168 Antony in Egypt amidst his lascivious vassals, "Thou didst drink The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle -It is unnecessary to carry our hero as far as this, any more than to liken Clarges street and Mrs. Kean to Egypt and Cleopatra, but Kean's destitution was sufficiently frightful lights with all possible speed, and not to 'waste the midnight oil' for the gratification of their two spectators. Kean and Hughes therefore came forward, hand in hand, bowed in dumb show and retired. The whole of tomime; except that they afterwards (very reluctantly) the evening's performance was condensed into this panreturned their visiters the eighteen pence that lay at the bottom of the money-taker's box. That night, as parliamentary reporters say, there was no house."" This romance of starvation appears to have desperate efforts for a decent engagement. He been too much for Kean at last, and he made had lost several, we should mention, by his own outrageous profligacy of conduct. wrote to Edinburgh: he wrote to Mr. John Kemble, for "He wrote to Dublin, but received no answer: he a third line of business, and received no answer! He offered to teach fencing-to teach dancing: but no one would become his pupil. At last, Mr. Fisher engaged him to act for four nights at the Teignmouth Theatre, and laid the foundation of his fortunes." Teignmouth, was startled by his acting, and promised to interest himself with Grenfell and The accomplished Dr. Drury saw him first at Whitbread. The following scene which occurred shortly after at Dorchester, was the dawn of what followed :— "At York, as we have said, he arrived utterly destitute. So extreme was his need, that he wished to enlist as a common soldier, and actually presented himself, for that purpose, to an officer attached to a regiment at York, who very goodnaturedly dissuaded him from his design. He was, perhaps, as desperate of attaining the objects of his ambition, at this particular time, as at any period of his chequered life. And with his despair, his wife's despondency naturally kept pace. She saw no hope of extricating her infants from the load of misery and want which oppressed them. More than once, she has knelt down by the side of her bed, in which the two half-famished children lay, and prayed that they and herself might at once be released from their sufferings. Happily, they were relieved by the intervention of a he threw a large cloak over his theatrical attire, and friend. The wife of a Mr. Nokes (then a dancing mas- took his way gloomily to the play-house. He was to "One night, after having dressed for his part at home, ter at York), heard of their extreme distress, and went act Octavian in The Mountaineers,' and ‘a Savage' in with a heart brim full of benevolence to their aid. She some farce-Kankoo, it is believed, in Perouse.' Mrs. was shown up to the room where Mrs. Kean and the chil- Kean remained at home. She was employed, nursing dren were, and after having ascertained the report con- their sick child in the only little room they had, when cerning their condition, she spoke kindly to them all, about midnight she heard a quick step approaching the put something in Mrs. Kean's hand, wished her good door. Suddenly Kean himself entered: he was in a morning, and left the house. On her departure, Mrs. state of extreme agitation, and could scarcely speak. Kean opened the paper which this excellent woman had At last he made an effort and cried out, My fortune is left, and discovered that she had given her a five pound made! my fortune is made! His eye at that moment bank note! She threw herself on her knees, and falling fainted. They had been rescued from absolute starva-Let but Howard live,' said he, in a gentler voi tion. Mrs. Nokes's kindness did not stop here. She we shall all be happy yet.' To Mrs. Kean's inques as on his suffering child, he qualified his exultation interested her husband on behalf of her protégés; and to what had caused this tumult, he replied nearly to the he (who seems to have deserved such a wife) lent Kean following effect. [The events of this night had such a the room in which he received his pupils. An impedi- prodigious effect upon the fortunes of himself and his ment, indeed, was unexpectedly thrown in the way of family, that almost every particular (many of which this kind act, by Nokes's landlord (a person by the name would else have been, at this distance of time indistinct) of Flower, a clergyman), who said that no theatrical remains clear and unforgotten.] people should have the room;' but this was finally surmounted by the independent spirit of Nokes. He re-wretched house. A few people in the pit and gallery, solved that Kean should have the use of the room, and accordingly the tragedian had it, gave his recitations in it, and cleared 91. by his exertions." Hope sometimes whispered something, but it was always a flattering tale. The scene is Glou cester: "In this hungry season, when there was a failure of the general harvest, it occurred to the sufferers that something might still be forced, perhaps out of the usual course; at all events, it was necessary to make the experiment. Two of them therefore resolved to take a benefit: Kean and Jack Hughes were the adventurers. They put up, Cure for the Heartache' (a play implying hope, at least), and Kean was to enact Young Rapid. The bills were printed and distributed with more than ordinary diligence; the doors were unclosed, the lamps lighted, the curtain drawn up, when, behold!-in boxes, pit, and gallery, there appeared the staggering sum of one shilling and sixpence in hard cash! cil was held; and it was resolved to extinguish the A privy coun and three persons in the boxes, showed the quantity of "When the curtain drew up,' Kean began, 'I saw a attraction that we possessed. In the stage-box, howacting. He was very attentive to the performance. ever, there was a gentleman who appeared to understand Seeing this, I was determined to play my best. The strange man did not applaud; but his looks told me that room,' [this was under the stage] 'to change my dress he was pleased. After the play, I went to the dressfor the Savage,' so that I could hear every word that was said over head. I heard a gentleman (who I supposed was the gentleman of the stage-box) ask Lee the name of the performer who played the principal character. Oh!' answered Lee, his name is Kean-a wonderful clever fellow; a great little man. He's going to London. He has got an engagement from Mr. Whitbread ;-a great man, sir.' Indeed!' replied the gentleman, I am glad to hear it. He is certainly very clever; but he is very small.' large: no matter for his height,' returned Lee to this. 'His mind is fore mounted up to the stage. The gentlemen bowed to By this time I was dressed for the 'Savage,' and I there ་ see you. My name is Arnold; I am the-Manager of Drury lane Theatre.' I staggered as if I had been shot. My acting in the Savage' was done for. However, I stumbled through the part, and-here I am.'" me, and complimented me slightly upon my play, ob- grace his entrance into the metropolis. Elliston, as the serving, 'Your manager says you are engaged for Lon-principal person of the company, led the procession. don?" I am offered a trial,' said I, and if I succeed, The actors followed, according to rank, and at due time I understand that I am to be engaged.' Well,' said the arrived at Barnet. This was the place which Kean had gentleman, will you breakfast with me in the morn-appointed for receiving them. They were all to breaking? I am at the hotel. I shall be glad to fast there, and then to return, in the tragedian's train, to London. On encountering the great actor, they were about to welcome him, each after his own fashion, when he stopped them, with a serious air. Before you say a word, my merry men,' said he- Behold! fall down, and kiss this relic! This is the toe-bone of the greatest We have no desire, after the remarks we have creature that ever walked the earth-of George Fredefelt it a duty to make, to dwell more particularly ric Cooke. He was lying without a monument, till I on the few details of Mr. Kean's private history put one over him. Come, down with you all, and kiss (after his eminence) which are given in these the bone!' Elliston, between doubt and reverence, fell volumes. It inspires as much disgust, as the upon his knees and kissed the ridiculous relic. Another illiterate gabble, with which he seems, on all oc- dropped down with difficulty-(Our son was fat.') casions, to have stuffed the landlords of inns, and Then another came, and another; and thus actor after the members of the Drury lane Theatrical Fund, actor followed, from the beginning to the end of the line, inspires contempt. We cannot help expressing, down to breakfast, with what appetite' we cannot pretill all had performed the ceremony. They then sate however, our very warm admiration of the con- tend to say. In an hour or two, the procession formed duct of Mr. Charles Kean, as it is indicated, with again, and, with Kean at its head, took the road to Loninfinite delicacy, in a few lines towards the con- don. Our hero, still a treasurer (of relics), although he clusion of the work. The tenderness of a son, had given up the post of master and treasurer to the and the conscious firmness of a gentleman, were Drury lane Fund, led the way to his house in Clarges never more forcibly displayed. We would cor-street. Arrived there, the greater part of his brother dially join in the hope expressed for his future actors left him, and Kean proceeded to the library. His success in his profession, but that we have every first words were (to his wife), I have brought Charles a reason to believe his success already assured by fortune. I have brought something that the Directors his own exertions, beyond the reach of hope or of the British Museum would give ten thousand pounds fear. We should like to know, by the bye, whe-for; but they shan't have it.' Mrs. Kean, lost in won'Look here!' said he, prother the interesting letter to Mrs. Kean, quoted der, inquired what it was. at the end of the work, was really written at the ducing it. Here it is. Here is the toe-bone of the time mentioned, and answered as stated. We Frederic Cooke! With that he proceeded to deposit it greatest man that ever lived-the illustrious George more than doubt this, though it does not inter-gently on the mantel-piece, saying, in caution,Now, fere, one way or the other, with the propriety of observe, I put this on the mantel-picce; but let no one the course adopted by Mrs. Kean, whose conduct dare to touch it. You may all look at it-at a distance; we think to have been irreproachable. It is merely but be sure that no one presumes to handle it.' Here right that, as a matter of interest, the circum-it remained for several months. Occasionally (to an instance should be given correctly. telligent visiter) he would explain the merits of the There are some points in the book which we bone; but otherwise, it was honoured only by his own mean to take another opportunity of adverting to. single admiration. His wife detested the bone. The Meanwhile we leave it with every wish for its servants hated it. The maids were afraid of it. They success; sure that it deserves it, and grateful to thought (probably) that it would get up and act. But the author (Mr. Barry Cornwall) for the way in meddling with it. At last-it was one dull evening, no one ventured to hazard the tragedian's displeasure by which he has acquitted himself of a very delicate when Kean had been absent from home for several days, and difficult task. We should mention that an and his wife was tired of waiting and watching for interesting introduction prefaces the life, retro-him-the detestable toe-bone presented itself to her sight. spective of actors and acting. It was a pity, however, to forget in it the great artist, Le Kain, who restored nature to the French stage. A few bitter words escaped her. She felt inclined to commit profanation on the relic, but contented herself with walking up and down, eyeing the object of her husband's adoration with the most sincere disgust. She apWe now copy a Transatlantic anecdote :- proached again; and finally seized the bone (protecting her fingers by a piece of paper), and 'canted' it without "Cooke was buried in New York; and when Kean ceremony into the adjoining garden. This garden bewas there, he visited what was supposed to be his grave. longed to the Duke of Portland, and contained a well, Being a great admirer of the dead tragedian, he caused which was dry; and it was into this well that the illushis body to be taken up and removed to another place, trious bone descended. In an instant, the House of and over the new grave he erected a monument, in ho. Portland was unconsciously richer, by ten thousand nour of the actor's genius. In the transition, from the pounds, than it had been the hour before. The tee-bone old grave to the new, Kean abstracted one of the toe- was theirs! Was, do we say? Nay, it is theirs still, bones. It was a little black relic, and might have passed up to this present writing. It may easily be sup. for a tobacco stopper. Some persons even said, How posed, that a deed of this sort could not have been perpedo you know that this belonged to Cooke?' but the in-trated without important consequences. Accordingly, dignation of Kean at such scepticism, stifled all further Mrs. Kean soon began to experience some fearful questioning. He deposited the bone in his dressing- alarms; and these were not allayed by a thundering rap case, perfectly satisfied with its identity, locked it carefally up, and brought it to England. When he arrived here, the Drury lane Company, rejoicing at the return of their head,' resolved to meet and welcome him at some 'distance from London, and (by their presence) VOL. XXVII. August, 1835-22 at the door, which announced the tragedian's return. The door was opened, and he went straight into the library, very drunk. Whenever he was drunk, he went to the toe for consolation. But now,-the toe was not there! He rang the bell furiously. His wife an greatest of abominations-a wig. A male wig is | found in him the sole representative of the bloom to my fancy a bad business; it never makes any- which time had so ruthlessly wiped away from body look younger or better than he would look all the rest of the family. He seemed to take to without it; it deceives nobody, and yet every-me too, and my spirits began to rise; but, accibody who wears one flatters himself that not one dentally, as I left the room, I heard him say to in a hundred discovers his secret. When a man my sister, "I say aunt, what can we do to amuse above forty is pointed out as good-looking, he is the old gentleman?" and that was a damper ! invariably the man without the wig; but a female My disappointments were many, but to describe wig is a hundred times worse! a wig with a long them in detail would be tedious. At balls I tail, which is twisted up to act youth! a wig with found that nobody expected me to dance, unless a flower stuck in it! It is like a garland on a indeed there happened to be a lack of beaux, and tombstone, for a wig, after all, is but a memorial then my "good-nature" in standing up was reof departed youth! and such a wig was my sis- marked, or some pert girl said, What! you ter Mary's, with a bit of lily of the valley hitched figuring away!" under one of the curls. I longed to snatch it off, and throw it into the fire, but thought perhaps that might not be taken in good part, and I desisted. I was advised by all my family to marry, by all means the very thing I wished; but I never dreamed of proposing for any woman that was not young and pretty; I did propose for one that was decidedly both, and was rejected. I felt miserably out of spirits, wofully disappointed, and I could not tell one of the family the And had I spent the twenty best years of my cause of my depression. I felt relieved when it life, incessantly toiling to obtain wealth, in order was time to take my candle and go to bed, and, that I might return home to enjoy myself? and after so long a journey in the open air, I soon fell had I returned at last only to discover that the fast asleep. The next morning I awoke by no season for enjoyment had passed away? So it means a giant refreshed; my wetting of the pre- would appear; but I had committed one great vious day had given me a lumbago and pains in error, and these little confessions of an elderly all my limbs, and when I entered the breakfast-gentleman may prove a warning to others who room, with my back bent, and one leg following the other with considerable difficulty, I saw clearly that my mother and sisters looked at me with compassion, and considered me a premature Methusalem. are similarly situated. story must be wooed and won. If it be your lot Let no one dream of "beginning life at forty;" were I to start again at the age of nineteen, to play the same part, on the same stage, I should know that on that stage my scene of youth must There was, however, an old gentleman stand-be enacted, and there the heroine of my loveing by the fire to keep me in countenance, and by his side a remarkably fine young man, who, on turning round at my entrance, displayed the very face of my dear elder brother, just as I had left him twenty years before. I shuffled up to the lad without an instant's hesitation, and, calling him by his name, caught him in my arms; to my surprise the young man laughed rather good-humouredly, but as it appeared rather with a feeling of awkwardness, and, without by any means reciprocating my endearments, walked away to the window. The elderly gentleman, however, endeavoured to make amends; he shook me most paternally by the hand, and apologized for my nephew's coldness. My nephew! yes, he was born two years after I left England! and there was my brother, who, having now been married near twenty years, and possessing moreover a numerous family, had left off being a young man, and might, as the phrase goes, be "taken for any age." From Fraser's Magazine. RETURN FROM LEAVE. BY C. O'DONOGHUE, LATE ENSIGN (18TH) ROYAL IRISH. The moment an Irishman says, CC Never fear, your honour: I'll engage!" depend upon it there Some men leave off being young much earlier is every reason to tremble, every prospect that than others; a great deal depends upon the con-his engagement will be broken; and that the stant habit of making up to go into society. By vociferations of confidence-invariably in an inmaking up, I by no means infer the use of cos-verse ratio to even perhaps his expectations of metics, dyes, &c., but merely the very innocent endeavour to make oneself "look one's best." When once this habit is given up, whether from ill-health or the withdrawing from society, there's an end of the matter-there's no resuming it; look in the glass, and the elderly gentleman stands before you! Here was another disappointment, and a bitter one; however, I made the best of it. I took a at fancy to my nephew, perhaps because I ultimate success in the object on hand, whatever it may be-always increase till the obvious impossibility of accomplishing the desired end stares him, and you, too fully in the face for further self-deception. Then he tries to look as much like an idiot as he can; and scratching his head, ejaculates, "That's too bad, now;" just as if he were quite astonished at failure. His simplicity is the armour in which he trusteth, and he dons it whenever it suits his purpose-which is ingly, we ended our journey twenty minutes after the Cork coach, which was to have dropped me at Fermoy, began its-he of the jingling, jaunting-car laying the blame as usual on his hard fortune for he swore the coach had always been at least half an hour late in starting till that very morning, "bad luck to it!" Time, tide, and the 24th, never yet waited for a subaltern: a cock-and-bull story about the lame mare, though she was the best in Clare county, would prove but a sorry reason in writing" (when any thing went amiss in the regiment, we were asked by the commanding officer for reasons in writing); and Gauntlet's reports to the Horse Guards were not waste paper. Therefore, though but as slenderly provided with cash as an Irish country gentleman's son could decently be, I was obliged to hire a chaise and proceed which I did without any extraordinary mishap till I arrived at Kildorrery, one stage from my destination. Here the winter's night set in; and my chance of getting post-horses on to Fermoy was but small, seeing that a Charleyville chaise was standing quietly in the street, while from within a gruff voice soundly rated mine host for not having any always. If honest, his simplicity is genuine; if hunters to Ennis, where I slept, from whence I a rogue, 'tis so ably counterfeited, that it defies was to procure some species of conveyance to the detection of the common observer; and, not- Limerick. Next morning, the 24th day of Dewithstanding his protestations, in all probability cember, some five or six-and-thirty years ago, the he does not care a fraction whether you succeed dawn found me on the road, occupying the only or fail-though, perhaps, he would sympathise in means of transport I could procure, viz. a hired your good fortunes, and rather wish you well, jingling jaunting-car, drawn by a blindish, lamish through his constitutional good humour, than the sort of a mare, which, however, I was assured reverse. Then he depends so much on fate. by the owner and driver, was one of the best in Onwards, blundering, slapdash-headlong he Clare county, and when once warm in the collar, rushes in the teeth of common reason, with the would trot like a shot. "Oh, I'll engage your blindness of a Musselman fatalist, or the insou-honour," he said more than once, "we'll make siance of an eastern opium-eater;-utterly re- out the road finely, never fear!" And, accordgardless of consequences is he in his devil may care career, hoping, in spite of probability, that his "luck,"" that jewel in his dower," will befriend him to the end. And if he so acts in his own affairs, will he be more circumspect in those of others? If he swims with the current, hoping the stream may turn with his all afloat, can it be expected he will buffet the tide for you? If he starts in a wrong direction, he is sure to gallop like fury-'tis the fault of his stars. He carries his stone up hill with the vigour of a dray-horse and pertinacity of a Sysiphus, till within a stride from the summit, when he wonders at its slipping from his grasp; and thundering into the vale below, he sees it sink in gurgite vasto, while he exclaims, "To the devil I pitch all bad luck!" His bad luck is bad calculation; and you who trust to Paddy's luck, are but a bad calculator too. Yet, all things considered, it is not "unpleasant being buoyed up by hope, however contrary to right reason, arising from his cheerfully confidant affirmations of succeeding, instead of sinking to despair, which would be the case were he too joined in our doleful forebodings. Let not the stranger in Ireland, then, think himself safe when he is requested to "never fear, your hon-means of taking him forward to the very place I our," nor put implicit faith in promises coupled wished to go. No horses for one traveller, still with "I'll engage." Even when Paddy despairs less for two; we might join company, to be sure, of accomplishing your purpose, so sweet has yet still be only united in misfortune. The gruff been the delusion of hope in his own mind, that voice swore roundly enough, and I sympathised he cannot for the life of him find it in his heart with it; which the voice appeared to like, for it to destroy them in yours by telling you so. At invited me to join it in the chaise if animals the end he can always shift the responsibility could be procured. A pair had been kept by the from his shoulders by laying the fault on "luck." landlord; but unfortunately one of the pair had A two months' leave of absence, the first I had expired of the glanders that very morning, and received from the regiment, having expired, it was nothing could persuade its disconsolate mate to incumbent on me to rejoin the head-quarters of draw a chaise alone. The idlers about the yard, the 18th, or Royal Irish, then stationed at Fer- of which in Erin there is a plentiful abundance, moy; and as we were commanded by Col. Gaunt-suggested divers steeds; but one man's horse had let, whose name I had occasion to mention in a been carting turf all day, another's had "divil a previous paper, as being a particularly taut hand shoe to her foot," and that of a third was averred of the old martinet school, I felt exceedingly by the owner to possess "a quare sort of a weaknervous lest some untoward circumstance should ness about her after nightfall." At last a "cowlt," occur to prevent my appearance at muster; belonging to an absent neighbour, was mentioned especially as my stay in the paternal mansion of as a substitute for the defunct. This suggestion dear old Ballybeg had been prolonged to the last was like a spark to gunpowder. The colt was moment by my loving mother, rest her soul! who caught, harnessed, and put to with great despatch; thought she never saw enough of her darling first- but who was to drive seemed a question in the born. yard: though why any hesitation was shown we had yet to learn. At the end of five minutes' whispering, however, a loose-looking character swallowed a couple of glasses of whisky, rolled his cottamore about his person, flourished a cudgel, with a rope tied to it by way of a whip, al his head, seized the reins, crammed his hat Though the highroad from Galway to Limerick passed my father's door, no mail coach ran upon it in those unsophisticated times.. Almost all our journeys in that part of Ireland were made on horseback; and therefore, according to the usual mode of traveling, I took one of my father's VOL. XXVII. AUGUST 1835.-21 as it was, down over his ears, and having perched I was obliged, literally speaking, to grin and bear himself on the driving-bar, gave an encouraging it. mana ings on you! just row! a taste of red turf in a whisp of straw, and bring it hither to me. I'll engage, your honour, we'll go by an' by, if we have any luck." His emissaries performed the parts assigned; one bringing a branch of a furze bush, and the other appearing with a bundle of straw; but for what purposes these adjuncts to his cudgel were paraded I could not guess. "Now, boys," said Carty, "one of ye's howld the head of the cowlt firm till I give the word. Are ye ready with the whisp?" "We are," answered little Thady. "By George I wont stand this!" cried I; "these vagabonds will have us dashed to pieces. You, Carty, Carty, you scoundrel! don't you hear?" "I do, your honour," answered Jack; "but I'll engage we wont keep you long now, any way." "I'll not pay you a farthing," I roared; "I'll break your head; I'll". "hellups!" to the nags; but he might as well When this desperate work had continued for a have thus invoked spirits from the vasty deep-couple of minutes, Carty suddenly altered his the chaise did not stir. "Drive on!" cried my tactics. He ceased to strike; and one of the companion, whom I had perceived by the light spectators, thinking him vanquished in the strife, from the soi-disant hotel to be a downcast, black- exclaimed, "By Gor, boy-o! the bastes have floglooking genius, like a half-washed coal-porter. ged you entirely." "Drive on!" was the sentiment echoed from "Divil a hap'orth, you spalpeen with an ugly the crowd in several voices and in different modes face!" returned our driver, "I'll start 'em - yet, of phraseology. For instance: "Can't ye be never fear! Padreen agra, fetch me a sprig of after starting?" cried one: "Hit 'em, Jack," ex-furze out of the gap; and, little Thady, my blessclaimed another: "Baste the hide of the cowlt, John Carty; 'tis he have the raal go in his bones," roared a third: "Quilt 'em both your sowl to glory, Johnny!" exclaimed a fourth: "Strike him strong, was the enthusiastic advice of a fifth. Accordingly John Carty, as it seemed our phaton junior was called, struck the old horse a thwack with the butt end of his whip, which I thought must have splintered three of his ribs at least, with about as much and no more effect than the Abbess of Andouillet's address to her mules in the Sentimental Journey, the smited steed would not budge. He whisked the lash lightly over the other's loins; the cowlt, putting its head between "Give it a whisk in the wind till it lights, my its forelegs, kicked at him like fury. But it ap-bouchal; and, Padreen, lift up the old horse's peared that John Carty had too much of a tho- tail, and shove the sprig between it and the rough-going Jehu in his composition to be scared crupper." by such trifles as horses' heels, for with a mon dioul!" he returned the colt's compliments in style with his cudgel, to the extreme gratification of the lookers-on, who audibly encouraged both combatants. But though this interlude was choice amusement to them, and even, perhaps, might have been fun for Jack Carty, I was by no means delighted with the prospect of a capsize. Bang! bang! went the colt's feet against the splinter bar and front part of the post-chaise, for that I did not much care; whack! whack! sounded the driver's whip-handle on the horse's ribs in reply, neither did that give me pain: but I expect- I endeavoured to let down the front window, ed plunging and bolting to follow, which would which, by the way, was nearly all panel, with a have upset us in a twinkling; and accordingly little square pane of glass at top, in order to check mentioned my fears to my companion, who, how-the driver's hand with mine, but it was immovable. ever, did not appear to be at all fearful of personal accidents, as he only told me to "sit aisey." To "sit aisey," indeed, when I expected a broken neck, was not part of my system at all, so I tried to open the chaise door next to me; but it was as hermetically closed (with ten-penny nails I verily believed) as was the black-hole in Calcutta. I cried for emancipation as vigorously as a Roman catholic; I besought my friend with the gruff voice to try the door on his side, by which I had entered this unhallowed vehicle; cursed Jack Carty from the very bottom of my soul, with curses both loud and deep: but my cries were unheeded amidst the din of delight that rose wildly among the idlers; my new acquaintance was obdurate; Jack Carty was minding his cudgel play and shifting his shins: my imprecations were as froth in the tempest. The cowlt was, typical of my lively country, lashed into rage by the arch-agitator, Jack Carty: the chaise, the constitution it wished to kick to pieces. How fervently and for the only time did I pray for an immediate repale of our union! In short, "Ah now, sir, sit aisey, can't you?" interrupted my companion, in a most dissatisfied tone. "When I screach 'Off,' thrust the whisp under the cowlt's belly, in God's name!" cried Carty, and his myrmidons promised to obey him. Padreen had the old horse's tail in his left hand, the furze-bush in his right; a flickering flame began to wreath round little Thady's handful of straw; Carty again crammed his hat down on his brows, and held his reins tight; I expected almost immediate annihilation; and the crowd was hushed in expectation of the eventful "off.” "Hellups!" roared Carty; it did as well as "off." Padreen applied his prickles to the unfortunate brute's crupper; little Thady's straw blazed between the colts hind legs; and with a jerk which I should have thought sufficiently violent to break five pairs of traces, we dashed forward into the gloom at a rate that in a few seconds left the shouters of Kildorrery far behind. It was pitch dark; I could scarcely distinguish the outline of our driver's figure; the horses I could not see; yet on we rushed, swifter than did any chaise before, Carty hallooing to his steeds, whacking them with his cudgel, though they were already at the top of their speed, as if impatient for the moment. of our murder and his suicide. I was in an agony of tremor; but my companion, |