observation, few have ever witnessed. It is true he could subsist a long time without food, but, like the renowned Captain Dalgetty, when an abundance of it happened to be placed before him, he displayed the most indefensible ignorance as to all knowledge of the period when he ought to stop, considering it his bounden duty on all occasions to clear off whatever was set before him--a feat which he always accomplished with the most signal success. “Aha” exclaimed Tom, “dat Red Rapparee is tall man, but not tall as Tom; him no steeple like Tom; but him rogue and murderer, an' Tom honest; him won't carry off _Cooleen Bawn_ dough, nor rob her fader avder. Come, Tom, Steeple Tom, out with your two legs, one afore toder, and put Rapparee's nose out o' joint. _Cooleen Bawn_ dats good to everybody, Catlieks (Catholics) an' all, an' often ordered Tom many a bully dinner. Hicko! hicko! be de bones of Peter White--off I go!” Tom, like many other individuals of his description, was never able to get over the language of childhood--a characteristic which is often appended to the want of reason, and from which, we presume, the term “innocent” has been applied in an especial manner to those who are remarkable for the same defect. Having uttered the words we have just recited, he started off at a gait, peculiar to fools, which is known by the name of “a sling trot,” and after getting out upon the old road he turned himself in the direction which Willy Reilly and his party had taken, and there we beg to leave him for the present. The old squire felt his animal heat much revived by the warmth of the frieze coat, and his spirits, now that the dreadful scene into which he had been so unexpectedly cast had passed away without danger, began to rise so exuberantly that his conversation became quite loquacious and mirthful, if not actually, to a certain extent, incoherent. “Sir,” said he, “you must come home with me--confound me, but you must, and you needn't say nay, now, for I shall neither take excuse nor apology. I am a hospitable man, Mr.--what's this your name is?” “My name, sir,” replied the other, “is Reilly--William Reilly, or, as I am more generally called, Willy Reilly. The name, sir, though an honorable one, is, in this instance, that of an humble man, but one who, I trust, will never disgrace it.” “You must come home with me, Mr. Reilly. Not a word now.” “Such is my intention, sir,” replied Reilly. “I shall not leave you until I see that all risk of danger is past--until I place you safely under your own roof.” “Well, now,” continued the old squire, “I believe a Papist can be a gentleman--a brave man--a man of honor, Mr. Reilly.” “I am not aware that there is any thing in his religion to make him either dishonorable or cowardly, sir,” replied Reilly with a smile.