“Oh, we’re quite tired ov that!” at length lisped the housemaid “do, piper, give us a _walse_ or _co-dhreelle_. Do you play ‘Tanty-_pol_pitty?’ Jem Sidebottom and I used to dance it beautifully when I lived at Mr A----’s!” “What does yez call it?” asked Tim rather sneeringly. “Tanty-_pol_pitty,” replied the damsel, drawing herself up with an air enough to kill a piper! “Phew!” returned the musician contemptuously, “that’s out ov fashin too; _but I’ll give yez one as good_;” and the “Boyne” followed, played neither faster nor slower than he had been taught it, which was in right time, and any thing but _dancing_ time, to the no small annoyance of the dancers. Another and another jig and reel was demanded, and to all and each Tim Callaghan replied, “I haven’t _that, but I’ll give yez one as good_;” and the “King,” the “Boyne,” and the “Day,” followed each other in due succession. Was there anything more provoking! There stood four active, zealous votaries of Terpsichore, with toes pointed and heads erect, anxiously awaiting a further developement of Tim Callaghan’s powers! There stood the dancers, looking beseechingly at the piper; there sat the piper staring at the dancers, wondering what the deuce they waited for, quite satisfied that they had got all that could reasonably be expected from _him_. “An’ _have_ you nothin’ else in yer chanther?” at last angrily demanded the butler. “E--ah?” drawled Tim Callaghan, as if he did not understand the querist. The question was repeated in a higher key. “Arrah, how bad yez are for sortins!” retorted the piper; “yer masther wud be contint wid what I gave yez, an’ thankful into the bargin!” “By Jupither _Amond_!” exclaimed he of the white apron, “this beats all the playin’ I ever heerd in my life! Arrah, do ye ever attind the nobility’s concerts?--Ha! ha! ha!” “’Pon my _vo_racity,” cried the smiling housemaid, “I am greatly afeerd he will get ‘piper’s pay--more kicks than halfpence.’--Ha! ha! ha!” “An’ good enough for him!” added the gardener; “a fella that has but _three half thunes_ in the world, an’ none ov them right! Arrah, what’s yer name, avie?” “What’s that to you?” growled the piper. “Oh, nothin’! Only I thought that you might be ‘the piper that played before Moses.’--Ha! ha! ha!” “Oh! the world may wag Since _he_ got the _bag_,” sang the cook, as she returned to her avocations. But the butler, as master of the ceremonies, showed his disappointment and displeasure in a summary ejection of the unfortunate minstrel from the comforts of the fire and the house altogether. Again I had the exquisite delight of hearing Tim Callaghan. It was in another part of our county, and where he was quite a stranger. A lady had assembled a number of young persons to a sea-side dance one evening; but, alas! ere the hour of meeting arrived, she had heard that the fiddler she expected was ill, and could not possibly attend her. What was to be done? Nothing!