“A keg of sperits, with a spigot, in the servants' hall, and no saying by your leave, but drink while ye could stand over it.” “The Lord be good to us!” piously ejaculated the twain. “The hams was boiled in sherry wine.” “Begorra, I wish I was a pig them times.” “And a pike daren't come up to table without an elegant pudding in his belly that cost five pounds!” “'Tis the fish has their own luck always,” was the profound meditation at this piece of good fortune. “Ayeh! ayeh!” continued the hostess in a strain of lamentation, “When the ould stock was in it, we never heerd tell of improvements. He'll be making me take out a license, I suppose,” said she, in a voice of half contemptuous incredulity. “Faix, there's no knowing,” said Joe, as he shook the ashes out of his pipe, and nodded his head sententiously, as though to say, that in the miserable times they'd fallen upon, any thing was possible. “Licensed for sperits and groceries,” said Mrs. M'Kelly, with a sort of hysterical giggle, as if the thought were too much for her nerves. “I wouldn't wonder if he put up a pike,” stammered out Jim, thereby implying that human atrocity would have reached its climax. The silence which followed this terrible suggestion, was now loudly interrupted by a smart knocking at the door of the cabin, which was already barred and locked for the night. “Who's there?” said Mary, as she held a cloak across the blaze of the fire, so as to prevent the light being seen through the apertures of the door--“'tis in bed we are, and late enough, too.” “Open the door, Mary, it's me,” said a somewhat confident voice. “I saw the fire burning brightly--and there's no use hiding it.” “Oh, troth, Mr. Mark, I'll not keep ye out in the cowld,” said the hostess, as, unbarring the door, she admitted the guest whom we had seen some time since in the glen. “Sure enough, 'tisn't an O'Donoghue we'd shut the door agin, any how.” “Thank ye, Mary,” said the young man; “I have been all day in the mountains, and had no sport; and as that pleasant old Scotch uncle of mine gives me no peace, when I come home empty-handed, I have resolved to stay here for the night, and try my luck to-morrow. Don't stir, Jim--there's room enough, Joe: Mary's fire is never so grudging, but there's a warm place for every one. What's in this big pot here, Mary?” “It's a stew, sir; more by token, of your honour's providin'.” “Mine--how is that?” “The hare ye shot afore the door, yesterday morning; sure it's raal luck we have it for you now;” and while Mary employed herself in the pleasant hustle of preparing the supper, the young man drew near to the fire, and engaged the others in conversation. “That travelling carriage was going on to Bantry, Joe, I suppose?” said the youth, in a tone of easy indifference. “No sir; they stopped at the lodge above.” “At the lodge!--surely you can't mean that they were the English family--Sir Marmaduke.”