“None. I have told you that I caught his horse by the bridle, but that was to save him from falling back.” “Ah, that was indiscreet, at all events.” “Would n't it have been worse to suffer him to incur a severe danger which I might have prevented?” “I don't think so; but we'll not discuss the point now. There was a blow?” “That there was,” said Jack, pointing to the spot where a great strap of sticking-plaster extended across his forehead. “And he seemed to understand at once that reparation was to be made for it?” “The suggestion came from himself, frankly and speedily.” “Well, it's pretty evident we have to deal with a gentleman!” said Magennis, “and that same's a comfort; so I'll leave you now for a short time: amuse yourself as well as you can, but don't quit the room.” And with this caution Magennis took his departure, and set off in search of Mr. Repton's chamber. “Where are you bringing the mutton chops, Peter?” said he to a waiter, who, with a well-loaded tray of eatables, was hastening along the corridor. “To the ould Counsellor from Dublin, sir. He's break-fastin' with the Major.” “And that's his room, No. 19?” “Yes, sir.” “They 're merry, at all events,” said Magennis, as a burst of hearty laughter was heard from within the chamber. “'T is just that they are, indeed,” replied Peter. “The Counsellor does be telling one story after another, till you 'd think he 'd no end of them. He began last night at supper, and I could scarce change the plates for laughin'.” Muttering some not very intelligible observation to himself, Magennis passed down the stairs, and issuing into the street, wended his way to the barber's. If the Oughterard Figaro had not as brilliant a vocation as his colleague of Seville, his occupations were scarcely less multifarious, for he kept the post-office, was clerk at petty sessions, collected the parish cess, presided over “the pound,” besides a vast number of inferior duties. Whether it was the result of a natural gift, or by the various information of his official life, Hosey Lynch was regarded in his native town as a remarkably shrewd man, and a good opinion on a number of subjects. He was a short, decrepit old fellow, with an enormous head of curly black hair, which he seemed to cultivate with all the address of his craft; probably intending it as a kind of advertisement of his skill, displaying as it did all the resources of his handiwork. But even above this passion was his ardor for news,--news political, social, legal, or literary; whatever might be the topic, it always interested him, and it was his especial pride to have the initiative of every event that stirred the hearts of the Oughterard public.