extremely warm, generous, grateful temper, delighted Sir Ulick; but he gloried in the superior polish of his own son. Harry Ormond grew up with all the faults that were incident to his natural violence of passions, and that might necessarily be expected from his neglected and deficient education. His devoted gratitude and attachment to his guardian father, as he called Sir Ulick, made him amenable in an instant, even in the height and tempest of his passions, to whatever Sir Ulick desired; but he was ungovernable by most other people, and rude even to insolence, where he felt tyranny or suspected meanness. Miss Black and he were always at open war; to Lady O’Shane he submitted, though with an ill grace; yet he did submit, for his guardian’s sake, where he himself only was concerned; but most imprudently and fiercely he contended upon every occasion where Marcus, when aggrieved, had declined contending with his mother-in-law. Upon the present occasion the two youths had been long engaged to dine with, and keep the birthday of, Mr. Cornelius O’Shane, the King of the Black Islands--next to Sir Ulick the being upon earth to whom Harry Ormond thought himself most obliged, and to whom he felt himself most attached. This he had represented to Lady O’Shane, and had earnestly requested that, as the day for the intended dance was a matter of indifference to her, it might not be fixed on this day; but her ladyship had purposely made it a trial of strength, and had insisted upon their returning at a certain hour. She knew that Sir Ulick would be much vexed by their want of punctuality on this occasion, where the Annalys were concerned, though, in general, punctuality was a virtue for which he had no regard. Sir Ulick had finished his cup of coffee. “Miss Black, send away the tea-things--send away all these things,” cried he. “Young ladies, better late than never, you know--let’s have dancing now; clear the decks for action.” The young ladies started from their seats immediately. All was now in happy motion. The servants answered promptly--the tea-things retired in haste--tables rolled away--chairs swung into the back-ground--the folding-doors of the dancing-room were thrown open--the pyramids of wax-candles in the chandeliers (for this was ere argands were on earth) started into light--the musicians tuning, screwing, scraping, sounded, discordant as they were, joyful notes of preparation. “But where’s my son--where’s Marcus?” said Sir Ulick, drawing Lady O’Shane aside. “I don’t see him any where.” “No,” said Lady O’Shane; “you know that he would go to dine to-day with that strange cousin of yours, and neither he nor his companion have thought proper to return yet.” “I wish you had given me a hint,” said Sir Ulick, “and I would have waited; for Marcus ought to lead off with Miss Annaly.”