“Fire!” says he. Slap off went both pistols like the clapping of a hand, and down dropped Mr. Callaghan with a ball clane into his calf.--Well, every body ran to lift him, when, suddenly, the cry of murder was raised from the other end of the room, and out dashed a man in a shirt and scarlet night-cap, and a fat woman close at his heels, just as they had tumbled out of bed. [Illustration: 0186] “Oh, Holy Moses!” says he. “Save our lives! Murder! Murder!” “What’s wrong with ye, honest man?” says I. “Give us time for repentince!” says she, droppin’ on her knees. “We’re dalers in soft goods, and obliged to tell lies in the way of bisnis.” “For shame,” says I, “for a dacent young woman to come before company in that way!--Arrah, put the petticoat on ye at least.” Troth, it was no wonder the cratures were scared.--Ye see, there was a closet off the ball-room, divided with a wooden partition; and as the house was full, and the travellers tired, they stuck them into it for the night. Divil a one of us, in the hurry, thought of lookin’ in; and when the man woke with the noise, and sate up to listen what the matter was, the fellow with the red nose cried “Fire!” and Callaghan’s ball pops through the partition, and whips the tassel off the daler’s night-cap. Well, for fear of any fresh shindy, I got the luggage tied upon the shay, Dick shook hands with Callaghan, and sent his compliments to his sister Sophy,--and away we drove to Moate; and the next evening got safe to Dublin. Of all the jobs ever a man undertook, the sorest was to look after Dick Macnamara. Ye might as well herd a basketful of black-beetles, as keep him in sight: and the two days we stopped in Dublin, though I watched him like a bailiff, he got into two fights--rid of thirty pounds--and snug into the watchouse afterwards. ‘Pon my soul, my heart was fairly broke with him. When we landed at Holyhead, and were fairly out of Irelan’, says I to myself, “Maybe we may come some speed now;” but _Mona-sin-dhiaoul_!--our troubles were only beginnin’. Troth, at one time, I thought we would never have reached London at all: and as it was, we were three weeks upon the road. We never stopped for the night, but Dick discovered some divil to detain us. One while he would be in love with the mistress, and at another, dyin’ about the maid--and all of them he swore upon the book to marry on his return. We came to England to look for one woman--an’ if he had but kept his word, we would have gone back with one and twenty; but as matters turned out, the divil a wife we brought home at all at all.