domain, as I may say, of the Romani populi, where Vargil hod his nativity cast—that is to say, was born.'

'Dear, dear! what knowledge you have, Mr. O'Flanagan !-and no wondher you'd laugh at me! But sure, no wondher at the same time, when I thought you wor talkin' of a portmantia, that I would wondher at a child bein' sent into the world in that manner.'

'Quite nath'ral, Mrs. O'More, my dear-quite nath'ral,' said Phelim.

'But, can you tell me

'To be sure I can,' said Phelim : 'what is it?'

I mane, would you tell me, Mr. O'Flanagan, is that the place portmantias come from?'

'Why, indeed, Mrs. O'More, it is likely, from the derrywation, that it is but, you see, these is small thrifles of histhory that is not worth the while o' great min to notice; and by reason o' that same we are left to our own conjectures in sitch matters.'

6

Dear, dear! Well-but, sir, did that gintleman you were talkin' about go a shootin'-that Mr. Varjuice ?——

'Vargil, Mrs. O'More-Var-gil,' said Phelim with authority. 'I beg his pard'n, and yours, sir.'

No offince, Mrs. O'More. Why, ma'am, as for goin' shootin', he did not-and for various raisons: guns was scarce in thim times, and gunpowdher was not in vogue, but was, by all accounts, atthributed to Friar Bacon posteriorly.'

'Oh, the dirty divils!' said the widow, 'to fry their bacon with gunpowdher!-that bates all I ever heerd.'

Phelim could not help laughing outright at the widow's mistake, and was about to explain, but she was a little annoyed at being laughed at, and Rory O'More and the Scholar, as he was called, having returned at the moment, she took the opportunity of retiring into the house, and left Phelim and his explanation a. the sportsuen all together.

CHAPTER II.

SHOWING HOW A JOURNEY MAY BE PERFORMED ON A GRIDIROY WITHOUT GOING AS FAR AS ST. LAURENCE.

THE arrival of Rory O'More and the Scholar having put an end to the colloquy of the widow and Phelim O'Flanagan, the reader may as well be informed, during the pause, who the person is already designated under the title of 'the Scholar.'

It was some weeks before the opening of our story that Rory O'More had gone to Dublin, for the transaction of some business connected with the lease of the little farm of the widow-if the few acres she held might be dignified with that name. There was only some very subordinate person on the spot to whom any communication on the subject could be made; for the agent, following the example of the lord of thesoil, was an absentee from the property as well as his employer;-the landlord residing principally in London, though deriving most of his income from Ireland, and the agent living in Dublin, making half-yearly visits to the tenantry, who never saw his face until he came to ask them for their rents. As it happened that it was in the six months' interregnum that the widow wished to arrange about her lease, she sent her son to Dublin for the purpose-For what's the use,' said she, 'of talking to that fellow that's down here, who can never give you a straight answer, but goes on with his gosther, and says he'll write about it, and will have word for you next time; and so keeps you goin' hither and thither, and all the time the thing is just where it was before, and never comes to anything?—So, Rory, dear, in God's name go off yourself and see the agint in Dublin, and get the rights of the thing out of his own mouth.' So Rory set out for Dublin, not without plenty of cautions from his mother to take care of himself in the town, for she heard it was the 'dickens' own place; and I'm told they're sich rogues there, that if you sleep with your mouth open, they'il stale the teeth out o' your head.’

'Faix, and maybe they'd find me like a weasel asleep,'answered Rory' asleep with my eyes open and if they have such a fancy for my teeth, maybe it's in the shape of a bite they'd get them.' For Rory had no small notion of his own sagacity.

The wonders of Dublin gave Rory, on his return, wide field for descanting upon, and made his hearers wonder in turn. But this is not the time nor place to touch on such matters. Suffice it here to say, Rory transacted his business in Dublin satisfactorily; and having done so, he mounted his outside place on one of the coaches from town, and found himself beside a slight, pale, but rather handsome young gentleman, perfectly free from anything of that repulsive bearing which sometimes too forcibly marks the distinction between the ranks of parties that may chance to meet in such promiscuous society as that which a public conveyance huddles together. He was perfectly accommodating to his fellowtravellers while they were shaking themselves down into their places, and on the journey he conversed freely with Rory on such subjects as the passing occurrences of the road suggested. This unaffected conduct won him ready esteem and liking from his humble neighbour, as in such cases it never fails to do: but its effect was heightened by the contrast which another passenger afforded, who seemed to consider it a great degradation to have a person in Rory's condition placed beside him; and he spoke in an offensive tone of remark to the person seated at the other side, and quite loud enough to be heard, of the assurance of the lower orders, and how hard it was to make low fellows understand how to keep their distance. To all this, Rory, with a great deal of tact, never made any reply, and to a casual observer would have seemed not to notice it; but to the searching eye of his pale companion, there was the quick and momentary quiver of indignation on the peasant's lip, and the compression of brow that denotes pain and anger, the more acute from their being concealed. But an occasion soon offered for this insolent and ill-bred fellow to make an open aggression upon Rory, which our hero returned with interest. After one of the stoppages on the road for refreshment, the passengers resumed their places, and the last to make his reappearance was this bashaw. On getting up to his seat, he said, 'Where's my coat?'

To this no one made any answer, and the question was soon repeated in a louder tone: 'Where's my coat?'

'Your coat, is it, sir?' said the coachman.

'Yes-my coat; do you know anything of it?'

'No, sir,' said the coachman; 'maybe you took it into the house with you.'

'No, I did not: I left it on the coach. And, by-the-bye,' sai he, looking at Rory, 'you were the only person who did not qui the coach-did you take it?'

‘Take what?' said Rory, with a peculiar emphasis and intonation on the what.

'My coat,' said the other, with extreme effrontery.

'I've a coat o' my own,' said Rory, with great composure. 'That's not an answer to my question,' said the other.

'I think you ought to be glad to get so quiet an answer,' said Rory.

'I think so too,' said the pale traveller.

'I did not address my conversation t, you sir,' said the swaggering gentleman.

'If you did, sir, you should have been lying in the middle of the road, now,' was the taunting rejoinder.

At this moment, a waiter made his appearance at the door of the inn, bearing the missing coat on his arm; and handing it up to the owner, he said, 'You left this behind you in the parlour, sir.'

The effect was what any one must anticipate: indignant eyes were turned on all sides upon, the person making so wanton an agression, and he himself seemed to stagger under the evidence against him. He scarcely knew what to do. After much stammering and hemming and hawing, he took the coat from the waiter, and turning to Rory, said, 'I see-I forgot-I thought that I left it on the coach :-but-a- I see, 'twas a

mistake.'

'Oh, make no apologies,' said Rory; 'we were both undher a mistake.'

'How both?' said the Don.

'Why, sir,' said Rory, 'you mistuk me for a thief, and I mistuk you for a gintleman.'

The swaggerer could not rally against the laugh this bitter repartee made against him, and he was effectually silenced for the rest of the journey.

Indeed, the conversation soon slackened on all sides, for it began to rain and it may be remarked, that under such circumstances travellers wrap up their minds and bodies at the same time; and once a man draws his nose inside the collar of his great-coat, it must be something much above the average of stage

coach pleasantry which will make him poke it out again-and spirits invariably fall as umbrellas rise.

But neither great-coats nor umbrellas were long proof against the torrents that soon fell, for these were not the days of macintosh and indiarubber.

Have you ever remarked, that on a sudden dash of rain the coachman immediately begins to whip his horses? So it was on the present occasion; and the more it rained, the faster he drove. Splash they went through thick and thin, as if velocity could have done them any good; and the rain, one might have thought, was vying with the coachinan-for the faster he drove, the faster it seemed to rain.

At last the passengers seated on the top began to feel their seats invaded by the flood that deluged the roof of the coach, just as they entered a town where there was change of horses to be made. The moment the coach stopped, Rory O'More jumped off, and said to the coachman, 'I'll be back with you before you go;-but don't start before I come;' and away he ran down the town.

'Faix, that's a sure way of being back before I go!' said the driver: but you'd betther not delay, my buck, or it's behind I'll lave you.'

While change was being made, the passengers endeavoured to procure wads of straw to sit upon, for the wet became more and more inconvenient; and at last all was ready for starting, and Rory had not yet returned. The horn was blown, and the coachman's patience was just worn out, when Rory hove in sight, splashing his way through the middle of the street, flourishing two gridirons over his head.

'Here I am,' said he, panting and nearly exhausted: "'faith, I'd a brave run for it!'

'Why, thin, what the dickens do you want here with gridirons ?' said the coachman.

'Oh, never mind,' said Rory; 'jist give me a wisp o' sthraw, and God bless you,' said he to one of the helpers who was standing by; and having got it, he scrambled up the coach, and said to his pale friend, 'Now, sir, we'll be comfortable.'

'I don't see much likelihood of it,' said his fellow-traveller. 'Why, look what I've got for you,' said Rory.