“Is it toleration?” exclaimed Fitzgerald, interrupting the Lieutenant; “why then, in toleration, Father Killalas flock are all lambkins. I'll add to that,--because, I know you'll like to hear it--we're as quiet as mice in these parts: we've no fighting, nor fairs, nor wren-feasts; and as few ghosts or goblins, Banshees, Lepreghauns, or white women on horseback, as you'd wish: for we don't give such cattle much encouragement. Don't that plaze you, Lieutenant?” “It does,--it does; and I have no doubt but that I shall pass my days peacefully and pleasantly in your village, my good old friend. Jimmy Fitzgerald and I,” continued the Lieutenant, addressing me with unusual animation, “have fought and bled side by side; we were confined together, for four years, in a French prison, from which we escaped in company; we had but one tobacco-box between us, for fifteen months; and we accidentally fell in love with the same woman. Jimmy acted most magnanimously on that occasion: as soon as he discovered that I was his rival, he instantly resigned his pretensions in my favour.” “And you were quite as polite to me, Lieutenant,” said Jimmy, “and I don't forget it to you to this day. You insisted, you know, as strongly as I did: so that as each was resolute in not cutting out his friend, the darling delight of our hearts got neither of us; and she's now living,--an ould maid, as I'm tould,--near upon a mile and a half this side of Thurles.” “Is it possible?” exclaimed the Lieutenant. “It's as true as you're born, if Corney Carolan is to be believed on his oath. I wouldn't take his word; but when a man swears to what he says, it's not dacent to discredit him, is it?” “Certainly not,” replied the Lieutenant. “And so Peggy is living within a mile and a half of Thurles, is she?--unmarried, too, you say?” “She is; and I don't think I'd be doing my duty if I didn't tell you. I'll just take this present opportunity of saying, too, that as you think of settling, and as you're still well-looking, and I'm broke down out-and-out, so that she wouldn't look upon me,--I'd sacrifice nothing,--that is, I wouldn't intirely brake my heart if you wint and married her.” “James Fitzgerald,” said the Lieutenant, “you are still the noble fellow you were thirty years ago. You have forestalled me on this occasion: I assure you that I was just working myself up to say to you what you have said to me. You are still a bachelor, Jimmy, and, as far as I am concerned, Miss Margaret M'Carthy is quite at your service.” “Thank you kindly, and good luck to you for this and all that's past,” said Jimmy; “but, to spake my mind,--I never cared much about Peg.” “Nor I, upon my honour!” exclaimed the Lieutenant. “I was glad of an excuse to be rid of her,” quoth Fitzgerald. “Precisely my own case, I protest,” said the Lieutenant. “And I never cared one half so little for her, as I do just now.” “We coincide on this point to a tittle.”