you touched upon, Mrs. Betty, and can't you make out your dinner without saying any thing?"

"A person may speak in this house, I suppose, besides the clergy, father Jos," said Mrs. Betty, under her breath.

Then looking out of the window, she added, "he's half-way over the lake, and he'll make his own apologies good, I'll engage, when he comes in; for he knows how to speak for himself as well as any gentleman-and I don't doubt but he'll get my Micky made an exciseman, as he promised to; and sure he has a good right-Isn't he a cousin of king Corny's? wherefore I'd wish to have all things proper. So I'll step out and kill a couple of chickens-won't I?”

"Kill what you please," said king Corny; "but without my warrant, nothing killed or unkilled shall come up to my table this day-and that's enough. No more reasoning-quit the subject and the room, Betty."

Betty quitted the room; but every stair, as she descended to the kitchen, could bear witness that she did not quit the subject; and for an hour afterwards, she reasoned against the obstinacy and folly of man, and the chorus in the kitchen moralized, in conformity and commiseration-in vain.

Meantime father Jos, though he regretted the exertions which Mrs. Betty might discreetly have made in favour of a good dinner, was by no means, as he declared, a friend or fauterer of sir Ulick O'Shane-how could he, when sir Ulick had recanted?—The priest looked with horror upon the apostasy-the king with contempt upon the desertion of his party. "Was he sincere any way, I'd honour him," said Cornelius, forgive him; but, not to be ripping up old griev

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or

ances when there's no occasion, I can't forgive the way he is at this present double-dealing with poor Harry Ormond-cajoling the grateful heart, and shirking the orphan boy that he took upon him to patronize. Why there I thought nobly of him, and forgave him all his sins, for the generous protection he afforded the son of his friend."

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Had captain Ormond, the father, no fortune?” asked the priest.

“Only a trifle of three hundred a year, and no provision for the education or maintenance of the boy. Ulick's fondness for him, more than all, showed him capable of the disinterested touch; but then to belie his own heart to abandon him he bred a favourite, just when the boy wants him most-Oh! how could he? And all for what? To please the wife he hates : that can't be—that's only the ostensible-but what the raal rason is I can't guess. No matter-he'll soon tell us."

"Tell us! Oh! no," said the priest, "he'll keep his own secret."

"He'll let it out, I'll engage, trying to hide it," said Corny: like all cunning people, he woodcockshides his head, and forgets his body can be seen. But hark! he is coming up. Tommy!" said he, turning to a little boy of five years old, Sheelah's grandchild, who was playing about in the room, "hand me that whistle you're whistling with, till I see what's the matter with it for you."

King Corny seemed lost in examination of the whistle when sir Ulick entered the room; and after receiving and seating him with proud courtesy, he again returned to the charge, blowing through the whistle, earnestly dividing his observation between

sir Ulick and little Tommy, and asking questions, by turns, about the whistle, and about all at Castle Hermitage.

"Where's my boy? Where's Harry Ormond?" was the first leading question sir Ulick asked.

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Harry Ormond's out shooting, I believe, somewhere or somehow, taking his pleasure, as I hope he will long, and always as long as he likes it, at the Black Islands; at least, as long as I live."

Sir Ulick branched off into hopes of his cousin Cornelius's living long, very long; and in general terms, that were intended to avoid committing himself, or pinning himself to any thing, he protested that he must not be robbed of his boy, that he had always, with good reason, been jealous of Harry's affection for king Corny, and that he could not consent to let his term of stay at the Black Islands be either as long as Harry himself should like, or during what he hoped would be the life of his cousin, Cornelius O'Shane.

when

"There's something wrong, still, in this whistle. Why, if you loved him so, did let him go you had him?” said Corny.

you

"He thought it necessary, for domestic reasons," replied sir Ulick.

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"Continental policy, that is; what I never understood, nor never shall," said Corny. But I don't inquire any farther. If you are satisfied with yourself, we are all satisfied, I believe."

"Pardon me, I cannot be satisfied without seeing Harry this morning, for I've a little business with him-will you have the goodness to send for him?”

Father Jos, who, from the window, saw Harry's dog snuffing along the path to the wood, thought he

could not be far from the house, and went to make inquiries; and now when sir Ulick and king Corny were left alone together, a dialogue-a sort of single combat, without any object but to try each other's powers and temper—ensued between them; in which the one on the offensive came on with a tomahawk, and the other stood on the defensive parrying with a polished blade of Damascus; and sometimes, when the adversary was off his guard, making a sly cut at an exposed part.

"A

"What are you so busy about?" said sir Ulick. "Mending the child's toy," said Cornelius. man must be doing something in this world.”

“ But a man of your ingenuity ! 'tis a pity it should be wasted, as I have often said, upon mere toys."

"Toys of one sort or other we are all taken up with through life, from the cradle to the grave. By the by, I give you joy of your baronetage. I hope they did not make you pay, now, too much in conscience for that poor tag of nobility.”

"These things are not always matters of bargain and sale-mine was quite an unsolicited honour, a mark of approbation and acceptance of my poor services, and as such, gratifying;-as to the rest, believe me, it was not, if I must use so coarse an expression, paid for."

"Not paid for-what, then, it's owing for? To be paid for, still? Well, that's too hard, after all you've done for them. But some men have no manner of conscience. At least, I hope you paid the fees." "The fees, of course- -but we shall never understand one another," said sir Ulick.

"Now what will be the next title or string you look forward to, Ulysses, may I ask? Is it to be

baron Castle Hermitage, or to get a ribbon, or a garter, or a thistle, or what?-A thistle! What asses some men are!"

What savages some men are, thought sir Ulick: he walked to the window, and looking out, hoped that Harry Ormond would soon make his appearance. "You are doing, or undoing, a great deal here, cousin Cornelius, I see, as usual."

"Yes, but what I am doing, stand or fall, will never be my undoing-I am no speculator. How do your silver mines go on, sir Ulick? I hear all the silver mines in Ireland turn out to be lead."

"for then we

"I wish they did," said sir Ulick, could turn all our lead to gold. Those silver mines certainly did not pay-I've a notion you found the same with your reclaimed bog here, cousin Cornelius -I understand that after a short time it relapses, and is worse than ever, like most things pretending to be reclaimed."

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Speak for yourself, there, sir Ulick," said Cornelius; " you ought to know certainly, for some thirty years ago, I think you pretended to be a reclaimed rake."

"I don't remember it," said sir Ulick.

"I do, and so would poor Emmy Annaly, if she was alive, which it's fortunate for her she is not (broken-hearted angel, if ever there was one, by wedlock! and the only one of the Annalys I ever liked)," said Cornelius to himself, in a low leisurely voice of soliloquy. Then resuming his conversation tone, and continuing his speech to sir Ulick, " I say you pretended thirty year ago, I remember, to be a reformed rake, and looked mighty smooth and plausible and promised fair that the improvement was solid, and was to last for ever and a day. But