your infernal lodge to the house; why it's ten miles at least. Max. I'll do it in ten minutes any day. Sir H. Yes, in a steam-carriage. Cool, perfume my handkerchief. Max. Don't do it. Don't! perfume in the country! why it's high treason in the very face of Nature; 'tis introducing the robbed to the robber. Here are the sweets from which your fulsome essences are pilfered, and libelled with their names,-don't insult them too. Sir H. (To Meddle, who is by a rose-bush.) Oh! cull me a bouquet, my man! Max. (Turning.) Ah, Meddle! how are you? This is Lawyer Meddle. Sir H. Oh! I took him for one of your people. Meddle. Ah! naturally-um-Sir Harcourt Courtly, I have the honour to congratulate— happy occasion approaches. Ahem! I have no hesitation in saying this very happy occasion approaches. Sir H. Cool, is the conversation addressed towards me? Cool. I believe so, Sir Harcourt. Meddle. Oh, certainly! I was complimenting you. Sir H. Sir, you are very good: the honour is undeserved; but I am only in the habit of receiving compliments from the fairsex. Men's admiration is so d--ably insipid. (Crosses to Max, who is seated on a bench.) If the future Lady Courtly be visible at so unfashionable an hour as this, I shall beg to be intro duced. Sir H. Don't compare her to a horse. Max. Well, I wouldn't, but she's almost as fine a creature, close similarities. Meddle. Oh, very fine creature! Close similarity amounting to identity. Sir H. Good gracious, sir! What can a lawyer know about woman? Meddle. Everything. The consistorial court is fine study of the character, and I have no hesitation in saying that I have examined more women than Jenks orSir H. Oh, d- Jenks! Meddle. Sir, thank you. Enter GRACE. Grace. (Runs to him.) My dear uncle! Max. Ah, Grace! you little jade, come here. Sir H. (Eyeing her through his glass.) Oh, dear! she is a rural Venus! I'm astonished and delighted. Max. Won't you kiss your old uncle? (He kisses her.) Sir H. (Draws an agonizing face.) Oh!— ah-um!-N'importe !-my privilege in embryo-hem! It's very tantalizing though. Max. You are not glad to see me, you are not. (Kissing her.) Sir H. Oh! no, no, (aside) that is too much. I shall do something horrible presently if this goes on. (Aloud.) I should be sorry to curtail any little ebullition of affection; butahem! May I be permitted? Max. Of course you may. There, Grace, is Sir Harcourt, your husband that will be. Go to him, girl. (She curtseys.) charms, the presence of which have placed me Sir H. Permit me to do homage to the in sight of paradise. (Sir Harcourt and Grace retire.) Enter DAZZLE. Dazzle. Ah! old fellow, how are you? (Crosses Sir H. Dear me! who was addressing you? to him.) Meddle. Oh! I beg pardon. Max. Here, James! (Calling.) Enter JAMES. Tell Miss Grace to come here directly. [Exit James. Now prepare, Courtly, for, though I say it, she is with the exception of my bay mare Kitty the handsomest thing in the country. Considering she is a biped she is a wonder! Full of blood, sound wind and limb, plenty of bone, sweet coat, in fine condition, with a thorough-bred step, as dainty as a pet greyhound. VOL. IV. Max. I'm glad to see you! are you comfortably quartered yet, eh? Dazzle. Splendidly quartered! What a place you've got here! Why it's a palace. Here, Hamilton. Enter CHARLES COURTLY. COOL sees him and looks astonished. Permit me to introduce my friend, Augustus Hamilton. (Aside.) Capital fellow! drinks like a sieve, and rides like a thunder-storm. Max. (Crosses.) Sir, I'm devilish glad to see you. Here, Sir Harcourt, permit me to intro 75 duce to youcourt.) (Goes up stage to Sir Har- ing, that it for a moment-the equilibrium of my etiquette-'pon my life I-permit me to request your pardon. Courtly. The devil! Grace. Your son, Sir Harcourt! have you pledged—my hair. a son as old as that gentleman? Sir H. No-that is--a-yes,-not by twenty years-a-Charles, why don't you answer me, sir? Grace. (Aside.) If that security were called for, I suspect the answer would be-no effects. [Exit Sir Harcourt and Grace. Meddle. (To Max.) I have something very Courtly. (Aside to Dazzle.) What shall I particular to communicate. say? Dazzle. (Aside.) Deny your identity. Courtly. (Aside.) Capital!-(Pause they look at each other-aloud.) What's the matter, sir? Sir H. How came you down here, sir? Courtly. By one of Newman's best foursin twelve hours and a quarter. Sir H. Isn't your name Charles Courtly? Courtly. Not to my knowledge. Sir H. Do you mean to say you are usually called Augustus Hamilton? Courtly. Lamentable fact-and quite correct. Dazzle. How very odd! Sir H. Well, I never-Cool, is that my son? Cool. No, sir-that is not Mr. Charles-but is very like him. Max. I cannot understand all this. (Go up a Grace. (Aside.) I think I can. S little.) Dazzle. (Aside to Courtly.) Give him a touch of the indignant. Courtly. (Crosses.) Allow me to say what, Sir What-d'ye-call'em-Carthorse Hartly? Dazzle. Sir Walker Cartly. Sir H. Hartly, sir! Courtly, sir. Courtly! Courtly. Well, Hartley, or Court-heart, or whatever your name may be, I say your conduct is-a-a-, and was it not for the presence of this lady, I should feel inclined-toto-. Sir H. No, no, that can't be my son,-he never would address me in that way.--Sir, your likeness to my son Charles is so astonish [Exit. Max. Can't listen at present. Meddle. (To Dazzle and Courtly.) I can afford you information which I Dazzle. Oh, don't bother! { [Exeunt. Meddle. Now, I have no hesitation in saying that is the height of ingratitude.-Oh—Mr. Cool-can you oblige me. (Presents his account.) Cool. Why, what is all this? Meddle. Small account versus you to giving information concerning the last census of the population of Oldborough and vicinity, sixand-eightpence. Cool. Oh, you mean to make me pay this, do you? Meddle. Unconditionally. Cool. Well, I have no objection-the charge is fair-but remember, I am a servant on board wages, will you throw in a little advice gratis-if I give you the money. Meddle. Ahem!-I will. Cool. A fellow has insulted me. I want to abuse him-what terms are actionable? Meddle. You may call him anything you please, providing there are no witnesses. Cool. Oh, may I (Looks round.) Thenyou rascally pettifogging scoundrel! Meddle. Hallo! (Retreats.) Cool. (Following him.) You mean-dirtydisgrace to your profession. Meddle. Libel-slander-— Cool. (Going up, turns.) Aye, but where are your witnesses? Meddle. Give me the costs-six-and-eight- | narrow when seen in front; height, five-feet pence. eight; weight, 150 pounds, and not an ounce Cool. I deny that you gave me information of fat at that, all bone and sinew. Under a at all. Meddle. You do!. Cool. Yes, where are your witnesses? [Exit. Meddle. Ah-damme! I'm done at last! [Exit. ORIGIN OF "THE SHAUGHRAUN." A SKETCH FROM LIFE. "George, it is five o'clock! Let us get away from the course before the crowd of carriages encumber the road. Recollect, we must reach Dublin by half-past six." We were at Punchestown races, and I was announced to play the same evening in the "Colleen Bawn" at the Theatre Royal, Dublin. "She can do it," said George D- as he fondly patted the sleek coat of his mare, a splendid specimen of an Irish hunter, from whose quarters he had just slipped the rug. "I'll bet three pounds to one we are in College Green at six twenty." "I'd like to take that, yer honour," said a low, sweet voice, that seemed to come from under the animal. "Ha! is that yourself, Jack," said George, as he jumped into the dog-cart and gathered up the reins. "Do you think the mare cannot do it? You ought to know her better! She brought us down this morning in eighty-five minutes, and the whip never left the socket." "Then she'll not go back in three hours this night, barrin' she goes by rail," said the man, rising from the stooping posture and standing back as he looked at the beast's near foreleg. He was a lithe boy of some twenty years, dressed in a ragged scarlet coat, and an old black hunting cap, the cast-off suit of some whipper-in. One leg boasted a top-boot, on which a rusty spur was tied about his heel with a "taste of cord." On the other leg was the remainder of a Wellington boot. His breeches were like Joseph's coat of many colours; waistcoat and shirt he had none. The attire, pulled anyway about him, could not conceal one of those model shapes that Ireland alone contributes to the light cavalry of the English army. Broad in the shoulders, thin in the flank, his frame is what is vulgarly called "herring-gutted;" very long in the arms; the hips, when seen in profile, were broad, but shock of brown hair a broad beaming face defied delineation, for the features were constantly on the move. A mouth vigorous, large, full of gleaming teeth, seemed shrewd and mischievous, over which two blue eyes, under long, black brows, were like limpid wells of good nature and fun. "What's the matter with her leg, Jack?" ""Tisn't in the leg, yer honour, it's in the near fore fut. I watched her favourin' this whole day, and more betoken, it's hot as blazes round the coronet. I'm afeard, Master George, the crature has a touch o' the vickular.” "A touch of the navicular! Pooh! A touch of your grandmother! What do you know about it?" "I know why the gintleman wants to get back to Dublin so airly, God bless him," he added, touching his ragged cap. "Wasn't I in the gallery of the Royal last Saturday, and I seen him fish the 'Colleen Bawn' out of the water. Whoo! It bates Banagher! Gorra, but I'd like to have a"-here he made a plunge at the earth, and turning what is called “a wheel," bounded lightly on his feet with a yell. The mare sprang on one side, and rose into the air, while George uttered a volley of imprecations upon my admirer's voluble athletics. I threw the fellow half a sovereign, and the look of amazement and the parting gleam of gratitude that he shared between the coin and me was worth the money. "Confound the fool!" said my companion, as the animal plunged forward. "I nearly broke a trace. So! Jenny, so! What's the matter with you?" The mare was cantering, and he tried to shape her down to a trot. "That was a queer figure," said I. "He is well known about here,” replied George D--; "he's called Cantering Jack. There's not a fair or a race or a wedding, or any other public or private 'divarsion,' at which Jack is not to be found. Two years ago he rode this mare for me. (So, Jenny.) She was entered for the stakes, a steeplechase, and won me five hundred pounds. The scoundrel rides like a monkey, and has the light hand of a child." "Why is he called Cantering Jack?" "He lives under a hedge, and when he spies a carriage full of 'grandees,' Jack unstrings his fiddle, receives them with a wild dance, and will follow the carriage for miles, never failing to get sixpence sooner or later from the party. I have known him to run behind a dog-cart for twelve or fifteen miles, and never turn a hair or lose breath." By this time we had left the main road to avoid the vehicles, and had entered a side lane by which George D assured me the distance to Dublin was nearly a mile shorter than by the highway. After pursuing these lanes for nearly twenty minutes, the mare that had never settled down to a square trot, began to show the cause of her uneasiness. George brought her to a standstill, and after resting her a minute, started her at a walk. There remained no doubt the animal was lame. He got down to examine the leg, while I held the reins. After a few moments he went a score of yards ahead, and asked me to drive her gently toward him. I did so, and he leaped up beside me. the craythur might not last. You are not angry, sir, bekase I kep an eye on ye," said he, apologizing to George for his presence. "Don't stop to explain," he replied testily. "My friend must reach Dublin in fifty minutes. You know every foot of the road and every quadruped in the county. Can it be done? Can you 'beg, borrow, or steal' a horse that will carry him to town?" Jack ran his fingers under his ragged cap to scratch his head. "Well, to be sure," said he, after a moment's hesitation, "there's only one chance." "Make it a certainty, Jack,” I cried, "and I'll give you a five-pound note." "I'll thry, anyway," said the boy; "take off her harness quick, while I'm off to see what's to be done;" and he disappeared in the gloom. We stripped the mare and lighted the lamps "She has strained her fetlock; we must go of the dog-cart, and then, having no more quietly; this is very unfortunate.” to say nor else to do, we lighted cigars and waited. I did not like to add my anxiety to his annoyance, so I held my tongue, and began to measure anxiously the distance to the theatre, and the dismal consequences of arriving late. The lord-lieutenant had given a "command" on that night, and that means he was coming in state, with his court, in gala uniform, and escorted by a troop of cavalry. On such occasions all Dublin turns out, and every available seat in the theatre is filled. I recollected the j'ai failli attendre of Louis XIV., and felt proportionately uncomfortable. The brave beast struggled with her pain, but at last, and rather suddenly, as if she had concealed its acuteness, she broke down to a walk. Darkness had set in, and the last milestone said sixteen miles still lay between us and the city. We were miles from the turnpike, where I might have picked up some conveyance, or found a good-natured party returning home, who would give me a lift. I looked at my watch-it wanted twelve minutes to six. "Could I hire a horse from one of the farmers in the neighbourhood? Do you know where we are? Who lives near this place?" The condemned felon on the morning of his execution, listening for the approaching footsteps of his executioner, never strained his ears more anxiously than we stretched ours. Hope wanted four footsteps. Fear dreaded two. Hark! Minute after minute passed and seemed like hours. Hark! patter! patter! brush! a pause-a gate swings opens and closes to. "He has found a horse!" cried George. "If he had been alone he would have vaulted that gate and never stopped to open it. Here he comes!" Up the lane he came, leading a horse by the forelock. "Quick, now, for the love o' God. Slip the harness on him; gi' me the headstall; aisy wid them breechings, he is lively wid his heels." While Jack and I clothed the horse, the mare standing patiently by and thankfully quiet, George D-- took out one of the lamps to light our labours. "Good heavens, Jack! why I cannot be deceived. It is Mal" "Whisht, if ye please, sir. I made an oath to meself I'd land his honour there in Dublin before Misther Lavey would dhrop the flag to the fiddlers, and begorra I'll be good as the word." "I have no idea," replied my companion, so dejectedly I had not the heart to exhibit my despair. Darkness was increasing, and the first drops of rain began to patter on the leaves above us. "I do not know where we are or what to do. I'm fairly at my wit's end." The hedge that topped the bank skirting the road was divided above our heads, and a dark form bounded across the ditch, and Can-led to. Seizing the reins, Jack leaped to the tering Jack alighted beside us. "Long life to your honours. I was afraid George stood agape as Jack ran the light dog-cart shafts over the flanks of the horse, who shivered as he was tucked in and buck driver's seat, and I sprang up beside him. "Whew!" he uttered a low whistle, and the As we ap horse, with a snort and a plunge, went forward | outside cars before its door. proached it I saw the reins were tightening, "Ah, ye vagabone! ye ould thief o' the world! d'ye hear me talkin' to ye? Aisy, now, sure nobody wants to hurt the likes of ye. The Lord bless every bone in your skin." The canter settled down to a trot as we mounted a hill, from the top of which we saw the gaslights of Dublin sparkling in the distance. Then I drew a breath. By the light of my cigar I looked at my watch-it wanted thirty-three minutes to seven-we had done between eleven and twelve miles in under forty minutes. The horse was now tolerably quiet, settled down to work. "Now we are all right,” said I, as we turned into the broad turnpike road, bordered by gas-lamps and tolerably clear of vehicles. "Hould fast-he has never trod the stones nor seen a street; he's not aisy in his mindlook at his ears," whispered Jack; "don't spake, sir, if you please; I don't want him to know that any one else but meself is behind him." Jack was right, and all his soft voice and light hand could do, he barely kept the startled animal in the roadway; for he swerved in fright from right to left, and back again, as the brilliant glare of the shops startled him. "Surely it is some time since he was in shafts?" I whispered. "Bedad, your honour may say that, for to-night is the first time he ever felt a collar on him." Instinctively I gripped the rail, and I think I must have turned, if not white, at least drab. But the cigar I had been smoking slipped from my mouth, while I began to calculate the number of corners we had to turn, and the width of the streets through which we had to pass on our road to College Green. "Can you stop her? I'll take one of those cars," I said, as coolly as I could. "Never fear, sir; I'll dhrive ye all the way." "No, Jack, I prefer to release you now." “All right, your honour," and with a quick jerk he sawed the bit in the horse's mouth and pulled him upon his haunches. I leaped out and ran to his head. Jack was soon by my side. "Hold on to him awhile, sir. I'll pick you a man that will rowl you up to the Royal;" and he ran up to the group of drivers drinking at the door. Presently one of them jumped on to his car and came down to where I stood. "Now, Reilly, help me to get this harness off." The two men unloosed the harness, while Jack drew a "taste of a rope" out of his pocket, and quick as thought had thrown it into the shape of a halter over the horse's head. "Now, Reilly," said he, "get the dog-cart and harness undher the shed beyant, and keep them dry until Misther George D-- will send for it: d'ye hear now?" Reilly, aghast, was looking at the horse which Cantering Jack held by the halter. "Holy Moses!" cried the man, "what baste is that you have been dhrivin'? It is Malfac" "Howld yer dirty whisht, if ye want the gintleman to give ye five shillin's for takin' him to the Royal in sixteen minutes." I handed Jack the five-pound note. He uttered a blessing and swung himself on the horse's back. A demivolte and a clash of hoofs, a smothered yell, a million sparks of fire, and the horse and man disappeared in the gloom. "Well, to be sure! Oh, murdher!" ejaculated the man, looking with open mouth after Jack. "Well! well! Egorra! That bates the world." Beyond such exclamations my driver uttered not a word during our rapid course through the city, and as I entered the theatre I heard the first bars of the overture to the "Colleen Bawn," mingled with the shouts of the audience greeting the lord-lieutenant and his party. That night I supped with the aides-decamps of the viceregal party. During the A roadside public-house had attracted a few repast my ear caught these words "I lay |