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Les diagrammes sulvants illustrent la mAthode. i t 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 I I m^ THE LADY OF O^HE BEACON OrmASEEBA. > (A CHROMICLE OF ONISHOWEN.) EDITED BY PAUL FEPFilltGRilSS. 1859. QUEBEC: DANIEL CAREY & CO. / ,i^i»f\ "iu'" ' . '*l»<. >.'it ..l:r.l. Kti-' . ^%-Cf l^c 3 \ \ s-y.^ *• •^^A :a;i'^ ■|'H. . .fc Printed at tho Offlco of the " Qnelea Vindieator.'' -.,- i\^i ^;-N^'4< > --.iiiftiiiite«<>H4-ateifeMff,%iiifaitjt» .i. ■^ ^MUiMrfrinMMii.^i^m THE LAOT Op TH% BFACON OF ARAHEERA. 1 CHAPTER I. I N T R D U C T O R T . DiSAiR Reader, havjC tbe goodness to ^n your finger down tJbie map of Ireland to I Qortbernmost poinjt, or if tbat be incoa- Bpientylet your imagination rua down wjth- it it to the easternmost promontory of the toUnty Donegal; you shall theo have isported yourself witljiout trouble or ex- mce, and in a manner suitable enough for ir purpose!, to the spot urhere our story immences. It may happen, however, in this rambling i, that one day or other you would grow red of travelling by the map and band- >ok, and make up your mind to quit the feside and see the world for yourself — iferring your own eyes to your neigh- »urs' spectacles. After a long tour [rough Europe you may yet some fine jening in August or September, find your- If standing on the Pier of Leitb or Dun- urton Heights, looking across the channel ^d wishing you were in Ireland. Don't list tbe temptation, v/e pray thee,' but iv.ipg your national prejudices behind you |tb your Scotch landlord, book yourself Dublin, in the first packet, and with a [od conscience and an honest heart take a \p over the water, and visit, were it only a week, the land of beauty, gallantry ^d song. If, however, you happen to be one of [ose very respectable young gentlemen 10 go over to make pictures of Irish-life, Jth the view of being stared at and Hop- »d in village drawing-rooms on their re- |rn — one of tbose extremely talented and >mising youpg inen who voyage in crowds ^ery year, for a supply of Irish barbarisms [d J^on^jsh superstitions. If you happen, say, to .be of ]t]bat class, let us remind I, dear jreader, (and we do it .in all sin- |rity) tb«it the Mull of Cant}Te is 9. dm- |rous sea, worse by all odds tban tbti S&y Biscay. Don't venture through it jby \j means, but like a prudent young iQap, finish your tour with Benlomood oitd tl^e Trossacks, and return hone to Americft with as little delay as possible. As for the Irish peculiarities you would go in quettof, they arji now very scarce and* difficult to procure-r-we mean fresh ones, of course, for the old sets are bruised so much in tb« handling as to be entirely valueless ; even the manufacturers of the article who made so jolly a living on the simplicity of strip- ling tourists twenty years ago^ are no Ion* ger in existence, Tbey have passed away as an efiete race, and are now dead, gone aqd forgotten. Pictures of Irish life are indeed very difficult to dispose of at present, either to the pulpit, the Suoday newspapers, or even the Foreign Benevo-^ knt Societies ; unless they happen to be drawn by master hands. Such pictures for instance as the *^ Priest and the bottle," the •< Fiddler and the beggars," the " Con* fessor and the Nun," have lost all point since Mr. Thackeray's visit to that coun« try, and are now grown as stale and 9at as small beer drippings off a pot-house coun^ ter. Twenty years ago, however, the case was very different. An Irishman then, in certain sections of the United States, was as great a wonder as a Bengal Tigery ^r an Abyssinian Elephant, and he fell so €ir below the ordinary standard of humanity in those days as to be considered unaccouat<^ able to human laws. We have ouraelvea been assured, on roost excellent authority, that certain ladies of Maine, even within the time mentioned, actnaljy vrent as a de- legation to an unfortunate Irishman, who strayed into their neighborhood, and set about manipulatinf his head all over in or^ der to ascertain by personal iospection> whetlier his horns grew on the fore or hind part of his cranium. The manner of their reception by tlte courteous and gaUantbar* harian, is still related hjr aome of theaetors in the little meJo-drama> and though quite characteristic of his race, would hardly be accounted edifying in this simple narrative. This mwphi however, we may venture to af^ Oi THE I.ADT OF THE BEACON QV ARAHEERA. firm, that since tho event took place there has been but one opinion on the sufcyect in that locallt)', that the Irish w?ar po horns of any desMiription whatever ej^ther behind oi^ before y-^rare endowed with the ordinary fe^Iings^ and senses peculiar to the human fft(n<|f->-and exhibit arms and legs hands atidtefith precisely like their Nprman and Ahgl6-Saxon neighbours. B^t whilst they assimilate thus in all thtir physical developments there is still certain national peculiarities which distin- gidSl^ them from the people of all other na- tions. In the first piace the brogue is very pebuifar. It differs Trom that of the Scotch Hiffhliindefr, the Vermonter and the Ger- man inw4iat is called, intensity o,t accen- tuation— ^and it is very remarkable that thi^ peculiar intensity of accentuation is niibst striking when they speak on subjects in any way connected with religion — the iWoad sound of the vowels, which they have still t*etained since their old Classic days, ex1ul)itirtg' a striking- contrast wiith the re- (oi^med method of pronounciatipn. The Collocation of their words, too, sounding so strange to itnclassic ears (though admira- blife'tn the Italian and French) contributes pti^haps in i|ome degree to aggravate the I]«[)^bftt!isini But we must not venture on (kitaliU'or>w;e sliould A^Ver have doiie ; suf- iidlf it to sa^V that according to all accounts, sAlitf i^anicuWly the ' accounts of Amet-iean tdtJnsttt; the Irish are one and all the stran- ge^} people en thb face of the earth. They ntfifei*'do any thing) we are told, like other pebble. 'Whatever they put their hands tby: fpbirt [ieeling a potato to^ shooting a landlord, they have their own peculiar way of doing'iil. Whether they eat or drink. yk^lk of sleepy tie their shoes, or pick tliei twrtfe'jHhey are noted for their wonderful ot^^lt^t^i. Atld it is-not the people only, ItoC %(tafif e to say, the very cows aiid iior- seHilRI tditf remarkable country, bellow and itelgl' ^ttitte diflfef fently^ from those of other ntticilHl-*>ith« jAflfe and style being, quite fticpie, or in other words, "peculiarly nuine cirili:iat'ic|n--iif you be one of=tbaj Irish." It*s but a few wetk* ago, sine* a certain Mr. Gustavus Theodore SimpKings of Boston returned from^ Ireland; with the startling discovery that the hens Ijaid ^heir eggs there in a manner quite diir(^rent from that adopted by the hens of other cQun- tries. We may be allowed also, to add! by | way of appendix to the fact, that in conse- quence of the impQjrtant nature of the dis* covery, a board of Commissioners trill I shoirtlj^ be sent ovei; to investigate the mtul ter thoroughly, in prder that thi? poultry | fanciers of Ne\y England may take mea-i sures accordingly to, promote the. interests I of their excellent associations. Whether the country at large, however will approve this new method is still a disputed questipii. Our own opinion is, the New England^rs will reject it, not soleiy because it's Irtsh, tho^'^h that indeed wpuld seeA to be rea- son sufficient, but ratl^pr on account of the danger of propagating Popery in thiit pe- culiar way. We have heard of " treason?! eggs, (Mr. O'Connell and Marcus Costel- lo were arrested over two pair of them inl Home's Coffee Room, Dublin, five and! twenty years ago, avowing tj^eif guilt,VaQ.(( if treason could be propagated in thatf^hi ion, we ask why not Poper^? Now after ail this nicety to which, ^^r- tain things are carried, simp^ because theyl are Irish, it is quite needfelss. to say that thej national peculiarities of that people are alll but exhafisted, and consequently, the y.^ungl tourist fresh from the counttng-roon^,c*i expect little there to requite him foif the| fatigue and expense of such a journey. But, dear reader mine, if your heart Ibe in| the right place and above the reach of pal- try prejudice, if you're man enough to^hinkl for yourself, and instead of viewing Irelanc in print shop and pantdmihe, look at faije to face with, your own honest ey«,- if you be determined tOsfee thfiigs in tl]^ft| true colors arid to avoid the irulgar bluitdr of mistaking the Irish fij^j^^e/or intetei|at barbarisin, nntl^ld Watch chains fOr gc u v.. ■^f^f*.;'.*w^.^^.v,j 1 mim' rmifr iiJMiniMiiii'iriih A CHRONICtl! OP INNISHOWEX. ^tamp, tlicn In heaven's name step aboard IS soon &s possible, for a crime it would be igainst your conscience to turn back vvith-^ in sight of the green old Isle where Moore ind Griffin *' wept and sang." Once there, pass not hurriedly over it, lor every inch is classic ground. Not a lountain or valley from ^'ape Clear to the riant's Causeway but has its old traditions, [f you ever read Bar^im, or Morgan, Culli- mne or Griffin, ask the guide at your elbow to point out, as you ride along, the scenes they describe and the monuments they chronicle. If you fever listened to the iongs of Moore, and felt the sadness they Inspire, stop for a moment and gaze on the renerable ruiris to which they are conse- crated, and they will seem to you more sad ind plaintive than pvpr. You may not ^veep over those mouldering walls and ruin- id shrine«i, like the returning exile revisit- ing once more the haunts of his boyhood, )ut still, stranger as you are, the very sigl J >f them will do you good ; the tottering lower and the crumbling wall, and the holv pell, and the broken cross, will bring you lalutary reflections — will teach you that Wery conntry, to deserve a place in the re- lord of nations, must have a past, and that purishing as the republic of Washington now, its whole history up to this hour, muld hardly cover a single page in the fu- ire annals of the world. But, dear reader, wrhenever you ramble irou^h the old place, forget not to visit llije s^cene of our story. It may not be so jrand as Niagara ppr so picturesque ks the Hudson, bat it will repay you rell, nevertheless for yonr trouble. 'More- over, it lies directly in your way from the iouj)tains of the west to the famous Giant's Jauseway — a wild solitary spot to the east ^f llfose blue hills that shelter the fertile faljeys of Donegal frpni tlie stoxnis of the rfortliern Ocean. CHAPTER II. heera light house, and the Tillage of Rath- mullen on the river SwilLy, is an extremely wild and mountainous district, being indeed little more than a succession of hills rising one above the other and terminating at last in the bald and 'towering scalp of Benra- ven. Standing on this elevated spot, the traveller has a full view of the country for a distance of some twenty miles around. £{eyond Araheera point appears Malin Head, the northern extremity of the far- famed Barony of InnishovRen, running far out into the ocean, and heaving back the billows in white foam as they break against his dark and sulky form. Westward looms up the majestic brow of Horn Head^ under whose frown a thousand v.essels hav« per- ished, and close by its-, side the- famous opening in the rock called McSwine's gun. thundering like the roar of a hundred can- non when the storm comes in from, the west. Between these two land marks, standing out there likeiuge sentinels guard- ing the coast, stretches the long white- shore called Ballyhernam Strand, andi be- tween that and Benraven- the beautiful; quiet 'little sea of Mulroy, with its count- less islets lying under the long deep sha- dows of the mountains. Close by the broad base of the latter — so close indeed that you can hurl a stone from the top into the water below, is the calm, quiet lake called Lough Ely, so celebrated for its sil- very char and golden trout. As the tra- veller looks down from the summit of Ben- raven, there is hardly a sign of human ha- bitation to be seen below, if indeed, we except the light house itself, whose white- tower rises just visible over the heads of the lessening hills. But when he begins . to descend and pursue his way along the manor road, winding as it nms through the dark and deep recesses of the mountains, . many a comfortable little homestead meets. his view, and many a green meadow and, wavy cornfield helps to, relieve the barren^ and desolate character of the The country b»'t\veen Enni.s, or Ara- scene. sJHToundingv^ I TUG LADY OF TUB BE4C0N OF ARAHBERA, i % It was a fine evening in June 185-, the sheep after browsing all day long, were ly- ing on the green sunny slopes of the glens, and the hoodie crows, after their rambling flight, sat dozing here and there on huge rocks by the road side which the winter torrents had detached from the mountains, when a man might be seen wending his way slowly down the road towards Arahee- ra light-house. He wore a short jacket an(( trowsers, somewhat sailor fashion, and kept his hands thrust into his side pockets as he jogged along, whistling and singing by turns to keep himself company. Still, though he looked at first not unlike a sea- faring man, there was that in his gait and general deportment which smacked too strongly oi the hill-side, to mistake him for one accustomed to walk the deck of a ship, or even to ply the oar in search of a liveli- hood. Moreover he wore a rabbit skin cap jauntily set on the side of bis head, and carried a stoot black.thorn under his arm, both which mdicated clearly enough, that his habits oi life were more landward grown than his dress and near proximity to the sea might have at first suggested. But whatever might have been his occupation ia general, he appeared to have little to engage hjm this evening, in particulor, for he loitered long on his way, seemingly quite disposed to take the world easy, and break no bones in his hurry to accomplish his journey. More than once did he stop to clap his hands and gaze after a hare, start- led from her cover by his noisy approach, or fling a stone at the hoodie crows dozing on the rocks. In this careless manner he jog- ged along whistling and singino as the hu- mor touched him. At first the words of his song were confused by the echoes of the glens, but grew more distinct as he de- scended to the shore, till at length the fol- lowing yerse of a very popular ditty rang out clear and strong upon the ear : •' Oh th« Saseanach villianu de'il take them ! Th«»y »irlf< us as bare as the ' poles,* Pvt there's one thing u-« jusi couldn't spare them, The ' Kidug* that rovers our soul*. Right fotdeiolol la la did! I Right fala la l«e,"&c.&c. He sang this verse at least half a dozeii times, at different intervals, and had just commenced to sing it once more, when all of a sudden the song and the singer came both [ to a full stop. Had a highwayman leaped from a hedge and held a pistol to the tra*; veller's head he could not have halted more abruptly. In an instant, he stood still, | gazing at something he saw roiind the an-: gle of the road, and then buttoning his jack- et and clutching his black thorn, made a I step forward in a belligerent attitude, as ifl an unlooked for enemy had appeared and I offered him battle. And so it was. The antagonist he so suddenly encountered ba4 taken his position in the very middle of the road, and by his motions seemed resolve^ to maintain that position at every hazard, The traveller, on the other hand, was by no means sbw to comnience hostilities, for twirlinff his staff without further parley, he I struck his adversary such a blow on thel scopce as might have been heard ringing! sharp and hard for half a mile and morel along the echoing glen. That blow, how- ever, was bis first and last, for the next in-l stant he lay sprawling in the dust, struckl down by the superior force of his enemy's weapon. Still, thopffh prostriqite, he par- ried off the blows ofliis assailant, with re-l markable adroitness, and would, in all like-l lihood, have soon risen and fully avenffedl his fall, had not a third party interfered to| terminate the battle. The latter roughs ly seizing the staff from behind, command- ed the fallen man to forbear, and then in milder and more friendly vojce, bade himl get up on his feet, and not lay there like «l partaufi. CHAPTER III, ** G^t up, Lanty," said the new comerj " get up, man. Why you must be rai mad to strike the poor witless cratliur tha^ way. Sure, it's oflly ould Nannie, that'* 4-^,. ,) B T.*ji '; .»ii aia w ii fa-a l W '> fa ii A CHRONICLE or INNISHOWEX. a prostriqite, he par- lat it 18. Get up, man ! "Nannie, or grannie !" ejaculated Lauty, >r so it seems the traveller was named, Nannie or grannie,'' he cried, turning kort and shaking himself free df the speak- er, ** she's an ould lim o' Satan, that's what ie is—' the curse of Cromwell on her !' " « Pooh, nonsense, man, never mind her ; jl's only a way she has." ** A way she has ! hedad thin it's a very [ncivil way she has, let me tell you that. — !*he villianous ould schamer can't let any kody pass without a quarrel. There's that lethody Preacher, she pounded almost to |eath last week, — one o' the civilest sowfs the whole parish. What kind o' thrate- lent is that, Pd like to know, for any da- [ent man to get, or is it neighborly in you, llse Curly, to keep such a oaste of a goat [bout yer place, to murther people without rme or raisin ?" <his usual rollicking fami- liarity of manner, would accomplish that end more eiTectually than any formal apolo- gy be could ofler. The h^tuse or cabin to which Lanty and his companion now directed their steps, (I'laimi^ still following her mistress at a respectful distance) was built onthe-sQuth- eni side of a* little green hill, called the * Cairn,' named after a pile of stones uppn HiiuiQjnit, which; tradition say9 were throwp there to mark the spot where a priest had b^n viurdered in the troublous times of Cromwell or i^lizabeth. t From the top of this hill which rises only a few rods above the roof of the cabin, a fnll view is had of the Light House, and Xiough fSly from its eastern to its western extremity. The lake in fadt, at one of its bends, tottche^ the base of the hill', and thence stretches to the lighthouse, a dis- tapQe of little more than half a mile. "And now Else, avoumeen," began Xianty, taking his seat on a fl^^ outside the cabin door, for the evening was warm, *' now that we settled that little difference, how is Batt, himself, and how does the world use him ?" " Well, indeed then, wc tanH coiuplaurj much as times go," responded Else, draw- ing her stocking from her pOcket, and be- ginning to knit in her usual stow, quiet way J for she was old, and her hancfs trembled at she plied the needles. ** As for Batt, poor ould man, he's idle the most of his time, and barrin that he goes down to the shore there of an evenin to ketch a trout or so for the supper, it's little else he has to trouble him." ** Still he gets an odd call now and then,! I^ll warrant," observed Lanty, knockingi the ashes from his pipe, and preparing tol replenish it with fresh tobacco. ** A maol like Batt Curly can't want a job long if| there's any goin." " Oh ! he gets his share to be sure, but I whereas the benefit o' that, Lanty, whenj there's nothing to be made by it." " Well, he makes a trifle over the pricel o' the tibakky and the dram any way, and! what more does he want. Eiddlin's nonfl not what it us'd to be in ould times. Else.'/ " Inddeed, thin, you may well say that,"] she replied, ** when half a crown a weddin's the highest he made this tweWevmontb.- The Lord look down on us, I don'na poor people can stand it at that rate." ** It's mighty hard," assented Lanty, band<^ ing the old woman the pipe, after wipmg it{ on the breast of his jacket. ** I mind tune myself when we cudn't shake a fut atl a w^ddin, short of a shillin a piece to thtf fiddler. But sure the people's hearts broke out and out. Else, — ^i^hygthey hav V^ the courage to dance, even if they bad mains." " It's not that, Lanty, acushia ! it's nc that, but their hearts is gone out in althegither. They're not the same peo]^(| they used to be at all . Nothin shifters tl now /sure but Walt^in and Polkin, an4 sailnj over the flure like so many childer playja cutcbe-cutchoOf and with no more sperit iij thim than so many puppies at a show.^' '' Bedad it's no wondher you $ay iij Else, — it's disgraceful so it is." mriMtifiiiiyiiifirii im> ^ 1 V I ■ * 'p» M j. ».>.fefcw*.. ■-'•j'i"fi'. I y'y'H WW ♦.ijBjjt'ti A CHRONIC K or }NM9IIuWKN. « Disgraceful ! No ; but it's a scandal [to the country, that'll what it is. There's Ibig Jamie's daugiiter, of Drumfad, that vran larrid last Thursday, and lo ! and behould fe, sir, when young Tom Conolly a&ked her )ut, she cudn't venture on a reel or a :ouptry dance at all at all, oh no ! no more ihan if she was born in the skies, let alone lit the hip of GrafTey mountain." " Musha bad luck to her impudince," ex- slaimed Lanty, " isn't she cackin ; and her jiunt beggin her bit and sup through the )arish." " Feen a word o' lie in it thin. She lunied up her nose at the Foxbunter^ Jig ind the Bosses Eatther, just as if she niver ^eard iv the like in her born life — and no- [hin would do her, savin yer favor, but go catin over the room like a doll on stilts. — ^aith it's well come up with the pack iv iim.*' " And as for poor Batt," observed Lan- r, '^ sich tunes are too new fangled for his [uld fingers. He couldn't plaze av course fh no, he's too ould fashioned for thilt." " Flaze her ! Ay indeed ; after dancing Derry city )vith her grand cousins, the lanti-makers. Flaze her ! No, Fcgeliny Imself, the great Dublin fiddler couldn't laze her. But it's the same all over the )unty ; a man can't i>l:ow a jug and glass his windo now-a-days, but his girls take jrs on thimsilves aqua! to my Lady Lei- jem, — all merchants' daughters, if you laze," and Else laughed a dry, hard laugh, id gave the leg of her stocking another itch under her arm. As she was yet speaking a stranger pass- ' down the road carrying a fishing rod in his band, and stepping over a low fence, ^ade his way slowly to a narrow tongue of id that stretched far out into Lough Ely, I spot much frequented by anglers, and par- |cularly at that season of the year. He IS a man apparently about thirty years of ^e, and wore a grey sporting frock, with ^p and gaiters to match. " That's the strange gentleman," obser- ) ved Else, " that comes down hert from Crolian to fish so often." " I saw him before." replied Lant^y " and bedad if he knows as little about the gentleman as he does about the fisherman he's no great affair. I came across biM yesterday at Kindriim and he cast his line for all the world like a smith swinging « sledge hammer. Who i^ be Else 1'' 'indeed thin myself doesn't know, Lan- ty, but I'm tould he's come here from fur- rin parts for the good of his health, and is some far out friend to the Hardtvrinkles of Crohan.'* " I wouldn't doubt it in the laste,^ said Lanty, " for he's thin and sneaky like the rest of the breed. Still he may be a da- cent man after all that." ''He's a quite aisy spoken man, any way," observed Else, *' whatever else he is. ye 9> '' And plenty o' money to spend, I'll bail '' In troth has he, and not a miser about it, either, Lanty." " Humph ! I see your acquent." " Och ! ay, he draps in here sometimes when he comes a fishin." " And opens his purse tvhen he goes oat, eh Else?" ** Oh thin, dear knows the gentleman 'id be welkim if he niver had a purse," replied Else. <i»^ * tt)mi t Mn m m un im* ; j *n A CHRONICLE OF INNlSHOWfiN. 9 janty felt full sure the trout had broken loose at last and carried flies and casting line away with him into the deep. But he iras mistaken ; for hardly had the exhausted ish been down a moment when he rose igain and sputtered on the surface like a ivounded water hen. At this instant an )bject came suddenly into view which gave in entirely new feature to the scene. A little boat carrying a small light sprit-sail IS white as driven snow, shot round the )oint and passed within two fathoms length )f the angler before he perceived it. " Hilloa I !" cried Lanty, " there goes [ary Lee. There she is in the stern sheeets handling her cockle shell like a wa- ter spirit. And there goes * Drake,' too, sittin in the bows with his cold black nose )ver the gunwale." Old Else laid by her knitting and wiped ler bleared eyes to look down at the scene. TM« LADY OF THE BEACON OP ATIAHEERA. ould heart for a million like him. And lis- ten to me, Else Curl^, for I'rh goin to tell ye a sacret. I know that man off an op fpr a pipnjth and more — not that I was iyer much in his company, but I watched him, and watched him too for a raison o' my own, a»d I tel! you plainly, Else, if he opened his purse to me ivery day ii) the y^ar, and it full o' good guineas, I cudn't feel it in my heart to touch one o' thim." "Arrah, you cudn't now!" responded Else, in a half incredulous, half jeering tone. " By my word it's mighty big spo- ken of you, Mr. Hanlon. E* thin might a body make so bould as to ax yer raisins ; faith they must be powerful ones intirely." " I have no particklar raisins,'* replied Lanty, " he niver did harm to ipe nor mine that I know of. But I don't like him.— There's something wrong about him, and I feel't somehow when I'm near him ; there's a dark spot in him somewhere that the bright light niver reached yit. Else." <' Humph l'^ ejaculated the old woman, looking sharply at her companion, << you suspect him 6f :$omething1" ' «Id6.'? « And what is it, Lanty 1" « I can't tell," replied Lanty, « it's a mysthery to myself. But he has that in hi^ eye that's not luck. What brings him down here so often I'd like to know ?" "Why trout fishen av coorse, what else 1" replied his cpmpanion. **Pshaugh, nonsense. Else Curly, you can't run * Donal' on me that way, cute and all as ye are. That man don't care a brass farthin for the best fishiri in Donegal from Onea river to Malin Head. I see it in his f ery motions. There's not a dhrap o' sportman's blood in his body." " Oh no ! not a dhrap, because he don?t go iBto the doldrums like Uncle Jerry at every 6n lie sees risin above the water, llumph ! pity but he wud." « The fish he'i after don't live in wather. Else Curley, and you know it," replied J^anty, laying his finger on the old woman's shoulder and whispering the words into her ear. « Me !" « Ay, in troth, jist yerself! Else, an(J sorra much iv a parish wondher it id be aither, some o' these days, if it turned out that he was try to buy one Else Curley o* t)ie < Cairn' to bait his hook for hin\ intq the bargain." The old woman endeavored to look as- tpnished at the accusation, but there was ^ faint smile in the corner of her mouth she could not entirely suppress. A stranger would have called it a contortion of the lips, but Lanty Hanlon was an old acquain- tance, and knew her better. "You needn't try to consale it. Else"! replied Lanty, " for do yer best you cudn't consale it from me. I know ye too well, ould woman. There's a sacret about that man and the Lees, and no mortal in this | neighborhood knows it but yerself." *• A. sacret — tut, you're dhramin," re- plied Ejse, turning away and laying her I thumb on the latch of the dour " a sacret indeed, arrah, what in the wide world put that in yer head?" "The fairies," responded Lanty, "hall ha ! will that plaze ye." "Indeed, then, Mr. Hanlon, one 'id! think ye come from that same respectable stock yerself, ye know so much more nor] yer neighbors," retorted Else. " Well, ^ood evenin. Else Curley, 11 must go, for Vve busmess to do, and I find | my company's growin troublesome besides. But take a word o' warning before I start. I If yer bent on maVin money out iv this stranger— and if he's willing to spend it on you and yer sacrets, well and good, Pni content. But listen to me. Else. Make the laste offer to thrifie wid a sartm per- son you know of — say but a wrong word- breathe but a single bad breath, was it as low as the very weasels, and my band on | my conscience. Else Curley, from that mi- nit I'll forget that we were iver acquaint, | and my vengeance will purshue ye both till A CHRONICLE OP INNISHOWEN. IJ the words into her nded Lanty, '^ba!! clay covers ye," ** Why the heavens presarve us, Lanty inlon, vehat d'ye n^ane? You cudn't nk Vd betray—^' ]< Think!" repeated Lanty — "well no |tter what I think, I've said my say," and kin wishing her fair thoughts and a plea- evening, he turned from the door. Ah, the ould schamer," he muttered to iself as he jerked the black-thorn under ^arm, and tossed his rabbit skin cap on side of his head once more, " th' ould ler, she'd betray the Pope if the bribe big enough. And still she loves her — [coorse she does — and small blame to her ler, for there's no Christian crathur iver God's good light that shouldn't love ; and after all I b'lieve in my conscience ^s the only livin thing, barring ould Nan- she iver did love before in her life. But her or hate her, there's one small rai- [she can't harm her, and that's just this [here's a sartin Misthur Lanty Hanlon pese parts won't let her — even set in she'd be wicked enough to thry it. So ^le away, Lanty, the world's big enough re — aye, and good enough too, ye thief only go through it as ye ought with a it heart and honest conscience. Don't my boy ; ye have neither house or 1, cow or calf, penny or purse, and who js! — ^ye have clothes on yer back, bgth in yer arm, a heart without spot or in it, and wid the blessin o' God to ^k ye, what more d'ye want ? So dance aiy, Lanty, and as ye hop through The ires, don't forget to keep yer eyes on the ller," and thus the reckless, light hearted low tripped along the glen, still singing old ditty as he went : The Sassanach villians de'il tare them ! fhey stript us as bare as the ' poles/ M there's one thing we just couldn't spare them, rhe ' Kidug* that covers our souls. Jlight fol de lol o1," &c. CHAPTER IV, It wanted still two hours of sunset, when Lanty Planlon left the light house with the mallard wing in his pocket for Uncle Jerry, His pace was now more hurried and pur^ pose-like than when last seen wending his way through the dark glens. His song too had entirely ceased, and he held his black- thorn staff no longer carelessly under his arm, but grasped it firmly in his hand like a traveller, resolved to let no grass grow un- der his feet till he had accomplished hi»- journey. On passing the road below Else Curley'9 cabin however, he looked up to see if the old woman was in sight, that he might make her a sign of friendly recognition ; or per- haps it was a wholesome dread of a second unceremonious visit from Nannie, that made him turn his eyes in that direction. Be that is it may, neither Nannie nor her mistress could be seen, but in their stead, and much to Lanty's surprise, appeared the tall figure of the stranger, issuing from the door of the little mud cabin, and making bis way down the hill in the direction of the light house. Lanty stopped suddenly, not well knowing what to thick of this. He had seen the stranger a full half hour be- fore quitting Loch Ely, and setting off to- wards Crohan, and naturally concluded he was by that time far on his way home. A moment's reflection however, convinced him that the man must have hid hjmself behind some rock or hillock, and waited then till he could venture up unobserved, to pay his usual visit to Else Curley. This manoeu- vering was by no means satisfactory to Lanty, on the contrary it served greatly to confirm the bad opinion he had began to entertain of his purpose, in hovering so constantly about Araheera point. ' Lanty Hanlon was not an ingredient to mix with the mercury of his nature at all. But the stranger's conduct was so palpably sus^ - ous^ that he could not for an instant resist 13 THE LADY OF THG BSACON OF ARAHEERA, the idea of some plot between hlro and Else Ourley. In the first place, the man had been only two days in the country when he found the old woman out — nay, went as straight to her cabin as if he had been sent there on a message, and since that time visited her every day, remaining with her often whole hours together. As for his pretext of fishing, it was the flimsiest in the world, for no one who saw him cast a line in water, could ever imagine he cared a gray groat for the pleasure it afforded.— ^ Then his close and frequent inquiries about the Lees, and his knowledge of cer* tain private affairs of the family, already communicated to Else Curley — these we say, put together, were clearly suggestive of some secret purpose on his part, and quite enough to raise suspicion in minds far less constructive than Lanty Hanlon's. 6e- 9ides, Mr. Lee was himself a stranger in the place, having resided eighteen months at the light house, and during that time had seen but little company. The peasantry of the neighborhood indeed looked upon him at first as one who disliked society, prefer- ring a quiet life at home to making and re- ceiving visits. Hence they seldom trou- bled him, except on matters of business, and then only as little as possible. To be sure the officers of the Ballast Board called on him three or four times a year, but that was on their tours of inspection round the coast — and Father John was seen too, sometimes trotting down in that direction with his saddle bags bobbing behind him — but Mr. Lee was a Catholic, and Father John was the Priest of the Parish. All this was very natural. But it soon began to be whispered about that Mr. Petersham of Cromer's house was seen occasionally stepping ashore at the Point when out yachting on Lough Swilly— and what look- ed stranger still, taking Miss Lee with him up the Loch to visit his sisters. This lat- ter circumstance led the good people, by degrees, to regard Mr. Lee as somewhat abore the rank of a common light keeper, for Tom Petersham was the crack gentTe^* man of the county, and (though somewhat reduced himself) always felt a peg or two above associating with the squires and new- ly fledged baronets of the district. So they concluded after various speculations and gossip on the matter, that Mr. Lee must have been once a real gentleman, whom reverse of fortune had obliged to ac** cept his present humble situation as a last resource. And so they continued ever af- ter to regard him, saluting him with every mark of respect when they happened to meet about the light house, and never prO'^ suming to intrude on his privacy except to settle their little business transactions, or when he chose to employ their services about the light house yacht. Now, Lanty Hanlon saw all this long ago, and regulated his intercourse with th^^ family* to suit the case precisely. He ask-* ed no questions, made no apologies, camd« and went just as he pleased, and yet as he' often was heard to say himself, knew as lit-^ tie about Mr. Lee or his private affairs as. the blackest stranger in the kingdom 1 Young, active, and fond of recreation,. Lanty always found Araheera Head a ca- pital spot to indulge in his favorite pastime of gunning and fishing, and shortly afte^ Mr. Lee's arrival found that gentleman fond of the sport as himself. And thus an intimacy grew up between them all at once — an intimacy by the way which each felt it his interest to cultivate — Lanty for sake of the light-keepers influence with the neighboring gentry, in whose power he of- ten unfortunately found himself, and the lightkeeper for the sake of Lanty's skill as a sportsman in his frequent excursions on Lough Swilly. Besides, Lanty kept a pair of black-greyhounds, the best ever ran on four feet, and the terror of all the game- keepers in the three baronies. These ena- bled him to supply his friend with ** hare's ear" for his flies, and if the truth must be told, with haunches for his table too, oc- casionally, without troubling his conscience ^^'Mniiii.i„m.i WWWWW M l ^ll l IWl'l " A CtttlONldLE Ot iNNtSH0W£i9i IS pt^i\y about tlie infraction of the game hws. Then he was moreover an excellent shot With either rifle or hireling piece, and could hag a hrace of grOuse or wild ducks Oil seasif& or mountain as prettily as the best landlord's son in the parish ^-always remembering to reserve the winss for Mr. Lee's and Uncle Jerry's fly hooks. Some- times toO) the light-keeper would find a white trout for breakfast of a morning or a salmon for dinner, without any distinct re- collection of having caught them hhnself or bought them from any particular fish-haw- ker in the neighborhood. For reasons such as these and others quite unnecessary to mention, Lanty soon became a constant and welcome visitor at Araheera Head, and indeed finally grew to be so special a favor- ite with the light keeper that he could hardly prevail on himself to take his boat or gun without Lanty at his elbow. He even offered him a salary larger than his limited means could well afford, to live with him altogether, but Lanty invariably re- fused, preferring a free foot on the hill side after his dogs, and a ramble on the sea shire with his rifle, to all the inducements he could offer. These rambles, however, often brought him into trouble ; but if they did, he always depended on Mr. Lee to get him out of it. On such occassions the honest light-keeper would bluster and swear as stoutly as a Dutch burgomaster, never to speak another word in the villains behalf, should it save him from the gallows, and often went even so far as to order the members of his family never to let the scoundrel inside his doors again, but some- how or other these resolutions never held out — all his indignation seemed to vanish ia his sleep — and before the sun got up on the following morning, he was«ure to des- patch a note to Tom Petersham or some other gentleman of the neighborhood to beg their interest in the unfortunate fellow's behalf. Lanty in fact was never out of scrapes for a week together since Mr. Lee first saw him. He had cither fallen foul of a bailiff, or beat a policemai), br cudgeled a game-keeper, or speared a salmon by torchlight, or stole a game cock, or— some- thing was always sure to be wrong, when- ever he was absent three days at a time from Araheera Light^House. Intimate, however, as Lanty was with the family, he knew nothing of their histo-> ry save what he picked up from an odd word dropped now and then between Mary Lee and the light-keeper, or between him^ self and old Boger O'Shaughnessy, when they went up the tower of an evening to chat and trim the lamps together. What he learned from the latter however was ne- ver very satisfactory, for Roger considered himself too respectable and important a per-" sonage to hold much confidential intercourse with a light-headed scatterbrain like Lanty Hanlon. But whilst Roger said little of the family connexions directly, he indulged frequently in little sneers at the pretensions of the Donegal aristocracy, wondered where in the world they found the arms on their carriage panels, and if they didn't one and all inherit their gentle blood from * Shamus Sallagh' or Oliver Cromwell. This contemptuous way of speaking about his neighbors was plain enough and Lanty understood it. The nobler families of the south was a subject on which Roger loved very much to descant in a sort of solilo- quial tone, when he sat down of a summer's evening in the lantern to burnish up the reflectors with Lanty by his side. Many a long sigh would he draw talking over the olden the olden times, when real lords and ladies used to throng the halls of a certain castle in the south (surrounded by their servants in splendid liveries) to drink the choicest wines or dance to the music of the old family harp ; and if his companion ven- tured to inquire the n&me of the castle or of its owner, little information would he get from Roger O'Shaughnessy. Still studi- ously averse as Roger was to the revela- tion of ^mily secrets, he could not hide from his quick-witted companion the con- 14 THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEER4. ■i h ■j elusion warranted by his frequent though indirect allusions. Besides, Eoger always Wore a curious old fashioned coat when serving dinner, which contributed more perhaps than any thing else to enlighten Lanty as to the antecedents of the famiiy. This coat was once a bottle green of fine texture, as might be seen by those shady little corners here and there where the sun had not been able to peep into, nor the Vrear and tear of half a century entirely to deface. With^a few redeeming spots like these however excepted, the rest of the gar- ment was faded, threadbare, and polished as the cuff of a sailor jacket. The high stiff collar, the buff facings, and the long tails would have plainly shewed it had once been livery, even if the two lonely gilt but- tons on the high waist behind bearing the family crest had been lost and gone with the rest of the brotherhood. Every day before the little bell rang for dinner, did Koger divest himself of his working dress, brush over the few white hairs that still re- mained to cover his polished scalp, and then put on his bottle green livery with as much care and tenderness as if it had been wove of spider's webb; Poor Roger, many a scold he got from Mr. Lee for keeping up his ridiculous old notions, and many a laugh had Mr. Petersham at his profound saluta- tions, when he came ti visit the family — but laugh or scold, it was the same to Ro- ger — on he went practising the same old habits despite every remonstrance. This obscurity in which the history of the Lees was involved, coupled with the mysterious conduct of the stranger, led Lanty Hanlon to suspect some deep plot- ting between him and Else Curley. As for the latter he had little fear she would take part in anything directly tending to bring misfortune on* the light-keeper or his family, but still she might meddle so far with the danger as to bring them into trou- ble without actually intending it — and all for the sake of gold, to obtain which he well knew the miserly oJd creature was prepared to run any risk, even that of her salvatioit.l <unl^isbetl case had lost all its polish j sind its edges were stripped and lean like the elboiArs of an old coat. Still though both were broken down and someWfaat shabby ,^tliej wer^ ciiian and decent, like old gentlemen who bad ^een better days. And there too, near the fire-place, sat the high^backed. sofa with its heavily carved feet and double rows of 16 THE LADt of THE BEACON OP A-RAUEERA. iff j9t f P I brass nails along the edges. But conspi- cuous above all appeared the oW fallnily Bible lying in state upon the centre table under its vellum cover and iron clasps. Everything in the room spoke eloquently of the past, for everything looked ancient and renerable, even to the bird cage over the window where the grey linnet sat dozing with his head under his wing. That apai'tment, dear reader, was an epitome of the history of T; eland, and might have furnished materials for a finer alle- Sorical picture than ever Claude Lorraine rew— Iier heroes without a name or monu- ment save those poor rotting shreds of can- vass, — ^the fire of her music dying out day by day, nay— alas that we should say it, — almost as cold and dead as the blackened embers on her desolate shrines — her once brave and stalwart sons now wrapping their emaciated limbs in their tattered garments and resigning themselves without a struggle to serfdom and the grave. Had the author of the " Giaour," who could see even in the fair but. lifeless form of woman the picture of "Greece, but living Greece no more," had he lived to sit there and gaze around him, how much more sublime the inspira- tion he had drawn from the sad and crumb- ling relics. Yes, the nation was still liv- ing, but all her glories, save the glory of her faith, had departed. But the stranger's heart was not one of that moulds On the contrary, he scanned every article of furniture in the room, with a cold, prying curiosity, that accorded ill with theiasluonable sporting dress he wore, and having at last completed his survey, drew his chair to th^ centre table, and opened the sacred volume. Had he been a lover of old books, he might have paused to examine the title page^ before he proceeded further, and the eurioudy illuminated letters it exhibited, but especially an ancient and copious note in the margin purporting to show that the book was printed at Madrid in the year 1467, by a nativeof Me>itz, at royal re- quest — a fact which might have greatly suirpt'ilsed those French and German litera- teurs who claim for Louis XIV and Fre- deric II the honor of having been the only patrons of the art before that period. But I the gentleman was either not of that class, or he was ignorant of the Latin tongue in I ithich it was printed, for he ran his eye hast- ily ovet the page, without seeming to notice I either date err language. Without pausing a moment he turned I over leaf after leaf, glancing merely at the top and bottom of the pages, and evidently in search of something he understood was to be found there. He spent some five or six minutes in this search, and at last hav- ing discovered what he sought, drew from his breast pocket a small book of tablets, copied what items he thought necessary, | and then hastily closing the Bible (stealth- ily watching the doors of the apartment all| the while) clasped it as before. It happened in replacing the book he I dropped something on the floor, and instant- ly picking it up, found it to be a silver beaded rosary with a gold crucifix attached and of exquisite workmanship. The image was of the purest gold, the nails in the! hands and feet were diamonds of great bril- liancy, and the cross on which the figure I hung, ivory inlaid with some precious me- tal and bordered with small but costly I pearls. It was evidently the relic of som^ pious ancestor two or three centuries back for the beads were much worn, and the edges of the cross bad lost their original sharpness and grown round and smooth from the wear and tear of years. It was curious to see how the stranger smiled as I he held up the sacred triiiket between hisl finger and thumb. A child could have! read in his countenance how little he re- spected either the image or the reality — ^^| tho cross or the crucified. Whilst engag- ed, however, in this contemptuous inspec- tipn of the venerable and precious relic,— I the sneer on his face, growing deeper as he | gazed,-«he was startled by a shadow sud- A. ClinoNltli; i-),r :)NNJ»H0WKN. 17 bt have greatly id German litera- j XIV and Fre- ing been tbe only that period. But I not of that class, Latin tongue in I ic ran his eye bast- seeming to notice I ament he turned I ing merely at tbe leSf and evidently t understood was pent some fite or , and at last hav- )ught, drew from book of tablets J iought necessaryil he Bible (stealth- the apartment all| jfore. :ing the book he I I floor, and instant- t to be a silver I crucifix attached ship. The image the nails in the I onds of great bril which the figure | me precious me- small but costly I the relic of som6 ee centuries back t worn, and the 3st their original und and smooth f years. It was ranger smiled as I iket between his I lild could have! [)w little he re- or the reality — Whilst eugag-j emptuous inspec- precious relic, — I wing deeper as he ly a shadow sud-| «lenly darkening the window, aind turn- ing to see wha,t it iwas, beheld the same countenance which smiled on jliim from the stern pf the little boat an kour before, peeping through the glass.. Tjie iiace . wa^ so close to the window ihat t^c stranger might jiave seen from its flushed appear- ance, he had been mistaken for some la- miliar friend w\v)se visit had been expect- ed. The sii^e light troubled her so much at first tbat she could sec nothing distinct- ly in the room, and raising both hands to shade it off, happened to throw back the broa^ bri^imed hat she wore, and thus re- vealed in full view ,to tlie stranger, now advanced within arms' length of ll^e win- clpwj a countenance of extraor<]inary beau- ty. But there was little leisure left hin;i to gaze upon it — for in ano.tlier second the laughing girl had discovered her mistake, a^d startled by the close proximity of a face so utterly unknown to her, and tremb- ling yril^h tihame and confusion at her ap- parent levity, she Ipounded back as if a spec- tre ^ad confronted her, and flew away from the lyindow like an alfrighted bird. The stranger called to her to stop and listen to his apology ; he knocked on the glass, and even attempted to raise the rash sa^d fpllpw her, but all was in vain — away she ran over the green lawn, her dark tress- es streaming back on the gentle breeze, and disappeared over the edge of the pre^* cipice. For an instant the disappointed sportsman stood spell-bound, hardly able to tell whether the form was a visipri or a reality. An^ no wonder. — Her figure so ligl^t and airy, her extrei^e grace of j|;notion even in the confusion and hurry of her flig|)t,and the exquisite beauty of her mo- dest face, might well indeed have xaised suc|i an jillu^ion in minds far ^ore philoso- phic than the stranger's. And ^9V again all was still as Jiefore, not a sound was to be heard but the sullen break of the sluggish waye against the rocks, or the occasional call of the little proud bantam still scraping on the green. Tl The sun had sunk |»y this time within an liour of his setting und crowned the far off summit of Benraven with |;olde9 liffht,. The sky was cloudless and the air as balmy as the zephyrs that p4ay round the Hitn- Jinakyas and fan tlie banks of the ancient Hydaspes. Stealing out froin under the shadows of the inland appettted ^e white sails of the coasting vessels, vvith scarce wind enough to give them motion,— so calm had it grown for the last hour ; and away beyond them in the west rose the dark fonp of the Horn, round whose top the wings of countless sea birds might be seen wheeling and glinting in the rays of the setting sun. The scene was as grand and picturesque as one might care tp look ^ipom, and yet it seemed to awaken but little interest in the stranger. Indeed the sullen look of disap- pointment on his face as he gazed through the window on the world without, showed but slight relish for the poetry of nature. At last turning away abruptly from the casement when he saw there was no likeli- hood of tbe young )ady returning, he re* traced his steps to the hall door, and was just about to foUow the visionary iforin to the edge of the rock, when to his great re- lief he heard the sliarp crack of a rifle within twenty paces of where he stood* Looking in t4ie' direction of the sound, he saw smoke curling slowly up from the sea, then a water spaniel sprang on the t)ank and .began to shake the brine from bis drip- ping sides, and finally, a man in a pea jacket with his pantaloons rolled up over the tops of his boots and a gun in his hand sHclden- ly made his appearance. He was appar- ently about fifty years of age, stout and hearty lookinj^, and carried in his face as he approached the stranger a look of wel- come which it was impossible for a moment to mistake. " Good eveniAg, sir," sfiid he, touching his hat to his visitor, hardly able to utter the words, so .exhausted 4vas he in climbing up the rock. The straoger slowly introduced his arji^ 18 THE LADY OF THE BEACON OP ARAHEERA. I"- ii under liis coat tails and made a grave and \ respectful inclination of the head. " Sorry you found no one in the house to bid you welcome," said the stout gentle- man, wiping the perspiration from his face. ** Hay ther think the apology should come tb/B other way," replied the stranger, drawl- ing out his words* **Qh! don't mind that, sir, don't mind," ejaculated the, other, "when you found ij^ody in the house, you did perfectly right to iQfdce yourself as much at home as " Mr. Lee, X presume — the gentlemt^n here in charge ]" <^ The same, sir, and ^ite at your ser- vice- — that is as soon as I can manage to cf[[tch, breath again. IJeigho ! By George I iiavVt gone through as much these ten years before. That confoi\nded Ho^l^an- hawk has the nine lives of a cat — and — and I TftrUx believe a few to spare besides. Phengl*! heugh!" you cart no more pierce that bird Mri^h abali thap you can a piece of floating carj^^ieood." i,f<,Cap't,eh1». « No, sir, it'& impossible. I'm living %^. eighteen moaths, or thereabouts, and dMrjng that time I can safely say I wasted mor?., powder oh him than would blow up the tower," " Well, look here, why not snare him?"* <* Snare him I" « Why, yes, trap him by night, since you can't shoot him by day." " Oh, tut, tut ! no sir, the bird's game. Moreover, you might as well try to snare a fox in a marketplace." " Well, take him flying nnd meet him with the ball," said the stranger, now thrusting his hands deep into his breeches pockets, and hitching up his cap behind with the collar of his coat ; " seen swallows killed that \yty." « What, swallows with a ball ?" " Yes, sir, boys can do it in the section of the country where I was raised." The light keeper turned a sharp, search- ing eye on the strann;er, and scanned him from lioj^d to foot without spying a syllable in reply. The last word soun,ded odd to his ear. In fact it suggested a sort of vegetable idea, and the figure of the man who uttered it helped tO: give that idea, ridiculojus as it was, something of a specific form. The truth was, his tall lithe figure, freckled face, and long, straight, sandy hair, i]nade up a parsnip or rather carrotty kind of personality that tickled the ligh.t-^ keeper's fancy very much and made him laugh.. " Well," said the stranger, mistaking^ tbe laugh, " it requires considerable experijei^ce, I allpw, but still our boys can do it, and as to that creetur there, I guess I can hit him, flying myself." " Flying ! ha ! ha I my dear sir the bird never flies." ** He's got wings, ha'n't he ?" *.* Can't certify as to that," responded the light keeper, " never saw any at l,east — and what's still mpre remarkable,^ he never quits this shore." " Why, you don't m^an that there p^ti- cular bird, do you ?" " That identical bird, sir, responded ^e light keeper, pointing with his finger. " He's got a mate, I reckon, and goes, off once in a while, doa't he1" '^.^ A CHRONICtE OF INNISHOWEN. IBt not snare himi"* :ar sir the bird " No, sir, he has no mate — never had inyi" interrupted the light keeper. " Excuse me " said the stranger, at- tempting a smile, " I'm not long in this section of the world, I allow, but 1 guess ['ve bden raised too near one Fhincas Bar- ium, you might bear of, to believe such a story as that," and the speaker thrust his lands down lower still into his pockets, ind looked knowingly at the light keeper. " I know nothing of Phineas Barnum," responded Mr. Lee, grounding his ritle and Iresting on the muzzle, ** but I repeat to lyou, nevertheless, that the bird you see {(loating on the water there before your [eyes, has never been out of this bay for the llast eighteen months, and during that time jwas never seen in any other creature's [company, man, bird, or beast." " Shoh, you don't say so — summer or jwinter V* Why, I ray ther think that's im- Ipossible aint it 1" " Summer and winter are all the same to lUiw," rej)lied the light keeper, " I have Iscen him in January when the storm threat- le^ed to blow the lantern oif the tower, and I the sea to wash this little island and all it |coi[^tains into the deep ; I have seen bim ■at such times sitting as calm and composed Ion the swells of the sea as a Turk on an lOttoman smoking his pipe. He's the sau- Iciest viliian that ever swam, sir — look at lliim now beyond the boat there — see how Ithe rascal comes sailing up to us like a sw^p, with his arched peck and look of IproHd deliance." " Is the piece loaded 1" inquired the [stranger, in a quiet modest tone of voi.ce. " No, sir ; load to suit yourself j there's Ithe gun, and here's the powder and ball. jBy George, if you kill him, I'll say you jare the best marksman in Donegal." ^ My name is Weeks," said the strao- Iger, slowly drawing the ramrod. "Mr. jEphraim Weeks." ** Weeks," repeated the light-keeper, I "rather a scarce name in this part of the world." "Well, yes J I guess so — Ephraim C. B. Weeks," he added ; Mr. Robert Hard- wrinkle of Crolian's my uncle, sir. You're acquainted less or more with the family I presume ?" " Have heard of them sir, — and quite a respectable family they are, by all ac-> counts." " Well, yes ; pretty much so, I reckon, for this part of the country — should be happy to see you at Crohan, Mr. Lee, whenever you have a leasure hour to spend. My cousins often wonder you ha'nt called and brought Miss Lee with you of an even- ing." " Your cousins are said to be very pipus and of high literary acquirements," observ- ed Mr. Lee, not appearing to value over- much the invitation so unexpectedly a^jd patronizingly tendered, " and I lear quijt^ out oi Miss Lee's sphere and mine. We^ are plain people here, sir, unambitious oC further intercourse with the world, thaf)i what chance brings in our way. Are ypu ready sir 1" " All ready ; and now have the goodnevi, to remain just where you stand and look straight in the bird's eye, whilst I take aim." So saying Weeks knelt down, and resting the muzzle of the rifle on a projecting rock waited in that position for nearly five min- utes, giving the bird time as he said to for- get there was a second party in the play. " Now, then," he cried at last, hold your hand up, to attract his attention," and as. Mr. Lee complied he took deliberate aim, and fired. " Capital shot !" exclaimed the light- keeper. " Capital shot, by George, — not the first time you handled a rifle I suspect." " We-ell no — not exactly the first,'* drawled out Mr. Weeks, with a modest complacency that well became his graye- sallow countenance, " I've handled tbe,ar-> tide more than once I guess." Both now looked anxiously round, where- the bird might be likely to ri- ". but no birc^ came up to dot the smooth «» face of* the- 20 THE LADT OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. 1 ; water. f.f " Down rather longer than usual," said 1 1 t^ light-keeper, at length breaking silence, [i ** and that's a sure sign you havep^t touch- ed a feather of him." "Guess you're mistaken," responded Weeks, " he's floating out there somewhere as dead as a door nail. Ah ! by cracky ! there he is, lying flat on the water: sec!" — and he pointed with one hand while he \ t shaded his eyes with the other — "see, ij!j there he is^" f; "Wheire? Ah, yes! by George! and there he is ; well, now, who could have thought it !" exclaimed the li«;ht-keeper, seemmgly much delighted with the disco- ;i very. /;j The object, however, to which the stran- l ' ger painted happened to be a little whitish colored buoy, a few fathoms beyond a boat, that lay anchored within gun-shot of the islapd. As it rpse and fell on the light swells of the sea, it looked by no means unlike a dead bird floating on its back. Mr. Lee saw the ipistake in an instant and resolved to humor it. '"Dead as a herring 1" he exclaimed, taking off his hat and rubbing up his gray hair in an ecstacy of delight. " Ha, iia, the rillian^ he's «aught at, last." " He'll never trouble yo^ again, Pll bet," continued Weeks, coolly handing over the rrflet Then 'laying hfs hand quietly on Mr. Lee's shoulder he added, "I make you a present of the bird, my friend, for I really 'diink you deserve it richly, after such an almighty waste of powder." The light keeper gravely bpwed his thanks. "Well, there's one condition i would make, Mr. Lee, and I kinder think you'll not object to it, namely, that you stuif the .creetur, and hang it up here in the passage ximong the fishing rods and jack-lines." " Certainly, Mr. Weeks, most certainly, :sir, your wishes must be gratified." " And look here ; you'll have the good- fiess fo use this for a label," antl he drew a card from a richly chased silver case hcl carried in his breast pocket and handed ill to the light-keeper; "affix this if yonl please, to the upper mandible, .that yourl visitors may know vtho shot tlte hird — not! that I care to make a personal boast about! it— -for di^l you know ^le well, yo^ wouldl say it ever there was a man who ^eq^isedl boasting, that man is Ephraim C. B.I Weeks. Bui I've a notion, somehow, thati it would be just as well for tl^e European! countries here to know what sorter people | we are in the new world beyond, and I con- sequently think its the duty of every free- born American, wherever he goes, to en- lighten mankind as to the character, enter- prise, social advancement and universal in- telligence of his countrymen. Yes, sir, its I a duty our people owe to oppressed and I sufi*ering humanity to make their habits, manners, customs, laws, goyerninent and policies known throughout the universal creation. If it be our duty as a nation to redeem the world from ignorance and sla- very, as it is, beyond all question, then I say its the special duty of each ai|;id every | citizen of that nation to contribute his por- tion to the advancement and final comple- tion of the great work. We ngiyst be known, sir, in order to be imitated. As the speaker went on to develop bis views on this great scheme for prqm,Qting I the moral and social welfare of the human family, the light-keeper held the card .out before him, and read in bronzed copper- plate the following address : Ephraim ,C. B. Weeks, Dycksville, Connecticut. ." Humph.! By my word of honor," nat- tered Mr. Lee at last, " that's a very magr nificent affair." Then running his ey^ over the person of his visitor, he see^^i^l somewhat nuzzled what to say. Thecafd case protruding from h.is pocket,' the rings on both hands, and the massive watch chain ro.und I^is neck, were alj apparently of the costliest description, and might wejl have adorned the person of the highest no- ble in (he land ; on tho other hand, how- A CHRONICLB OP INNISHoWEM. 21 irWt it struck him th«re was quite a cor^ trost between the gentleman's language and srsonal appearance. How that happened le was at a loss to think, and therefore it ras lie made no reply, but kept ^ancing from the card to the stranger and Irom the itranger to the card. " X rather think, Mr. Lee, you hav'n't ict many of our people in your time, eh 1" The light-keeper replied in the negative. ** Well, sir, you now see before you a Ireal American — a free born American, sir, -a citizen of the great " Model Repub- lic," and the speaker again thrust bis hands Jinto his breeches pockets as deep as they Icoiild well go, shook up the silver at the Ibottom, and with a self complacent smile on Ibis thin lips watched the light-keeper's ] countenance for the effect of the startling [announcement. But Mr. Lee did no more than merely Icompliment him on his birth place, assur- ling him at the same time, he should always I feel honored, as he did then, in making the acquaintance of a citizen of the republic of Washington, the model republic of the world. ** But with respect to the stuffing," Jbe continued, endeavoring to restrain a (smile, ** I fear there is none to be found I here who understands it." ** Well, send it up to Crolian, I shall see Ito it myself; guess we Yankees know a lit- Itle more of tliose things than you do here I in < the green Isle.' " " No doubt of it, Mr. Weeks, no doubt lof it — I'll send it immediately, and consid- jer it a very special favor indeed." " Now then, talking of Americans," said I Weeks, arresting the light-keeper by the arm as the latter began to move towards the lodge, " why don't you bring some of jour men over here to enlighten you ? You have natural talent enough, I guess, if you'd only proper means to develop it. Could you only get up an association with funds enough to pay Yankee lecturers, yon would soon wake up to a sense of your capabili- |t\es. Employ our lecturers, sir, and send them over the country, from town to town and village to village, and I'll bet a four- pence they'll open your eyes wider than ever they opened before." « Don't doubt it in the least," modestly replied the light keeper, ** but won't you come in, and have some refreshment after your evening's exerciso — come in, sir, and honor my little cabin with your presenco at least." ** Hold on," said the American, again detaining the light keeper on the steps of the threshold. ** Look here a minute, if you're not in a killing hurry. I should like to say a word or two about shooting that Holland Hawk,— it may serve to sbow you what kind of people we are in the States. Well, — to begin with, we calculate never to miss a shot at either man^ bird or beast. You may smile, sir, but its the fact, never- theless. My mother had a cousin once, called Nathan Bigelow — " ** Excuse me, Mr. Weeks — let us step into my office, if you please ; I've some or- ders to give — allow me — for an instant." " Well, look here," persisted the Yan- kee, '< its only a word or two. I was just agoing to say that my mother hada cousin^ once, called Natl\jsm Bigelow, and a shrewd man Nathan was. Well, he was said to be somewhere about the shrewdest in that section of the country. So the folks thought all round. If there happened to be town meetin, Nathan was sure to be chairman. If referees were appointed by the District Judge on a heavy case of dam- ages or the like, Nathan was always called in to settle it. Then he was consulted by half the farmers round, coming on seed time, and by the select-men about the tax- es, and sometimes by the new minister about the doctrine best suited to his con- gregation — though the fact is, Nathan never cared much for any particular kind of religion himself — that's a fact. So, as I was going to remark, cousin Nathan had a favorite saying of his own — " " Hilloa, there !" interrupted the light- 22 tHE LADY OF tHE BEAdOfi Of ARAHEfiUA- V I M m I": keeper, <* pray excuse me, Mr Weeks— hilloa, there ! I say. Are you all deau in there ? Roger ! let some one see to the lantern; its almost lighting time. Come in, Mr. Weeks, and take a seat at least." « Wait a minute— well, as I was saying," he continued, still drawling out his words slowly, " as I was sayingj cousin Bigetow had a favorite saying of his own. * Take good care, boy, and don't waste your pow- der.' It always came ready to him, some- how, and he could apply it to every which thing in creation. Many a time, in the lonff winter nights, when cousin Nathan used to sit by the log fire in his great rock- ing chair, reading Tom Paine's * Age of Reason," and Martha Froudfut, his wife, knitting her stocking right opposite, with the * Pilgrim's Progress' open on the ta- ble before, and vour humble servant in the comer, studying his book-keeping-many a time, T say, did cousin Nathan turn round to me, without the least provocation in the world, and begin to illustrate the old max- im, * Take good aim, boy, and don't waste your powder.' He made a well, he made it a kind of text to spin a sermon from, and a better sermon he could preach, ay, by a long ch&lk, than the best preacher in the district. He used to tell me, Nathan used, and if he did once he did a thousand tifties, that the old saying, simple as it sounde" had more genuine philosophy in it thin .ristotle and EpictetUs put together ; aiid let me tell you, Mr. Lee, cousin Na- than had a terrible regard for these same authors — translations of courise, for he was no great hand at the dead languages, com- ing, as he did, from the old Puritan stock — his great grandfather was a true blue May Flower. Well, Nathan was, to be plain about it— well, he was a caution I tell you in the philosophy line. He never pro- fessed much admiration for any but for great men, and these were what he called ticklers, because as he said himself they were the only men that ever tickled huma- nity in the right place, namely Tom Paine, Benjamin Franklin and Geo>*ge Washing- ton. George, he thought was the greatest man ever the world produced — and I guess, Mr. Lee," said the sj^eaker with a knowing I look, " if he didn't hit the mark, he hit | somewhere within a mile of that neighbor- hood." " Very true," assented the light keeper, *' he pertainiy did. Washington was a great and a good man, all must admit that; and I trust your nation, in the first flush of | its prosperity will not forget his wise coun- sels either." " Hope not ; well — what I was coming at, Nathan's old saying, < Take good aim^ boy, and don't waste your powder,' so con- stantly repeated, made a lasting impression on my mind. The fact is, Mr* Lee, he had a way of saying a thing that— -well kind of burnt it into you like. There Was no for- getting it nohow ; it was sort of searing of the— ^' " Oh, botheration to him I" exclaimed the light-keeper, no longer able to endure the tiresome description, chained as he was to the speaker, " what matters it what he was, he's dead long ago, I suppose, and gone to his account. But you'll excuse me, Mr. Weeks," he added a moment alf- ter, " you'll excuse me, Pm entirely igno- rant you know, of your national character- istics. When we're longer acquainted I shall understand you better. And now my dear friend let us step into my room*-— but hold ! who comes here ? — by George it's Tom Petersham in the * Water Hen' to pay us a visit." CHAPTER V. The little craft which so suddenly ar- rested the light keeper's eye, as he turned to enter the lodge, was already within five minutes sail of the long flight of steps lead- ing up from the base of the rock to the light house yard. She was a yacht of small tonnage but elegantly moulded. Her white hull almost as low as the water and her light raking spara gave her a jaunty A CHRONICLE OF I^^'1SH0W£N, 28 suddenly ar- e, as he turned hooky that seemed to please the Yankee |exceedingly. " Why by cracky that's an American Iboat, rig and hulP^ he exclaimed, *Mia! I jswoDnie ! — had her built at one ofour ship- frards, I guess." ''She was built in Cork harbor," replied Ithe light-keeper. " Timber or plank, mast lor spar, there's :i0t an American chip in Iher." «Not,chr ' " No, sir, she's Irish every inch of her, from the truck to the keel. Tom Peter- sham wouldn't own her if she was anything * plaints. ** Och, och !" said he at length when he recovered a little breath, " the Lord be with the time. Captain Petersham, (bowing with great formality to that gen- tleman,) when Roger had plenty of ser- vants to help him him* But sure there's no help for it now, and as I burned the candle I must burn the inch," and so saying, the old man turned to quit the room. " Stop, Roger, hold on, what have you got herel" demanded the light-keeper, holding up the decanter between him and the light. »* There, sir?" <* Yes, here, sir 1 look at it." ** Why it's brandy, av coorse — what else shud it be 1 but may-be it's wine yer honor wants — ugh I ugh ! — ^what kind of wine id you like, sir t V\\ bring it immediately." " Wine ! you old schemer, you know there's not a drop of wine in the house." " Me :" " Aye, you ; you know it well — nor hasn't been these twelve months." "Och, och, the bad luck tousT'ex-i- claimed Roger^ raising his hands in grave astonishment, *< it's wondherful---wondher- ful entirely. His mimory's clane gone, sir, (turning to Captain Petersham), It's only the matther of four weeks, or so, since we got— let me see— ahem ! ahem !---two pipes IT claret—one Madeira," and he began to count them on his fingers— ^^ ahem I two if claretf— one Madeira-*-one— " " Don't mind him, don't mind him," said the captain, rising from his eas^ chair an4 good naturedly laying his band op Roger's shoulder, < •* Is this all the brandy you have in the house ? Answer me, yes or no." '** Ahem ! Answer you yes or no, why av coorse I'lF answer you— that is, if I only knew what you mbne." « Well, look here," and Mr. Lee step- ped over to the old man, and shook the de- canter Within an iuch of his eyes, " you call this brandy?" " Sartinly, fcir, the best cognise, it cost just sev^n — " " Never mind the cost ; you have here about three thimble-fuls or thereabouts — for three gentlemen.'^ * H "No, sir, there's a good lialfboitle, and more — ahem! ahem ! it looks little, but it's! on broad bottom, hero, its a broad bottom,! sir. M " Well, now I want to know— if you've any more of the same left— that's plain | enough, I think." " Why dear me, such a question, och,| och — and two casks untouched in — " " Hold your lying tongue and answerl me, sir, have you ? yes or no." " Yes, yes, puncheons of it." " Go fetch it then, forthwith — go nowl instantly," and he pushed Iiim gently tow-| ards the door. " Sartinly, sir, sartinly," replied Roger,! moving of off* as fast as his old shaky limbs would carry him, the long sVirts of his old bottle green coat, oscillating as he went. " Most sartinly, sir, it's aisy enough to do that — why, if 1 only knew tvhat in the world ye were comin at, all the time, i'd| h^ve it here no\v»" " He's the greatest old plague, that, in I the whole universe," said the Tight-keeper: " not a respectable visitor ever com^s to see us, but he acts just in the sai^e way. He would make you believe, Mr. Weeks, — (Captain Petersham here, knows all about him long ago,) he would make you believe his master as rich as Croesus, and staying down here only by advice of his physician. You observed the old bottle green livery he wears, well he has vorn | that, toray own knowledge, five ?ii^d twen- ty years, and in all probability, his father I before him, fpr as many more.' As for this antiquated p^ece of plate on the table, he | bnngs it out on every possible occasion. The old coat, and the old salyer, are in I fact his great standbys, and with these, he imagines he can make a show of 'dacetacy,' were the house as bare ai^d empty as the ruins of Baelbec^ " Ha, ha, poor Roger," laughed the cap- tain, " he's a regular Caleb Balderstone." " Precisely — the only difference perhaps — that Caleb was a conception, and Rog- A CHRONICLE OP INNISHOWEN. 27 er, a reality." " Balderstone," fsaid Weeks, " let me see, worn't he something to the Balders- tones of Skowbegan, down east." " Ha, ha," chuckled Captain Petersham; « can't say, as to that." "Well, them Balderstones of Skowhe- gan were tremendous smart men, I tell you, and cousin Nathan says, they fought at Lexington, like tigers and catamounts." " No no, Caleb was of quite another character," replied, the light-keeper. " He was born of a wizard, and shall live as long as the world lasts. Some, indeed, go so far as to^ say, that he and CampbelPs last man, are destined to expire together." " Weill, he*s not a mortal, I reckon." "No, sir, he's immortal as the gods." During the latter part of the conversa- tion, Roger O'Shaughnessy had returned as fhr as the room door, and remained standing on the threshold, for a minute, or more, lookhig in. In the attitude he as- surned, he presented a striking appearance. His once tall, and powerful frame, now bent and wasted with years, — the old laced coat hanging from his attenuated shpulders in en^pty folds, — the few white ha'iirs that still reniiained brushed up on each side, and meeting in a crest, over his polished scalp ; looked in truth like a fine old ruin, totter- ing to its fall, with all its friendly ^vy dead in the dust, save a few weak, but faithful tendrils clinging to it still. " Excuse me, Mr. Lee, for interrupting you," said Weeks, " but the old gentle- man here at the door seem3 to want some- thing." « What f Roger, is it— well, Roger," demanded the light-keeper, speajcing over his shoulder, " what's the matter V " Ahem !'^ said Roger, " ahem •'' about the brandy, youk* honor." " Well — about the brandy — ^where is it ---why don't you bring it in ?" " The key — ahem ! the key of the cel- lar, sir," said Roger, without venturing to look at his roaster. "Whatofitr " Ahem ! It's not to be found, sir, yon ,or Miss Mary must have it." " Me! I never touched the key in my life," "Bear me, then/ exclaimed Roger,, "what's to be done, your honor 1" Th* brandy's in the cellar, and there's no key to open it." " I don't believe a word of it, Roger ; but did you ask Miss Lee for the key ?" " She's not to. be found, either, sir.'* " Ha, ha J— I thought sa^ I knew all the time it would come to that at last." " If you coul.d put up for this time with some of the best old Innishowen, that ever was doubled," said Roger, " yoH can have a hogshead of it in a jiSjy.'* " Innishowen I" exclaimed the captain, " and put up with it, too t Nonsense ! non- sense ! Roger, bring it in here instantly. Why, you old villain, it's worth, its weight in gold« Compare French brandy with Innishowen poteen, indeed ! Why, the Irishman who wou4d* do that, should oe sent to the stocks, and physicked with fi:o^ and assafoetida. Begone, and fetch it instant- er. Away t my time's up. "^ Roger soon, returned with a bottl^ of ex- cellent whiskey, of which we must not pmit to say, Mr. Weeks declined to partake- nay, lie absolutely rejected it in the most positive manner, as a thing entirely against his principles and entirely contiiary to his habits of life. But the light-keeper and his good neighbor, the lord of Castle Gre- gory, made no pretensions to such princi- ples or habits ; they filled their tumblers and drank to each othef, and to the suc- cess of the Stars and Stripes, as a comply ment to Mr. Weeks, in full bumpers of Irish ffroff, without fdacor shame, reproach or remorse. Captain Petersham had scarcely finished his draught, and flung the tumbler- on' the table, loudly protesting against all State Temperance Laws and Teetotal Societies^,, as being the provocation of half the drunk* 28 THE LADY OP THE BEACON OP ARAHEERA. cnness ia tlie world, when a sailor, cap in hand, presented himself at the door. " How BOW, Bradley— what's the mat- ter/" ** Mr. Eatlin says, there's a blow comin up from the westward, sir, and in half an hour we'll have fibh tide. He awaits or- 4«ps,'» '* Well, get the boat ready. I'll ))e with y^u in a second." He now approached the window and gl^veed for an instan( at the west. " There it comes, Lee," he exclaimed, tumbling vp in lumps over Tory Island ; you'll have it whistling about your ears here in half an ^oiir. I must get aboard the * Water Hen' and pack on ^ail* or she'll not fetch Balgnus-treken to-night. But look here, who's that under the rock, there, speaking %o Mistress Maryl He's a devlish fin» booking pupg felloW) that, eh !" T\ui light'^kQep^r hastened to the win- dow* ^*Hahf by, George," he exclaimed, mtUtering the words to lumself, the instant his eye rented oq the perso(i alluded to, ¥ Hah, ha,^ so then he is back again." « Who IS be, Lee-^e|^--surelv I've seen that young man before — yiho is he ?" ^r. Lee smiled and shook hi? head. « Oh, hob, that's it, is it? Very well, S^ll right," said t!^e captain, *^ if there's any thing particuld^r about him keep it to your- self." ''And having reauested Mr, Lee to make his a;«ology to Mary for running away 80 abruptly, ap j invited Mr, Weeks to Tiait IIS soon as possible, be hurried off without further delay to his yacht. The moment his foot touched her deck, sl^e was (seeii crowding on every stitch of canvass that would draw, und then gracefully bend- ing under the gentle pressure of the even- ing breeze, the little * Water Hen' glided up the Swilly and soon disappeared in the ^eepeqing shadows of Eathmullen blufis. The light-keeper had accompanied his friend to the head of the steps to bid him i;ood bye and a fair voyage, and the Ame- rican taking advantage of his absence, in* stantly turned to the window and there kept watching Mary Lee and her compan- ion so intently, and with so absorbing an interest^ that old Eoger had picked up his silver card case which had fallen from his pocket, and laid it on bis knee, without his having noticed it in the least. The spot on which the young couple stood convers- ing, was a small patch of green sward di* rectly above the narrow channel called the Devil's Gulsh, and canopied over by a long Hat, projecting rock. The place was some seventy feet above the roaring water, cut as it were in the face of the precipice, and nearly on a level with the window at which the American sat looking at them so in- tently. The distance between them was not more than thirty feet ; yet near as it was, Weeks could have distinguished little more than their mere outlines had not th« great lantern^ now lit up, shed its flood of light full on their persons, revealing every motion and every feature distinctly to his gaze* There was a shade of melancholy on the handsome face of the young man as he lean- ed on tho boat-hook with which he had climbed the rocks, and conversed with his fair companion. His black, waving hair fell in profusion over his blue jacket, from the breast i^ckvts of which the silver mountings of a brace of small travelling pistols glinted in the clear lamp*light. His neck was entirely bare, as if the heat of the day or his previous exertions had obliged him to remove his cravat, and his whole bearing and deportment were that of a brave, self-reliant, fearless young fellow, of honest heart and ready hand. Mary Lee stood by his side, dressed in her green kir- tle and straw hat^ the picture of aogelic loveliness. Her face, always smiling be- fore, was now pale and thoughtful, as if the melancholy which shadowed the counten- ance of her companion had touched her heart. Her petite figure, as she leaned lightly against the rock, her modest eyes, on. A cMRomctt: 01^ tNNlSHOWl!!V« $9 bent on ilie grisett il^s at her feet, hir long aobttrn ringlets raRing in skowers ovW her shutltders, and abote atl, her unaflected simplicity of manner, gare her a striking resemblance to those beautiful creatures which Raphael paints in his Espousafs of the Virgifi. Once or tvi^ice she raised her efes to thdse of her companion, but shef as often turned them away, as if (he sadness of his looks gare her pain. His gestures and motions were those of entreaty — but she, on hfer part, appeared to make no reply*-- save to shake her head and look up sorroif- fully in his face. At length the voice of the light-keeper was heaM round the house, caNing her in from the approaching storm, and she eould stay no longer. As the mo- ment of parting came, she drew from her bosom a little scapular and pressing it de- voutly to her lips gently threw it over the young man's neck. She then gate him her hand, and bidding him farewell, sprung round the edge of the rock mth the nim- Uencss of a fawn and disappeared in atf instant. Her companion followed her with his eyes as long as she remained in sight, and then carefully concealing the little treasure she gave him in the folds of his breast, slowly turned and left the place. « Well," said Mr. Weeks to himself as he turned from the window and leaned his elbow on the table beside him, " she's a handsome gal, that — no mistake about it ; and that filler looks to be a party smart kinder chap, too, and not ill lookin, either. But who in creation is he ? There's 6ome mystery about him, that's sartin. I could see that by the light-keeper, when the cap- tain inquired his name. But never mind, hold on for a bit, I'll soon learn the secret from mother Curley. That was some cbarmj I'll bet a fourpence, that thing she put round his neck— some papistry I reck- on. But aint she all-fired brazen faced, to go up there right straight before the win- dow t-->.By cracky, they do up that kinder business sorter strange dbwn here in these diggins — they're ahead of Nuw Jersey by a long chalk, itut after alt^ perhaps it'» her favorite retreat, and (he feller foiMfd her there. She expected him«'-sartiB. 1 saw (bat ht her feee when she camfe peek- ing in at the window^ and I rather susf ect she worn't aware of Captain Peter8hMtm'» arrival either, or that Ephraim Week» wa» in the office with her uncle. Well, she'^» handsome^<4baf s tt fact— and' witfc those hundred and iifty thousand dollars I know of to bdck her up, she's wife enoogb for any man. Ah, she little thinks what be- longs to her tother shfe the bigpoidi — wtA she won't notber— (itl she's got her nose up to the hitchiii po»t. She'n be sfeiltasl^ I guess, 0t first, but I'll take the old wo- man's' advice tmd coax hdr* t& it gently. She can onYy refuse, do her best, and when she does, why it'is then time enof^h to put the screws on. They're poor as Joh^ti ttif- keys, that's clear, and it won't bever]^ iMdli to comer them up' in a tight pAieev A month or two in limbo would settte the of A chap's Iig]it-keepin, and then t%egiri^p>nmd and all as she is, might be glad " Here he wa:i» suddenly interrupted in Viii< reifections by the entrance of tbe tw6< persons in whom he seemed to be SfO'deepl; interested. " Here's an hnpudent, sducy Ifttle bag- gage, Mr. Weeks, who deserves to oifer you an apology for her dog's vwy bad be- haviour, to-day," said the l%Bt-keeper^ leading Mary in by the hand. " Miss Lee, sir, my sister's only daughter. Mary, this: gentleman is Mr. Weeks, of Brakesville^ Connecticut, United States." " Ducksville, if you please, Mr. Lee,. not Drakesville," said Weeks, after one of his profoundest inclinations to the young- lady, "the difference aint much, but still — '* " O excuse me, excuse me, sir," said tlie light-keeperj "so it is — I made a mis- take — Ducksviile, my dear. State of Con- necticut." " Allow me to offer you my card,'* said Weeks, smiling faintly and patronisingly on the young gin, as he drew it slowly out 30 THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF ARAMEERA. It 4 ■i' I »fi' ■ §'..:■ i'"' I from tll^ silrer case* ,«} .,i .. . ?.<< Tliank you, sir," she replieJ, nibdestly curtesying and accepting the favor, with- out the least sign oif surprise at the strange- ness of the compliments " I regret very much, sir, the loss of your fishing lines this evening,'^ she said, but, if you permit me, I shall replace them," "Pray, don't mention it," replied Weeks, interrupting her. "You^re exceedingly kind. Miss Lee, but I assure you 1 have lots of such traps to spare, and should, if any thing, rather decline*" *' Drake is a very bold fellow in the x^a'- ter, sir, and don't mind his mistress in the lea^t, when there's any thing like game to be seen. But then, he's so good and faith- ful that that We must forgire him a great manj faults. Drake, Drake," she cried, " where are you 1'* and as the brown curly haired old fellow came in, wagging his tail, she ordered him to kneel down before the gentleman 4ind ask his pardon. But Drake, instead of kneeling as, no doubt, he was taught to do on such occasions, began to growl at the stranger, and woidd probably have sprung at him to tear him, if Mr. Lee had not promptly interposed his authority, and commanded him to leave the room.^' "How very strange," said Mary, speak- ing to her uncle, " I never saw him act so rudely before." " Some kink the old fellow has got in his head. But I fear Mr. Weeks will find his first visit to us down here a very dis- agreable one, so many things have conspir- ed to make it so. First, the loss of his fisfh- ing tackle and his fine trout, to boot ; — then the absence of the inmates here, and his having to sit so long alone before any one came to bid him welcome — and finally, the unkind and ungenerous behaviour of Drake ; why, upon my word, Mr. Weeks, you must think Aralicera light a very bar- barous place to visit." "^Ohj don't mind — don't mind," replied Weeks. " I can get along, I guess, most any where. We'll make it all right yet. As for the loss of the flies and casting line, I feel quite pleased about it, since it has procured me the acquaintance of so lovely and accomplished a young lady as Miss Lee." Mary blushed, hung down her head, and tried to say something ; bnt her confusion at so blunt and unexpected a compliment silenced her completely. The light-keep« er, however, came to her assistance. " If you talk to her in that style, Mr. Weeks," said he, " you'll play the deuce with her^-- see, she's all over blUshes alrea- , dy." " We-U, 1 generally calculate to speak to the point, Mr. Lee. . It was always my hahit to be frank with every one, and I can safely say, I should be most wilUng to lose all the fishing tackle I ever ownea, for the pleasure afibrded me by this introduction ; she^s a most beautiful and amiable girl — there's no mistake about it ; — and I'm not ashamed to say so, though you are her uncle." „jji^, " Mary, the gentleman will set you crazy, if you stay here much longer — away with you," he added, patting her affection- ately on the cheek, " away into some cor- ner, then, and hide your blushes ; Mr. Weeks will excuse your further presence ;" — and dropping her hand he permitted her to shrink back and glide away like a fairy out of the room. " Well, I guess I sha'n't wait much longer, either," said Weeks, picking up his cap and preparing to leave. ^^ I see the storm's coming on, and I've ^ot some- . what of a walk before me ; but I was just a thinkin to come down here once in a while to have a day's fishin or so, and a talk about the United States at our leisure." The light-keeper smiled and assured him he shoulu je happy to see him at any time, and cheerfully do all in his power to make his visit to tlie country, and particularly to Araheera Head, as agreeable as possible. " And look'e here, said Weeks, button- ing his coat, " if there's auy thing I can do A CHRONICLE OF INNlSHOWEN. 31 io oblige you in the way of friendship, jon't. hesitate an instant, but tell me right i out. It may happen you'd want a friend's advice, a — well, no matter, you understand me. I'm a single man, Mr. Lee, and have a leetle more at my banker's, I guess, than I've any particular occasion to use. Good lafterooon, sir." '*Good bye, and thank you for your rood will," said the light-keeper, some> [what surprised at the stranger's liberality. " I shall most assuredly consult with you, Ir. Weeks, when occasion requires it." "I say, hold on!" said Weeks again, turning back when half way down the ave- lue, ** that bird, you'll not forget to send ft, eh ? — all right ; guess I can get it up for fou in pretty good shape." And waving liis hand, he set out on his journey to Cro- I, the residence of the Hardwrinkles. CHAPTER VI. ** Ha^ ha ! very well, I declare ! and so [here you are at last !" said uncle Jerry, raising his spectacles to his forehead and beering at Dr. Chamberwell as he entered [he room, a few days after the events re- ited in the last chapter. ** Good morning, sir, how d'ye do ?" said |be doctor, << any calls since I left 1" << No ; none but Lanty Hanlon," replied [r. GuirLie, pulling down his spectacles [gain, and resuming his employment, <^ and lere's a mallard wing he brought me," |ointing at it sideways with his eye, " not rorth a brass button." ** Don't doubt it in the least," observed be doctor, <* couldn't expect any thing ise. » « Why^just look at it. Mrs. Mother- fs blue drake out in the yard there has etter feathers for a June trout by all Idds." *^ It looks like the wing of a young gray irkey, don't it 1" " Upon Biy word it's a fact— the spots are as big as the point of my thumb) ererj one of them." « Well you'll find Lanty out yet, some day or other I suspect," said the doctor, sitting down on the sofa apparently much fatigued. '< He's the most bothersome fel'- low in the parish." ** It was about the child he came," re- sumed Mr. Guirkie, " I had almost forgot- ten it, about that widow woman's child down at Ballymastacken." « What's the matter with it 1" " The measles," responded uncle Jerry. "The measles!" <^e been disputing halhar^ « Very well, it's not my fault if we have. I'm sure I never dispute with any one, ii I can avoid it." <: No ; but still you manage to do it, not- withstanding," said the doctor. " Never, upon my word and honor," re- plied Mr. Guirkioj <' except when it's for- ced on ine. (There now that hook's as blunt as the very beetle^'^ and he flung it pettishly into the grate.) " I can't sit pa- tiently by, and hear the man still contend- ing that a red hackle is the besf in May ai^d June. You wouldn't expect that, I suppose. eh .?" " He must be very unreasonable,*' yawn- ed the doctor, his e>6s half closed from fa- .tigup and, want of sleep, for he had been up all niffbt. *' Yes^ indeed, very unrea- sonable.'' <=< It Was actually presumptuous, consid- ering all my experience to the contrary." The doctor made an effort to open his eyes and nod. **. I tried to reason him out of it. Upon my word, I reasoned with him as mildly as I would with a chiid, but you might as well reason with a madman. Why, sir, he's as wrong-beaded as a mule, that man, humble and all as he seems. He's a cheat, doc- tor, that's the whole sum and substance of it," ffOh, well," s?iid the doctor, rousing himself a^ little sind speaking in a half irrit- able, half conciliatory tone, j^let him have his own way ; the point, after all, is not of vital interest to any body, I suppose." " Nq, i^'s of no great consequence, lal- Iow»" said un^le Jerry, raising his specta cles a second time to his forehead and look- ing across the table at the doctor in a manner more impressive than usual. '* No, sir, I admit that freely, but the man is ex« { ceedingly presumptuous — remarkably so, for a stranger — aiid I'm miich mistaken, doe tor, if you yourself, with all your stoicism, would surrender to such a person without protest. Moreover, sir, the gentleman- if he be a genthman — should avoid pro- voking me to &r£;nroent in my own house where he knows ue has me at a disadvant- age. I say, doctor, it was very indelicate of him, think what you please about if. ^^ ** And why do you let the man trouble you at all, if you think so little of him i" "Trouble met Oh I I decbre," ex clai v-?.d uncle Jerry, taking off bis specta- cles at lust and pitching them on the table with a very dissatisfied air, for he was evi dently disappointed in the little interest his friend seemed to take in the subject.- " Trouble me — why, I vow to goodness, he may go to Halifax and fish for sculpins if he likot for aught I card one way or other. But am I bound to adopt his errors against both reason and conscience, am I ?" " By no means, why should you ?" " Very well, then," replied Mr. Guirkie, " that's all I want to know," and as if there was no more to be said on the subject, he reached over again for the spectacles : " I know it's quite right that every man should choose whatever side of a question pleases him best ; it's republican and democratic, and has always been iny way, and ever shall as long as I live ; but still I have no hesita- tion in saying this much, doctor, that it's morally impossible for the man who never ties a horn on a hare's ear, because the na- tural fly don't wear horns except in July and August, I say that the man who main , tains that doctrine, never caught better than graculs or shiners in his life< That's precisely what I think of it, and I shall take occasion to tell the gentleman so at our next meeting." f = "Shall I bring in the breakfast?'.' in- quired the housekeeper opening the door softly, and waiting til! uncle Jerry had iiii- yawnl "Yof your[ mighj i( the for ai ^■'«^'A GHRONICfcE OP INNiSHOWEN. ^^ « an usual. " No, t the man is ex« einarkablysoyfor mistaten, doG- lH your stoicisnii person without he gentleman — ' lould avoid pro- my own house iit a disadvant- is very indelicate ease about it."" , ■ the man trouble! mile of him r I declare," ex- ig off his specta- liem on the table r, for he was evi- little interest his | in the subject — )W to goodness, he I li forsculpinsifhe e way or other. t his errors against :e,am I?" lould you V^ >liedMr. Guirkie,| wr," and as if there on the subject, he I lie spectacles : "I every man should a question pleases n and democratic,] ivay, and ever shall I have no hesita- 3, doctor, that it's] e man who never ir, because the na- is except in July lie man who main , irer caught better ) his life< That's f it, and I shall gentleman so at 3 breakfast?" in" opening the door icle Jerry had fin- ished before she interrupted the conversa- tion. " The breakfast !" he repeated, checking nt once the current of his thoughts and looking across at the doctor, now fairly a- doze on the sofa. " The breakfast ! I de- clare that's a fact ; well, now, upon my word, I'm the most selfish, thoughtless man in the whole world. There he hus been out at siok calls all night and hasn't had a mor- sel yet to break his fast. Certainly," he replied, noddjng at the house-keeper, "cer- tainly, ma'am, send it in by all means." When the door closed, Mr. Guirkie again resumed his employment, making oc- casional {remarks, now and then, oi) the quality of the crottel, hare's ear, tinsel cat- gut and the other various requisites for fly dressing. These observations' he intended should reach the doctor, but they did not; for the doctor was asleep. At length hav- ing finished the task and put up the mate- rials m their usual place, he came round and touched the sleeper gently on the shoul- der. ** Wake up," said he, " and prepare for breakfast, it's just coming in. But how is this, doctor? why dear^me I now that Pm near you, one would think you were after a week's march in the Indies. I declare a Sepoy after a three day's drill couldn't look worse. A tedious one, I suppose ?" " Very," muttered the doctor ; " very bad, indeed." " Don't doubt it in the least, yoq look like it." « Shocking." ^r-fim'fi " I declare .' and it detained you since midnight?" '*Yes, I left here a few minutes after twelve, with Father John," he replied yawning and rubbing his eyes as he spoke. " You heard the dog bark at the time under your chamber window-*'^-! was afraid he might have disturbed you." " Heard him ! why he set all the dogs in the parish a barking, and they didn't stop for an hour after. I declare he's the most unreasonable animal in that respect! ever heard, at home or abroad. Still iCs a concientioMs matter with hiip 1 8Up] " I must see her immediately." ' ''^!' ■ " Upon my word I believe she's more pf an angel than any thing else," said the doo* tor. « She is one I tell you— t|iere's no doubt of it whatever — you can see'it in her face." " So you have seen her, then. I thought 34 THS tAOT Of THfi BfiACON Off AnAHCCRA. ■M /QU had oerer called at tlie light-bouse iinee thii new keeper came." " Neither bare I. 'Twas at the chapel 1 flaw her— and that^ onl/ for a second or two* 8he was kneeling before the picture of the Virgin, and I declare, dancing from one to the other, I could hardly tell which was the lovelier. I hare never forgotten that face since for a single day, — it haunts ine sleeping and waking, every feature of it aieems to me just as familiar as my own." . ,** It was really one of the most beautiful sights I ever saw," continued the doctor, *' to see her kneelii^ tl^ere ou the cabin floor administering relief to to the poor sufferers. She looked to me the very ira- i|ge of a young sister of mercy I used to see long ago, glidiog round the sick beds io t^ "bvmfk hospital/' « So Cu^l of piety, and «a gentle," said uncle Jerry. . f^^es, onee as she touched the parched Imp jM the little cabin boy, with a spoonful 01 wise and water, her tears fell on bis face, it was iinpossihle -^" « i know it," s/iid uncIelJerry, ** it was impossihte to look at her, witbout^-*'bero, without feeling— hem, it was very affect-^ n mg/ The warm drops as they fell made him ra^.his eyes to her %e, and then such a loc^ of love aD,d gratitude as be gave her, I neffer saw on human face before." ^ It^s the goodfi^ss of God, doctor, that iptfi^ us such creatures, now and again to reconcile us to our humauity." « Ciertaiiily." « We siioiild otherwise forget ow desti- 1^ ^together*" "No doubt of it." " He scatters them over the dark world, here and there, to brighten and beautify it, as.,1^ scatters the stars over the clouded heaiyeQs." "fettt to return to the sufferers," said the doctor, afraid Mr. Guirkie should fly off into one of his rhapsodies, " one poor fellow, a negro,; WHS all but dead when I left." '!><.. ** Dear me ! all but dead." <* Yes, and had seven of his toes broken besides." " Lord save us I — seven toes broken !— that's frightful," exclaimed uncle Jerry. ** Four on one foot, and three on the other." " Most shocking ! — and what makes it still worse, he's of the despised race ; but the rest — where are they 1" ** In the cabin." « What !— all huddled up together, the living with the dead." ** Why, there was no other plaee to put | them — no bouse, you know, within a mile of the strand." J " Oh, no I of course not ; whgr should there !" exclaimed uncle Jerry, a little ir- ritated at the disappointment. ^'Why should there 1 No, no, there's sever any thing where it ought to be. I believe in my soul if there bad been a Iukmc, net a shipwreck should ever have have happened within leagues of it." *^ Don't doubt it in the least," assented the doctor. ** Cross purposes, sir, tbnt'is it, cross pur- poses — every thing in creation pulling against every other thingi^ It's outrageous — no houses there, where of all places in the world it ought to be">^ declare to my cooscknoe it's insufferable.," " I know it," said the doctor, " it's to» had to be sure, but so it chances to be." ** Chances I nonsense — there's no such thing as chance—- don't believe iait at all.'* Ar*d clasping his hands round his knee, he lifted up his Httle leg, and commenced rocking away in bis chair — a habit he had when any thing troubled him. He asked no more questions ; what he heard already supplied him with materials enough for a picture-'-and he drew it, and gazed at it, till the tears fell in big drops on the carpet* He saw the poor wrecked sailors, stretched on the damp floor of the warren-keeper's hut, as plainly as if he had been there in v^« '4^ A CURORICLfi or 1MRI8H0WCN. what makes it ipised race; but up togelber, the least," asseoited penon standing otm tbeiiL.'^ ** Welly there's no use in fretting about it," said he at length, letting his leg fall, and looking oot at the rain pattering; against the window panes, *^ it can't be helped I suppose. They'll die, everjr soul of them, for want of good fresh air aiid kindly trcat- metit. I know they will. Can nothing be done 1 I wish to heaven I was there my- self j but Where's the use of wishing any thing about it ; the doctor would nfrver consent to it in sucb a storm as this. So here I must wait patiently I suppose, and make the best of it. Aa for that negro, Imb'II die ; oh there's no deubt of it in the world: he^ll die, of course, just because he is a negro, and na one core for him. As for Maiy Lee, she may be a tender heart- ed genlle creature as ever lived, and no one who ever saw her once*, could think atberwise ; but she's a timid fawny thing I (ear, and won't venture near enough, to wet his lips with a spoonful of sangaree, or whisper a kind word in his ear, to keep his heart from sinking. Ay, that's the effect of d black skin — always, always. It was I just so in St. Domingo and Alabama, and I all over the world. But never mind, nev- er mind, there's a good time coming. It won't be so in heaven, ha, ha," and Mr. Guirkie rubbed his hands smartly together, and chuckled at the thought, *' no, no, that's one comfort at least, it won't be so in hea- ven »>. ** Why, dear me ! there's the doctor fast asleep !" exclaimed the house-keeper, lay- ing down the tray with the breakfast on the table. << Please wake him up, Mr. Guir- kie, he needs some refreshment, and should take it hot." " Never mind him," replied uncle Jerry, a little impatiently, " never mind him. Go away, Mrs. Motherly, if you please, and don't jar the door. I'll wake him the next time he turn over ;" and wiping his specta- cles with the tail of his morning gown, he commented reading a newspaper that lay OB the table* Now it happened the poptp was a week old or more> and Mr. Guirkie had reaA it over, advertisements and all«, a good, half dozen times ahready. For it being the only paper taken at the cottage, he always tried, as he said himself, to make the roost of it. It was not, therefore, with a Imw either to entertainment or information that he snapped it up so suddenly as he did, but merely to divert his mind from thinking of the wrecked sailors, and particularly the negro with the broken toes. Mr. Guirkie, as the reader may have suspected, was genr tie and fvill of tender sympathies, and whem a case with any thing peculiarly melnncho» ly in it, like the one in\ question,, chanced to get hold of bis heart, he nev(er could manage very well to shake it out of it. It was only, therefore, with the desperate hope of excluding from his imagination the picture he had drawn so vividly but a few minutes before, that he clutched the paper so vigorously between his hands and ran his eye so rapidly over the print. It hap- pened, however, notwithstandmg the effort he made that his success was by no means complete, for he soon began a sort of loir dry whistle without tune or music to it, evidently intended to help the newspaper^ When he had read down half a column or more with this accompaniment, he found it^ as be always founded it before, to be a total failure, and that do what he would, the pic* twre Icept always breaking in upon him.. At last, unable to resist any longer, he flung the newspaper on the floor, and starting up< in a sort of desperation, paced up and downi the room, his slippers clattering the while- against his heels and bis hands as usuaV clasped behind his back. ** Mr. Guirkie," said the house-keeper,, opening the door gently, **Mr. Guirkie.'* ** Wbdt," said Mr.. Guirkie,, turning on his steps and throwmg up his spectaclea from b»s forehead till they were lost in hi& bushy, gray hair, " what's the matter 1" " Lanty Hanlon's come for more of that medicine, sir, and says the child's doin M THE i;.ADY or THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. Ijravely, and sir, lie brought ye the other iring of the wild duck." " Mrs.. Motherly," said uncle Jerry, ap- proaching the door and drawing himself primdy up, " Pni engaged* Don't you understand ? I'm engaged ma'am." Yes, sir, but- » ■ ^* Well, but, ma'am, I'm not to be im- posed on. That feljow has had more gin already than would cure half the parish— r* quit th^ room, if you please, and tell that scoundrel to quit the house." 'Again Mr. (ruirkie turned to the win- dow and.looked out qn the stormy sky, mut- tering to himself all the while in short, eja- culatory sentences. At first they were low and hollow, but grew more audible and the words more distinct in proportion as the picture before his mind's eye grew darker. ** Oh nonsjense," said he at last, in a de- clamatory whisper, for he was still afraid to wftke the doctor. ** Nonsense ! nonsense ! there's no use whatever in attempting it. And what's more, there never was any use. It was just so, always, just the same old stopy over and overag^in, and I verily be- lieve < Pm a greater fool now than I was twenty years ago, Last week I couldn't rest till I saw that distressed widow, just as if k were my business to console widows, jtrst as if it ought to concern me a copper, whether uer landlord ejected her or not. But the explanation of it all is, Mr. Jere- niiahGuirkje, since that's the name you like \to go by, the explanation of it all is, that you're an incorrigible simpleton. Yes, sir, that's the short and long of it. And I saw that very word, last Friday on the doctor's lips, when I gave Lanty the half crown tor the hackle, as* plain as the light there, only he didnUlet it drop. Well, he thought so, cf course, why shouldn't he. For ever meddling with other people's business, and neglecting my own. And how, here comes that shipwreck just at the heels of the Weeks' affair to worry me again. Well, Jill we can say about it, let the negro die, — why ilot, he's not the first that died neg> Iccted. And why should it concern youFl he continued, stopping short and looking at himself in the mirror above the mantel, ff why should it concern you, sir, one way or other ? You're mighty charitable, ar'n't you? Takaiia friend's advice, sir, and mind your own business : you'll have plentj^ to do $ ay, and if the truth were told, more than ever you did do in your life. Of all the people in the world, you're not tlie very man expected to keep the life in these | sailors or solder new toes on that unfortu- nate negro, are you ?" Here the soliloquy was interrupted by the doctor speaking in his sleep. Mr. I Guirkie turned his head slowly around, and stood in that twisted position for a second or two, looking at the dreamer and waiting | to catch the next words. There was wonderful deal of benevolence in his face I as it thus appeared ill half profile. The I little round blu^ eyes so full of soft dnd gen- tle expression^— an expression which his re- 1 cent effort to steel his heart against the in- fluence of pity had not abated in the least, the small mouth with the corners turned slightly up, like uncle Toby^s when listen- 1 ing to Corporal Trim, the smooth, unwrin- kled, rosy cheeks, and stiff gray hair stand" ing on end, all tended* to convince the be* holder, of Mr. Guirkie's eccentric habits and kindly nature. Again the doctor muttered something, | and then Mr. Guirkie moved gently over and bent his head down to catch the words. *^ The negro I the negro !" ejaculated the sleeper. a That's it— the negro, of course," re- peated uncle Jerry. " He must die — that's what you mean." f' Mary Lee," continued the dreamer, " warm blankets !-rthe decoction I" and ab- ruptly turning on his side he concluded with a groap that told how fatigued he was, af- ter the labour of the previous night. " Very well," said Mr. Guirkie, kicking ofThis slippers, *^ that puts an end to it* i f A*' A CHRONICLE OF IMNISfiOWEN* :Tf?? tf rst that died neg- it concern youT"| ort and looking at bove the mantel, roil, sir, one way have no longer a shadow of doubt about my obligations^ It's evidently my duty to go down and tisit them. That's as plain as the sun> and the doctor's dream is clear- ly providential," and sitting down on the chair he put on his shoes, and then drew over his leggings from the footstool.- *ut of the window, << I don't care a farthing about it, one way or others Neither the heat of Indies nor the cold of the Canadas has taken a feather out of me, yet» I'm just as good for all practical purposes as ever I was. To be sure it rains and blows hard and fast, but I'm no sugar loaf to melt in the rain, nor a jack straw to be blown away with the wind." Talking in this strain he put on his leg- gings. But he put them on as he always did, in a very careless, slovenly sort of way — omitting a button here and there in his I way up to the knees. This time especially he was in somewhat of a hurry, and his thoughts had nothing whatever to do with the buttons. Next he opened his desk as silently as possible, and took out what seemed to be a pocket book, looking round stealthily at the doctor as he secured it un- der his vest, and finally retired to his cham- I ber to don his seal skin cap and drab sur- tout with the double cape, a riding dress I he never laid aside summer or winter, and from which no one in the neighborhood ever thought of dissociating the idea of uncle Jerry Guirkie. These hasty prepa- rations concluded, he stepped on tiptoe from the parlor and closed the door noise- lessly behind him, leaving the doctor sleep- ing soundly on the sofa, and the breakfast I cooling beside him on the table. On reaching the house-keeper's door, I however, great as his hurry was he paused and seemed to deliberate. He was think- ing whether he should apprise her of his intended journey, or steal out unobserved. There was danger both ways. If he told, I slie might wake up the doctor and detain hiu) ; if he did uot, his abbcnce m awh stormy' weather might occasion alarm for his safety.' Three or four times he cough- ed and hem'd slightly at the threshold, bringing his knuckle each time within an inch of the door, and as often drawing it. back. At length, however, the fear oC giving alarm predominated, and summon-^^ ing courage, he knocked— but it was a knock in which there was no sign of autho« rity — or rather it was the gentle tap of a child coming to beg alms at a getttlemaii'& back door 4 , ., «* Mrs. Motherly !" said he putting hi» lips to the key-hole and speaking undet! his. breath, " Mrs. Motherly \ I'm goiog oirt at little, but you needn't disturb yourself. ; I don't require your services in the least— not in any possible way whatever." But Mrs. Motherly knew better. She had lived now nearly five years in< the fami- ly^ and understood Mr. Guirkie well, and all about him. Her long residence and her well known fidelity ;^ave her a respectable claim on his consideration, which indeed, however inconvenient he often found it^ he never failed to acknowledge. For a long^ time after she bame into the family, Mrs> Motherly kept continually remonstrating with Mr. Guirkie on his foolish ways, as- she loved to call them, and frequently when provoked would venture ev6n to scold him sharply, but still in a respectful and affec- tionate manner — sometunesfor his reckless neglect of his health,^ sometimes for spend- ing his money on objects undeserving of , charity, (for uncle Jerry had the Imbit of slipping a sixpeiM^e now and again to the beggars whom Mrs. Motherly thought it her duty to drive from the door,) but most of all for his inveterate disregard of hi» dress and personal appearance.* Of late years, however, she had given him up in despair ; relinquishing all hopes of ever be- ing able tocorrecthim, andcame at last to the wise conclusion that destined as she was to remain a fixture in the place, and since she could not reform him, why, like a pru* dent woman) she would let him have his 38 THE LADY OF THG BEACON OF ARAHEERA. own waf &n4 try to do the best she could for him. StUl there was one Kttie pecali- ar% in Mr. Guirkie's conduct, especially for the last year or so, which Mrs. Mother- ly fiometimes found it rather hard to put tip with, a^d that was, bis want of regard for her feelings in presence of third parties — 4the doctor and his sister of course ex*- cepted-— this was particuHarly the case when company happened to be at the house or when bechanced to come across her any where beyond the walls of the cottage. — Alone with her at home he was as tracta- ble as a child ; for the fact was, and it may as well be told sow as again, the fact was Jie feared Mrs. Motherly* It's no doubt a lamentable admission, but not the less •true for all that. And the reason was clear:: Mrs. Motherly was a woman of such excellent qualities in her way, that uncle Jerry loould not help entertaining a great respect for her-; then she took such a live- Jy interest in his affairs that he felt she had a good right to his confidence, and he yielded it willingly ; and last of all, with all her humility she had such force of cha- racter, that he generally found it easier to submit than to quarrel with her« • Whether •our readers of the stenier sex — and we write down the word sex in order to save it from growing entirely obsolete— 'whether they shidl lerer agree to adopt Mr« Guir- kie's rule of conduct in this respect as the «af«st and wisest is more than we dare to predict ; but still we might venture to say, judging fr«m the present aspect of things and making all necessary allowance for the lirogressive spirit of the age, that such a revolution in the ordinary relations of life would not, after all, be so very extraordi- nary aa«^nt. In the bouse and alone with Mrs. Mo- therly, uncle Jerry as we have said already was as tractable as a child. H« would turn back at her bidding, were his very foot in the stirrup, and sit dowa to ht her sew a button on his shirt or tie a more be- -coming knot on his cravat — nay, sometimes when hard pressed, would hand her his purse for safe keeping — a precaution, by the way, she generally took when she sus- pected him of going up to the Blind Tid- dler's in the Cairn or down to the widow with the three twins at Ballymastacken. From home, however, or in presence of strangers, he was qnite another man. On such occasions, his whole bearing towards her underwent a change. He would draw himself up to the very highest stretch of his dignity, address her in a dictatorial tone, and otherwise deport himself towards her as if he regarded her in no other light than that of an ordinary waiting woman. When any one about the table cnaaced to make honorable mention of Mrs. Motherly, which indeed those who were aware of un- cle Jerry's little weakness often did for their own amusement, it was amusing to see then how the old man would part his lips, throw himself back, and admit with a pa- tronizing air, that she was — really was an honest, trustworthy servant — had her little whims, to be sure, as every one had— but, nevertheless, was a right trasty and obedi- ent housekeeper. ' This change in Mr. Guirkie's conduct towards her, Mrs. Motherly was for a k>.ig time unable to account for, and the anxie- ty she felt about the cause of it was far more painful to her than the thing itself. — The secret of all was, however, and the reader must be told it by all means, the se- cret was, that uncle Jerry's friends were in the habit of plaguing him about Mrs. Mo- therly ; that is to say, about certain little leanings in that direction. They tnade no direct, specific charges — not one — ^but they kept forever indulging in sly winks and inuetfdoes, which mortified the poor man nrach more than plain downright accu- sations. Amongst these friends, Mr. Tho- mas Petersham, or Captain Tom Petersham as he was generally called, held a conspicu- ous place. Mr. Petersham, as the reader may have seen already, was a good natured, jolly sort of a roan as one might care to A CHRONICLE OF INNISHOWEN. **'**'* lid hand her his -a preeantion, by >ok when she sus- to the Blind i^id- nrn to the widow Ballymastacken. )r in presence of nother man. On I bearing towards! He would draw fhest stretch of his I dictatorial tone, self towards her as 10 other light than [ig woman. When chanced to make Mrs. Motherly, nrere aware of un- less often did for Wis amusing to see »uld part Ins lips, admit with a pa- s — really was an nt — had her little y one had— but, trusty and obedi- jrttirkie's conduct rly was for a lo.ig r, and the anxie- se of it was far he thing itself. — wever, and the all means, the se- 's friends were in about Mrs. Mo- tut certain little Theytnade no —not one — but ing in sly winks >rtified the poor downright accu- riends, Mr. Tho- Tom Petersham I held a conspicu- m, as the reader s a good natured, le might care to meet with any where. He cracked a good joke, rode a good horse, kept a good table, »ung a good song, sailed the fast yacht between Fanit Point and the Skerries, and never looked or felt happier in his life than when he had uncle Jerry at his elbow to hob-nob with him after dinner. This gentleman had so often plagued Mr. Guirkie — and he did it in a quiet, provok- ing way, his eye sparkling the while with the spirit of the grape and mischief toge- ther — that the good little man at last thought it prudent to assume a cold and dis- tant reserve towards his respectable house- keeper in the presence of strangers, in order, we suppose, to oft'set disagreeable suspicions. Now of all men in the world Mr. Guirkie would be the last to think of such an attachment. The thing was en- tirely out of the course of his thoughts ; or if the idea ever could by any chance cross his mind, he would very probably, walk up to the looking glass and luugh himselt out of countenance for entertaining it for an instant. He was now sixty years, but as hale and hearty as he was at twenty-five — a wealthy, happy old bachelor, who had tra- velled half the world over — been in all sorts of society — studied men and books till he grew tired of both, and at last set- tled down quietly at Greenmount, resolved to spend the remainder of his days and his money as far away from city life as possi- ble, without the remotest idea of ever changing his condition. As for Mrs. Motherly, poor soul, the thought of a nearer or holier relation be- tween them than that of an honest, faithlul servant to a kind, indulgent master, never entered her mind. She never, to be sure, looked on herself as an ordiuary house ser- vant. She was above that, both by early education and household accomplishments, and she knew it; and every one else knew it just as well, the moment she made her ap- pearance. It was as plain as the alphabet. Her clean white apron, her neat well plait- F ed cap, her bunch of polished keys at her girdle, and above ajl her intelltgent, re- spectable countenance, bespoke at once her authority and the right she had to exercise it. As for any thing ^beyond that, she never dreamt of it. And so uncle Jerry and Mrs. Motherly lived very happily to- gether, each well satisfied with the other, the latter yielding a reasonable obedienee and the former exercisinj; a reasonable au- thority. If any thing ever did happen, once in a long time, to create a little dryniess between them, it was sure to be that unfor- tunate habit he had of treating her Unkind- ly before company. In vain did she try to shame him out of it, when she had hin> to herself all alone of a quiet evening after tea — he with his flies and she with her stocking sitting cosily together; in vain did she draw on his nice sense of propriety to rebuke him, nay, sometimes when ifibre than commonly provoked, actually charge him to his face with having taken an nn- gentlemanly advantage of her position to mortify her. All was in vain. To every complaint she made on that head, uncle Jerry turning away his face to hide his con- fusion, and making many a hem and hah to clear his throat, would invariable acknow- ledge that it might appear strange, but he had his own reasons for it. This mdeed was all the explanation he ever gaVe, and do what she would, all Mrs. Motherly could ever get out of him. But to return. " Mrs. Motherly,'' whispered uncle Jer- ry through the keyhole, « Mrs. Motherly,'* he repeated in a hard underbreath. " I'm going out a little, but you needn't trouble yourself in the least about it, and please tell the doctor when he wakes, that V\\ return presently." But the good woman turned the key in the lock, before he had quite done speak- ing, and presented herself before him, her left hand pressed against her plump side, and a look of astonishment, half affected, half real, pictured in her face. Uncle Jerry raised himself sudd-^nly up 4P THE LADY Ot THE BEACOW OF iVRAHEERA. from his. stooping posture, and gazed at Mfs. Motherly without saying a word. ; f* 'Well ," at ^length ejaculated the latter, breal^mg silence, " what's the matter V^ " Why !" responded Mr. Guirkie, f< what is the matter. It's no harm to go out, I suppose." ** No, but what do«8 it mc^w ?" iiWjuir- «d the matron, surveying the diminatt.ive figure of Mr. Guirkie from head to f60t, ** what does it meaff,< iii such weather as thip vr <,< Well, that's it, i nolliin, worth a talkin of," Ireplied Else, "you're in a hurry now, ye know, and besides there's McSwine's gun tearin away lilce fury. Ye'd betther make baste sir, or the storm '11 be on, afore ye get home." As Else spoke, a thundering sound broke j like a peal of distant thunder, on the still ;ir and. echoed heavily and slowly along I the shore and then away among the deep I ravines of the mountains. The little fleecy cloud too which but half an hour gone, had been hardly perceptible on the western ho- rizon, had now rolled up in piles dark and dense to the eastward, and past the light ]»ouse, spread far and wide over the clear sky. " What's that ?" demanded Weeks, turn- ling to look in the direction of the sound. " It's like a heavy broadside at sea, ain't itV* " Ay," responded Else, " it's not unlike it ; but the reports of all the guns on the say and the channell batteries to boot, never carried fear to as many hearts as that c\in call. God luk to the poor vessels out there tlie night, they'll need good gear and stout arras to win through Tory Island gut, if this storm catches them within thirty leagues of the coast." *' And what means that bright there 1 It looks like the flame of a burning ship re- flected against the dark heavens.'. " Oh, that's only Irom the lantern of Tory light," said Else, "McSwine's gun is just beyond it to the west ;" and the old woman in reply to her companion's inquiry explained the cause of its loud report, as- signing it of course as all such thing are popularly assi^^ned to a supernatural agency. " It's said," she added, " by the ould peo- ple, that it niver was heard afore the Par- liament was taken away from us, and niver will stop firing the death gun of the nation till it comes back." "Pshaugh !" ejaculated Weeks, firk! I cjon't c?ire a brass cent, wo- man ; nonsense! Well, I swpnnie if this aint ^ne greatest atten|ipt at huQ|ibug I have «iet sujice I left.-—" ^ iC).^cksville,^' .subjoined Else iiji a low stealthy tone, leering at him the while from tinder her hood. /^ An^ so ye'd Ub;e to hear tiie sjicret." ** Yes, out wit^ it,'-* said WeeJkg confi- deiptty^ ** I aiht afraid. If you've ppt a se- cret regarding me^ tell it. For my part I ki|)ow,9f no secret^ and I dread none ,eith- •^r." 99 f.^ A^d might T make bonld to ask y.fi jjj^hat brought ye ;here thejii, if ye hav'iji't." tt Why I came to visit my cousins j and i^esi^es. that cQnsignment you're aware *f Humph, yer coijisignment; and are jtl^e Hardwrinkles yer cousins.?" demanded Else.' '■■ .*.* Well, mother says so j she ought to know something al^Qut it, I gyess, being the .only surviving sister of the late Mr. Hard- ' wrinkle, and so," corjtinued Weeks," rat/ier disposed tp marry, 1 jtook a fancy to ofier jn^j hand and fortune tp Mary Lee." .*.* And what wud yju marry her for, if it's a fafT question r' .*.* Her beauty, of course, she has nothing jclse to recommend her, I reckon." *f Ha, ha, ha/' laughed Else, in hoarse follow tones, tjhat sounded like the voice of the dead frona |t|I)e depths of a church vault, her toothless gums mun^bling the words as she uttered tl^em, " ha, ha^ her beauty in- deed — the beauty qt Wiljiam Talbot's gold, fd be nearer the truth, I'pi thinkin." Weeks heard the nam;?; quite distinctly, ^od the hearing ot it ^ seeded to paralyze j^im, for the fishing rod fell frpm his hands, l^ithont his seeming to notice it. ff IfMii^ph I" said Else pursuing Jjcr ad- vantage, **«iar,ry Mary Lee for her beau- ty, a girl ye niver set eyes on, till ye seen her, not three hours ago, on Loch Elg.Trr Hoot, toot, sir, (jion't be foolish ; yer ^ grate aisy spoken man to be sure, apcl njught pass for what ye plaze with the sij^- ple ycounthry gawkies her.e on the \rM Riountains, but a? for me, I'm a little ♦oo pjuld m the hprji to be blij^dfolded ijr^ ^^t Ji^ay." " You misujfjiderstand me, old Iady,''sa»<| Weeks, pickipg up his ^shjqg rod and jen- deavoririg .to compose himself. " Wef, listen to me for a minit and ye'|| hear my raisons. Didn't ye bargain vitt me for my gppd word with Mary Lee." "Yes." " And didn't ye bargaiq with me mpre- over if my gopd word iij fail,to delude her with spell^ and cl^arms, ap that afore iverye seen a faitiire of her face." "No, that's a mf^take/' responded Weeks, *.* I saw her at the Catl^olic Chapej before I ^aw you, and djetermiped to have her at any sacrifice." " Saw her, may be so, but ye didn't sep her, face j she was veil'd, wasn't she 1" *< Can't say as to that ; sayir enough af least to know she was a handspme girl.-r? Why shoyld she be veil'd — eh 1'* " Niver mind; she hasher own raisons^J suppose, but this much I can tell ye, tj^at many's the little up settin squireen and purse proud byda^h threw themselves in her way the last twel'month and more, as she went in and out of Massmount Chapel of a Sunday mornin, larjin on her uncle's arm^ t() stale a giinipse at her * bonnie 'een,' anij got little for their pains when all lyas done. No, no, sir, ye seen that bright sunny face this blissed day for the first time in yer life, or I'm far out p' my reclcnin." " Well, saw enough tp know she's ^ handsome girl/' stammered out Weeks. hardly knowing what to say |n the face ot Else's positive assertion. " And listen to mc again/' cp^linued the latter, still fpjlowing up her advantage, k CHRONICLE OF INNI9H0WEN. 45 " why didn't ye tliry the girl yerselt afore ye came my length ? Yer not so handsome that she'd be lakely to fall plump in love with ye, to be sure ; but still yer not so ill lookin aitber for a foreigner, and then, to the back i' that, yeVe as many goold rings, chains andguglygaws about ye, as might set any young crathur's heart a flutterin. Why in the name i' wondher, I say, didn't ye thry what ye cud (h yerself afore ye'd g6 to the expense of enjgagin me." « Why I wanted to bfe spry ab6bt it,'' responded Weeks. " Tinie's money to me, I count hours dollars and minutes cents. I couldn't afford to wait no how. But pray, bow does it concern' you what my views and motives are, if I pay your price when the job's done." « Ay, ay," muttered Else ; « that's it — that's it. Ye thought ye'd make shor.t work of it, for fear the sacret id lake out. Humph ! I see ; and yer cousins, as ye call them, the Hardwrinkles made ye blieve I was a witch I'll warrint, and end do more with spells and charms, than you with all yer fine airs and boasted riches. Ay, ay, ye thought I was an ould hell born divil ithout sowl or conscience, ready to do yer dirty work an ask no questions aither. But yer mistaken Mr. Weeks, cute as you are ye'll find me just as canny ; and I tell ye what it is, may I niver see the sun again, if all the dollars in America, cud buy me over to move one hair's breath in this dark plot, if it wasn't for the sake of Mary Lee, her- self:" ' Weeks paused for an instant ere he re- plied. The solemn declaration he had just heard, and made with so much apparent sincerity, completely puzzled him. It was a phase in the ould woman's character, he had never noticed before. Already indeed he had penetrated enough to see that she was by no means the kind of person com- mon report represented her, nor such as he took her for himself on his first visit to the €airn. Since then however, her charac- ter had been slowly and gradually develop- ing itself, but still in such a manner as net- ther to surprise nor startle him. He hard- ly knew what to make of her. Every mark — every characteristic of the original woman seemed to have gradually vanished one by one. Her decrepitude, her stupidi- ty, her peevishness, her deafness, her blind- ness had all disappeared day after day, and so completely thkt at last he eoukl hardly believe in her ver'^ identity. The wretch- ed being he found' but a montht gone, sit- ting over her peat fire with her goat by her side, and looking as stolid as if aU her men- tal faculties had fled, now stood before him, an active^ shrewd, energetic woman. All about her was changed — all save the fur- rows .of Iter brown skin, and the gray elf locks whicli still stole out from under the band of her ruffled cap. After such a me- tamorphosis, what wonder if Weeks began to suspect, (and especially after so solemn a declaration as he just heard) that her re- puted lust of gold was hke all the other charges made against her, an I which he himself had found to be false. And how could he tell now but it was her love of Mary Lee, rather than her love of gold that led her to take so Kveiy an interest in his affairs. But be that as it might, Mr. Weeks felt confused and puzzled to his wit's end, and finally resolved to let Else have her own way, believe what she pl^is- ed of him, and carry out her own views to benefit her protege after her own fashion. " So it's entirely for the girl's sake," he at length replied, << that you consent to aiil me in the matter of this marriage*'^ " Humph, I love gold," responded Else, " but I love Mary Lee better." " Tlien you should relinquish your claim on the remaining three of the five hundred dollars I promised you," said Week&> " since you serve her interests, not mine.'*^ " Not a brass copper of it," replied Ebe j " not a copper. No, no ; so far from that, I'll be expectin another hundred by this time next Thursday." " Another, whew ! Well, well, you shall 46 THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF A|lAHEERA. ! P (■:,. ' p'„ \ have it," said Weeks, promptfy, " for after all, it don't matter a punkin seed to me what your motives are, if you only secure me the girl." <^ Nor the girl's love or beauty a punkin «eed aither, if ye can only make her yer wife ." "Well, don't know about that." " Hoot, sir, ye know, as well as the sowl's in yer body, that ye don't care a chaw i' tabacky for her beauty. Yer afther some- thin ye value more nor beauty, or I'm not Else Curley i' the Cairn." ** You're not what I once took you for, that's certain,!' replied Weeks. " You may be the d — 1 for what 1 know — and just as like as any thing else, for aught I can see to the contrary." ** Ha, ha, I'm not the dotin old crone yer friends id make me out, that id $ell iier sowl to fill her pockets." -} i« I required no such sacrifice," respond- ed Weeks. " I employed you to serve me in a perfectly lawful transaction, from .which no injury could possibly result to either pat ty." *^ Humph ! and suppose the girl was left a foptin by a friend in furrin parts, ^^ said Else, " what then 1 Who'd be the gainer 1 I?d like to know." r'** Gainer 1 Why, I guess I'm good enough for her, any way you can fix it, fortune or no fortune," said Weeks, thrust- ing his hands into his breeches pockets and hitching up his cap behind with the collar of his goat. " Yes, old lady, good enough if she bad fifty fortunes." , ' ** Good enough for her !" repeated Else, looking into his face, her thin, wrinkled lips turning up in scorn as she spoke. — " You good enough for Mary Lee !" "Ay, or for any other Irish girl, by crackie, that ever stepped in shoe leather," cried the Yankee, jingling up the silver change in his pockets. "Hah, hah!" laughed Else, "that's mighty modest." Ml Well, them's my sentiments." " Yer wakenpss, ye mane." "No, ma'am, my solemn conviction. I The son of an American revolutionist is good enough, I take it, for the biggest— darndest old aristocrat's daughter in the| land, all-fired proud as they feel." " May be so, may be so," quietly replied I Else. "But if that's yer way i' thinkin, I'd advise ye keep ittoyerself. Such talk as that may sound big in America, but it| on't go down here." "Here — and what the tarnation are ye,| that an American bom can't speak his sen- timents right out, just as he pleases." " Oh then indeed it's true for ye ; bad I scran to the much we are. But still ye know we have our feelins as well as other! people. And in troth now, between our- selves, Mr. Weeks, it's not to say very I seemly to hear a man like you, without a dhrop i' daccnt blood in his veins comin over here and settin himself up as an aiqual for the best in the land. Wow ! wow ! sir, it's mighty provokin to see a stranger takin sich airs on himself afore he's a month in I the country." ; it "My dear woman, you're behind the age I guess, two or three centuries down I here, in this section. If you only kept run of the times you'd soon come to find, that an American always makes himself at home | wherever he goes — that his very name's I a passport to every country in creation." " Bedad thin if ye thry that same pass- 1 port here I'm afraid it won't take, if ye don't spake a little modester nor ye do now. Little as ye think iv the Irish abroad, I faith there's some i' them at home here, | that'll make ye keep a civil distance, if ye don't keep a civil tonguer in yer head.-— Mind that, sir, and don'l forget it, aither> as long as yer in the country." ' " Well,'' said Weeks, somewhat taken aback by Else's contemptuous disregard of a claim, which he thought irr^esistible all over the world, and especially ift poverty- s'ricken Ireland, " *vell, 1 was always taught to reckon a free born American A CHRONICLE OP INNISHOWEM. 4t 9 J 4 I 'I r way i' thinkin, he's a month in good enough for any woman in creation, and I rather think, old lady, you'll have to try hard before you unsettle that opinion. Cousin Nathan — I mentioned his name once before, I guess — cousin Nathan was considerable of a shrewd man in his way — as shrewd, I presume, as most men in that section of the country — well, he was a min that was always posted up in every tbmg relating to Europe and European aristocracy, and he told me often and often that a free bora American was good enough ^" "Paugh! free born fiddlesticks I" ex- claimed Else, " What the plague do we care about yer free born Americans oryer •cousin Nathans aither. We're obliged to ye' to be sut«, for sending us over what ye did io our time of need, an ill it be our com- mon to forget it, or indeed our childher after us for that matter, but in the name i' patience have sense, and don't take the good out in all ye do by going about boa^- in and puffin yer Americanism that way, like an Auctioneer selling calicoes at a fair." " Boasting," repeated Weeks, " well, there ! Boasting, why if there's any thing in this world I hate more than another, it is boasting. I never boast — never. The j)eople of these old reduced nations here, may boast, and the poorer they happen to %e, the greater braggarts they are. But our nation is too dignified, too intelligent ior thai ; she's too great to stoop to such trifles. No, no, I nierely stated a fact, and I repeat it again, that a free Ameri- can,' a son of the immortal Washington, is good enough for the best and the highest blood in creation." "Very good," said Else, " every body has a right to his own opinion, I suppose. But don't talk that way to Edward Lee, if you don't want to pick a quarrel with Wm. For never was flint fuller iv fire than ve'li find him if ye touch hij^ family pride by such presumin talk as that." G- • ■ ■ << Well, hold on a bit. Pre got ih all- fired sure way of bringing; dowit 4iat !taltte family pride a peg or two, and without t quarrel either. ISee if I haVt." "Why, indeed an word," said Else. " and to tell ye truth, may l^e that itself wudn't be the worst thing re cud do after all, for I'm thinkin they^H have to be beg- gared before they're betthered, the ciir thurs. ' '* "What does that mean?" demairded Weeks. " Why, that afther all oUr scbatiliiH; Mary Lee won't have ye till she finds there's no other vray to save heriself atid uncle from the poor-house or the jaiK" Whilst Else Curley was yet sp^i^kijt^ the crack of a pistol made Weeks tt^rft biS eyes quickly up in the direction 6f t|)^' lit- tle cabin on the Cairn. The ni^Ii^; hoti^- ever, was so pitch;^ dark, that he cotdd see nothing beyond the edge of the read^ and still judging from the sharpness df this report, he suspected the weapon miiist haVe' been discharged within a dozien paces of where he stood. Wondering what thts could mean in a spot so remote and a night so dark and threatening, for the broezie of evening had now changed into ocbasiorikl gusts, and big drops of raiU b0gan to' fiall so heavily as to disturb the dutst Undler lii^ feet, — wondering and still keepiiig hik eyes turned towards the Cairn, lie' was aepMtf startled by a shrill whistle twice re^i^aied, and seemingly as close to him as if it b^df come from hjimself. Turning short to de- mand from hii companion wHslt this st^at meant, and why she replied to it, M^ found much to his surprise and vexation that he' stood alone— Else was gone. The in9ihtnt after, however, an answer came to Un'^iei^ fion, but in a form someWliat different from that in which the astonished American' liad' expected. For hardly had he called'th^ olff woman a second time to come biickaiid'ei-' plain the mystery, wheh a Bash of Ifglrtiiihgf,^ instantly followed by aclap of thundiBTj^bdt' across the rOad aiid reVeafed for a d^tbilil t[. 4S THE LADV OF THE BEACON O* AUAHEEKA. ' I the form and face of the Imndsomo young sailor, whom he had seen conversing with Mary Lee but an hour bctore on the edge of the precipice. It wa-s but a single Hash and lasted no longer than the twinkling of an eye, and yet he saw the young man dis- tinctly~-standing on a little knoll wiiliin a short call of him, and resting on the boat hook in the very position he had seen him last. Weeks' first impulse was to follow Else and demand an explanation. The presence of the stranger in fact, at such a time and place, appeared to him rather suspicious, and being inquisitive by nature as well as somewhat appreliensive of Else^s fidelity, he resolved to have the mystery cleared up, at once, let the storm rage as it might. With this magnanimous intention, he strided over the low fence on the road side,, and boldly advanced up tite hill towards the Cairn. Breathless, as much from agitation pf min,d as of body, he made his way with- in fifty paces of Else's cabin, full determin- ed to liave his mind satisfied at all Irazards —when, alas for human hopes! he was agaia destined to meet with disappoint- ment ; for jgst as he had gained the top of the first slope, Nannie presented herself before him, right in the middle of his path. In a second he came to a stand still ; the halt, in fact, was' as sudden af if he had run< against a post. ** Welj, there !" he exclaimed, gazing at the old white goat standing before him as st^it and resolute as a sentry on guard* — ".there I you're ready for mischief again, I see; but go ahead, old beizebub, I'll be darned if you stop me this time," and clutphing bis fishing rod Celtic fashion, he straightway put himself on his defence. , Nfinnie, true toihe well known habits and in^Unets of her species, now backed slowly away^^ill she had receded some ten or tive;lve pfice;s, and then rearing on her hmd feei^ for^an instant made a rush full against ^e;int,rjideri-a^dyvould probably ha^ye up- sfst him, but WeeJ^ wl»Q.1^^4 ^Qii^e experi- ence of the animal already, evaded the blow by stepping aside at the critical moment^ niid as she pattsed struck her on the horns. The goat however seemed not to notice it in the least ; for immediately turning and running up the hill to intercept him, she^ again drew herself up in a position to re- new the encounter. It^should here be said periiaps, that Nannie had somewhat the ad- vantage of Mr. Weeks, inasmuch as the latter was a stranger in the country, and had but a very iadifierent knowledge of the use of his weapon ; whereas Nannie, according, to common report, was already the " hero of a hundred battles." Besides, she knew her ground better and could see more dis- tinctly in the darkness. With such odds against him, however, Mr. Weeks did hi» devoir bravely and showed no lack of cou- rage m addressing himself to so strange a combat. At length Nannie again rose up and plunged forward as before with a fu- rious rush, and again missing her aim re- ceived a second blow on tlie horns as vio- lent as the first. "Come, old slie-dcvil — half catamount, half Lucifer — fire up- again ; I'll teach you a Yankee trick or two,, come on old rattle- snake." But Nannie it seemed was not disposed to renew the encounter so readily as lie expected ; and taking it for granted she would a second time repeat her ma- nceuvre of running on before him and head- ing him off, he resolved to benefit by her loss of time in checking her headlong, course, and have the start of her for .the Cairn. With this object in view he made all possible Iiaste up the hill, and had gain- ed on her a considerable distance, when all of a sudden, and without the slightest anti- cipation of it on his part, somelliing struck him from behind and threw him back head- foremost down the hill. A statute of stone thrust back from its pedei^tal down an, in- clined plane, could not have fallen- more helplessly than did Ephraim Wee^s. The crash of his body on the heaten foot natli- mighty have been heard distinctly »t the A ClinoNlCLE OP INNISHOWEN. <» cabin. He was now completely at the mercy of his enemy. Twice he esa.iyed to regain \m feet,, and twice did Nannie lay him flat on his back. At length, how- ever, he succeeded so far as to scramble up on his knees, and — as the goat now in the heat of encounter closed in upon him, no longer retreating and advancing as be- fore, — he finally seized her by the horns, and sneechles, breathless, furious, there he held her. But what was he to do now ? He could not remain kneeling, in that atti- tude looking in his enemy's face all night, amid the rain and lightning. He was .sore- ly perplexed, for never was he between two such horns of a dilemma before. To let |o his hold and strike with the butt of his nshing rod, would only enrage her the more, without in the least extricating him from his embarrassment, and to hold her with one hand, whilst he drew out his pocket pistol (a weapon he always carried about Lim) with the other, was more than he could accomplish. In either case he was likely to lind himself as helpless and pros- trate as ever, before he could strike a blow or draw a trigger. " Tarnation seize ye," he cried, looking into the animal's face and shaking her by the horns ** are you man or beast or devil or what ye ?" Nannie bic ited a reply. It was her de- fiance' a V out ranee, " Oh good heavens !" cried Weeks in accents of despair, " is there such another country as this in all almighty creation ? Here I am on my knees, pelted with rain, half singed with lightning, and nearly beaten to a mummy by a goat, the rery first day I entered on my plans and specu- lation." But this condition of things could not long endure-^and so Mr. Weeks at last prudently determined to run for it, since he could see no other way of terminating the lit. It was the resource of the coward, to be sure, but what else could be done ?— Making a desperate effort, therefore, he threw (he goat on her (tide by a sudden wrench of the horns, and then jumping on his feet lied down the hill, over the fence, and along the road, as fast as his long legs could carry him, cursing lustily as he ran, the unlucky day he ever had the misfortune to meet Else Curley of the Cairn. And here we must leave him to pursue his dreary journey, and return to other actors in the play. CHAPTER VIII. Castle Gregory, the family seat of the Petershams, on the banks of Loch Swilly, was an old fashioned place as could be seen any where in Ireland or out of it. Stand- ing ail alone, cold and bare against the side of a mountain, it looked more like a Rhen* ish fortress or soldier's barrack than a gen- tleman's residence. To the traveller whe- ther he approached it by sea or land, it pre- sented a bleak and desolate appearance. There was neither tree to shelter it from the storm, nor portico to break the blast from the hall door. It consisted of sereral piles of buildings erected at different peri- ods and jumbled together without the least ornament, or the slightest regard to con- gruity of outline. High dormer-windows and tall brick chimneys rose up together in remarkable confusion, and so closely pack- ed together that all the swallows and jack- daws of the parish seemed to gather there in the season to build their nests. As to the pleasure grounds, if indeed they cottld be so called, they had neither gate orstotte wall to inclose them. All round about the place was open and bare ; indeed save a few acres of green lawn before the hall door where the old sur. dial stood between th6 two lions couchantf there was nothing to be seen any where but bent and sand hills. In front of the castle, Ballyma- stocken strand and rabbit warren stretcbed aWay to Rathmullen bead, from the brow of which Dunree batterjc pointed its guns across the narrows of the irith, and behind S.;> W THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF AEAHEERA. Kt, !: ,1' it SitgjU Loaf Hill ros« up a like a pyra- mid wlih its little coast guard-station and sij^al pole on top. iiipproachine Castle Gregory by water, from tiie direction of Araheera point, the immense precipices which line the southern slipre, compleiely hide it from the travel- ler's view, till he comes within an oar's length or two of the usual landing place. It was on this account probably, that the occupants of a small sailing boat, which glided up the channel the evening after the pamful events related in the second last c^i^pte^, seemed quite unconscious of their neffr prp|ciaiity t(f the place, for the steers- man put up bis helm) and sent the boat ^(Sfsriag away in an opposite direction, just a^ islie kid atmoat toi^cJied the nose of the , f f iHilljOia ! there,?' exclaimed one of the pa^^i^prs. " Wbere away, now ? you're tajcmg m over to Innjshowen instead of ]3^|yi^tocken. JPi^t lier about man, put l^jBf ftbopt directly." .^'?'^ fle so l^rd on me, yer river- ift^*y-9MCi*<^'t wp^t. every Cjne to know %'ijifcfi fts w^^ gi^ yqui-^lf s^t^f crMisii about here on sick calls so many years." " Humph ! Oh ay. You're a pretty pilot, to carry us through these rocks ai^ currents," continued the ppest, in a half bantering, half serious tqne. " If you knew only half as much about piloting as you da about poaching, you wouic) do .well enough — there now — take care of the shoals here — steady that, steady that, and the tidp will set us into the basin itself." When the boat touched the ground, thft steersman stepped ashore and drew up her bows as far as he was able on the hard beach, (for it seemed the regular landing place at that time of tide was rather incon*. vcnient for his purpose) an^ then prepared to land his passengers. ^* Lane on me, yer riverince," said he^ as the priest stood with bis foot on the gua-< wale ready to jump, ** lane on m^ the; shore's rough." " Yes, lean on you, till you break my neck, as you came within an inch of doing last week— away — J'll never trust yoij agaiu. » "But you'll hurt yer feet. Father JohlPt " persisteci the skipper, with more concern for the clergyman's safety than the danger seemed to warrant. " Never mind my feet — stand off— J'll none of your help.'' " Why these hard, rough pavin ston?«— they're terrible on the g — ■. — on tinder fi^et, I mape ; plaze yer riverince, just lane on me once more." Th^ priest as he stood there with his foot on the gunwale appeared to be a man of middle age and stature, and active enougbj one would> suppose^ to jump twici^ the distance ; but the skipper, whp was evi- dently a humorous fellow in his way, bad probably discovered his weak point, and seemed disposed to tea^e him about it ip requital for his having rebuked ^p^ ip the presencp of strangers. " You inay take my word for it I'll le^p on you some of these days, my gopd fel^ low," said the priest, pusliung the skipper A CHAOMICLC OF UtNISHOVISN. 5t —Stand off— jni :ure, and acfiv9 i aside, and stepping ashore with the greatest j ease imaginable. ^* I'll lean you the right uiray* too." "But shure,jrer riverince, accordin' to yer own words, we're all bound to forgive I one another. « Very well, sir, 1 have a crow to pluck with you, notwithstanding." « A crow J" retorted the skipper, " be- dad, sir, that's tough picking. But sure if ye'd accept of a brace of grouse or wild- duck, I'd bring them up — " *♦ Hold your peace, Lanty Hanlon," ex- claimed the priest, (for the skipper was no other than our quondam friend) ^' hold yer peace, you're growing quite too malapart of latp. Perhaps if you thought I heard all about your treatment ot Mr. Johnston's g^mekeepi^rl last Monday night, you would Jiardly be so bold." "Me I sir." «Ay, you, sir." « Why now just Ijsten to that, gentle- men. I^ay I never do harm if it don't beat Bauagher out and out, upon my con^ Ijcience it's the most astonishin — " <^Oh ycu needn't affect all that innocent surprise," said the priest, interrupting him. f^I know you too well to be hoodwinked in tbat way, Mr. Hanlon. So not another )^ord now but make haste and land your passengers." " Oh to be sure— -a^ coorse- — that's al- ways the way with ye," muttered Lanty, making a show ol hauling up the boat's side to the beach. " Oh no, why shud I be al- lowed to clear myself. Ay coorse nobody in the whole parjsh does the laste harm in life, from Monday mornin till Saturday pight, but Lanty Haolon. But isn't it mighty odd," he continued, winking slily at one of the occupants of the boat, " how bad entirely he feels about the game-keep- er, when, if report be true, he was himself once in his days, the terror of all the game keepers in the barony. But it's not that ails him — there's somethiu else in the win. I'll wager he's angry about that salmon I sent him last week/' and elosmg one eye hard, he looked with the other at a littU man seated apparently in the bottom of the boat. ** Sure if 1 cud only be sartint it was that, I'd ask his parJon and promise niver to do the lake again." '*IIa! ha! Capital, capital, Lanty," ejaculated the little man from, under the thwarts-*-" promise never to send him a sal- mon again, if he only forgives you, he ! he I excellent, I declare I" " Salmon ! What salmon, sir, do. you. mean?" demanded the priest. " Oh nothin worth speakia of, yer riyer- ince," replied- Laaty, pushing up his rabbit skin cap from his eyes, and giving the boat another pull, " nothin but a small twentf? poundher I speared under Mr. Watt's mUlr dam and sent up to the bouse-li^eeper fcH^ your Friday's dinner j but av. coorse pr riverence niver suspected how it came or- ye wudn't taste a morsel of it for the: world." "Ha! ha!" Jaughed the same voice^ " that's it, give it to him, Lanty-— that's^ just his deserving." ** Lanty Hanlon," exclaimed the priest, laughing at the joke himself, for he saw i&; an instant he had been made unwittingly to entertain those very friends now sitting in the boat to a poached or stolen salmon, last; Friday at dinner, despite all his publip threats and denunciations agamst so unjust and mischievous a practice. " Lanty Han- lon/' he repeated, "should you attempt such, a trick again, you may depend on it I shall, report you to the constabulary." " Hah ! Lanty, listen to that — eh, how very big spoken he is j why I vow and de- clare, Lanty, I hav'n't seen a bit of game at his table these five years but he threaten- ed to throw out of the window." " Oh it's wondherful, yer honor, how mighty tender his conscience is in regard of game ; but isn't it quare, sir, this weak- ness niver comes over his riverince while there's a bone to be seen on the table afore him." 62 THE LADT OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. > '111 Im " Hold your scandalous tongue;" cried the good natured priest, raising iiis cane over Lanty*s head, " hold your impudent tongue, I say, or I'M be tempted to make this acquainted with your ears," and shak- ing the weapon at the provoking^ fellow he moved away from .the shore, out of hearing of his voice. *, Mr. Horseman," said Lanty (now that Father John had gone off beyond ear- siiot) and changing his voice from the long drawl of the dry humorist to a more busi- ness-Iik^ tone. "Mr. Horseman be plazed, sir, to step ashore, till we thry and lift that crathur out, he looks like a mumniy poor sowl, he's so quate and pace- able." The individual named Horseman, had been attentively reading a book through a pair of gold spectacles all the time since the boat came in sight. So absorbed indeed was he in the subject, that he never raised his eyes even for an instant, during all the previous conversation, not even when the boat first struck the beach and shook him in his seat. " Come, sir," repeated Lanty touching him on the shoulder, " step out av ye plaze, we must hurry or be late." " What's the matter now ?" demanded Horseman in a deep gruif voice, raising his eyes and looking about him as he spoke. Lanty again repeated his request. " Humph," ejaculated the other, grow- ling out his dissatisfaction at being disturb- ed, and limiting his reply to the monosylla- ble, he rose slowly up from his seat, squirt- ed a shower of tobacco juice from the cor- ner of his mouth, and stalked over the boat's side with the book under his arm. It may be as well perhaps to say a little here of this gentleman's personal appear- ance, since he happens to be somewhat con- cerned, (though it be indirectly) in the moral of our story ; a word or two may serve to give the reader an idea of his per- sonality, which to keen observers of char- acter IS not by any means a bad item to begin with. y lie was a man somewhere about fifty- five years of {ige, of rubust constitution and! muscular frame. His chest was broad and round as a gladiator's, and his height full six feet or upwards. His features looked coarse and strongly marked, and his skin rough and swarthy like ^one born under the tropics. As he turned to gaze back on the long white beach, where the waves broke in regular succession in the calm summer's evening, the expression of his face was stem and dark. Still though repulsive, he was| not in any sense a vulglir looking 'aa. On the contrary, there was that in his ' which spoke him a man of deep study strong, vigorous intellect. His dress was I a plain blue dinner coat with gilt buttons, (which now as he moved up iVom the shore, appeared somewhat shorter of skirt than the fashion of the times warranted) a bufT summer vest, and pantaloons of gray kert seymere, which like the coat appeared to | have been also rather stinted in the mea- sure. After gazing about him for a while, he walked leisurely up to where the priest stood, and folding his arms on his broad breast turned his face once more to the beach and began to converse with his rev- erend companion. "J'he attitude he assum- ed, and the air of self satisfaction with which he pursed out his lips when he spoke, could hardly fail to impress the most care- less observer with the conviction, that he was a man quite conscious of his* own men- tal powers and fully alive to a sense of his own personal importance. But we must leave him for the present with the priest and return to the remaining occupants of the boat. "It's a bad case," said the little man under the thwarts, " a very bad case. I'm afraid one great toe and the two little ones are gone, entirely." " Oh well, sure if they're gone at8elf,yer honor, he can do very well without them," replied Lanty, " two or three toes, is nei- tum* ■(Ma- •M*«* A Chronicle of innishowen. $^ Iber her^ ftor there.*' " Certainly not in one respect, I admit .^but this is an extraordinary case, Lanty, you can't deny that. It's a very deplora- t)le case, and calls for a woild of sym- pathy," and as the speaker raised his eyes up to Lanty's face, now bent over him, there could be no mistaking the mild, benevolent countenance of uncle Jeiry Guirkie* Lanty looked kmdiy down for an instant on uncle Jerry's upturned face* Not a word he said, for there was noHoteed of say- ing any thing } but the smile on his honest countenance was more eloquent than wordsj it seemed to say as plainly as looks could say it, " God almighty bless you for your kind heart — you're the best sowl in the whole world." "I hope," said uncle Jerry endeavoring to draw up his little gaitered legs from their painful posture, stretched out as they had been so lon^ in the bottom of the boat, *^ I hope the poor fellow mty be nothing the worse for the long voyage." " Oh, begorra there's not a bit a fear of him," replied Lanty, " the craythur's as strong as a bullock. But isn't it mighty strange, sir, ye tuck such a liking to him all at once ; why one id think you had Chris- tians enough down there to take yer pick and choice iv, insted of carrying away a blackamoor like that with ye." " Why the difference is only in the skin, Ijanty." << The skin ! bedad^ sir, and that atself's DO thrifle." « Well, but he's a Christian." "What!— that fellow/" " Yes, indeed, that very negro, and, per- haps a better Christian, than a great many of us." " Ilah, hah, ha," cried Lanty, breaking into a loud laugh, in spite of his stoical gravity, for he had never seen a negro be- fore in his life. "Hah, ha, Mr. Giyrkie, I see you can joke as well as another. — B\it, cofue, we must thry to lift hiin out any way, whatever he is.'' " I don't joke upon my honor, Lanty .r He's really a Christian." " Oh, it's no matter, sure I don't care » pin about it, he's good e;nough in his own way I'll warrint — let me help you out sir." " Nonsense, Lanty, you don't seem tw believe me j I tell you again he's a Chris- tian, like yourself, and perhaps it the truth were known, a much better one too," re- peated uncle Jerry, slightly vexed at Lan- ty's incredulity^ " Weil bedad, yer honor," replied the incredulous Lanty, scratching his head, " I can't spy the compliment's tery flatherriny any way. Feth, may-be it's in regard of his strength of religion you like him so much, sir.'* " No, not for that either. It's because one of his race saved my life once in Ala" bama, at the imminent risk of his v>>n, and I made a vow then never to forget it to the poor fellows wherever I met them. There's another reason besides,! know their natures better than most of my neighbors here, and think I can nurse him with greater comfort to himself and pleasure to me." The unfortunate African, of whom Br* Chamberwell had told so pitiful a story* was there indeed in propria colore, sitting down low in the boat and resting his back against uncle Jerry's breast, while the kmd hearted soul's little arms encircled the sufferer's breast, with as much tenderness ' as if it were his own son he had rescu' d from the jaws of death, and was now bring*' ing back with him in triumph to his pater- nal home. In this affectionate manner he supported the poor invalid all the way round Araheera point from Baliyhernan to to Castle (jregory, a distance of nearly ten miles. Often did he speak to him dur- ing the voyage m the kindest and most , soothing tones, carefully did he wrap the blalikets closer and closer round his ail-but naked shoulders and stiffened limbs, and pour into his parched lips a mouthful f cordial from hjs pocket flash. Ouce only u Tttfi LADt OF THE BEACOti Of ARAHEERA. 8. ^i(l tbo party stop on their way> and that was at the light house, to exchange courte- sies with Mr. Lee and his fair niece, and Inquire after the little cabin boy, whom the latter had carried home with her that morn- iiig in her cockle shell over Loch Elg*. At the priest's signal, Mary came running down the steps to great him, and receive his blessing, — which indeed the good man seemed to give with all the fervor of his heartf — whilst uncle Jerry looking lovingly up in her face, stole her hand back and kiss- ed it with a tender respect, that was in ad- mirable keeping with his own modest char- acter and the maiden's pure and gentle na- ture. When the boat shoved off, the fair girl ran op the steps, and stood for a minute or two on the edge of the precipice, under which the boat passed, her face radiant with smiles, and her uplifted hand waving adieu Vikt a spirit about to ascend into the regions of air* During the remainder of the voyage liardly a word was spoken. The priest and Ml*. Horseman had been discussing ques- tions of theology and canon law all the Way from Bailyheman to the lighthouse, and now, on resuming their journey, seemed to think th6y had said enough on those ^rave subjects for the present, and turned to occupy the remaining time each after his 0#n fashion; Father John opened his bre- viary and began to read his office. Mr. Horseman drew out a number of the " Bri- tish Quarterly" and pulled down his gold spectacles from the top of his head, where he had put them out of his way. Uncle J€irry gave the negro a mouthful of wine and gathered the blankets close round him, and Lanty Hanlon took another hitch on the running sheet, and laid himself over quietly in the stern. In this way the little party composed themselves to rest after the fatigues of the morning, while the boat l^lidcd slowly up the loch. As they round- ed Rathmullen Head, however, an accident dccurred which might have proved of seri- ous consequence to the whole parly. At this point Rathmullcn Mountains runs out into the Frith till it almost butts against Dundnim Bluff on the opposite] shores On each of these headlands a bat" tery of of some ten or twelve guns protects! the narrow channel, and so strong is the current here, particularly at half-tide, that it is quite impossible foi- a sail boat to stem it, except under a strong breeze from the mouth of the loch. Lanty saw the ebb-tide was beginning to tell upon him as he reach- ed this spot, and making the helm akid sheet fast, he stepped forward and slipped the bow oars to help hira against the stream ; but hardly had he pulled half a dozen strokes when a large boat, rowed by four stout men and steered by a tall old womaii wrap* ped in a grey cloak, shot out from one of the dark corners under the headland, and| passing the jutting rock, round which he was endeavoring to make his way, struct I his little craft so violently as almost to jerk his unsuspecting passengers out into the sea. As it was, he lost one of his oars, I which, breaking the rowel pins, came with- in an inch of breaking his own head as it swept round and fell overboard. <• Hah !" cried Lanty, when the boat righted again after the stem of the other had shaved its way down her side, and fell off across her stern into the stream, ** Hah ! that was near nickin." *• Who are they ?" demanded the priest, turning suddenly to look after the boat. " If she's living, that's Else Curley, of the Cairn, in the stern sheets," replied Lanty, " I know her by the hood of her cloak." « What, the blind fiddlers wife !" "The very woman, sir; she's round here on some smuggling trip, I'll warrint her." " Rather old I should think for such work." " Humph!" said Lanty, "you know lit- tle about her, I see ;" and trimming his boat again, he succeeded at length in pass- ing the rock and gaining Castle Gregory's A CHRONICLE OF INNISIIOWEN, 6(i ullcn Mountains I it almost butts on the opposite headlands a bat* ve gunsprotecti so strong is the at half-tide, that sail boat to stem breeze from the saw the ebb-tide him as he reach- le helm and sheet and slipped thcf| inst the stream;! Ifa dozen strokes by four stout old womaii wrap- out from one of le headland, and I round which he his way, struck as almost to jerk ers out into the I one of his oars^ 1 pins, came with<^ i own head as it •oard. , when the boat iva of the other her side, and fell 2 stream, " Hah ! anded the priest, fter the boat. Else Curley, of sheets," replied the hood of her ■8 wife !" irj she's round 'ip, 1*11 warrint think for such "you know lit- id trimming his t length in pass- 'astle Gregory's landing place, as wc have already seen. But to return to Mr. Guirkie. After some little exertion the latter suc- ceeded in extricating his limbs from their disagreeable position, ana with Lanty's hein found himself safe at last on terra \finiia. The three gentlemen then came together to consult about transporting the negro to Greenmount. Uncle Jerry was for sending immediately to the next village for a horse and cart, and stretching him on a mattrass laid on the bottom of it. Mr. Horseman, on the other hand, thought he might do very well in the boat-house for the night, with some clean straw, and Lan- ty to watch with him ; more especially as the boat-house was close at hand and the night pleasant and warm ; while they them- selves could return home and send over an easy conveyance next morning. But the priest was of a different opinion from both, and thought it much better for all parties to sleep at Castle Gregory. " The night would be very dark," he said, " the roads both deep and rutty after the late rains, and, besides, t'would take two hours, at least, to procure a suitable conveyance for the negro if they carried him home, or for themselves if they left him behind." As to accommodations for the invalid, he had no doubt Mr. Petersham would cheerfully or- der him a comtortable berth and send his servants, besides, to carry him up to the Castle. After some objections on the part of Uncle Jerry on the score f delay and the immediate necessity for medical attendance — objections which we fear very much were a little aggravated by the dread of Mrs. Motherly's grave displea- sure at his long absence — and on the part of Mr. Horseman against, what he called, an unpardonable intrusion into a gentle- man's family, particularly at so late an hour, and accompanied, as they were, by a notorious poacher and a half-dead negro ; " hawking the latter about all day," he added, gruffly, " in a must absurd and ridi- H culous manner, from house to house and rock to rock, till he expected the whole country round should ring with it for the next twelve-months to come." After thes0 objections, we say, were made and disposed of, the party, at last, .concluded to leayp the negro with Lanty, in the boat-house, and put up at Castle Gregory for the night. Accordingly, they advanced to the house, and Father John, raising the knocker, knocked loudly at the door. CHAPTER IX, Mr. Ephraim Weeks, as the reader may have already suspected, came to Ireland to speculate in matrimony and tobacco. He left home with a cigar in his mouth, aqd stepped aboard the packet as she moved past the wharf, with as careless and indif- ferent an air as it he were dropping down to Sandy Hook to visit a friend. As, to meeting with any serious obstacle, in a country whose inhabitants, to take them ii| the lump, were no better than South Sea Islanders, he never dreamt of it for a mo- ment: why should he? He knew what the Irish were, every soul of them^ and could read them through as he could the alphabet. He met them on the wharves, on the railroads, on the steamboats, in the police offices, saw them dramatized on tl^ stage, tried at the bar and dissected in tl)0 pulpit. In a word, he knew what they were at home in Ireland, just as well as if he had been living with them there all his life time. What had he to ie^v\ He ha4 succeeded so far in various speculations in New England, and how could he possibfy fail in a land of such ignorance and beg- gary as Ireland. To be sure, thfilfe intisjb necessarily be some intelligent men in the country — it could not well be otherwise—-: but what ot that— there were no smart men amongst them* Sniartness iolmkf was every thing. It was the embodiment of all the virtues, moral and intellectual — the only quality for which man desenred 56 THG LA<)V 9f THE fi£ACOJ^ OF ARAHEEi^A. : I' «: ;3 ;J' I!' admiration or respects The estimate he formed of his neighbor's moral worth was not in proportion to his integrity of charac- ter, but to his ability for speculating and driying hard bargains. The man who con- tented himself with a competence and a quiet life at home, he despised, but the jobber m stocks, who was smart enough to make a hit on change, though he risked half a dozen men's lortunes in the chance, was the man after hb heart. Such were Mr. Weeks' sentiments. Nor was he much to blame for them either. For he was bred and born in the midst of specula- tors. Erery iriPQ he met in the street, from the news-boy to the judge, from the policeman to the governor, was a specu)a-< tor in something. He began himself, in' his very infancy, to speculate in marbles and hobby-horses ; and if he made but a cent a week, his father patted him on the head, and prophesied bis future greatness. When arrived at man's estate, he found himself in the company of young men, whose sole study was to make money in the easiest manner and shortest time. He saw them every where engaged in some kind of traffic — no matter what, if it only happened to be literature. Whilst in other countries each grade in the community had its own legitimate trades and occupations, it was not so in the States. There was a uni- versal scramble, in which erery body snatched at what came the handiest. The tailor dropped his needle and mounted the stump, the lawyer burned his briefs to trade in molasses, the shoemaker stuck his awl in the bench, and ascended the pulpit, and the shop-boy flung his yard slick on the counter, and went off to edit a Sunday newspaper. Surrounded on all sides by such influences, what could Mr. Weeks have possibly been but what he was — a speculator in chances — a man of on6 idea — one object^— one aspiration— money. — Learnmg was nothing in his estimation, if it failed to realize money ; nay, the highest mental accomplishment was not only value- less but contemptible without mon6y. itl\ this respect, Mr. Weeks represented a large class; of hist countrymen of New Eng- land — we say a class, for it would be un- just to say more« After having passed I tlirough various trades and professions iu the middl« ranks of American lit^, he was now at last a country lawyer, of limited { practice, and aM things considered, a pretty fair specimen of his countrymen in the dil'-^ ferent grades of society tiirough which he had graduated. He was not an American gentleman by any means, either in habits or education. That was plain the instant he spoke a word or moved a muscle, and those of his fellow citizens who could rightfullj claim that distinction, would never have re- cognized him as one of their number. He was, in short, a Yankee — a man to be met with every day and every where— on the side-walks — at the banks — in the theatre — in the cars — standing at hotel doors pick- ing his teeth — or lobbying for a patent right behind his agent's back in the senate bouse. But to return. With such vievi s and sentiments as we have liere ascribed to Mr. Weeks, it ma^ be easily conceived, with what assurance of success be landed in Ireland, and with what confidence he entered on his plans and speculations. The venture of tobacco was only to defray expenses, according to the custom of his country,- but the posses- sion of Mary Lee as his lawful wedded wife, was the great secret of his journey. Why it was so, the sequel will tell. It ap- pears, however, he had but a limited time to accomplish his designs, for hardly had he reached Crohan, when he called to see Else Curley. The reputation she had ac- quired, ail the country round, for an ungo- vernable passion for gold, and the wonder- ful stories told of her power led him to at- tempt the gaining of her over to his in- terest by tempting her cupidity, and that she as a secret agent might do that which it would otherwise require a long courtship to eflect. How his expectations were met, f A CHRONJCI.E OF INNlSHOWEX. 57 to this resp^ect, will be seen in due course of tbe story. For the present we must leave him to battle with the storm, as best he may, after his desperate, but disastrous rencontre with " Nannie," and follow Else aod the stranger to the « Cairn." CHAPTER X. When Else had placed a rush-light in the wooden candlestick affixed to her spin- ning wheel, and thrown oflf her grey cloak, I she drew a small silver mounted pistol from lier bosom, and laying it on the table, mo- tioned the young man to a seat. «' How come ye here. Master Randall, I at this hour ?" she demanded, « The fates drove me, I suppose," repli- ed her guest, smiling. <« Psaugh ! — this is no time to play the fool — why are ye here, I say ?" drawing down her shaggy eyebrows, and looking sternly at him as she spoke. " Mary Lee's hopes isn't worth a rap farthin in the keepin of sitch a love-sick baby." " Why, how now !" exclaimed the stranger, ^' is Nannie sick, or' old Batt's fiddle broke, that you're so much out of sorts?" *' Master Randall, look at that weapon," said Else, " I risked my life for yer sake and Uer's within this very hour, and carried that with me to defend it. I made this Yankee feel he was in my power, and for that raison didn't know the minit he'd si- lence my tongue for ever, with a pistol ball or a dirk knife. Now I ask ye, is it manly in ye, after this, to come back here again, to idle away yer time try in to get a word or a look at this silly girl, when it's in Dublin or Cork ye'd ought to be strivin to keep her and her uncle out iv the walls of a jail. Hoot, toot, sir, I thought there was more i' the man in ye." « Well, of that," replied Randall (for we must call him so in future,) " of that I can say little ; but be assured Else, no tri- fling obstacle could baulk me on such an er- rand. Nothing but absolute necessity com- pelled me to return." " Necessity !" *^ Yes. The police headed me ofTbelow Burnfoot, after landing from the ferry-boat at Rathmullan, and chased me through Burncranna to Lamberts-point." *' So ye escaped in the skig, I sup- pose ?" "Just had time to jump in, cut the painter, and» shove off, when three of my pursuers spraiig down after roe on the beach." / <' Hah f and fired?" " One of them only. The ball hit me on the head, but did no harm." " Humph !" said Else, sitting down slow- ly on her low ^ creepie stool,' and resting her cheek in tlie palm of her hand, ** and'so that's the way of it j humph ! the blood- hounds got on yer trail aiterall." "Yes, fairly started me," responded Puindall, " when they'll run me down,how- ever, remains yet to be seen." « It looks mighty quare," said Else, half speaking to herself. " What looks quare ?" " How they know ye in that disguise." " It does look a little strange, I must confess," replied Randall, "for I thought it impenetrable to every eye but those of Else Curley and Mary Lee. Judge of rojr astonishment then, when I beheld straight before me, on the first public house door I passed, a full length figure of myself in this very dress." " Tell me," said Else, after reflecting m second or two, " didn't ye wear that dress oust at Father John's ?" " Yes, but it was night then, and no one saw me except the priest and his house- keeper." " Don't be too sure i' that. Master Ran- dall." " Quite sure." " Humph ! did'nt ye tell me about passtn somebody that night, on the road near Crohan gate-house, that seemed to looli: sharp at ye ?" " Crohan gate-house — let me sec. Yes, ds ttil& LADY 01' THE 6EAC0N OF ARMlEERA. 3 remember now. Oh that was some tra- Teller, some stranger, I suspect." • " Was he a tall thin dark a vised man ?" « Yes— rather." " Wore (irape on his hat, and carried a f'limbarcU in his hand?" " Yes." " Humph ! I thought so. He's the very man." M Who r " Robert Hardwrinkle of Crohan." " What ! your great enemy — this Yan- kee's cOusin ?" "Ay indeed, that very Yankee's cousin. He^& the man that bcthrayed ye." :|l^tNo, no, Else, you must be mistaken. Mri Hardwrinkle's a gentleman, and could never be guilty of so treacherous an act." " Cud'nt he then ? humph ! may be so," ' Else, it's notliing but your inve- terate hatred of the man makes you suspect him.". "Hooti toot> Master Randall, dont be foolish," replied Else. " I know what lie is kith and kin, father and son, mother and daugbter, for three score years, an' more. Ayjrfty* tomy own grief I know him. But IsH Jiim iuok to l^raself, for the time's not fan stvfajf when the long recknin atween htm and me must be settled— ^let him look taihimseJfi" T" Do the man no harm on my account, Elsb Guri«yj" said Randall, " if he has really sent these officers on my track, it's OBl)f:Wbata thousand others have done with as liltie shame or scruple^ For my part,! forgive the man, nor- would X hurt a hair in bis I head this moment, if he lay at my feet^*' " Oh forgive him, an welcom," said £be,, " siace yer so good a Christian, for- give him by all manes. I'm sure it's none o' my business if ye forgive him, and marry his leaii sister Rebecca^ the psalm-singer, iafeolhel bargain* All I, say is, let him be ready, there's an. acconnt atween him and me any-way,that nothing but hisrcowardly bleod cad settle*" ; " Why, Else, this is sheer madness," said Randall, reprovingly. " How is it the \Qi'y thought of this inun inflames your resentment so much .?" " So well it might," responded Else, raisins: her head and /oldinsj; her arms on her hard, weatluir-bcatcn heart, as slio look- ed across the table at her companion. '' So well it niiiiht. Listen to me Kandall Bar- ry, — listen to me, and answer me. If tliia man's father first brought yer only sister to sin an shame, and then sent yer brother lo die with irons on his limbs in a strange land, for no other earthly raison than bekase he demanded satisluclion for the injury done his own llcsli an blood — if he turned out yer mother, ould and helpless from the homestead she was born in, and her people afore her, for three generations when the father died,— if the son sent yerself to jail twist e in five years on false charges-when ye came out and built with yer own hands a sheelin to shelter ye from the storms on these blake mountains, if he burnt it over yer head ; ay, ay, and if he driv ye at last, Randall Barry, as he druv mu to burrow here like the ' brock' on the craggs of Benraven— I ask ye, would ye forgive him if he did that to you and yours, I say, and ye felt his neck undhcr yer heel, wyd'nt ye crush it down — down in the dust with as little pity as ye'd feel for the v«rasp that stings ye /"' « Not I," replied Randall, "■ not I. To kill even an enemy, whum you happen to find in your power, is an act of cowardly murder. And, believe me. Else, your own sleep would be none the sounder in the grave for having this man's blood upon your hands." "And yet," retorted Else,' "you and yer companions id stain yer hands with the blood iv thousands, that did ye far less wrong than he did me." " I'erhaps so, but m broad-day light at least, not assassm like, in the dark^. as is evidently your purpose in this case." " I see no difference," replied Else^ SJIrtSB!^-"^'*''^' A Cf^HONICLE OF iNNtSHOWEN. 59 j< flight or day — it's only death nny-way." " Ay, but surely it's a less crime to put the enemies ofyour country and of human liberty to death, in fair field and^open fight, ihan to commit a midnight murder like a cut-throat or incendiary, with the dirk or the hand," " Who spoke of dirk or hand?" demii»id- ed Else. " You did, replied Randall, promptly. — "You did, a dozen times within the month. And now my fear is your new charge against this man will bring dowu your long threatened vengeance on his head sooner than I anticipated. But hear me, Else Curley,— " ^ '• Houltl yer tongue, Randall Barry," interrupted the old woman, " hould yer tongue, yer but a silly boy. IIii ! ha ! its little ye know iv Else Curley 'i the 'Cairn.' Humph ! d'ye think after waitin, and watch- in for my hour of revenge so many long years, I'd bungle it now for your sake ? — lia, ha, poor foolish boy. D'ye think a wo- man like nie, that fursaked God an salva- tion thirty-odd years ago, for fear they'd come atween her and her dark thoughts — a woman whose hopes iv vengeance, day after day, wur like draps iv new life blood to her withered heart ; d'ye ti^ink an out- cast like me, a bein that men dread to luck on, an women spoive iv imdher their breath wud drag out life as I did, for no other raison or motive, but waitin patiently for my hour to come? D'ye think, I say, Ran- dall Barry, I'd let the paltry matther of be- thrayin you to the spies in the castle, bring down the blow one minit sooner than it ought to fall? Pshaugh ! man, ye don't know me yet." '• I know vou to be a dangerous woman," responded Randall, rising from his chair, and bucl waist, 38 if preparing to leave. his belt tighter round his „ .„ . "But I " he continued, " I warn you I no party to this contemplated murder ; and much as you have befriended me. Else Ciirlev, 1 sIkxII nevertbolcss, do warn you, shall be all in my power to thwart your designs against this man. Rebel and felun as 1 am^ I shall never abet or connive at murder, notwithstanding." " And what then" — again demanded Else — " wud ye turn informer ?" " Assuredly — the instant you attempt to execute your hellish purpose." " Then," cried Else, snatching the pistol from the table, and raising up h^r * '*. form from the low stool on which she sat, till she stood erect as a statue before tha young outlaw, her grey eyes flashing fire^ and the muscles of her face quivering witii emotion as she spoke : " I swear by them heavens I never expect to enther, if ye were my own born son, Randall Barry, and offer to save that man from the clutches 'i my vengeance, ye'll die the death." a Tigress," muttered Randall between his teeth, as he threw bis sea cap on his head and turned to quit the cabin. " Ti- gress, I despise your threats." *' Stop," said Else, stepping back and leaning against the door ; " stop young man, and listen to me. It's now fifty long years since yer grandfather. Lieutenant Dick Barry, saved my life at the risk iv bis. own. It was the day Colonel Clinton tutl^ Madeira. He carried me in his own arnv* from the spot where my husband fell. I' made a vow then, on my knees afore God, if iver it come in my way to befriend him or his, I'd do it." "I release you from your vow," sslid Randall, " let me pass." " Hould yer tongue, boy, and listen td me again," cried Else; " you'll n,ot pass here till I spake. Listen tome. X love Mary Lee more nor iver 1 loved lyoman afore barrin the sister that died from me, in shame an a broken heart. Ay, she died in^ thcrie withered arms, she died laughin, Ran- dall Barry, for she died mad — mad — mad; she died with the bloom ot seventeen still' on her cheeks. Listen to me. I love Mary Lee more nor iver I loved woman but her; and well T might loo, for it ■was' 00 THE LAPV OP THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. these hands nursed her on Nnnnie\s milk for eighteen months, till them came to claim her that had the right to claim her. Oh, no wondher she's dear t'me ; no won- dher I'd watch her an guard her like the apple in ray eye. But still mutch as I love her, an much as I love yerself, liatidall Barry, for yer grandfather's sake j still I say as there's a heaven above me, Vd ra- ther see ye both dead at my feet this minit, than part with the hope iv payin back the Ilardwrinkles, mother and son, for the wrongs they did to me and mine. Ha, Ha," laughed the old woman bitterly, as she grew more and more excited, " ha, ha, they burned my cabin twiste to the groun, and driv me out to sleep at night with the black cock an the plover, and to wondher by day, over the dreary mountains, hungry and barefoot, but their hour'il soon come. Ay, ay, I'll be even with them yit. Their own fine house will one day burn brighther than iver my cabin did. Ay, an their own bodies too 'ill shrivel ^-up in the flames till their as spent an weasoped as mine. Ha I ha I let them luck to themselves, the blind fidler's wife, the worker of spells an charms, the woman that'd sell her soul for money, oUld Else Curley i' the *Cairn,' has strength an courage enough left yit, to handle a dirk, or fire a faggot." Handall gaj^ed at her with astonishment as she spoke* Her person seemed to di- late and grow younger as her face swelled with passion. She had broke, with a sud- den snap, the strmg that confined her cap, to relieve her throat from a sense of suffo- cation, and now, as her short grey hair fell in tufts over her forehead and cheeks, she looked like a pythoness, breathless under the frenzy of inspiration. *f My God," said Randall, still gazing at her as she stood, now silent, before him, ♦« is it possible that so much gratitude and love can exist in the same breast with such demoniac hatred for a fellow-creature. — Here is a woman — aye, a very woman — •rho has lived since before I was 4jorn, on the bare hope of being one day able to re- venge her wrongs. That hope was the only ray of consolation that ever fell on her de- solate heart. How great must r\ve been her injuries to have earned so terrible a resentment. And yet this creature loves Mary Lee like a mother, and already has risked her life, more than once, to save mine." " KIse," said he, at length, laying his hand kindly on her shoulder, " I pity you from my heart. Sit down and compose yourself, t would speak with you more reasonably on this subject." She obeyed him instantly, for the touch of his friendly hand softened her more than words could have done. "Tell me," said Randall, *' is this Yan- kee, this cousin of the Hardwrinkles, to be included in the catastrophe z*" " Isio," replied Else, " he niver did me harm." " What business have you with him then?" " I make use iv him to sarve my own ends, nothin more." " And these are" — *< First, that he'd supply mo with money for thravelin expenses, and, secondly, that he'd be an excuse for drawn me about Crohan to watch my chances an lay my plans." " Hah ! I understand yoy. But the tra- velling expenses — where ?" "iNlew York, or wheriver else becomes from. He must send . thrusty messenger to make out where he lives, and ye may be sure Edward Talbot's not far from that." " So you'll employ his own money to de-» feat him?" *• Av coorse," replied Else, « what bet- ther dis he desarve j" <• And why, then, did you acquaint him with your knowledge of the secret ?" *' That he'd pay me well for keepin it." " Good ; but are you sure he'll not feel apprehensive of your disclosing it to Mary or her uncle, at least ?" mm A CtiRONICLK OF f^WlSHOWKN. 81 day able to rc« pc was the only fell on her de^ must ave been d so terrible a creature loves !r, and already an once, to save ?ngth, laying his r, " 1 pity you and compose with you more y, for the touch d lier more than , "is this Yan- dwrinkies, to bo le niver did me you with him ) sarve my own me with money and, secondly, drawn me about (ices an lay my }, But the tra- !r else he comes usty meiisenger , and ye may be far from that." "a money to de- Ise, « what bet- >u acquaint him ! secret ?" for keepin it." e he'll not feel ising it to Mary «jSlot u bit in the world," replied Else, « for he thinks I know no thin sartin about it, an for that raisin won't be in a hurry to bungle it, an, may be, spoil atl---loose iny'own roun bundher, and Mary's fOrtin into the bargain." '< {Still Else, the whole affair is biit a sus- picion of yours after all." "What? about Mr. T mg ?" ulbot being liv* "Yes." « Well, call it whatsomiver name ye plaze, it's sartinty enough for me. An, in- deed, for the matther i' that, Masther Ran- (lally I tliver thought anything else ; but tbat lie was livin somewhere in fuirin parts, afore I seen the letther at all or read a word iv it." " An how will you accoitnt for this Yan- kee's correspondent speaking of the dying man as Lambton, if he be really Edward Talbot?" " Quite aisy," responded Else. " It was the name he went by in America." " Nonsense, woman ! you make the most absurd and ndiQulous suppositions ; would you have him change bis name with bis country ?" " Feth wud I, an good raison he had to do that saipe, let me tell you. Bid'nt he fire a pistol bullet at bis wife, in her own room, with the wean in her arms, the very fame evenin he come home after killing Captain Blenherhasset in a jewel that his own infarnal jealousy driv him to fight, for her sake ; an was there a corner in London nixt day that had'nt a bill pasted up on it, offerin a reward iv a thousan pounds to the first man 'id take him. Humph, raison in- deed, bedad I think that 'd surely be rai- son enough for any man to change his name wheriver he went. Ne, no, Masther Ran- dall, Edward Talbot's livin jist as sure as you're livm, if hedid'nt die since the first iv May last." *' Perhaps so." '* Oh, /een a doubt iv it, and ye'Il see that too, when Lanty comes back." « What, Lanly Hanlon ?» ** Ay, Lanty Hanlo*!, that's his name! aii sirname ; ye heerd of him afore I'll Vrar- rint." " And saw him too. Don't you remcn- ber to have sent him to me two or three weeks ago as a trusty n[iesi$enger, to send on a certain business to Derry ?" " An so I did ! to Father John's it was — well, see there now 1 I niver mind any thing a minit. An so ye sent him ?" " Certainly, on your recommendation." « Well Y^ " Well, he broke trust at the tery out-* set." "Lanty lianlonl" " Ay, Lanty Hanlon. Insteacl of cross- ing the loch at Doughb&g, he strolled dfown the shore to Ballymastocken, to see a cock> fight, and missed the tide." « Oh, feth, as to that," said Else, « I wud'nt put it past him. He^^s the very ould'boy himselfin regard to cock-figbtid.^ " Yes ; but he was made well aware of the urgency of the message, and should hare postponed his personal gratiiicatton till his return.'* "Auch ! hoh ! postpone indeed ! In troth. Master Randall, he'd postpone goin to hea- ven, if there wus a cockfight ithin five miles of him J that an huntin's his wakeness, poor iellow. And what excuse did he make when he came back?" " He never came back to make any.— Instead of that, he sent me word he was in the hands of the police for beating a game- keeper, and would see me as soon as he got clear." « Humph ! not the least doubt of it," said Else, " that's another iv his wakeness- es." < Ha ! ha ! it's rather an odd kind of weakness," observed Randall. " Well, its natural for him, poor fellow, any way, the whole breed of him hated game-keepers for five generations back. — And so the man was too many for him 1'* « No, he made his escape thtn, but the 62 THE LADY OF THE BEAcON OF ARAHfcERA. )4 t^ W. police caugh( liiii^ nevt day. It appears, on iiiii return, he crossed the mountain with his dogs, aud met Lord Leitrim's game-keep- ers, who gave him chase. Two of them he distanced, and the third he led into some lonely spot, heat him there soundly, and then left him gagged with his own hand- kerchief, and tied neck and heels to an old hawthorn tree beside a well, where he was found next morning, half dead from cold And hunger." " It's jist like him," said Else, "for the villain's uiver out of mischief. But still he's as true as steel when ye keep him away from timptation." " And how is that to be done, pray ; will he not meet with as much temptation on his way to the United States and back, as he does here in the parish of Cloudava- dacT « Not he,'' replied Else, " I'll trust him for that. The minit he finds it's on Mary Lee's affairs, he's goin, the sarpint himself wud'nt tempt hiir." " Is he so devoted to her ?" :^* Ay, ye may well say it. rie' rction, Strang*' as it was, did not appear t/ ex ite the youn^ man's curiosity in the least ; lie glanced merely vt Else as she de- scended, and then leaning iu^ head on his ham!, he composed himself to wait patienti/ for her return As he sat tJiere by the table in the dun light of the rush candle, there was nothing about his person worthy of special notice. His fij^ure was light and graceful, his limbs well moulded and muscular, and his height, if we could judge fairly in the posture he had taken, a little above the middle size. His long black hair fell in disorder over the low collar of his blue jacket, from the breast pockets of which the butts of a pair of travelling pistols still peeped out. His cravat, as we have said already, was knot- ted loosely in front, sailor fashion, and re- vealed a neck by far too fair, for a sea-farr ing man, and one it would have puzzled a detection-officer to reconcile with his gene- ral apperance. But if there was nothing striking m his person, there was that on hu handsome face which gave i;''^;acter and interest to the whole man — a situde of quiet melancholy, which at once impressed the beholder with the conviction that the young outlaw was no lover of war or blood-shed for the gratification they afforded him, but reluctantly adopted as a last and desperate resource for retrieving the fallen fortunes of his country. His countenanc was calm and compolsed, without a trace of the socialist or the red-republican to vulgarize its fine expression. . u THE LADY OF TH£ BEACON OF ARAHEERA. )•* ■• t, " Ay, ay," said he at lengthy his voice barely audible as he mnrmured out the words, ** let my father disinherit me if he will, and the spies of the government dog me step by step till they drive me at last to bay, like the stag among the rocks of the ocean, still, I shall neither sue for pardon, nor fly from the land of my birth and my affection, to heg a home on a foreign shore. To abandoh Mary Lee would now be im- ipOsteiMe, irere she as indifferent to me as the itieMiest peasant girl in the kingdom ; but were -^e even dead to-morrow and all my hopes buried with her in the grave, I shovM wait, and watch, and bide my time 16 renew the contest, I should still cling to Hie hope that God in his own good time would inspire the young men of the land to rise oncemore — not as wranglers and braw- lers— ^not as mercenary anarchists and sor- did demagogues, but like spartan brothers to do and dare, and die for their country's "ireal. To see that blessed day I could eke tlUt life in the lowest caverns of my na- •tiv« bills. To behold the sun-burst, as of €M, waving once more before an army of gieilialit young Irishmen — ^^true to the sacred «a«se,'and to each other — true to right, to jastice and to honor. Oh, to see such an "apmy in battle array on the sunny slopes of ^M C/lontarf, marching down with fife and dwr:^ and colors flying, to drive the Saxon dogs'i&om their long lost 'homes and plea- "^OMit firesides, and to be allowed to strike otte good blow myself for the sake of old tiliMis and oW memories, oh Mary Lee, iiiry Lee-'-^nuch as I love you, I could 4lbaBdon you for this. But, alas ! alas ! yitera must elapse ere this ran happen ; 'OieiMiwhile I wander among the hills a rebel %Wlti an ooltlaw, hunted and proscribed lika the vilest malefactor. Be it so, • I have risked my all on a single cast and lost it. Wdl, I shall try to abide the consequence 88 best I may. Let them hunt, me and C8t(ihme^hen,'if they can. Til disappoint ^tlhem so long as I'm able to defend myself. When I can no longer do either, 1 needs must submit." « There," said Else, einerging froM t!i<^ as this, when the strongest of us can scarcely carry ourselves against thesfiorm. Oh ! as for that, you need'nt be the laste afeerd in life ; he's the very man yer looking for as sure as your name's Ned Grifiin." " Say, what Lanly d'ye mean," said Weeks, « Lanty Hanlon— eh /" " Niver mind," replied the bailiff, " it makes no difference to you who he is." " Well not much, I guess, but if I could see him just as well as not, I might save you further trouble on my account. Let me see, he lives in this here neighborhood somewhere, don't he 1" " Come, come, my good fellow this hood- winking won't take just as present. You may be very smart and cunning, and all that, but I have had some twenty years ex- perience of gentlemen of your profession. So come on, we'll take you down here to one of these houses in Ballymagahey for the night, and carry you before Mr. John- ston to-morrow. You can then call on Lanty Hanlon to give you a character, and as many more as you pla^e. Lift your feet, and they'll fall themselves," he added, grasping the unfortunate Weeks by the collar. <' Come away out of this rain ; come, trot, my customer, trot— you've legs enough if you only use them." « Trot h— II I !" vociferated Weeks at last, loosing patience ; " if you don't let go my collar this instant I'll blow your brains out. Away you ignorant, beggarly sava- ges — confound you, to take me for a cow thief. Away — make tracks this minute or by" " Be aisy, my valiant fellow, be aisy," said the bailiff, still gripping him by the collar. « No, I sha'nt," cried Weeks—" let me go-r—I'll not put up with this, no how." " Don't fret— -we'll put you up, and in lavender too, never fear." " I tell you once more I'm Ephraim C. B. Weeks, cousiu-germau to the Hard- wrinkles of Crohan." " Oh thin, bad scran to tl^e much ye need boast of the connection," replied Henley, helping the bailiff to drag him down the hill. " Unhand me, villians, unhand me, I'm a 6» THE I.ADY OP THE BEACOK (^ ARAHBERA. Mi 8trangn»e two dozen flies, last Thursday, at Kuidrimi pond ?" " Me sell you flies ; ha, ha, ba ! Why upon my conscience, my good fellowy y ff Stop that fiddle there, and listen to the P]»ak«r." M'' Here's then to the honest man," cried I^anty, raising his glass, <* here's to the hon- est taaft all over the world, and confusion to, the narrow minded knave who'd make jjreligion or birthplace a test 6f friendship," 9114 tossing off the bumper, he ordered the company to pass the bottle. 4i£^oundtvent the toast, and off went the glasft with many a loud hip-hip, hurrah.— ^^ere .was shaking of hands, and touching of cans j accompanied by snatches of songs suitsible to the toast, and pledges of friend- ship to ime another, not forgetting long life and happfness to the bride and groom ; all seemed as joyous and happyas they co\iW wish to be, Mr. Weeks alone excepted, who stood still there in the centre of the crowd, looking silently on the noisy enjoy- ments of the company, and obstinately re- fusing all participation in the hilarity of the occasion. " Where, in the name of patience, were! you: born at all," deiYiamled tlie bailiff, ''that you won't drink at a weddin." *< He's an unnatural lookin' thief) any way," exclaimed another. " Stand aside boys,*' commanded Laritf, waving his haAd frpm his elevated position, " and let us give the stranger fair play.— He's all alone here aihongst us, and wis mus'nt be hard on him. Jemtny Branigail fill that glass, and offer it to him again. And no^, my good man," hecontinued, ad- dressing Weeks, " you heerd the toasi < the horiest man all over the world, and bad luck to the knave who'd make religion or birthplace a test of friendship' — will yon drink iti" ' ^ " No," replied Weeks, *' darn me if I do." " Then ginrtlemen, lay hira down and ad- ministher the medicin." Four or five stout fellows now laid hoM of the unfortunate Weeks, and were deli- berately proceeding to execute Lanty's or- ders, when a new actor suddenly appeared in the scene, and commanded them to de- sist. It was the handsome dark haired girl whom the reader saw a few minutes before entering the room, leaning on Lan- ty's arm. " Shame ! shame !" she cried, " are ye men, to treat a stranger in his way 1" " Don't be onaisy Kate," replied Lanty, " we don't intenrl him the laste harm in life." " Well, you've carried the joke too far already, Lanty Hanlon-; let him come with nie — I'll take care of him." " Why, Kate, it's only a bit of a frolie he brought on himself. He tould me a dozen times the Irish were no better nor A CHRONICLE 0|>' INMSHOWUiN. 78 *' dim me if I lira down and ad- tiUgeit aod we jist want to shew \4m how ^l^ch he's n;iistaken " « An(;l you do this to a furrlner not u month in the countr/ — paugh ! purty hospi- jUdity, that." " He's green, you know, Kate, and we ^ant to saison him." << Ha, ha, saison him." " It's for bis own good- ffill make a dacent man iv him." « Hould yer tongue, now Lanty, ye'd prQVoke a saint, hould your tongue, and let us out. I must go and hnd some dry clothes for him, or he'll die in this condi- tion. Stand back, gintlemen, if ye plaze, 9Qd give us roon» to pass." « Bedad, Kate, I'm afraid to trust ye with him, feth may be he'd take a fancy to saisoning in time yfi) and cut me out." « Whisht now, and let me go. That tongue of yours '11 hang ye up on the gal- lows yet some day," and taking Weeks fa- p|i|;iar/y by the arm, in she led him through one of the inner doors of the apartment. The dance was now resumed, and mirth and music made the time pas$ quickly apd- merrily for the next hour. Lanty danced with every girl in the room, and when he could rio longer find a partner, he danced a hornpipe himself on a door, amid the shouts and cheers ot the party. Every one seem- ed to share in the general joy. Even the grand parents of the happy couple, old as they were, took each other's hands and Tfent through some ancient saltations to the great amusement "of the younger spec- tators^ On went the mirth and up rose the song, apd the little haunch-backed fiddler had just tuned his instrument once more, and com- menced to rattle away at a country dance with rei^ewed ardor, when all of a sudden a shoqt was heard at the door, followed in- stantly by brayos! bcayosi echoed and re- peated, till at last, in the midst of a vvild hurrah ! in drove Ephraim C. B. Weeks, dressed in an old blue swallow-tailed coat| and pantaloons that descended hut an inch or two bcloiv the knees, dragging in the young lady.wiio had so kindly rescued him from his'iate tormentors, and in rather un- steady acents, commanded the fiddler to *' fire up, and let him have something to dance to." Every body now crushed and crowded round to welcome him back. — Those wiio but a short time before were disposed to mortify him to the very utmost in revenge for his insolent abuse of their religion and their country, were the first to call Cor three cheers ibr the << bould Ame- rican," and foremost among the first was Lanty Hanlon, who clapped him lustily on the back, and ordered the fiddler to strike up something with a << sowl in it to sbuit the taste of the jolly Yankee." It is needless, dear reader, to describe what followed. Weeks seemed to have abandoned himself entirely to the excite- ment of the monient. How that excite- ment was brought about, however no one could tell. He drank, and drank freely — as was evident the moment he made his ap- pearance at the door, but whether at the solicitation of his fair friend, or merely to preserve his health after so long an expo- sure to the storm, was never discovered ; certain it is he was completely fascinated by his lovely partner, and danced with her M long as he was able to move a foot — sweiir- ing all the while by his " crackie," she was the finest gal in all creation, and went through her figures like a real thorough bred Yankee, " no mistake about it." " Here, dear reader, we must stop, leav- ing the last scene in the little comedy to your own charitable imagination ; tor a description of our friend Mr. Weeks' posi^ tion on the stage as the curtain fell} woi^ be more than we should dare a.ttenpt,-T4. One thing, we ongbt to wentipn (just to relieve your aQxiety), he vf^a GpnyeyteOi safely home that same night and a^^ke. in his own comfortable bed wnt m9tjm$ in Crohan house* 74 THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF ARAHGERA. CHAPTER XII. - " Is Miss Fetcrsham engaged, please ?" said a servant, opening the parlor door. ^' No : what's the matter 1" ** Father John sends his compliments, and wishes to see the Captain." " Father John ! — is it possible!" ex- claimed Kate Petersham, wheeling round on the piano stool, and running to the door to receive him. ** Ho, ho, indeed, so there you come at last, and Uncle Jerry too, surely something extraordinary must have happened to bring you all th% way to Cas- tle Gregory. Has there been a conflagra- tion or an earthquake in yoUr neiij:hbor- " Hold your saucy tongue," said the priest, slapping her affectionately on the cheek, "you're never done scpiuing, 'pon my word, I had better pome here, bag and l><^ggme, sir, to Cas- le ', if what bis ik he deserves "You don't! is it possible! Why, I thought Swift was a favourite everwhere." ^ *• He's only fit for girls and schoo) boys." « You must iidmit he's witty and humor- ous, Doctor." " Well, yes — that and a keen sense of the ridjculpus is about all that's in him." Oh, no, no. Doctor, I won't agree to that at 9II ; you quite underrate Swift. — For my part, I think there's more sound philosophy in Swift than in apy other man's work I ever read." " Humph — have you read much ?" " No ; sometimes when the fit takes me, I pick up a book and read a page or two here and there." , " But do you study what you read ?" Not 1, Pm too great a mad-cap for that. [ can ride a horse, though, or sail a boat, as well as any girl in Ireland, and these are the only accomplishments I pretend to lay claim to." Not very feminine, I should think," eja- culated Horseman, pursing out his lips in his peculiar way, and looking over at the priest, with his eyes dilated into what he intended for a smile. ""No, sir ; but they suit my turn of mind. And yet Mr. Guirkie hfere will tell you I've got some philosophy in me, too." "I'll have nothing to do ^vith your phi- losophy," said Uncle Jerry, pacing up and down the room, and bobbing the skirts of his coat on his hands behind hini. " I wish to the Lord the Captain would come home ; that's all I wish." J* Father John, go to the sideboard there, and find some refreshments. Come, Doc- tor, you must pledge me in good stout Bur- gundy, and I'll forgive what ypu said of Swift.'? " I shall wait for the Captain," replied Father John, looking up from the newspa- per, " the Doctor there will oblige you at present." ^* You shall nqt, sir ; he may not return for an hour yet. Wait for the Captain ! Am I not as good company as the Cap- tain. Oh, Dr. Horseman, these Catholic priests are the most ungallant people i^ jail creation, as you say oyer there in the States." Dr. Horseman took a quid of tobacco from his mouth, flung it into the grate, ao«! then emptied the glass which Kate filled for him, adding, as he laid it on the sideboard, " you're not so mawkish, I perceive, as our young ladies generally are." " Oh, I'm an Irisli girl, you krow ; I do what I please — no one minds me ; Father John there oi^ce thought he could manage me, but it failed him." " Not I," replied the priest, " I never was so silly as to think any such thing." " You did — you need'nt deny it, you had me in leading strings for a whole week oc more." " How wa^ that paid Horseman. " He tried to convert me, ha, ha. KjBpt me reading night and day" " Convert you — what from, sin ?" " No, from Protestantism— sin, indeed ! why. Doctor, Pm ashamed of you." " "Well, Protestantism is sin — and ipost grievous sin too," exclaimed Horseman. '' Thece now, you're at it again," muttered Uncle Jerry, ptill pacing the room in hiii usual way. " You're at it agaipj I vow and protest it's outrageous." . " You frighten me, Doctor," said Kate, " upon my word I'll run away and leave you." " But don't you know my good girl,^hat if you die out of the Catholic Church you'll be losti" " Listen to that," exclaimed Kate. " I hear him — the Doctor's very strong on that point." " Well, Doctor, Pm not prepared to dis- pute with you. about ^he matter, at pre- sent," said KatOj " but I'm pretty sure of one thing — ^you could never make a Catho- lic of nie in that way." " He's got himsplf . into trouble , again,'* said Uncle* Jerry, sitting down on a chair beside the priest. 76 YHE LADY OF TliE QjBACON OV ARAHEERA. ■if? til e* ** ^ dcserycs it," responded the latter, in a tone of displeasure. " I declare I never saM^ a man in ply life so fond of differing with every body as he is. Why, I vow to goodness, I thought he was going to swallow me neck and heels this morning in the boat, when I attempted tQ defend TiJIotson an^ Burnet." ** That's his greatest fault, he can nevjer xlispute five minutes without losing his tem- j>er." << And does he suppose people ^lust put i|p with it when he chooses to lose it 1 Ila, ha, 1 declare that's very fine." " It's 9 great weakness in him, and I'm aonff for |)e's a man of great mei^ital abili- ty." *' Oh ! \irho cares for his mental ability. I would'nt give a brass button for a man who can't talk with you on any thing but great hesjivy subjects. And then l^e goes at them in such a way too, with all his might, jyst like a dray horse sturjting a load." "^ " Heayy subjects are his especially," ob- served Father John, f he don't pretend to handle ^^y thing else. And indeed, as a polemic 9pd logiciap, he has very few equals." " But he does pretend to handle every thing else. Why, he reviews every book he can lay his hands on — stories, novels, poetry, every thing — from a primer to a course of theology. Speciality, indeed !" ^* You're right ; he has been doing some- thi^^ that way of late, now that I remem- ber. But the truth is, I think so little of his literary criticisms that I don't care to read them. He never should attempt to criticise such books at all. The^ are en- tirely out of the sphere of i|ii; t^ste and ac- cmirements." **To be sure they are," sajd Uncle ** And then he goes about them sio awk- wardly." " He ! he ! he !" chuckled Uncle Jerry, ^* awkwardly— that puts me in njind of his last number. Did you see |^is crit^isQ) there on Camejron's Book of Poems /" << No — what does he do wijtji it? Sjtran* gles it, I suppose." << No he makes an exception to his rulfi in this case. Hie praises it gently. Cam- eron's a Catholic, I understand." " Ah, yes, there's something in th.^t. — Well." *f In speaking of some of the fine pas- sages he tries to be exceedingly nice ii) hi^ appreciation of the beauties." <'Nice. 11a! ha!" laughed Fatlier John» " that's good ; I myst read the critir cisip." ** Do. It's wQrth the readjng, I assure, you." " But he must l^^ye gone about it very awkwardly." " Awkwardly. He ! he | he reminded me of an elephant I once sa\y picking up. a boquet with his trunk. He first made a — ^< Hush, here he comes," interrupted Father John, " and full of indignation at Kate's presumptuous boldness. SSee boW he runs his thumbs ir^to his waistpoat pock-^ ets — that's a sure sign he's rulj3e(|« Katp," he added as an offset to further coptrp^ V^rsy, " can't we haye some music?" " Certainly — what shall it be 1'* " Yankee Doodle |" "Excellent — ^just the very thing," she cried, opening the piano and rattling nvf^y, f' How do you like it, Doctor ]" " Well, so, so. Associations mak^ U pleasant just now." " Make you think of home !" « Yes." " What tbink you, though, of our Jrisb inusic ?" " Very fair, but it always give iq^ the blues." "The blues I" ^* Yes. It's so melancholy." " Moore's songs are indeed, rather mel- ancholy, bi)t exquisite of their kind, never-> theless." << Yes — he's a very decent lyric pdet, is A dHRONfCLC OF iMlSllOVim, li Moore, and still there's notbinor jn him trf- ter all blit sentiment and fancy — he's great" \j wantitfg in force and power of thought.'' " Thnt is to say, he's neither Byron nor Milton 1" « No, I don't mean that, either. But he tires you with the incessant play of his fancy. He is forever hopping from bower to flower, like a butterfly." «Ah! then you adopt the eiiticisms of the Edinburgh Review." <j is. ** Hillo ? what are you doing there, Mr. Guirkie," exclaimed Kate, " chatting away with Father John, and I all alone here with this great foreign Reviewer, trying to defend my country from utter annihilation ; come to rescue, or he'll not leave us one of th-^m." " What's the matter ?" inquired the priest, looking over his shoulder. " Why, he's actually making mince meat of all our celebricies. He has come down as far as Burke, and is cufiing him up at such rate that nothing will be left of him, by and bye, but the bones " The priest threw his legs across and pulled down his waistcoat with a jerk, but said nothing in reply. " You're growing angry," said Uncle Jerry. "No, I'm not angry, I'm too well ac- customed to him, for that." " Poor Kate's as mad as a hatter, look how she shakes her curls at him. The man might try to be a little more courtepus, I think, even on our account." t^ " Were he in any other place but Castle Gregory, he wouldn't come off so easily I assure you," responded the priest. "There now," cried Kate, running away from her antagonist, and flinging her- self' down besidf , Uncle Jerr) on the sofa, " I won't dispute another syllable with him — he has no mercy at all. He opens his great broadsides on every thing indis- criminately, and goes firing away atyou all the time his ponderous logic. He has murdered me out and out, 1 hav'nt had sUch a quarrel these, five years. Heigh! he looms over me like a nightmare." " And why did you continue at it so long.?" " What could I do, am I to be challeng- ed at my own fireside, and by a stranger too, and not fignt 1 O could I only get him once aboard the Water Hen with a stiff breeze from the southard, or on * Moll Pitcher's' back for a morning's heathing, if I would'nt have my revenge no matter." " So you've surrendered at last, Kate," said the priest, walking over leisurely to the sofa, and tapping his snuff box on the hd. " Of course I have, how could I under- stand all the theories and philosophies and systems into which he dragged me. If be only could talk as other men do, and on subjects that girls like me are generally acquainted with, I might do well enough ; but, botheration to a thing you can say but he reduces to logic in a minute, and mea- sures it by some one of his new theories, as a haberdasher would measure a yard of tape." 'f He don't give latitude enough, Kate," said the priest, taking a pinch. " No, he holds you like a Irice. And then he so bewilders you with his newly im- ported principles and methods, and so on that you don't know what you're saying. But Father John, could you guess how he tries to account for the decay of na- tions /" " Oh ! hoh ! the decay of nations, no less.'' "Yes, indeed — a subject I know as much about as old Thomas there. Tho- mas, tell Aunt Willoughby, Father John wants to see her." " Well, let us hear how he accounts for it." is^^^iijwms^^^sim^WiBi^BV^™ A CHRONICLE OF INNlSHOWEM. 79 I accounts for " Why, sir, lie accounts for the decay of nations gener?.Iiy, and of the Irish nation in particular by the laws that regulate the circulation of matter." «Ha! J a! Go, you mad creature," said the priest, again slapping her on the cheek, " you're a making him worse than he is." " It's a positive fact, sir," persisted Kate. " He says as the world is develop- ed, the attractive power of new countries becomes greater than those of the old, and carry away from their weaker neighbors, through the atmosphere, more than their share of animal and vegetable life." " Ha, ha, ha," laughed Uncle Jerry, quitting the sofa, and bobbing his skirts up and down the room. " Ha ! ha ! the man's fit for the mad house. I declare ! account for the decay of nations by laws regulating the circulation of matter^ Oh the Lord be about us, what's the world coming to, at all, at all." *'That reminds Ine of an article I read in some magazine last week,where the writer discovers the antipathy of the Irish to the English people to have originated in the difference between the Roman and the Cel- tic civilizations." *^ Ha ! ha ! he went far back to find it, did'nt he," said Uncle Jerry, bobbing away as^he spoke. ''He was right, nevertheless," said Horseman, who had been listening. ''I agree with him." "Right or wrong," said the priest, <' of what earthly advantage is it to us to discover the caus«— is not the fact enough ?" "No, sir, it is not enough," replied Horseman, " as a priest and a Christian, you should feci happy to be able to ascribe this national antipathy to ?« more credit&ble cause ihan the memory of past injuries." " That rebuke is unmerited by me, Dr. Horseman," responded the priest^ kindling K up a litte. " I deplore those unhappy dif- ferences between the two countries as much as any man." '' A nd still you're never done dinning in our ears how you've suffered and bled, all that under the lash of the Saxon, — in America we are sick of it." " Humph ! don't doubt that the least. There has been, I must confess, rather too much of this clamor about our rights and our wrongs. But my dear Doctor I sus- pect very much your sickness arises from another cause." "What's that r " Your Anglo-SaxonisTC." "I am an Anglo-Saxon," responded Horseman, promptly, " and what of that. Have I not reason to feel as proud of my Anglo-Saxon, as you do of your Celtic ori- gin. Has not the Saxon been as good a Catholic as theiCelt — and as good a sol- dier. I am an Anglo-Saxon, sir, and to the back bone." " Precisely — and that's one reason you dislike the Irish so much." " You're mistaken, sir, I do not dislike the Irish. I love and admire them for their staunch adherence to the faith of their fathers — but" " Ay, ay, but, — that's the rub. You love them in the abstract, but you hate them in detail.'" " Mr. Brennan, I see you're detennined to misunderstand me," exclaimed Horse- man, drawing himself up, and running bis thumbs into the arm holes of his waistcoat. *^ You're disposed to regard me as your countrymen do in the States." "How is that r* " Native American." " Precisely. You're as much a Nati?c American as you can, and be a Catholic, or rather youVe first American and then you're Catholic." " Sir, I protest this is the most extraor- dinary" « Oh pshaugh J Doctor, don't try to play that trick on me. You've caught the con- so THE LADir OF THE BEaCOK OF ARAHEERA. ;> I ■■I I tn^onv that now prevails all over the Unit- ed 3tat«s, and in its most malignant form." *< You mean " £ii <« I mean hatred of the Celt. And how imah of your intelligence and Catholic sentiments can entertain . such feelings, is more than T can well understand." "'You're personal, Mr. Brennan." " I'm candid. You dislike the Irish, tiiat's my firm conviction." (( it?s y-our assertion, sir." " Dr. Horseman, I am not disposed to ouarrel with you on the subject, nor indeed . s it worth quarreling about, for it matters little to the Irish, whether you happen to be their friend or foe. But it appears v6ry odd to me, after all your professions of regard fbr the Irish, how you manage to see their faults sooner than their professed enemies. Since you landed on these shores nothing seems to please yc*. Our people are lazy and ignorant, our clergy indolent, our schools and colleges slow and undiscip- lined; even our great men have not escaped your contempt — ^Burke, Grattan, O'Con- nell, Curran, Goldsmith, SheHdan, Banim, Swift, Moore — not one of them you have not spoken of in terms of the grossest dis- paragement." '■ <* Sir, Vm not to sit here, and listen to all this" " You have drawn it all on yourself. Doctor. ** Why, you've been hardly in- troduced here to Miss Petersham, when you offended her national pride, by the con- temptuous language you use in speaking of her countryman — confessedly one of the greatest men of modern times." " I may express my opinion,! presume ?" " Certainly, sir, but you should retlect that yo'u!re a stranger, and expected to treat us at leii^t with common civility." '* Yo# are very severe Mr. Brennan." " I speak the truth, sir, and that I fear is somibfhing you cannot vjjry well bear to be told." ^#':0mm' \ji^^ A CURQ^ICLE OF INr«ISUOW£N. 85 id to himself) at and returning to ra, it's a might; in here all aiont e, an not a sowl now what Mary ot there to take christenin. I'm " he continued now lay motion- , ** I'msayin,)e'd )r if ye'd let me )me weighty busi- It." at in the laste.— till mornin, any peated the negro, ve." 3 the fear of ye, frightened than e at all." •I'm not goin to :hein, without as ? even a draw of start, my darlinj — come, up my Ciiristian's back, ior ye little ex- hard to be left ;, but Lanty was Ned Callahan's Lelly for a part- ptalion. Alter gs, he succeeded aiid on the top hen backing in, round his nerk is handkerchief. Dw faint, and h\l m hnrnj started ig to leave hirn When he reached the Castle, however, he found all the office houses locked. The 0.1/ door in fact he saw open, after hawk- ino- his load all over the place, was the great hall of the castle itself. So after some hesitation he took courage and in he went. Looking round the spacious hall for some time, and seeing no one coming, he determined at last to deposit the negro on a door mat, and then having rung the bell, to disappear as fast as possible. Unfortu- nately, however, he selected the wrong place but worse still, io turning round to drop the negro behind him, he stumbled backwards, burst open the parlor door where the com- pany we have just left were quietly seated, and rolled into the middle of the room, with the negro's arms clasped around his neck like a vice. The uproar was awful. Mrs. Willough- by screamed, Mr. (xuirkie shouted thieves and murder, Dr. Horseman upset the table with the lights, in his eftbrt to lay hold of his aristocratic antagonist, as sha fell faint- iug from her chair. Kate ran to one door, and the priest groped his |Svay to another, calling on the servants. Withm the room all was darkness and confusion.. Uncle Jerry, in his attempts to escape, upset chairs, tables, tumblers, decanters, dumb- waiters, and every thing else that came in his way. Mrs. Willoughby, in a fit of hysterics wriggled furiously in the stal- wart arms of the burly Reviewer, whilst Lanty kicked and swore lustily at the " blackguard blackamoore" to let him go. At length the servants came running in with lights, one after another, all out of breath, and inquiring what had happened. The shouts aud screams of the party had attracted to t)ie spot every domestic in the bouse, from tJk> boot-boy to the steward. But iReir stay however, was short, for the iR\;Ui)t their eyes fell on the negro's black <"ac€. they mistook him for a certain gen- tleman of the same color, and away they lied, treading ou each other others heels, din grew ten times greater than U was be- fore. ^ " What's all this clamor about," cried , the priest, motioning back the affrighted;, servants. " Brave fellows you are to be scared in this way by the black face o a poor African. But where's Lany Haacn,'*. he added, suddenly recollecting b ' <' away, and bring the vUlian here forthwith, he's the cause of all this trouble. Briog hUn here instantly." " Lanty Hanlon, where are you ?" shout<- ed one. " Lanty Hanlon, the priest wants you I" _ cried another. But no answer came. Lanty was gpne. / vsir CHAPTER XIII. Captain Petersham, booted and spurred^ and accompanied by an officer in undress constabulatory uniform, entered the parlor the moment the servants rushed in with the lights, and there beheld to his utter amaze-? ment the insensible form of his venerable aunt in the brawny arms of a swarthy look- ing stranger. The groans of the unfortu- nate African on the floor, and the cries of Uncle Jerry mingling with the screams and confusion of the affrighted servants, left him no room to doubt the man in the short-skirt- ed coat and stinted pantaloons was a bui- glar J and fired with indignation at the out- rage thus offered his relative, he snatched a pistol from the mantle piece, and bounding over chairs, tables, broken glasses, and every thing else that lay in his way, pre- sented the weapon at the head of the be- wildered and astonished reviewer. <•^Villian, desist," he cried, " or in half a second I'll blow your brains out." " Hold on sir," ejaculated Horseman, — " remove your weajjon." " Lay down the lady on the sofa, sirrah — lay her down instantly !" " Are you mad, sir, — IlKiveno,no " Down with her, or by »> J) till morning.—' j and screeching like very demons, tdl the' The Doctor feeling the cold muzzle of 86 THE LADV OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. M V ■ H\I f> » tlic pistol touch iiis forehead, dropped his burden as suddenly as if he had been a bar of hot iron, and then drawing himself up and pursing out his lips, demanded to know who ht was that dared ussault him thus. " Silence, villain," again thundered the Captain, " silence." "Sir, I'm no villain, and I demand " " Another word," and the excited Cap- tain again raised his weapon." But the police officer fearing the Cap- tain's fiery temper might drive him to ex- tremities, arrested his arm, and begged him to see to the lady while he took charge of the prisoner. "Hold him fast, then," he cried. " Let him escape at your peril. Ho ! there," he continued, shouting to the servants — ^" ho ! there, rascals, let two or three of you re- move Mrs. Willoughby to her room and the others start off and scour the country for the rest of the gang ; five pounds for the first capture ; come now, my lads, lose no time, tumble out and be active." As the excited Captain rushed from the parlor after issuing his orders, he came full tilt against Uncle Jerry, and laid him sprawling on his back. "Thank^you," said the latter, "that's very nice, upon my word.— well, I vow and declare," he added, as he kicked up his lit- tle gaitered legs, and wriggled like a cap- sized crab, " I vow and declare there's not such another place as Castle Gregory in the whole world." " Kate Petersham ! Kate Petersham j Hilloa, Kate, where are you?" cried the Captain, leaving Mr. Guirkie to his own resources. " Here," said a voice behind him. The Captain turned, and to his surprise beheld Kate in an arm chair, her head thrown back, her hair all down over her shoulders, and her whole frame convulsed with laughter. " What ill the name of all the furies does this mean ?" exclaimed the Captain beginning to suspect some mistake. But Kate, to save her life, could not ar^- ticulate a syllable \ all she could do was to point to Uncle Jerry, on the floor. " Who is he ?" said the Captain— and turning to the prostrate man, he seized bini by his arm and raised him on his feet. " Why, how now, is jit possible — good heavens ! — how came you here, Mr. Guir- kie?" "That's not the thing. Captain; the question is, how Pm to get away, for the devil's in the house." " Where is Dr. Horseman ?" enquired the priest, stopping a servant running across the hall. " Who the deuce is Dr. Horseman ?— What — w^nd Father John here too. Can you explain this uproar, Father John?" said the Captain. " Lanty Hanlon's the cause of the whole of it — but I must leave you with Mr. Guirkie — he can enlighten you on the sub- ject whilst I go in quest of the Doctor." " Lanty Hanlon ! he's the very devil, that fellow. Why, there's an officer of police in the house this moment, in search of him." "For what?" " For an aggravated assault on a foreign- er of the name of Weeks." "The Yankee/" " Yes, the Crohan man." " Well, upon my credit," said Uncle Jerry, " I'm quite sure he deserved all he got, for he's a very presumptuous fellow. What d'ye think. Captain? He had the impudence to tell me that a horn on a hair's ear for a June fly, was all a humbug.— He, he — just imagine a stranger tell me that, after fishing over five years in these waters." " Can no one tell me where is Dr. Horseman V* enquired the priest a second time, accosting Mr. Guirkie and the Cap- tain. " Dr. Horseman again. Who the mis- chief is Dr. Horseman?" demanded the Captain. A CHRONICLE OF INNISIIOWEN. 87 « A friend of mine I brought with me to see Castle Gregory." « A very weighty man," muttered Uncle Jerry. "Weighty man r "Yes, indeed — he's that both in mind and body. He wields theology like a sledge hammer." " Hold," exclaimed the Captain, " I fear I've made a confounded blunder. Does tbb Doctor wear a short-tailed coat and 1" « He, he ! rather stumpy," giggled Un- cle Jerry — <' something like a thrush that lost the tail featheis." " Good heavens ! what have I done ! — That must be the very man I left just now in the breakfast parlor, in custody of the officer." «Ha! ha! he! he!" chuckled Uncle Jerry again, " that's glorious!" « Why, I took him for a robber in the act of carrying off my aunt." " Excellent ! he ! he ! excellent. Capi- tal idea, such a man as Dr. Horseman carry avay your aunt in his arms. Ha, ha!" *, Are you ready ?" cried Kate, march- ing up to the Captain with a cutting whip in her hand, aud the strap of her riding cap under her chin. " Don't provoke me, Kate." " What, sir, turned coward 1 and your whole retinue in the field." " Begone, I say." " And your venerable relative wrested from the very arms of one of the gang. Oh, my valiant brother, how low hast thou fallen I" The Captain retreated into the parlor, but Kate followed him. " Shall I have the five pounds if I suc- ceed ? — five pounds you know, for the first capture." "Begone this minute," ejaculated the mortified Captain, turning short and pursu- ing he,r; but the mirth-loving, mad-provoking girl, was too swift for hnn, and fled from the room laughing till the spacious hall rang again. But to return to the prisoner in the breakfast parlor. The wrath of the distinguished reviewer, on finding himself shut up in custody of a police officer, knew no bounds. "Open that door, sir," he exclaimed, violently, pointing at it with his finger — ^'* open that door instantly, and give me free pas- sage from this infernal house." " Keep quiet, my good man," coolly re- plied the officer — ^^ keep quiet." " Stand from the door," vociferated Horseman, raising his ponderous arm, " or I shall fell you to the earth." " If you don't keep your temper, I'll handcuff you again," replied the officer with as much coolness as before. " Handcuff me ! Sirrah," cried Horse- man, running his thumbs into his waist- coat and swelling up till he looked like. a Jupiter Tonans. " Handcuff me, — caitiff." " I have shackled as strong men in my time." " You presumptuous pigmy," grDwIed the Doctor, and he shot at his keeper a look of withering scorn like Glenalvon when he said to the young Douglas : ' Knowest thou not, Glenalvon, born to com- mand Ten thousand slaves like thee' — " Pray, fellow, what do you take nie for 1" at Wngth he added, a little cooled down under the officer's imperturbability of look and tone. ** A robber — caught in the very act of abducting one of the ladies of the house. « A robber !— look at me again, sir ; but go ahead, play out the play. This is my first Irish lesson, 1 presume." " And you'll find it a sharp one, 1 sus- pect, before it's over." '* Humph ! you're an Irishman; 1 take it." « I am— what of that V L \.k- 88 THE LADY^ OF THE UEACON OF ARAfi£;j:,UA. it Why I guesscJ as much by your in- sufferable insolence." ** See bere, my good man, that's a re- flection on my country," said the officer, " and I don't like it. Say what you please of myself, as you're in my custody — but if you value your health and ease let my country alone ; for my knuckles itch when I bear it lightly spoken of, especially by a stranger." At this moment a knock came to the door, and presently Captain Petersham en- tered. " Don't you remember Eolus," ti&id Un- cle Jerry, whispering in the priest's ear " Vadit j)cr claustrum magna cum mut' viinc rarico. He, he ! he's the very man." "Is there no way to conciliate biml" enquired tlxc Captain, turning to the priest. "None thatl know of." " And what the blaz — excuse me.-^ What is he, an American, eh?" " Yes, he is an American, but a bad sample of his countrymen. The American of the true stamp is a fine, generous, noble- hearted fellow ; but I don't kuow how it « I hasten," said the portly Captain, with^ happens, the Doctor, with all his great men a smile on his honest, jolly face — ^" I hasten. Dr. Hor»eman, to otfer you an apology for this ." / i S/ " Sir, I ,«*hal! accept no apology," growl- ed the Doctor. " All 1 require is per- mission to quit this house —and that instant- ly." " But, my dear sir, will you ?" *' No, sir J you've offered me an unpar- ^donable insult." " Will you not listen to tion?" an expiana- " No, sir J no — I'll listen to no explana- tion." "Psaugh, nonsense, my dear friend, — don't take it so ill. Why, I've been mak- ing and apologising for blunders all my life- time. Father John here will tell you the little boys on the streets call me nothing ihwi blundering Tom Petersham." "That's a positive fact, and good reason for it, too," muttered Uncle Jerry, am- bling about the room, and bobbing his skirts up and down as usual. " Come, come Doctor," persisted the Captain, again offering his hand, " let us forget this foolish mistake, and drink suc- cess to the stars and stripes over a good stout bottle of old Rhenish — supper awaits us in the next room." ** You must excuse me, sir; I can't par- take of your hospitality," said llie Doctor gruffly, turning away and moving to and fro like a lion. tal abilities, is yet so full of self-conceit, that the least contradiction puts him out of temper, and the least freedom offends his dignity." " Let us start Kate at him," said the Captain ; " if the man has a soft spot in his heart she'll find it." And Kate did beg and intreat of him to stay for the night, and begged and begged again, but all to no purpose — the Doctor was inflexible.. Nay, he went even so far at last as to rebuke her harshly for her fa- miliarity ! and Kate, the poor kind-hearted girl, unaccustomed to such a language, blushed like a child under the reproof, and stole away from the room. "Now, in the name of all the gods in Olym- pus," exclaimed the Captain, who had been watching Kate, and witnessed her repulse, " that makes an end of it : ai apology is as much as one gentleman can require of ano- ther, and I've already satisfied my con- science on that point. Ho, there, who waits — Thomas?" " Here, sir." " Let the coachman drive up instant[y and take this gentleman home. Confound such stubborn — sulky — mawworms," he added, turning again to the priest. " I'm sorry, sir, for this ridiculous blunder oh your account, but hang me ifl can play the supplicant any 'onger." " You're right, Captain —perfectly right — his stubbornness is inexcusable. For myself, 1 exceedingly regret having broii§lu arm. A CUllOiNICLi: OF INMSUOWEN. 89 ilolus," baid Un- the priest's car, agno cum mur- i the very man.*' conciliate bimr ing to the priest. n, who had been iiim witli me to Castle (Ircgory. But there was no help for it. The night was dark, and Mr. Guirkie absolutely refused to part with the negro till he had seen yon, «nd placed him under your special protec- tion. I'm sorry also — I must accompany the Doctor ; for I had promised n^ If a long chat with Kate on a certain u, rest- ing subject which " '< Which is neither more nor less than the comparative merits of the Anglican and Catholic Churches. I suspected all along, m dear fellow, what you and Kate were about; but it's no concern of mine — let her please herself. If she wishes to adopt a new form of religion, I'm satisfmd — only let it be a decent one ; for by all the saints in the calendar, if she dared look even side- ways at any of those tinkering religions they manufacture now-a-days, I'd hang her up for the crows to pick." *f Ha ! ha ! you don't like these new fangled systems, I perceive 1" ♦fLike them, why they're the most damn- able nuisances in the country. One of thqse canting fellows who peddle them round here, called on me last week, and after disgusting me with his hypocritical twaddle, had the impudence to invite me to what he called a prayer-meeting. Ha ! ha ! By George, 1 had a good mind to fling the fellow, neck and heels, out of the window. No, sir ; I was bred a Protestant myself, and intend to live and die one ; but Kate is old enough to judge for herself, and she may, for aught it concerns me, turn Ma- hommedan or Catholic, if her taste lies that way — but let her keep clear of these petti- foggers , that's all the stipulation I make — let her keep clear of them." "Well, but suppose," observed tlie priest smiling-—" srtippose her taste led her to adopt the Methodist ?" « Oh ! blame the Methodist. I'd rather see her peddle eggs with a basket on her aim." " You don't apprehend much danger of that, I suppose ? Kate's not exactly of that turn of mind." " No ; but you can't tell, sir, what naj happen. These Hardwrinkles are here night and day since she stopped going to church on Sundays." "Humph, these visits are intended to counteract the influence of Mary Lee, T suspect." " Poor Mary, Is she not a most fasci- nating creature t" said the Captain, earn- estly. " I tell you what, sir, I believe in my soul I'm in love with that girl." The priest looked at the burly Captain and smiled. " Well hang me if I know what to make of it, but I feel sometimes as if I could pro- pose for her myself. Ha, ha, what think you of that, sir, from a bjchelor of forty- five ?" and the Captain laughed till his wt sides shook again at the idea of suqh k match. "You would have but little chance against Randall Barry, I fear," replied the priest. " The young outlaw?" " Yes, and the foolish boy is now some- where in the neighborhood, I understand.'* " Saw hiffi myself," replied the Captain, " and a devilish fine looking fellow he is — saw him at the light house yesterday." " Is it possible ! and you did'nt arrest him, as in duty bound. You're a very pretty magistrate, indeed. Why, CaptaiOi I must report you to the government as an abetter of treason." " Nonsense — I'm not a policeman to carry hand-cuffs in my pocket." " But you might have ordered his ar- rest." '^ Humph ! when 1 order the arrest of a fine young fellow like that," said the Cap- tain, laying bis hand on the priest's shoul- der, " whose only crime is to love his eoun- try, I shall be no longer Tom Peter- sham. Still, if he happen to be brought before me, you know, as a justice of the peace, and fully identifiedi I must commit him." •nS» 'vv> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^/ 4 ^^-^ 1.0 I.I M 12.5 2.2 ui lii L25 i 1.4 1.6 6" 7 /^ Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WIST MAIN STRUT WiBSTIR.N.Y. 14S80 (716)872-4503 \ m •ss <> 4^ i/.. i I ^ 90 THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. . ** Of course you must. The boy is act- ing very rashly in coining here at all, after all the warninss he has had.'* ** He must be a bold fellow, knowing there^s a reward of two hundred pounds of- fered for his capture." " I wish to mercy he could be induced to quit the country for a time, for if he happens to be taken, Mary will break her heart," " Well, be will be arrested, you may de- pend ion it, sooner or later. Two hundred pounds these hard times, is a strong tempta- tion. Why, this very officer in the house now, chased him two days ago from Bun- era nna to Lambert's Point." , < Carriage at the door," cried a ser- vant. ** And what of supper 1" « On the table, sir." "Copie then, my dear friend," said the Caption, taking the priest familiarly by the arm, " let us pick a bone together before you leave. Kate, go ask Dr. Horseman to join us. Where's Mr. Guirkie 1 come forth — iconpie forth thou man of indescrib- able sensibilities." But Mr. Guirkie had left the parlor a few minutes before, and was now making arrangements with the steward for the safe conveyance of the Africap to Greenmount next morning. He soon made his appear- akce, however, and joined the Captain and the priest in a glass of wine, it was all the refreshment they ventured to accept, as Horseman still doggedly rejected ever| attempt at conclliati'on. *^ Well, good bye, Doctor," said the good natured Captain, accompanying the party to the steps of the hall door, " I'm sorry you leave us in anger — but T know ydii'll think better of it to-morrow. Good bye, sir." TJbe distinguished reviewer growled sorjuetbing in rf fly. *' Kate," said the prief?t, giving her his hancl to sliakr, and whispering f Ijp words in her ear, " don't neglect to cultivate the ac- quaintance of Mary Lee, not forget to read that work I lent you on the beauties of the Catholic religion." ** Never fear," replied Kate, and then having promised Uncle Jerry to ste parti- cular care taken of his poor African, she waved her hand in adieu, and the carriage drove off at a gallop down the Lvenue. CHAPTER XIV. A severe attack of fever, resulting from the hardships he endured in the life-boat, had now confined the little cabin-boy to his room at the light-house for several days, during which Mary Lee was his constaot attendant hardly ever leaving him day or night. Doctor Camberwell had called to see the patient several times, and as often found Mary patiently watching by his bed side with the fidelity and affection of a sister. Strongly did he remonstrate with her (as 'did tier Uncle also) on the imprudence of shutting herself up so constantly in the sick room, especially when Else Curley and Roger O'Shaughnessy were there to attend him. But all in vain. Nothing could pre- vail on her to quit her post. She only smiled and assured them she apprehended no danger whatever. The room in which the boy lay was a small apartment on the north side of the lodge, directly over the Devil's Gulch, and looking out on the far-famed Swilly Rock, which layjin the very mouth of the lough about half a mile distant, showing its long black back now and then, as the swells of the sea broke over and seethed down it- sides. Beyond it, in the distance, {appear- ed the rugged oulline of Malin Head, cast- ing its deep shadow into the sea, and frown- ing a sulky defiance at each passing ship as she rounded the dangerous bluff. It was to avoid that headland the ill-fated " Salda- na" ran for a harbor, and struck on Swilly Rock. On thfit rock she lost her helm aud mjstS; and then broken up by the fury A CHRONICLG OF INNISHOWEN. 91 of the ocean, drifted in fragments to the shore. Every soul on board perished that night, but one little infant, and that infant, now a lovelj girl of eighteen, her head turned to the &tal spot, was praying for the little wreck- ed cabin-boy, lying] beside her. She was kneeling before a crucifix, with a rosary in ber hand, and old Drake, resting his nose on his shaggy paws, was peering up in her free. Suddenly she turned, and looked towards the bed. " 6ambo— Sambo," muttered the boy — (< where are you Sambo 1" Mary rose, and advancing to the bed- side, laid her hand gently on the forehead of the little sufferer — it was burning hot. « Sambo, dear . Sambo," he again re- peated, ** let us return home. Motlier calls me » ** It's the crisis," murmured Mary, « six hours more will terminate the contest be- tween life and death. Oh, Mother of God, Mother of our Redeemer," she added, " save this wandering boy." And slowly linking on her kness again, she prayed and wept over him, until the tears rolled down her cheeks, and dropped unheeded on the bed. " What's that you're doing. Sambo ?" muttered the boy — ** you scald me with drops of lead." "Hush, hush," whispered Mary in4iis ear. " Keep quiet, I'm with you." " Take me home, Sambo, take me home." "Where?" said Mary. « Where ! to Old Virginny. There it is, right before you, don't you see the old Potomac / Massa shan't blame you a mite — it was all my fault, and I'll tell him so. Wont you take rae back, Sambo ?" " Yes, to-morrow — to-morrow," said Mary, " but keep still now, or I must leave you." The threat of desertion seemed to si- lence the little fellow completely. Mary then ap||)lied a napkin steeped in vinegar and water to his burning temples, and after smoothing his pillow was returning to her seat near the window, when all of a sudden she found herself clasped in the arms of Kate Petersham. " Miss Petersham," she exclaimed — ^ is it possible 1" ** No, no, — ril not have it so, call me Kate — ^your own Kate — and I love you now a thousand times better than ever." ** You won't scold me then, will you f "Scold you t for what f "Not going to see you, according to pro- mise." " And abandon your little charge there. No, no Mary, I know your heart too well for that. But I must scold you for some- thing else, Mary, I must scold you for staying here so constantly hi the sick room." " There's no danger in the world, Kate." " Danger 1 Why, Dr. Camberweil says its typhus fever, and of the most malignant kind, too." " Well, but dear Kate, you need not feel the least concern about that, for Pm Bot afraid of it at all, and you know where there's no fear there's no danger." " I don't know any such thing," replied Kate. " On the contrary, Pm sure you're running a great risk." " Not the slightest Kate. The Mother of God will protect me." '^^^ " Ah, you can't be certain of that." " Quite certain. She never forsook me yet." , " But if you've acted imprudently and rashly, why should she protect youl" " Listen to me Kate, and PU tell you how it all happened. It was just eighteen years to the hour, since the wreck of the Saldana, the night this poor boy was cast ashore on Ballyhernan Strand. The cir- cumstance struck me as something strange when I heard it mentioned by the Warren- keeper in the cabin, and pondering over it as 1 wet the lips of the little marmer |?itU 92 THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. a sp«ooful of wine and water, the idea oe- Gurj«d to me that the Blessed Virgin had CQiRmitted him to my special care. You may smile, Kate, but the providence of God has its own ways and means of accom>- j^lishing its ends. How Ter^ like my own fate is this little wanderer's, said I, perhaps he too I^as neither father and mother left to w^tch over (lim. Just as I thought this ]^e raised his eyes to mine, and seemed to niaj^e such ap appeal to my heart that I could'nt /pr the life of me say a word in reply. So I only nodded a promise. He understood it though perfectly, for he smil- ed hiii! thanks as I gave it." ^y And yaa bound feel by that promise,'' 3l4d Kate, f' tibougb not a word was ex- ct^pged between you ?" ;»i»''.!i'w;''tf ■ A CHRONICLE OF IMMISHOWEM. d3 tbe first of next month." ** And what's to be done 1 Can my bro- ther do anything to avert the blow ? Shall I^eak to him on the subject?" « Not for the world, Kate." " And why so ? you know he lo?es your Uncle." « Yes, but for that very reason he would be the last man he should ask a fa- vor of." « To whom then will you apply for help/" ** I have applied already, Kate, to a dear friend." f* You haver " Yes, to one who never refused me in my need — to the Blessed Virgin." Ah, indeed ! so you expect succor from ber. But why not apply to the Redeemer himself —the fountain of all goodness 1" << Because, dear Kate, I fear I'm not worthy to approach him j and I know, be- sides, he will hear the prayer of the Mother who bore him sooner than mine." << Ah ! then you apply to her merely as an intercessor 1 Why I always thought you expected aid directly from herself." •* Kate, Kate, how often have I told you tjie contrary I" "Yes, but I have heard it preached about so often in our pulpits." ** Hush ! some one knocks — come in." The door opened, and Else Curley, wrapped in ber old grey cloak, entered the room. Without uttering a word of recognition or apology, she advanced to the bed and laid her withered hand on the temples of the patient. Then having satisfied herself as to the progress of the disease, she turn- ed slowly round, and throwing back her hood, addressed Miss Petersham in hoarse, hollow toies — " Young woman, why are you here t" she demanded. " That's my own aCFair," replied Kate. " By what right do you ai^k ?" >♦ The right which the age and experi- ence of eighty years give me. I seen many a faver, girl, in my time, but niver yet so dangerous a faver as this. Awty then from the room— it^s no place for idle visitors.'* "And pray, old woman," said Kate^ " what reason have you to feel so mucli concern for my safety ?" " The raison's top ould," replied Else, " to spake iv now. Yer ^and father, if he lived, cud hardly remimber it. But here," she continued, drawing a piece of folded paper from her bosom, " read this and judge for yourself ; if it's at Araheera Head ye ought to be." Kate took the paper from her hand,-aiid accompanied Mary Lee to the parlor. " Humph !" muttered Else, now that she found herself alone with the sick boy, " if he lias'nt lost his senses, I'll' try !^wh^t cao be done to clear up this mvstery. If ii» nigger started back frightened that way, as Lanty says, when he first seen Weeks a( Mr. Guirkie's, he, must know something about him, and accordin to all accounts, the nigger and the boy here come from th^ same plantation. Ay, ay, there's a hole in that wall somewhere worth the ferretin. Humph ! look," she continued, touching the lad on the arm with her fore-finger— "looJf up and spake to me.'- " Who's that ?" muttered the boy, tunj^t ing on his side and gazing at the olti W9;* man, " are you Sambo]" -ii " Ay, I'm Sambo, — what d'ye want^** said Else, seeing in a moment the state <^ his mind. ^« .» « You're not 3ambo — nigger SambOr'' " Don't you know meV^ , ,; " Yes, but sure you're Sambo — very sure you're Sambo Nelson 1" ,h " Quite sure — and what's your namef' " Ny name — my name's Natty." "Natty, what]" " Natty Nelson." " And Where's your father V* '* My father— my father — well let oie tec, my father— Where's my father." 94 THE LADT OF THE DEACON OF ABAHEERA. "Where does he live t" ^"«Whor> « Your father. Sambo, Sambo, whis- per ; don't be afraid, he shan't flog you." « Wiio shan't flog me ? Father — old Danger you know. So take me back to old virginny — take me back, mother calls me. Lbten, ai'nt that the wash of old Po- tomac asainst the ship's side 1" " Hush I don't speak so much, Natty — tell me. Natty." « Ay, ay sir, by the mark — ^seven — send all hands aloft, take in sail." Else finding it now impossible to draw any further information from the boy, took a small vial from her pocket, and pouring a few' drops of the contents into a spoon, gave it too her patient. « There," she muttered, « that'll make you sleep for the nixt hour, and when ye waken, if yer senses hav'nt come back, I'll try some other manes to rache the sacret." Then drawing out her stocking, she sat down on a low stool by the bedside and commenced her knitting. ** This is a very pretty piece of paper in- deed," said Kate, looking at the address as she entered the parlor. "To her ladyship, Miss Petersham." . ' ** Good, so far } now for the inside. Eh ! li^hat in the name of all the fairies is this. ** Lanty Hanlon is my name, and Ireland is my nashin, Donegal is my dwillin plas, an heven is my xpectashin.' His expectation, the villian," exclaimed Kate, " ha, ha ! if heavien were full of angels like Lanty Han- Ion, I'd ratheir be excused from joining the company. It must be the tly leaf of the fellow's prayer book — but hold, here's some- thing on the other side." ** This is to let you no, that"— here Kate dropped her voice and read over the re- mainder in silence, "Randall Barry lies woondid and a prisner in Taumy Barries, i'll meet your ladyship this evenin at the castil about dusk, behint the ould boat- house, no more at presint but remanes your abaident to comma nd • ' • Lanty Hanson I " Any thin^ amiss ?" enquired Mary, as Kate finished the reading of the precious document — ^'^Vou look alarmed." " Alarmed f do It Oh no, it's nothing particular." « Lanty's full of mischief," said Mary, " been playing you some trick, perhaps." " Lanty ! no, no — it's a mere trifle," re* plied Kate ; " I must get home 'however as soon as possible. Please ring for Rodger — I want him to call the coxwain." As Mary turned to ring the bell,Rbd^ made his appearance at the door, carrying the old silver salver, and awaiting tin command of his young mistress to enter. " Come in Rodger ; what have you got there 1" enquired Kate. " A little refreshment, please madam.-» Mr. Lee sends his compliments to Miss Petersham." "Isheathomfe?" " No, madam ; he went out in the dir- ection of Araheera a few minits ago, and gave orders to have cake and wine sent ia afore he left." *' What kind of wine is it, Rodger T en- quired Kate, smiling over at Mary, as she put the question. '< Ahem ! what kind, madam ; why, it's a — it's a very deliceous currant wine — very pure and delikit it is," replied Rodger. « Indeed !" " And just tWenty-five years next Christ- mas. No, I make a mistake there — he — twenty-four years next Christmas — ahem! just twenty-four years exactly." "Oh, it don't matter," said Kate, "a year you know is nothing." " It's the wine Lady Templeton used to like so much when she visited the Castle, if you remember," added Rodger, looking at his mistress. Mary smiled at her com- panion, but made no reply. " Currant wine's but a sorry beverage at best, Rodger," said Kate mischievously. " Well, perhaps, ladies, you would prefer champagne or sherry ?" "Oh, noj no, Rodger, don't trouble yourself." •iipi.; ?'«i-W~T- »»<■ A CHRONICLE OF IMNlSUOWEN. don't trouble « No trouble in life, mam, only just say so, and I'll be happy to serve them. But if you try this here, you'll find it delaceous, I assure you." ** Very well, we must taste it on your recommendation: and now, Rodger, send my men aboard, we must leave instantly." When the old servant left the room, Mary laid her hand on Kate's shoulder, and looking at her affectionately, again ex- pressed her fea/s that something was wrong at Castle Gregory. « Nothing, Mary, — nothing, whatever" replied Kate. << And yet you look deeply concerned. Has Captain Petersham or Mr. Willough- by been sick ?" " No, no, dear child, they're both quite well. It's somethng I must attend to be- fore to-morrow, ha^mg no immediate re- lation to any of the family." As Mary stood there, leaning her arm on her companion's shoulder, and looking wistfully in her face, she exhibited a form and features of exquisite beauty, The rays of the declining sun had just then entered the window, and for a second or two bath- ed her whole person in golden light, illu- mining her countenance with that celestial glow, which holy men say overspreads the features of the seraphim. Never breathed a fairer form than hers — never shone a fair- er face, and yet the beauty of her soul transcended far the loveliness of her person. Oh, when loveliness of body and soul unite in woman, how truly does she then reflect the image of her Creator — the great source of purity, beauty and love. "Kate, dear Kate," murmured Mary, « when shall we both kneel together before the same altar. When shall we become sisters in faith, as we are now in affection." " Sooner, perhaps, than you anticipate," replied Kate, kissing the forehead of the lovely girl. «You'v« read the little books I gave yott" M ^ Yes, and liked them too ; but I've been reading another book which speaks more eloquently of your faith, and drawi me nearer to the threshold of your Charcb, than all the controversial works ever writ- ten." " Oh, I'm so delighted ! dear Kate. — • What is it 1" enquired Mary, innocently « I can't tell you that." "Why so, Kate 1" " You would blush all over, and nm away if I did." "Did I ever read it r " Never, I believe, though it belongs to you, and to you alone ; for there's not an- other like it in the whole world." " Belongs to me 1" " Yes, to your very self, and yet you're quite unconscious of its possession; but come with me to the steps — ^I must not de- lay another minute ." The two young friends now walked hand in hand across the green lawn, and stood at the head of the long flight of steps, looking down at the boatmen preparing to leave. " Randall's coming here to-night," said Mary, " if he has not escaped to Arrau* more." " Poor fellow," observed Kate, ** I wish he were safe off to the South ; for, indeed, he must soon be caught if he stay here much longer. Do you remember him in your prayers, Mary 1" " Sometimes," murmured the blushing girl, looking down on the grass at her ieet. " Then pray for him earnestly Uhnighly whispered Kate, and tenderly embracing' her dear young friend, she ran down the steps before Mary had time to ask a single word of explanation. " Now, my lads," she cried, juropinp; into the stern sheets and taking the tiller in her own hands, "now for it— out with every oar in the boat and stretch to them with a will ; we must make Castle Gregorf in an hour and twenty minutes^ if it can bt done 96 THE LADY OF THK BEACON OF ARAHEERA. If itfa OAT bad «ail." « Can't, Miss Kate, impossible," said the eoxwaini tatighteiiing the foiresheet,<< the ebb tide will meet ua at Dunree." ^^< Not if this breeze freshens a little," responded Kate, looking over her shoulder, << and it will — for there it comes dancing in to OS from the mouth of the lough." As she spoke, the little boat, impelled by four stout oarsmen, shot out from under the sha- dknr off the rocks, and began to cleave her way through the waters. Mary stood for a moment looking down at the receding fdhB of her reckless light-hearted compan- ion j 88 she sat in the stern with her hand on the rudder j^and then waving a last adieu, returned to resume her charge of the cabin b«^/ i-- sm ' ' ■ .1 - 6 ■ . r CHAPTER XV. " Come in," said Weeks, glancing over hiM 'bhbulder at the tall, dark form of his cotiiifn, Eobert Hard wrinkle, standing in thcr'dpoir Way. "Come in ; I'm not en- gaged;" "Thank you," said Hardwrinkle, creep- ihg soray in, and closing the door noise- lessly behind inrr«. " I thank you ; I mere- ly ci^Iled, at my good mother's request to ^hli]i|it*e for your health. She always fears, pdbt fereiture, you don't come to join us in btfitlriii^yer." iii <* Well, can't say I'm sick, exactly," re- spopded Wee|is, throwing up his feet on raebdlbk O^ a chair, and offering his com- 'jlninibii a cigar, which the latter modestly declined. " Can't say I'm sick, though I OTi*At ; got ' iquite clear of that wedding wjriajpe yet. But the fact is, ray dear fel- i^Wi. I dtead these almighty long prayers of yw!^---! do reaHy." "Is.it possible r' • '■^'1" W^j yes;I feel a sorter out of place !?ke, sStiii^'dowh te6,in the family circle '^kiha^F^re^tt, ybu tnd#. Why, it's just 1ilfelffii#*^r ai'jrt Accustomed to it exactly j tett^eiifi^ii in'ihb l^tatw hdi'nt got time Wpray a^ you do here in this f ountry." « Ah 1 but my dear Ephraira, you shonld make tim^, for prayer is indispeiisable for salvation. You cannot please God withoit it." " Oh, prayer is a very good thing, I al* low," said Weeks, slowly puflSng his cigar, and beating off the smoke with his hand. " It's an excellent thing for those who can attend to it, but it don t suit men in trad^ to spend whole hours at it, and negleet their business." ■'■>>:. "Ah, but you can attend to both, ifycdl only try," observed Hardwrinkle. ** Why, we do try, we read the biblie oc- casionally, and go to meeting three timeb on the Sabbath ; that's about as much, I reckon, as could reasonably be ei^pected of us." " Perhaps so. But how comes it that the people of New England have acquired so great a reputation for sanctity? They're reputed to be a very religious people." • " Certain, and deserve it too, take the hull of them on an average. There's the women, for instance, and the farmers and the country folks all round—they're all church going people, and do most of the praying, while the merchants and traders are busy in their own department. Well, it's just like this : ond class of our peopU does the praying and the other does the trading-"— kind of makes it eaisy yoti know, on both ; so that take them on th6 hull they're a very religious peopIe."_, " Ah, but my dear Ephraim, that thing of halving the worship of God is not con- formable to the rules of the holy gospel. Every creature is bound to Worship God, and to pray to him always — in season and out of season." " What ! and' have their notes protested at the bank, or lose country customers who can't wait their convenience? My deto fellow, business is a sacred thing, and must be attended to." " Ah ! but you forget, ray good cousin that the gi< at, and, indeed, the only busi- ness of life is salvation." A CHROKICLE OF INNlSUOWEN. aim, yon should idispeiisable for ase God without ood thing, I a|. luffing bis cigar, with >jis hand. J those who can it inen in trad^ Ht and negleet ■ ' ''Hi. 1 to both, if yo^ pinkie. '^ ad the bibid oc- ting three tiiWk out as much, I ly be eipectetf comes it that ! have acquired ctity? Thefre us people." . t too, take the . There's the the farmers abd nd^ — they're till lo most of the 1^ and traders ment. Welt, of odr people other does the sasy yoti know, em on the hull re.»_, )im, that thing od is not con- • J holy gospor. worship God, ■in season and >tes protested sustomers who J? My dear ing, and must >f-'i». rgoofd cousin :he only busi- <* Well, supposing it is (and in fact I al- ways thought myself that salvation waa a pretty good kinder doctrine in a general way, and I rather guess too the world should hardly get along so well without it,) still you know it won't cancel a note, or be taken in trade, eousm Robert." <i«;ntha of the religions going, I bclieye tbem^to be danged humbugs." :*. " Which of the different denomni|itions do you belong to, may I ask V\ enquired Hardwrinkle. " Well, can't say I belong to any in par- ticular. I ratiier think though X like the Unitarians better than most of then;. Th^ ministers are pretty smart men as a gene- ral thing, and preach first rate sermons onci^ in a while. No, I never seemed to. jbii^ife any choice in that way. The fact js,.!. ways calculated to do about right Hfi every man, and I kinder thought that wa^ religion enough for me." • ,,,,51, ^1, <* Cousin " said HardwrinfLie, alter a litr tie reflection, " will you permit me to oak you one question?" " Certainly, my dear fellow, why not f ask as many as you please." " I hope you will not be offended, or think me impertinent, Ephraim. You'i^' my aunt's child, you know, an4 it's Jinut natural I should fell a lively interesi in your welfare, spiritual and temporal." ^ "Of course." , , , " Well, it's merely tnis. Do you realty believe in the existence of God 1 Now answer me candidly. It's rather a strange question, but no matter. Do you believ^ that dogma?" " Yes, sir," replied Weeks, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and shaking 1^ the silver. "Yes, S2>, I believe that^-^no mistake about." " The Lord be praised," exclaimed Hardwrinkle, turning up his ey^s. *f XV thankful you have not fallen y^t into the lowest depth of the abyss. I really f(^ai)ed, from your manner of speaking, you were an atheist." " No, sir ; I believe in two things firmly^ and no living man can make me chaiQffe that belief. I believe in the existence ot a first cause, and the perfectibility of iQan." "And is that all?" 98 THE LADT OF THE BEACON OV ARAHEERA. "i,«< Tbat*8 iJIy sir,— that's the length and breadth of my creed." ** And how, think you, is man to be per- fected r <* Why, by reason, science, and experi- ence. That's about all he need, ai'nt it V* ,<' And what of religion — shall it take no part in his perfection ?" ** Well — ^yes, guess it might help some, that is if he'd only keep clear of these darn- ed isms, and aaopt some sensible kind of religion for himself. The worst thing in the world, cousin, for a business man, is to bare any thing to do with the details of rer ligion. They sorter cramp him, you know. llet him lay down a broad platform like minC) and stand upon it flatfooted — that's the way to get along." ** And you're quite serious, Ephraim, in avowing these shocking sentiments, ^s it really sol" << Shocking or not, they're mine, that's a fact. Why, look here, my good friend, I have iieen too much of your hair splitting reIi|;ions in New England, not to know what they are by this time. Those dea- cons and class leaders, and old maids, and methodistical. looking crowds we see going to c]iurch eyery Sabbath with their bibles under their arins, are, in my humble opin- ion, a darn'd set of dupes and impostors, the whole concern of thefn. There's neither hojior nor honesty amongst them. By crackle, they'd cut your throat with one hand and carry the bible in the other. No, sir, a first cause and the perfectibility of man, or in other words, the irresistibility of human progress, is about as much as any business man can profess to believe with safeWto himself or the interests of trade." ** J3ut will that belief be sufficient to save your, soul P* ♦* Save my soul ? Oh that's quite ano- ther afiair. If there be such things as souls (which is now rather a disputed point,) why, the Creator who made thefn knows best how to take care of them, I presume."- Hardwrinkle had never heard such lan- guage before on the subject of religion.-^ Bred in the country, and little acquainted with the world, he supposed that hpweyer abandoned men might be, or whatever io- fidel setiments thev might really entertain, the respect in which religion was held bjr the great majority of mankind, would natu- rally repress their inclination to avow them. Brought up as he was, a strict Presbyteriai^, and accustomed fro^^ his childhood to hear religion spoken ot with the utmost reverence) he was now both as- tonished and hurt to hear his cousin talk of it with such cold, reckless contempt. For himself, he was the very impersonation of a hypocrite. Mean, sordid, and cunning as a Jew, he had the bland smile and the saintly look forever at his command, and could' play the Christian or the demon, as it suited his purpose, with equal adroitness. All his religion ^as external. It consisted of long prayers, demure looks, pious com versation, black garments, and an ascetic aspect. At churc^i he was never missed on the sabbath; hail, rain or snow, he was there sittin^: upright in bis pew, motionless and impassible as a statute. And there too sat his seven black sisters beside him, tall, thin and lank, like himself ; not a white spot was to be seen about them but their pocket handkerchiefs ; eyen their very fans were as black as ebony. In the whole world round never , was seen so solemn, staid and church-loving a family, from Robert, lileir and master, down to l)eborah — or as she was commonly called by her elder sisters. Baby Deb — though now a young lady of seven and twenty. It hap- pened, however, that religion, by some misr fortune or other, instead of softening and expanding their hearts by its divine in0uence had withered them up. Its gladdening and exhilarating touch seemed only to have chilled them like an icicle." The bright look and pleasant smile which denote the presence of religion in the soul, were never once seen to light up their features. Like leard luek Un- it of religion.-^ ittle acquainttd (d that (pwe^er ir whatever in- really entertain, (ion was held bj nd, would natu- lation to avow was, a strict omed fro^ h» spoken oi witli as now both as- is cousin talk of contempt. For personation of a Eind cunning as ] smile and the command, and the demon, as qual adroitness. I* It consisted ks, pious coQi and an ascetic never missed on snow, he was ew, motionless And there too eside him, tall, f ; not a white hem but their their very fans In the. whole ien so solemn, family, from m to Deborah called by her though now a nty. It J|iapr , by some misr softening and livine influence gladdening and only to have " The bright ich denote the III, were never itures. Like A CHROMICI^V OF 1NJ9I8H0WEIC, 09 iBelaoclioly spectres dark and stern, they passed through the busy streets ; and stole silently away in .the shadows of the bouses, 10 one caring to look after theip, or bid (}od bless them for their charity. Qh thou cold, stern monk of Geneva, thou whose beart never thrilled with a generous emo> tion, whose pulse never throbbed with sym- pathy for thy kind, this death-like picture of reiigioi is thy handiwork. Thou subtle betrayer of the human conscience, thou dark plotjter of treason against the sover- eignty of the human soul, how could you look up at the bright heavens above, and see the blessed sun gladdening the earth irith his beams, or behold the stars dancing in their orbits to the music of the spheres, and yet be demon enough to curse humani- jtjr with such a lifeless religion as this. But of all the members of the Htirdwrin- kle family, Robert was the most heartless, or if indeed he had a heart at all, it was as callous as a stone. When the stranger beggar caD)e to his. door (for those of the parish knew him too well to enter his gates,) lie neither ordered him from his presence nor hunted his dogs on him. No^ he kind- ly admonished the sufferer to guard against the many dangers and temptations that her set him in his mode of life, counselled him gently to beware of evil company, and then gave the shivering supplicant a religious tract to teach him resignation to the vi ill of heaven, or a dispensary ticket to procure ointment for his sores. Money was his god, and he adored it. To part with a shilling, save his usury, was like rending his heart strings. He loved it not fpr the use he could make of it, in giving employment to others, or in serving the interests of the parish, without loss to himself, b>it for the mere pleasure of seeing and feeling it with his hands, In this respect h»s cousjn Eph- raim was an entirely different man. He, like a true Yankee was fond of iponey too, nay, was ready to go through fire and water to obtain it, but yet he was just as ready a hand to spend it, or lend it to a neighbor in a pinch, and thought it no' great obligation either. He valued money only as a ctrcur lating medium) as an a^ent to carry oq trade, or acquire a position for himself in society. He was forever talking, to be sure, of dollars and cents> but still it was evident to those who happened to be at all acquainted with his disposition and habits of life, that he was by no means a mere ear ary man. Nor was he, like most lovera of money, envious of his neighbor's prosperity — not he ; on the contrary he was pleased to see every one thrive and do well, and ready to bid them God speed into the bafr gain. There was one peculiarity in him however, which at first sight looked rather damaging to the character of an honorable man. He never scrupled taking advantage of his neighbor in bis speculations. Ber cause every man, he contended, should have his *' eye peeled," and deserved to suffer if he had'nt. It was by sharp bargains men were made smart, and by smart men trade wa^ made to flourish, and if it happened now and then that a few fell short of their expectations, why, the country at large eventually beeam6 the gainer. On the other hand, if his neighbor happened to come the Yankee over himj to use a favor- ite expression, why, it was all fair in war, he neither grudged nor grumbled, but M peeled his eye" a little closer^ and went off to speculate on something else. Such were the two cousins. Both were fond of money — the one to gloat over and adore it, the other to use it as an agent to attain the objects of his pride or his amdition* And now to proceed with our story ' « Merciful heavens," exclaimed Hard-: wrinkle, after a long pause, during which he seemed to have lost either his breath op his speech, for he uttered not a syllable, but kept looking intently at his cousin ; " mer-i ciful heavens ; suph an expression from the mouth of a Christian man, Hj there be such things as Sfruls.^ Oh Ephraim ! Ephraim » I fear you're irretrievably lost. Qb, l^t me entre?it yo« to pray for light and grac« 100 THE LADY OP THB BEACON OF ARAHEERA. o diipel this darkness of unbelief. Oh, if you onir read the word of God, join the fiimily in prayer everjr night and morning, and come vrith m^ thrice on the Sabbath to hear the outpourings of tnat faithful servant of the Lord, our dear and reverend brother Mr. Battletext, be assured your eyes would be opened to the light of glory shining through at a distance ^" ^^ « Say," interrupted Weeks. ** The light of glory shining out to ^" ** Say, bold on $ I've heard all that be- fore — could repeat it myself as slick as a deacon. There's no use in thinking to come it over me with that kinder talk. — What I believe, I believe, and I ai'nt a goinff to believe nothing else, nohow you can nx it. A Arst cause, and the perfecti- bility of man, is my platform." „ An I too broad, my dear friend — * nar- row is the way,' you know." ** Broad — that's just precisely what we want. We want a platform broad enough to cover the whole ground. We area young nation, sir, strong, active and ambi- tious, and must have room ro stretch our arms east, west, north and south. Our re- sources are immense, inexhaustible, and we want ft wide field to develop them — and that field, I take it, sir, is the liberty of con- science." ** You mean liberty to cheat and take advantage of your neighbor if you happen to be clever enough to accomplish it with impunity ]" « Why not? that's the life of trade, my dear fellow — that's what makes smart men. And hence it is the Yankees are the smart- est business men in all creation. Your evangelical rules would ruin us in twelve months." "The laws of Grod ruin you? do you really mean what you say ?" " Well, look here, I speak only of our merchant and trading classes ; with respect to farmers, laborers, mechanics, women, and all that kinder folks, they can adopt as many rules and regulations as they please, ' I in the religious line. It don't make aay material difference I presume one way or other, since they hai'nt got no busineit ti transact ; but you might as well think sf corking up the Atlantic in a champagne, het^ tie as expect the commerce of the States ti thrive under the old stiff evangelical rules «f our grand-fathers." ** Ah, Ephraim, Epbraim, speak witliii^ speet of those holy men," said Hardwria* kle. ** Oh, I hope and pray," he continoed, raising up his hands and eyes in pious si^ plication, ** I hope and pray we may stiwl as well before the judgment seat as thinr did." ** Cousin Robert," said Weeks, looUw sideways for a moment at the ulptiuit] face of his companion, and twirling hk watch key as he spoke ; ** Cousin Robei^ you're a very godly, pious man, I reckiw, and an honest man too, no mistake aboiit that. But pious people, let me tell yon, ai'nt always to be trusted ; hold on nioir for a minute, hold on, I'll just give you ai instance in point. I knew a man once iq our section of the country, named Pratt-* Zeb Pratt, they called him. Zeb was det-* con of the Methodist Church in Duok|t viile, for nearly ten years in ray own time, and a real out and out Christian of the first brand. Well, the fact is, he wii cracked up so for his sanctity, Aat he went by the name of Pious Zeb, of Scrabbis Hollow — that was the nan](e of his farm.-^ Now Zeb never was known to be absent from meetin, morning, noon, or nigbt,-!-h| was punctual as the town clock, fivei^ sabbath morning as the bell rung, there was Zeb crossing the commons, wtthhii old faded crape on his hat, and his bibis under his arm. He was president of all the charitable societies in the district, attended all the prayer meetings, carried his contnt butions of eggs and chickens every year to the minister, distributed religious tracts to the poor ^" '< Oh, what a treasure 1" exclaimed Hard" wrinkle, unconsciously interrupting ^ A CHRONICLE OF IMMISHOWIM. 101 IS man, I reckoi, nitie|nrrie. ** What a treasure !" ^^Treaturel Zeb Pratt t By eracious ^ was the damdest old viilian in all crea- tJDD'^he a treasure — the old cheats he'd girifldle rou out of your eye teeth. Why, tie old hypocrite cleared out one morning fith all the funds of the Christian Bene- Tdeot— -" "Letters for Mr. Weeks/' said a ser- Htkt, knocking on tl^e door. "Hand them here," cried the latter nronptly, throwing the stump of his cigar nl6 the grate, and snatching his feet off the hack of the chair. << Ha, just what pre been expecting this whole week past 44bey're from that lawyer of yours, Eo- bert." « Of miner' ** Why, yes, of your choosing. Eather sloir though for my taste." ** And, please sir. Miss Rebecca wishes to know" continued the servant, " what trsets you wish her to distribute this morn- ing, sir 1" - '♦*0h, well, tell her it don't matter a great (M which, but she might as well perhaps by that last package from the Home Mis- lioiiaiy Society." "Yes, sir." "And William." "Yes, sir." ^ She had better take Rachael and Abi- gail with her, and leave Judith, Miriam aod Deborah to meet Mr. Sweetsoul, the cdporteur, and make arrangements with Uffl about that Sabbath school at Bally- nngahey." "Yes, sir, and please your honor, sir, tiMt woman is here with the three orphans firem Ballymartocker." *« What woman?"' - " McGluichy's wife, sir. Her husband died, if you remember, sir, last winter, of the black fever;" '^ " And what does she want with me V " Why, sir, she can't pay the rent, she till the new crop comes, and she wants your honor to graut her spareance. The bailiff give her notice to quit, yister' day." « Well, you must tell her, William, I pity her very much. But I have always made it a rule never to interfere with th« law ; it must take its course." " Yes, sir, very well sir,"--and the ser- vant bowed and quitted the room. " So you've heard ft om your lawyer tt last, Epuraim," said Hardwrinkle, turning' to his cousin, who had just finished reading his letter. « Y-e-e-s," replied Weeks, "after wait- ing 'a whole week for it. These Irish lawyers of yours are rather slow coaches,! expect." «'Fast enough, Ephraim, fast enOugb for the poor man, when he has their claims to satisfy — ay, ay, heaven look to the poor when they happen to fall into their J nds." << Shall I read his letter?" said Weeks; and Hardwrinkle having bowed assent, he proceeded as follows : " Dear Sir. — ^Agreeably to your instnic- tions of June , 1 wrote yesterday to Mr. Edward Lee, notifying him of the purchase of his liabilities to the amount of five hundred pounds, by Ephraim C. B* Weeks, Ducksville, Connecticut, United States, now staying at Crohan housOf county Donegal, and of his (Mr. Weeks') anxiety to have the debt concelled by the first of next month, or secured by responsi- ble endorsers, as it is his (Mr. Weeks') intention to return home as soon as possi- ble. I herewith enclose a receipt for JS200 sterling, the amount paid by you for ^aid notes to the late holder of same. Shall be happy to receive further commands, and have the honor to be Your very obedient servant, Jeremiah Diddlwell." ,' Dublin, 26 Great James St., June^ — . "Humph!" said Hardwrinkle, after Weeks had read the letter over, "so you've made a beginning." " Certainly. I've got to, the girl wou't 102 THE LADT OF THE BEACON Ot ARAHEERA. a ml look at meotheHwiae^ I bare now called on her a dozen times, an(l wrote ber as many letters, and yet sbe treats me as cold- ly as if I'd been an absolute stranser.^ We'll see now what the screws can do. « You say be never gave you any en- couragement himself." ** Why, no, he onljr kinder laughs whml allude to it. By gosh I do'nt know what to make of the man. His conduct's most unaccountable. Why he must either take me for a fool or think I'm jok- ing; all the time." << You are mistaken, £pbraim,he neither neither takes you for a fool or a joker. He merely laughs at your presumption in aspir- ing to the band, of such a high-blooded girl as Mary {jee." .'!« High-blooded girl," repeated Weeks ** hang your high bloods !" « Don't feel offended, my dear Epbraim -—I had no intention " << No, but teat darned old witch, Else Curley, keeps talking to me so about her humbug aristocracy, that I'm sometimes al- tdost tempted to cowhide her for her im- iradence. When I enquire of her bow she gets along in bringing things around,' why, tbe only answer I can get from the old ras- cal is, 'wait awhile, wait awhile, till her pride comes down another peg or two.' Yes, by crackle," he continued, rising and pacing the room, with his hands stuck down in his pockets jingling the silver; "yes, wait awhile, till her pride comes down, just as if the grandson of an old revolutionist of seventy-six war'nt good enough for the best blood in the land." "My dear Epbraim, you don't under- stand the Irish people, or you would'nt talk so. They're an old people, you must remember, and like all old people, proud of their ancestors. You, on the other hand, being a new people, measure the respect- ability of men and families by the amount ti money or property they're possessed of, simply because ynu have no ancestors your- selves," ' " Well, look here, cousin, oe that as H may, I'm not agoin to stay here mucl) longer, any how. This affair must soon W fixed one way or other. When you wrolf me, to say this girl was likely to turn o«t to be daughter and heir of old Talbot,:); gave up my business and came over hen^( without waitmg even to bid my frieai^/ good bye. Well, after three weeks seareh in Cork and all around, alter the old woman said to have nursed her, and as loiig spent in Dublin hunting up the certifici^i; of the mother's marriage, I came down fiijUb, confident, from your assurances of succc^ that the girl and her uncle were so ^ mighty poor, they'd jutnp at my propoiil right straight off*. Now then, here I m all of nine weeks, sneaking up and down to that confounded Jight-house, through thun- der and lightning half the time, and gropr ing my way through rain and darkness toe other half, and by crackle I ai'nt one mile nearer my object now than when I first came." "I'm sorry, Epbraim, very sorry u^ deed," replied Hardwrinkle, looking ddwft on the floor, and sighing regretfully, " somr you're so much disappointed, but indeed, indeed, it's not my fault, for surely I^e done all that could reasonably be expects, to expedite the affair. As for the two thousand pounds you kindly promised in ae- knowledgment of the little assistance I might be in the matter, you know I should have cheerfully done as much, my dear Epbraim, if you never had promised a fa^ thing. No, no, money has never influenced me,tbank heaven. No, Epbraim, I hope I have a conscience to direct me, and a heart too, to love my relatives well enou|^ to do them a kindness without expecting a recompense." " I know it cousin. I know it. Ym have been exceedingly kind, and I M'at agoin to forget your kindness either, biit just look how the case stands. Here Pve spent already two thousand dollars for tbeip notes, that ai'nt worth a red cent. Of '•■f.ti'mm'iC-mrKVitmt^i-- sin, be that as it, stay here mucl) ifiair must sooa m When you wrQt| likely to turn 0||, IT of old Talbot,! came over heti^, bid my frieailij Lhree weeks searcli ind, atter the oii id her, and as long up the certifici|t; J came down fu% irances of succesi^ uncle were soaiir nn at my propoul w then, here I m ng up and down to use, through than- 3 time, and grop* and darkness tne ie I ai'nt one milei than when I first a, very sorry to* kle, looking dowa regretfully, " sorn }inted, but indera, ult, for purely Py« nably be expected, . As for the two idly promised in ac- little assistance I jrou know I shoiild' s much, my dMur ad promised a fa^ as never influenced Ephraim, I hope I direct me, and a latives well enou|^ ithout expecting a I know it. Yoii kind, and I ai'at [indness either, but itands. Here I've atnd dollars for thef 1 a red cent. Of A CHRONICLf! or IKKlSHOWEM. course when you recommended ine to buy t^m J^^ thougbt otherwise, and io I took f^ advice — ^well there's four hundred d^lars and over to £lse Curiey, and how ciii I tell but ibe scheming old witch is iiig' ^^ all the while — that and my tra- fditQg expenses and los? of time besides, irtn*amovint to a pretty considerable sum, l^ineteMyou.'? 1no mistake about tipir— ^' '*iattt8h, husb," ejaculated Hardwrinkle, "^jUiere's some one at the door— come in." The door opened, and an active, muscu- y looking man of middle age, entered and O advanced to the table at wbivh Ilprdwrin- kle was sitting. He was the oflfieer ofefipi-) stabalary whom the reader had se^it a t^#' nights before at Castle Gregory, ui ctftit^ pany with Captain Petersham. ■" ** Ah, it's you, is it," exclaimed fin<^r in. Taurny Barracks." *' "What, arrested! that's capita 'Be#a. Please step to the next room-^eieiiai^< lie Mr. Weeks, Pll return presently;" ' » ^ ' <« *e tbe ihost aotiyf rof J^e partjr, and vrliunr he. ha(t seen ^fi^l^ but cbuldhit reihehkber did he describe where.' << Stop a 9i6meht, sir : did he des his dress or persbn 7" ?^,.;^^^.- ,r;i 5 -. .>,^J^,r|^th9?.thiiikhe d|d| Wtl paid little ]4l^nijup|(i> to it, ppt thinking it a matter of much conseqpence. It appears to me, t|)4;qi)dp, he saj|d spmetbing about, Jiis wear- i#||# grie^ii jac^^^tior a fur ciap, or som,e- 'thmg to thatefiect/' ";,; tL- .. ,. ^,^iTh(i .veiy man, sir ; that^s Lanty Han- 1911,1^% ifure :9§ he's ^iiye, and^ite as danr g^ious a^oian top asBa^rry." . ,/f jj^ty jHai^ipn-— impossible, sir. You npeiMA , jth^. iipllpw . , against whom you issued t||!^> IfjB^rrW jor. ^he assault on Mr. « The identical person." ?!**P8\rdpn.,ipie — rthat cannot be, Mr. Hwrwnii^e— Qanlop was seen at a cock- fighli^ Ki^drum,, not six hours ago.'' . i ing along the shore as far as ^orn-hea^, and ther^ set sail for Aranmdre. It t^rn- ed put just as we expected. At the finf ' peep of day, thej>arty got into tkPbioiBil' and shoved off. They W6re^ ahead Pf M] when they started, we let iheih keep ahead: for two miles or mpre, till we'li^d goMi'' clear out pf sight of the Klrsheifme^'s m^J! Then stretching on oiir oars wie ipp'n taij^i^V^ along side and .grappled them with m>ilii'' we had taken With us for the ptii^bpifei,* ' « ftah," ejaiiulated Hardwrinte^ *^U&^ sp you secui*e(l'hitti atlastl'* *''.', '.'^ , « Yes, sir, ^c se^uieil bimjmiiBt^irth^ ■•svrfittiic-^''V,v.^'mf^:^r^m'«ixt..:--i,- A CHRONICLE OP INNlSHOWSN. }9^ out considerable difficulty." . «AYJ»at4jiahere8istr ' : ' ), "'j j^esisji:! yes^.as man iievef resisted be" rore,' tt appears the crew that .c6pveyed bim jto !R.a^i;)i Point, left him tiiere and r^ '^ufi^iedliQr^p) confident he was out of all dangei'; and two fresh hands appointed to jpppv.ey him to Aranmore were old meh 'b^ri^iy ^ble to paddle an oai' or handle a j^et. He was therejEbre left to depend jdmosi entirely upon his own resources.^ — ]Tbe ipstant we laid hold of the gunwale ot Vis boat he sprang up in the stern sheets, and 4eiBanded what we meant by stopping ^im. * I*m a Queen's officer,' said I, " and jbold a Varran t for you arrest.' " <**yAl!i! a Queen's officer,' he repeated, lancip^ ' at my civilian dress, Mndeed ! ITelly sir, take me if you can," and coolly awing a pistol from his belt, he said to 4M ^^^' "*Ha! ha!' he laughed^* iuirr^ildi^'ib hounds like you I Ohfoi- the ilr^ (6af|liiib stand oh, and a good thong tb It^nnel' ii^cb cowardly dogs. A pistol btilici* is^ too honorable a death for drivellW slaVe^' 10^4 « This tSuni stiing me to the quieVr^^ calling oh my men to rush.' on bini It'k body, X sprang forward myself to seize biii^, but, alas, I was again unfortuna,te^ cl'felt flat on my face on the; bottom bf the bj^at. In another A instant his heel trak oinmjr neck." ■ ■■■ ':' :':'"'^ «< < Lie there, dog I' he erled, ^iriisibii^ me till my eyes seemed to stai^ fboih ^eir sockets, 'lie there, and diie the only death you deserve. But the braggart i^ his tiirn had lit|e time to enjoy his adFantap;e; fbr my men seeing the danger 1 ivas m, tUd maddened by the fpllow's sconififl Iftti- guage, closed in upon ' him* As ihMj rushed forward he fired both pistols in th^ir faces, an4 two of them fell wounded tieside n me. « Dreadful !" exclaimed Hardwrii>kle| "but— go on— well!" i^'"'^ " * Now,' cried I, rising fVom mJT pros- trate and disgraceful j)6sitl6h," * labW my men, hold him, handcuff him, kill liim if he attempt to escape.' But now orders were of no avail, for he had sprung into the seft and was making for the shore." « < He's gong, sir,* cried one of th^ men." "Gone!" 106 THE LADY OP THfi BEACON 07 ARAHEERA. »"..V.'«»^*''' ' * i. r«l 1 1 << < ITm, ilwre he is with bis coat off, 8wiminm|r away from as like a water dog.' " f** What's to be done—what's to be doflCy' I cried) in an agony of disappoint- ment, < has no one presence of mind to tiunl^ of some means to capture him. He's vH^tn haff a nin-shot of the beach, and 1f01 reach it before we can get our oars into tbei^loeks."'"^ ,^ ^^J^vsi then the thought of the fire-arms )JB lua orercoat occurred to me, and snatch- ing up the garment, I drew a holster pistol from its pockety and aiming as deliberately ttXcoBUi in such a moment of excitement, nre^- Tjie ball, as good fortune would mve, sitruck Kim on the right arm, and dis- 'lil^d him.. sin&s before we can reach him."^ 1^ "jlil, another minuice we had taken him ilioard, exhausted and bleeding, and there he l|ty ill the boat's bows, without word or motion of any kind, till we reached the qiiay,|inder Taunyr Barracks." .<* Weir^ thank heaVien," said Hardwrin- kre»<' he's safe for the present at least, and t^movri|>w I sign his coinmittal to Lefford hu. As for you, Mr. C , you have 4^e)rbttr duty as a faithful servant of the tiv^ythf and shall not go unrewarded. So ROir let us return, and carry the good news ^m Wiecks*" ,^^* Jjfty^^ear cousin," contined Hardwrin- kw, entering Weeks' room, followed by the o^^er of constabulary, "I have good things for you." ** You have-— eh T" " Yes—^tidingit of great import." "Ipd^d— let's hear what they're like." /'Whj, Randall Barry (your rival)," he said, wKispering the word in hfs ear, " is a prisoner in Taurny Barrcks." ,; f " |*saugh—-you don't say so ? Is it pos- sible"?" "A fact sir." "On what charge, pray?" enquired Weeks. « Treason— treason agahiitthe State, of course. You've heard all about him, have you not 1" ** Why, yes, I've heard something aboat his being connected wit some young reVa. Itttionia— that's all." ''Humph, you speak lightly of the matter, my good cousin." ** And I think lightly of it too," replied Weeks, promptly, ** so far as it may be re- garded as a crime. Were 1 in hia place,! should do precisely what he has dotte.'' " What, revolutionize the country!" " Yes, by crackie. It's a fiiU tima,Jt should think, the people got rid Of these o|d monarchies. These darned old tyrannicil governments of yours ought to have be^ sent to kingdom come long ago. Aa for his being a rival of mine, why, I don't thiak the less of him for that, and if you bavi busied yourself about his arrest on that ac^ counf, I tell you what Robert, you maka an almighty ioiistake if you think rm uhd«r any obligation to you for the job." ** Why, cousin, you surprise me." *^ Welt them's my sentiments, notwith- standing. He's a fine, spirited, galtani looking young fellow," continued Weekfl, << and if he hate and despise your slow go. ing, drivelling old kings and queens, by thunder I like him the better (or telling them so to their teeth; and ifhelovaft Mary Lee, why should'nt he try to catoh her the best way he can. Let every mat have a fair chance." *^ If these be your sentiments, my dear cousin," said HardwrinLle, ** they are Very different, I roust confess, from what I bad isxpected of you." ** Well, sir, they are my sentiments pre« cisely-^real ti;ue blue Yankee sentiments,, and no mistake." " Well, well, I must acknowledge I was deceived in you, cousin, and I'm sorry for it. But we must postpone further discu^ sion on the subject for t^)e present. I see Rebecca and her sisters out there on their "VtVI^^ ».«tw«rv-»*:t'»t-".-«»i— A CHROmCLG OP INNISHOWEIT. 107 wty to Bdlymagahey. I mu^t speak to | tbem a word or two of caatiOn before thej I leave. So pray excuse me, Ephraim." **Go ahead, ^ ahead," replied Weeks, Bnlparing to light another cigar — ^''go iiiiead, and don't mind me," and the speak- er was left alone at last, to enjoy the com- fort of a quiet Havana. CrfAPTERVI. Blr. Weeks left his room soon after his 'fQniMO^r-it being now somewhat advanced hi the forenoon,—- and with a cigar in his inpiiibf descended the steps of the hall door, jad sauntered out to breathe the fresh air. It was a delightful morolngr Every thing looked cheerful and pleasant. The new mpwD hay lay in long swathes on the lawn exhaling the perfumes under the warm sun. The mowers, swart with toil, were slowly sweeping their scythes through the ripe grass, and moving upwards side by side with measured steps across the broad field. — Over the tops of the trees which skirted the demesne below, and through the vistas which time or the axe had made amongst (hem, appeared patches of Mulroy bay, now as calm and bright as a mirror^ On its southern shore might be seen a little wbite- iRfashed' building, showing a gilded cross on its gable facing the sea, and round about among the fern and hawthorns, with which it was surrounded, a number of white head-^ stones peeping out here and there to mark it for a burial place of the dead. This was Massmount where our foreign friend first taw Mary !Lee as she knelt at the altar.- — It was a solitary spot, — and as pleasant for the dead to rest in as could be found in the whole world. No house within a mile of it, and no noise to disturb its repose, but the twitter of the swallow about the eves of the little church, or the gentle wash of the waves amongst the sea-shells at its base. And if on the Sunday morning, the silence which reigned there through ail the week was broken, it only seemed to make the stillness that succeeded the more solemn and profound. To the eastward of the chapel, and surrounded by a belt of trees, was located the modest residence of Mr. Guirkie, its white chimneys just visibke from the windows of Croban house, and spreading away to the westward a long tooh gue of meadow land called Morass-ridge, on the tip or extreme point of which rose up the still ruins of Stran?iafth, onti % stronghold of the far famed O'Doughertjr of Inoishowen. Midway between tli^ two prominent features in the landscape, appeared the old church*yard of ]Mha«- mount with its little white cb»j[>el faeing the sea. Mr. Weeks, touched by the limply beauty of the scene, laid himself dowik hiiif unconsciously on the green sward to eiij<^ it at his leisure. Dear Irish reader, let us sit down beside him for a moment and view the picture also. There is nothing in it new to your eyes, to be sure, — nothing yoii hav'nt seen a thousand times before. It was only ilk old church-yard, and old church-yards 19 Ireland you know are always the saine;'^ The same old beaten footrpatbs through the rank grass, — the same old hawthofi^ trees which in early summer shed their white blossoms on the green graves— the same old ivy walls over shadowing the mma covered tombs of the monk and nun. No^ there was nothing strange or new in tlM picture — on the contrary every thing theirl was as ^miliar to.you as your own thOUgbtSf But tell us, dear reader— now that we ci^ converse quietly together — does not the sight of such a spot sometimes wake up old memories? Do you still remeiqtbet the place in the old ruins where the Pii6r's( Ghost was seen so often after sunset, or the fairy tree beside the holy well Which no axe could cut down, nor hutaan hand brailE a branch off with impupityT--Bc0 ^ grassy mound where you knelt to drop the last tear on bidding farewell to the had you will uever see again ? Oh, dear reader, do your thoughts aver waqder back to 108 TH^ jLADY OF THB BEACON OF ARAHEERA. W t^ese scenes of your youth ? WfaeOf inlh^ opg summer eyeuipEs^ after the toil of the 4ay js over,: you sit by tl]|,e ptprch of the striu^ger enjoying the cool night air, and gazinff up at the sparkling heavens above you, does your eye ever roam in seffTch of thilV star you should know better than all jthe rest, the bright one that shines oq your J01r^<^ native isle of the ocean r' When ypur heart feejs sad under the sense of its isolation jTiay, when it turns with disgust from the treacherous and the cold-hearted, .trl}0, haying wiled you to their shores, now djepjyotj^.even a foothold on their soil,— (Iocs ipembry then ever carry you back to .the old ^omesjteatl among the hills, where ,m bye-go^e years you have met so many ^ene;>ojgus j^oujls r^Qund the humble hearth- stone ? Alas ! alas I when you look at those jonce stalwart limbs you gave your adopted epuntry,as a recompense for the freedom she promised you, now wasted away in her service \ when you think of the l^lood you ;ihe^li9,hpr .battles, the prayers you offered jTpr hjer prosperity, the pride with which you heard her name spo)cen of in other lands, and the glorious hopes you on,ce entertain- ed ot seeing her the greatest and the best of the nation^ of the earth — and yet to think, oh, to think, that the only return she makes for all this is to hate and spurp you. ^hen thoughts l|ke tljiese weigh down your ^rt, tell US; (dear reader, do you not ifpmetimes long to see the old knd again, and lay your shattered franne down to rei^t }ti that, shady corner you rememher so well m the old church-yard ^ ; 3ut they tell you here you must not in- 4nlge such thoughts 83 these. On the con- tsn^y you must fprget the past, you must reno|i|npe your love for thje . country that g^ve you birth ; yogi ijaust seyer every tie 4ths|t^kpits ypu to her bosom; you must ab- jure ^niEi repudiate her fprever more; the sopgs yoii| 9ung and the stories you to)d so often! by the light of the peat iire, must never be sung or told again ; all the asso- ^iatipps of home and friends, all the plea- sant .rei^olleotions of your liitoybpod, pll the traditipns of ypvr warrior aod sajn^ed. an- cestors, must be blotted fropi your m.etBp|;y as so many treasons ogainst,the l^d^ of your adoption.. Or if you do venture. ,tp speak of old times, apd old places, when y;^ ineet with long absent friends, roijipd , tl^ social board, it inust be inwhi^ers ^a^j^ with closed doors. Jest the strangers should hear ypu as they pass by. And behold the rpturn they make you for these sacrifices ! They give you freedom, freedom to live like helots in the laudVth^ promised to jnake yoW own,-^freedttyj % worship your Crpator under a roof Wfeh li sodless mob may at any moment Stt ynfh impunity, — freedoi^ tp shed yPut* felobij 'in defence of a flag that would gladly w^ve in triumph over the extipctioi^pf your ractl. Speak, exile, are you willip]g to rehOf|if(r^ your fatherland for such a recpmpepse as this? Oh if you be, may no ray of ^lihf light ever visit your grave, no iViend br rtk lacion, wife or child, ever shed gi tear to hallow it. ff you've fallen so low as t? kiss the foot that spurns you, and grownib mean as to fawn upon a nation that flin|§ you from her with disgust, then go and live the degraded, soulless thing thou art, fit only to fatten on garbage and rot in a pot- ter^s field. Go! quit this place, for th^ sight of an old Irish Church yard has no c&rmsfb.'you. ^ : .no^^ ]\ir. Weeks had now been sitting fotlialf ap hour or more contemplating the sbene before hipi, when hearing the sound of ap- proaching footsteps, he turned to see who was comipg. It was Rebecca Hardwrinkle, a^dbift^ panied by the colporteur and two of her younger sjster^, on their ]pray to Ballyiha|;- ahey. -l « Wfell, there," said Weeks rising attd shaking off the chips he had been whittling from a withered branch that happened to lie within his reach— *•' thel'e ! I thought you'd gone long ago." " My brbther detained md," replied Epr ■ - ♦?»■'^P9^'^V^^"' *^^arfW)R«J!V«M*iV*WWR?«»«»5^ A CHR6ni6LE of fl^NIsAoWEdt' 10^' Utti^ ^ to select ^oMe tracts fnyni a par^ ce} be had just received as I waft leav^ jQff the house, and seeing yoo herey I passed tilts way to offer you one for your inspet-^ tiofa* It's otf the' efficacy of prayer." <* Huntph 1" ejaculated Weeks, boking at^tbe book, " I know what you're coming 1^, t guess; I hay'nt been at family worship t^s niomihgi*^ "Ah coiisin, were it only once you ab- s(^ted yoUnself, we might find some excuse —bat, to be absent so often— ^ob, dear !" •« Wdl now look hisre, I don't profess to M lAu^ of a Christian, you know, a^d con- sequently you can't expect me to get used to' your tastes right straight off) without considerable training." « And then your religious sentiments are 80 very shocking, Epfaraim, that I tremblo to think of your soul, and the end that •Waits it if you turn not speedily to the Iioi^d. Read that little book, however, attentively, and you will find it of great spiritilal advantage. And then, dear cou- un| I shall have you piayed for next sab- bath." « Me prayed for?" "Certainly." « Grues3 not.'' "Why, can you have any possible ob- j^tiott to be prayed for by the God fear- idg, piOti^ servants of the Lord?" " Well, yes, I rather think I have — a slij^it one."' **How very strange! did you only once feel the benefit you would derive from the ptHyers of the elect." "Just so^ — but I'm kinder gr^n you kno^in that line." fliiiiilv <*!l^other Itobert and Abigail there, Hannah and all of us have been prayed for so often, and nave always felt our litrengt r^nev^d . in wondeif ui ' a manner." j«iNot a doubt of it» But you see^ I feof cOiisidOrablo sfirong as it is, and ai'nt dis- pofed to troUbllf you just at present. Say couiin^^ Wh^t-oabont^ litere is the priest's honb^^i^iit that it over there west of the pond? I want to caH on the old feller this morning;" *♦ Yes, that's his hOuse, that little cof^ * -taj^e there; but wliat dan your business bc^ with himy Ephraim 1" « Wdl not mueh,' if any, should like t■? "''i-^' 'v ' • ■ ' ^ " Well — nothing prejudicial to hef hon- or, I presume i'' Rebecca glanced significantly at her sister and Mr* Sweetsoul, but said nothitig in reply. ■■ no tH£ LADt Of TUl^ BJBACOll Of ARAUeERA. f< B|cus9 mtt^ said Weeks, *< I should'nt have put that question perhaps ; but the fact is the young lady has invited me to Cutle Gregory, and I can't venr well refuse ; besides, her brother, Captain reter- sham, tt most anxious to have me call on him.»^ '< Did the lady invite you herself?" en- quired Rebecca. « Why, cartainly. I had a note from her a week ago to that efiiect." "Written by herself r " Weil, her name was signed to it — K^te Petersham." Rebecca afi;ain glanced at her compan- ions, a|a4 Iriod to blush and look mortified a(« such indelicate conduct. ** Well, it did seem kinder strange, I al- low," said Weeks, " but not being well ported up as to the customs of the country, I did'nt i;npw but it was all right." ''ibon't go, Ephraim," said Rebecca, layine her black gloved hand affectionately on hia arm* ** Bon't go, if you take my adviee." < What sorter lokees ve, aoj '.H'u -••'•ill I \i me, dear Epln [would not of' only speak ^ r cousio. Mr. r oftefi I lia?f locj how iocea- w \^t of tr»iH|^ \ Sai'ut r )g talk tiU Tia: tf.'f^Ai* a 80 nerirpqa ^ Rebecca, tiaro* the cannot bear rice." I the vfonder, king reliffipn al why,Ipan't , but I'm taken ; an indulgence^ r it's one darnr ; you know that •e at heart, and i we speak to cause we love ish before our; If of religion rhat's the talk 't say another ad. I'll stand can," and the li he had just it again, aa vi- hittiiog it for evidently ex- keep cool.— rouma/judpfe , ot to fear lor sbecca, again 'Juat loplf at. of popish ros- rmaii) found on A CHRONICLB OF INNISHOWEM. Ill tbe floor of Mr. Weeks' bed-room the ng^og after he first entered tlie lishtbouse iodge^at Araheera/' and the speaker held tbem up between her finger and thumb for jMpeetiop. « Dreadful !" ,« T^ was his first lesson from the Ro- nisb light'keeper and his pretty daughter." . f Xfaaiie already explained to you how 1 eiims by these beads," said Weeks. **1 piflied them up where they had fallen from IB I old bible at the Jight-house, and un- tJMal^ingly put them in my pocket. But no n^ter now j fire away;?' ;< j«^n.i i j.Uf Don't grow angry, Ephraim.'^ <«Iai'nt angry." «I merely' call your attention to the beads to shew you the danger you have to ([uard against the forming Catholic associa- tioDS. ' Is there any thing in that to make jrftjBaogry with mel" « 1 ai'nt angry, I tell you, not a mite." 'M ITpu 'are angry. I see it in your cdpntenance^ Bphraim. Oh' if youf only experienced religion for* one little week how 9isily you could repress this irritability. — There now, see how you cut up that stick Mfett^hlyi. ! Just see how nervous you are."f' "1 tell you I^m not not nervous," cried "^^eeks, at the top of his voice. << And so excited, then." « I ai'nt excited." for an instant in bis ste|^ and looking back, « by gracious you ought to turii to at^ottee and spoon feed me." * ' ;^T^- "• Mr. Weeks on parting with his Ikd^ cousins (which he did rather abruptly 'as we have seen in the last chapter), retumeifl to CrPhan House, and lighting another ci- gar, mounted the sober animal he generally selected for a morning's ride, and set out for Father B/ennan's. When he airrited at the Rev. gentleman's residehce, he was somewhat disappointed to learn from* the servant, that he had gone some five or' six miles from home on a sick call, and could not possibly return till late in the evening. Resolving however to have an interview with the. priest with as little delav as pos- sible, he drew a card from the richly carved case he always had about him, and having written a request to that effect on the back of it with bis pencil, handed it to the ser- vant, and then turned his horse's head in the direction of Greenmount Cottage^' > Mrs. Motherly was sitting on the steps of the hall door, knitting her stocking, and looking quite happy as she plied her needles. The good woman was dressed as usual in her large well frilled cap and white apron, with her bunch of keys hanging by her side, as much perhaps for show as coilveni- ence. On the grass at her feet a grat eat lay stretched in the sun with half a dozen kittens playing about her on the green. it Mm. Mnthprlv. bnw d'vA do f" t «Why, dear me, Mr. SweetsPul, only. "Mrs. Motherly, how d'ye dot" said look at him." « There !" exclaimed Weeks at length, loosing his temper altogether, and flinging away .both knife and branch <<< there^ good bjre ; by tbunfler if this ai'nt the most in- human treatment that ever man- suffered." <(Stay^*Epbraim, stay cousin ; do for one moment,^' entreated Rebecca, endeavoring to lay hold of bia arm; ' ** Nota tecondr' lie cried buttoning his coat an<3 hurrying off full of indignation at the idea tif being treated so like; ar child or a fool* **]^/]g^aciQuaV he ftdded haltiog Weeks. « Mr. Guirkie at home 1" " Your sarvint, sir," replied the matron, rising and running her needles into tlie stockin, after she had waited to count the stitches. « Mr. Guirkie's not in, air." "Ai'nti" • ' P " No, sir ; he left here about an hour ago for Rathmullen." « Rathmullen—- let me see— that's the place he visits so often 1" "Yes, sir." "•Goes there every week, doB^t bel"^ « Every Thursday, sir." >««Oii business^ X i^reswiie ?" tl2 THE lady: or thi bxacon or arahecra. i,y m <« No, ftb, not tbat I know of." , M G«t relatifei tker«, perhaps 1'* « No, sir ; be has DO relatives living, I bdieve. People say though he*8 often seen iitting on a tomb-stone there in the ould gnTojrard." . >« Well— -mast be some friend, I guess 1" .Am, Wh/, if the gentleman was a native of iitHS part o' the country, U might," respond- ed Mrs. Motherly, « but he's not j be was born in Cork or Clare, or somewhere thereabouts, I bear." << DociH he never speak to yon of these visits, Mrs. Motherly r . "Never air." « You don't say so ! It's odd, ai'nt it If . , « Ob, it's just of a piece with the rest of bia doings. He never thinks of telling me any thing, of course; why should he—I'm nothing but satvint, you know, I'm only bete to do the work, slavia and sludg^n from momin till night, strivin to place him and l^umor faim, tul my heart's amost broke, and ail the thanks I get is mighty easy told, Mr Wneks, wh6n all's over." «Don't doubt it. He's a verv odd kinder man in Us ways, that's a fact.'' « You may well say that, sir. He's the provokinest man ^at ever drew breath, thaVa the short and the loing of it. But wonSt fom light and come in, sir 1" «W«Hf guess I shall, come to think of St, Say, can't T write a note a bere, and leaveftforMr-Guirkie;?" " Sartihly, sir j come in, there's paper and ipifis. plenty in the parlor. As for the cratur on the sofa, he'll not disturb you in the laste.?'i . « Hilloa ! who the thunder is this ;" cried Weeks, as he entered theparlw and beheld the African strotohei at his full ItogCh on the sofa, and apparently fast asleep. " A nigger, ni'nt ho J'^ ' i? ;>- ' i « Yes, sir j that's our new boarder,''> re- plied Mi^« Motherly, in mthur -%' taustie tone of voice. , , «But ho^ the dii^kftna did heoome •as.. harel" **Mi, Ghnrkie, air, carried the Matte, man home with faim from the wreek?* « Ah, that's it. I have heard of a wred lately somewhere here in the neighbor hood." ** He's a very respectable boarder f6ri lone woman, is'nt he, Mr. Weeks r* « Well, don't know exactly ; that's alii matter of taite. Some folks I9te nigMi ver^ much. There's our New Engllii •ladies, for instance, they're terrible IdN to niggers. I'd venture to say, if this here chap happened to be cast asbore ^ where along the eastern seaboard, thtfv'd gather round and clothe and feast hia like a prince, before he got well oat of the water." ■ ■•""iH-vti ' ' "'/ ■■ \ « You're jokin, Mr. Weeks." ** No nuim, 1 ai'nt jokin a mite." ** And you tell me theyVe so fond of then as all that!" ** Fond,ye8,ffuesstbeyarefond-^they'i« the most almi^ty fond creatures in ^t way in all creation." ' ^ Bedad then, Mr. Wedcs, I don't entf their tastfe very mncb." « Well, it's not that their taste lies thM way, either," replied Weeks, «for theft«t is, they despise nigeers as much as any peo- ple in the word^ But it's a sorter phmi- thropy, you see that's made up ofn half sfea- timental> half benevolent kinder squdamikb* ness, with a slight dash of the religious is it by way of seasoning." " Yes, sir, of coorse.'* ' ■ ■ ' " « You understand me?" «0h paHieCtly, sir. They must ^ might V charitable infirely to the creatiirts, QA bless tbemj" « Very charitable indeedv That is, I mean to the slave portion of the race.— Sometimes their philanlbrofiy impels then tven to bawh tlleir je#els to buy a dave from bondage." *■ ■ ♦ « See^thatbow. IfS^nt it wohdhttrfurto tbiiik of it^ and still I tffEUr heard Mr. Guirkie say the crttun out there in Ane- »y^3er%w«^y t- ■» wn«?r?g»iWB»3r«w«K^^ A CHRONi^ItB or INNIS^OWCN. 118: »rried the mttew tl»irfeek?» >lieardofawi>ec| in the nelgbboyi. ible boarder ftri . Weeks f»» •cOyj that's in, Mks Iflfce nigMii ir New EiigiiiM ^'re terrible kigj re to saj, iftlilg i cast ashore ittt seaboard, th«v*4 le and feast fiin ot well oat of the ^eeks.** in a mite.'* >re so fond of then arefond>^they*n creatitres ki tlit teksjldoo'tetttf eir taste lies thit eks,«fortheAct much as any peo- I a sorter pMafi. e up of a half sfeB- cinder squeam&lh the religfous is ymustliemii ►cl^ ■ Tl»e is, I in of theitice.— opy imiiels then Istobuy ad^ve b wohdkttrfal^^o 4Btiit heard Mr. : there in Ane- riea wam't so badly oif after all." H Well; no — Kuess they'fa pretty well of for ti)othes and food) and all that sorter tfaing. But they bai'nt got their liberty MifluMW ; and no American born ought to gee a human in slavery and not try to liber-r lte him." a Xrue for you, Mr. Weeks, yuu speak )ike g CbristiaDf so you do. Dear knows jt'sa poor sight to see God's creatures ])Qiight ai)d sould, as they say they are prtf there, just for al| the world like a 0Qif or a horse — it's oqnatMraj, that's what His." <^ It's shocking!" << And still," said Mrs. Motherly, <« they t^l us the poor Irish there |s'nt trated much lietter than slaves." ** My dear woqiaq, don't believa a word of it." ** Why I have a letther ii| my pocket here, fropi a niece of mine, that's livin in a place called Boston, and she tells me it's terrible, to think of what they suffer. There it is," continued the good woqian, opening it and pointing to a particular passage, u they're thrated h^re like slaves, and have nere to anffer froiip the Yankees, especially ia regard to our religion^ thai) ever we had at honie from the bloody persecut|n Eng- Ush. It's a wonder they're pot ^shamed to piirfess 80 much ti^derpesss for the ibives, and tra^e the poqr Xrish sq mai^ely astha^**' ** My dear i^QinaQ, you don't u^derstimid the e^se as it really is. It's only the lower orders of our people act so." , ** Ai^ why don't the upper or4ers mak^ tbei9 behave ^bemselves then P <^ Ca^'t do lit* It's a free covntry," re* p^i^d W^eks. ** Oh bad wine to stich freedom as that. I ^ out casting up their religioa and their priest to them* Ah that's mane,, sir, mane as dirt to ip^lt a poor girl tgr abusin bev religiQA*'^ « Well-^I hai'nt got much time to 8pare> now, ^8. Motherly^ let us nut of this subject till another time. So I'll just [sel; down here> if yon hav'nt no objection^, and write a note for Mtp Guirkie, which yon?lt please to hand hun as soo as he Ketums.?' » Sartinly, Mr. W«eks ^th the fpfktr lU THB LAOT 07 THB BIACON 0? ARAIISERA. here II! ctt pleasure in life ; I liope Sambo won't diiturb you, sir." << Not in the )aste, Mrs. Motherly.— Ue'ea|ileep,ai'nther' ** Bo it seems, and still I niver kneir him to sleep at this hour of the day. He wos sittio up a ninit or two before you came. I'll see. * Sambo ! Sambo ! wake up.' — There's not a stir in him." ** Well, I nirer saw him asleep but he snored strong enough to draw the sides of the house together. And see npw, he hardly seems to breathe. ■* Sambo,' she repeated, shaking him by the arm — * Sam- bo, wake up ; here's the gentleman you were asking about the other day.' " " About me ?" • '"yo«k no# him place strifcejtbe poor nigger." " You see lliat," obsenred Mrs. Motlic- ly, " he seems to know tou." " Massa Charles— why who the thunder are you— eh 1" **Ob, golly, there Massa Charles, not know Sambo !" " What Sambo." " Wby, Jubal Sombo— gosh I that very sprizin, many time Massa lick'd Sambo on old plantation." " Where ?" demanded Weeks; his words growing few and faint as the negro's Toiee and features grew more and more familiar to him. ' " Where ! yah, yah, no remember Mooie Creek, old Virginny 1 Massa Charles look him my back, him know Sambo better: ebery one knows him own marks.^' "Moose Creek! — good heareas!" there ! exclaimed Weeks, ^' well by crackie if that ai'nt the most unexpected — " " Yah, yahj" chuckled the African, now that his shin no longer troubled bin, " Ma^ no spect see Sambo, so far from home. Sambo no fraid massa now, Sam- bo free nigger, yali ! yah !" " Mrs. Motherly, said Weeks, turning to the house keeper, who stood looking oa apparently much interested in the conver* sation, " may I beg you to quit the" room for a few moments, I should like to say a few words to this poor fellow-^seems ta< me I have seen him before." > ^ " Indeed then you have, sir, I'll warrant that mnch," said Mrs. Motherly looking up at Weeks' face now as pafe as a sheeted' paner. " But sure if you have anj^thing in private to say to him, I'll not prevent you. Strange how people ibeet» sometimes sb far from liome, and when they lastis expect it tDo into the bargain. Is'ntit<]uare,Mf^ Weeks ■■?'*'■ " :.-... i»4-'?'!j-. (ju4ii*>** "Very much so irideed--^ut' you'll ext cusemeMrs. Motherly;-" n^a f^^t •- ^* Sarttnly, sir, I was only just ^goin to tell you bow. Mr. Guirkie, thravellin in America, oaee < met with^ t.n ould^ rival of bis in the same way,, that M thoughtnwaa ^ y^' V Af yg ^ i ■ 'wiy^^'.'N'r-TT'g^.'^g^^^- Ted Mrs. Motln . u. 1} who Ibe thundtr issa Cbariet, not -|;oih ! that vtrj lick*d Sambo oa W'eeks; his ironb !be negroes Toie« id more familiar remember Mooie assa Charles look r Sambo better: marks." ood heaveasP ' well bj crackie pected — " he African, now * troubled bin, i)o, so far from assa now, Sam- Weeks, taming tood lookng on in the oonvcr* quit th« room i like to saj a illow-^setms t^ sir, I'll warrant 'otherly looking •afeas a sheet of ia?e anything in lot prevent /ou. r someiines 80 ley lastis txpiect 'ntit<)uare,M^^ -|)ut '^Ott'U^ex^ [7 ju8t<.goin to ie, thrafellin in Ln ould^rival of « though^4|waa A CHAOfilCLV Of iNNtSHOWBN. 115 (leaft t#entf years before. It was the od- dest thing m the world. Him and Mr. Gairkie it seems in their f oune days were both courtin the same young lady, but so lo and behold you, she went off at last with die other gentleman, and then Mr. Guirkie nsde a TOW never to marrv^ seein he had no heart to give any one, for he loved the girl beyond all raison, and indeed to this very day he carries her picture about with kim wherever he goes. Well he went leross the seas to thravel thinkin to forget ker among the strangers, and what would j9 bear of it, but alter leaving the West ladi^ and landin in the States of America, the first face he knew was that of his ould rival. There he was standin on the Quay right before him as he stept ashore from the vessel." >}<*Very strange, indeed,'* assented Weeks, " a very remarkable circumstance ir^iceedingly so. But wo'nt you allow ■e, Mrsi Motherly V* V " Sartinly, Mr. Weeks, sartinly, sir." i« Gosh, dat bery quere," muttered Sam- bo. " What t" demanded Weeks. << Why, Massa Guirkie meetin him old ribal on de wharf." <« How so. Sambo;" « Well old Massa Talbot say same ting^ Moder told me all about it long time ago« Massa walk on the wharf, and dere comes him old ribal right out of de ship afore him bery eyes, de man he link was dead and boried.. De sight almost knock him blind. ^' << Any thing else I can do for you, Mr. Weeks 1" i ^Nothing, Mrs. Motherly, nothing at present." "Then Pll leave you, sir, together, to settle your own affairs, only I would advize you, Mr. Weeks, before I go, to caution ibis fetbw not to call you Massa Charles uiy more, for the people of this wicked worid are always watchin and peepin into othef people'd'bttsiMBS,.yoa;kabw, end' t^n . chaneeojto ^ne but they^d say iy(^ ^er'nt the man you nm-tended to be, at all, at all." So saying, Mrs. Motherly made het usual' " courtesy" at the door, and closed it h¥*- hind her. CHAPTER XVni. secret Mrs. During Mr. Week's long and conference with the negro (for Motherly was carefully included from the robm), Hard wrinkle still remained closeted with the officer of constabulary at Croban House, devising plans for the immediate committal of llandall Barry to Liffordjail. A difficulty, however, presented itself, which Mr. Hardwrinkle had entirely over- looked in his zeal for the safety of the state — namely, the presence of Captain Petersham, of Castle Gregory, who jiS senior magistrate of the baron jr, was vei^ much in the habit of taking such cases mto his own hands, and disposing of them ac-; cording to his own peculiar view of the law thereunto made and jprovided. Mr. Hardwrinkle, it appears, in order to avoid unnecessary delay, was for having the prisoner brought before himself and com- I mitted forthwith — but the officer demurred on the ground that the Captain had already^ in anticipation of Barry's arrest, given strict orders to have the nrhottsr broufelit befoi^ feiwt, and no other. • Hai'dwrittKM denied Captain Petersham's right to isito^ such orders, inasmuch to the crime cha^^ against Barry was a capital offettcp, re- quiring prompt and summary adt^on by the nearest of her majesty's justices of^tM peace, without distinction of rank. Fur- thermore, be contended that Captiiin Petersham, from his well knOWii disaffec- tion to the government, and his notorious opposition to its measures for the " ame- tiofation" of Irelandi was neither a fit or proper person to try the case ttt all. :StiH morej-^he assured the officer that the Captain's anxiety to take Barff Sfttd liis <^'« ha#ls Was but: the ednsequfeW^ of a secfct' determination en bii part to let the 116 THE LADV OF TUB BBACON OF ARAHEERA. youBg rebel esoape, if be could possibly do eO) OR some pretence or other, and fiiere* fore to trust such a man with the case was virtually to defeat the law, and frustrate tl^e designs of the gorernment. These remonstrances, however, seemed to produce but little effect on the police officer, who still persisted in bis determina- tion of bringing, the prisoner before the senior magistrate as in du^ bound— radding by way of makeweight, that he valued ^\^is life too highly to risk it by an act of pre- meditate disobedience to the orders of such a madman and fire-eater as Captain Tom if^etersbam of Castle Gregory. At length, after various plans and schemes had been proposed and rejected, it was filially agreed that nothing could be done for the present, but that early on the following morhiqg Mr. Hardwrinkle should de^tc)) his servantiS post-haste to certain magistrates of the neighborhood, on whose loyalty be could depend, requesting their presence next day' qn the iPetit Sessions bench, in order to Reutraliz^e any efforts that might be made by Captain Petersham to free the prisoner. Jn the mean time the barracks should he well guarded, par-* tieularty tbro^gh the night, and ^very pos- sible precaution takeq agaii^st a^y attempt Rt rescue by ^be friends ao4 abettors of the yoR^g ot^tlavf. \Yith this un^derstanding thp two a^iealous defenders of church aiid 8^ M separated, each congratulating tli^e other on having secured at last the person of so dangerous i^nd maKgnaRi; a traits as Eandall Barry. Whilst the above consultation was gojng on, Mif^ Weftks bad quite recovered fron) theconsterRation hefelt on recognizing the negro in Mr, Guirkie's parlor, and, after leaving his message with {Mrs. Motherly, was now proceeding on his way to Castle preffory, looking as grave and composed |u if nothing bad occurred to disturb his f quaninity. The animal or which he rode rr^e have Mid already—- wai by ro irmrs rj^arkabte «itber for bis beauty of shape or swiftness of foot, and so low withal thtt his rider's feet almost touched Uie ground as he jogged along. Still the animai, though of low stature, was nevertheless re* markably thick set and stout, and looked strong enough to carry a much heavier load if he only made up his mind to do it. We add this saving clause, because the little £ellow happened to belong to the species of horse called the ^ Hahery or BAthliit pony," ivell known in the north of Ireland^ and famous not only for its great strengtii^ but also for its inveterate habit of resuting all {Attempts at coercion, so that ** as wrong** headed as a i^hery" had long becoine a con^nion expression throughout the pro«! vince. Mr. Weeks, w:hen he fyat took a Rotios to try the horse for a momioig's ride, was cautioned by bis Crohan friends not to trust him too far* Rebecca especially took great pains to acquaint her good eousia with the pony's bad habits, and to put him on his guard. But Weeks, confident of his superior horsemanship^^ and anxious to verify the truth of his favorite sayings « that no living critter could come it over him," would listen nekiier ^o advice or caution. The little Eahery, as vve have before observed, being neither fast nw ban,dsome>, and having littk therefore to, feel pi^oud of,^ contented himself with trottijag a^ne ia his own quiet way, without the least pre^. tensioR Ir the world, aad earing ^ust as little for the opinions of his neighbors as. 1^ did for t^ spurs of the rider. ISotwitbstanding all our hero's boasting, however, it was quite evident be knew little how to govern, 'the horse he rode just then,, whatever be ipigbt have been able to do at home in New Engird, for he kept tug^ng at the reins and pricking the creature's, sides with a constant imifOTm motion, as H- the double movement of hand and heel cooh stituted an essential part of the exercise. Wfot^r tbe gruff, buQ-'li^ded little brute feit be ^4 * graeiltborn qn l^s back, or A CHROMICLE OF INNtSROWllf 117 whether he resolved "to hold the event teoor of his way" dea^ite bridio and spur, rather than quicken his pace, is difficult to teli. But certain it is, Mr. Week's efforts Memed to mend the matter bat very little. Id this faf^ion, however, he managed to ibdge along for a mile or two, his legs swinging ) and fro under the horse's belly, and his left hand jerking the bridle at every step, ynhen all of a' sudden- the pony came to a dead halt, and absolutely refused to jiioeeed another inch in that direction. Mr« Weeks, who had ridden the horse hilt a dozen times before, and never had any difficulty with him, was rather sur- prized at his conduct, and took good care to express himself accordingly, bot Mune. But to his great disappointment he found himself mistaken. Everything was exactly were it ought to be. Takn;* the reins then he tried to lead the poney past the spot, but the poney absolutely and decidedly refused to lift a loot. It i^ very provoking to Mr. Weeks to find him- self there '< on the public highway" beating and shouting at the perverse little brute, and everybody laughing at him as they passed by. It was unpleasant, to say the kast of it, and Mr. Weeks, as mi^t be expected, felt very uncomfortable indeed. At length when he tried and tried in vain, and saw no likelihood of succeeding by ordinary means, he drew a knife from his pocket, eut a stout ash sapling from a tree by the roadside, and then mounting again laid on the pony with might and main, de- teranined that if he still refused to proceed it should not be for want of urging. The animal finding matters growing serious, but resolved notwithstanding to have his own Way, BtiH took the bridle bit between his teeth, and poking down his Head, wheeled round, and startM ^off to Crohan H^use ftt full gallop* Weeks, unable to manage the sapKng any longer, threw it from him,ittd seised the reins with both hands to haul him up, but alas ! he might as well Irave seized the horns of a buffalo— on drove the head-strong little Bahery at the top of bis speed, and apparently with as much ease as if he carried a child on his back. « Hoa ! boa !" shouted Weeks, ** hw, ye darned critter." The pony unaccustomed to the Yankee manner of address, mistook it probably for a command to go the faster, and on be drove accordingly. '^^ << Tarnntion to ye !" cried Weeks aeain as his hat flew off, and his long sandy haii* floated back on the breeze. « Tamntion to ye ! hav'nt ye got no mouth On ye nor nothing, hoa ! then boa ! ! I say. Oh, merciful heavens ! such a country." At this moment a party of gentlemen and ladies, some five or six in number, eame riding up, meeting him at a smart trot, and Weeks seeing their approach motioned to stop his horse. One of the riders crosised the road for that purpose, and waved bis handkerchief, but the mischievous aniaHtf on seeing his way blocked up, instead of coming to a sudden halt, wheeled off side* ways, and ran, or rather tumbled domi a steep bank by the road side, right into a farmer's kitchen, with the rkler^s arms clasped round his neck. The blind impe- tuosity with which the animal drove on, and the nearness of the house, left him no time to choose, so that rider and horse were both in the man's house before they knew it. Then came the catastrophe, for the pony unable to stop his speed down the bank, not only passed through the door with resistless force, but came full tilt against the " dresser" which stood oppo- site, breaking at a single crash every arti- cle of delph on its shelves, and cottfouiid^. ing man, horse and dishes in one common disaster. The confusion which instantaneously followed wasjamusing. The man*a wife ran out with a child in her armS} screaming m THE LA9J OF THE BEACOM OF ARAHEERA. IW murder .aod robberjr» half a dozen little boysi^Dd gipUran after her yelling, and crying Jbr help, the pony backed out after douig the, mischief, and scampered off to his manger, and the owner of the house made his appearance in his shirt sleeves at the door with a pitch-fork in his hand svji^c^aring all sorts of instant vengeance against the ** murdherin" villain in the kit- f,',)'^@tQp,stop, my good fellow,'' said one of t|ie party on horseback^ wl^o seeinghow matters stood, had dismountsd and arrested the ,, weapon as the fellow flourished it at 4jbj»; door. *f Stop) Uiis:i|S a metie accident, i»y; gppd, wan." , . , ; .j0^ ** Away-T**out ,i' my road," shouted the farmer. ** Stand off and let me at him this minit, or by — — " But here he paused and swallowed the oath, for on looking over his shoulder he fpi^nd himself in the hands of Captain Pe- tfrshiu;ii.*i' . ♦■•gnjgL " I beg yer Ijpnor's pardon, sir," n fM <^p't nor I won't sir ; look at the Mtrack be made, the murdherin villian ; I'll train him tdiis minit* I'll smash " " I^isten tomC) sir." , ^< Flesb< and blood cud'nt stand it* Let me at him.*' ;!'»^ " Stop this instant, or by — I'll horse- whip you within an inch of your life." f^The thievin vagabond, where is he, tiU I melt him.^' " Will you not listen to me, you dog ?" <hime«6ryiiay hi rises." ; J: -; :•i^■, .T'- ''■:••■.■■ •.:,; :,,. ! By this time Captain Petersham succeed- ed in making his way through the kitchen over broken plates and dishes, and there found the hero of the tragedy with his hands thrust down into his breeches pocket, standing in the midst of the ruins he had made. " What's the damage. Major?" said he, shaking up the silver as the Captain ap- proached him, << what's the damage? I'll foot the bill. Good lord, such a coun- try!" he muttered to himself. << Well, the fact is, when this confounded - was agom * there ** Thank you. Just so," interrupted the Captain, << come then. I'll settle all this fiw you to-morrow." Whilst the foregoing colloquy was tak- ing place, ihe owner of the house bad been gradually quieted down by .the Captain's friends outside, and the Captain himself had succeeded in leading Mr« Weeks to the door, where his servant's horse awaited him to mount. As the latter, ashamed and dis- comiited, slowly advanced to the duorand looked up, he felt ** kinder uncomfortable " to use one of his phraces, at seeing so many eyes fixed on him. But the confusion last- id only a moment, for, like his countrymen, Mr. Weeks' recuperative power were al- W&^s at hand, ready when called for. ** Ladies and gentlenAen," said the Cap- tain, by the way of a passing introduction, *» this is Mr. Brake, of Weeksville, Con- necticut, United " " Mf . Weeks, if you please"^ — and the drew forth a card from his silver case, and presented it respectfully to his firiend. << My name, sir, you will perceive, is Weeks, Mr. Ephraim C. B. Weeks, Ducksville^ Connecticut, United States." ** Just so, Mr. Weeks. Excuse roe, my dear fellow; I'm the most confounded blunderer imaginable. Hang it, I'm al- ways bluadering about that name somehow, and can't tell how it happens." CHAPTER XVin* "Never mind th^ name," said one of the ladies oa horseback, ** mount this horse here, and come with us to Castle Gregory/* and the speaker touching^ the spirited ani- mal she rbde on the flank ifilh her riding whip, broke through the crowds and pran- cing up to the door^ stretched out her hand to the American, " come, sir, I've been long wishing to see you ; and now yoa and I must ride together and have a eott io ad- vance of the party «" i <ften heard of her, though. Kin- der smart, ai'nt she 1" " Yes, sometimes — ^when she takes the notion." " She looks sorter smart — ^rides well, I guessl" " Yes f does pretty four at a fbx Jumt.— Like to cross a ditch or two with her, eh 1 You can have any of my horses you please*" " No, I thank you ; I should rather not at present. That's a pretty piece of horse flesh she rides, ai'nt it ?" " Yes, sir ; that's the best mare of ber inches in the province of Uhiter* I'll baek her against any thing of her age and weight in Ireland, for a thousand.'*;;ri>H rv " Should like to own that critter." « Can't sir ; Kate would as soon part with her right hand, as part with * Moll Pitcher.' See how she dances-Tshe>8 mad togetoflf." « What detains >ou, Mr. Weeks 1" cried Kate. " Excuse me for a moment } I'll be with you presently." " Make baste then," exclaimed the Cap- tain, " Kate will be quite offended if | you keep her waiting.'* ' I mo THE LAPY OF THE BEACON OF AAAHEERA. |f 1 ■ " Here ijijr good j^irotnan," ^said Weeks taking a couple of sovereigns from hi, fitiNfl, • and: handing them to the farmer's miftj *^iMr«|j>take these and replenish your slii^li8es**'«^-«.'j-..' 'UiAi ^ouiseem to be in a great hurry to re- rpairi the damage, Mr. Weeks/' observed '-tfa«df^ain«-''.' ' '--i a....: .-...:, ■ iMtini Well I guess it's justasivelliai'nt it?" aij^P^^d-vmnQw had been quite time 'UiMW(^m6rtawl by jingo, I should'nt won^ der if that crazy coon, her husband, urould Umti'-V'iiiy iife before to-morrow. These it^Mttyiteti of yours, Captain, iai'nt to he trusted." i'uni! — <«Jila ! vha |i' ^laughed the Captain. " I see you're not much acquainted with thie disposition of the Irish." 'MMiit 'I though. Bycrackieifl ai'nt -^tbc^y'l^'my ^oirt time amongst them, I don't know who is. Say, mygoodPwoman, ^i'nt you ^ot t hat in the house I could have for a day or so t fly around and see if iyol* tfeii^ftid one." « Mr. Weeks, Mr. Weeks," cried Kate tig^itt^<* lleve i ani waiting for you all this t^e^aHdM^U Pitcher's so restive that I '«n)i hiardly man^e ber.'^ " Never mind the hat," said the Cap- %in;^ dragguijg Weeks by the ai^m — ^<^ never %n1nd it nOWj we'll pick up your own on the road." '"• ! -s .'.^ .':-';.'-i v,.- ^>-. loii <^ Hold' 'On* a secoiid^^hurry up my good \ mMn^^^ etdalinDed Woeke, *«1et;me have iim^Mng toeover my head. Hillo, what's thatt" he demanded As stid handed him- a cap ina^dtt'Ol^hair ^of rabbit skin* ^< Wbat HH ^imd«r is tbfel ' Hai^nt I seen -that l>iufife^i^inwttei*f pttt it Oni"'eried the^Cap- tain, " and let's be off." *^ '> ^ >;. v i*>iwW«it>y tnihii'te— tybat^s this in the bottom of it if? — a letter, by crackie, iftnd ii*«^«VKii8llSkte^P4t©PSh«mtOo;- Why,horw's this?" ..!,r,.'.,, r^.- -|t;r,xi you go forth to bless and bii^daUhea^s ton. gether tilt the light of that Stan shonUiagaihl be absorbed into the source of its lifefottveh more, — how modest your blushing letciB^jaQd! .how timid your noiseless step, asryou? caine out from the darkness of paganisni, ib weifvier your web of love around iheggrt^iteart-oll regenerated humanity. You hadrswion^i^l pers then to fall in milltons at your ^ feel^t but where are they now ? i Alas, akia^aKksi the deserted king of Gree^Je^tliODlciDgi^QiUHl the bay of Salamis for his scattered 6bi]^:i ^'You eount«d tfaem at breakof day^^^ to ; ph'i < But when the sun set where YfeffriiX«^»**jM The goddess of charity whom men ;:woi>-l ship now, child of hea?en, is not ]ike*>-untoi thee. She is bold and proud. > Shis iwaUBSi with stately step, and shunSf Ihe kMy >cft^ii|t on her way to princely halls^ She estrndsf not her hand to the bdptessjn thjeifpiifal|B; thoroughfares in wahtoui «ttire, : siffrouhdedr by followers whom she attracts byntilir splendor of her habittment6,.■ >t i *> \i i .^ Mr. 'Weeks and the other gentlemen of the party, hearing the Captain's wor^s, were instantly excited by a natural curiosity to see what was going on, and alighted also. Uncle Jerry was still intent on his work.' He was rocking a cradle of more than or- dinary proportions, made of course wicker- work, in which the ** three twins" were soundly sleeping. On a Ipw stool beside him lay his pocket haiidkerchief, which he' had t)een using when the Captain first saw him, and which he had only laid down as the party came crovfding round the door. "'Gentlemen," said Kate tufning to her friends and whispering her words lows, "1 beg you will retire. This is no fitting scene for profane eyes like yours to loo^* upon. Away, apd leave the Captain and me to speak to him." They did as directed, and then Kate, motioning the Captain to keep his place, stepped across tne earthern floor of the ca- bin with the lightness of a bird, and stooii behind the watcher. She was about to touch him oi) the shoulder with her finger to make him aware of her presence^ but drew it back again suddenly, sind waited li' minute longer. In that short minyte Uncle Jerry had laid open Ms whole heart to her. She could reao ic plainly as she could read a book. Inserting his hand ipto the linicg of his great seal-skin cap, he drew forth froni a secret pocket, which Mrs. Motherly had failed to discover, a bank of Ireland note, and rolling it up into convenient ishape/ took the hand of one of the orphans and weaved it in between its fingers. As he did so a l>ig tear dropped on the hand, and Unc|e Jerry took up the handkerchief again to wtpe it off. * ; << Hold !" said Kate, " let it remain there. It wilj consecrate the plfering." « Q^d blefs me !" said Mr. Guirkie, loolong MP yi^ hi? eyes still full, <* I thouglit I wan alone.'.' ff And if |[qii ivefie," ceplie^ Katt^ har4n jli mmmi Wi im t ^mmmjmmomm -ie v iii in 'mfi im' A CHRONICJ^E OF INNISHOWEN, 123 1^ Able to restrain ber owo tears, f< theles- 800 would be lost." « What lesson r << That." said she, pointing to the child's hind holcling the money, with the mercy jrop glistening on it. ** Why upon my word and hpnor, Kate," said UqcIo Jerry, wiping his tears, "I don't \aofr how it is, hut the smoke of the peat fire affects my eyes more than it used to tffitpt them — ^perhaps it's because I'm grow- ii^ older." Kate took his hand and pressed it in hers lovingly. << God bless you," she said. *n never see you but Ifeel my heart grows better. If charity ai)d faith ever dwell in human bosom, they are surely to be found io your's and Mary Lee's* But tell me where is father John /" Uncle Jerrv pointed to the room* "Has be finished 1" " Yes — you may go in." Kate opened the door gently, but seeing Father John on his knees by the bedside of his peqit^nt, clqsed it again. << Come in," said the priest, who had turned his head a little, and saw her form as she opened tbe doqr ; " come in Miss Petersham, and as I administer the sacra-: meat of the body and blood of the Re- deemer of the world to this adorable mys? tefy of the Eucharist, to convert you to tl^^ only true and living faith." Kate fell upon her knees and prayp^ fervently* « God of love," said the priest, prostrate ed before the open pix, " if ever I have done aught to deserve a blessing at thy hands, I now implore thee to touch the heart of this erring child. Breathe into her soul the spirit that quickeneth unto life, that she may one day feel how good thou art, and how inestimable a treasure ihe possesses in the sacrament of thy Ipvcr And thou, O Mary, Mother of God, pray for her that she^ may soon bi eak asunder those earthly ties, that hold her back from the arms of the Church qf Christ stretched put to embrace her." He now rose and administered the viati- cum to the dying woman, afterwards t)iQ sacrament of Extreme Unction, and then kneeling pnee more by her bedside, recom- mended her soul fervently to the God whq g^ve it. As he turned to leave the room, Mis| Petersham looked up in his face. Her cheeks were flushed with the emotion of her heart. f' Father," she cried, &t\\\ kneeling before him/'^ Father, give me thy hand,^' and kissing it she placed it on her. head and asked his blessing. He gave it from the depth of his heart. Then Kate rose, and silently accom- panied her two friends tq the door, where the party was impatiently waiting their, coming* The Captain, who had been a silent wit-, ness of the whole scene, touched his cap rer spectfully as the priest appeared, and thei\ silently mounting his horse rode off with his friends to Castle Gregory. CHAPTER XX. f« Mr* Weeks," said Captain Petersham;, after dinner was over and the cloth remov- ed, *' I'm quite delighted to see you at Castle Gregory, and pow as the ladies have left us, we must drink a glass of stout of Inr^ishowen together,— Mr. John-; son shove down tl^e decanter to our Ame- rican friend." « Excuse me, Captain," said Mr. Weeks, " I never drink," «. Nqnsense— you must drink. By George, that's a pretty thing — not drinfe indeed — why you're npt a teetotaller^ arcL your « Well pretty much sq. X'm i^ Wwh-. ingtpnian.'' « Of course you are— I k«ow all that.—. But you don't mean to say that ev^y; Washingtonian's a temperance man f ' "You mistake, I reckon," replie^ Weeks, "A Washingtoaian don't mean ai^ American, exactly, but a^ member of a <:eir- tsiiu temperance society .'*^ 1245 THi: LADY OF THS BEACaN OF AtlAHEEUA. •^ ** Ob> I see — ^that's the meaning of it. So yoir belong to a temperance soticty then ! Well, 'pon ray honor, friend Weeks I had formed a better opinion of you than that."'''-- •'-■•' .!;,'.v.';^, . V-.. '. *^ Don't think it wrong to take a pledge llgainst liqubr, do you?" n .. u .^ .. "No — not perhaps for the wbrldngctaiss- es— but I think no gentleman should take it. If a sense of his position, and respect for his honor, don't restrain a gentleman from brutalizing himself, then I say he's no gantleman, and no pledge or oath can bind him. What think you, Father Johni" " You're right, Captain, except in those rfire instances when gentlemen regard ex- cess as a sin against God, in such cases a pledge may restrain them when their honor ctirt't. Perhaps Pilr. Weeks is one of this dass," ** How — ^regard intoxication as a sin against God /" " Yes — for whicji he will one day hold you responsible." « W^ll, as to that," replied Weeks, « I reckon it depends materially on the kinder nations one has formed oq that ere point. Folks differ, you know, considerable about th^ sorter being God is, and as for my- sdf I canH say I ever got well posted up on the subject. But I always maintain- ed that the abuse of liquor was a sin against society." f.«* Of course — 'there never was a second opinion about it." sit* taTi. '(/** And I always set my face against it on that account." ^ t cP^ ' ' '** Precisely — ^you adopted the prevailing sentiment — for I can call it by no other |»!iifltei--that the abuse of liquor should be discouraged, not because it's offensive to 0od'aiiid^injtirious to the soul, but because it'« ofienSive to isociety — to modest eyes a^d ?^^s polite.^' '' <*iPAther J one of your long ser- mons directly. Mr* Weeks, don't mind him-— he's forever moralizing. Bat fill your glass like an honest man, and drink your national toast — * Success to the 'stars and stripes.'" ** Don't drink, I assure you, Captaiil.-^ Should be most happy to oblige ydu, but it's against my principles." i'l!- Yi w ''- " Against the against iiiAi(n*8j^An« ciples to drink a glass ot punch at ftfrienfM table." • ! '■■■'^''•- -(;! " Don't urge the gentleman," said t#lr or three of the company together— "he h» scruples about it. Every ' ;yt-'Ji: ;. Ktii ,h\'. ■>■■ ** No, no — hold on. Captain ; excuse me^' I'd rather not ; Mr. Johnson will make itw*^ <* Why — ^it seems so strange," exclaimed: the Captain. " Whately, could you have imagined it ; a freeman^ a citizen W the' model republic, and neither Presbyteijf&a nor Quaker, to belong to a temperance so- ciety. Ha, ha, it's monstrous — it. shodes all my American prepossessions." l- ' ; Weeks smiled in his usual cold' way^ and assured the Captain the <> SonsofTem*' perance" were very numerous iff i the Slates; and that for his part he had been strictly temperance since he wqs fifteen years old. h l«ij ,f)>s* " And pray, Mr. Weeks," said the GapU tain,^ filling bis glass fi^om the tum|>ler^ "whnt pleasure or advantage can you derive fromivthis self-denial you practice-*— it's not for your sins, I suspect, eh ?" * ^^ Noj' sir } don't believe in that doc« Irine." ^ it And ^ t)«nr a Why, best, and «'0h, WW* ft Two < tainr "You plied the ' fa a kno {ess to be you, Fat tbewtest o .Father, nothing ii « Well ing to th( the matte years (tl: three hun each yea calculatic cisely fiv dollars e3 tbatasa' calLit&i "Not smiling— very clos «Wel Nathan's 4er. 1 Bigelow "The ing dowi the tabl thanr ftf stand it . " Wl raanded soon 2"! "No ele Jei »ossibl<^ '...¥. Wl Weeks « 01 Captaii jaewJnfjOTWwwpw'^ A CiillONICLE OF INNISIiOWEN 125 f'ff- But fill >n, an<} drink 8 to the stars >> Captain.-^ lige ydo, but hatrfrie&4^ ™," said tw^ should kDbvr can't bear to at my table astelt,*»8a|(f s against nijfr }hnsoo, have oooful dr tfro ^Gaptain,U not a drop I punch. Or make it nrjr- ,' excuse ine^' ill make itw*^ i" exclaimed' d you have itizen^f the Vesbyte^ perance so- —it: shocte .*' iiOrXn coid'wiiy^ >nsofTem^ us in i the '■ '' had bera WQS fifteeo -'^ toif .ftti.' id the Caj^ e tum^ler^ ^ou derive i^Wi mi thatdoc"^ << And why the mischief do you abstain, « Why, because it suits my constitution best, and saves my pocket besides." «0h, that indeed; X understand you iP»W»"'l f (ii.lUHjl ti.j St }"' ^ Two excellent motives, ai'nt they, Cap- tain t" « You. must ask Father Brennan," re- plied the Captain. '' That question invol- ves a knowledge of morals of which I pro- Cess to be entirely ignorant. What say you, Father John, will his motives stand tbe'.test of your theology 1" .Father John shook his head, but said nothing in reply. . « Well look here," pursued Weeks, turn- ing to the priest, " I ai'nt agoin' to dispute the matter now, but just multiply fourteen years (the time I've been temperate) by three hundred and sixty-five dollars saved each year-*-and that's about the lowest calculation I can make — and yoa hate pre- cisely five thousand one hundred and ten dollars exclusive of interest. Now I call that a saving. I may be mistaken, but I call it a. saving." ; lj ^ , " Not a doubt of it," replied the priest, smiling — ^* not a doubt of it — ^you calculate very closely though, don't you ?" "Well) no sir j I merely follow cousin Nathan's advice, and don't waste ray pow- der. X hud a cousin once called Nathan Bigelow " " ITiere 1" ejaculated Uncle Jerry, lay- ing down his glass untasted, and rising from the table, " there ! he's at his cousin Na-. than; again. I vow and declare I can't ^nd.it any longer ^this is the fifth time." . " What's the matter, Mr. Guirkie," de- laanded the Captain, " that you quit us so soon J" , , . :.•„, . . " Nothmg very particular," replied Un-, Jeriiy^ making his way out as fast as possibii^. f*Wl return presently*" '<¥. Well, this cousin of mine," continued Weeks, <* this cousin called Nathan ' , ' " <*Gh, he's t«Ha to tbat,t >« An WeekSi i>.a.ir'tfe A CHRONICLE OF INNlSHOWEN. 127 « Should think so," said Weeks in re- ply ; " it cost me, or father rather, some where in the neighborhood of two hundred dollars." «" genera^ make a trade oi r^^p^ f'^^' where one^jNray or other* I naVe Jijid ^ pretty good evince myself to 8|e l^QW ,0^e t2d TilE LADY OF THE DEACON OF AIlAIinKUA. iltr miiiyM,'titid I reckon T can tell as rnucli about it too as most folks. I3ecn a class- leaJer in my time." .;' Z**^ What !" exclaimed the Captain, lean- ing his folded arms on the table and gazing at the Yankee, bedizened all over ms he was w^th chains and broaches. ** What, a class- lefider-^you Y* ^Yes.** ;. « A Methodist, you mean /" '<* Why certainly." ,;" A canting Methodist?" " Of course." Ml the Lord forgive you, fThe reader is already aware ' «TV4ay Weeks!" ^ of the !Caj)tam's spec iaT contempt for that particular sect.) "'Why you mu&t have .|pst your senses." 1^7 W'ell, they are a kinder scraggy, I al- ^'iir,'' isaid Weeks. .' " Abd you made siich a spooney of your- s^aisio snivel away with this psalm-sing- iique s^t. ' By the Lord Harry, Mr. Weeks JftnoOjghty oil Were a difTcrcut man alto- gether.", ','.'/ '^V;', \.'l^' , ;.' ^^^^ Well, I ai^fcw it Was sorter mean — tfeiivs a fact.. But wait a bit, let me tell you now it happened. I had an object in ^ *' ** Oil, confound your object !" , ,**^ait a mihiite, you'll say it warn't a pa'^' 'one, if the thing had been properly ^anaged. .Well, there was a gal in our Q^i^bboyho'od naiiied Brown, Zepherina iBrowh, 6r Zeph as she was called for short- WM.sake,'*^ ^^ Firtfon me, Mr. Weeks, your glass is empty," said the Captain. " WbateJy, ^ead up the bottle." ^Ij'ii YcliiMl eiiiJse me, Captain." "'<'l^bg your excuses; make a grlass of piincn, sir, like a man." f "," Well I'd rather not just at, present." ''. "^"Sorisense.**'' •^K)-_?»if:f j^uu ,■>*: "'0fm\ii^ lised td it, you Ihiow." " ^ ji^< tjM'tb it ! used to Iniiisho^en ;ky iweity years old ? Are you ^fiew'tallk? Ton my ' honor, sir, I'm whis- used to (( guess it 1 ashamed nf you. If you doirU drink, hf the Loid Harry I'll think yoiPre a Metlio. dist still." " Well, 1 rather t'jiiik I'll be ashamed of myself helm c long, if I hold on at tfiis rate. It begins to wake me up already, I swonnie it Hoes. " I'sliaiigh ! my dear sir, you might drink a puncheon of it. frish whisky's meat, drink, washing and lodging for every hin man being under the sun. Come, send up your f umbler, I'll mix it for you. There'i Madeira and Claret on the sideboard, ani I wouldn't give a brass button for oceans of it, while there's a drop of this reb aoM Irish whisky here to soften my heart. Bj George, sir, if you only drank it for sir niontlis, it wcu!d make a glorious fellow of you." "Ilumpbr said Weeks, would — the wrong way." " No, sir, but the right way. It wouW cure you of that passion you have for spe< culatiiig and money-making. It would make your heart grow twice as big as it is — aye, big enough, by (itiorgc, to take the whole human race into it." " Well, it's a fact," said Weeks, « it does make a feller feel kind of good ; but guess it's not to be trusted too far either, for all that." " Never fear. Weeks, never fear, — ^yoi go on with the story, and I'H mix the punch." CHAPTER XXI. " Well," said Weeks, making another start, *' Zeph lived at a place called Pratt's Corner, five or six miles from Duckaville. She was kinder related to us somehow by the Bigelows, and mother and she were terrible intimate. Zeph used to invite mother to prayer meetings, and mother ia return sent her presents of apple-sass twice a year regular. Well, Zeph, got to be considerable old, you know, kinder wrinkly about the nose, and as a matter of course, pious in wrinkles, i «< Ho ! the wiod I «She twenty th' besides^ day to try apartner affairs, ant necessary er green, liqe, and s three pray ban^, to g « Capit tain. « Whei I shaved < Qpunted z on my hat Pratt's Deacon I against th so'slinkinc eonvepien practice, ; withoi^t s( After the turned hei and siz si] Mr. W« at last am *0,'said drean^y li in the ass< *You'^ « Alas at her agi derer, se( the swam world, bu light batl pure sprii « Exc( tain, wrai and glass by Jove, A. CIIUOMCLE OF IWMSMUWEX. ])jous in proportion — but to balance the wrinkles, Zcph had the cash/' "Ho! ho!" cried the Captain, "did the wind blow from that quarl(;r ]" « She had two saw millH of her own, and tirent/ tboutiand dollars in railroad stock besides^ Well, I made up my mind one da/ to try if I couldn^c induce Zeph to take a partner to help her manage her business affairs, and forthwith set about making the necessary preparations. I felt I was kind- er green, then, you know, in the religious liqe, and so [ thought better attend two or tbree prayer meetings in Ducksville before- hand) to get into the way of it, like." « Capital ! capital !" ejeculated the Cap- tain. " When the day came for my first trial I shared clean as the razor would cut it, iDpunted a black suit, and half yard crape on my hat, and then put my boots for Pratt's Corner. As I entered the room Deacon Lovejoy was holding forth strong against the o)d Pope (his favorite theme) ; so'slinking in with a face as long as I could eonrepiently command, after so short a practice, I took my seat long side of Zeph, without seejfqing to notice who was in it. After the deacon resumed his chair, Zeph turned ber head a leetle mite sideways, and siz she, in ^ low touching voice* < Oh Mr. Weeks, how I do rejoice to see you at last among the servants of the Lord,' ' 0,' said J, looking up in her face kinder dreaniy like, * O how pleasant it is to dwell in the assembly of the faithful — Oh dear — '. * You've been a wanderer,' said Zeph." ** Alas ! alas ! I have, said I, looking up at her again* I've been a poor sinful wan- derer, seeking for the waters of life among the swamps and quagmires of a wicked world, but heaven be praised, the blessed light bath come at last to guide me to the pure spring." " Excellent ! capital !" shouted the Cap- tain, wrapping the table till the tumblers and glasses rang again. <* Ha ! ha ! ba ! by Jove, Weeks, you're a clever fellow. Gentlemen, fill your glasses — fill them up — bumpers let them be — nothing less than binnpcrs. I give you Mr. Weeks and tljf^ si ars and stripes forever." ,, Tlio company rose and drank the toas^ with a hip, hip, hurrah ! and nine times nine, and Katu, no longer able to restrain her curiosity to see^how matters were go- ing on, came tripping in from the drawing room, accompanied by half dozen ladie^i, declaring she could sit no longer among a^ parcel at silly, moping girls, with such good, company in the house. Besides, she Ba^r, ed, ! )oking at Mr. Weeks, " I want to h(|S|['^ a si>ucch. I'm actually dying to hear a s{)cech from a citizen of the great Eepub-r lie," " Gentlemen, please take your seats," ^ said Captain Petersham, "1 see Mr. Weeks is about to speak. As for yoUjla^'J dies, you're a set of saucy, impudent bag^ gages, to intrude upon us here over oup, cups ; away, bundle over there, since, you'^ must stay in spite of us, away, to the oth^ , side of the room, 'and behave yourselv^ij properly." -.'f' "Mr. Weeks, Mr. Weeks, Mr. Weel^,^.^ was Aow heard from all parts of th^ '''^9'^.^> « Ladies and gents," said the latter, nsi.^ ing slowly, and running one hand into ^is ^ vest pocket, while he rested the other on the table j "ladies and gents,! ai'ntagoiQj^ to make a speech, specchmaking's nqt id ^ my line. But I ain't a goin to sit siTenti,, either, when such honor is done to the fla^^, of my country. Ladies gents, I'm an Ame- j rican born, of the true blue Puritan stock,,, a citizen of the model {Republic or.tH*^' world [hear, hear]. I ain't given to hragi-. ,^ gin much, I trust, and besides it don't be-^^, come a foreigner to brag of his country m ' a strange land ; but speaking as this her« ' gent and I were (turning to Father JbhiiTij about religion, I ain't afraid to assert, tnaVj you can't find in all creation, a class jf ' men of more enlarged and liberal tte#fc, * of religion than the merchants and tri|a|r^.,^ of New England, v ,;,,,,,,,,, f30 THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. m <* We are liberal in all things wbere con- sqeoce merely is concerned, and conserva- tire only with a view to preserve order in spcie|:y, that trade may flourish under its proteption. But, ladiesv and gents, what- evei' tends to cripple trade or impede the progress of social advancement ; whether it « a new theory or an .'old theory, a new cre^ or an old creed, we strangle it, la- diesi and gents. We strangle it as the U^atlbeQ& in olden times used to strangle de- formed children. Business men in our coUhtrjr ai'nt so very particular as to dif- fei^enc^ in religious denomination, either. They don't care much whether the croed be Orthodox, Universalist, Episcopalian or BfEtptist, if it only gives tree scope to in- tefiiBct, and a clear track for huinan pro- gress, l^here's but one creed they- object to, aiid that is, (excuse me friend, said the speaker, turning to the priest,) that is the Roihan Catholic. [Hear him ! hear him ! cried Captain Petersham, that's the kind of iailk I like. Hear biiii ! hear him ! cried half a dozen others, following the lead.] Well, tb& fact is, ladies and gents, they caft't go that kinder doctrine no hoiv ; it tighteps them up so they can't move one wa); (Mr. other. The laws and rules of the CalAiolic, Churcli hai'nt got no joints in 'em, you can^t bend 'em no shape or form. Then they |iaye what they call confession, and if one oif tbeir society happens to speculate fiiril^r than he has means to warrant, the priesit bringis hini right chock up for it ; he lutiigot i^p chance to risk anything in the way of trade, DO how he can fix it. Again, if a Catholic happens to find a pock- et-book, iqr instance, with five or six thou- ai^!^ qpilars in it, he must restore it to the owner right off, when, by waiting for twelve mpplibs or so, he might make a few hun- diV^p by tiie use 6t it to start him in busi- ne^'. V Such a creed as that, ladies and ^^1 J^^M^^ American can tPlefate. He wdtji)||[ not deserve the name of a freeman if he (ted. If he question for Americans is, not whether any particular form o religion be young or old, true or false, divine or human ; but whether it suits the genius of the country — that's the question — the on- ly question to decide. Our countrj^ is young, ladies and gents, she has done little more as yet than just begun to develop her resources — the greatest resources of any nation throughout all universal space, and we feel it's our best policy to moderate the rigors of the gospel, to temper it, as it were — well — to make it as little exacting as possible. Hence, our ministers, as a general thing, especially in, cities and large towns, seldom preach about sin, hell, or the ten commandments, or that kinder subjects. Because such themes are calculated to dis- turb and perplex business men, to the inju- ry of trade. And we have long made up our minds that trade must be cared for, whatever else suffers. Yes, ladies and gents," continued the speaker, growin more animated, as the old Innishowen be- gan to warm up his blood, " our country is bound to go ahead of every other country in creation. Excuse me, ladies and gents, for speaking my sentiments right out on the subject, but they are my sentiments and the sentiments of every native-born Ame- rican in the United States." "Bravo, bravo. Weeks!" cried the Captain ; his fat sides shaking as he clap- ped his hands. « Bravo— that's the talk." "Yes," continued Weeks, "I'm a Yan- kee, and them sentiments are true blue Yankee sentiments. We ai'nt a goin to be fettered by any form of religion under the sun ; if it don't encourage trade and commerce it don't suit us — that's the whole amount of it. Had the United States hung on to the old worn out creeds of Europe, what should our people be novr — perhaps in no better condition than you yourselves, ladies and gents, are at this present moment.'. " That's cool," said some one in an un- der tone. " tt's a fact, nevertheless," said Weeks, catching the words. " The antiquated re- ligion of like a str ing its en Had we trammels should w so intellif nation ? have flui and Jaid head as our left sessions, take troi I ask, (lone tha «Hur rious! c{ «I do continue ticular r< creed is ty of ma tliicknes£ stand on Still, I i ligious hoases, reading things i courage and like go no (turning er of C teWigent ours, sh by the s he inter them as the stal With ladies s — ^we i prospei part hi Nothit moral / W^lj'STVWPSf*^''''' ■" ■" *''ff^*TW< A CHRONICLE OF INNISHOWEN. 131 e in m un- ligion of our grandfathers would have acted Kbe a straight-jacket on the nation, cramp- ing its energies and stinting its growth. — Had we not shaken ourselves free from the trammels both of pilgrim and priestly rules, should wc have become in so short a period so intelligent, enterprising and powerful a nation ? Yes, ladies and gents, could we have flung our right arm across the Gulf and laid hold of Mexico by the hair of the head as we do now, and be ready to extend our left over your British American pos- sessions, at any day or hour we please to take trouble, and sweep them into our lap ? I ask, ladies and gents, could we have (lone that .?" " Hurrah !" shouted the Captain — ^''glo- rious ! capital !" « I don't profess, ladies and gents," still continued Weeks, " to belong to any par- ticular religious denomination myself. My creed is * a first cause and the perfectibili- ty of man/ — that's the length, breadth and thickness of my religious belief, and I stand on that platform firm and flat-footed. Still, I go in for three things in the reli- ligious line as strong as any man, alms- houses, observance of the Sabbath, and reading the Bible. These are excellent things in their way, and ought to be en- couraged by every man who loves order and likes to see trade flourish. But I can go no further J I can never believe, sir (turning again to the priest), that the found- er of Christianity intended a nation so in- telligent, so intellectual, and so .civilized as ours, should be bound down hand and foot by the strict rules of the gospel. No, sir, he intended we should moderate and adapt them as far as possible to the interests of the state and the requirements of society. With these ideas and these principles, ladies and gents, we are bound to go ahead — we must go ahead — we can't help it — prosperity forces itself upon us — we on our part have only * to clear the track' for it. Nothing can stop our course — no obstacle, moral or physical, on earth or air, on sea or land. Yes, our energies are immense and must be expended. Ladies and gents, were it necessary to bore the earth through, we should do it. Yes, by crackle, tunnel almighty creation to find an outlet for our resources." " Glorious ! glorious !" shouted the Cap** tain, " hurrah ! for the stars and stripes !« Well done. Weeks — bravo ! bravo ! my boy." And " bravo ! bravo !" echoed from' all parts of ihe room, even the ladies stood up and waved their pocket handkerchiefs, in the midst of this general acclamation, how- ever, and just as Mr. V/eeks had hitched up his shoulders for another start, a loud piercing shriek came from the entrance-hall,^ which startled and silenced the noisy com- pany in an instant. « What the fury is that 1" demanded the Captain. " Ho, there James, Thomas-— go instantly and see what it means." Kate rushed to the door, followed by the other ladies, curious to learn what had hap- pened, and the gentlemen, fearing somese^ rious accident had occurred, darted out pell-mell ofter them. " Who the mischief are you?" growled Captain Petersham, grasping a tall, grave*^^ looking man by the arm, as he hurried out from the parlor. " Who the mischief are you, fellow 1" " Pardon me, sir," replied the stranger ' in the mildest manner possible, " my naatii^^ is Swcetsoul. I came w^lh " ■•-'f »* Who ! what ! the colporteur I the Me- thodist bible-reader?" " The same, sir." ** And what the deuse then do yoii want here?" " Excuse me, sir, I ^" " I shan't excuse you, sir ; you have ntt ' business in my house, you canting rascal | ' out of it instantly." " But the lady there, sir." *' Lady ! what lady ? eh, who is this V again demanded the Captain, bustling into ' group which had now gathered round 132 THE LApy OP THE BEACON OP ARAHEERA. some female in distress. " Hijsh ! hush ! brother Tom," said Kate, catching him hy the button-hole and whispering in bis ear, ^' that's Baby Deb." " Yes, yes, I know all that— well 1" " The instant the man delivered the mesi sage, she started off as quickly as if ." ^*Yes, of- course — I understand yuuj well ?" " IJer holy zeal, you know " " Never mind her zeal. What the fury have I to do with her zeal — excuse me, . Miss Ilardwrinkle, but can't you tell me how she was carried off^" " Oh dear I you hurry me so — and then I'm almost dead with the fright." " Listen to me — did you see her carried off?" "See her?" " Yes, yes, did you actually see her?" " With my owq eyes." " Then Jimo was she carried off?" << Behind a man ! Oh dear ! oh dear !" " Behind a man?" " Yes ; on — a — on — a — " Here De- borah tried to blush and cover her fao(3. ^' Confound it, on what ?" cried the Cap- tain, losing patience altogether. " Can't you speak at once if you wish me to take measures for your sister's recovery. How did he carry her off?'-' " On a — on a — oh dear, on a pilljon J be-' hind him." '" Phew ! on a pillion ! Ha ! ha ! By the Lord Harry, that was a sight." " It was shocking — in broad day light too," << It was villainous," said the Captain, endeavoring tp smother a laugh — ^^ most atrocious ! to carry such a saintly young lady, and one so reserved in all her habits of life, through the open pountry in broad day light, on a pjlliop. S'deatb, the scoundrel should be hung for it." " And oh, Captain," sa|d Deborah, " I can never forget the terrific shriek she gave, as she flew past me behind the inhu- man wretch. It still rings in my ears — it was heart-rending." " Who could have played this trick, Kate ?" said the Captain, turning to bis sister — ** eh — what does it mean t—I don't A CHRONICLE dF iNMISl^oWi:^ m —well V sred the uies^ ■ as if ,'» srstaod yquj '^hat the furjr hexcuse me, you tell mi 3 — and then It." : her carried / see hert" 1 off;" ! oh dear !** Here De- her fao^. ied ihe Cap- r. " Can't me to take ^ery. How i pillion I be^ ba! By the i day light le Captain, gh — ** most iutly young her habits y in broad death, the iborah, "I ■ shriek she d the inhu- y ears — it this trick, ning to his ?-^I don't , faderistanil it exactly." i « Arid how can 1 1" replied Kate, hold- ilig her head down and covering her face with her handkerchief, " how can I, if ybu don'i?" « Kate." "What?" « Look up at me." « ThA-e— What's the matter 1" "This is some of your devilry." "Of mine?" "Of yours. Come, come, no evasion iiow, you're in the plot, whatever it is, as surfe as your name's Kate Petersham- It's fexactly like you — you need'nt try to look serioUs." « Why, brother Tom 1" " Psaugh — brother Tom — that won't do Kate. 1 vow to heaven, you're the most mischievous — but stop, wait a minute," he exclaimed, as a sudden thought seemed to itrike him. ' " Miss Hardwrinkle," said he, again ap- proaching the afflicted young lady, " Miss Hardwrinkle, do you remember to have seen the man before." in^ him f< What, the wretch who 1" " Yes — have you any recollection of see- before T " !^o ; for I could see nothing but his form, he flew by so fast, and besides he kept whipping the wretched animal so dread- fully all the time." " He, he, he," chuckled Uncle Jerry to himself all alone on the sofa, " it must have been an amusing sight. He, he, should like to have seen it." " You're a barbarous man," said Kate, overhearing the words as she passed her by — *^ you're a barbarous man to wish any such thing." " Oh you young trickter," exclaimed Un- cle Jerry, as she turned back her laughing eyes upon him ; ^Hhe plot is of your making ti sure Sis the sun." - "What think you was jhe color of his clothes 1" again enquired the Captainr— "oi did you see any thing remarkable in his form or appearance ?'' " Nothmg— I could see nothing distmct* ly, except that he wore a cap." " A cap^^ — what kind of cap ?" eagerly demanded the Captain, " black, or bluoj or glazed f " No. I rather think," replied Deborah, ** it was a sort of fur cap ; it looked rough rather, and somewhat high in the crown.' "Whitish?" I " Yes. It seemed to be something like d hare or rabbit skin cap." " That's enough," exclaimed the Cap* tain, " that's enough ; I know the villian, I know him— I suspected him from the be* ginning ; he's the most daring, impudent, reckless rascal, that, in all Christendom." " Who is he — who is he ?" demanded half a dozen together. "Lanty Hanlon, of coursa," promptly replied the Captain, " who else could it be ? no man but Lanty in the three baronies would dare play such a trick." " Lanty Hanlon," screamed Baby Deb^ in semi-hysterics. " Don't be alarmed," said the Captain^ " your sister's in safe hands." " Oh, no, no. Captain, he'll murder her.'* " Not he, nor hurt a hair of her head, either." " That is, if she have any," said Uncle Jerry in a»whisper, as he brushed by the Captain j " he, he, if she have any." " Why, you surely mistake, Captain," said several of the company. ^* Lantj Hanlon's the most notorious robber and wrangler in the neighborhood*" " I can show you a wound he gave me here in my head. Captain," said the colpor- teur, sneaking into the room. " What, you. Out of my house, you scurvy vagabond," cried the burly Captain, collaring the bible-reader, and sending him head-foremost from the room. " Ho there, fellows, James, I'homas, bundle out that snivelling rascal. By the Lord Harry, if he comes in my sight again I'll horsewhip him." " lU THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. *' Well, but Captain, you must be mis- taken about this Hanlon," said one, " it was he that beat my game-keeper." . " It was the same fellow robbed my sal- mon box," said another. " It was that very vagabond, poached on my premises/' said a third. " Yes, and by crackie, it was that tarna- tion villian drugged me first with poteen whisky, and then danced me almost to death," put in Wieeks. " He's the most provoking rascal too I ever met, for he keeps as cool as a cucumber all the while." .4 >* Gentlemen," said the Captain, " you inay say what you please of Lanty Hanlon — r«nd think what you please, too, but I know him better than the whole kit of you put together, and by the Lord Harry he's one of the best specimens of his class I ever saw. He's an honest-hearted, reckless, rollicking, light-hearted Irishman, who likes his bit of fun as well as the rest of us, and will have it if he can, but tell me the man ever knew Lanfy to do a mean thing. He may have speared your salmon, and idiot your, game, and broken your baililTb' heads, but where's the harm in that. Can you call it a crime to kill the trout that swims in the mountain brooks, or the black cock that feeds on the mountain heather. What right have you to forbid a man to •atch the trout that jumps in 4he stream before his own door, or kill the game that feeds on his own pasture. May the devil take such game laws, say I, and may the man that respects them never know the taste of a white trout at breakfast, or a black cock at supper. As for you, Mr. W^eks, you must have said or done some- thing to provoke Lanty, or he never had put you through the coarse hackle as he did. Besides, you did'nt matriculate here yet, you're gjreen in the country." << Grektleman wishes to see Mr. Weeks," said a servant, interrupting the speaker. Mr^ Weeks followed, and was conducted to the breakfast parlor. As the door open- ed the visitor advanced to meet him, with an open letter in his band. < ' ed the light- Mr. Weeb, ited Weeks, i^ed that let- nj post office id you write )le?" ' yours, sir 1'* ; what's the Lit out about light-keeper, f^ay or other )tes of hand j know of the as it tlirough u discovered le black foot Miss Lee, ioon as you attorney to ;bt, ^nd now jee receives als of niar- r bankers of Wh- ioa it r» B her, sir — lods." 'ii has play- latioD seize d you not 3dy with a irry, you P Veeia, tS" BStiOB. i the light- keeper 'j '' I have no time to spare." . «Look here, friend, I ai'nt agoia to be catechized this fashion." , « Catechized — by all the gods in Olym- pus, I'll catechize you, ray fine fellow, and the right way, too. Your villainy's dis- covered at last. Else Curley has revealed to me all your plots and schemes." , f< You need'nt get into such a fuss about it, my dear fellow," said Weeks, quite coolly ^ <clore I left this room to apologize for the insult you have offered— but cox- R comb and a coward as you are, I let JM pass." ■ :>'>::nr << Coward — guess you're mistakeD, ai'^t youl" replied Weeks, shoving bis jiaa^ down into his breeches pockets and i\ite|)||g up his shoulders. ' .> ,!•;<;.,■ << You're a disgrace, sir, to the aaime ,ef America," continued the lieht-j^ffeper^ without noticing the reply. ** xouprcoui^ try is a noble country, sir; your her9^, |i)f the revolution rank among the firsl^'fti^^^ of the world ; your orators and jitatmoMB have already eclipsed some of the mnKt^f^le* brities of Europe; your people in thef|Aa|jii^ are a high minded, generous people; 1^ you, sir, and such sneaking rascal^ 9^,}i6iif with your godless liberalism, and yoiir, aar tional vanity, are enough to bring yeiur country into contempt wherever you fot. I have loved America ever since I wajiajue to lisp the name, but ii you be a fair specif men of your countrymen, I would rather ^ a dog than an American. If you be it Yankee, the New Englanders must IiaTt sadly degenerated since the revolution.-^ Go, go!" « Well," isaid Weeks, " can?t say as to that, bu$ I rather guess they're a leet^ ahead of the Irish as yet." " Yes, in vending hi<*.kory,hams and wood- en nutmegs they may be somewhat sma^er* I suppose. But smartness without, ei^p«pr honor or principle is a poor reconimeiii^ tion. Go home, sir, go home aniii, |W|i^ tell your countrymeU, that class ojf|l^eiii,i|^ least that you belong, to t^thuck8t^9lja speculators are less respected per^ hi Aiirm for their smartness than despised for tfit^ love of gold. Tell them yqufaiied in yi;^«i^ speculations in matrimony and tobfte^o^, to- cause you relied too much on .your ewpi cunning, and valued too lightly tbie elwiiCf ter of the people on whose siniipliei^ /9H came to practice. Tell |tbem yo^ aaif m Ireland a poor man proud— ^hankirapl in every thing but honor— who ^dueed ip beggary and a jail, would ratoet see bia chud mated with the poorest peasant oftkil m THE LADY OP THE BEACON OP ARAHEERA. tMitivJB'' btllsy' than give her to a peddling, speculating foreigner, with a hundred thou- hlM ddlM^. ' Then, sir," he added, fiiog- f^lt'YWrettei'iii Weeks' face, *^ take back )fatti^^>^i((^ 'pi^dplosal and be gone; I came ifith'a brace of pistols here in mj breast, ^ IfUHiiMt the sati^fketion due from one ^JitR^^ t^ another^ but you're too con- Ifttti^iM^'' a scoundrel to stnell an honest ki^% 'fWiw^rij" and so saying, the light- fiS^fltitig on Ids tilouched hat and left -'" W^l^'sf ^ba fan ^hree minutes gaaing tfi^'ffi^'jfoor thi-dugh Which the light-keeper j6ysscdj ifi^hottt mbving a muscle — his hands Wiam dirieist into his pockets. He seem- <^ ^tfi|>letel7 confounded at what had «ftifen'«fece. ' "Well, there," he ejaculat- •^at'^V^M, thro^ihg binK^eif down in an ^'ihWr'aildfekingtiuthis penknife he D^W W'Whittl^ a sinall mahogany rule that WM^'Wrn on the table, apparently ...Joiit ttie' least coiisciousness of what he mm0iit, «''eh6i'e-^that»s'the end of it, 1 mliiitir' 'Hiiibpli'! Wen, ]\ir. G. B. Weeks, I sorter think you ought to feel kinder i^g8piii%lf1 four hunaffed ddllars lost for mm iai'kUt^s, ahd fite hundred more far worthless paper— hirie hundred dollars "■^^fobMMothebiitfgain. Go it, go *»J W bby~thkt»s the Way to make a for- "• Woiitf bf tKc mtirittt mh. Well, I'm ^ii*«i:;^*Uijii's*a ftcti-a terriation ugly fit, -j6.'''#i EWfe-barley, butof h-11 there*8 ^<^iililii Wipi inVoii— I reckoned I was mi^MmM^ni but I guess you're a m^Hr^iPi^ tSdi^t^'r. Humph ! of some Wk^lbmmeti;^ girl has deceived Wi m; ^uftii^ 6ii^ Tkball^d myself at the leaffia?:^ ^Anatttere^s that dAmed cabin ^-^y%r'™'I might get aloiig dick VettWt^^y ^t the Ught- _^.. MBfiil^cou^^ Robert arid leould %siMeW Ma^ ^ y*"" 8^ P*'*«" <«PatB «yer m»tther1 «Notl here— 'I must'nt gowis M Bett "You *' SuriB fast. H ft), an hi! wThai girl, wit! Wrt» gin woi have sav home an Else?" « Hoi ( a fhipf; m the iigi I low stMl sd^ knittiiig the latter, le she set* u « tVhBt <«Fala!amIpaler <-*wbat's the Bttttherl" f< Nothing. But come into my room here— rl have something to ask you. We must'at disturb our little patient^ you know. goi7ishe,£;iser « Better." "Your sure?" « Sure as can be, dear— he's recoverin fast. He got tbie * coal' (crisis) this morn- 1)1, an his pult's greater now." ^^ Thank God,'' exclaimed the grateful girl, with all the fervor of her pure loving heirt* '^ O, J knew well the Blessed Vir- gin Would'nt forget him. Uer prayers have saved him. Poor fellow, he'll see home and friends once moie* Won't he, lilsef" « Hope 80."v « But Else!" «What?" <' You have a secret for me." f< A secret!" ^f Yes; I saw it in Miss Fetersbam'is fice, and I see it now in yours. You need'nt try to keep it from me, Else, Ean- dall Barry's taken." << BAudall Barry — what in the world pui: that in your head t" said Else, evasively. << Oh Else, Else," sobbed the simple hearted girl, dropping on her knees, and hiding her face in her old nurse's lap, " I know well he's taken." « Whisht, don't cry,asthore," said Else, smoothing down the disheveled tresses of her lovely protege with her hard bony fin- gers, while the muscles of her own face twitched with emotion — ^^ whisht now, don't cry, dear." "I can't help it, Else— don't blame me," <,..i> ;!•■,-,; << Yes; but Else, dear,,heikMw;ittW||^|ki from my heart," replied Mary^ wifth aU l^i simplicity of a child. "I told him) «fi«Ai and often, how my uncle loved me^ andbojii^ it would break his heart to leave him— fand how little I knew of the world, and .hffiVi poor a companion I would be for one ;likoi him — I told him all this many and manfj 9ii time. Else, and begged him to returuhMOkfl to the South, and wait for better and ha|»t< pier days — ^but he knew my heart was^At^ in my words. Oh he knOw it Else^ as v\^|i as I knew it myself." .»,.»•( "God love yer innocent heart/?o;i^Ti claimed Else, while her old eyes filktd iritll tears, " God love ye dear, yer too gooA^CoTi this world." .nvaiii ,> '\u ^.im\[i "Had I only pray'ed &rveiitty toidkid for strength," continued Mary, )ff,il. nMcii have overcome my weakness. Bttt A»i Else, I'm so selfish I Vra§ thinUngi vAf'.f^ his love for me, all the time, wheoXahbfM have thought of nothing but hi» ni^y<^ And he's a prisoner on my acboiinty mik shackles on his limbs^ and the doom j»l 1^ rebel before him* Oh if I had onlypari^ with him forever the last time he clattllMeviBft up these rocks to see me'^— 'I. i lo s,ic«|?. "And if ye had," said Else> « ye'4 hftlfft nothing for it. Ye were both iati»ded |«|^ one another, and for that Iraisoit je,iiiiit cud part with him. So rise up now, ^A don't cry, all 'ill be well fiV\\',uuh flHT <( O Randall Barry, Randall Barr}^i«^ brave — so faithful — so true to his i^nli^ and to Bie," murmured Mtiry- ^^JPlftfJ Else, could I see him free OBice;i)io^«^fi^Qr0 it only for an instant, I would^hidJiiialu^ well forever, should tny^ beart break in tbi parting." ■;.;^M.-:^>:;^?i There was a sense of desolation jH^^ words or: the tdneil oC l\Iai7'«rroifii that touched the old woin|ianudeAply;> itci jdw stooped and kissed ^e iSBatm girlTaf^hieek several times as she gave ventstOiMQiMrii guisb. But when she sfoke of he8Etli1»ak« ia« THE LADT Of THB BSACOM OF ARAHEERA. i ihg, the inj idea seemed to reall back i again into life the better and holier feelings orbar natore, and to control the emotion that acitated her soul, she flung her arms araund the neck of her foster child and wept over her like a mother. naked breast, and looked doini on the face of her foster-child. *^ Mary Lee," she said, her voice husky with the passion she strove in vain to conceal, " Mary Lee, yeur tears baulk- ed me of my vengeance twict before — take care they don't a third time, for I swear by—" << Hush ! hush ! Else," interrupted her fair protege, holding up the golden crucifix tb^^t hung suspended from her neck, end laying her forefinger on the lips of the figure. *^ Hush ! these lips never spoke bdt to bless." ,. • " Take it away, girl ; take it away," ex* claimed Else, averting her eyes from the image as if she feared to look upon it lest her courage should fail, <' take it away, and listen to me. I'm bound by a vow made at the siege of Madeira, by the side of my dead husband, niver to forget what Lieute- nant Richard Barry did for me that day. Randall Barry is that man's grandson, and he lies prisiner in Taurny Barracks through the treachery of Robert Hardwrinkle.-**^ The time is now come to fulfil my promise, and I'll do it ; I'll save Randall Barry, should I lose body an^ souluin..the at- j> >n-{?i«i if., T'-v T ?tf •arn-Ji; tempt <Iden crucifix !r neck, end e lips of the 'er spoke bdt i away," ei» Bs from the ipon it lest it away, and row made at side of my hat Lieute- ie that day. undson, and icks through dwrinkie.-r^ my promise, idall Barry, d .the 'at- said Mary, avea above i « I knew no God these thirty years ;" and 18 she spoke she wrested Mary's hands from her cloak, and caught the handle oi the door, ** let the villian look to himself BOW," she cried, " let him and them that brought my only sister to shame an an ear- ly grave, that driv my brother from his father's hearthstone to die among the strangers, that hunted myself like the brock through the crapfgs iv Benraven — hah — let them luck to themselves now, for as hea- ven's above me, if Randall Barry's not a freeman in four and twenty hours, their roof tree smokes for it. Ay — my own ottid bones and theirs 'ill burn in the same Ware." « Else, stop for a moment.'? <* Away, girl." << Else, Else," entreated Mary, again at- tempting to detain her. *^ Would you com- init murder-r-deliberate murder ?" << Murder! is it murdher to burn a nest of vipers 1" ** Else, think for a moment. You have an immortal soul to be saved." *if Me ! I have no soul. I lost it thirty years ago — ^let lAe pass." « Listen to me." ** No, no, no ; 1 have listened to you too long— away!" ** Grant me but one favor. It may be the last I shall ever ask — for T fear, Else, we must soon fly from this place, and then lean never hope to see youmore put him to death : think how he forgave Magda- len and the penitent thief." : ' ' '^ "Child," said Elsej with a«nrle tliat made Mary shudder, it expressed so plainly the depth of her despair; "child, yott speak f^ing her gray elf locks, gave her the look ' only of sinners, but I'm a devil.'' IM THE JJLDY OV THE BEACON OP ARAHEERA. **'So, BO, clon't tmile and speak to me 90) jon aro not — ^you are not,*' cried Mary, «Ikif lag to her old nurse's neck, ** you never could love as you love me and be so wick- ed. Oh never speak those awful words again, Else, they terrify me. No, no, you «ro not so wicked. You are not lost, tM friend of the poor orphan can never be l«lt." As Mary was yet speaking, a knock ftUme, and dodger O'Sbaughnessy present- ed himself at the door. He had been en- gaged, it would seem, burnishing up the old silver salver, for he held the precious relic imdef his arm, and had pushed the shamois leather, with which he had been rubbing it, into the breastpocket of his old bottle green 0tttt. <* What now, Rodger ?" inquired Mary f* has Mr. Lee returned f " '** Not y^t, plaze your ladyship," replied Rodger, bowing respectfully. ''Oh, it's only Else Curley," be added, correcting l^imiself ; ** I thought you had company. — No be's not come back yet, and I wish he ivias, for there's strangers coming down the jroad here to the light-house, and not as ynnch ai) a bit or a sup in the house fit to oner them . I wish to goodness they'd stay jrtboiine." "Never mind, Rodger, receive them at tl]te idoor, and show them into the parlor." 'f Indeed then I wpnt," replied Rodger j a they'll have to find the way themselves ; and if they're any of the master's acquain- tances you know, they'll not expect any thingf 'bem ! if you only hint, ahem ! that the butler's not at home." ;.«♦ Very well, Rodger, do as you please." » 4nd now," said Mary, turning to Else, ^ yoii promise to tell these beads to-night -under the invocation of the Blessed Virgin. Po you promise ?" M Ay, I'M say them to plaac ye," replied Pse, " but it's of Uttle valie they'll be, for i bav'nt bent a knee to God since before ^ou w0re born. " No matter^' said Mary, « God is mer- ciful. He has converted worse hearts th«i yours. Say your prayers toonigbt, Else, and who knows but the old rosary, once ^ familiar to your touch, with God's goo4 grace, may awaken those better and nobler feelings which so long have tain dormant in your heart." << God be with ye, Mary," said Elu, tenderly kissing the forehead of the gentla girl. <™3»t?'««*!«-P^efB!W=WJM^w»«^ ■■> '<6odiatter. M beartathvi o-night, Else, Dsary, once t God's goo4 ter and nobi«r lain dormant »" said Ekt) of the gentlt 'd know wbal comes to thi dear nuna^ in your soul the sins that lerous as the and remem- f»>«}Bad at I prmiae jeif of BenraTfl her shovlden to the littla il asleep, but ached a wia< iron bridge rom it to tbi pected to see ad announced had alreadf e light-house was the onlf back to the lie, who had de the gate, rptting f(Ctar I, I the Gain, to find the open and the ire and there, learchingtiw A CHROMICLB OF INNISHOWEN Ul boose. Lightinfif a rash candle without fcrlher delay, and inserting it in the wood- en candlestick attached to her spinning wheel, she threw off her gray cloak and took a hasty survey of the room. Her first glance was at the hearthstone under frliiob Randall Barry had so mysteriously disappeared, when Nannie's blate an- neoneed the presence of Hardwrinkle's de- tectives — ^the second at the cupboard, con- oealed in the tickness of the wall, from frUch she furnished the widgeon and wine to her young friend before setting out on his perilous journey to Arranmore. Both hoirever, had escaped discovery — at least there was no visible mark of their having been suspected or examined. Satisfied ap- parently with these observations. Else drew over her creepie-stool, and sat down to build a fire for the night. Hardly had she touched the tongs, however, for that fQrpeee, when a piece of closely folded pa- per fell from them on the ashes. << Humph!" ejaculated the old woman, picking it up, ** what can this he ? From Lanty, I'll warrant — it's lake his contrivin, to put it into the joint o' the tongs," and hitching Over the creepie nearer to the wheel, she brought the piece of crumpled ^per close to the dim light, and read as iWlows:*^ Hf'Ocb! thin, sweet bad luck to ye, my onld darliat ; isn't this the party pickle ye gO't^me into. The hole country's out after li», and here I am waitin for ye this half hdur, with Miss Hardwrinkle sighin and sohbm on the pillion at yer doore. Upon m^ conscience it's hung ye ought to be, to thrate me this way afther all the promiises je made to stay at home. But niver mind, nMclidty I'll be even with ye yit, Else, if I only live to get over the amf^usb I'm in. Pf coorse Vm expectin to be shot every ether mibit, for the polls is afther me ih all dilre£sbin». As tor the damsel hersel, O Aterm^ / mortiol ears niver heerd the bate ofherr Her schreechin broughlt out i very livih soul atween here and Ballymagahey . She'd listen naither to rime or raison. ' I tried to soothe her, but ye might as well try to soother a weazel. Bad scran to thtf haporth she did but squeel and spit at m# all the time. Thin I tried to raison with her. I tould her I hadn't the laste bad intintion in life, it bein only the loan of her I was takin in a dacent way, till a friend of mine got over his throuble. That mad* her worse. She wouldn't even stop to lis- ten to me. Bad luck luck to me, Ebe, if iver I met so onraisooable a female aioee the hour I was bom. Atween scriplhur and schreechin she has nearly drive* nt out of my senses. Hovld I whisht f thtrt, by all that's bad she's at it again a« hard m ivir. Oh heaven forgive ye, Else Cmrky, for the throuble I'm in on your account this blissed day. But I can't stay another minit— I'm off again over the mountain, and remimber if any thing happens me,ye'H find her ladyship at Molshin Kelly s of Carlinmore. No more at present, bvt re- main your obedient. « Laktt HaNtoN." " Note bene* As ye Valie yer life, keep close to Mary." << Hegh !" ejaculated Else, as she threw the scroll on the ashes again. *< Heghil but I'm sorry I didn't get ahooH tf ye, ye spawn of the sarpint. Hah, I'd tacheyea lesson ye'd remimber till the clay covered! ye. Little ye thought utHo was watchia ye this mornin, when ye went to Ballyma- gahey with yer tracts. Little J€ thought who the ould woman was that pass(>d for the three twins — the poor desarted eratfaWf* that's dyin with the curse of herself ana her dead husband on yer back.* Hah ! hah 1 Eandall Barry, ye'll not have so many pon- stables to guard ye the morrow, while siicl^ a high bred dame as Rebecca Hardwrin^ kle's to be sdught and found. Ay, Robert, ye'il want more peelers than ye can spare^ to guard your prisoner, or I'm far out of my reckonin. Hah, devil as ye are, ye have yer match fbr onct. And now do yer best, ye black-hearted villian, do yer best, U2 THE LADT OF THE BEACON OF ABAHEERA. " 'ill u and niiver fear ivery time je play the nave 1*11 strike with the five-iingeri." Else was here interrupted in her soliloquy by the approach of footsteps, and turning in her creepie seemed somewhat surprised to see the tall but stooping form of Rodger O'Shaughnessy entering the cabin. ••<'< Humph ! what nowl" she demanded, ^ any thing wrong at the light-house, that yer here so soon ?" ** No, notbin to speak of," replied Rod- ger, familiarly taking a seat, and stroking down the few gray hairs that remained, with the palms of his hands. ** Nothin new that J know of-— only the wine's all out, and there's no change in the house at present .to buy more." «*».<< Hush," said Else, "that's the ould story over again." rj,.« So I thought," continued Rodger, <^I?d step up at my leisure to Mr. Guirkie's, and see if he'd buy this picthur. If it brought only a couple of pounds atself you kaow, we might lay in a dozen or two of chape wine — cape Madeira or so, to keep up the credit of the place." As Rodger spoke he drew from beneath his coat a small oil painting, and laid it on the table beside him. ■.J i " What in the name of patience is this ?" exclaimed Else, after she took it up and looked at it. "Why ye must be mad, Rodger ; it's her mother's portrait." "^u^ I know," replied Rodger, " but ahem ! it's only a copy." " Copy or not, ye can't sell it. Mary would niver forgive ye." " We can't starve," said Rodger, apolo- getically. • . "Starve!" "Of course, when there's nothing left. !rhere's the salt meat " ** Hoot, nonsense, yer always complain- m. n << Bedad, then, may be I've raison enough to complain, vrhen the bacon's all gone, and i^ot as luuch as the smell of wme or whis- ky in the walls of tbe^ house. It's aisy for you to talk. Else, bnt if ye had the .eredit o' the family to maintain, and nothio to maintain it with " " Yer not so bad off as that, Rodger, i|. together, eh, have ye nothio at all left after the bacon ?" " Nothin to speak of. There's soqii chickens, to be sure but — — ." " Some chickens. Is there no sheepr "Ahem ! sheep ; well, there's three weeny wethers, but sure ther's not a bit on thtjx bones. Surely three poor weakly wetbm is a small dependence through the 1oq| winter. As for the bits o' picthurs, tk poor child could do nothmg at them li^e that weary cabin boy came ; and in trotbJt went hard enough on me, Else, to see tiw young creature workin away, from morQJQ till night, unbeknown to her uncle, tryia to earn with her brush what'd buy little neeei- saries for the bouse, when she ought to \tt roulin in her coach with her footmen bf- hind her. Och hoch ! Else, it's a poor jiy whin I'm driven to make lyin excuses to sich gentry as the Johnstons and Whately, in regard to the house. God be good to us, it's little I thought forty years, when I ust to announce Lady Lambton and Lord Hammersly, and Marquis " " Now stop, Rodger Shaughnessy — stop yer claqerin," interrupted Else, lighting her pipe, " yer niver done braggin about yer lords and ladies." , , " Ahem ! braggin — bedad, it's no brig* gin. Else, but the trutb^ and not the wboli o' that either, let me tell yo. Ahem (may be, when I ust to get seventeen pipes o' the best wine ^" " Hoot, hould yer tongue. Here, tslw a draw o' this till I make some supper. I have a journey afore me, and I can't dekiy aminit longer." " Well, you may think as ye plaze. Else," said Roger, taking the pipe from his venerable companion, ** bMt thev're changed times with us any way, when tqem that onct thought a castle too sqall to re saive their eompany, must now starve ' re-i w4 ^mtf^Wav'i^mm'i^Virirfi^tSfSgr^vup A CHRONICLE OF INNISHOWEN U3 bad the .eredit and notbio to ,t, Rodger, it at all left after There's mim re no sheep r* t's three wee^j a bit on th^ weakly wethm )ugh the long ' picthurs, Oi at them sii^e and in trotbJt se, to see tlw , from mornia uncle, tryio to ay little neeen le ought to be sr footmen b^ it's apoordiy yin excuses to and Whately, d be good to years, when I ton and Lord ghnessy — stop se, lighting her ;gin about jtx , it's no bng' not the wboli Ahem ! nuij nteen pipes o' ^ Bere, taltt ne supper. I 1 1 can't dek; as ye plasej the pipe from ^< bnt tbeir're iy, when tqeoi small to re >w starve disiolit light-house. Ochine ! ochme ! the good ould times when we ust to think nothin of fifty coaches in the eveuin, dririn into the court yard." " Humph, make it a hundher at onct," said Else, *^ what signifies a score or two over »> •3 " Well, may I niver do harm, Else — " << Whist, bedhahustf I say, I'm in no tumor now to listen to such foolery*. I ought to be on the road by this time,'' and idvancing to the cupboard she drew down •u oaten bannock from a shelf, and break- log it into several pieces consigned it to her pocket. Then brincmg the silver mounted pistol she was in the habit ol car- rying on her journeys, close to the light, she examined the priming, and finding it satisfactory, thrust it into her breast. — ** There," she ejaculated, " yer aisy carried any way, and who knows but ye may be of sarvice afore Randall Barry gets clear of his blood-hoiinds." « Where are ye bound for, Else," in- {^ttired Eodger, ** with that waipon about "Crolian." << Yer not bent on murdher, I hope." "Not ifl can help it." ** Bedad, then," said Rodeer, " Iwudn't tnist ye if ye got into one of yer tantrums. Ahem ! yei a dangerous woman, Else, when ^er vexed, or, as the ould sayin is, yer a l^od friend but a bad inimy. But, Else, codn't ye lend us a thrifle o' that money ye got from the Yankee 1 Ahem ! I'd pay it rack at the end o' the quarter." •« Not a farthin, Rodger. I'm keepin that for anotlier purpose." , « Well, it's not much I'm askin," said Eodget, *' only just the price of a dozen o' iHne, and a cheese or two, for the credit o' the house." ^f^ | " Let the houseiakcciy of itself," res- l^piided Else, fhroWihg the gray cloth l^^ain upon her enialiiated i^oulders. *' I'll haVe u^ fbr th6 mY>ney if&n long, R6d- ger, every bit as advantageotis to yer ndas- ter, as to buy cheese with it, or wine aitber. So out with ye— I must be gone." " Ahem ! yer in a mighty hurry. Else ; wait till I eet the picthur under my coat. Ahem, as for a dhrop of any thing, I sup- pose it's not convanient." << Humph I a dhrop of any thine. I thou]>ht it'd come to that at last," and again opening the cupboard, she drew forw a bottle and held it for an instant between her and the light. "Ay, there's some left," she added, laying it on the table.—- " Drink it, and let me go." Rodger raised the bottle also, and seeing it nearly full laid it down again. " Ahem I ahem!" said he, smoking down his long gray hairs, and looking wistfully at Else. " Ahem, it's a liberty I take, but if ve have no objection, I'll carry it home with.in^." "Carry it home." ' '*^'; " Yes. Ahem ? Captain Petersham ana the Johnsons '11 be down to-morrow, and there's not a dhrop to ofier them." " Take it then, take it, and away with ye. I ought to be in Crohan by this time." " Ye might had company," observed Rodger, carefully corking the bottle and droppmg it into Itis capacious pocket.-— "Ye might hai^ company if ye onljr left sooner." " I want none," replied Else, « the dark night's all the company I ask." " Well, thatBlackamore came down with a constable, just afore I left the light«hoi|ae, and took the boy away with them.**;. i^„.,j.; "What," exclaimed Else, ^'turaing'oii her step, "took the boy away in the n|lte he's in." "Ay did they, troth, and without as much as saying by yer lave atself. I'he constable had a writ with him signed by Mr^ Hardwrinkle.'* "Ah, the villian," exclaimed Else, " that's more of his plottin. Was the boy willintogo?" " WillSi— ye might well say that. The IM THB LADY OF THE BEACOIf OF ARAHEERA. V II' H minit be saw the Blackamorei he all but jumped out o' bed with joy, and the poor filackamore himself kissed and hugged the little fellow till I thought he'd niver let him go. Beddd, I niver thought them naigers had so much good nature in them afore." ^* And so he had a writ from Fwobert Hardwrinkle," muttered Else reflectively. ** Ay, ay, that was the Yankee's doings, I iuspect. I'm beginnin to think from what IVIrs. Motherly tould me about the nigger, when he first got a glimpse of Weeks, they must be ould acquaintances, and maybe thought the boy'd tell tales whenhe re- coyere^ hi^ senses. Hah, hah, Robert Hardwrinkle, I'm on yer track again, if I'm not greatly desaved. So the boy's gone," she added. **Ay, is he," replied Rodger, "and mighty well plazed I am at that same, in re- gard to Miss Mary, for the creatur cudn't do a hand's turn while he stayed — but Lould," said Bodger, suddenly checking biin'self, ** hould, I'll wager what ye plaze, he tuck the rosary with him." « What rosary ?" demanded Else. <*Why, Mary's mother's— Mrs. Tal- t>ot'8, and I never thought of it till this miiiit." *« The one with the jewels ?" . "Ay, and the gold crucifix. She forgot all about it, I suppose." "Forgot what/" ** Tkt she lent it to him." ' ** She never lent it ; she hadn't it to lend since the day the Yankee first came to the lighthouse. She mislaid it somewhere that day, and niver could find hilt or hare of it since. Hoah ! ye were only dhramin, Bod- « Dramin— bedad then," replied Bodger, " it was a mighty quare drame, whin I saw it with my own eyes, and handled it with my own fingers." " Her mother's rosary 1" « To he sure. How could I mistake itt Di^Tcany it a dozen times myself to the jewellers to have it mended, when we — ahem I when we lived at the castle 1 Be- dad, Else, it's not a thing to be aisy mis- taken about, for there's not the like of itu) the whole world but one, and that same's many a thousand mile from here — if it's in bein at all." « You mane Mr. Talbot's!" '< Of course. They were both as like as two eggs, and a present, I was always tou)^ from the Duchess of Orleans to Edward^ father and mother, when they went to France long ago." " Ay," said Else, resuming her seat looking up sharply in Rodger's face, as^ shr feared his mind was wandering, ** ij ^ as like as two eggs,' and where did the boy keep the rosary, for it's strange I never could see it about him, though I wfti with him late and early." •< Well, ahem !" said Bodger, " I must tell ye that. Else, since ye asked me.— Ahem, one day last week as Lanty ,Was go- ing to Boonakill, I wanted him to bringme a bottle o' wine, fcr feen a dhrop was in the house, and we expected company that evenio. Well it happened Mr. Lee had ib money convenient, and naither Lan^ him- self, nor Mary, anil I did not know what in the world to do in the amplush I was in, for as luck id have it, the brandy was out as well as well as the wine, and not a taste of ai^ thing in the house but a thrifle of whiskey in the bottom p' the decanter. So thinla I to myself since I can dp no better, I'll ahem ! I'll try, maybe the cabin boy might happen to have some change in his pockets, and I'll borrow it till he gets well." ** So ye searched his pockets 1" , " 1 did," replied Bodger, " ahem ! It was not right, I suppose, but seein the pinch I was in, you know I couldn't very weD help it." ■ *"' " And found the rosary f" ** Yes, sowed in the linings of his waist- coat pocket. I thought first from the hard feel it might be gold pteceS) and^ I ripped it openr A CHRONICLE 0? 1NNISH0WEN\ 145 « Sowed in the linins of his waistcoat 1" repeated Else, pronouncing the words slow- ly, and gazing vacantly at her companion as tJie spoke. « Ay, she sowed it in herself, I suppose, tbinkin the blissed cruci6x might help him in his sickness." « Rodger Shaughnessy," said the old woman, suddenly rising, after a long pause, during which she Jcept her eyes uncon- sciously fixed on him. ** Rodger Shaugh- nessy, can you swear on the holy evangelist, you seen that rosary in the boy's possession?" « Of course I can. Why, is there any tiling strange in that ? Ye seen) so be all ofaflutther about it." << No matter — I have my own manin for i^. Now you go back to the lighthouse and stay with Mary ; she's all alone, and needs yer con^pany. I must hurry as fast ai I can to Castle Gregory, and then back to Prolan ." ^' The Lord be about us !" exclaimed Kodorer, as he stood looking at the reced- ing ^rm of the old woman descending the ^il), ** What does she mane now 1 There she^s Ca to Castle Gregory this hour of the night, and thinks no more of it than a girl woqid of sixteen. Ahem ! he added, but- toning: his coat over the pictqre, and mov- inff off towards th« lighthouse ; " she's a ifoiicherful woman." ** Upon my wqrd, it's verv strange," said Mr. Guirkie tq Father l^rennan, as the latter entered the breakfast parior at Green?- mqimt tq make his usu«] morning v}sit, ^< I declare it is exceedingly strange." << What's the matter ; any thing new since last night P* enquired the priest. *' "No i but that abduction of Miss Hard- wrinkle — Mr9. Motherly has just returned from the post office, and says there are no tidinffs of her yet. What in the world could the fellow mean by carrying her off 1" '' Humph ! you'll soon find that out, I suspeet. Lanty sejdom plays a trick with- Qilt ftn qbjeet." **Yo\k think Lanty's th^taan then, with- out doubt." " Certainly— no other would attempt it " and the priest picked up a newspaper, and familiarly took a seat at the window. , " Why, God bless' me, if Robert Hard- wrinkle gets hold of the unfortunate fellow, he'll transport him," said Uncle Jerry, pacing the room uneasily, and bobbing the tail of his morning gown up and down as usual. << He certainly will transport him, eh J What]" , . " Never mind," said the priest, " Linty can take care of himself. With all bis recklessness he always manages to keep clear of the hangman. Ten chances to one if caught with the lady in his cus- tody, he would not make it appear he was only taking her home, or perhaps prove an alibi, as he did last week in the bailiff's case." " Just so. I wouldn't doubt it in the least," assented Uncle Jerry, ** the fellow's capable of doing any thing. In fact he has imposed on myself a hundred times. Np later than last week the rascal sold me hare's ear crqttle, not worth a brass but- tqn ." " Ha ! ha !" laughed the priest, <* you're beginning tq find him out at last," << Well, but affcr all, the Tillian has something in him one can't help liking*^ — He's full of tricks, tq bs sure, but still he's honest in his own way. I wish (to heaven he was out of the county for a while at all events.^ I wish to the Lord h^ was! for if he stay here that serpent will destroy him.'* a Who— Hardwrinkle ?" « Yea ; he'll follow him like a blood- hound. But I had almost forgotten. What of your young friend Barry. Will he be committed to-day t" " I fear it. Captain Ff tersham snys be can't help committing him. The case is so clear there's no possibility of getting over it." " Poor fellow. Fm sorry for bin, and Pm very sorry on Mary Xiie's accowit.— 146 THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. ^ \^ Can nothing be done to save him — eh ?" I « Nothing — the serjeant of the police ] here — Kennedy, who is really a very honest, ddcent fellow, savs he must identify him." " They say he's a fine younir man, Father John:" ; / ^ ^ »< Very much so, indeed. He's as hand- sbnie and high-minded a lad as ye could iftciet with any where. But like all young ittlii in love, Jbe is very imprudent. So much i^Q indeed^ that I often think he must hafie^jbeen crazy to act as he has. The idek';eif his running the gauntlet through all tHe ^sonstablieis and spies between here and Cork', witif a reward of d6500 for his h^dr, merely to see a foolish young girl, is s6 |)rovbking to all who feel an interest in hi^ welfare, that— — " ^ Hush ! htish ! Father John, nonsense, say, no iqore about that. Love's a thing yt)a'r$| tiot competent to speak of, you Unpyr', It's out of your line altogether. So faf from tbihkjng the less of him for his im- prudence, i know I think the more of him. BtA apropos of the Lees," he added, throw- ing Up his spectacles and halting before the priest, ** have you found out who they are or what tiiey arc t" 'f No,; sir ; sp. far as regards their family conheiiQiiis, I know no more about them than you Ww yourself." ,*1 declajrei It's very strange. I can f^a bo one to give me the least informa- tion of the family k 1 tried once to draw 8qm^'i)i|ng from Kate Petersham's — she's so' fniiitisite there, but the young baggage was as close, as an oyster. As for Rodger, I jdarp^t yentujre to approach the subject at alK'^irat He should ^ke alarm, and then he woula^Aever come to sell me a picture again,^ 'But have you no conception of what the mystery is ? It can't be murder, suppose r* *^W iiiit notJiin^ of that nature. It meians that Mr. Lee has got embarrassed i^ his mo^ey. affairs, and left home for a tiiiie^ tci 'avoid lis creditors—that's all, I suspect." « Poor fellow," said Uncle Jerry, " it's a pity of him," " It is," responded the priest, " a great pity ; for he's an honorable, generous-heart- ed man as I've met in many a year." •< God comfort him," ejaculated Uncle Jerry again, twirling his thumbs as he look- ed through the window. << Oh dear I oh dear — what a poor sight, to see a high-mind- ed, well-bred gentleman like him reduced so low — so low as to trim oil lamps for a living." " It's hard," said the priest. « Hard ! Why, only think of k, - « am I, a miserable, good-for-noth^t' d imbecile, without kith or Lin in the .Vriui-ia, and yet plenty of money in my puise— *and a comfortable house to live in, whilst down there in the black binns of Araheera there's a gentleman of birth and education, with an angel of a child to take care of, and not a shilling in his pocket to buy the common necessaries of life. I declare it's awful." " The ways of God are wonderful." " Wonderful," repeated Uncle Jerry.— '^1 tell you what. Father Brennan, one must be well fortified by religion to bear up against it. A beautiful girl lik Mary Lee, pining away in poverty and solitude,: working — working, night and day, night and day, at her easel to earn a morsel of bread, and I a worn out old rnscal, doing nothing, nay, occupying some useful bodyV place in the world, when I should have, been kicked out of it long«ago. Why sir, it's outrageous to think of it. It's actually outrageous." " Stop— stop, take care, Mr. Guirki?," said the priest, " you talk too fast." '' Sir, it would provoke 'any man. Imj if Aristotle were a saint, it would provoke him ;" and Uncle Jerry rose and pushed back the chair violently. ** But this is taking God Almig))ty to task, Mr. Guirkie, You should remember he orders every thing for the best, and tb&t thrate i ye, wh( «Ai quired A CHRONICLE OF INNlSHOWEN. 147 Jeriy, «it»^ tf St, " a great nerous-heart- year.'* uiated Uncle bs as he look- !)h dear! o)i a faigh-mind- him reduced lamps for t of ii% - ^ BOth'i;' .4' I the.Wtjrt-ia, puise— ^aod whilst down r Araheera d education, ake care of, to buj the declare it'i derful." zk Jerrjr,— Erennan, one s^ion to beir iri lik Marf ad solitude^ day, night I morsel of seal, dojng iseful bodyV %uld have ■Why sir,' [t's actually Guirki^,** jt." lan. I^ay Id provoke and pushed Hy to task, nember be apd ttiat inscrutable are his jud^ents, and unsearch- ably his ways." « I know that. I know God is good, and I know all that seems strange to us now will be fully explained hereafter, of course. Why, if I didu't believe that I wouldn't put up with it half the time." « Ha! ha !" laughed the priest — ** put up with it. You havn't much to put up with, I should think!" <* No matter for that," said Uncle Jerry, «I h»ve my own feelings on that point, and jrou know very well, Father John - — ^^ (Here Mr* Ouirkie was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Motherly.) << Humph! may I beg to know mam," said he, turning half round and looking angrily at his respectable bouse-'keeper, " may I beg to know why we are interrupt- ed;» ** It's no offence, I hope, to come with a message 1" said Mrs. Mother deprecating- \j, " I niver thought it ^as." ** Didn't you ?" siid Uncle Jerry, turn- ing his side to her, for he was afraid to look her in th^ ^frp-j* it' but it's little I thought ye'd construe my kindness in the way ye did." V *oor man has >n't ffo, Mrs. " said Uncle entrance haU ering against jgingfrombK and Captain md. xclaimedtlie onded Unple lirkie, eb f-^ xcited iq my D Petersham, ant for it J" ioMbtedly,-^ y, correcting of the hodse, iouse-keeper, erj'»aftdh« i )r. ' aptain,«it»8 Come^ coroe^ angry wiU) oonaQ grows BQ) you must W| t|^e Itest ir laoguage rry, «an(fl ir.»' i> you must nit," sobbed m the parlor followed by 'woman, sir. lod have nothing but my karacter to de- pend on." «By the lord Harry," exclaimed the Captaitty looking from one to the other, "here's a pretty piece of work. Ho ! bo ! and Father Brennan, too. By George, sir,' jou're the very man. You can settle the whole of ft in a jiffy." «Howso?" "Why, marry them at once, sir. Marry ibem instantly. Nothing else will ever put a stop to their love quarrels." Mr. Guirl^ie on hearing this could con- tain himself no longer. " Captain Feter- sbam," he cried, ** I, shall not ask you to quit my house, for nobody ever did quit it yet at my request, and nobody ever will, I suppose, but sir, I'll leave you and your friends to occupy the premises. For my part, I leave this neighborhood to-morrow, and will seek for some place where I can live in peace." " Mr. Guirkie, are you mad ?" said Fa- ther JohU} stopping him as he turned the handle of the hall door. "Gentlemen, dear, don't let him go out without his cap," said Mrs. Motherly, " and them slippers of his, sure they're no betther dian brown paper — he'll ketch his death of cold. Oh hierjia ! hierna /" " Mr. Brennan, am I to consider myself a prisoner in my own house ]" demanded Mr. Guirkie. As the priest was about to reply, the clatter ef horses' feet was he^ ^ approach- ing, and the next instant Kate Petersham mounted on " Moll Pitcher," came canter- ii^into the court yard,and reining up at the 4o6r, jumped jfrom the side saddle. " Mr. Guirkie, a word with you," said Kate, taking his arm, and leading him back to the parlor ; '^ as for you. Father John, X must see you before the trial comes on." CHAPTER XXV. , It was now approaching noon-*-the hour ^. vrliich the neighboring justices of the peace usually assembled In the little court- house at Taurny to hold their petit session once a fortnight. Already the court yard was filled with men, women and boys, (a thing of very rare occurrence in that re- mote and peaceable district), eagerly talk* ing m groups, here and there, about some- thing in which they seemed to take a more than ordinary share of interest. Two or three policemen whom Hardwrinkle had or- dered from the next town, to take charge of the barrack in the absence of its proper occupants, now in search of his sister among the glens of Benraven, were pacing up an^ down before the grated windows, anxiously awaiting the arrival pf the magistrates. To judge from the smothered imprecations of some among the crowd, who seemed to claim a sort of authority, and more signifi- cant gesticulations of others, one might easily suspect there was mischief brewing. Here and there a stalwart fellow might be seen hitching up his pantaloons, and spit- ting on his shillalah, as he clutched itm bis brawny hand, and now and then a boy would jump to a seat on the low stone wall that enclosed the court-yard, with poekete well stuffed, and more than usually heavy. The fear of the law, and the presence of the police, small as the force was, had the natural effect of repressing for the pjresent any positive indication of the breach of peace, but still it was easy to see,tha| something serious was likely to take place before the close of the proceedings. Qne individual in particular seemed very hvsfj among the crowd, apparently giving orders and directions. This was a person of tall stature, wearing a grey cloak, with the hood drawn over, but behind wluch, notbwith: standing the depth of shade, several white elf locks were plainly visible. The reader will probably recognize in this personage our old acquaintaince, Else Curley, of the Cairn. Still erect and lithe as a sapling, though the snows of eighty winters bad passed over her head, shie made her way through the throng of men and w^men, with 150 THE LADt OP THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. a step as Urnt as trben she trod Hbe battle field on the heights of Madeira, fortf yean before. Nor had she lost entirely, either, that imposing presence, which in her young- er days must have stamped her as a remark- able 'vroman. Age, if s true, had furrowed her skin, and pinch^ her cheeks with its iron fifijg^ers, but the bold forehead and the deep gtey eye were there yet, to tell of her resolute and unconquerable will. As she suddenly turned from sidie to side to deliver her commands, the women and boys fell back and ga2ed at her with fear, and the strongest men there shrank from her touch, as tik6y felt her bard hand upon their shoulders. » Suddenly a horseman appeared in sight, cantering on from the direction of Green- mount cottage, and instantly the cry rose that Captain Petersham was coming. Then the crowd began to sway to and fro, the boy9 to jump from their seats on the low wall, and the policemen to shoulder their ittuskets. But they were doomed to be disappointed, for the horseman on nearer apprdach, '|»roired to be t)nly one of the Ci^n'f jgfbGy«,'T^lR>, riding up to the gate, beckoned to a constable, and hand- ing him a warrant, commanded him in his master's name to execute it without delay; The man seemed to hesitate for a mo- ment after readmg the document. ** The Captain's orders are, that you proceed to CrOhan House instantly," and the groom» '* a^nd bring the boy into court." <* Ye*, but I don't feel at liberty to quit my post," reified the constable. "Our force is small— only three here and three in the barrack." ' ** As you please," said the servant, « I have delivered niy orders," and wheeling his hont round without further parley, gal- loped back to Ghreenmount. " WeH, Thomas," demanded the Cap- tain, meeting the groom at the door, ** you handed the warrant to one of the guard — has he gone to execute it t" ^ No, sir^he ' seiims to have strui about quitting his post." « Scruples I ho I ho ! Is that t^e way of it T Scniples ! Look here, dir,' ride bilibk and tell him for me, that if he don't start within sixty seconds from the tiijde j^on reach him, I'll blow his brains out tea minutes after. Begone now, and huriy back to report." '" " " The scoundrel !",he continued, pluck- ing off his sea cap, and rubbing up his cur- ley hair, as the servant rode off, " the sneaking scoundrel f I'll thin off his cob- stables for him I By the lord Harry, he'll not involve me in his villanies, if I can help it. It's most atrocious. What! send a fine gallant young fellow like that to tfae hulk, or the gallows, because he \otei }6i country more than his king ? I'll be hangied if I do it, so long as I can throw an obsni- cle in the way." « Captain," said a voice behind him,** if it's plazin' to yer honor ^" "Hilloa! who's beret" he ejaculated, turning around. "What? Mrs.Motheri. iy — and still in tears ? ComC;^ cdipiie, go to your room, woman, and get recohclled.— Away ! You're as great a fool as yoto master !" " Indeed, then, thafs the truest woidye said yet. Captain, for if I wasn't a greater fool, I wouldn't stay with him . But there's an end to it now, any way." "End to whatl" "I'll leave him, that's it." "Nonsense!" " Indeed then, I will, sir ; I'll never deep another night in his house. My heart's been a breakiu with him every day these fire years, but it's broken nOw, out and out. Oh wirastru, foirastru ! and this is the thanks I'm gettin after workin and slavin for him early and late, nieht an mornj in, every hour since I first darkened his doore. But sure it's all past and gone now, any way." "Hold your peace, wom^," sftid the Captain, ** and go to your room instantly. A CHROKICtS OF IN^MUOWEN 1§1 Mr. Guirkie is too good for 70U. Away, tnd thank God you have such a master.'' /< Oh it's little yer honor knows about kim, Captain. Ay, ay, it's little you know about him poor man. Och, hoch, dear, if ye lived in the same house, wit*i him as I did these five long years. But no matter now, yr, and hurS I «"*> ^°** forgive him as I forgive him, ' ■ and that he may live long and die happy, is all the harm I wish him. And now I wash my hands of him for evermore. I'll never " "Mrs. Motherly!" . .. 7w. <' You astonish me ; tan they really so very destitue." " So I'm informed ; and indeed frodi what I have seen and know myself^ I be- lieve they must be reduced as low.aa thej can be, and live." " God bless me!" " Why, I thought Kate had told 70a of it." ''.pjif8:^in " No. She said soiOfiething, I reinem- her, of their being poor, and all that, but never hinted at any danger of their suffer- ing. By the lord Harry, sir, exclainH^d the Captain, this can't w,e. It shan't be. Tlw thought of MarylLee ia distrest actiUUlj frightens me." ! , -, " And then, she's so patient and gentlej,?' said Father John, " never seen but with a smile on her^face. Working at her easel through the long day, and often far into the night, with old Drake sleeping, hy her side as she plies her brush: — ^worldngn!- working without complaint or miiruuiryi to earn the bare necessaries of life fop her ber loved uncle and that good oldman who has followed them so faithfully in their iaUfa fortunes." ., ,j " She's a delightful creature!" eidaim- ed the Captain. *< I wish to the Lord she could be induced to come and stay with Kate at Castle Gregory. [ would bivA brother to her as long as she Hved^^^ ,. -> " She never would consent to part .iriib her uncle and old Roger."^.^iii9* ,.|>5fi>#J«1 "Then, by the lord Harry," crieO^ Hie Captain, " let them all three ocine. C^ tie Gregory's large enough for them. As for me, I suppose I must remain an old bachelor, since there's no help forit*rr- Lee's an honest, kind^iearted, generovs fellow himself, too, as ever broke -the world's bread, and I should take it ast a favor if he came and^ook up bii quarters 152 ttiE LADir bf ttit Beacon of arah^eIiA. With itie at the Old Castioi £7 George^ I tiiuMtieaU down in thd 'Wiiter Hen' to- inorrow, and see him abdtft it.'^ ; I ' « Don't Jpetik too fast, Ciiptain;^^ said the priest. "Have a little pitiente.'— Thflirs a mirsterynow solving in that room, which ma^ baulk you, perhaps, of your ge- ^Myttery!" iMYts. Shall I tell you what it isl or have you time to hear it? The court sits at noon ; does it not t" ^"^'^Uan^ uhe c6urt ! Go on with the mystery. rr!<( :iw«n, Bogfer has been selling pictures tO^out finend,'Mr. Giiirkie, it appears, for tht^a last sis monthS) or more, and queer idoi^h, never ima^ned for a moment that tU^ purchaser had the least suspicion of the ^flilll, having passed himself offas k pic- ture-dealer from Derry ; while on the other haijd^ ]!i/[t** Guirkie was well aware of the 8e«f tfae< family,^ alqd therefore he went tttmariaQ assumed name%" .^*-0t cours^w WeU, this morning, it ^ftiMs^lie! started from the light-house to sell a picture as usual. When he reached faah^ he feilt ra^r shy about coming in, hMt^ iMi might happen to meet somebody iilfo 1^ ieen him before, and would necog- tkiai him*- So, sitting down undei* the win- dow, t6 wait fcMT an opportunity of seeing 'I1&. ©airkiti alone, and feeling somewhat fatigued, perhaps, after his long journey, he fUl liMtiisleep^ In that position Mr.Gtiir- lBi«>discovet>ed hibi, with 'the picture care- iblly ^Oft^ealeduoder the breast of his coat;| iJMBt'^as Kate entered th^pairlor; You faeard^e shriek he gav^ when the portrait ; liwt in«B eyej I sttpbose." i!« Shpifefc^no, I healed no shi'iek. Por- t«iit I ■ wbjTy wIlKt does it mean /" >'j %%^% meaiis that he recogufaieid the tikit- ness^ tind in so doing, almost lost his seniftis< But wait, you shall hear. In the iirst place, it happened to be a copy Mary had taken of her mother's portrait which Roger carried off, either by mistake, or because he could find no other picture ready." " Yes, very well — go on," said the Captain, impatiently, 'Mt don't matter which." << And this very portrait now reveals the whole mystery." " The mystery ! There you are at it again," cried the Captain. *< Good hea- vens, sir, can't you tell me what mystery you mean / Excuse me, Mr. Brennan^j but you know how deeply interested I feel in every thing that regards this girl'i-and then your'e so tedious." ** Have patience a little longer and I'll explain," said the priest, smiling. ** You are already aware that Mr. Guirkie has been for the last five years in the habit ot visiting, once a week, the old church-yard of Rathmullen, and that nobody could tell his reason or motive for so doing." << Certainl V, every one in the parish knows that— well?"' " And you remember to have heard Mr. Guirkie tell how he saw a young lady quit- ting the church-yard several times, as hi| entered." -^ Aa * now turas d and Mary the same ms iii.. • therP ler! arenot But TOU he wreek of ly of a WQ- tt Iter neck, ot engraved 4H1 the back, was cast ashore, and interred in Rathmulien church-yard. That woman was Mary Lee's mother." " Good heavens !" << Yes, sir, Mary's mother." « Humph ! ahd so that accounts for those strange rumors we heard of the Tvhite lady and gentleman, seen so often quittii>g the church-yard and sailing down the 8wiiiy on moonlit nights. But what business had Mr. Guirkie at her mother's crave, eh t" " That's the secret," replied the priest. "The secret! Well, well, you're at it again. But no matter — no niatter, have your own way, have your own way. T shall ask no more questions. I suppose you'll tell it some time — when it suits you. By" George, sir, you're the most cir- cum " " Captain, dear," said Mrs. Motherly, opening the door gently, and cutting the word in two, *^ I want " " Want ! What the fury do you want ?" thundered the provoked Captain. ** Only one word, yer honor, afore I go. It's about the master's flannels. I'm afeerd — -" -^ <tbei^'«a-^ mystery — in it." "Mystery! Good heavens, thi^re It ft again! Mystery, well if this isnt.ettouigh to provoke— away ! stand off! I'll bb hum- bugged no longer— let me piss— I must' see him instantly." ' ' " You shall not, Captain," cried iSattI, endeavoring to prevent him, *f yon shall not." '^^ ' "Butlshall, though;'* ' ^ ^''- >"f " Nay, nay— it's a very; deliilite affair, brother ; and indeed he'll never forglyeiyott if you do — ^you know how bashful attd,^en«' sitive he is." ..'^''' " Is hie still insensible?*' inquired Falser John. "Quite so," responded Eite;<*^liel*l& not moved a muscle since he sa)w tfab ma- ture." , . ■' ''■- ■ '-''■'■ pf^ , " Insensible !" repeated tbe C^ltiai^^ "^then by the lord Harry, delicate oijiide^ licate, I'll see rny old frieridvthiiill|f,w^a^ you please about it'j" an^ fn^eihg hndwlf from his sfeter's grasp^ he ad^ced il**^ opened the door orthe adioinni^Onodm* The first object which met hisvieWji Mr. Guiricie hhhself, seated ^ a^tiifife' which lay Whatappeared' to bieifrippdi picture some eight or ten inches squafe:-^ His forehead reiited on Bis 'Bnnds^ aj^ 1^ eyes aeeined riveted io the cikliyl^. Xt^ deed, so absorbed was he/tiiat the noi9^ w^ich the Captain made in forcinj^: opbii th^ door, seieined not in the' least to difr' turb him. Wheii Kate' sieLw , fhe Qiiptikiii gazitjg so intently at ife, GtaifMCj^ste 154 THE iADT OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA* $:H . JgttKf ir nSSft^i^ m mi •oddepJ/ ceaied speaking, and gently pass- ing him by, took her place behind Uncle Jerry's chair. Ail was silence now. Old BtOger stood leaning bis back against the ball looking down on the floor, Kate like a giuirdian angel took her stand by the side of her unconscious fi^nd ; the priest lean- ed his bands against the door-casing and peeped in, and the boisterious^ burly Cap- liaiir^ so noisy but a moment before, re- mained standing on the threshold silent and notienless as a statue. << Look f" said the Priest, whispering over the Captain's shoulder, and pointing to the picture. ."Whatr> « Pon't you see something drop — drop? listen I You can almost hear them falling OB the canvass." « Tears;" ' "Yes." ** God bless roe ! I don't like to see him weep,", whispered the Captain. " Shall I wake him up7'*,;|;*, ; ," ijo, no," said Kate, « let him weep on j> . .^VBiit, ICate, I'm confused and bewilder- eid. I can only half see through it. What ^lOrtrait is that— eh r „ '■'** The likeness of a long lost friend — Mary Lee's mother." ^ Lopg: lost friend — Mary Lee's mo- y^^.the only woman be ever loved. )ger, here, will tell you all about it, ijoib^ ii^e when he bas more leisure." '^Ilfsoolv nowl could recognize bim, our boiiiorpf'^saidEoger,'^ though I seen nfftDy » j^me ibis twelvemoi^li past.^ — Mrsy yoii knpwy inake a gre^it change in W-r, si^'-Ksftel inastj^ryto rouse him,", said jjof Ccptain; " I <^not bear tO; see those 1^^ 'failinjg,tbeire so silent Jy— it's very un- . « Not,yet^npt yet,'? replied Kat», mV ,tiomngi Iback tbje Cfiptain !*<#b her band, <*l et jljif^.^Mthi"^ sc^ i|u)^lge bi? rapturons reverie. These are not tears of angoi^ brother^ but of love. Oh, think of the love of that heart, aftc an absence of twenty years. Surely, surely such love is not of earth but beaven : so pure, so gentle — so enduring. A wanderer over the wide world, seeking solace for a widowed heart, he returns to his native land, and af- ter years of patient search, discovers her lowly tomb at last among the ruins of Eatb-F mullen Abbey. Week after week for six long years has he visited that tomb. Every stain which the mildew had left on the humble slab that bears her name, be has obliterated, and every letter the moss of years had filled up, he has lovingly renew- ed. Oh, tell me not, Father John," coa- tinned Kate, her cheeks flushed by the emotion of her heart, « tell me not, that the pure — gentle — blessod love of the old- en time has all died out from the hearts of men. . No, no, no — God is love, and God never dies. Noble, generous, faithful heart !" added the enraptured girl, bursting herself into tears, and fallini;: at Uncle Jerry's feet she removed his hand from his forehead and kissed it with enthusiastic af- fection. " Oh that I had but studied this book more carefully ! how much more I should have learned of the beautiful and the good. How cold and insipid are all printed words, compared with the blessed teachings^ of a heart Hke this. Mary Lee, Mary Lee, angel of a woman, whatever thou art, would thrt he could now look on thy seraphic face, and press thee " " Mary Lee," repeated Mr. Guirkie, at last breaking silence and looking on the face of the suppliant girl, while the tears still glistened on his own. ** Mary Lee I I think I have beard the name before. — Poor Mary Lee. Are you Mary Lee/'* ," Noy no," replied Kate, " I am but a child of earth— your OFopoor^ foolish, lovt ing Kato Petersham^!! As IQate spoke) she motioned to the beholders to quit the roon^ for she dreaded thO, effect this ex- j)OSMro of bis weakness before the banter- ing Captt leositive delicacy from the before eon\pletel we must conrt-sesi bert Har the cour Greenmo tain the he should Insimpor Fathei Guirkie e^uanimi saddle re took the reached the servi sons hac Cofley anxiety 1 Mr. Hi great hai hiended i ttid requ tOtnafirit iti ^ di "Av said the lay on^ quietly i «*Very 1 of my^ John!'» <* Sir MTal and dri house.' and tell delay a underst «Y« ti Ai ACttRONICLE OV INNlSHOWSIf. 155 •8 of angnisb, think of the an absence of v'sucb love is ture, so gentle rer over the r a widowed 3 land, and af- discovers her ruins of Kathi- week for six tomb. Everjr id left on the lame, he has the moss of I'ingly renew- John," con- lushed b/ the me not, that re of the old- the hearts of ve, and God Dus, faithful girl, bursting Z at Uncle and from his tbusiastic af- studied t^is inch more { tieautiful and sipid are all the blessed Marj Lees, an, whatever now look on tee " . Guirkie, at >king on the lile the tears Mary Lee! ie before. — lary I' «« *• -^^ :--' <« And s6e here— dofiH #iit to feed the horse, but go at once ." « No, sir." << Let Mr. Lee have the gig, since he has no conveyance of his own, and you can re> turn on foot at your leisure." " Certainly, sir." When the servant closed the door, the priest leaned back in his chair and com« posed himself to read his vespers. And k snug, pleasant little room it was, that par^ lor of Father John's, to read or pray in^ with its latticed windows looking down on the placid face of the beautifulMuIroy now sleeping calmly in the bosom of the hills; Close by the side of the humble edifiee grew a long line of gooseberry and currant bushes, and up from between them, here and there, the honey-suckle stretched its long neck into the open windows. Oiit before the door stood the old elm tree, ma-i jestic and lonely in the centre of the grass plot, spreading its giant branches far and wide over house and garden* Many a name was carved on that sturdy old trunk in its day, and many a time the priest and his good old reverend uncle before him, slit on the stone bench and leaned baek against it in the summer evenings, to say the rosary or tell the beads. And there, too roun^ about grew many a Qowser-of native growtb,^ fresh and fair and simple and modest, like the virgin whose altar they were iiktende<| to decorate— the mountain daisy, white aa snow, the primrose, its faithful companion^ at its side, the cowslip with the dew dwliya on its face, and the lily of the valley hiding^ its head in the grass, as if it felt it had nol right to occupy a place in the world at dW^ These and such as these were the only tenants of that modest garden. Ob, veH we remember it — that garden where none but wild flowers gr^w— those pretty wild flowers, nature's own spontaneous offering*. And every morning would the priest phick a bunch to scatter on the shrine of the yir-. gin, as he ascended ber altar to say the holy mass, knowing wdl . she loved ihma the best; for it was such as these. Joseph )156 THE LADY OF TUB BBACOM OF AftAHBBRA. tised to gather for her long ago by the way side when his'work of the day was done. Down below the garden and over copse whiQb lay between, appeared the white- washed walls of. Massmount Chapel rising from the water's edge, and on either side facing the sea, the white gravcfStones peep- ing out from the long grass and tangled fern. But in that solitary spot there was one particular grave on which the priest's eye often loved to rest, as he sat by the window gaziog down on the old church- yard. It was the grave of an old and long icbcrished frie«d — of one who found him in )m early days an exile and a wanderer, and took him into bis house and heart ; one who paused not to ask the poor wayfarer from what nation he came or whither be went — for his big heart knew no distinction of birth or race ; who lavislied on bim all the loyipg fondness of a father, and at last took hiffl, by the band and led him withm the sanctuary. On that humble slab covering the old man's grave, the priest's eyes often rested as he 9at by the window of his little parlor. And often he sighed and longed for the day to come when he might see that stone replaced by a monument more worthy the great and holy heart that slept beneath it* But alas ! he sighed in vain, for he was poor and his love alone could oevier raise it. Dear reader, many a noble heart lies mouldering in a forgotten grave: and many a grave on which gratitude should have erected - ' i'atber Brennon bad> a little mora than aenmeaced to read Lis office^ when the pirior door opened and a servant announced aviHtor* Rvsently our old acquaintance Dr. Horseman entered, and the priest in- aptly laid his breviary on the table and rose to receive bim. «Doetor Horseman!" he exciaimed; " this is very kind. I'm very much pleased to see you'-^pray be seated." **8ir, I tliiatik you," replied Horseman. **l merely called to return this volume of Bailly's Theology, and to thank you for your hospitality before I leave;" > < < ** Ah 1 then I see you are still tingry with lae. Doctor,*^ said the prkst deprecatingly, uui indeed perhaps not without some show of reMOH) for I may in a moment of irrita- tion have said more than was ^ tfeeommg in tfae'pvtaanoe^^atraiigeta, still we mmt not indulge resenttnent, you Ictiow.'^ rhap8 80« If I did I sincerelyregret "But, sir, your regret is not enough* In ju&iice to me you are bound to retract th'^ charges you made against me in pre* r :nce of tVe paiUes before whom you made them." " Ti a 1 shall, sir, most willingly. Wbat- ovfir those part .s may think unjustifiable ill the langu&g« I used that night, I am ready to retract and ap'^lowtse for at any moment. But Doctor y f infringing, on the privileges of private life t. Why then should you expect to meet with greater courtesy than they 1 You lire a public man, sir, and should have pre- pareu yourself to bear the penalties of pub- Mo* life. Why, sir, the idea is monstrous," c^ontinued the priest — " because a man like ,]|pu, distinguished all the world over, hap- pens to be careful enough in his public speeches and published writings to say noth- ingcff preheasible) he may organize parties, leiraoeth, and form clubs, and foster anti- puljses, and aggrayate dissensions, as much 4iftlM^ pleases, and that too with all the ad- vantages fpr evil which his fame and posi- .1109 9)ay gi?e him* I repeat it, sir, such jii^jujeais monstrous." » ; ^ Well-r-but what doe<« all this mean — fix is it intended to apply to mef demand- ,#f4 the Poctor, rising his spectacles and looking fttU at the priest. *^ Wo, not to its full extent — certainly not^ Pm merely contending for a principle which your friends refuse to admit, and ,ti^r<^Ojre place you in a wrong position. — 4#4.y^V Poetor, I can&ot hide from you ^Bif jonvic|ki<|n either that yQuliav* done; «pflijs l^mJn that way,** a 1;^ : ■f»i'i « Humph! how's that 1" I **YovL have estranged hesyrts which;! fear it will be hard again to reeoncile." "What!!!" i^fuj j(^! " Yes, sir, it's a melancholy fact^i Be- fore you resigned the presidency or nnai* agement of the naturalization society, n^ ther antipathies nor dissensions were heird of amongst the class of men with whom I chiefly spent my time whilst sojourning in the States, and sure I am tbftt, judging from the reports we hear every day, it is not so now. Jd surely one as you, with all vrould endeavor WivtHMtead of thit.'> A CHn05ICLK OF INxMSHOWEN 159 « Certainly, and we have tried every gentle meai^s possible, and have failed in every instance." ; « Well, and where's the harm. Suppose the Irish in the United States do brag of their Brian Boiromes, and their Tara Ilalls, and their Fontenoys, and their priests and race, and all that, what harm or injury can it do you/ Or can you expect the immi- grants of any country in the world can for- get the land of their birth the moment their feet touch American soil /?" "If they adopt America as their future home," replied the Doctor, " they should try at least to love it." " And where's the inducement to love iti Is it's scorn and contempt tff every thing Irish an inducement] Is its pro- scription of foreigners, its hostility to their religion, its proselytisms of their children, an inducement ? Ah, Doctor, you surely cannot think us so mean as that. You surely cannot expect the Irish of America, poor as they are, and ignorant as you re- gard them, to crouch like spaniels under the lash, »nd then lick the hands of their master for their morsel of bread. I know they have their faults, and what per pie have them not 1 I know they have many faults, and God knows how often and how bitterly I deplore them. But still. Doctor, I can't help thinking faey have been < more sinned against than sinning.' I know they .have national vices, which in a young and prosperous country like yours, are less tol- erable than in older nations, but these vices are not incurable, a little forbearance and condescension would, in my opinion, go a glreat way to correct them. Besides you look for too much from the Irish, and you make no allowance whatever. After three centuries of oppression and poverty, you expect them to come out here wttli all the personal advantages which wealth, freedom and property have conferred upon yoursel- Yes " • Here the conTersation was suddenly in- terrupted by a loud knock on the hall door, and presently a policeman entered to in- quire for Doctor Horseman. "What's the matter?" demanded the Doctor, stepping to the parlor door, and drawing down his spectacles from his fore- head. " Doctor Horseman, I presume ?" said the policeman. "Yfcs." " Augustus W. Horseman ?" " Yes — that's my name." " A summons, sir, from Captain Peter- sham." : '* "A summons!" repeated the IDbctori looking at the paper which the messenger handed him and then withdrew. "Humph ! what may this mean — * to give such testi- mony as shall be demanded of you in the case of Edward Lee against Talbot for theft.' What the mischief? — why how is this, sir ? Summoned to the petit sessions to give testimony in a case of theft! Is this meant for another insult?" " By no means, Doctor ; "Captain Petet*- sham is incaptTble of such a thing. But let me see. Who is this Lee — -Lee — : there's no Lee that I know of in the parish but Mr. Lee of the light-house. And yet I can't conceive — have you visited* at this light-house ?" ' " Not I, sir J I don't know the man at all." " It's very strange. I shall accompany you to the court-house, however, if you desire it, and see whatitmeans." Sosajr- ing, the priest took his hat and cane and set out for Eomakill, accompanied by Horseman, ejaculating his astonishment as he went, and wondering what testimony he could be expected to give in- the mat- ter. CHAPTER x?:vn. As Father Brennan, accompanied by \Ah learned friend, arrived at th6 court-hobse gate, he found the yard filled with p«o^lel 160 THE LADT OF ^Ui &BACOM OF ARAHEERA. At the door stood two or three policemen with bayonets in their muskets, keieping out the crowd now clamorous for admission to hear the trial, and on the walls were groups of men and boys peeping in through the windows. As the priest made his ap- pearance, however, the noise ceased for a moment, and the usual whisper ran round, " ta skin soggarthf ta shin soggarth,^ " there's the priest, there's the priest." ** Stand back," cri'ed a voice with a tone of^ authority, ** stand back and let his rev- erence pass." The priest glanced quickly in the direc- tion of the speaker. «Who is he 1" inquired Horseman* " Lanty Hanlon, if he's alive.'' '* What ! our guardian skipper 1" s ** The very man — what a fool-hardy crack brain he is, to come here, after car- rying off Miss Hardwrinkle. He hasn't got an ounce of sense, that fellow." " Fall back,'' shouted the policemen, ''fall back and let the gentlemen into court. Make way there for the gentlemen." << As the latter gained the upper step at the court-house door, a loud cheer suddenly broke from one in the crowd — *' Hurrah ! there she comes, the darling, burrab !" ^'So hoh!^' ejaculated Horseman, turn- ing in his step, " what now !" ** Kate Petersham ! I declare it is." ''Hurrah!" shouted the same voice, " there she comes on Moll Pitcher — that's the girl can sit her horse — just look at her boys," '' Hold on," said Horseman. "What's the matter 1" inquired the priest. ^ " Look, look ! sir, she faces that wall. « Pooh ! that's nothing." ** Good heavens ! sir, she'll break her neck." ** Not a bit of it — that girl learned to ride in Ghilway." ** It's six feet — there !-^hold, her horse liftttUu!" . <• Balilksj" repeated the priest, " that's si range, eh, what can have happened, some- thing she sby'd at, I suspect. Moll Piu cher was never known to baulk in her lif^ before." AVhilst the priest was yet speaking, Kate rode her horse close up -to the wall, as if to show her the difficulty she had to encoun- ter, and then wheeling round cantered back for another start. *' She'll baulk again," said Horseman confidently. " Wait awhile, we'll see." Every voice was now hushed, and every eye fixed on the rider, for in truth the leap wab dangerous, and the spectators, as might naturally be supposed, felt anxious for the safety of their favorite. The spot where she tried to cross was the only one in the wall accessible for a leap, on account of large rocks which lay along either side for a distance of quarter of a mile or more, and * even there the ground rose so abrupt as to put the horse to a perilous disadvantage. — Had the rider been aware of the danger before she approached the leap, xevy likely she had ridden round, and avoided the dif- ficulty, but now having once made the at- tempt, she was determined to risk every- thing rather than fail. Perhaps the sight of so many spectators, and the cheers which reached her, had sonftthing to do with con- firming her resolution. As the fearless girl turned her horse's head to the wall, she let the reins drop for a moment, and leaning over <>n the saddle, tightened the girths a hole or two ;, then ad- justing her capj and patting the spirited animal on the neck, again cantered along at an easy gait. •* Now," said the priest, " now for it." "The girl is decidedly mad, sir," ex- claimed Horseman. " Hush, she raises the whip." Moll Pitcher knew well what that sign meant, and with a snort and a toss of her saucy head sprung forward with the fleet- ness of a grey-hound. A ClfROKICtB OF INNISHOWEN. 161 iest, "that's opened, some- MoII Pit^ k in her lifg caking, Kate wall, as if to I to encpun- aotered back i Horseroaa id, and every ruth the leap ors, as might ious for the e spot where one in the n account of her side for or more, and * atbrupt as to [dvantage. — the danger vevy likely ded the dif- ade the at- risk every- i the sight heers which lo with con- her horse's as drop for the saddle, ^ then ad- he spirited ered along w for it." , sj-," ex- : that sign toss of her the fleet- « God assist her," muttered the priest to Ijimself, « it's a frightful risk." «Amen," replied ijorseman, catching t|ie words, *< amen — though she don't de- serve it — her fool-hardiness is unpardon- able." <' Now !" ejaculated the priest, uncon- sciously seizing his friend's arm, " now." As he spoke Kate again raised the whip, aud Moll Pitcher rose to the wall. For a minute or more stillness reigned as deep as death. If The animal touched the wall in crossing, horse and rider would both in all probability have been seriously injured, if not killed. If she did not, there was still danger frqm the broken stony ground on the opposite side. " Hold !" exclaimed Horseman, "they're both down — look ! look !" The mare rose and stood in an almost perpendicular attitude for a second, as if undecided whether to make the attempt or abandon it. It was an instant of painful anxiety to the spectators j but it was only an instant j for in the next she made the spring and crossed without touching a stone, the foam flying from her mouth and the streamers from her rider's cap floating back in the breeze. "Hurrah! hurrah!" now broke in one loud burst from the crowd ; but the excla- mation was suddenly checked, for it was soon found that the rider and horse had both fallen. ♦* Good heavens ! sir, the girl's killed," exclaimed Horseman. " God forbid !" replied the priest, strain* ing his eye as he spoke. " She has cer- tainly fallen." Then a general rush was made towards the gnte, each with his neighbor being first to r''..ch the viemg for the credit of ground. " What means all this uproar 1" demand- ed Captain Petersham, suddenly appearing at the court-housTe door, accompanied by one of bis brother magistrates — ^" eh, what I)as happened." ^< Miss Petersham has fallen, ijr, cross-. ing that stone wall," replied a ^ioUceman. " Falien— impossible. What ! pn Moll Pitcher r " I fear she's hurt, Captaip," said t|ie priest. " Ah ! Father Brennap, yon here, toqt'l He had hardly uttered the last word, when another wild shout rose that made the very welkin ring again, and there plain to every eye came Kate, firmly seated in her saddle, bounding aloqg the nieadow, and waving her handkerchief in aeknowledgment of the greeting. As she jumped the last ditch, a man ap- parently in disguise (for his clothes 8eeme4 to accord little with his figure and gait) advanced and laid his hand on the reins. " Well Lanty, is the trial over ?" de- manded Kate, bending to hei saddle-bow^ and whispering the words. " No, my lad, it did'nt begin yet." •* Glad of it-T-rl feared I should come late." " Is your ladyship hurt t" " Not in the least ; no, it was a mere slip." « Nor Moll Pitcher 1" « Not a particle." , " The darljn," exclaimed l^anty, laying his hand on the mare's neck, " she's as true as steel ; oh ! my life on her for a mil- lion." " The moment will soon come to try her," said Kate, as Lanty stretched put his arms and lifted her from the saddict " 4-7^ you sure all's ready ?" " Ay, ay, never fear." " Where is Miss Hardwripk|e 1" ^* In the mountains, safe and sonnd." " And the police, how many here /" en- quired Kate, looking round cautiously. " Not many," responded Lanty } " bnt don't stay, or tl^e guard will suspect some- thing." The above conversation passefl stealthilj and rapidly, under cover of the cheers A the crowdft 162 THS LADT OF THl BSACOZf OT ARAHBflRA. '■ \ " Fall back," again bawled tbe police ; ** fall back there, and make waj for the lad^." ^:, "Ho! Kate my girl," cried the jolly Captain, snatching his sister up in his arms and kissing her affectionately, as she as- cended the steps. " The rascals here would hare you hurt or killed, but they little know the metal you're made of nor the gal- lant bit of ilesh that carries you, Kate, eh? A little out of sorts by the fall — bruised or stunned, eh ?" "Not a whit," responded Kate. "I eould ride a steieple chase this moment with the best blood in the country. Ah Father J<$hn, you here ! I'm glad to see you," and bending reverently, she kissed the priest's bahd. "My dear girl," responded the latter, " I'm delighted to see you unhurt, for I Must confess I felt rather anxious." " Ob, it was nothing — a mere stumble — tbe mare lighted on a round stone and fell, that's all. Ah, and Dr. Horseman, too — I'm glad to see you here," she continued, holding out her hand. *^ You mi)st come up and see u§ to-morrow at, Castle Greg- ory. Now don't say a word— I shall have no excuse ; you must positively come, and you may cut u|) Swift, too, into mince nreat, if you like. Father John 1 lay my sovereign commands on you to present your- self and Dr. Horseman at Castle Gregory to-morrow." ''And Kate you must put in a good word fot liie," said the Captain, looking good- bunioredly at the Doctor. *' But never mind, we'll settle all that to-morrow ; let us now proceed to business. Come in, gentlemen, we have some spare seats on the bench. Ho there, police ! make way, make way. Come in, there's quite an interest- ing case in court." As the parties took their seats apd look- ed found the room, the first object that arfe;stedlheir attention was the nej;rQ. He TTM j^tditding in the witness box apparently iwaiting tlie retorn of Ihc^ presiding; magis- trate to resume his examination. On the right of the bench and immediately below it sat the cabin-boy, wrapped in a thick blue blouse, and looking pale and emaciat- ed after his sickness. Beyond him, and near the dock in which Ilandall Barry stood, shackled and guarded by two con- stables, appeared the tall form of Else Cur- ley. She was seated on one of the steps leading up to the jury room, the hood of her cloak, as usual, drawn over her head, with the white elf locks visible beneath it. But the object which appeared to attract every eye, and challenge universal attea- ticn, was the noble, manly figure of the young outlaw, as he stood before his judges, awaiting his trial, his left arm in a ^ling, and his right bound by a chain running round his waist and fastened by a pad-lock in front. Randall Barry was now in his twenty- fifth year, but misfortune and disappoint- ment had cast a shade of melancholy on his countenance that made him look several years older. His face was eminently hand- some, and his person tall and muscular. — Though far from being robust, his limbs were well moulded and evidently capable of great physical exertion. As he stood '■ ^ ♦he dock, his dark eye wandered slowly o. . the multitude, resting qow and then for a moment on those he recognized. But «7hen Kate Petersham appeared and took the place assigned to her by the clerk of the court, he glared at her sharply for an instant, and then as she raised her jeyes to his, bent his head and blushed at the thought of his degradation. But to return to the negro. " Your name is Sambo ?" resumed Cap- tain Petersham, addressing the witness. " Ees, massa." « Sambo what ]" " Nigger Sambo." ," You're a negro — that's pretty evident -r-but what's your surname 1" " Don't know what that is, massa." « What are you called ? — Sambo Smitlft or Samb you've s «;<$, " you have made a very grave and serious charge here in open court against one of my brother ma- gistrates; no less a charge indeed than of conspiring with another individual here pre- sent to entice, seduce or carry. off, by fair means or foul, a highly accomplished and amiable young lady. Miss Mary Lee, of Araheera-Head. I now call on you to substantiate that charge or confess yourself guilty of a foul and malicious slander." *1 Slander !" repeated Else, drawing her- self up and looking round the audience ; "I niver was guilty of slander in my life. Vm now four score years and more ; thirty of t^em I spent in the wilds of Benraven un- der the foul name of witch and devils-dam j but whereas the man or woman here ever knew Else Curley to tell a lie or slander a beighbor if there is let them spake. What I am, that man there on the bench has made me. For these long and weary thirty jciars he stood between the lidit of heaven and me, and yit though I niver expect to see God but in anger, I wud'nt tell a lie to send him to the gallows." There is some never could fa- As Else uttered these words her^ look was calm and defiant, and she stood erect as a statue, with her arms folded on her brown bare breast, and her deep gray eyes fixed on Kobert llnrdtVrinkle. The spectators gazed on her silent as- tonishment. Her mien, her attilude, but above all the dignity with which she spoke^ struck them as eittraordinary in a woman of her character and years. ^* She has seen better days, that old creature," observed Horseman, turning to the priest. " Ay, so report says, mystery about her, too, I thorn." " But on ivhat grounds," again demand- ed the Captain, "have you made this charge against Mr. Hardwrindle ?" " Humph ! grounds enough, sir, grounds enough. First ask the sheriff there to pro- duce the promissory note Mr. Lee's now arrested for." ** My jurisdiction don't extend so far, my good woman," said the Captain. ** If the gentleman, however, chooses " " Certainly sir," replied the latter, ** cer- tainly ; I can see no objection." ** Well, I guess you might as well not mind it just now," drawled ont "Vl^eeks, who h^d resumed his former seat and kept whittling his pencil, leaning back againsl the partition. **Howso?" ** Well, I object to the production of the note— that's all." '* The objection don't bold, sir — the note' being now in possession of the ci>A court,''* responded the sheriff, handing the document up to the bench. ** Hah I" exclaimed the chairman as he read it over. " This note's drawn in fa- vor of Steven C. Ingoldsby— and endorsed by Robert Hardwrinkle to Ephraim C. B. Weeks — with interest added up to 13 — . Witness, how does this date correspond with Weeks' arrival at Crohan ?" " He was here two weeks to a day. A CHRONICLE OF iNNISHOWEIf. 169 |)romp(ly responded Else —just time enough for his cousin there to go to Dublin and ferret out Mr. Lee's creditors." " You're of opinion, then," said the Cap- tain, " that Mr. Hardwrinkle bought up this note and endorsed it to Weeks as a means of coercing Miss Lee to marry him through fear of her UQcle's incarcera- tion ?" « I am." " Still, my good woman," observed a lit- tle red-faced man on the right of the chair- ^man, "you hare not given us proofs yet that Mr. Weeks proposed marriage at all to the young lady in question." « Proofs !" repeated Else, running her jband into her bosom and drawing out a pile .of letters. ** Proofs — there's proofs enough ^ere 1" " Ht)w came you by these letters 1" ** Weeks gaye them to me to deliver to Miss Lee." " A,hT-and yo^ delivered them 1" « No J I kept them." ** And told Mr. Weeks, no doubt, thut you handed them to the young lady 1" ** That 'id be a lie if £ did," respon^efl the old woman ; " and you heard qie sw.^ar I niver told a lie in my life." "So Miss Lee never saw these letters 1" pursued the little red-faced man, apparently somewhat discomfited by his failure jn the attempt to break down the witness' testi- iinony. " She never saw them t" " Saw them — humph !" ejaculated "Eke, .contemptuously. " No, no ; it 'd ill be- .come the daughter of AV'illiani Talbot to touch the love-letters of such a scare-crow .as that ;" and her finger pointed to the Yan- kee as she spoke. " Hand me these letters," said the Cap- tain — " hand them over here ; we must see what they look like." After running his eye over the contents of one or two of them, taken at random ifrom the parcel, he turned to Weeks and requested to know from that gentleman i^^hether.he nqknowledged the authorship, and if so, had he any objecitioB (o h&v the letters read in court. Weeks hesitated for a moment, at tlois what reply to make. He had a great temptation to disavow the letters altogtther, if he could do so with impujoity; but he feared he could not, and to fail in the at- tempt would only cover him with greater shame and confusion than ever; "You have heard the question, Mr. Weeks?" "What! about writing these letters 1'* u Yes !» << Oh ! I acknowledge the hull, of course, right straight off. I guess I haint got nothing in them to be ashamed of, have 1 1 Well, tlie hull amount of it is, I sorter like the girl." " Just so, sir." ^* There's no treason in that, I reckon.** "Certainly not." " As for the lady been of gentle blood, and all that sorter thing, why it's all right ,enough I guess over here in this old coun- try of yourn. And so folks round here may think perhaps a Yankee merchant like me aint good, enough match for her ; but I tell ye yrhat, gents," ,he continued, rising to his feet and thrusting his hands down into his breeches pockets — " I tell yon what, Pm the son of an old revolutionist, and I've got a notion that the descendant of one of ,^ese same old heroes is about good enough for any Irish girl ever walked in shoe lieather. I may be wrong, gents, but them's mj sen- timents notwithstanding." >* Witness," resumed the chairmim» with- out appearing to take muAh notice of Weeks.: "witness, since the gentleman acknowledges having written these letters and made honorable proposals therein, what can you i^how as .disreputable in his conduct or that of his cousin, Mr. Hardf wrinkle, respecting the .o:«rer,ture of marri- age f " « Was'nt it the act of a mane, deaignin villian," responded Else, " to try to en- thraj;) a girl of her years into .marnage tp r no THE LADT OF THi: BBACON OF ARA1IC£11A. i ■are her unc!e from hff^gary or n jail, when he knew her to be the heiress of William Talbot, now livin iu the United States 1" Mary started as the sudden announcement .feU upon her ear. : ** Hush, hush !" whispered Kate j " keep qniet for a moment." "Oh my God, my God !" she murmur- ed — "what do J hear! my father still living ! Oh ! mother of mercy, can this be true!" The light-keeper glanced at the chair- man and then at the witness, as if he feared the old woman's wits were wandering ; and the priest, turning to Dr. Horseman quietly observ.ed " that things were beginning to assume a new complexion." " Else Curley, be careful what words Jrou utter here," said the Captain, anxious- y looking down at the two young friends, now folded lovingly in each others arms. — " You may have excited hopes, perhaps, which never will be realized. On what authority do yo make that assertion ?" " What, that William Talbot is still liv- ing r' " Yes." " Plenty of authorities : first and foremost that rosary there in the priest's hand ; then the draggin up of that poor cabin-boy un- der a warrant, for fear he'd tell the sacret when he'd recover ; and last of all, the con- demned look on that dark, dismal counten- ance there beside ye." Hardwrinkle raised his bead and smiled at the old woman, but it was a smile so ghastly that the spectators felt chilled by its death-like expression. "Hah! ye smile," said Else ; " ye smile, and well ye may, for you're the bloodsuck- , er and I'm the victim. Ye hunted me long, and run me down at last. From crag to crag ye hunted me, and from peak to peak -*-from the mountain to the glen ye hunted .tMf and from the glen to the prison. Ay, ye bunted me and ye famished me, and ye robbed me of my sowl at last. Ay, ay, well ye smile at the rack and ruin yeVe made ; but bide yer time, bide yer time>— it'.s a long lane has no turn. That hellish smile can't last always: and ma} be yer time is shorter nor ye think tor, too. The hand of God may reach ye yit afore death reaches me. Bide yer time ! — onct I thought I cud nivcr die till I seen yer corpse at my feet and my heel on its neck ; but heaven, it seems, or fate, will have it other- ways. There's but one bein livin cud save I ye from my vengeance, and there she's now," cried the speaker, turning to Mary Lee — " that very girl there — that spotless child, that ye tried to make the victim of yer cold-blooded villainy, has three times saved yer life " " Woman, woman !" shouted the chair- man at the top of his voice, after several fruitless attempts to silence her ; '' Woman ! woman ! stop, stop — I shall commit you if you don't desist instantly." ^Pshaugh!" exclaimed Else; "what care I for your committal. But go on, go on, Captain — put yer questions, and Pll an- swer them." " You say this rosary is a proof that Mr. Talbot is still living — how do you explain that?" " Aisy enough. That rosary is the pro- perty of William Talbot, and the boy here must have received or stolen it from itn owner when he left Virginia three months ago. Call up Rodger O'Shaughnessy — be can identify it." " Is Rodger O'Shaughnessy in court ]" enquired the Captain. " Witness, you may remain as you aie." ' " Ahem ! yes, please, yer honor," re- sponded Rodger, rising and making a pro- found obeisance to the bench. " Have you any objection to be sworn in this case t" " Not the laste in the world, yer honor." " Clerk, swear him where he stands." After the usual solemnity of taking the oath, Rodger raised his hands and smooth- ed down hi& few remaining white hair^^i over (be collar then look if to say be afraid lured the "Witr is your n: "Rod "You bot's fam « 1 wai at Castle bots, and many mo « Cler Rodgc ly from t bis spect( his handk them to "Wei after a article h( " I hai "In w "In ^ father's, « Did « I di( session o wards in Mary I was take by the ^ testfied 1 her fostl "Can in your 1 lost rec belonge< "I sv "Hoi 80 much «Ah< " they'r honor. the jew( be men< A CHRONICLE OF INNI8H0WGN. ni I ruin ye're yer time^— That hellish d ma) be yer r, too. The afore death le ! — onct I in yer corpse ts neck ; but lave it other- ivincud save ! there she's ng to Mary that spotless le victim of I three times I the chair- after several ; " ivoman ! nmit you if Ise; "what Jt go on, go ) and I'll an- DofthatMr. you explain J is the pro- he boy here I it from its iree months ;hnessy — he in court]" itness, you ibnor," re- ning a pro- I be sworn jrer honor." stands." taking the id smooth- \ hairs over the collar of his old bottle green coat, and then looked across at his young mistress, as if to say to her in as many words, << don't be afraid, my child ; I'll say nothing to in- jured the credit of the family." "Witness," begau the chairman,'* what is your name t" " Rodger James O'Shaughnessy, sir." « You have been a servant in Mr. Tal- bot's family — how long 1" " I was forty years steward and butler at Castle the family seat of the Tal- bots, and my father before me for nearly as many inore." ^ " Clerk, hand him that rosary." Rodgnr took the precious relic reverent- ly from the clerk's hand, and drawing out his spectacles, deliberately wiped them with his handkerchief, and th^n slowly adjusted them to examine the rosary. « Well, sir," demanded the chairman, after a long pause, " have you seen that article l)efore 1" " I have, sir, a hundred times." <' In whose possession ?" « In Mr. William Talbot's, and in his father's, Edward Talbot's, of Castle " " Did you ever see another like it ^" <* I did, sir ; the fellow of it, in the pos- session ot Edward Talbot's lady, and after- wards in that of her daughter-in-law, Miss Mary Lee's mother, from whose neck it was taken after the wreck of the Saldana, by the witness, Else Curley (as she often testfied to me), and placed on the neck of her fosther child here present." " Can you swear the rosary you now hold in your hand is not the rosary Miss Lee lost recently, but that which at one time belonged to her father ?" " I swear it." " How can you do so, when the two are 80 much alike ]" " Ahem, ahem !" ejaculated Rodger, « they're like one another to^be sure, yer honor. But I carried this rosary twict to the jeweller in Cork with my own hands, to be mended, and can take my oath to the mark of the crack here yet unJcr the arm of the crucifix." " Very well, sir, that's sufficient on that point ; and noir let me ask you another question in connection with this rosary : JL)o you think, from what you have known of William Talbot's disposition, he would be likely to part with this rosary — give it as a present, for instance, to this boy ?" " Ahem I yer honor," responded Rodger, "I didn't think so once, anyway — the night bis father died, when he called mas- ter William to his bed side, and throwin the rosary round his neck, cautioned him never to part with it, as long as he lived, for there was a blessin in it, and he'd find it, and he'd find it out some time before he died. I bequathe it to ye, my son, siz he, as the best legacy I can lave ye. (Since the Duchess of Orleans gave it to me as an acknowledgment for saving her life at the Virgin's chapel at Aix, I niver yet went to sleep without telling those beads. I hope, my dear boy, you will follow your old fa- ther's example. Ahem ! I was present ray- self, yer honor, standin by when that hap- pened, and if I could judge by master Wil- liam's vows and promises that night, I might safely say, he'd never be likely to part with it vrfiilingly-" " From the Duchess of Orleans, did you sayl" ** Ahem, yes sir," responded Rodger. — "Her Grace gave one to Mr. Edward Talbot and the fellow of it to his lady, at Vairsells, with her own hands. I heerd the old master tell the story to the lords and ladies many an evening at Castle . " ■'» But sure, yer honor, that's neither here or there, now ; ahem ! these old times can never come back again again. Och I ocb ! it's little I thought once when I used to see as many as seventeen lords and ladies of the best blood in the land seated in the great dining hall at Castle ^" « Well, well, Rodger, we mustn't talk of tl»ese things now," interrupted the Cap- tain. " You must remember you're on 172 THE LADr OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. your oath." " Ay, ay, I had almost forgot that," said the old man. " But I'm ould, yer honor, ye know, and my memory's not just so good as it used to be." " It's now nearly twenty years since Mr. William Talbot was last seen in England — is it not?" " Ahem ! ahem t" ejaculated Rodger, pausing for a moment to recollect himself, ** ahem, no sir, it's nof so long as that ; no, it's jusC eighteen years ago come next Michaelmas since he fought the duel, and we niver seen him more after that night." « Nor heard of him ?" " No, sir. Some thought he crossed over to France, and some t bought he went out to America — but no one could ever tell. — For a long time we expected he'd write home, but no letter ever came, and then we began to think he heerd of his wife been lost, with the rest of the passengers of the Saldana, and made up his mind to bury him- self in some distant country for the rest of liis life." "Gentlemen," said the chairman, *d- 4lr«ssing,his brethren of the bench, '< per- haps you wish to examine the witness fur- ther." No one seemed inclined, however, to in- terfere^ and then the chairman turned to Father ^rennftn and his learned companion, and observed somewhat quaintly, that the history of the rosary was a very interesting one, and likely ,to involve .important conse- ijuences. " Important for your young friend here," fuid the priest, in repJy. *^ Her tender de- Totion to the Mother of God, and hereon- jstant practice of saying the ro^iry, will ,«oon find their reward; I trust, in tuy tain, " hoi amount of « That' Und I'm pla2e ye : tleman th tiered, an band's ea count ou go." T'je sli laid them the amou cution, h( ed the do money o\ While whole au one exp neighbor, charactei should th much to the hand: himself ' and thp and shoo some mii sheriff v his pock to strike detector one of tl **Hui of consi pec ted s note of — I f eai «To< woman- if the fr they're "An A CHRONICLE bf iNNISHOWEiX. 173 er IS c.ertainFjr ooks vfiry Ijjke "Tojudgi would suppose ne liand in it, ough tlie busj. er or we shall ' he coatinueii ion, "I have efore I dismiss lat day it was but I think it r. Weeks paid se.'* Du think — yo^ lat— but Miss » (nomeot— -at a r for her testif i expose her to r suffer the cirr ) and .come to the cabin-bojr I deliberation, rrupted by the begged to be trisoQer as sooa the afternoon, jail some six le debtr de^ the Captain, ! sheriff. "Mr. night in your m much is tht for an instant sum. se, riuining her f her dress and mph, the sum's ere tp pay it, h's mope/ M Urood as the queen's if it's current 1 . Mr. Weeks there wiM tell ye these notes is fresh fiom the bank j" and the old womaa smiled faintly as she spoke. « Why, how*s this ?'* demanded the Cap- tain, "how did you come by this large amount of mbney ]" « That's not a fair question, Captain, ilnd I'm not bound to answer it ; but to pla2e ye : I got j£80 of it from that gen- tjeman there, Mr. Weeks, for sarvices ren- itered, an the rest I saved from my hus- band's earnins. Here, Misther Sheriff, count out yer money and let the prisoner go." T'ie sheriff took the bills and gold and laid them on the table ; then counting over the amount marked on the back of the exe- cution, he receipted for the same, and hand-^ ed the document with the balance of the money over to the witness. While this transaction was passing the whole audience seemed in commotion, every one expressing his astonishment to his neighbor, that a woman of so infamous a character as the fortune-teller of the Cairn, should thus part with the gold she loved so much to save a comparative stranger from the hands of the law. (^ven the ligbr-keeper himself was taken completely by surprise, and thp magistrates looked at one another and shook their heads as if they suspected some mischief at the bottom of it. As the sheriff was about to consign the bills to his pocket-book) a sudden thought seemed to strike him, and drawing out a small bank detector he laid it before him, and took up one of the notes to examine it. " Humph !" he ejaculated, after a pause of considerable length ; I might have sus- pected as much. Witness, let me see that note of hand and execution for a moment — I fear I made a mistake." " Too late, sheriff," responded the old woman — " I tore them in pieces ; but sure if the fragments 'd be of any use to ye, they're here at my feet." " Anj'thing wrong ?" inquired the chair- man. '^ Yes, sir ; the notes are cotinterfeits on the bank of Dublin. " Counterfeits ! Is it possible^ — ^yoa as- tonish ^e.'* « Not a doubt of it, sir. The Doblin Bank in its last circular cautions the public against tens and twenties counterfeits of iti new plates ; and here," he added, handing the detector and one of the notes up to the bench, " you can see in an instant that the plate is a forgery." The Captain examined it for a moment, Sind then turning to the witness de- manded to know if she could affirm on oath these notes were given to her by Mr* Weeks. V' I protest against putting that question to a woman always of disreputable charac- ter," cried Hardwrinkle, " and now this moment convicted of an attempt to pass counterfeit money, I object to this ques- Those of the spectators within bearing of this unexpected disclosure who happen- ed to have had any dealings with Weeks during his short stay in the neighborhood, now began to feel alarmed ; and one of them a dealer in dry goods, who had fur- nished him with fishing tackle, gaffs, laud- ing nets, and so forth, stood up and begged to inform the bench that he had now in bis possession a bank note from Weeks in pay- ment for goods delivered, and prayed the chairman to exa^mine it. The latter took the paper, and after looking at it for a moment pronounced it an impression from the same plate as the rest. " Here's another, plase yer honor," cried a little tailor, who had mounted on the shoulders of his neighbors, and flourished a bill over the heads of the audience ; " here's another I got from Mr. Hard- wrinkle there, and I'm afeerd it's o. the same family." Send it up." The tailor's note, like the haberdasher's^ 174 THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. on examination proved also to be a coun- terfeit. " Clerk," said the Captain, " make out ft warrant instantly for the arrest of Eph- raim C. B. Weeks, in the name of the Queen, on a charge of having issued and at- tempted to pass counterfeit money." " And I," said the light-house, " as guar- dian of my niece Mary Lee, charge Eph- raim C. B. Weeks with having stolen a rosary from my house at Araheera-Head, the property of the said Mfiry Lee." " Clerk, when you have made out the warrant, take Mr. Lee's deposition. Wit- ness," he added, motioning to Else Curley, ^* you have done — you may retire." " Ay, ay," muttered Else, drawing the hood of her old gray cloak over her h#ad OS she turned to leave the witness' stand ; ** I'll retire now, but there's more work to the m- be done yit afore the sun sets. Let wrong doers luck to themselves." " Hold, woman ! for whom is that tended?" demanded Hardwrinkle. " Ask yer own conscience," replied Else, turning on her step and castinglback a look ot intense hatred at her persecutor ; " ask yer own conscience, if ye have any left. All I say to ye now, Robert Hard- wrinkle — luck to yerself, for God will soon call ye to yer reckonin ;" and so saying, the old woman slowly descended the steps, and silently took her place close by the dock where Randall Barry stood patiently await- ing his doom. , The reader, perhaps, may think it strange that such insulting language as Else Curley uttered during her examination should have been permitted in a court of justice ; but it must be remembered that Else bore tne reputation of witch and sorceress, and in that character cinimedfor herself privileges and immunities which no ordinary woman would dare to aspire to. Besides, she was well aware that as long as Captain Peter- sham presided in court she had little reason to fear Hardwrinkle's resentment. In ad- dition to all this, however, Else Cuiley was naturally a bold, fearless woman. Hep look, her speech, her very gait proclaimed her such the moment she appeared. Super- cilious to her equals amongst the peasants, she was on the other hand as arrogant in her intercourse with those above her; and •very likely had the judges of assize presid- ed in that court-house, surrounded by all , the pomp and circumstance of supreme judicial j)Ower, instead of humble county magistrates. Else's conduct towards Hard- wrinkle would have undergone but little change. " Constable," said the Captain after Else had retired ; " here, take this warrant and arrert the body of Ephraim C. B. Weeks, now in court, and keep the same in close custody till you receive further or- ders. Miss Lee," he continued, "I regret exceedingly to be obliged to call on you for testimory in this case, or rather that your uncle's deposition just made requires it. But you will perceive it's a matter of grave importance, and needs a thorough and patient investigation. Have the good- ness, if you please, to take the witness' stand." As Ma: 7 rose and advanced to the stand, a^s, her whole frame leaning on Kate's trembled, aud her fieart seemed to sink within her at the thought of being exposed and questioned before so many spectators. In passing the dock where Randall Barry stood shackled, patiently av«'aiting his trial, she raised her handkerchief to her face un- der her veil, as if to hide it more effectual- ly from her lover's gaze, and timidly as- cended the platform. The moment the audience saw the grace- ful figure of the young girl and^ heard it whispered about she was the light-keeper's daughter, a general rush was made in the direction of the bench. Those in front forced their way along the passages on either side the counsel table, and despite the threats and efforts of both policemen and magistrates, succeeded in obtaining position where they could behold the far-famed beauty of In the wrinkle r( reinforcei A poli« « Ther maintain outside." « Whv exclaime( these mer " I api duty to " A ri( « Trul informatic able man istence of sonerin t so appreh I deeme( put in iro «Wha fore the 1 ed the Cj law. «S ter with « Brok " Brok «^y a the day c «Whj « Yes, "And all. Ho er." « Capi must pre « Proi unbind ti tain, as unbind h chains, s outrage lander c age tyra «Ex( A CHROiMCLE OP INNlSHOWEN. 175 woman. Her lit proclaimed eared. Super- t the peasants, is arrogant in ova her; and assize presid- ounded by all , I of supreme lumble county wards Hard- one but little Captain after e this warrant )hraim C. B. eep the same ive further or- ued, "I regret call on you or rather that nade requires s a matter of s a thorough 'ave the good-. 1 the witness' J to the stand, whole frame ^erned to sink teing exposed y spectators, iandall Barry ting his trial, ) her face un- ore effectual- nd timidly as- aw the grace- and- heard it light-keeper's made in the lose in front ages on either despite the olicemen and ining position le far-famed beauty of Araheera-Head. In the midst of this commotion Hard- wrinkle rose and demanded to know if the reinforcement he sent for had^arrived. A policeman replied in the affirmative. " Then send up half a dozen here to maintain order — the rest may remain outside." « Wiiy ! how now ! Mr. Hardwrinkle," exclaimed the Captain. " You ordered these men here without my knowledge." " I apprehended a riot, sir, and felt it my duty to order them." « A riot !" " Truly, yes ; I have received private information to that effect. A very respect- able man assured me yesterday of the ex- istence of a conspiracy to rescue the pri- soner in the even^ of his committal. Indeed, so apprehensive have I felt ever since, that I deemed it prudent to have the prisoner put in irons." *' What, sir ! shackled in court, and be- fore the law declares him guilty," exclaim- ed the Captain, glancing at the young out- law. " Soh ho ! prisoner, what's the mat- ter with your arms — eh, in a sling.?" " Broken, sir," responded the prisoner. " Broken — how so ?" "*By a musket ball from a policeman on the day of my arrest." « What ! fired at you .?" ,,! i ., " Yes, it seems so." " And then chained you, broken arm and all. Ho there, guard ! unbind the prison- j) er. " Captain Petersham, allow me — I really must protest," began Hardwrinkle. " Protest the d , sir. Constable, unbind the prisoner," thundered the Cap- tain, as the fellow appeared to hesitate — unbind him instantly, or by — ; off with the chains, sir. Gentlemen," he added, '' this outrage is insufferable. A South Sea Is- lander could hardly be guilty of such sav- age tyranny as this." " Excuse me, Captain ?" said Hardwrin- W kle. " No, sir ; ] shall not excuse. I vow to heaven, sir, this is the most inhuman treat- ment I ever witnessed." " I was rather afraid," pleaded Hard- wrinkle. " What ! afraid of a man with a broken arm escaping from a guard of police. Sir, I regret that here in open court I feel obliged to reprimand you, and to tell you as plainly as I can speak it, that your con- duct in this matter is unbecoming. Silence there below — constable, drive back these people, and keep order in court." " Captain Petersham, after such insult- ing language you will not be surprised if 1 now inform you that in future I shall not sit with you on this bench. I should quit the court this moment but for the interest I feel in this trial. Were 1 not a man of peace, sir, your language would doubtless have been more guarded." " Not a whit, sir ; and as for your quit- ting the court, you would find it, perhaps, a little more difficult just now than you imagine." During this bye-play Mary Lee stood in the witness' box, her head slightly bent, and her hands resting on the edge of the stand. ra,v."'Your name is Mary Lee, is it not 1'* began the Captain, after silence was again restored. " Yes sir," replied the witness in accents barely audible. " Will the witness have the goodness to remove her veil ?" said Hardwrinkle. Mary trembled as she heard the words, but made no motion to comply with the order. " I must insist upon it," said Hardwrin- kle, " however painful." " Miss Lee 1 fear you must satisfy the gentleman in this matter," said the Cap- tain. " According to the rules of the court the witness should uncover the face during examination." Mary then slowly raised the; veil and 176 THE LADY OF THE BEACON OF AUAHEEllA. 2 -al II ! laid it genlly over l»er shoulder. As she did a murmur of admiration broke fron the audience, like that we have heard in public assemblies when the covering is taken from the face of a beautiful statue. The effect vras instantaneous ; every beholder seemed at the same moment to have felt the in- fluence of her charms. " God bless me ! how beautiful she is," exclaimed one of the magistrates on the bench, entirely unconscious of being heard, and gazing on her face as if he had been looking at a vision. And well he might gaze, for never saw he such a face before. Yet it was not in the features so perfiecily moulded by the pirjstic hand of nature that her beauty lay, but in the angelic blush and unaffected mo- desty with which her pure soul had so ra- diantly suffused them. Gentle reader, this beautiful creature was a child of Mary — an humble, gentle ser- vant of the mother of God. The perfec- tion of her features she had from nature, but that which defies all the art of the painter or the sculptor — that inexpressible charm which animated them — was the of religion. " Miss Lee, pray look at this and see if you can recognize it ?" resumed the Cap- tain, handing the rosary to a policeman. It was a silver beaded rosary, with a gold crucifix attached. " This is not mine, sir," replied Mary, after a moment's examination. " What reason have you to think so ?" " Mine had the initials of my mother's name engraved un the back ; this one has he letters W. F." " Any other marks by which you can dis- tinguish it "?" " The one I lost look much more worn than this, and the letters more illegible." " Just so— from constant use, I suppose," said the Captam good-humoredly, turning to the priest, Mary kept her eyes cast down; but said nolhin;^ in reply. gift "Don't blush, my child — don't blush; you love your religion, and you practise it. I wish to heaven we could all say as much. As to the devotion of the rosary — I mean the Catholic practice of praying to the Vir* gin Mary — I look upon it, through I'm very far from being a Catholic myself, as the most devotion in the world." " Thank you, Captain," said the priest; " thank you for your generous testimony. You'll find," he added, " before very long, there's a charm in the rosaryyou little sus- pected. The immaculate virgin, whom that spotlessj creature has so long served with such tender affection, will not suffer her love to go unrequited." " I don't know, but by the lord Harry," responded the burly Captain, " I'm begin- nmg to think there's some mysterious in- fluence at work ;" and he hitched his chair a little closer to the desk, as if he felt an increasing interest in the investigation. " And now, Miss Lee, can you inform the bench when you missed the rosary 1" « On the 12th of 5> " From what place ?" " I always kept it in an old family bible, to mark the page I had been reading last, and when I went to look for it there it was gone." " Did you acquaint the members of your family of the loss?" " I told jny uncle of it immediately." " Did you make a thorough search for it?" " Yes, sir ; we searched everywhere through the house." " Did you see Mr. Ephraim Weeks, here present, at the light-house on that day ?" « I did, sir." " Where — in what part of the house ?" " In the parlor, looking out of the win- dow." " Was it in that room you kept the bible in which the rosary was?" " Yes, sir." •* Did luiy other pcr;jcn visit the Mght- house on "A ge same time ♦ "Be aisy, avourneen," said somebody near the door ; " Be aisy now> and don't be tryin to soft soap us that way. Don't ye remimber the weddin at Ballymagahy ?" « Well, there !" exclaimed Weeks, sud- denly turning as the voice reached his ear. *• Who's that 1" demanded the Captain. ** By thunder ! if it ain't the tarnal rascal again. Well, I swow !" « Who ? who is he ?" " Lanty Kanlon, if he's alive," responded Weeks. " Impossible — the police are now in pur- suit of him." *' Weii, pursuit or not," replied Weeks, " if he's out of h — U that's he, or I ain't Ephraim C. B. Week«." " Police, see who that fellow is," cried the Captain. " Lanty Hanlon's the man, and no mis- take," repeated Weeks. " E could swear to his voice on the top of Mount Tom." " Ho there ! at the door below, has the detachment from Milford arrived ?" demaad- ed Hardwrinkle. The answer came up in the affirmative. " Then let search be made instantly for Lanty Hanlon. You, sergeant, hold a war- rant for his arrest — see that he escape not, at your peril." " What ! how's this !" demanded Cap- tain Petersham — " a reinforcement without my knowledge or consent ?" " I ordered it, su-, I repeat. I appre- hended a riot and rescue of the prisoner," replied Hardwrinkle. " Ha ! a rescue I" and the Captain turn- ed to look at the young outlaw. " He's a bold, daring fellow," pleaded Hardwrinkle, " and I feared he might at- tempt to escape." " Pshaugh ! pshaugli ! sir, your explana- tion only makes the matter worse. Your conduct's a disgrace to this bench, sir, and an outrage to the feelings of your brother magistrate!' ." " Hush ! hush ! Captain," remonstrated the priest, laying his hand on his arm and speaking low. " You must take another time and place to rebuke Mr. Hardwrin- kle." " No, sir, T shall not," replied the indig- nant Captain. " This is the proper time and place to rebuke him ; and I tell him now, here in open court, that his conduct throughout this whole affair has been both unchristian and ungentlemanly." "Captain Peteisliam, you know I'm a man of peace," said Hardwrinkle, " or you would hardly dare to utter such language here." " Peace — ay, the peace of the serpent ;" and the Captain turned on him such a look as might have withered him up. " I shall quit the court under protest," said Hardwrinkle, rising, " since neither the law nor the feelings of gentleman are respected here." " Not an inch," ejaculated the Captain. " Move but one step from where you stand, and I commit you.'' « What ! commit me 1" " Ay, you, sir, for conspiring with your worthy cousin there to carry off by force and violence the person of Mary Lee in an open boat from Araheera-rfead to Malin- ! more, in the event of her consenting to the i.iarriage. I have now, sir, in my posses- rAon due information to that effect, svrorn to by two of the very men you engaged to execute that damnable design." "The charge is false, sir, exd-'ined Hardwrinkle, but in tones so low and husky that the i "And sued the wrinkle's lost, the this very removed tect her but her O'Shaugl Here a the audie Hardwrii reply, ho flection had mad( with the tyr. Durinj the table driven d( apparent passing a drop's bl when the Mary L able reli and jingl no sign At leng and at again pi his defe « W to det?i ain't in man sh( Well, half de given a my trn show 1 The" ' duce ] full val iiidepe I'm r€ all. \iS^S^ aptain turn- (V. ow," pleaded le might at- our explana- orse. Your nch, sir, and rour brother remonstrated his arm and ake another Hardwria- ed the indig- proper time nd I tell him his conducfc s been both > know I'm a cie, " or you ich language he serpent ;" such a look ler protest," ince neither intleman are :he Captain, re you stand, I with your off by force •y Lee in an I to Malin- nting to the my posses- '^cct, sworn engaged to J excSp'Med Vf and husky A CIIRONIfiI.t: OF IMNIS^OWEN. 179 that the very sounds spoke his guilt. " And that no time might be lost," pur- sued the Captain, without noticing Hard- wrinkle's denial — " that no time might be lost, the young lady was to be carried off this very night, as soon as the sheriff had removed her uncle, and no one left to pro- tect her in that remote and desolate spot but her old and feeble servant, Rodger O'Shaughnessy." Here a murmur of indignation ran through the audience, and every eye turned on Hardwrinkle. That gentleman made no reply, however, but after a moment's re- flection c^uietly resumed his seat, as if he had made up his mind to bear his suffermgs with the patience and humility of a mar- tyr. During this interruption Weeks stood on the table, or platform rather, with his hands driven down mto his breeches pockets, and apparently as little concerned at what "was passing as if Hardwrinkle had not been * a drop's blood to him in the world.' Even when the charge of conspiring to carry off Mary Lee was made against that respect- able relation, he hitched up his shoulders and jingled the silver as usual, but showed no sign of either surprise or resentment. — At length, however, silence was restored, and at a nod from the chairman Weeks again pulled up his shirt collar and resumed his defence. Well, ladies and gents, I ain't a goin « to det?iin you long. No ; speech-making ain't in my line ; but still, you know, every man should be able to tell his own story. Well, as to this darn'd old critter here, half devil, half catamount, 1 guess I have given a pretty considerable fair account of my transaction with her — well, enough to show I hain't done her no wrong, any how. Then as to the dry goods man, let him pro- duce his bill, and if I uain't paid him the full value of his goods already in pure gold, independent ot the fifty dollar note, v/hy I'm ready to suffer the consequences, that's all. 1 caiklate, gents, to gnt; evpry man his due, but hang a copper more, and if I find a man tryin to impose on me, I man- age some how or other to pay him off in his own coin. I repeat it, gents, let thia dry goods man who supplied me with fish- ing tackle and all that sorter thing, let him stand up here and produce his bill ; that's plain talk, ain't it, gents ? Well, then, all that remains now is to account for my transaction with Mr. Hardwrinkle here about that note. It goes agin me to do it, it does, that's a fact ; but considering the the fix I've got into, I feel bound to go through with it. Mr. Hardwrinkle may feel a little put out about it, I guess, but he's here, you know, on his own soil, whills I'm a stranger, and nothing to depend on but the bare truth. Besides, this is about the last day, I reckon, I can spend conve- niently in this section of the country, and for the sake of New England, should like to leave it with a good name." " And why wudn't ye, asthore — by the powers ye earned it richly," said some one close by, in a stage whisper. " Faith, yer a credit to the country ye came from, avourneen.''^ " Silence, there," coinmanded the chair- man, hardly able to suppress a langh ; *^ si- lence, there, and respect the court." " Go ahead," cried Weeks, whoever you be J "go ahead, I'll wait till you've got through. I am't in no hurry." " Proceed, Mr. Weeks, and don't mind the fellow." " Well, the hull amount of the matter is, the note cost Mr. Hardwiinkle, nothing, not a cent ; he got it from a Dublin attor^ ney on commission, to make the most he could on't." Hardwrinkle here attempted to interrupt him, but the Captain interposed, and thgi speaker continued. *' I ain't surprised at Mr. Hardwrinkle^ gettin rilod, not a mite, for I swonnie '\\ looks kinder mean in me to talk so after- enjoying his hospitality j but I've got inta u sorter snarl, gents, you see, about thi* 180 THE LADT OF THE BEACON OF ARAHEERA. here marriage concern, and I must tell the truth, for I don't see any other chance of getting out of it. Well, then, to be plain about it, we had an understanding — Mr. Hardwrinkle and I had — vrell, it wai just like this : if we succeeded in getting rid of Lee by means of the note, and could then induce the young lady to marry right straight oiT, or if she refused, to carry her oif to the nearest place we could catch a vessel bound f6r the States ; I say if we succeeded in this, Mr. Hardwrinkle was to have $10,000 cash, and I run the risk of the note, succeed or fail." " Scoundrel !" ejaculated Hardwrinkle, lAssing the words between his teeth. "Gen- tlemen, this is the most outrageous false- hood »." "Pshaugh! hold on a bit — don't get riled, cousin Robert." *< But what could I expect," continued the latter, " when you're ignorant of the very first principles of religion 1" " Do say. Well, I never made much pretension about it, you know, cousin, and so you couldn't expect much from me in that line ; but for you, who's praying and reading thebible most part the time through the week and sabbath especially, why it was going it a leetle mite too strong to try do me out that no«.a, worn't it now, cousin Robert t By craokie, Bob, for a pious, God-fearing man, you're about as smart a one as I've seen since I left Connecticut — ^you are, I swow, no mistake about it. — But gents, I don't see no use in talking over the matter further. I was a goin to £ reduce Mr. Hardwrinkle's letters to me efore I left the States about this here marriage, to show you I ain't the only one to blame in the transaction ; but I guess it's just as well let the matter drop as it is.— • As regards the speculation I came here on, why all can be said about it is / failed — that's the amount of it. The fact is, gents, I always heard the Irish were an almighty green sort of folks, both at hum and abroad, and thought a Yankee, specially a Connoc- ticut Yankee, had nothing to do but go right straight along soon's he got among them ; but I 6nd now I made a mistake iii that respect. Jt ain't so, gents ; the Irish at hum ain't so green by a long chalk as some I've met in the States." " Nor all the Yankees so smart as they think," added the Captain, smiling. " Well, sometimes we get sniggled, you know, like the rest of folks. Well, it's just like this : we hain't got to our full growth yet, but give us fifty years more to get our eye-teeth cut, and I tell you what, Captain, I should like to see the foreigner then could come the blind side of us ; that man'd be a caution, I tell ye. As for Mr. Hardwrinkle here, I don't wonder he's smart, for he belongs to a pretty consider- able smart kmder family. Well, he's got a cousin in Ducksville name of Weeks, said to be about as smart a man as you can scare up in that section of the country^ and still he hain't been h hundred miles from home, I guess, all his life time." " Brother ot yours, I suppose ?" said the Captain. " Wll) no ; he ain't any relation of mine that I know of — an acquaintance, that'3 all." • " I thought being a Duckville man and a cousm of Mr, Hardwrinkle's here, he might be your brother, or cousin at least." " No, not exactly ; he's much about the same though, we've always been so intim-r ate. It was he first told me of his relations here, the Hardwrinkles." ♦< First told you," repeated the Captain. " What, did not you know that yourself already ?" " No, can't say I did." " Why, are you not Mr. Hardwrinkle's cousin 1" " Not that I know of," cjuietly responded Weeks. " And now to the prisoner in the dock — who demands his commital ^" inquired the Captain. " I do," responded Hardwrinkle ; " I demand it call serge As the wrinkle p you ever "Ihav «Wha| " Rant "Do tarn. « I do. «Wk "No stone's th « Gent quite unn fcxaminati seph Ban vernment, capture tl is offered to make, it so plea tal." " Fool pride has " Your you to m yourself,* proachful " He Ilardwrii and now with to ] " Hav vindicati hav«, W€ "Not young o» that wh crime, a suffer tb escape 1 * pose (ai eyes in\ Mary I h.d I < been th A CHRONICLE OF INNlSUoW£N. t8t do but go B got ainonjT L mistake in s J the Irish [)g chalk as mart as they ling. liggled, you Well, it's to our full lars more to 11 you what, le foreigner of us ; that As for Mr. fonder he's ly consider- ill, he'.<5 got of Weeks, 1 as you can lountry, and miles from ?" said the ion of mine ince, tbat'3 s man and a, 'e, he might ast." about the so intim-r lis relations n le Captain, lat yourself rdwrinkle'a r responded the dock — ) quired the nkle; «I demand it in the name of the State. Clerk,] the British government than I am Iiere on my native soil, uor cease for one single da/ of my life to compass its overthrow. After ' having failed in the attempt, I have bat one thing to regret — I should not speak of it now, perhaps—but " here his wordfl seemed choked in the utterance — ^. '^V.'V^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) (/ ■ <9 ^ /. /^ 4. fe, 1.0 1.1 ^1^ IS£ lis. «*■ I— II'-'* 1^ "' < 6" — ► Photographic Sdences Corporation \ ^ ^ k .\5 «5 O^ 23 WIST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716)872-4503 "% t/j 184^ THE LADr OF THE BEACOaV OF ARAIIEERA. fny hands." The horse dropped iDstantljr, for the ball had passed through his brain. And then rose a cheer wild and loud that made the very heavens rinff again, as Kandall was seen flying up the hill on Moll Pitcher, clear of all danger, his long black hair floating on the breeze, and his broken arm still visible in the sling. Whilst the crowd stood cheering and gazing after the young outlaw, Else Cur- ley followed by several of the constables hurried up where Hard wrinkle had fallen. Else was first on the ground. «Hah!" she cried, about to utter some maledic- tion, but suddenly stopped and bent down to gaze on the face of the fallen man. He was lying under the horse. " What's the matter — ^is he hurt ?" de- manded the constables. ^ Ay, he's hurt," responded Else, dryly. <« He don't -move— how's' that 1" ^ « He's dead !" « The horse, you mean." << Horse and man/' said Else, << they're both dead." The police, assisted by the country peo- ple, soon succeeded in relieving the body from 4:he weight which had fallen on it — but life was gone. The clay, indeed, was atill warm, but the soul had left it, to give ia its account at another tribunal. .i>*^ CHAPTER XXIX. Soon after the fatal accident related above had occurred. Captain Petersham ac- eompanied by his friends reached the spot and finding no life in the body, ordered it to be taken back to the court house and there await the pleasure of the family. <* How sudden and how shocking," ex- eliiraed the priest, << already gone to meet hisOod." f< It's a very deplorable accident, I must Bir. *< A daughter of one of my tenants — very well, send her up to Castle Gregory to- morrow or next day, I'll give her her out- fit. Send her up, and prepare yourself to leave, for you're not safe here an hour," " Captain," said a policeman, touching his cap, " Lanty Hani on, I fear, has es- caped." « Shouldn't doubt it, sir, in the least," replied the Captain. " By the lord Harry, sir, you should every man of you be drum- med out for a set of poltroons. Ten con- stables and couldn't make a single arrest. I shall see to it, sir. You have the Yan- kee still in custody, I trust." " No, sir, he has escaped also, in the confusion." "What! gone!" " Sir, he's no where to be found. This, I suspept, belongs to him, but — " "What's thati Ah! his silver card after him now. His detection at present would answer no purpose. Let him go. He hcs seen enough of Ireland without vi- siting our jails, I suspect, by this time," and saying, the Captain advanced to the ladies and suggested that all, mcluding the priest and Dr. Horseman, should spend the night at Castle Gregory. " You must excuse me," said Horseman, " 1 purpose leaving Derry to-morrow by the first boat for Liverpool.'* " That can't be," interrupted JCate, << you must give me an opportunitr to make up our quarrel. I shan't listen xo such a thing." " Impossible ;" said Horseman, " I shall quit Ireland to-morrow, without fail." " With very bad impressions of the country, I fear," said the Captain. " Humph !" responded the Doctor, shrugging his shoulcfers, " that's as it may be," and thanking the several parties for their hospitality during his short stay, bade them farewell, and pursued his way in the direction of the little inn of the mIU lage. Father John now begged to be excused also, but Kate and Mary soon preVaileii on him to bear them company, and taking the lioht-keeper's arm he followed the CaptaUi, supporting Mary aud Kate on either side, light-hearted and happy, to pay a visit to Uncle Jerry, and bring him also with them if possible to Castle Gregory where no doubt they should find Randall Barry, im- patiently awaiting their return. As they wended their way to Greep- mount, the Captain suddenly enquired of Kate where Else Curley had gone, and how she felt after the death of her old ene- my, Robert Hardwrinkle. "She's gone to Benraven," answered Kate, " and gone never to return till her body be carried to her sister's grave in the old church-yard at Mossmount. Her part- ing with Mary Lee, her foster child, was a melancholy one, and yet, though 1 thought ) 1 case. Well, sir, you needn't mind looking ' her heart would bwak, she nerer shed a 186 THE LADY QF THE B-EACON OF ARAHEERA. tear." " What an extraordinary woman she is — so relentless ; so full oi wild, ungovern- able passion at her years," observed the Captain. " Ah, she is no longer so now, Captain," replied Mary, " a child this moment could lead her round the world. The instant she saw Mr. Hardwrinkle dead, every fibre relaxed, and every feeling of passion and resentment left her heart. May the Com- forter of the afflicted, and the Help of the weak, guide and guard her steps to the tomb. She was kind to me. Captain, in my infancy — kind to me as a mother, and I would not her soul were lost for the wealth of worlds." " It shall not be lost, Mary, if I can help it," said the priest, catching the words. " God bless you, dear father for that kind word — it relieves my heart of a load of doubt and fear which has long oppressed it." " Had you seen the old solitary, Cap- tajn," said Kate, looking up in her brother's face, " had you seen her gazing over at the dead body and shaking her head so slowly and solemnly, you would have thought at once of these glorious words : He is dead and so h mine e?imityy POSTSCRIPT. The above is the story of Arahcera Light-house as it came into our hands. The author it setrtns had not finished it when he leTt Ireland, and was never after- wards able, on account of the rheumatism, to finish it here. But be that as it may, 'tis evident the tale wants another joint to finish it, and so being appointed his legatee, we have considered it no more than our duty to i^ake up the deficiency in the best way we can. First theii, it seems tlie meeting between Mr. Guirkie and Mary Lee was very af- fecting—so much so, indeed, that tbe Cap- tain, stout-hear^ccl and all as be is, after rubbing un his grizzly hair two or three times in quick succession, and plucking down his waistcoat as many more, was finally obliged to turn his face to the win- dow and whistle against the glass. Uncle Jerry's joy knew no bounds — he made Miss Lee sit on his knee, and he smoothed down his hair, and looked up in her face, and wept, and vowed and declared she was the very picture of her that was gone. Mrs. Motherly, poor woman, is said to have en- tered the parlor just at that time with her master's leggings to button them on, but seeing what she did see, turned short on her step, and drawing the door after her with a bang, quit the house instantly and was never heard of since. For the last fact I cannot vouch exactly — my own im- pression being that she did return once more, and even had a pension granted her by Mr. Guirkie for her faithful and ma- tronly services. As you are already aware the Captain entertained the party, Mr. Guirkie of course included, that night at Castle Gregory, and so far as I can learn, a merry night they had of it. Mary Lee and Randall Barry were married, as you might have expected, by flie good Father Brennan ; and Uncle Jerry, curious enough, is reported to have given away the bride. It is further as- serted, and on excellent authority, too, that the same gentleman, after slipping a check on the bank of Londonderry for £2,000 into Mary Lee's hand as a marri- age portion, instanly called on Kate to play the * Sailor's Hornpipe,' and danced with his hands on his sides till he fell back on the sofa, and there actually went to sleep from sheer exhaustion. Ten d&ys after the wedding,the Captain's yacht was seen weighing anchor at Bally- maslocken, and slowly moving up to the landing-place under the castle. Presently, a party of ladies and gentlemen issued from the vestibule of the old mansion and cross- ing the lawn, descended the bank of the rabbit-warren and stepped aboard. The A CHRONICLE OF INNISHOWEN. 187 more, was party consisted of the Captain and Kate, Randall and Mrs. Barry, Mr. Lee, Mr. Guirkie and Father Brennan. After a few minutes the latter came ashore, and waving his hat in adieu, the little Water Hen moved off gently from the wharf. She had not cleared it a cable's length, how- ever, when a brown water, spaniel, follow- ed by a tall old gray haired man, in a long skirted coat, was seen running down to the beach. The old man kept waving his hand as he hobbled along, but the dog who had reached the shore before him, sprang into the water and made for the little ves- sel, howling most piteously as he buffeted the waves. The yacht hove to for a mo- ment, the dog was lifted aboard, and then the old man apparently satisfied with what had taken place, fell on his knees and with uplifted hands seemed to pray fervent- ly for a happy voyage. Next day the Water Hen returned, but none of the party was seen to step ashore but Kate and the Captain. Where the others went to, no one he^e can tell. It is generally surmised, however, that the United States were their destination, and that Lanty Hanlon and his winsome wife Mary Kelly of the black hair, went ont with them, having been snugly ensconced under the Water Hen's hatches before she weighed anchor on the evening of her de- parture from Castle Gregory. Kodger O'Shaughnessy, now too infirm to venture on so long a voyage remains at the castle at his old occupation. Once or twice a week he burnishes up the old silver salver as usual, and tells how often it has served wine to the lads and ladies at Cas- tle Talbot. With respect to Ephraim C. B. Weeks — ^he was never seen but once after the trial, and that was at the Liverpool Packet Office in Derry. A friend of mine who was present at the time, assures me, he did nothing but curse Ireland << and all the darn'd Irish in it" from the time he entered the office to buy his ticket till he left it.— He swore *^ youldn't find such a tarnation set of varmint in almighty creation, and when he got t'other side of the big pond, if he worn't agoin to give them Jessie in the newspapers," and then lighting a cigar, he took his valise in the one hand and umbrella in the other and started for the boat. THE END. ■:■;