"Is it not know the road to the Squire's?--wow! wow!" said Andy. "It's I that'll rattle you there in no time, your honour." "Well, wattle away then!" said the enraged traveller, as he threw himself back in the chaise, cursing all the postilions in Ireland. Now, it was to Squire O'Grady's that Mr. Furlong wanted to go; but in the confusion of the moment the name of O'Grady never once was mentioned; and with the title of "Squire," Andy never associated another idea than that of his late master, Mr. Egan. Mr. Furlong, it has been stated, was an official of Dublin Castle, and had been despatched on electioneering business to the country. He was related to a gentleman of the same name who held a lucrative post under government, and was well known as an active agent in all affairs requiring what in Ireland was called "Castle influence;" and this, his relative, was now despatched, for the first time, on a similar employment. By the way, while his name is before one, a little anecdote may be appropriately introduced, illustrative of the wild waggery prevailing in the streets of Dublin in those days. Those days were the good old days of true virtue! When a bishop who had daughters to marry, would advance a deserving young curate to a good living, and, not content with _that_ manifestation of his regard, would give him _one of his own children_ for a wife! Those were the days when, the country being in danger, fathers were willing to sacrifice, not only their sons, but their daughters on the altar of patriotism! Do you doubt it?--unbelieving and selfish creatures of these degenerate times! Listen! A certain father waited upon the Irish Secretary, one fine morning, and in that peculiar strain which secretaries of state must be pretty well used to, descanted at some length on the devotion he had always shown to the government, and yet they had given him no _proof of their confidence_. The Secretary declared they had the highest sense of his merits, and that they had given him their entire confidence. "But you have given me nothing else, my lord," was the answer. "My dear sir, of late we have not had any proof of sufficient weight in our gift to convince you." "Oh, I beg your pardon, my lord; there's a majority of the ---- dragoons vacant." "Very true, my dear sir; and if you _had_ a child to devote to the service of your country, no one should have the majority sooner." "Thank you, my lord," said the worthy man with a low bow; "then I _have_ a child." "Bless me, sir! I never heard you had a son." "No, my lord, but I have a daughter." "A daughter!" said my Lord Secretary, with a look of surprise; "but you forget, sir--this is a regiment--a _dragoon_ regiment." "Oh, she rides elegant," said her father. "But, my dear sir--a woman?" "Why shouldn't a woman do her duty, my lord, as well as a man, when the country is in danger? I'm ready to sacrifice my daughter," said the heroic man, with an air worthy of Virginius.