“'I fear, Bryan,' said I, 'that you have not been well trated of late.' He looked at me with something like surprise, but said nothing; and in a quarter, I added, 'that was the last from which you were prepared to expect justice without mercy.' “'I don't understand you,' he replied sharply; 'what do you mean?' “'Bryan,' said I, 'I scorn a moral circumbendibus where the direct truth is necessary; I have heard it said, and I fear it is burthened wid too much uncomfortable veracity, that Kathleen Cavanagh has donned the black cap* in doing the judicial upon you, and that she considers her sentence equal to the laws of the Medes and Persians, unchangeable--or, like those of our own blessed church--wid reverence be the analogy made--altogether infallible.' His eye blazed as I spoke; he caught me where by the collar wid a grip that made me quake--'Another word against Kathleen Cavanagh,' he replied, 'and I will shake every joint of your carcass out of its place.' His little sister, Dora, was wid him at the time; 'Give him a shake or two as it is,' she added, egging him on, 'for what he has said already;' throth she's a lively little lady that, an' if it wasn't that she has a pair of dark shining eyes, and sweet features--ay, and as coaxin' a figure of her own--however, sorra may care, somehow, I defy any one to, be angry wid her.” * Alluding to the practice of putting on the black cap when the Judge condemns a felon to death. “Come, Mr. O'Finigan,” said James, approaching him, “you must have another glass.” “Well no, James,” he replied, “I think not.” “Faith, but I say you will; if it was only to hear what Dora--hem--what Bryan said. “Very well,” said the master, allowing him to take the glass which he received again brimming, “thanks, James.” “'Well,' said Bryan, lettin' go my collar, 'blame any one you like; blame me, blame Vanston, blame Chevydale, Fethertonge, anybody, everybody, the Priest, the Bishop, the Pope,--but don't dare to blame Kathleen Cavanagh.' “'Why,' said I, 'has she been right in her condemnation of you?' “'She has,' he replied, with a warmth of enthusiasm which lit up his whole features; 'she has done nothing but what was right. She just acted as she ought, and all I can say is, that I know I'm not worthy of her, and never was. God bless her!' “'And don't let me hear,' said Dora, taking up the dialogue, 'that ever you'll mention her name wid disrespect--mark that, Mr. O'Finigan, or it'll be worse for you a thrifle.' “Her brother looked on her wid complacent affection, and patting her on the head, said, 'Come, darling, don't beat him now. You see the risk you run,' he added, as they went away, 'so don't draw down Dora's vengeance on your head. She might forgive you an offence against herself; but she won't forgive you one against Kathleen Cavanagh; and, Mister O'Finigan, neither will I.'” “Masther,” said James Cavanagh, “you'll stop to-night with us?”