“Now, good-bye, you may take a good sleep but don't strip; lie just as you are--that's twiste your life has been saved this night. In the mane time, you must give me back that overall shirt--your danger I hope is past, but I may want it to-night yet; and stay, I was near spoilin' all--I forgot to give you the right grip--here it is--if any of them shakes hands wid you, mark this--he presses the point of his thumb on the first joint of your fore-finger, and you press yours upon the middle joint of his little finger, this way--you won't forget that now?” “Certainly not,” replied M'Carthy, “I will remember it accurately.” “Very well,” he proceeded, “take my advice, get to Dublin without delay--if you remain here you're a dead man; you may never see me again, so God bless you.” and with these words he left him. It is difficult to describe M'Carthy's state of mind on finding himself alone. The events of the night, fearful as they were, joined to his singular and to him unaccountable escape--his present state of uncertainty and the contingent danger that awaited him--the fact that parties were in search of him for the purpose of taking away his life, whilst he himself remained utterly unconscious of the cause which occasioned such, a bitter and unrelenting enmity against him--all these reflections, coming together upon a mind already distracted and stupefied by want of rest, and excessive weariness--succeeded in inducing first a wild sense of confusion--then forgetfulness of his position, and ultimately sound and dreamless sleep. How long that sleep had continued he could not even guess, but be that as it may, on awaking, he heard, medley of several voices in the next room, all engaged in an earnest conversation, as was evident, not merely from the disjointed manner of their pronunciation but a strong smell of liquor which assailed his nose. His first impulse was to arise and escape by the window, but on reflection, as he saw by the light of their candle that the door between the two apartments was open, he deemed it safer to keep quiet for a little, with a hope that they might soon take their departure. He felt anxious, besides, to ascertain whether the party in question consisted of those whom the strange guide had mentioned as being his enemies. In the meantime, the following agreeable dialogue greeted his ears and banished for the moment every other thought and consideration. “It was altogether a bad business this night. He was as well set as man could be, but hell pursue the pistols, they both missed fire; and thim that did go off hit the wrong men. The same two--we can't names boys, won't be the betther of it for some time. We met them, you see, in the mountains, where we wor goin' on a little business. Here's that we may never ait worse mait than mutton!”