within doors; and, therefore, it must be presumed he never saw the eloquent flushing of his daughter’s cheek, or the additional brilliancy of her dark eye, when he spoke of the young man’s attention to his duty, and of his surprising advancement in the nicer labours of the profession. Early in the month of May, a gentleman ordered a race-gig from Sullivan, and from time to time sent his man Duggin to see after the progress of the work. This Duggin was held to be the crack oarsman of the harbour, and consequently prided himself not a little on his reputation. He was a powerfully made though not a tall man, and his features were rather good than otherwise, but rendered displeasing from a peculiar expression of cunning about the eyes, and a perpetual sneer on his lip. Duggin had heard of Sally Sullivan’s fame as a beauty; and being quite of a gallant temperament, he conceived the very natural design of rendering himself agreeable to the old boat-builder’s daughter. The moulds were laid down, and soon the outline of the future race-gig began to be formed more distinctly, when Mr Curly Duggin one day entered the work-yard to pass his opinion on what had been already done, and to offer any suggestions as to the future, that his scientific judgment might deem necessary. On his entrance he found the peerless Sally seated on a chair, and apparently employed at some feminine labour--_apparently_ so, for in reality her eyes were fixed on every movement of William Collins, who was busily engaged in the building of this future wonder of the race-gig class. Sally, observing the stranger enter, and not relishing the familiar stare of a pair of wicked-looking optics, nor the too evident admiration they expressed on their master’s part, immediately left the yard, and retired to the neatly painted cottage of her father. As for Collins, looking up from his work at that very instant, he saw, with the quickness of jealousy, the manner of Duggin and the retreat of Sally; and from that hour he felt an unconquerable aversion to the bold looking oarsman. “Come, now, I’m blessed,” said Duggin, “that’s a nate tidy craft, if I’m a judge in the laste! I say, Mister what’s-your-name, isn’t that purty girl the ould fellow’s daughter?” “Yes, she is,” replied William, with a growl; “that young woman is _Miss_ Sullivan.” “Sartinly she is a beauty without paint! Has she a heap of fine strapping fellows, that’s sweethearts, following of her--has she, my hearty?” “How the devil should I know! What have I to do with any one’s business but my own?--and that gives me enough to mind.” “Why, my fine fellow,” said Duggin, rather annoyed at the reply, “I tell you what, that same ain’t over partiklar civil.” “Isn’t it?--then if you don’t like my civility, I can’t help your liking; so that’s all I care about the matter.”