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"And three-quarters. Don't deceive yourself, my dear fellow: they can't be here one moment before a quarter to eight.",

"Eh, but this is bad news!" says old Scully, evidently terrified and disheartened by his niece's words. "Where will it all end? Come in, Misther Rodney: let me look at ye, boy. No, not a word out of ye now till ye taste something. 'Tis in bits ye are; an' a good coat it was this mornin'. There's the whiskey, Mona, agra, an' there's the wather. Oh! the black villain! Let me examine ye, me son. Why, there's blood on ye! Oh! the murthering thief!",

He has heard the remarkable speech made to his mother, and has drawn his own conclusions therefrom. "Geoffrey has been coaching the poor little soul, and putting absurd words into her mouth, with—as is usual in all such cases—a very brilliant result." So he tells himself, and is, as we know, close to the truth.,

"It is a pity anything should be said against Ireland," says Rodney, cleverly; "it is such a lovely little spot."

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The typical Irishman, in whom Lever delighted, with his knee-breeches and long-tailed coat, his pig under one arm and his shillalah under the other, is literally nowhere! The caubeen and the dhudheen which we are always hearing about may indeed be seen, but they are very usual objects in all lands, if one just alters the names, and scarcely create astonishment in the eyes of the on-looker.,

"Is—is Violet Mansergh a pretty girl?" asks Mona, grasping instinctively at the fact that any one called Violet Mansergh may be a possible rival.,

"Waiting—for what? Is it to shoot him?" asks the girl, breathlessly.,

"Troth I am, sir. I see him goin' wid me own two eyes not an hour ago, in the gig an' the white horse, wid the wan eye an' the loose tail,—that looks for all the world as if it was screwed on to him. An' 'tisn't Norry is callin' for him nayther (though I don't say but she'll be on the way), but Larry Moloney the sweep. 'Tis a stitch he got this morning, an' he's gone intirely this time, the people say. An' more's the pity too, for a dacent sowl he was, an' more nor a mortial sweep."