The next morning Gerald Cavanagh, who laid great stress upon the distracted language of his daughter on the preceding night paid an early visit to his friend, Jemmy Burke. He found the whole family assembled at breakfast, and after the usual salutations, was asked to join them, which invitation, however, having already breakfasted, he declined. Hycy had of late been very much abroad--that is to say he was out very much at night, and dined very frequently in the head-inn of Ballymacan, when one would suppose he ought to have dined at home. On the present occasion he saluted honest Gerald with a politeness peculiarly ironical. “Mr. Cavanagh,” said he, “I hope I see you in good health, sir. How are all the ladies?--Hannah, the neat, and Kathleen--ah, Kathleen, the divine!” “Troth, they're all very well, I thank you, Hycy; and how is yourself?” “Free from care, Mr. Cavanagh--a chartered libertine.” “A libertine!” exclaimed the honest farmer; “troth I've occasionally heard as much; but until I heard it from your own lips divil a word of it I believed.” “He is only jesting, Mr. Cavanagh,” said his brother; “he doesn't mean exactly, nor indeed at all, what you suppose he does.” “Does he mean anything at all, Ned?” said his father, dryly, “for of late it's no aisy matther to understand him.” “Well said, Mr. Burke,” replied Hycy; “I am like yourself, becoming exceedingly oracular of late--but, Mr. Cavanagh, touching this exquisite union which is contemplated between Adonis and Juno the ox-eyed--does it still hold good, that, provided always she cannot secure the corrupt clod-hopper, she will in that ease condescend upon Adonis?” “Gerald,” said the father, “as there's none here so handy at the nonsense as to understand him, the best way is to let him answer himself.” “Begad, Jemmy,” said Cavanagh, “to tell you the truth, I haven't nonsense enough to answer the last question at any rate; unless he takes to speakin' common-sense I won't undhertake to hould any further discourse wid him.” “Why will you continue,” said his brother in a low voice, “to render yourself liable to these strong rebuffs from plain people?” “Well said, most vituline--_Solomon secundus_, well said.” “Hycy,” said his mother, “you ought to remimber that every one didn't get the edi cation you did--an' that ignorant people like your father and Gerald Kavanagh there can't undhercomestand one-half o' what you say. Sure they know nothing o' book-lamin', and why do you give it them?” “Simply to move their metaphysics, Mrs. Burke. They are two of the most notorious metaphysicians from this to themselves; but they don't possess your powers of ratiocination, madam?” “No,” replied his father; “nayther are we sich judges of horseflesh, Hycy.” Hycy made him a polite bow, and replied, “One would think that joke is pretty well worn by this time, Mr. Burke. Couldn't you strike out something original now?”