‘Troth, now,’ said Mr. O’Scarum, ‘and this is a merry meeting, sure enough, though it’s on a dismal occasion, for it’s Miss Melincourt you’re looking for, as we are too, though you have most cause, Mr. Forester; for I understand you are to be the happy man. Troth, and I did not know so much when I came to your fête, or, perhaps, I should have been for arguing the point of a prior claim (as far as my own consent was concerned) over a bit of neat turf, twelve yards long; but Major O’Dogskin tells me, that by getting muzzy, and so I did, sure enough, on your old Madeira, and rare stuff it is, by my conscience, when Miss Melincourt was in your house, I have sanctioned the matter, and there’s an end of it: but, by my soul, I did not mean to have been cut out quietly: and the Major says, too, you’re too good a fellow to be kilt, and that’s true enough: so I’ll keep my ammunition for other friends; and here’s to you and Miss Melincourt, and a happy meeting to you both, and the devil take him that parts you, says Harum O’Scarum.’—‘And so says Dermot O’Dogskin,’ said the Major. ‘And my friend O’Scarum and myself will ride about till we get news of her, for we don’t mind a little hardship.—You shall be wanting some dinner, joys, and there’s nothing but fat bacon and potatoes; but we have made a shift with it, and then here is the very creature itself, old sherry, my jewels! troth, and how did we come home by it, think you? I know what it is to pass a night in a little inn in the hills, and you don’t find Major O’Dogskin turning out of the main road, without giving his man a couple of kegs of wine just to balance the back of his saddle. Sherry’s a good traveller, and will stand a little shaking; and what would one do without it in such a place as this, where it is water in the desert, and manna in the wilderness?’ Mr. Forester thanked them very warmly for their good wishes and active exertions. The humble dinner of himself and his party was soon despatched; after which, the Major placed the two little kegs on the table and said, ‘They were both filled to-day; so, you see, there is no lack of the good creature to keep us all alive till morning, and then we shall part again in search of Miss Melincourt, the jewel! for there is not such another on the face of the earth. Och!’ continued the Major, as he poured the wine from one of the kegs into a brown jug; for the house could not afford them a decanter, and some little ale tumblers supplied the place of wine-glasses,—‘Och! the ould jug that never held anything better than sour ale: how proud he must feel of being filled to the brim with sparkling sherry, for the first and last time in the course of his life!’ CHAPTER XXX THE PAPER-MILL