrong; for, whisper, --I say he's not guilty, and maybe--but, no ruatther, time willtell, and soon tell, too, plaise God. "

So saying he took up his hat, and politely wished them a pleasantevening, but firmly refused to taste another drop of liquor, "lest, "he added, "it might denude him of the necessary qualifications foraccomplishing the enterprise on which he was bint. "

When he was gone, Kathleen brought her sister to their own room, andthrowing herself on her bosom, she spoke not, but wept calmly and insilence for about twenty minutes. 

"Kathleen, " said Hanna, "I am glad to see this, and I often wished forit. "

"Whisht, dear Hanna, " she replied; "don't speak to me at present. I'm not fit to talk on that unfortunate subject yet. 'Forgive us ourtrespassess as we--we--forgive them that trespass against us!' Oh!Hanna darling, how have I prayed?" They then rejoined the family. 

CHAPTER XXIII. --Harry Clinton's Benevolence Defeated

--His Uncle's Treachery--The Marriage of Kathleen and Edward BurkeDetermined on

This partial restoration of M'Mahon to the affections of KathleenCavanagh might have terminated in a full and perfect reconciliationbetween them, were it not for circumstances which we are about todetail. From what our readers know of young Clinton, we need not assurethem that, although wild and fond of pleasure, he was by no means devoidof either generosity or principle. There were indeed few individuals, perhaps scarcely any, in the neighborhood, who felt a deeper ormanlier sympathy for the adverse fate and evil repute which had comeso suddenly, and, as he believed in his soul, undeservedly, upon BryanM'Mahon. He resolved accordingly to make an effort for the purpose ofsetting the unfortunate young man's character right with the public, orif not with the public, at least in that quarter where such a servicemight prove most beneficial to him, we mean in Gerald Cavanagh's family. Accordingly, one morning after breakfast as his uncle sat reading thenewspaper, he addressed him as follows:--

"By the way, uncle, you must excuse mo for asking you a question ortwo. "

"Certainly, Harry. Did I not often desire you never to hesitate askingme any question you wish? Why should you not?"

"This, however, may be trenching a little upon the secrets ofyour--your--profession. "

"What is it?--what is it?"

"You remember the seizure you made some time ago in the townland ofAhadarra?"

"I do perfectly well. "

"Now, uncle, excuse me. Is it fair to ask you if you know the person whofurnished you with information on that subject. Mark, I don't wish nordesire to know his name; I only ask if you know it?"

"No, I do not. "

"Do you not suspect it? It came to you anonymously, did it not?"

"Why, you are raking me with a fire of cross-examination, Harry; but itdid. "

"Should you wish to know, uncle?"

"Undoubtedly, I wish to know those to whom we are indebted for thatfortunate event. "

"Don't say we, uncle; speak only for yourself. "

"I should wish to know, though. "

"Pray have you the letter?"

"I have: you will find it in one of the upper pigeon holes; I can'tsay which; towards the left hand. I placed it there yesterday, as itturned up among some other communications of a similar stamp. "

In a few moments his nephew returned, with the precious document in hishands. 

"Now, uncle, " he proceeded, as he seated himself at the table, "youadmit that this is the letter?"

"I admit--why, you blockhead, does not the letter itself prove as much?"

"Well, then, I know the scoundrel who sent you this letter. "

"I grant you he is a scoundrel, Harry; nobody, I assure you, despiseshis tools more than I do, as in general every man does who is forced tomake use of them. Go on. "

"The man who sent you that letter was Hycy Burke. "

"Very likely, " replied the cool old Still-Hound; "But I did not think hewould ever place us--"

"You, sir, if you please. "

"Very well, me, sir, if you please, under such an important obligationto him. How do you know, though, that it was he who sent it?"

His nephew then related the circumstance of his meeting with NannyPeety, and the discovery he had made through her of the letter havingbeen both written and sent by Hycy to the post-office. In order, besides, to satisfy his relative that the getting up of the still was aplan concocted by Hycy to ruin M'Mahon, through the, medium of the fine, he detailed as much of Hycy's former proposal to him as he convenientlycould, without disclosing the part which he himself had undertaken toperform in this concerted moment. 

"Well, Harry, " replied the old fellow after a pause, "he's a d--dscoundrel, no doubt; but as his scoundrelism is his own, I don't see whywe should hesitate to avail ourselves of it. With respect, however, toM'Mahon, I can assure you, that I was informed of his intention to setup a Still a good while before I made the capture, and not by anonymousinformation either. Now, what would you say if both I and Fethertongeknew the whole plot long before it was put in practice?"

As he spoke, he screwed his hard keen features into a most knavishexpression. 

"Yes, " he added; "and I can tell you that both the agent and I forwarnedM'Mahon against suffering himself to engage in anything illegal--whichwas our duty as his friends you know--hem!"

"Is that possible?" said his nephew, blushing for this villianousadmission. 

"Quite possible, " replied the other; "however, as I said, I don't seewhy we should hesitate to avail ourselves of his villany. "

"That is precisely what I was about to say, sir, " replied his nephew, still musing on what he had heard. 

"Right, Harry; the farm is a good thing, or will be so, at least. "

"The farm, sir! but I did not speak with reference to the farm. "

"Then with reference to what did you speak?"

"I meant, sir, that we should not hesitate to avail ourselves of hisvillany, in setting M'Mahon right with the public as far as we could. "

"With the whole public!--whew! Why, my good young man, I thought thedays of giants and windmills had gone by. "

"Well, sir, " continued the nephew, "at all events there is one thing youmust do for me. I wish you to see old Gerald Cavanagh, and as far asyou can to restore his confidence in the honesty and integrity of youngM'Mahon. State to him that you have reason to know that his son has abitter enemy in the neighborhood; that great injustice had been doneto him in many ways, and that you would be glad that a reconciliationshould take place between the families. "

"And so I am to set out upon the wild goose chase of reconciling awench, and a fellow, without knowing why or wherefore. "

"No, sir--not at all---I will make Cavanough call upon you. "

"I don't understand this, " replied the uncle, rubbing behind his ear; "Idon't perceive; but pray what interest have you in the matter?"

"Upon my honor, uncle, none in life, unless an anxiety to serve poorM'Mahon. The world is down upon him about that vote which, consideringall the circumstances, was more creditable to him than otherwise. Iknow, however, that in consequence of the estrangement between him andMiss Cavanagh, he is bent on emigrating. It is that fact which pressesupon him most. Now will you oblige me in this, uncle?"

"Let Cavanagh call upon me, " he replied, "and if I can say anything tosoften the old fellow, perhaps I will. "

"Thank you, uncle--thank you--I shall not forget this kindness. "

"Well, then, " said his uncle, "I am going down to Fethertonge on acertain matter of business, you understand, and--let me see--why, ifCavanagh calls on me tomorrow about eleven, I shall see him at allevents. "

Young Clinton felt surprised and grieved at what his uncle had justhinted to him; but on the other hand, he felt considerably elated at theprospect of being able to bring about a reconciliation between these twofamilies, and with this excellent motive in view he went to Cavanagh, with whom he had a private conversation. Having been made awareby M'Mahon himself of Cavanagh's prejudice against him, and thepredilections of himself and his wife for an alliance into Burke'sfamily, he merely told him that his uncle would be glad to see him thenext day about eleven o'clock, upon which the other promised to attendto that gentleman. 

Old Clinton, on his way to Fethertonge's, met that worthy individualriding into Ballymacan. 

"I was going down to you, " said he; "but where are you bound for?"

"Into town, " replied the agent; "have you any objection to ride thatway?"

"None in the world; it is just the same to me. Well, how are mattersproceeding?"

"Not by any means well, " replied the other, "I begin to feel somethinglike alarm. I wish we had those M'Mahons out of the country. Vanstonhas paid that d--d goose Chevydale a visit, and I fear that unless theAhadarra man and his father, and the whole crew of them, soon leave thecountry, we shall break down in our object. "

"Do you tell me so?" said the gauger, starting; "by Jove, it is well Iknow this in time. "

"I don't understand. "

"Why, " continued. Clinton, "I was about to take a foolish step to-morrowmorning, for the express purpose, I believe, of keeping him, andprobably the whole family in the country. "

He then detailed the conversation that he had with his nephew, uponwhich Fethertonge convinced him that there was more in the wind withrespect to that step, than either he or his nephew, who he assuredhim was made a cat's paw of in the business, suspected. "That's a deepmove, " said the agent, "but we shall defeat them, notwithstanding. Everything, however, depends upon their leaving the country beforeChevydale happens to come at the real state of the case; still, it willgo hard or we shall baffle both him and them yet. "

Whether Clinton Was sure that the step urged upon him by his nephew wasthe result of a generous regard for M'Mahon, or that the former was madea mere tool for ultimate purposes, in the hands of the Ahadarra man, ashe called him it is not easy to determine. Be this as it may, whenthe hour of eleven came the next morning, he was prepared to set hisnephew's generosity aside, and act upon Fethertonge's theory of doingeverything in his power to get the whole connection out of the country, "Ha, " he exclaimed, "I now understand what Harry meant with respect totheir emigration--'It is that fact which presses upon him most. ' Oh ho!is it so, indeed! Very good, Mr. M'Mahon--we shall act accordingly. "

Gerald Cavanaugh had been made acquainted by his wife on the day beforewith the partial revival of his daughter's affection for Bryan M'Mahon, as well as with the enthusiastic defense of him made by Finigan, twocircumstances which gave him much concern and anxiety. On his return, however, from Clinton's, his family observed that there was something ofa satisfactory expression mingled up with a good deal of grave thoughtin his face. The truth is, if the worthy man thought for a moment thatthe ultimate loss of M'Mahon would have seriously injured her peaceof mind, he would have bitterly regretted it, and perhaps encouragea reconciliation. This was a result, however, that he could scarcelycomprehend. That she might fret and pine for a few months or so was theworst he could calculate upon, and of course he took it for granted, that the moment her affection for one was effaced, another might stepin, without any great risk of disappointment. 

"Well, Gerald, " said his wife, "what did Ganger Clinton want with you?"

Gerald looked at his two daughters and sighed unconsciously. "It's notgood news, " he proceeded, "in one sense, but it is in another; it'sgood news to all my family but that girl sittin' there, " pointing toKathleen. 

Unfortunately no evil intelligence could have rendered the unhappygirl's cheek paler than it was; so that, so far as appearances went, itwas impossible to say what effect this startling communication had uponher. 

"I was down wid Misther Clinton, " he proceeded; "he hard a report thatthere was about to be a makin' up of the differences between Kathleenthere and Bryan, and he sent for me to say, that, for the girl'ssake--who he said was, as he had heard from all quarthers, arespectable, genteel girl--he couldn't suffer a young man so full ofthraichery and desate, as he had good raisons to know Bryan M'Mahonwas, to impose himself upon her or her family. He cautioned me, " heproceeded, "and all of us against him; and said that if I allowed amarriage to take place between him and my daughter, he'd soon bringdisgrace upon her and us, as well as himself. 'You may take my word forit, Mr. Cavanagh, ' says he, 'that is not a thrifle 'ud make me send foryou in sich a business; but, as I happen to know the stuff he is madeof, I couldn't bear to see him take a decent family in so distastefully. To my own knowledge, Cavanagh, ' said he, 'he'd desave a saint, much lessyour innocent and unsuspectin' daughter. '"

"But, father, " said Hanna, "you know there's not a word of truth in thatreport; and mayn't all that has been said, or at least some of what hasbeen said against Bryan, be as much a lie as that? Who on earth: couldsich a report come from?"

"I axed Mr. Clinton the same question, " said the father, "and it appearsthat it came from Bryan himself. "

"Oh, God forbid!" exclaimed Hanna; "for, if it's a thing that he saidthat, he'd say anything. "

"I don't know, " returned the father, "I only spake it as I hard it, and, what is more, I believe it--I believe it after what I hard this day;everybody knows him now--man, woman, an' child, Gheernah! what an escapethat innocent girl had of him!"

Kathleen rose up, went over to her father, and, placing her hand uponhis shoulder, was about to speak, but she checked herself; and, afterlooking at them all, as it were by turns, with a look of distraction andcalm but concentrated agony, she returned again to her seat, but did notsit down. 

"After all, " she exclaimed, "there has been no new crime brought againsthim, not one; but, if I acted wrongly and ungenerously once, I won'tdo so again. Hanna, see his sister Dora, say I give him the next threeweeks to clear himself; and, father, listen! if he doesn't do so withinthat time, take me, marry me to Edward Burke if you wish--of courseHycy's out of the question--since you must have it so, for the soonerI go to my grave the better. There's his last chance, let him take it;but, in the mean time, listen to me, one and all of you. I cannot bearthis long; there's a dry burning pain about my heart, and a weight uponit will soon put me out of the reach of disappointment and sorrow. Oh, Bryan M'Mahon, can you be what is said of you! and, if you can, oh, whydid we ever meet, or why did I ever see you!"

Her sister Hanna attempted to console her, but for once she failed. Kathleen would hear no comfort, for she said she stood in need of none. 

"My mind is all dark, " said she, "or rather it is sick of this miserablework. Why am I fastened upon by such suffering and distraction? Don'tattempt at present to console me, Hanna; I won't, because I can't beconsoled. I wish I knew this man--whether he is honest or not. If he isthe villain they say he is, and that with a false mask upon him, he hasimposed himself on me, and gained my affections by hypocrisy and deceit, why, Hanna, my darling sister, I could stab him to the heart. To thinkthat I ever should come to love a villain that could betray his church, his country, me--and take a bribe; yes, he has done it, " she proceeded, catching fire from the force of her own detestation of what was wrong. "Here, Hanna, I call back my words--I give him no further warning thanhe has got: he knows the time, the greater part of it is past, and hashe ever made a single attempt to clear himself? No, because he cannot. I despise him; he is unworthy of me, and I fear he ever was. Here, father, " she said with vehemence, "listen to me, my dear father; andyou, my mother, beloved mother, hear me! At the expiration of threeweeks I will marry Edward Burke; he is a modest, and I think anhonest young man, who would not betray his religion nor his country, nor--nor--any unhappy girl that might happen to love him; oh, no, hewould not--and so, after three weeks--I will marry him. Go now and tellhim so--say I said so; and you may rest assured I will not break myword, although--I may break--break my heart--my heart! Now, Hanna, comeout and walk, dear--come out, and let us chat of other matters; yes, of other matters; and you can tell me candidly whether you think BryanM'Mahon such a villain. " Struck by her own words she paused almostexhausted, and, bending down, put her face upon her hands, and by a longpersevering effort, at length raised her head, and after a little timeappeared to have regained a good deal of composure; but not withouttears--for she had wept bitterly. 

On that night she told her sister that the last resolution she had cometo was that by which she was determined to abide. 

"You would not have me like a mere girl, " she said, "without the powerof knowing my own mind--no; let what may come I will send no messagesafter him--and as sure as I have life I will marry Edward Burke afterthe expiration of three weeks, if Bryan doesn't--but it's idle to talkof it--if he could he would have done it before now. Good-night, dearHanna--good-night, " and after many a long and heavy sigh she sank to anuneasy and troubled slumber. 

The next morning Gerald Cavanagh, who laid great stress upon thedistracted language of his daughter on the preceding night paid an earlyvisit to his friend, Jemmy Burke. He found the whole family assembledat breakfast, and after the usual salutations, was asked to join them, which invitation, however, having already breakfasted, he declined. Hycyhad of late been very much abroad--that is to say he was out very muchat night, and dined very frequently in the head-inn of Ballymacan, when one would suppose he ought to have dined at home. On the presentoccasion he saluted honest Gerald with a politeness peculiarly ironical. 

"Mr. Cavanagh, " said he, "I hope I see you in good health, sir. Howare all the ladies?--Hannah, the neat, and Kathleen--ah, Kathleen, thedivine!"

"Troth, they're all very well, I thank you, Hycy; and how is yourself?"

"Free from care, Mr. Cavanagh--a chartered libertine. "

"A libertine!" exclaimed the honest farmer; "troth I've occasionallyheard as much; but until I heard it from your own lips divil a word ofit I believed. "

"He is only jesting, Mr. Cavanagh, " said his brother; "he doesn't meanexactly, nor indeed at all, what you suppose he does. "

"Does he mean anything at all, Ned?" said his father, dryly, "for oflate it's no aisy matther to understand him. "

"Well said, Mr. Burke, " replied Hycy; "I am like yourself, becomingexceedingly oracular of late--but, Mr. Cavanagh, touching this exquisiteunion which is contemplated between Adonis and Juno the ox-eyed--doesit still hold good, that, provided always she cannot secure the corruptclod-hopper, she will in that ease condescend upon Adonis?"

"Gerald, " said the father, "as there's none here so handy at thenonsense as to understand him, the best way is to let him answerhimself. "

"Begad, Jemmy, " said Cavanagh, "to tell you the truth, I haven'tnonsense enough to answer the last question at any rate; unless hetakes to speakin' common-sense I won't undhertake to hould any furtherdiscourse wid him. "

"Why will you continue, " said his brother in a low voice, "to renderyourself liable to these strong rebuffs from plain people?"

"Well said, most vituline--_Solomon secundus_, well said. "

"Hycy, " said his mother, "you ought to remimber that every one didn'tget the edi cation you did--an' that ignorant people like your father andGerald Kavanagh there can't undhercomestand one-half o' what you say. Sure they know nothing o' book-lamin', and why do you give it them?"

"Simply to move their metaphysics, Mrs. Burke. They are two of the mostnotorious metaphysicians from this to themselves; but they don't possessyour powers of ratiocination, madam?"

"No, " replied his father; "nayther are we sich judges of horseflesh, Hycy. "

Hycy made him a polite bow, and replied, "One would think that jokeis pretty well worn by this time, Mr. Burke. Couldn't you strike outsomething original now?"

"All I can say is, " replied the father, "that the joke has bettherbottom than the garran it was made upon. "

Edward now arose and left the parlor, evidently annoyed at the emptyribaldry of his brother, and in a few minutes Hycy mounted his horse androde towards Ballymacan. 

It is not our intention here to follow Gerald Cavanagh in the account, unconsciously one sided as it was, of the consent which he assured themKathleen had given, on the night before, to marry their son Edward. It is sufficient to say, that before they separated, the match wasabsolutely made by the two worthies, and everything arranged, with, theexception of the day of marriage, which they promised to determine on attheir next meeting. 

CHAPTER XXIV. --Thoughts on Our Country and Our Countrymen

--Dora and Her Lover. 

The state of the country, at this period of our narrative, was fullof gloom and depression. Spring had now set in, and the numbers of ourindependent and most industrious countrymen that flocked towards ourgreat seaports were reckoned by many thousands; and this had been thecase for many a season previously. That something was wrong, and thatsomething is wrong in the country must, alas! be evident from themyriad's who, whilst they have the means in their hands, are anxious toget out of it as fast as they can. And yet there is not a country in theworld, a population so affectionately attached to the soil--to the placeof their birth--as the Irish. In fact, the love of their native fields, their green meadows, the dark mountains, and the glorious torrents thatgush from them, is a passion of which they have in foreign landsbeen often known to die. It is called Home Sickness, and we are awareourselves of more than one or two cases in which individuals, in acomparatively early stage of life, have pined away in secret after theirnative hills, until the malady becoming known, unfortunately too late, they sought once more the green fields and valleys among which they hadspent their youth, just in time to lay down their pale cheeks and restin their native clay for ever those hearts which absence and separationfrom the very soil had broken. 

Now, nothing can be a greater proof of the pressure, the neglect, thehopelessness of independence or comfort, which the condition of thepeople, and the circumstances which occasioned it, have produced, thanthe fact that the strong and sacred attachment which we have describedis utterly incapable of attaching them as residents in a country soindescribably dear to their best affections. People may ask, and do ask, and will ask, why Ireland is in such a peculiarly distressed state--whythere is always upon its surface a floating mass of pauperism withoutparallel in Europe, or perhaps in the world? To this we reply simplybecause the duties of property have uniformly been neglected. And inwhat, may it be asked, do the duties of property consist? To this wereply again, in an earnest fixed resolution to promote, in the firstplace, the best social and domestic interests of the people, to improvetheir condition, to stock their minds with, useful and appropriateknowledge, to see that they shall be taught what a sense of decentcomfort means, that they shall not rest satisfied with a wad of strawfor a bed, and a meal of potatoes for food, and that they shall, besides, come to understand the importance of their own position asmembers of civil society. Had the landlords of Ireland paid attentionto these and other matters that directly involve their own welfare andindependence, as well as those of their neglected tenantry, they wouldnot be, as they now are, a class of men, some absolutely bankrupt, andmore on the very eve of it; and all this, to use a commercial phrasepainfully appropriate, --because they neglect their business. 

Who, until lately, ever heard of an Irish landlord having made thesubject of property, or the principles upon which it ought to beadministered, his study? By this we do not mean to say that they did notoccasionally bestow a thought upon their own interests; but, in doingso, they were guided by erroneous principles that led them to placethese interests in antagonism with those of the people. They forgotthat poverty is the most fertile source of population, and that in everyneglected and ill-regulated state of society, they invariably reproduceeach other; but the landlords kept the people poor, and now theyare surprised, forsooth, at their poverty and the existence of asuperabundant population. 

"We know, " said they, "that the people are poor; but we know also that, by subsisting merely upon the potato, and excluding better food and ahigher state of comfort, of course the more is left for the landlord. "This in general was their principle--and its consequences are now uponthemselves. 

This, however, is a subject on which it is not our intention toexpatiate here. What we say is, that, in all the relations of civillife, Her people were shamefully and criminally neglected. They wereleft without education, permitted to remain ignorant of the arts oflife, and of that industrial knowledge on which, or rather on theapplication of which, all public prosperity is based. 

And yet, although the people have great errors, without which no peopleso long neglected can ever be found, and, although they have been forcenturies familiarized with suffering, yet it is absolute dread ofpoverty that drives them from their native soil; They understand, in fact, the progress of pauperism too well, and are willing to seekfortune in any clime, rather than abide its approach to themselves--anapproach which they know is in their case inevitable and certain. Forinstance, the very class of our countrymen that constitutes the greatbulk of our emigrants is to be found among those independent smallfarmers who appear to understand something like comfort. One of thesemen holding, say sixteen or eighteen acres, has a family we will supposeof four sons and three daughters. This family grows up, the eldest sonmarries, and the father, having no other way to provide for him, setsapart three or four acres of his farm, on which he and his wife settle. The second comes also to marry, and hopes his father won't treat himworse than he treated his brother. He accordingly gets four acres more, and settles down as his brother did. In this manner the holding isfrittered away and subdivided among them. For the first few years--thatis, before their children rise--they may struggle tolerably well; but, at the expiration of twenty or twenty-five years, each brother findshimself with such a family as his little strip of land cannot adequatelysupport, setting aside the claims of the landlord altogether; for rentin these cases is almost out of the question. 

What, then, is the consequence? Why, that here is to be found apopulation of paupers squatted upon patches of land quite incapable oftheir support; and in seasons of famine and sickness, especially in acountry where labor is below its value, and employment inadequate to thedemand that is for it, this same population becomes a helpless burthenupon it--a miserable addition to the mass of poverty and destitutionunder which it groans. 

Such is the history of one class of emigrants in this unhappy land, of ours; and what small farmer, with such a destiny as that we havedetailed staring him and his in the face, would not strain every nervethat he might fly to any country--rather than remain to encounter thefrightful state of suffering which awaits him in this. 

Such, then, is an illustration of the motives which prompt one classof emigrants to seek their fortune in other climes, while it is yet intheir power to do so. There is still a higher class, however, consistingof strong farmers possessed of some property and wealth, who, on lookingaround them, find that the mass of destitution which is so rapidlyincreasing in every direction must necessarily press upon them in time, and ultimately drag them down to its own level. But even if the nakedevils which pervade society among us were not capable of driving theseindependent yeomen to other lands, we can assure our legislatorsthat what these circumstances, appalling as they are, may fail inaccomplishing, the recent act for the extra relief of able-bodiedpaupers will complete--an act which, instead of being termed a ReliefAct, ought to be called an act for the ruin of the country, and theconfiscation of its property, both of which, if not repealed, it willultimately accomplish. We need not mention here cases of individualneglect or injustice upon the part of landlords and agents, inasmuch aswe have partially founded our narrative upon a fact of this description. 

It has been said, we know, and in many instances with truth, that theIrish are a negligent and careless people--without that perseverance andenterprise for which their neighbors on the other side of the channelare so remarkable. We are not, in point of fact, about to dispute thejustice of this charge; but, if it be true of the people, it is only soindirectly. It is true of their condition and social circumstances inthis country, rather than of any constitutional deficiency in eitherenergy or industry that is inherent in their character. In their owncountry they have not adequate motive for action--no guarantee thatindustry shall secure them independence, or that the fruits of theirlabor may not pass, at the will of; their landlords, into other hands. Many, therefore, of the general imputations that are brought againstthem in these respects, ought to be transferred rather to the depressingcircumstances in which they are placed than to the people themselves. As a proof of; this, we have only to reflect upon their industry, enterprise, and success, when relieved from the pressure of thesecircumstances in other countries--especially in America, where exertionand industry never, or at least seldom, fail to arrive at comfort andindependence. Make, then, the position of the Irishman reasonable--such, for instance, as it is in any other country but his own--and he canstand the test of comparison with any man. 

Not only, however, are the Irish flying from the evils that are to come, but they feel a most affectionate anxiety to enable all those who arebound to them by the ties of kindred and domestic affection to imitatetheir example. There is not probably to be found in records of humanattachment such a beautiful history of unforgotten affection, as thatpresented by the heroic devotion of Irish emigrants to those of theirkindred who remain here from inability to accompany them. *

 *The following extract, from a very sensible pamphlet by Mr. Murray, is so appropriate to this subject, that we cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of quoting it here:--

 "You have been accustomed to grapple with and master figures, whether as representing the produce of former tariffs, or in constructing new ones, or in showing the income and expenditure of the greatest nation on the earth. Those now about to be presented to you, as an appendix to this communication, are small, very small, in their separate amounts, and not by any means in the aggregate of the magnitude of the sums you have been accustomed to deal with; but they are large separately, and heaving large in the aggregate, in all that is connected with the higher and nobler parts of our nature--in all that relates to and evinces the feelings of the heart towards those who are of our kindred, no matter by what waters placed asunder or by what distance separated. They are large, powerfully large, in reading lessons of instruction to the statesman and philanthropist, in dealing with a warm-hearted people for their good, and placing them in a position of comparative comfort to that in which they now are. The figures represent the particulars of 7, 917 separate Bills of Exchange, varying in amount from £1 to £10 each--a few exceeding the latter sum; so many separate offerings from the natives of Ireland who have heretofore emigrated from its shores, sent to their relations and friends in Ireland, drawn and paid between the 1st of January and the 15th of December, 1846--not quite one year; and amount in all to £41, 261 9s. 11d. But this list, long though it be, does not measure the number and amount of such interesting offerings. It contains only about one-third part of the whole number and value of such remittances that have crossed the Atlantic to Ireland during the 349 days of 1846. The data from which this list is complied enable the writer to estimate with confidence the number and amount drawn otherwise; and he calculates that the entire number, for not quite one year, of such Bills, is £24, 000, and the amount £125, 000, or, on an average, £5 4s. 3d. Each. They are sent from husband to wife, from father to child, from child to father, mother, and grand-parents, from sister to brother, and the reverse; and from and to those united by all the ties of blood and friendship that bind us together on earth. 

 In the list, you will observe that these offerings of affection are classed according to the parts of Ireland they are drawn upon, and you will find that they are not confined to one spot of it, but are general as regards the whole country. "--_Ireland. Its Present Condition and Future Prospects, In n letter addressed to the Right Honorable Sir Robert Peel, Baronet, by Robert Murray. Esq. Dublin, James M'Olashan, 21 D'Olier Street, 1847_. 

Let it not be said, then, that the Irishman is deficient in any of themoral elements or natural qualities which go to the formation of sucha character as might be made honorable to himself and beneficial to thecountry. By the success of his exertions in a foreign land, it is clearthat he is not without industry, enterprise, and perseverance; and wehave no hesitation in saying that, if he were supplied at home with dueencouragement and adequate motive, his good qualities could be developedwith as much zeal, energy, and success as ever characterized them in aforeign country. 

We trust the reader may understand what the condition of the country, atthe period of our narrative to which we refer, must have been, when suchmultitudes as we have described rushed to our great seaports in order toemigrate; the worst feature in this annual movement being that, whilstthe decent, the industrious, and the moral, all influenced by creditablemotives, went to seek independence in a distant land, the idle, theignorant, and the destitute necessarily remain at home--all as aburthen, and too many of them as a disgrace to the country. 

Our friends the M'Mahons, urged by motives at once so strong andpainful, were not capable of resisting the contagion of emigrationwhich, under the circumstances we have detailed, was so rife amongthe people. It was, however, on their part a distressing and mournfulresolve. From the, moment it was made, a gloom settled upon thewhole family. Nothing a few months before had been farther from theirthoughts; but now there existed such a combination of arguments fortheir departure, as influenced Bryan and his father, in spite of theirhereditary attachment to Ahadarra and Carriglass. Between them and theCavanaghs, ever since Gerald had delivered Kathleen's message to Bryan, there was scarcely any intercourse. Hanna, 'tis true, and Dora had anopportunity of exchanging a few words occasionally, but although theformer felt much anxiety for a somewhat lengthened and if possibleconfidential conversation with her sparkling little friend, yet thelatter kept proudly if not haughtily silent on one particular subject, feeling as she did, that anything like a concession on her part washumiliating, and might be misconstrued into a disposition to compromisethe independence of her brother and family. But even poor Dora, notwithstanding her affectionate heart and high spirit, had her ownsorrows to contend with, sorrows known only to her brother Bryan, whofelt disposed to befriend her in them as far as he could. So indeedwould every one of the family, had they known them, for we need scarcelysay that the warm and generous girl was the centre in which all theiraffections met. And this indeed was only justice to her, inasmuch as shewas willing on any occasion to sacrifice her interests, her wishes, oranything connected with her own welfare, to their individual or generalhappiness. We have said, however, that she had her own sorrows, andthis was true. From the moment she felt assured that their emigrationto America was certain, she manifested a depression so profound andmelancholy, that the heart of her brother Bryan, who alone knew itscause, bled for her. This by the rest of the family was imputed to thenatural regret she felt, in common with themselves, at leaving the oldplaces for ever, with this difference to be sure--they imagined that shefelt the separation more acutely than they did. Still, as the periodfor their departure approached, there was not one of the family, notwithstanding what she felt herself, who labored so incessantly tosoothe and sustain the spirits of her father, who was fast sinking underthe prospect of being "forever removed, " as he said, "from the placeshis heart had grown into. " She was in fact the general consoler of thefamily, and yet her eye scarcely ever met that of her brother that atear did not tremble in it, and she felt disposed to burst out into anagony of unrestrained grief. 

It was one evening in the week previous to their departure, that shewas on her return from Ballymacan, when on passing a bend of the roadbetween Carriglass and Fenton's farm, she met the cause of the sorrowwhich oppressed her, in the handsome person of James Cavanaugh, towhom she had been for more than a year and a half deeply and devotedlyattached, but without the knowledge of any individual living, save herlover himself and her brother Bryan. 

On seeing him she naturally started, but it was a start of pleasure, andshe felt her cheek flush and again get pale, and her heart palpitated, then was still a moment, and again resumed its tumultuous pulsations. 

"Blessed be God, my darlin' Dora, that I've met you at last, " saidJames; "in heaven's name how did it happen that we haven't met for sucha length of time?"

"I'm sure that's more than I can tell, " replied Dora, "or rather it'swhat both, you and I know the cause of too well. "

"Ah, poor Dora, " he exclaimed, "for your sake I don't wish to spakeabout it at all; it left me many a sore heart when I thought of you. "

Dora's natural pale cheek mantled, and her eyes deepened with abeautiful severity, as she hastily turned them on him and said, "what doyou mane, James?"

"About poor Bryan's conduct at the election, " he replied, "and thatfifty-pound note; and may hell consume it and him that tempted him withit!"

"Do you forget, " she said, "that you're spaking to his sister that knowsthe falsehood of it all; an' how dare you in my presence attempt to sayor think that Bryan M'Mahon would or could do a mane or dishonest act?I'm afeard, James, there's a kind of low suspicion in your family that'snot right, and I have my reasons for thinking so. I fear there's a wantof true generosity among you; and if I could be sure of it, I tell younow, that whatever it might cost me, I'd never--but what am I sayin'?that's past. "

"Past! oh, why do you spake that way, Dora dear?"

"It's no matter what I may suffer myself, " she replied; "no matter atall about that; but wanst and for all, I tell you that let what mayhappen, I'm not the girl to go into a family that have treated my dearbrother as yours has done. Your sister's conduct has been very harsh andcruel to the man she was to be married to. "

"My sister, Dora, never did anything but what was right. "

"Well, then, let her go and marry the Pope, with reverence be it spoken, for I don't know any other husband that's fit for her. I'd like to seethe girl that never did anything wrong; it's a sight I never saw yet, Iknow. "

"Dora, dear, " replied her lover, "I don't blame you for being angry. Iknow that such a load of disgrace upon any family is enough to put onepast their temper. I don't care about that, however, " he proceeded; "ifhe had betrayed his church and his country ten times over, an' got fivehundred pounds instead of fifty, it wouldn't prevent me from makin' youmy wife. "

Her eyes almost emitted fire at this unconsciously offensive languageof Cavanagh. She calmed herself, however, and assumed a manner that wascool and cuttingly ironical. 

"Wouldn't you, indeed?" she replied; "dear me! I have a right to beproud of that; and so you'd be mane enough to marry into a familyblackened by disgrace. I thought you had some decent pride, James. "

"But you have done nothing wrong, Dora, " he replied; "'you're free fromany blame of that kind. "

"I have done nothing wrong, haven't I?" she returned. "Ay, a thousandthings--for, thank God, I'm not infallible like your sister. Haven't Isupported my brother in every thing he did? and I tell you that if I hadbeen in his place I'd just 'a' done what he did. What do you think o' menow?"

"Why, that every word you say, and every lively look--ay, or angry ifyou like--that you give--makes me love you more and more. An' plase God, my dear Dora, I hope soon to see you my own darlin' wife. "

"That's by no means a certain affair, James; an' don't rely upon it. Before ever I become your wife Kathleen must change her conduct to mybrother. "

"'Deed and I'm afraid that shell never do, Dora. "

"Then the sorra ring ever I'll put on you while there's, breath in mybody. "

"Why, didn't she give him three months to clear himself?"

"Did she, indeed? And do you think that any young man of spirit wouldpay attention to such a stilted pride as that? It was her business tosend for him face to face, and to say--'Bryan M'Mahon, I never knew youor one of your family to tell a lie or do a dishonest or disgracefulact'--and here as she spoke the tears of that ancient integrity andhereditary pride which are more precious relics in a family thanthe costliest jewels that ever sparkled in the sun, sprang from hereyes--'and now, Bryan M'Mahon, I ax no man's word but your own--I ax noother evidence but your own--I put it to your conscience--to that honorthat has never yet been tarnished by any of your family, I say I put itto yourself, here face to face with the girl that loves you--and answerme as you are in the presence of God--did you do what they charge youwith? Did you do wrong knowingly and deliberately, and against your ownconscience?"

The animated sparkle of her face was so delightful and fascinating thather lover attempted to press her to his bosom; but she would not sufferit. 

"Behave now, " she said firmly; "sorra bit--no, " she proceeded; "andwhilst all the world was against him, runnin' him down and blackenin'him--was she ever the girl to stand up behind his back and defend himlike a--hem--defend him, I say, as a girl that loved him ought, and agenerous-girl would?"

"But how could she when she believed, him to be wrong?"

"Why did she believe him to be wrong upon mere hearsay? and grantingthat he was wrong! do you think now if you had done what they say he did(and they lie that say it), an' that I heard the world down on you foryour first slip, do you think, I say, that I'd not defend you out ofclane contrariness, --and to vex them--ay, would I. "

"I know, darlin', that you'd do everything that's generous an' right;but settin' that affair aside, my dear Dora, what are you and I to do?"

"I don't know what we're to do, " she replied; "it's useless for you toax me from my father now; for he wouldn't give me to you, --sorra bit. "

"But you'll give me yourself, Dora, darling. "

"Not without his consent, no nor with it, --as the families stand thismoment; for I tell you again that the sorra ring ever I'll put on youtill your sister sends for my brother, axes his pardon, and makes upwith him, as she ought to do. Oh why, James dear, should she be so harshupon him, " she said, softening at once; "she that is so good an' sofaultless afther all? but I suppose that's the raison of it--she doesn'tknow what it is to do anything that's not right. "

"Dora, " said her lover, "don't be harsh on Kathleen; you don't know whatshe's sufferin'. Dora, her heart's broke--broke. "

The tears were already upon Dora's cheeks, and her lover, too, wassilent for a moment. 

"She has, " resumed the warm-hearted girl, "neither brother nor sisterthat loves her, or can love her, better than I do, afther all. "

"But in our case, darling, what's to be done?" he asked, drawing hergently towards him. 

"I'll tell you then what I'd recommend you to do, " she replied; "spaketo my brother Bryan, and be guided by him. I must go now, it's quitedusk. "

There was a moment's pause, then a gentle remonstrance on the part ofDora, followed, however, by that soft sound which proceeds from thepressure of youthful lips--after which she bade her lover a hastygood-night and hurried home. 

[Illustration: PAGE 623-- I must leave you--I must go]

CHAPTER XXV. --The Old Places--Death of a Patriarch. 

As the day appointed for the auction of the M'Mahon's stock, furniture, etc. , etc. , at Carriglass drew near, a spirit of deep and unceasingdistress settled upon the whole family. It had not been their purpose toapprise the old man of any intention on their part to emigrate at all, and neither indeed had they done so. The fact, however, reached him fromthe neighbors, several of whom, ignorant that it was the wish of hisfamily to conceal the circumstance from him--at least as long as theycould--entered into conversation with him upon it, and by this meanshe became acquainted with their determination. Age, within the lastfew months--for he was now past ninety--had made sad work with both hisframe and intellect. Indeed, for some time past, he might be saidto hover between reason and dotage. Decrepitude had set in with suchravages on his constitution that it could almost be marked by dailystages. Sometimes he talked with singular good sense and feeling; buton other occasions he either babbled quite heedlessly, or his intellectwould wander back to scenes and incidents of earlier life, many of whichhe detailed with a pathos that was created and made touching by theunconsciousness of his own state while relating them. They also observedthat of late he began to manifest a child-like cunning in many thingsconnected with himself and family, which, though amusing from its verysimplicity, afforded at the same time a certain indication that thegood old grandfather whom they all loved so well, and whose benignantcharacter had been only mellowed by age into a more plastic affectionfor them all, was soon to be removed from before their eyes, never againto diffuse among them that charm of domestic truth and love, and theholy influences of all those fine old virtues which ancestral integritysheds over the heart, and transmits pure and untarnished from generationto generation. 

On the day he made the discovery of their intention, he had been sittingon a bench in the garden, a favorite seat of his for many a long yearpreviously; "And so, " said he to the neighbor with whom he had beenspeaking, "you tell me that all our family is goin' to America?"

"Why, dear me, " replied his acquaintance, "is it possible you didn'tknow it?"

"Ha!" he exclaimed, "I undherstand now why they used to be whisperin'together so often, and lookin' at me; but indeed they might spake loudenough now, for I'm so deaf that I can hardly hear anything. Howaniver, Ned, listen--they all intend to go, you say; now listen, I say--I knowone that won't go; now, do you hear that? You needn't say anything aboutit, but this I tell you--listen to me, what's your name? Barney, is it?"

"Why, is it possible, you don't know Ned Gormley?"

"Ay, Ned Gormley--och, so it is. Well listen, Ned--there's one theywon't bring; I can tell you that--the sorra foot I'll go to--to--where'sthis you say they're goin' to, Jemmy?"

Gormley shook his head. "Poor Bryan, " said he, "it's nearly all over widyou, at any rate. To America, Bryan, " he repeated, in a loud voice. 

"Ay, to America. Well, the sorra foot ever I'll go to America--that onething I can tell them. I'm goin' in. Oh! never mind, " he exclaimed, on Gormley offering him assistance, "I'm stout enough still; stout an'active still; as soople as a two-year ould, thank God. Don't I bear upwonderfully?"

"Well, indeed you do, Bryan; it is wonderful, sure enough. "

In a few minutes they arrived at the door; and the old man, recoveringas it were a portion of his former intellect, said, "lavin' thisplace--these houses--an' goin' away--far, far away--to a strangecountry--to strange people! an' to bring me, the ould white-hairedgrandfather, away from all! that would be cruel; but my son Tom willnever do it. "

"Well, at any rate, Bryan, " said his neighbor, "whether you go or stay, God be wid you. It's a pity, God knows, that the like of you and yourfamily should leave the country; and sure if the landlord, as they say, is angry about it, why doesn't he do what he ought to do? an' why doeshe allow that smooth-tongued rap to lead him by the nose as he does?Howandiver, as I said, whether you go or stay, Bryan, God be wid you!"

During all that morning Thomas M'Mahon had been evidently suffering verydeeply from a contemplation of the change that was about to take placeby the departure of himself and his family from Carriglass. He had beensilent the greater part of the morning, and not unfrequently forced togive away to tears, in which he was joined by his daughters, with theexception of Dora, who, having assumed the office of comforter, feltherself bound to maintain the appearance of a firmness which she didnot feel. In this mood he was when "grandfather, " as they called him, entered the house, after having been made acquainted with their secret. "Tom, " said he, approaching his son, "sure you wouldn't go to bring anould man away?"

"Where to, father?" asked the other, a good deal alarmed. 

"Why, to America, where you're all goin' to. Oh! surely you wouldn'tbring the old man away from the green fields of Carriglass? Would youlay my white head in a strange land, an' among a strange people? Wouldyou take poor ould grandfather away from them that expects him down, atCarndhu where they sleep? Carndhu's a holy churchyard. Sure there neverwas a Protestant buried in it but one, an' the next mornin' there was aboortree bush growin' out o' the grave, an' it's there yet to prove themaricle. Oh! ay, Carndhu's holy ground, an' that's where I must sleep. "

These words were uttered with a tone of such earnest and childlikeentreaty as rendered them affecting in a most extraordinary degree, anddoubly so to those who heard him. Thomas's eyes, despite of every effortto the contrary, filled with tears. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "he has found itout at last; but how can I give him consolation, an' I stands in need ofit so much myself?"

"Father, " said he, rising and placing the old man in the arm-chair, which for the last half century had been his accustomed seat, "father, we will go together--we will all be wid you. You'll not be amongstrangers--you'll have your own about you still. "

"But what's takin' you all away?"

"Neglect and injustice, an' the evil tongues of them that ought to knowus betther. The landlord didn't turn out to be what he ought to be. MayGod forgive him! But at any rate I'm sure he has been misled. "

"Ould Chevydale, " said his father, "never was a bad landlord, an' he'dnot become a bad one now. That's not it. "

"But the ould man's dead, father, an' its his son we're spakin' of. "

"And the son of ould Chevydale must have something good about him. Theheart was always right wid his father, and every one knows there's agreat deal in true blood. Sooner or later it'll tell for itself--butwhat is this? There was something troublin' me this minute. Oh! ay, you're goin' away, then, to America; but, mark my words:--I won't go. You may, but I'll stay here. I won't lave the green fields of Carriglassfor any one. It's not much I'll be among them now, an' it isn't worthyour while to take me from them. Here's where I was born--here's wherethe limbs that's now stiff an' feeble was wanst young and active--here'swhere the hair that's white as snow was fair an' curlin' likegoold--here's where I was young--here's where I grew ould--among thesedark hills and green fields--here you all know is where I was born; and, in spite o' you all, here's where I'll die. "

The old man was much moved by all these recollections; for, as heproceeded, the tears fell fast from his aged eyes, and his voice becametremulous and full of 'sorrow. 

"Wasn't it here, too, " he proceeded, "that Peggy Slevin, she that wasfamed far an' near for her beauty, and that the sweet song was madeupon--'Peggy Na Laveen'---ay--ay, you may think yourselves fine an'handsome; but, where was there sich a couple as grandfather and Peggy NaLaveen was then?"

As he uttered these words, his features that had been impressed bygrief, were lit up by a smile of that simple and harmless vanity whichoften attends us to the very grave; after which he proceeded:--

"There, on the side of that hill is the roofless house where she wasborn; an' there's not a field or hill about the place that her feetdidn't make holy to me. I remember her well. I see her, an' I think Ihear her voice on the top of Lisbane, ringin' sweetly across the valleyof the Mountain Wather, as I often did. An' is it to take me away nowfrom all this? Oh! no, childre', the white-haired grandfather couldn'tgo. He couldn't lave the ould places--the ould places. If he did, he'ddie--he'd die. Oh, don't, for God's sake, Tom, as you love me!"

There was a spirit of helpless entreaty in these last words that touchedhis son, and indeed all who heard him, to the quick. 

"Grandfather dear, be quiet, " he replied; "God will direct all thingsfor the best. Don't cry, " he added, for the old man was crying like aninfant; "don't cry, but be quiet, and everything will be well in time. It's a great trial, I know; but any change is better than to remainhere till we come, like so many others, to beggary. God will support us, father. "

The old man wiped his eyes, and seemed as if he had taken comfortfrom the words of his son; whereas, the fact was, that his mind hadaltogether passed from the subject; but not without that unconsciousfeeling of pain which frequently remains after the recollection of thatwhich has occasioned it has passed away. 

It was evident, from the manner of the old man, that the knowledgeof their intended emigration had alarmed into action all the dormantinstincts of his nature; but this was clearly more than they werecompetent to sustain for any length of time. Neither the totteringframe, nor the feeble mind was strong enough to meet the shockwhich came so unexpectedly upon them. The consequence may be easilyanticipated. On the following day he was able to be up only for an hour;yet he was not sick, nor did he complain of any particular pain. Hisonly malady appeared to consist in that last and general prostration ofbodily and intellectual strength, by which persons of extreme old age, who have enjoyed uninterrupted health, are affected at, or immediatelypreceding their dissolution. His mind, however, though wandering andunsteady, was vigorous in such manifestations as it made. For instance, it seemed to be impressed by a twofold influence, --the memory of hisearly life, --mingled with a vague perception of present anxiety, thecause of which he occasionally was able to remember, but as often triedto recollect in vain. 

On the second day after his discovery he was unable to rise at all; but, as before, he complained of nothing, neither were his spirits depressed. On the contrary they were rather agitated--sometimes into cheerfulness, but more frequently into an expression of sorrow and lamentation, whichwere, however, blended with old by-gone memories that were peculiarlyreflecting to those who heard them. In this way he went on, sinkinggradually until the day previous to the auction. On that morning, totheir surprise, he appeared to have absolutely regained new strength, and to have been gifted with something like renovated power of speech. 

"I want to get up, " said he, "and it's only Tom an' Dora that I'll allowto help me. You're all good, an' wor always good to grandfather, but Tomwas my best son, and signs on it--everything thruv wid him, an' God willprosper an' bless him. Where's Dora?"

"Here, grandfather. "

"Ay, that's the voice above all o' them that went like music to myheart; but well I know, and always did, who you have that voice from;ay, an' I know whose eyes--an' it's them that's the lovely eyes--Dorahas. Isn't the day fine, Dora?"

"It is, grandfather, a beautiful day. "

"Ay, thank God. Well then I want to go out till I look--take one look atthe ould places; for somehow I think my heart was never so much in themas now. "

It is impossible to say how or why the feeling prevailed, but the factwas, that the whole family were impressed with a conviction that thispartial and sudden restoration of his powers was merely what is termedthe lightening before death, and the consequence was, that every word hespoke occasioned their grief, for the loss of the venerable and virtuouspatriarch, to break out with greater force. When he was dressed hecalled Dora to aid her father in bringing him out, which she did withstreaming eyes and sobbings that she could scarcely restrain. Afterhaving reached a little green eminence that commanded a glorious view ofthe rich country beneath and around them, he called for his chair; "an', Bryan, " said he, "the manly and honest-hearted, do you bring it to me. A blessin' will follow you, Bryan--a blessin' will follow my manlygrandson, that I often had a proud heart out of. An'; Bryan, " heproceeded, when the latter had returned with the chair and placed himin it, "listen, Bryan--when you and Kathleen Cavanagh's married--but Ineedn't say it--where was there one of your name to do an unmanly thingin that respect?--but when you and Kathleen's married, be to her as yourown father was to her that's gone--ever and always kind and lovin', an' what your grandfather that's now spaking to you, maybe for the lasttime, was to her that's long, long an angel in heaven--my own PeggySlevin--but it's the Irish sound of it I like--Peggy Na Laveen. Bringthem all out here--but what is this?--why are you all cryin'? Sure;there's nothing wrong--an' why do you cry?"

The other members of the family then assembled with tearful faces, andthe good old man proceeded:--

"Thomas M'Mahon, stand before me. " The latter, with uncovered head, didso; and his father resumed:--"Thomas M'Mahon, you're the only livin' sonI have, an' I'm now makin' my Will. I lave this farm of Carriglass toyou, while you live, wid all that's on it and in it;--that is, that Ihave any right to lave you--I lave it to you wid my blessin', and mayGod grant you long life and health to enjoy it. Ahadarra isn't mine togive, but, Bryan, it's your's; an' as I said to your father, God grantyou health and long life to enjoy it, as he will to both o' you. "

"Oh! little you know, grandfather dear, " replied Shibby, "that we'vedone wid both of them for ever. "

"Shibby, God bless you, achora, " he returned; "but the ould man's lipscan spake nothing now but the truth; an' my blessin' an' my wish, comin'from the Almighty as they do, won't pass away like common words. " Hethen paused for a few minutes, but appeared to take a comprehensive viewof the surrounding country. 

"But, grandfather, " proceeded simple-hearted Shibby, "sure the matchbetween Bryan and Kathleen Cavanagh is broken up, an' they're not to bemarried at all. "

"Don't I say, darlin', that they will be married, an' be happy--ay, an' may God make them happy! as He will, blessed be His holy name! God, acushla, can bring about everything in His own good way. "

After another pause of some minutes he murmured to himself--"Peggy NaLaveen--Peggy Na Laveen--how far that name has gone! Turn me round alittle. What brought us here, childre'? Oh! ay--I wanted to see the ouldplaces--there's Claghleim, where the walls of the house she was bornin, and the green garden, is both to the fore; yet I hope they won't bedisturbed, if it was only for the sake of them that's gone; an' there'sthe rock on the top of Lisbane, where, in the summer evening, long, longago, I used to sit an' listen to Peggy Na Laveen singin' over our holysongs--the darlin' ould songs of the counthry. Oh! clear an' sweet theyused to ring across the glen of the Mountain Wather. An' there's thehills an' the fields where she an' I so often sported when we wor bothyoung; there they are, an' many a happy day we had on them; but sure Godwas good to us, blessed be His name, as He ever will be to them that'sobadient to His holy will!"

As he uttered the last words he clasped his two hands together, and, having closed his eyes, he muttered something internally which theycould not understand. "Now, " said he, "bring me in again; I have got mylast look at them all--the ould places, the brave ould places! oh, whowould lave them for any other country? But at any rate, Tom, achora, don't take me away from them; sure you wouldn't part me from the greenfields of Carriglass? Sure you'd not take me from the blessed graveyardof Carndhu, where we all sleep. I couldn't rest in a sthrange grave, nor among strange people; I couldn't rest, barrin' I'm wid her, Peggy NaLaveen. " These words he uttered after his return into the house. 

"Grandfather, " said Bryan, "make your mind aisy; we won't take youfrom the brave ould places, and you will sleep in Carndhu with Peggy NaLaveen; make your heart and mind easy, then, for you won't be parted. "

He turned his eyes upon the speaker, and a gleam of exultation anddelight settled upon his worn but venerable features; nor did it whollypass away, for, although his chin sank upon his breast, yet the placidexpression remained. On raising his head they perceived that this fineand patriarchal representative of the truthful integrity and simplemanners of a bygone class had passed into a life where neither agenor care can oppress the spirit, and from whose enjoyment no fear ofseparation can ever disturb it. 

It is unnecessary to describe the sorrow which they felt. It must besufficient to say that seldom has grief for one so far advanced inyears been so sincere and deep. Age, joined to the knowledge of hisaffectionate heart and many virtues, had encircled him with a halo oflove and pious veneration which caused his disappearance from among themto be felt, as if a lamb of simple piety and unsullied truth had beenremoved from their path for ever. 

That, indeed, was a busy and a melancholy day with the M'Mahons; for, in addition to the death of the old grandfather, they were obliged toreceive farewell visits to no end from their relations, neighbors, andacquaintances. Indeed it would be difficult to find a family in a stateof greater distress and sorrow. The auction, of course, was postponedfor a week--that is, until after the old man's funeral--and theconsequence was that circumstances, affecting the fate of our _dramatispersonae_ had time to be developed, which would otherwise have occurredtoo late to be available for the purposes of our narrative. This rendersit necessary that we should return to a period in it somewhat anteriorto that at which we have now arrived. 

CHAPTEE XXVI. --Containing a Variety of Matters. 

Our readers cannot have forgotten the angry dialogue which Kate Hoganand her male relations indulged in upon the misunderstanding that hadoccurred between the Cavanaghs and M'Mahons, and its imputed cause. We stated at the time that Hycy Burke and the Hogans, together with astrange man and woman, were embarked in some mysterious proceedings fromwhich both Kate Hogan and Teddy Phats had been excluded. For some time, both before and after that night, there had been, on the other hand, a good, deal of mysterious communication between several of our othercharacters. For instance Kate Hogan and Nanny Peety had had frequentinterviews, to which, in the course of time, old Peety, Teddy Phats, and, after him, our friend the schoolmaster had been admitted. NannyPeety had also called on Father Magowan, and, after him, upon youngClinton; and it was evident, from the result of her disclosures to thetwo latter, that they also took a warm interest, and were admitted to aparticipation in, the councils we mention. To these proceedings Clintonhad not been long privy when he began to communicate with Vanston, who, on his part, extended the mystery to Chevydale, between whom and himselfseveral confidential interviews had already taken place. Having thrownout these hints to our readers, we beg them to accompany us once more tothe parlor of Clinton the gauger and his nephew. 

"So, uncle, now that you have been promoted to the Supervisorship, youabandon the farm; you abandon Ahadarra?"

"Why, won't I be out of the district, you blockhead? and you persist inrefusing it besides. "

"Most positively; but I always suspected that Fethertonge was ascoundrel, as his conduct in that very business with you was aproo--hem, ahem. "

"Go on, " said the uncle, coolly, "don't be ashamed, Harry; I was nearlyas great a scoundrel in that business as he was. I told you before thatI look upon the world as one great pigeon, which every man who can, without exposing, himself, is obliged to pluck. Now, in the matter ofthe farm, I only was about to pluck out a feather or two to put in myown nest--or yours, if you had stood it. "

"At any rate, uncle, I must admit that you are exceedingly candid. "

"No such thing, you fool; there is scarcely an atom of candor in mywhole composition--I mean to the world, whatever I may be to you. Candor, Harry, my boy, is a virtue which very few in this life, as itgoes, can afford to practice--at least I never could. "

"Well but, uncle, is it not a pity to see that honest family ruined anddriven out of the country by the villany of Burke on the one hand, and the deliberate fraud and corruption of Fethertonge, on theother. However, now that you are resolved to unmask Fethertonge, I amsatisfied. It's a proof that you don't wish to see an honest familyoppressed and turned, without reasonable compensation, out of theirproperty. "

"It's a proof of no such thing, I tell you. I don't care the devil hadthe M'Mahons; but I am bound to this ninnyhammer of a landlord, who hasgot me promoted, and who promises, besides, to get an appointment foryou. I cannot see him, I say, fleeced and plucked by this knavish agent, who winds him about his finger like a thread; and, as to those poorhonest devils of M'Mahons, stop just a moment and I will show you adocument that may be of some value to them. You see, Fethertonge, inorder to enhance the value of his generosity to myself, or, to comenearer the truth, the value of Ahadarra, was the means of placing adocument, which I will immediately show you, in my hands. "

He went to his office or study, and, after some search, returnedand handed the other a written promise of the leases of Ahadarra andCarriglass, respectively, to Thomas M'Mahon and his son Bryan, at acertain reasonable rent offered by each for their separate holdings. 

"Now, " he proceeded, "there's a document which proves Fethertonge, notwithstanding his knavery, to be an ass; otherwise he would havereduced it to ashes long ago; and, perhaps, after having turned it tohis account, he would have done so, were it not that I secured it. OldChevydale, it appears, not satisfied with giving his bare word, strove, the day before he died, to reduce his promise about the lease towriting, which he did, and entrusted it to the agent for the M'Mahons, to whom, of course, it was never given. "

"But what claim had you to it, uncle?"

"Simply, if he and I should ever come to a misunderstanding, that Imight let him know he was in my power, by exposing his straightforwardmethods of business; that's all. However, about the web that this fellowBurke has thrown around these unfortunate devils the M'Mahons, and thoseother mighty matters that you told of, let me hear exactly what it isall about and how they stand. You say there is likely to be hanging ortransportation among them. "

"Why, the circumstances, sir, are these, as nearly as I am in possessionof them:--There is or was, at least a day or two ago, a very prettygirl--"

"Ay, ay--no fear but there must be that in it; go along. "

"A very pretty girl, named Nanny Peety, a servant in old Jemmy Burke's, Hycy's father. It appears that his virtuous son Hycy tried all thevarious stratagems of which he is master to debauch the morals of thisgirl, but without success. Her virtue was incorruptible. "

"Ahem! get along, will you, and pass that over. "

"Well, I know that's another of your crotchets, uncle; but no matter, Ishould be sorry, from respect to my mother's memory, to agree with youthere: however to proceed; this Nanny Peety at length--that is about aweek ago--was obliged to disclose to her father the endless persecutionwhich she had to endure at the hands of Hycy Burke; and in addition tothat disclosure, came another, to the effect that she had been fora considerable period aware of a robbery which took place in oldBurke's--you may remember the stir it made--and which robbery wasperpetrated by Bat Hogan, one of these infamous tinkers that live inGerald Cavanagh's kiln, and under the protection of his family. Thegirl's father--who, by the way, is no other than the little blackvisaged mendicant who goes about the country--"

"I know him--proceed. "

"Her father, I say, on hearing these circumstances, naturally indignantat Hycy Burke for his attempts to corrupt the principles of hisdaughter, brought the latter with him to Father Magowan, in whosepresence she stated all she knew; adding, that she had secured BatHogan's hat and shoes, which, in his hurry, he had forgotten on thenight of the robbery. She also requested the priest to call upon me, 'as she felt certain, ' she said, 'in consequence of a letter of Burke'swhich I happened to see as she carried it to the post-office, that Icould throw some light upon his villany. He did so. ' It was on thataffair the priest called here the other day, and I very candidlydisclosed to him the history of that letter, and its effect in causingthe seizure of the distillery apparatus--the fact being that everythingwas got up by Hycy himself--I mean at his cost, with a view to ruinM'Mahon. And this I did the more readily, as the scoundrel has gone farto involve me in the conduct imputed to M'Mahon, as his secret abbettorand enemy. "

"Well, " observed his uncle, "all that's a very pretty affair as itstands; but what are you to do next?"

"There is worse behind, I can assure you, " continued his nephew. "HycyBurke, who is proverbially extravagant, having at last, in an indirectway, ruined young M'Mahon, from the double motive of ill-will and a wishto raise money by running illicit spirits--"

"The d--d scoundrel!" exclaimed the gauger, seized with a virtuousfit of (professional) indignation, "that fellow would scruple atnothing--proceed. "

"By the way, " observed the other, rather maliciously, "he made acomplete tool of you in M'Mahon's affair. "

"He did, the scoundrel, " replied his uncle, wincing a good deal;"but, as the matter was likely to turn up, he was only working out mypurposes. "

"He is in a bad mess now, however, " continued his nephew. 

"Why, is there worse to come?"

"This same Nanny Peety, you must know, is a relative, it seems, to BatHogan's wife. For some time past there has come a strange man namedVincent, and his wife, to reside in the neighborhood, and this fellow inconjunction with the Hogans, was managing some secret proceedings whichno one can penetrate. Now, it appears that Hogan's wife, who has beenkept out of this secret, got Nanny Peety to set her father to work inorder to discover it. Peety, by the advice of Hogan's wife, called inTeddy Phat's--"

"What's that? Teddy Phats? Now, by the way, Harry, don't abuse poorTeddy. You will be surprised, Hal, when I tell you that he and I haveplayed into each other's hands for years. Yes, my boy, and I can assureyou that, owing to him, both Fethertonge and I were aware of Hycy'sBurke's plot against M'Mahon long before he set it a-going. The fellow, however, will certainly be hanged yet. "

"Faith, sir, " replied Harry, "instead of being hanged himself, he'slikely to hang others. In consequence of an accidental conversationwhich Teddy Phats, and Finigan the tippling schoolmaster had, concerningVincent, the stranger I spoke of, who, it appears, lives next toFinigan's school-house, Teddy discovered, through the pedagogue, who, bythe way, is abroad at all hours, that the aforesaid Vincent was inthe habit of going up every night to the most solitary part of themountains, but for what purpose, except upon another distillationaffair, he could not say. "

The old gauger or supervisor, as he now considered himself, becamehere so comically excited--or, we should rather say, so seriouslyexcited--that it was with difficulty the nephew could restrain hislaughter. He moved as if his veins had been filled with quicksilver, his eyes brightened, and his naturally keen and knavish-looking featureswere sharpened, as it were, into an expression so acutely sinister, thathe resembled a staunch old hound who comes unexpectedly upon the freshslot of a hare. 

"Well, " said he, rubbing his hands--"well, go on--what happened? Do youhear, Harry? What happened? Of course they're at the distillation again. Don't you hear me, I say? What was the upshot?"

"Why, the upshot was, " replied the other, "that nothing of sufficientimportance has been discovered yet; but we have reason to suppose thatthey're engaged in the process of forgery or coining, as they were inthat of illicit distillation under the patronage of the virtuous HycyBurke, or Hycy the accomplished, as he calls himself. "

"Tut, tut!" exclaimed Clinton, disappointed--"so after all, there hasbeen nothing done?"

"Oh, yes, there has been something done; for instance, all thesematters have been laid before Mr. Vanston, and he has had two or threeinterviews with Chevydale, in whose estimation he has exonerated youngM'Mahon from the charge of bribery and ingratitude. Fethertonge holdssuch a position now with his employer that an infant's breath wouldalmost blow him out of his good opinion. "

"I'll tell you what, Harry, I think you have it in your power among youto punish these rogues; and I think, too, it's a pity that Fethertongeshould escape. A breath will dislodge him, you say; but for fear itshould not, we will give him a breeze. "

"I am to meet Vanston at Chevydale's by-and-by, uncle. There's to be aninvestigation there; and by the way, allow me to bring Hycy's anonymousletter with me--it may serve an honest man and help to punish a rogue. What if you would come down with me, and give him the breeze?"

"Well, " replied the uncle, "for the novelty of the thing I don't care ifI do. I like, after all, to see a rogue punished, especially when he isnot prepared for it. "

After a little delay they repaired to Chevydale's house, armed withHycy's anonymous letter to Clinton, as well as with the document whichthe old squire, as he was called, had left for Thomas M'Mahon and hisson. They found the two gentlemen on much better terms than one wouldhave expected; but, in reality, the state of the country was such asforced them to open their eyes not merely to the folly of harboring merepolitical resentments or senseless party prejudices against each other, but to the absolute necessity that existed for looking closely into thestate of their property, and the deplorable condition to which, ifthey did not take judicious and decisive steps, it must eventually bereduced. They now began to discover a fact which they ought, long since, to have known--viz. :--that the condition of the people and that of theirproperty was one and the same--perfectly identical in all things; andthat a poor tenantry never yet existed upon a thriving or independentestate, or one that was beneficial to the landlord. 

Vanston had been with his late opponent for some time before the arrivalof Clinton and his nephew; and, as their conversation may not, perhaps, be without some interest to our readers, we shall detail a portion ofit. 

"So, " says Vanston, "you are beginning to feel that there is somethingwrong on your property, and that your agent is not doing you justice?"

"I have reason to suspect, " replied Chevydale, "that he is neither morenor less than feathering his own nest at the expense of myself and mytenantry. I cannot understand why he is so anxious to get the M'Mahonsoff the estate; a family unquestionably of great honesty, truth, andintegrity, and who, I believe, have been on the property before itcame into our possession at all. I feel--excuse me, Vanston, for theadmission, but upon my honor it is truth--I feel, I say, that, in thematter of the election--that is, so far as M'Mahon was concerned, he--myagent--made a cat's paw of me. He prevented me from supporting youngM'Mahon's memorial; he--he--prejudiced me against the family in severalways, and now, that I am acquainted with the circumstances of strong andjust indignation against me under which M'Mahon voted, I can't at allblame him. I would have done the same thing myself. "

"There is d----d villany somewhere at work, " replied Vanston. "They talkof a fifty-pound note that I am said to have sent to him by post. Now, Ipledge my honor as an honest man and a gentleman, that I have sifted andexamined all my agents, and am satisfied that he never received a pennyfrom me. Young Burke did certainly promise to secure me his vote; but Ihave discovered Burke to be a most unprincipled profligate, corrupt anddishonest. For, you may think it strange that, although he engaged toprocure me M'Mahon's vote, M'Mahon himself, whom I believe, assured methat he never even asked him for it, until after he had overheard, inthe head inn, a conversation concerning himself that filled him withbitter resentment against you and your agent. "

"I remember it, " replied Chevydale, "and; yet my agents told me thatBurke did everything in his power to prevent M'Mahon from voting foryou. "

"That, " replied the other, "was to preserve his own character from thecharge of inconsistency; for, I again assure you that he had promised usM'Mahon's vote, and that he urged him privately to vote against you. Butd--n the scoundrel, he is not worth the conversation we had about him. Father Magowan, in consequence of whose note to me I wrote to ask youhere, states in the communication I had from him, that the parties willbe here about twelve o'clock--Burke himself, he thinks, and M'Mahonalong with the rest. The priest wishes to have these Hogans driven outof the parish--a wish in which I most cordially join him. I hope weshall soon rid the country of him and his villanous associates. Talkingof the country, what is to be done?"

"Simply, " replied Chevydale, "that we, the landed proprietors ofIreland, should awake out of our slumbers, and forgetting those vilecauses of division and subdivision that have hitherto not only disunitedus, but set us together by the ears, we should take counsel amongourselves, and after due and serious deliberation, come to thedetermination that it is our duty to prevent Irish interests from beingmade subservient to English interests, and from being legislated forupon English principles. "

"I hope, Chevydale, you are not about to become a Repealer. "

"No, sir; I am, and ever have been sickened by that great imposture. Another half century would scarcely make us fit for home legislation. When we look at the conduct of our Irish members in the BritishParliament--I allude now, with few exceptions, to the Repealmembers--what hope can we entertain of honesty and love of country fromsuch men? When we look, too, at many of our Corporations and strike anaverage of their honesty and intellect, have we not a right to thank Godthat the interests of our country are not confided to the management ofsuch an arrogant, corrupt, and vulgar crew as in general compose them. The truth is, Vanston, we must become national in our own defense, andwhilst we repudiate, with a firm conviction of the folly on the onehand, and the dishonesty on the other, of those who talk about Repeal, we shall find it our best policy to forget the interests of anyparticular class, and suffer ourselves to melt down into one greatprinciple of national love and good-will toward each other. Let us onlybecome unanimous, and England will respect us as she did when we wereunanimous upon other occasions. "

"I feel, and am perfectly sensible of the truth of what you say, "replied Vanston, "and I am certain that, in mere self-defence, we mustidentify ourselves with the people whose interests most unquestionablyare ours. "

"As to myself, " continued Chevydale, "I fear I have much to repair inmy conduct as an Irish landlord. I have been too confiding and easy--infact, I have not thought for myself; but been merely good or evil, according to the caprice of the man who managed me, and whom, up untilnow, I did not suspect. "

"The man, my good friend, is probably not worse in general than others, "replied Vanston; "but the truth is, that there has been such a laxityof management in Irish property--such indifference and neglect upon ourpart, and such gross ignorance of our duties, that agents were, and inmost cases are, at liberty to act as they please in our names, and undershow of our authority; you can scarcely suppose this man, consequently, much worse than others who are placed in similar circumstances. "

The dialogue was here interrupted by the entrance of old Clinton and hisnephew; but, as our readers are already in possession of the proofs theybrought against Hycy Burke and Fethertonge, it is not necessary that weshould detail there conversation at full length. 

"I must confess, " said Clinton, "that I would have some reason to feelashamed of my part in the transactions with respect to Ahadarra, were itnot, in the first place, that I have never been much afflicted with thecommodity; and, in the next, that these transactions are too common toexcite any feeling one way or the other. "

"But you must have known, Clinton, " said Chevydale, "that it was a mostiniquitous thing in you to enter into a corrupt bargain with a dishonestagent for the property which you knew to belong to another man. "

"What other man, Mr. Chevydale? Had not M'Mahon's lease expired?"

"But had you not in your own possession my father's writtenpromise--written, too, on his death-bed--to these honest men, that theyshould have their leases renewed?"

"Yes, but that was your agent's affair, and his dishonesty, too, notmine. "

"As much yours as his; and, by the way, I don't see upon what principleyou, who are equally involved with him in the profligacy of thetransaction, should come to bear testimony against him now. They saythere is honor among thieves, but I see very little of it here. "

"Faith, to tell you the truth, " replied Clinton, "as I said to Harryhere, because _I like to see a rogue punished, especially when he is notprepared for it_. "

"Well, " said Chevydale, with a very solemn ironical smile, "I am myselfvery much of your way of thinking; and, as a proof of it, I beg to saythat, as your appointment to the office of Supervisor has not yet beenmade out, I shall write to my brother, the Commissioner, to takecare that it never shall. To procure the promotion of a man who candeliberately avow his participation in such shameless profligacy wouldbe to identify myself with it. You have been doubly treacherous, Mr. Clinton; first to me, whom you know to be your friend, and, in the nextplace, to the unfortunate partner in your villany, and at my expense;for d----d if I can call it less. What noise is that?"

Clinton the elder here withdrew, and had scarcely disappeared when twovoices were heard in the hall, in a kind of clamorous remonstrance witheach other, which voices were those of Father Magowan and our friendO'Finigan, as we must now call him, inasmuch as he is, although early inthe day, expanded with that hereditary sense of dignity which will notallow the great O to be suppressed. 

"Behave, and keep quiet, now, " said his Reverence, "you unfortunatepedagogue you; I tell you that you are inebriated. "

"Pardon me, your Reverence, " replied O'Finigan; "_non ebrius sed vinogravatus_, devil a thing more. "

"Get out, you profligate, " replied the priest, "don't you know thateither, at this time o' day, is too bad?"

"_Nego, dominie--nego, Dominie revendre_--denial is my principle, I say. Do you assert that there's no difference between _ebrius_ and _gravatusvino_?"

"In your case, you reprobate, I do. Where would you get the vino?However, " he proceeded, "as you are seldom sober, and as I know it ispossible you may have something of importance to say on a particularsubject, I suppose you may as well say it now as any other time, andit's likely we may get more truth out of you. "

"Ay, " said the schoolmaster, "upon the principle that _in vino veritas_;but you know that _gravatus vino_ and _ebrius_ are two differentthings--_gravatus vino_, the juice o' the grape--och, och, as every oneknows, could and stupid; but _ebrius_ from blessed poteen, that warmsand gives ecstatic nutrition to the heart. "

The altercation proceeded for a little, but, after a short remonstranceand bustle, the priest, followed by O'Finigan, entered the room. 

"Gentlemen, " said the priest, "I trust you will excuse me for thesociety in which I happen to appear before you; but the truth is thatthis Finigan--"

"Pardon me, your Reverence, O'Finigan if you plaise; we have been shornof--"

"Well, then, since he will have it so, this O'Finigan is reallyinebriated, and I cannot exactly say why, in this state, his presencecan be of any advantage to us. "

"He says, " replied the master, "that I am _ebrius_, whereas I repliedthat I was only _vino gravatus_, by which I only meant _quasi vinogravatus_; but the truth is, gentlemen, that I'm never properly soberuntil I'm half seas over--for it is then that I have all my witsproperly about me. "

"In fact, gentleman, " proceeded the priest, "in consequence of certaindisclosures that have reached me with reference to these Hogans, Ideemed it my duty to bring Nanny Peety before Mr. Chevydale here. Sheis accompanied by Kate Hogan, the wife of one of these ruffians, whorefuses to be separated from her--and insists, consequently, on comingalong with her. I don't exactly know what her motive may be in this; butI am certain she has a motive. It is a gratification to me, however, tofind, gentlemen, that you both happen to be present upon this occasion. I sent word to Hycy Burke and to Bryan M'Mahon; for I thought it onlyfair that Hycy should be present, in order to clear himself in case anycharge may be brought against him. I expect M'Mahon, too. "

"Let us remove, then, to my office, " said, Chevydale--"it is now a fewminutes past twelve, and I dare say they will soon be here. "

They accordingly did so; and, as he had said, the parties almostimmediately made their appearance. 

"Now, gentlemen, " said Father Magowan, "I am of opinion that the bestway is for this girl to state what she knows concerning these Hogans;but I think I can now persave the raison why Kate Hogan has made it apoint to come with her. It is quite evident from her manner that shewishes to intimidate this girl, and to prevent her from stating fullyand truly what she knows. "

"No, " replied Kate, "it is no such thing--she must either state thewhole truth or nothing; that's what I want, an' what she must do--putthe saddle on the right horse, Nanny--since you will spake. "

"It is a good proverbial illustration, " observed Finigan, "but I willimprove it--put the saddle of infamy, I say, upon the right horse, Nanny. You see, gintlemen, " he added, turning to the magistrates, "myimprovement elevates the metaphor--proceed, girsha. "

"Gentlemen, " said Hycy, "I received a note from Father Magowan informingme that it was probable certain charges might be brought against me--orat least some complaints made, " he added, softening the expression--"andI should be glad to know what they are all about, before this girlcommences formally to state them; I say so in order that I may not betaken by surprise. "

"You know, " replied the priest, "that you cannot be taken by surprise;because I myself told you the substance of the strong suspicions thatare against you. "

Bryan M'Mahon now entered, and was cordially greeted by Vanston--and wemay add rather kindly, in manner at least, by Chevydale. 

"By the way, " asked the former of these gentlemen, "does thisinvestigation bear in any way upon your interests, M'Mahon?"

"Not, sir, so far as I am aware of--I come here because Father Magowanwished me to come. I have no interests connected with this countrynow, " he added in a tone of deep melancholy, "there's an end to that forever. "

"Now, my good girl, " said Chevydale, "you will state all you knowconnected with these Hogans fully and truly--that is, neither more norless than the truth. "

"All the truth, Nanny, " said Kate Hogan, in a voice of stronglycondensed power; "Hycy Burke, " she proceeded, "you ruined BryanM'Mahon here--and, by ruinin' him, you broke Miss Kathleen Cavanagh'sheart--she's gone--no docthor could save her now; and for this you'llsoon know what Kate Hogan can do. Go on, Nanny. "

"Well, gintlemon, " Nanny began, "in the first place it was Mr. Hycy herethat got the Still up in Ahadarra, in ordher to beggar Bryan M'Mahon bythe fine. "

Hycy laughed. "Excellent!" said he; "Why, really, Mr. Chevydale, I didnot imagine that you could suffer such a farce as this is likely to turnout to be enacted exactly in your office. "

"Enacted! well, that's, appropriate at any rate, " said the schoolmaster;"but in the mane time, Mr. Hycy, take care that the farce won't becomea tragedy on your hands, and you yourself the hero of it. Proceed, girsha. "

"How do you know, " asked Chevydale, "that this charge is true?"

"If I don't know it, " she replied, "my aunt here does, --and I think sodoes Mr. Harry Clinton an' others. "

"Pray, my woman, what do you know about this matter?" asked Chevydale, addressing Kate. 

"Why that it was Mr. Hycy Burke that gave the Hogans the money to makethe Still, set it up--and to Teddy Phats to buy barley; and although hedidn't tell them it was to ruin Bryan M'Mahon he did it, sure they allknew it was--'spishly when he made them change from Glendearg above, where they were far safer, down to Ahadarra. "

"I assure you, gentlemen, " said Hycy, "that the respectability of thewitnesses you have fished up is highly creditable to your judgmentsand sense of justice;--a common vagabond and notorious thief on the onehand, and a beggarman's brat on the other. However, proceed--I perceivethat I shall be obliged to sink under the force of such testimony--ha!ha! ha!"

At this moment old Jemmy Burke, having accidentally heard that morningthat such an investigation was to take place, and likely to bear uponthe conduct of his eldest son, resolved to be present at it, and heaccordingly presented himself as Hycy had concluded his observations. 

The high integrity of his character was at once recognized--he wasaddressed in terms exceedingly respectful, if not deferential, bythe two magistrates--Chevydale having at once ordered the servant inattendance to hand him a chair. He thanked him, however, but declined itgratefully, and stood like the rest. 

In the meantime the investigation proceeded. "Mr. Burke, " saidChevydale, addressing himself to the old man, whose features, by theway, were full of sorrow and distress--"it may be as well to state toyou that we are not sitting now formally in our magisterial capacity, toinvestigate any charges that may be brought against your son, but simplymaking some preliminary inquiries with respect to other charges, whichwe have been given to understand are about to be brought against thenotorious Hogans. "

"Don't lay the blame upon the Hogans, " replied Kate, fiercely--"theHogans, bad as people say they are, only acted under Hycy Burke. It wasHycy Burke. "

"But, " said Chevydale, probably out of compassion for the old man, "youmust know we are not now investigating Mr. Burke's conduct. "

"Proceed, gintlemen, " said his father, firmly but sorrowfully; "I haveheard it said too often that he was at the bottom of the plot thatruined Bryan M'Mahon, or that wint near to ruin him; I wish to have thatwell sifted, gintlemen, and to know the truth. "

"I can swear, " continued Kate, "that it was him got up the whole plan, and gave them the money for it. I seen him in our house--or, to comenearer the truth, in Gerald Cavanagh's kiln, where we live--givin' themthe money. "

"As you are upon that subject, gentlemen, " observed Harry Clinton, "Ithink it due to the character of Bryan M'Mahon to state that I am in acapacity to prove that Hycy Burke was unquestionably at the bottom--or, in point of fact, the originator--of his calamities with reference tothe act of illicit distillation, and the fine which he would have beencalled on to pay, were it not that the Commissioners of Excise remittedit. "

"Thank you, Mr. Clinton, " replied Hycy; "I find I am not mistaken inyou--I think you are worthy of your accomplices"--and he pointed to Kateand Nanny as he spoke--"proceed. "

"We are passing, " observed Vanston, "from one to another ratherirregularly, I fear; don't you think we had better hear this girl fullyin the first place; but, my good girl, " he added, "you are to understandthat we are not here to investigate any charges against Mr. Hycy Burke, but against the Hogans. You will please then to confine your charges tothem. "

"But, " replied Nanny, "that's what I can't do, plase your honor, widoutbringin' in Hycy Burke too, bekaise himself an' the Hogans was joined ineverything. "

"I think, gintlemen, " said the priest, "the best plan is to let her tellher story in her own way. "

"Perhaps so, " said Chevydale; "proceed, young woman, and state fully andtruly whatever you have got to say. "

"Well, then, " she proceeded, "there's one thing I know--I know whorobbed Mr. Burke here;" and she pointed to the old man, who started. 

The magistrates also looked surprised. "How, " said Vanston, turning hiseyes keenly upon her, "you know of the robbery; and pray, how long haveyou known it?'"

"Ever since the night it was committed, plaise your honor. "

"What a probable story!" exclaimed Hycy; "and you kept it to yourself, like an honest girl as you are, until now!"

"Why, Mr. Burke, " said Vanston, quickly and rather sharply, "surely youcan have no motive in impugning her evidence upon that subject?"

Hycy bit his lip, for he instantly felt that he had overshot himself byalmost anticipating the charge, as if it were about to be made againsthimself;--"What I think improbable in it, " said Hycy, "is that sheshould, if in possession of the facts, keep them concealed so long. "

"Oh, never fear, Mr. Hycy, I'll soon make that plain enough, " shereplied. 

"But in the mean time, " said Chevydale, "will you state the names ofthose who did commit the robbery?"

"I will, " she replied. 

"The whole truth, Nanny, " exclaimed Kate. 

"It was Bat Hogan, then, that robbed Mr. Burke, " she replied;"and--and--"

"Out wid it, " said Kate. 

"And who besides, my good girl?" inquired Vanston. 

The young woman looked round with compassion upon Jemmy Burke, and thetears started to her eyes. "I pity him!" she exclaimed, "I pity him--thatgood old man;" and, as she uttered the words, she wept aloud. 

"This, I fear, is getting rather a serious affair, " said Vanston, in alow voice to Chevydale--"I see how the tide is likely to turn. "

Chevydale merely nodded, as if he also comprehended it. "You were aboutto add some other name?" said he; "in the mean time compose yourself andproceed. "

Hycy Burke's face at this moment had become white as a sheet; in fact, to any one of common penetration, guilt and a dread of the comingdisclosure were legible in every lineament of it. 

"Who was the other person you were about to mention?" asked Vanston. 

"His own son, sir, Mr. Hycy Burke, there. "

"Ha!" exclaimed Chevydale; "Mr. Hycy Burke, do you say? Mr. Burke, "he added, addressing that gentleman, "how is this? Here is a grave andserious charge against you. What have you to say to it?"

"That it would be both grave and serious, " replied Hycy, "if itpossessed but one simple element, without which all evidence isvalueless--I mean truth. All I can say is, that she might just as wellname either of yourselves, gentlemen, as me. "

"How do you know that Hogan committed the robbery?" asked Hycy. 

"Simply bekaise I seen him. He broke open the big chest above stairs. "

"How did you see him?" asked Vanston. 

"Through a hole in the partition, " she replied, "where a knot of thedeal boards had come out. I slep', plaise your honor, in a little closetoff o' the room the money was in. "

"Is it true that she slept there, Mr. Burke?" asked Vanston of the oldman. 

"It is thrue, sir, God help me; that at all events is thrue. "

"Well, proceed, " said Chevydale. 

"I then throw my gown about my shoulders; but in risin' from my bed itcreaked a little, an' Bat Hogan, who had jest let down the lid of thechest aisily when he hard the noise, blew out the bit of candle that hehad in his hand, and picked his way down stairs as aisily as he could. Ifolloyed him on my tippy-toes, an' when he came opposite the door ofthe room where the masther and misthress sleep, the door opened, an' themistress wid a candle in her hand met him full--but in the teeth. I wasabove upon the stairs at the time, but from the way an' the place shestood in, the light didn't rache me, so that I could see them widoutbein' seen myself. Well, when the mistress met him she was goin' to bawlout wid terror, an' would, too, only that Masther Hycy flew to her, puthis hand on her mouth, an' whispered something in her ear. He then wentover to Bat, and got a large shafe of bank-notes from him, an' motionedhim to be off wid himself, an' that he'd see him to-morrow. Bat wentdown in the dark, an' Hycy an' his mother had some conversation in alow voice on the lobby. She seemed angry, an' he was speakin' soft an'strivin' to put her into good humor again. I then dipt back to bed, butthe never a wink could I get till mornin'; an' when I went down, thefirst thing I saw was Bat Hogan's shoes. It was hardly light at thetime; but at any rate I hid them where they couldn't be got, an' it waswell I did, for the first thing I saw was Bat himself peering about thestreet and yard, like a man that was looking for something that he hadlost. "

"But how did you know that the shoes were Hogan's?" asked Vanston. 

"Why, your honor, any one that ever seen the man might know that. Oneof his heels is a trifle shorter than the other, which makes him halt alittle, an' he has a bunion as big as an egg on the other foot. "

"Ay, Nanny, " said Kate, "that's the truth; but I can tell you more, gentlemen. On the evenin' before, when Mr. Hycy came home, he made upthe plan to rob his father wid Phil Hogan; but Phil got drunk that nightan' Bat had to go in his place. Mr. Hycy promised to see the Hogans thatmornin' at his father's, about ten o'clock; but when they went he hadgone off to Ballymacan; an' as they expected him every minute, theystayed about the place in spite o' the family, an' mended everythingthey could lay their hands on. Bat an' Mr. Hycy met that night in TeddyPhat's still-house, in Glendearg, an' went home together across themountains aftherward. "

"Well, Mr. Burke, what have you to say to this?" asked Chevydale. 

"Why, " replied Hycy, "that it's a very respectable conspiracy as itstands, supported by the thief and vagabond, and the beggar's brat. "

"Was there any investigation at the time of its occurrence?" askedVanston. 

"There was, your honor, " replied Nanny; "it was proved, clearly enoughthat Phil and Ned Hogan were both dead drunk that night an' couldn'tcommit a robbery; an' Masther Hycy himself said that he knew how Batspent the night, an' that of course he couldn't do it; an' you know, your honors, there was no gettin' over that. I have, or rather my fatherhas, Bat Hogan's shoes still. "

"This, I repeat, seems a very serious charge, Mr. Burke, " said Chevydaleagain. 

"Which, as I said before, contains not one particle of truth, " repliedHycy. "If I had resolved to break open my father's chest to get cash outof it, it is not likely that I would call in the aid of such a manas Bat Hogan. As a proof that I had nothing to do with the robbery inquestion, I can satisfy you that my mother, not many days after theoccurrence of it, was obliged to get her car and drive some three orfour miles' distance to borrow a hundred pounds for me from a friend ofhers, upon her own responsibility, which, had I committed the outrage inquestion, I would not have required at all. "

Old Burke's face would, at this period of the proceedings, have extortedcompassion from any heart. Sorrow, distress, agony of spirit, and shame, were all so legible in his pale features--that those who were presentkept their eyes averted, from respect to the man, and from sympathy withhis sufferings. 

At length he himself came forward, and, after wiping away a few bittertears from his cheeks, he said--"Gentlemen, I care little about themoney I lost, nor about who took it--let it go--as for me, I won't missit; but there is one thing that cuts me to the heart--I'm spakin' aboutthe misfortune that was brought, or near bein' brought, upon this honestan' generous-hearted young man, Bryan M'Mahon, through manes of a blackplot that was got up against him--I'm spakin' of the Still that wasfound on his farm of Ahadarra. That, if my son had act or part in it, isa thousand times worse than the other; as for the takin' of the money, I don't care about it, as I said--nor I won't prosecute any one for it;but I must have my mind satisfied about the other affair. "

It is not our intention to dwell at any length upon the clear proofs ofhis treachery and deceit, which were established against him by HarryClinton, who produced the anonymous letter to his uncle--brought home tohim as it was by his own evidence and that of Nanny Peety. 

"There is, however, " said Vanston, "another circumstance affecting thereputation and honesty of Mr. Bryan M'Mahon, which in your presence, Mr. M'Gowan, I am anxious to set at rest. I have already contradicted itwith indignation wherever I have heard it, and I am the more anxiousto do so, now, whilst M'Mahon and Burke are present, and because I havebeen given to understand that you denounced him--M'Mahon--with suchhostility from the altar, as almost occasioned him to be put to death inthe house of God. "

"You are undher a mistake there, Major Vanston, with great respect, "replied the priest. "It wasn't I but my senior curate, Father M'Pepper;and he has already been reprimanded by his Bishop. "

"Well, " replied the other, "I am glad to hear it. However, I, nowsolemnly declare, as an honest man and an Irish, gentleman, that neitherI, nor any one for me, with my knowledge, ever gave or sent any money toBryan M'Mahon; but perhaps we may ascertain who did. M'Mahon, have yougot the letter about you?"

"I have, sir, " replied Bryan, "and the bank-note, too. "

"You will find the frank and address both in your own handwriting, " saidHycy. "It was I brought him the letter from the post-office. "

"Show me the letter, if you plaise, " said Nanny, who, after lookingfirst at it and then at Hycy, added, "and it was I gave it this littletear near the corner, and dhrew three scrapes of a pin across the paper, an' there they are yet; an' now I can take my oath that it was Mr. Hycythat sent that letther to Bryan M'Mahon--an' your Reverence is the veryman I showed it to, and that tould me who it was goin' to, in the streetof Ballymacan. "'

On a close inspection of the letter it was clearly obvious that, although there appeared at a cursory glance a strong resemblance betweenthe frank and the address, yet the difference was too plain to bemistaken. 

"If there is further evidence necessary, " said Vanston, looking at Hycysignificantly, "my agent can produce it--and he is now in the house. "

"I think you would not venture on that, " replied Hycy. 

"Don't be too sure of that, " said the other, determinedly. 

"Sir, " replied Father Magowan, "there is nothing further on that pointnecessary--the proof is plain and clear; and now, Bryan M'Mahon, giveme your hand, for it is that of an honest man--I am proud to see thatyou stand pure and unsullied again; and it shall be my duty to see thatjustice shall be rendered! you, and ample compensation made for all thatyou have suffered. "

"Thank you, sir, " replied Bryan, with an air of deep dejection, "but Iam sorry to say it is now too late--I am done with the country, and withthose that misrepresented me, for ever. "

Chevydale looked at him with deep attention for a moment, then whisperedsomething to Vanston, who smiled, and nodded his head approvingly. 

Jemmy Burke now prepared to go. "Good mornin', gintlemen, " he said, "Iam glad to see the honest name cleared and set right, as it ought to be;but as for myself, I lave you wid a heavy--wid a breakin' heart. "

As he disappeared at the door, Hycy rushed after him, exclaiming, "Father, listen to me--don't go yet till you hear my defence. I will goand fetch him back, " he exclaimed--"he must hear what I have to say formyself. "

He overtook his father at the bottom of the hall steps. "Give me ahundred pounds, " said he, "and you will never see my face again. "

"There is two hundre', " said his father; "I expected this. Your motherconfessed all to me this mornin', bekaise she knew it would come outhere, I suppose. Go now, for undher my roof you'll never come again. Ifyou can--reform your life--an' live at all events, as if there was a Godabove you. Before you go answer me;--what made you bring in Bat Hoganto rob me?"

"Simply, " replied his son, "because I wished to make him and them feelthat I had them in my power--and now you have it. "

[Illustration: PAGE 635-- Hycy received the money, set spurs to his horse]

Hycy received the money, set spurs to his horse, and was out of sight ina moment--"Ah!" exclaimed the old man, with bitterness of soul, "whatmightn't he be if his weak and foolish mother hadn't taken it into herhead to make a gentleman of him! But now she reaps as she sowed. She'spunished--an' that's enough. "--And thus does Hycy the accomplished makehis exit from our humble stage. 

"Gintlemen, " said Finigan, "now that the accomplished Mr. Hycy isdisposed of, I beg to state, that it will be productive of much publicgood to the country to expatriate these three virtuous worthies, _quinomine gaudent_ Hogan--and the more so as it can be done on clear legalgrounds. They are a principal means of driving this respectable youngman, Bryan M'Mahon, and his father's family, out of the land of theirbirth; and there will be something extremely appropriate--and indicativebesides of condign and retributive punishment--in sending them on theirtravels at his Majesty's expense. I am here, in connection with others, to furnish you with the necessary proof against them; and I am ofopinion that the sooner they are sent upon a voyage of discovery it willbe so much the better for the rejoicing neighborhood they will leavebehind them. "

The hint was immediately taken with respect to them and Vincent, allof whom had been engaged in coming under Hycy's auspices--they wereapprehended and imprisoned, the chief evidence against them being TeddyPhats, Peety Dhu, and Finigan, who for once became a stag, as he calledit. They were indicted for a capital felony; but the prosecution havingbeen postponed for want of sufficient evidence, they were kept indurance until next assizes;--having found it impossible to procure bail. In the meantime new charges of uttering base coin came thick and strongagainst them; and as the Crown lawyers found that they could not succeedon the capital indictment--nor indeed did they wish to do so--theytried them on the lighter one, and succeeded in getting sentence oftransportation passed against every one of them, with the exception ofKate Hogan alone. --So that, as Finigan afterwards said, "instead of BryanM'Mahon, it was they themselves that became 'the Emigrants of Ahadarra, 'at the king's expense--and Mr. Hycy at his own. "

CHAPTER XXVII. --Conclusion. 

How Kathleen Cavanagh spent the time that elapsed between the periodat which she last appeared to our readers and the present may be easilygathered from what we are about to write. We have said already that herfather, upon the strength of some expressions uttered in a spirit ofdistraction and agony, assured Jemmy Burke that she had consented tomarry his son Edward, after a given period. Honest Jemmy, however, neverfor a moment suspected the nature of the basis upon which his worthyneighbor had erected the superstructure of his narrative; but atthe same time he felt sadly puzzled by the melancholy and decliningappearance of her whom he looked upon as his future daughter-in-law. Thetruth was that scarcely any of her acquaintances could recognize her asthe same majestic, tall, and beautiful girl whom they had known beforethis heavy disappointment had come on her. Her exquisite figure had lostmost of its roundness, her eye no longer flashed--with its dark mellowlustre, and her cheek--her damask cheek--distress and despair had fedupon it, until little remained there but the hue of death itself. Herhealth in fact was evidently beginning to go. Her appetite had abandonedher; she slept little, and that little was restless and unrefreshing. All her family, with the exception of her father and mother, whosustained themselves with the silly ambition of their daughter beingable to keep her jaunting-car--for her father had made that point a_sine qua non_--all, we say, with the above exceptions, became seriouslyalarmed at the state of her mind and health. 

"Kathleen, dear, " said her affectionate sister, "I think you havecarried your feelings against Bryan far enough. "

"My feelings against Bryan!" she exclamed. 

"Yes, " proceeded her sister, "I think you ought to forgive him. "

"Ah, Hanna darling, how little you know of your sister's heart. I havelong since forgiven him, Hanna. "

"Then what's to prevent you from making up with him?"

"I have long since forgiven him, Hanna; but, my dear sister, I never cannor will think for a moment of marrying any man that has failed, whenbrought to the trial, in honest and steadfast principal--the man thatwould call me wife should be upright, pure, and free from every stain ofcorruption--he must have no disgrace or dishonor upon his name, and hemust feel the love of his religion and his country as the great rulingprinciples of his life. I have long since forgiven Bryan, but it isbecause he is not what I hoped he was, and what I wished him to be, thatI am as you see me. "

"Then you do intend to marry?" asked Hanna, with a smile. 

"Why do you ask that, Hanna?"

"Why, because you've given me sich a fine description of the kind o' manyour husband is to be. "

"Hanna, " she replied, solemnly, "look at my cheek, look at my eye, lookat my whole figure, and then ask me that question again if you can. Don't you see, darling, that death is upon me? I feel it. "

Her loving and beloved sister threw her arms around her neck, and burstinto an irrepressible fit of bitter grief. 

"Oh, you are changed, most woefully, Kathleen, darlin', " she exclaimed, kissing her tenderly; "but if you could only bear up now, time would seteverything right, and bring you about right, as it will still, I hope. "

Her sister mused for some time, and then added--"I think I could bearup yet if he was to stay in the country; but when I recollect that he'sgoing to another land--forever--I feel that my heart is broken: as itis, his disgrace and that thought are both killin' me. To-morrow theauction comes on, and then he goes--after that I will never see him. I'mafraid, Hanna, that I'll have to go to bed; I feel that I'm hardly ableto sit up. "

Hanna once more pressed her to her heart and wept. 

"Don't cry, Hanna dear--don't cry for me; the bitterest part of my fatewill be partin' from you. "

Hanna here pressed her again and wept aloud, whilst her spotless andgreat-minded sister consoled her as well as she could. "Oh, what wouldbecome of me!" exclaimed Hanna, sobbing; "if anything was to happen you, or take you away from me, it would break my heart, too, and I'd die. "

"Hanna, " said her sister, not encouraging her to proceed any further onthat distressing subject; "on to-morrow, the time I allowed for Bryanto clear himself, if he could, will be up, and I have only to beg thatyou'll do all you can to prevent my father and mother from distressingme about Edward Burke; I will never marry him, but I expect to see himyour husband yet, and I think he's worthy of you--that's saying a greatdeal, I know. You love him, Hanna--I know it, and he loves you, Hanna, for he told me so the last day but one he was here;--you remember theyall went out, and left us together, and then he told me all. "

Hanna's face and neck became crimson, and she was about to reply, whena rather loud but good-humored voice was heard in the kitchen, for thisdialogue took place in the parlor--exclaiming, "God save all here! Howdo you do, Mrs. Cavanagh? How is Gerald and the youngsters?"

"Indeed all middlin' well, thank your reverence, barrin' our eldest girlthat's a little low spirited for some time past. "

"Ay, ay, I know the cause of that--it's no secret--where is she now? Ifshe's in the house let me see her. "

The two sisters having composed their dress a little and their features, immediately made their appearance. 

"God be good to us!" he exclaimed, "here's a change! Why, may I neversin, if I'd know her no more than the mother that bore her. Lord guardus! look at this! Do you give her nothing, Mrs. Cavanagh?"

"Nothing on airth, " she replied; "her complaint's upon the spirits, an'we didn't think that physic stuff would be of any use to her. "

"Well, perhaps I will find a cure for her. Listen to me, darling. Yoursweetheart's name and fame are cleared, and Bryan M'Mahon is what heever was--an honest an' upright young man. "

Kathleen started, looked around her, as if with amazement, and withoutseeming to know exactly what she did, went towards the door, andwas about to walk out, when Hanna, detaining her, asked withalarm--"Kathleen, what ails you, dear? Where are you going?"

"Going, " she replied; "I was going to--where?--why?--what--what hashappened?"

"The news came upon her too much by surprise, " said Hanna, lookingtowards the priest. 

"Kathleen, darlin', " exclaimed her mother, "try and compose yourself. Lord guard us, what can ail her?"

"Let her come with me into the parlor, mother, an' do you an' FatherMagowan stay where you are. "

They accordingly went in, and after about the space of ten minutes sherecovered herself so far as to make Hanna repeat the intelligence whichthe simple-hearted priest had, with so little preparation, communicated. Having listened to it earnestly, she laid her head upon Hanna's bosomand indulged in a long fit of quiet and joyful grief. When she hadrecovered a little, Father Magowan entered at more length into thecircumstances connected with the changes that had affected her lover'scharacter so deeply, after which he wound up by giving expression to thefollowing determination--a determination, by the way, which we earnestlyrecommend to all politicians of his profession. 

"As for my part, " said he, "it has opened my eyes to one thing thatI won't forget:--a single word of politics I shall never suffer tobe preached from the altar while I live; neither shall I allowdenouncements for political offences. The altar, as the bishop toldme--and a hard rap he gave Mr. M'Pepper across the knuckles for Bryan'saffair--'the altar, ' said he, 'isn't the place for politics, but forreligion; an' I hope I may never hear of its being desecrated withpolitics again, ' said his lordship, an' neither I will, I assure you. "

The intelligence of the unexpected change that had taken place in favorof the M'Mahon's, did not reach them on that day, which was the same, as we have stated, on which their grandfather departed this life. Therelief felt by Thomas M'Mahon and his family at this old man's death, took nothing from the sorrow which weighed them down so heavily inconsequence of their separation from the abode of their forefathersand the place of their birth. They knew, or at least they took it forgranted that their grandfather would never have borne the long voyageacross the Atlantic, a circumstance which distressed them very much. Hisdeath, however, exhibiting, as it did, the undying attachment to homewhich nothing else could extinguish, only kindled the same affectionmore strongly and tenderly in their hearts. The account of it had goneabroad through the neighborhood, and with it the intelligence that theauction would be postponed until that day week. And now that he wasgone, all their hearts turned with sorrow and sympathy to the deep andalmost agonizing' struggles which their coming departure caused theirfather to contend with. Bryan whose calm but manly firmness sustainedthem all, absolutely feared that his courage would fail him, or that hisvery health would break down. He also felt for his heroic little sister, Dora, who, although too resolute to complain or urge her own sufferings, did not endure the less on that account. 

"My dear Dora, " said he, after their grandfather had been laid out, "Iknow what you are suffering, but what can I do? This split betweenthe Cavanaghs and us has put it out of my power to serve you as I hadintended. It was my wish to see you and James Cavanagh married; but Godknows I pity you from my heart; for, my dear Dora, there's no use indenyin' it, I understand too well what you feel. "

"Don't fret for me, Bryan, " she replied; "I'm willin' to bear my shareof the affliction that has come upon the family, rather than do anythingmane or unworthy. I know it goes hard with me to give up James andlave him for ever; but then I see that it must be done, and that I mustsubmit to it. May God strengthen and enable me! and that's my earnestprayer. I also often prayed that you an' Kathleen might be reconciled;but I wasn't heard, it seems. I sometimes think that you ought to go toher; but then on second thoughts I can hardly advise you to do so. "

"No, Dora, I never will, dear; she ought to have heard me as you saidface to face; instead o' that she condemned me without a hearin'. An'yet, Dora, " he added, "little she knows--little she drames, what I'msufferin on her account, and how I love her--more now than ever, Ithink; she's so changed, they say, that you could scarcely know her. " Ashe spoke, a single tear fell upon Dora's hand which he held in his. 

"Come. Bryan, " she said, assuming a cheerfulness which she did not feel, "don't have it to say that little Dora, who ought and does look up toyou for support, must begin to support you herself; to-morrow's thelast day--who knows but she may relent yet?" Bryan smiled faintly, thenpatted her head, and said, "darling little Dora, the wealth of nationscouldn't purchase you. "

"Not to do any thing mane or wrong, at any rate, " she replied; afterwhich she went in to attend to the affairs of the family, for thisconversation took place in the garden. 

As evening approached, a deep gloom, the consequence of strong inwardsuffering, overspread the features and bearing of Thomas M'Mahon. Forsome time past, he had almost given himself over to the influence ofwhat he experienced--a fact that was observable in many ways, all moreor less tending to revive the affection which he felt for his departedwife. For instance, ever since their minds had been made up to emigrate, he had watched, and tended, and fed Bracky, her favorite cow, with hisown hands; nor would he suffer any one else in the family to go nearher, with the exception of Dora, by whom she had been milked ever sinceher mother's death, and to whom the poor animal had now transferred heraffection. He also cleaned and oiled her spinning-wheel, examined herclothes, and kept himself perpetually engaged in looking at every objectthat was calculated to bring her once more before his imagination. 

About a couple of hours before sunset, without saying where he wasgoing, he sauntered down to the graveyard of Gamdhu where she lay, andhaving first uncovered his head and offered up a prayer for the reposeof her soul, he wept bitterly. 

"Bridget, " said he, in that strong figurative language so frequentlyused by the Irish, when under the influence of deep, emotion; "Bridget, wife of my heart, you are removed from the thrials and throubles of thisworld--from the thrials and throubles that have come upon us. I'm come, now--your own husband--him that loved you beyant everything on thisearth, to tell you why the last wish o' my heart, which was to sleepwhere I ought to sleep, by your side, can't be granted to me, and toexplain to you why it is, in case you'd miss me from my place besideyou. This unfortunate counthry, Bridget, has changed, an' is changin'fast for the worse. The landlord hasn't proved himself to be towards uswhat he ought to be, and what we expected he would; an' so, rather thanremain at the terms he axes from us, it's better for us to thry ourfortune in America; bekaise, if we stay here, we must only come topoverty an' destitution, an' sorrow; an' you know how it 'ud break myheart to see our childre' brought to that, in the very place where theywor always respected. They're all good to me, as they ever wor to' usboth, acushla machree; but poor Bryan, that you loved so much--yourfavorite and your pride--has had much to suffer, darlin', since you leftus; but blessed be God, he bears it manfully and patiently, althoughI can see by the sorrow on my boy's brow that the heart widin him isbreakin'. He's not, afther all, to be married, as you hoped and wishedhe would, to Kathleen Cavanagh. Her mind has been poisoned against him;but little she knows him, or she'd not turn from him as she did. An'now, Bridget, asthore machree, is it come to this wid me? I must laveyou for ever. I must lave--as my father said, that went this day toheaven as you know, now--I must lave, as he said, the ould places. Imust go to a strange country, and sleep among a strange people; butit's for the sake of our childre' I do so, lavin' you alone there whereyou're sleepin'? I wouldn't lave you if I could help it; but we'llmeet yet in heaven, my blessed wife, where there won't be distress, orinjustice, or sorrow to part us. Achora machree, I'm come, then, to takemy last farewell of you. Farewell, then, my darlin' wife, till we meetfor evermore in heaven!"

He departed from the grave slowly, and returned in deep sorrow to hisown house. 

About twelve o'clock the next morning, the family and those neighborswho were assembled as usual at the wake-house, from respect to the dead, were a good deal surprised by the appearance of Mr. Vanston and theirlandlord, both of whom entered the house. 

"Gentlemen, you're welcome, " said old M'Mahon; "but I'm sorry to saythat it's to a house of grief and throuble I must welcome you--death'shere, gentlemen, and more than death; but God's will be done, we must beobaidient. "

"M'Mahon, " said Chevydale, "give me your hand. I am sorry that eitheryou or your son have suffered anything on my account. I am come now torender you an act of justice--to compensate both you and him, as faras I can, for the anxiety you have endured. Consider yourselvesboth, therefore, as restored to your farms at the terms you proposedoriginally. I shall have leases prepared--give up the notion ofemigration--the country cannot spare such men as you and your admirableson. I shall have leases I say prepared, and you will be under nonecessity of leaving either Carriglass or Ahadarra. "

Need we describe the effect which such a communication had upon thissterling-hearted family? Need we assure our readers that the weightwas removed from all their hearts, and the cloud from every brow? Is itnecessary to add that Bryan M'Mahon and his high-minded Kathleen weremarried? that Dora and James followed their example, and that EdwardBurke, in due time, bestowed his hand upon sweet and affectionate HannaCavanagh?

We have little now to add. Young Clinton, in the course of a fewmonths, became agent to Chevydale, whose property soon gave proofs thatkindness, good judgment, and upright principle were best calculated notonly to improve it, but to place a landlord and his tenantry on thatfooting of mutual good-will and reciprocal interest upon which theyshould ever stand towards each other. 

We need scarcely say that the sympathy felt for honest Jemmy Burke, inconsequence of the disgraceful conduct of his son, was deep and general. He himself did not recover it for a long period, and it was observedthat, in future, not one of his friends ever uttered Hycy's name in hispresence. 

With respect to that young gentleman's fate and that of Teddy Phats, we have to record a rather remarkable coincidence. In about three yearsafter his escape, his father received an account of his death fromMontreal, where it appears he expired under circumstances of greatwretchedness and destitution, after having led, during his residencethere, a most profligate and disgraceful life. Early the same dayon which the intelligence of his death reached his family, they alsoreceived an account through the M'Mahons to the effect that Teddy Phatshad, on the preceding night, fallen from one of the cliffs of Althadawanand broken his neck; a fate which occasioned neither surprise norsorrow. 

We have only to add that Bryan M'Mahon and his wife took Nanny Peetyinto their service; and that Kate Hogan and Mr. O'Finigan had always acomfortable seat at their hospitable hearth; and the latter a warm glassof punch occasionally, for the purpose, as he said himself, of keepinghim properly sober.