The priest looked at it, and at once replied, “It is goin' to Bryan M'Mahon, of Ahadarra, the traitor, and it comes from Major Vanston, the enemy to his liberty and religion, that his infamous vote put into Parliament, to rivet our chains, and continue our degradation. So there, girl, you have now the bigot from whom it comes, and the apostate to whom it goes. Who gave it to you?” Nanny, who from some motives of her own, felt reluctant to mention Hycy's name in the matter, hastily replied, “A person, plaise your reverence, from Major Vanston.” “Very well, girl, discharge your duty,” said the priest; “but I tell you the devil will never sleep well till he has his clutches in the same Major, as well as in the shameless apostate he has corrupted.” Having uttered these words, he passed on, and Nanny in a minute or two afterwards returned the letter to her father, who with his own hands put it into the post-office. “Now,” said she to her father, “the people is scatterin' themselves homewards; and the streets is gettin' clear--but listen--that letter is directed to Bryan M'Mahon; will you keep about the post-office here; Bryan's in town, an' it's likely when the danger's over that he may be passin'. Now you know that if he does, the people in the shop where the post-office is kep' will see him, an' maybe he'll get the letter to-day, or I'll tell you what, watch Hycy; take my word for it, he has some scheme afoot.” “Hycy's no favorite wid you, Nanny.” “Why you know he's not, an' indeed I don't know why he's one wid you.” “Throth an' he is, many a shillin' an' sixpence he throws me,--always does indeed wherever he meets me.” “No matter, maybe the day will soon come when you'll change your opinion of him, that's all I say, except to keep your eye on him; and I'll tell you why I bid you, some day soon.” “Well, achora, maybe I may change my opinion of him; but at present I say he is my favorite, an' will be so, till I know worse about him.” Nanny, having bade him good-bye, and repeated her wish that the old man would watch the post-office for some time, proceeded up the street in the direction of the grocer's, to whom she had been dispatched for groceries. Two hours more had now elapsed, the crowds were nearly dispersed, and the evening was beginning to set in, when Hycy Burke called at the post-office, and for the second time during the day, asked if there was a letter for him. The post-master searched again, and replied, “No; but here's another for Bryan M'Mahon.” “What!” he exclaimed, “another for Bryan! Why he must have an extensive correspondence, this Bryan M'Mahon. I wonder who it's from.” “There's no wonder at all about it,” replied the post-master, “it's from Major Vanston. Here's his frank and handwriting in the direction and all.”