Oh! how the ignorance of "furriners" was commented on in Manor Hamilton !

The next thing that excited the curiosity of Mr. Hoolagan was, that the stranger wanted a carriage to drive him over the O'Carrol estates. The only vehicle that could be procured was an Irish jaunting car. There was, to be sure, an old post-chaise in the yard of the Shamrock, but it had only three wheels, and a hen turkey was sitting on ten eggs in the straw at the bottom of it.

The jaunting car was drawn up to the inn door by a horse, we are bold enough to say, that could not be matched in any other country in the world but Ireland; his coat sticking out all manner of ways, and much in want of darning; a wall-eye, which he had doubtless got by staring at the bricks where the manger and rack ought to have been; buzzes were fixed to his apology for a mane and fetlocks; and he had a tail that resembled a Bologna sausage, which he kept wagging knowingly to frighten away the flies. The driver of this elegant equipage was one Tim O'Leary, with a face like a large red potatoe, and a wide mouth full of short white teeth, which mouth when opened, exhibited a greater width of gums than teeth; he had light blue eyes, and a carroty poll that had not been mown for the last two seasons-in fact, it looked as if it had been formerly burnt off to save the expense of cutting.

"Plaise yer honour, the carriage is at the door," said Mr. Hoolagan. The foreigner, wrapped in his ample cloak, on hearing "the carriage" announced, stepped from the portal, but made a sort of wincing start at the unpicturesque vehicle which was presented to his astonished eyes. He evidently did not quite understand how or whereabouts he was to sit, as he had never ridden sideways before in all his life. Mr. Hoolagan in an instant saw the dilemma, and stepping on the footboard and seating himself, said to the driver,

"Tim, you villain, when did you grease this off-wheel ?" Tim scratched his ear and replied,

"Faiks, the wheel's niver been off in my time."

Tim, on his fare being seated, cracked his whip several times before the horse thought of going on; and when he did move, he did it in true Irish fashion, by beginning first to back; but receiving three or four jerks in the mouth from the reins held in Tim's hands, and hearing a certain encouraging "checcuping," he set off at a loose shambling pace, while a parcel of ragged idle urchins, intimate friends of Mr. O'Leary, ran and pushed behind the car, until it was clean out of the town of Manor Hamilton.

As the foreigner rode along, he put many questions to the car-driver, relative to the lands and cattle that they passed, whether they belonged to the Manor Hamilton Hall estate; and Tim was in the position of Puss in Boots with the Marquis de Carabas, and had to reply that all he could see, and more too, was the property of the O'Carrols.

An open carriage approached, in which were seated an elderly lady and a lovely young woman in mourning. On the dickey of their carriage was perched Michael O'Shea, who in an instant recognised on the jaunting-car Signor Balthazar Valdarno. The man-of-law took no notice of O'Shea; but in passing, gazed earnestly at Henrietta O'Carrol; and the thought passed in his mind, "Cospetto di Bacco,

what a handsome likeness of her brother!" And by one of those extraordinary emotions to which human nature is subject, the crafty lawyer was struck to the heart by the placid charms of Henrietta. He inquired of his conductor if he knew the names of the ladies? Tim answered, "Shure it is her honour's glory, Lady O'Carrol, an' her darlin' daughter, Miss Henrietty, the pride of the whole country."

After Valdarno had, with avaricious eyes, surveyed the whole estate, and saw that there was more than sufficient security for his purposes, he returned to the inn. But he could not sleep that night, he was so enraptured with the lovely features of Miss O'Carrol: and he communed within himself whether it would be possible to gain her heart and hand as well as her lands; for be it said, he had no small idea of his own personal attractions and powers of pleasing, putting aside the tremendous argument in his favour-the will.

And now we must acquit Gabrielli of all share in this transaction; she had never seen this will, nor in her round of theatrical engagements and pleasures, had probably ever again thought of the events of the fatal evening, when Fitzgerald madly signed the paper; but Balthazar Valdarno held in his possession a general power of attorney to conduct the affairs of Gabrielli.

Balthazar took every opportunity he could to place himself so that he might obtain a sight of Henrietta-and at each time his passion for her increased amazingly. At length he determined to make a visit to Manor Hamilton Hall, through the intervention of Michael O'Shea ; so he sent the Neapolitan boy, Giacomelli Offuscamento, whom he had taken into his service on the death of Fitzgerald, and who had picked up a little English, to reconnoitre, and try to get a chance interview with O'Shea. This the lad soon effected, and Michael warmly shook his former fellow-servant by the hand, with "A welcome to ould Ireland, Jack O'Mally of Uscamiento. What brings you hither?"

Giacomelli told him that he had entered the service of Signor Valdarno, who had come over on business, and that he was sure that his master would be glad to see O'Shea, and invited him to accompany him to the Shamrock Hotel. On his arrival, the wily Balthazar received O'Shea with much civility, and contrived to place on the table, so as it would be certain to attract the eye of Michael, a framed portrait of Fitzgerald O'Carrol (which had been painted by a celebrated artist of Italy). It was a capital likeness, and had been entrusted to the rascally hands of Valdarno by Fitzgerald, in his imbecile and unpardonable vanity to find an opportunity of begging Gabrielli's acceptance of it. The lawyer kept it in his own possession, and for his own purposes-and this was the first use he made of it. On Michael O'Shea seeing the portrait, he burst into a whining sort of howl, exclaiming, while the tears rolled down his face,

"Och, my dear, my beautiful dead masther! why did you die? Ah aye! wouldn't my sweet mistresses like to behold this picture any how?" And the faithfully-attached servant and foster-brother dropped on his knees, and fervently kissed the portrait. Balthazar observing his extreme emotion, ordered Giacomelli to fetch from below some "licore." Michael O'Shea continued absorbedly gazing on the picture, till the welcome smell of a tumbler of Mr. Hoolagan's whisky suddenly restored him to comparative serenity.

The object of Valdarno was soon attained. Michael O'Shea being easily excited to return to the Hall, and inform Mrs. and Miss O'Carrol that a foreign friend of Fitzgerald's had arrived at Manor Hamilton with the picture of the deceased, which he was most anxious to present to his family. The strong feeling of affection that Michael had for his master, communicated itself painfully to the mother and sister, and opened their wounds afresh; but they sent a note requesting the favour of a call from Signor Balthazar Valdarno, and accordingly he waited on them and conducted himself so skilfully, that Mrs. O'Carrol looked upon him as a kind friend of her lost son.

Valdarno presented the picture on the frame of which he had fixed a moveable curtain of black silk; an emblem of mourning which reproduced the deepest feelings of grief upon the mother and Henrietta. The hypocrite, with great tact, begged permission to retire; and hoped to have the honour of calling on them on a future occasion.

On repeating his visit, he guardedly replied to the numerous questions put to him by Mrs. O'Carrol respecting Fitzgerald in fact, he told his story so plausibly, and described his connexion with his late friend so feelingly, that he was regarded with interest by both mother and sister; and having visited them as frequently as decency would permit, he returned to Dublin, after taking a respectful leave of them, -bidding adieu to Henrietta, however, in a manner that rather startled her.

About a week after this, Mr. Donovan came back, considerably more anxious in mind than when he left home. The poor old agent had seen the fatal will, and was thoroughly assured of its validity. And now the difficulty he felt was as to how he should break the intelligence to Mrs. O'Carrol.

But this wretched task he was compelled to perform. The old lady, though a woman of strong mind, was seized with a fainting fit at the dreadful news; and Henrietta insisted on knowing the cause, and by entreaties learnt the whole state of affairs from Mr. Donovan. Although horror-stricken, she had firmness enough to devise every means by which the dreadful demand might be met.

It has already been shown, that there were almost insurmountable difficulties in raising such a sum, in the then existing condition of Ireland.

The firm of Grasper and Co. had informed Mr. Donovan that their instructions were to bring the affair to a close as speedily as possible, and that no delay must occur. Counsel had been consulted as to the possibility of annulling this extraordinary testamentary document; but they had stated it had been drawn up too clearly, too cleverly; and finally, that there appeared but one of two things to do either to pay the forfeit, or deliver up THE BEQUEATHED HEART of Fitzgerald.

Had this affair happened in these times, when folks, perhaps, read and think more, and are less superstitious than they were at the period we are describing: the legal advisers of Mrs. O'Carrol might have endeavoured to persuade her to give up the cold and worthless heart. But it is notorious that the Irish people are more devoted to their deceased relations than the natives of any other country in the world (the

North American Indians, perhaps, excepted). The proposition to mutilate a body would have been considered impious, under the circum

stances.

Balthazar Valdarno remained in his hotel at Dublin all this time, very much in the capacity of a large spider in its web, awaiting the lucky moment when the fly should happen to be entangled in it.

Days, weeks, months, glided on, until Donovan was compelled to impart the distressing news to the lady of the manor, that the penalty, in the default of payment of the ten thousand pounds, was to be enforced; words cannot convey the extent of the mental anguish it produced on the mother and sister.

To add to this misery, a letter arrived from Italy, from the Irish captain, who had been the second of Fitzgerald O'Carrol, giving the whole minute particulars of the origin of the quarrel; and that it had all arisen from a remark made by one Signor Balthazar Valdarno, a notary of Naples as to the connexion between Gabrielli and Fitzgerald. This naturally aroused the indignation of Mrs. and Miss O'Carrol, that Signor Valdarno should have had the audacity to make his way to Manor Hamilton Hall; while, to add to their miseries, the next post brought a letter from Messrs. Grasper, McMurdo, and Tater, making an imperative demand of the legacy, and announcing that in the event of non-compliance, summary legal measures were to be expected. A correspondence passed between the parties, and poor old Donovan went once more to Dublin to have a final appointment with the law agent of Signora Gabrielli.

They met, and the surprise of Donovan must be imagined, when Balthazar Valdarno told him that a compromise might be made: that he would withdraw the claim altogether, if a party deeply interested would consent to the arrangement, in which his (Balthazar's) happiness was at stake. He then proceeded to inform Donovan that if Miss Henrietta would bestow her hand on him, he would undertake to forego all claims whatever under the last will and testament of the late Fitzgerald.

Shocked as he was at the proposition, Mr. Donovan was compelled to carry it to Manor Hamilton Hall. When it had been delivered, ineffable disdain marked the open brow of Henrietta; while Mrs. O'Carroll regarded the animated features of her insulted child with deep emotion.

Donovan respectfully, but hesitatingly inquired how this offer should

be answered.

"How to be answered, sir?" replied Henrietta. "As a deliberate insult from one who was the immediate cause of the murder of my loved brother, there is no further answer than scorn and contempt-bid the demon do his worst. Yet stay, Mr. Donovan, I will not more deeply implicate you in this wretched affair; I will write these words to Signor Valdarno, with my own hand."

The high-spirited girl instantly penned a few lines, which were despatched by that day's post.

When Balthazar read her indignant refusal, he was thunderstruck; he had imagined that his toils were admirably planned; and as we have elsewhere adverted to an overweening vanity in regard to his

person and address, he felt himself terribly humbled by the disdainful epistle.

Finding that all hope was crushed, his feeling of ardent admiration for Henrietta suddenly curdled into one of deadly hate: and on the instant he gave instructions to Messrs. Grasper and Co. to issue immediate proceedings. The howling wolves of the law were accordingly let loose, and an execution was to be enforced upon the Manor Hamilton Hall estate.

Donovan had, in his distress of mind, communicated to Michael O'Shea an outline of the unfortunate state of affairs, and of the promi nent part that he had taken by being a subscribing witness of the will. Honest Mike took an oath to himself, in penance, that "He niver would write his name, nor another line in the whole coorse of his existence," and he went down to the priest, and made a solemn asseveration against penmanship for the future.

The worthy pastor applauded his resolution and said, "I' faith, my penitent soul, you're well inclined: I never knew, in all my experience, any good whatsoever emanate from writing and reading, while your clargy to do all that for ye."

you have

On Donovan expressing his apprehensions that the officers of the law were coming to distrain on the estate of Manor Hamilton Hall, unless the heart of the late Fitzgerald O'Carrol should be given up to them, the eye of Michael O'Shea flashed fire. He abruptly left the room, made his way to the stable, saddled a horse, and gallopped round to all the tenants, rendering a wild story much more wild.

The farmers and peasantry quitted their work and held consultation with Mike O'Shea, as to the best mode of defending the Hall against the invasion of the "inimy;" and before the council of war was broken up, an opportunity occurred for commencing operations, for a postchaise brought Mr. Mc Murdo, with two sheriff's officers, within sight of the premises.

At a shout from O'Shea, his followers rushed forward, they stopped the horses and dismounted the driver. In a twinkling Mike O'Shea leapt into the saddle, rapidly pulling the heads of the steeds round, they retraced the road at a smart pace. Mc Murdo was taken by surprise, and endeavoured to open the front windows of the chaise; but they were of " rale" Irish make, and did not understand being "let down." Mc Murdo, in a fit of passion, and armed for travelling, fired a pistol through one of the glasses at O'Shea. From the jolting of the carriage in the rugged road, the aim was fruitless, and the report only served to alarm and hasten the movements of O'Shea's partisans.

Close to the place where they came to a halt, flowed the river Bonnet. The mob of peasantry surrounded the chaise, the women and children hanging on the wheels. Michael O'Shea dismounted, the horses were instantly unharnessed, and Mr. Mc Murdo, lowering a side window, fired a second pistol, which, however, only struck a shillelah out of a tall fellow's hand, as he was flourishing it, and the jarring it occasioned to his "funny-bone" stopped his capering. Finding Mc Murdo desperate, they one and all agreed to cool his courage, so they simultaneously dragged and pushed the chaise, with the infuriated attorney and the two sheriff's officers, down the declining bank, fairly into the river until it floated, and then was very nearly filled with