“This is Mr. Dornton’s,” said the dignified woman in the hood advancing her lantern,--“and--mercy on us! you’re in master’s lap!” A shout of laughter from five of the inside passengers corroborated the assertion, and like a literal cat out of the bag, the ci-devant lady, forgetting her umbrella and her pattens, bolted out of the coach, and with feline celerity rushed up the garden, and down the area, of number ten. “Renounce the woman!” said Dr. Dornton, as he scuttled out of the stage--“Why the devil didn’t she tell me she was the new cook?” [Illustration: AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.] [Illustration: A DAY’S SPORT ON THE MOORS.] LITTLE O’P.--AN AFRICAN FACT. It was July the First, and the great hill of Howth Was bearing by compass sow-west and by south, And the name of the ship was the Peggy of Cork, Well freighted with bacon and butter and pork. Now, this ship had a captain, Macmorris by name, And little O’Patrick was mate of the same; For Bristol they sailed, but by nautical scope, They contrived to be lost by the Cape of Good Hope. Of all the Cork boys that the vessel could boast, Only little O’P. made a swim to the coast; And when he revived from a sort of a trance, He saw a big Black with a very long lance. Says the savage, says he, in some Hottentot tongue, “Bash Kuku my gimmel bo gumborry bung!” Then blew a long shell, to the fright of our elf, And down came a hundred as black as himself. They brought with them _guattul_, and pieces of _klam_, The first was like beef, and the second like lamb; “Don’t I know,” said O’P., “what the wretches are at? They’re intending to eat me as soon as I’m fat!” In terror of coming to pan, spit, or pot, His rations of _jarbul_ he suffer’d to rot; He would not touch _purry_ or _doolberry-lik_, But kept himself _growing_ as thin as a stick. Though broiling the climate, and parching with drouth, He would not let _chobbery_ enter his mouth, But kicked down the _krug_ shell, tho’ sweetened with _natt_,-- “I an’t to be pisoned the likes of a rat!” At last the great _Joddry_ got quite in a rage, And cried, “O mi pitticum dambally nage! The _chobbery_ take, and put back on the shelf, Or give me the _krug_ shell, I’ll drink it myself! The _doolberry-lik_ is the best to be had, And the _purry_ (I chew’d it myself) is not bad; The _jarbul_ is fresh, for I saw it cut out, And the _Bok_ that it came from is grazing about. My _jumbo_! but run off to Billery Nang, And tell her to put on her _jigger_ and _tang_, And go with the _Bloss_ to the man of the sea, And say that she comes as his _Wulwul_ from me.” Now Billery Nang was as Black as a sweep, With thick curly hair like the wool of a sheep, And the moment he spied her, said little O’P., “Sure the Divil is dead, and his Widow’s at me!” But when, in the blaze of her Hottentot charms,