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"Well, now," they replied; "we have those animals, how are we to kill them?",

This speech has the effect of electricity. They all start; with one consent they give the desired oath. The cards fall to the ground, the fortune forgotten; the mare becomes of very secondary importance; another stitch drops in the fated sock.,

"You hurt me!" replies he, in a peculiar tone, that is not so peculiar but it fully satisfies her. And then he smiles, and, seeing old Brian has once more returned to the fire and his pipe, and Biddy has gone for fresh water, he stoops over the reddened basin, and, in spite of all the unromantic surroundings, kisses her as fondly as if roses and moonbeams and dripping fountains and perfumed exotics were on every side. And this, because true romance—that needs no outward fire to keep it warm—is in his heart.,

"Oh, one at a time," says Nolly. "She couldn't do it all at once. Such a stretch of fancy requires thought."

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"Is that all?" says Violet, in a tone of surprise certainly, but as certainly in one of relief.,

Even as Geoffrey is looking at her, full of tender thought, one of the dogs, as though divining the fact that she is being left somewhat alone, lays its big head upon her shoulder, and looks at her with large loving eyes. Turning to him in response, she rubs her soft cheek slowly up and down against his. Geoffrey with all his heart envies the dog. How she seems to love it! how it seems to love her!,

To-morrow will be market-day in Bantry, to which the week's butter must go; and now the churning is over, and the result of it lies cold and rich and fresh beneath Mona's eyes. She herself is busily engaged printing little pats off a large roll of butter that rests on the slab before her; her sleeves are carefully tucked up, as on that first day when Geoffrey saw her; and in defiance of her own heart—which knows itself to be sad—she is lilting some little foolish lay, bright and shallow as the October sunshine that floods the room, lying in small silken patches on the walls and floor.,

Mr. Darling is a flaxen-haired young gentleman of about four-and-twenty, with an open and ingenuous countenance, and a disposition cheerful to the last degree. He is positively beaming with youth and good spirits, and takes no pains whatever to suppress the latter; indeed, if so sweet-tempered a youth could be said to have a fault, it lies in his inability to hold his tongue. Talk he must, so talk he does,—anywhere and everywhere, and under all circumstances.