“I was trying to recollect that very interesting anecdote you told me of the attack on the barrack in Galway when you were staying with the 73rd--Frere has never heard of it,” observed Bracy as he rejoined his companions. Now this said anecdote related to an episode in De Grandeville’s career to which he delighted to refer, and which, accordingly, most of those who boasted the honour of his acquaintance had heard more than once.. Such indeed was the case with Frere, and he was just going to say so when he caught a warning look from Bracy, which induced him to remain silent. “Ar--really, it was a very simple thing,” began De Grandeville, falling into the trap most unsuspiciously. “I happened to know several of the 73rd fellows who were quartered down in Galway at a place called--ar--here’s your umbrella.” “I beg your pardon! I did not quite catch the name,” returned Bracy, who, having buried his fingers in the pockets of his paletot, did not seem to have such a thing as a hand about him. “At a place called Druminabog,” continued De Grandeville. “The country was in a very disturbed state; one or two attacks of a rather serious character had been made upon the police, and the military had been called out to support them; ar--here’s your um---” “Was it three or four years ago that all this took place?” inquired the still handless Bracy. “Four years on the second of last April,” returned De Grandeville. “Are you sure it wasn’t the first?” muttered Frere aside. “I was travelling on a business tour in the sister island,” continued the narrator, “and meeting Osborne, a 73rd man, who was going down to join his regiment, he persuaded me to come on with him to Druminabog--ar--here’s your-----” “Was that Tom Osborne, who sold out when the rifles were going to Ceylon?” interposed Bracy, studiously ignoring the proffered umbrella. The victimised De Grandeville replied in the affirmative, and resuming his tale, soon grew so deeply interested in the recital of his own heroic exploits that the umbrella ceased any longer to afflict him; nay, so absorbed did he become, that in a moment of excitement, just as he was passing the Horse Guards, he waved that article in the air and led on an imaginary company of the 73rd therewith, after the fashion of gallant commanders in panoramas of Waterloo, and battle scenes enacted at the amphitheatre of Astley. As they approached the Home Office, and De Grandeville had arrived at the concluding sentence of his narrative, which ran as follows:--“And so, sir, the Major shook me warmly by the hand, exclaiming, ‘De Grandeville, you’re worthy to be one of us, and I only wish you were, my boy!’” the trio paused, and Bracy extracting one hand from the pocket in which it had been reposing, remarked, with the air of a man who considered himself slightly aggrieved but meant to make the best of it--