“No; the horses cannot carry you to Ireland,” said Edwards, laughing good-naturedly, “but you have a home now in England. I asked my father to let me _take_ you home with me; and he says ‘Yes,’ like a dear, good father, and has sent the horses. Come, let’s away.” “But will Mr. Jones let me go?” “Yes; he dare not refuse; for my father has a living in his gift that Jones wants, and which he will not have, if he do not change his tone to you.” Little Dominick could not speak one word, his heart was so full. No boy could be happier than he was during these holydays: “the genial current of his soul,” which had been frozen by unkindness, flowed with all its natural freedom and force. When Dominick returned to school after these holydays were over, Mr. Owen ap Jones, who now found that the Irish boy had an English protector with a living in his gift, changed his tone. He never more complained unjustly that Dominick broke Priscian’s head, seldom called him Irish plockit, and once would have flogged a Welsh boy for taking up this cast-off expression of the master’s, but the Irish blockhead begged the culprit off. Little Dominick sprang forward rapidly in his studies: he soon surpassed every boy in the school, his friend Edwards only excepted. In process of time his guardian removed him to a higher seminary of education. Edwards had a tutor at home. The friends separated. Afterwards they followed different professions in distant parts of the world; and they neither saw nor heard any more of each other for many years. From boys they grew into men, and Dominick, now no longer little Dominick, went over to India as private secretary to one of our commanders in chief. How he got into this situation, or by what gradations he rose in the world, we are not exactly informed: we know only that he was the reputed author of a much-admired pamphlet on Indian affairs; that the despatches of the general to whom he was secretary were remarkably well written, and that Dominick O’Reilly, Esq. returned to England, after several years’ absence, not miraculously rich, but with a fortune equal to his wishes. His wishes were not extravagant: his utmost ambition was to return to his native country with a fortune that should enable him to live independently of all the world, especially of some of his relations, who had not used him well. His mother was no more. Upon his arrival in London, one of the first things he did was to read the Irish newspapers.--To his inexpressible joy, he saw the estate of Fort-Reilly advertised to be sold--the very estate which had formerly belonged to his own family. Away he posted directly to an attorney’s who was empowered to dispose of the land.