pills that they are, wid their praichin' and singin' fit to dhraw the birds off the bushes? Sure, I'm goin' down to see what they're afther, and may be I won't make them remember Thady D'Arcy, that's all."

"Well, Thady, me jewel, do what the priest bids ye, an ye'll do well anyhow; but don't get into a scrimmage, whatever ye do: mind, I warn ye."

"Whithen, mother, do you think I'm an omadhoun* altogether? Don't ye know them swaddlers never fight? What are ye thinkin' of, at all at all? * Fool.

Sure I'm only goin' for the divarshin, so don't freeken * yerself or cry out till ye'r hurt."

"Be off wid ye, an' hould that tongue o' yours," cried the mother, laughing, as Thady, darting out of the door, ran down the side of the mountain by a bypath that led to the village of Ballinadarna.

A narrow gorge opened on the high road at the distance of about half a mile from the village, and as Thady ran along it, switching the air with a twig that he held in his hand, the wind came eddying up the hill-side in fitful gusts, and fairly lifted off his caubeen (Anglice, hat), and sent it whirling before him as he came out on the open road.

"Arrah, how polite ye are, makin' a body take off his hat to ye, me bould Captain Win'! Bad manners to ye for a racer! let me catch ye, that's all," he continued, as he dived after the apology for a hat that kept dancing about on the road, as if inhabited by some wilful mountain sprite. "May be when ye'r tired ye'll stop, an' be whip to ye," he added, as he made a furious lunge after the vagrant article, which he at length succeeded in recapturing nearly at the entrance of the village, an old blackthorn tree having caught it in transitu, and kept it prisoner in spite of its gyrations, until its owner came up panting to seize his prize.

"Wisha, bad scrou to ye, but ye gave me a purty chase," said he as he put it on his head with a vigorous thump; "ye won't come off agin in a hurry, me beauty. Well, Mick, where are ye off to?" he shouted, as a tall, stalwart man walked quickly past him.

* Frighten.

"I'm goin' to the praichin', to be sure," said the man, with a grin. "An' so am I, ma bouchal. There'll be more praichers than won there, I'm thinkin'."

"What are ye up to now, ye imp?" inquired the man; "it's aisy to see ye'r ripe for some mischief or other, so out wid it."

"Och, nabochlish,* ye'll see time enough, Mick, me boy. Isn't this the house?" he added, as they came before a long thatched cottage, through the open door of which a long room was to be seen. Ranges of forms were placed down each side of the room, leaving a walking space in the centre; and a table, on which was spread a cloth that hung to the floor, stood at the upper end of the room. On this table were placed a pair of candles in readiness for being lighted, the only light at present in the room being that from a large turf fire that blazed on an open hearth.

"It's too soon to go in yet," said the man called Mick; "there's no one there. I'll take a turn down to the shebeen an' see if any iv the boys are there."

"Well, good night to ye for a while," said Thady; “I'll go in an’ tale an air of the fire, for the cowld's gone through an' through me."

In about an hour after this conversation some forty or fifty people, Protestants and Roman Catholics, were assembled in the schoolroom, for such it was, and the clergyman proceeded to read a chapter from the Bible, but was frequently interrupted by dismal groans that seemed to rise out of the floor. The moans were so loud that several people started and *Never mind it.

room.

As the clergyman prepared to preach, he requested of whoever was making the disturbance to remember for what purpose they had come together; and having given out the text, he laid the Bible on the table and commenced addressing his audience. But before he had had time to conclude the first sentence a dismally prolonged moan, followed by a yell, seemed to burst from the very table at which he stood, and in a moment the table itself commenced moving slowly down the room between the rows of forms. A general consternation seized the people, who ran shrieking and screaming together, some of the women almost going into fits, while the men made blows at the perambulating table with their sticks, and one and all were evidently possessed with the idea that the evil one was among them in person. The clergyman had by this time a little recovered from his surprise, and running after the table he seized hold of it with both his hands; but the moment its march was stopped, a violent heaving motion took possession of it, the candles were thrown on the floor and extinguished, the table itself was overturned with a crash, and the confusion that ensued baffles description. All was in darkness, for the fire had been allowed to die out, and just as Mick Whelan (who

15

was returning to see what the "praichin"" was about, and who had hurried his steps on hearing the shrieks and confusion) put his head in at the door, a light, active figure bounded past him, whirling a caubeen in the air and shouting out, "Didn't I tell ye, Mick, there id be more praichers nor one here?"

This escapade prevented the conclusion of the service for some time; but at length quiet was restored, and the clergyman was allowed to preach in peace, even the most disorderly inclined people there probably thinking that enough had been done for one night to interrupt "the praichin'."

The village of Ballinadarna was situated in a very wild part of Ireland; high mountains and bleak sweeps of barren land bordering on the sea-shore environed it; altogether a more desolate region can scarcely be imagined, and the darkness and ignorance of the people were fully as great as the country was miserable and wretched. The village itself boasted a church, a Roman Catholic chapel, a small court-house, and an alehouse that was called "the hotel," beside the main street, which took many curves and windings, as if in imitation of the devious ways of its inhabitants. There were some cross streets rejoicing in the names of "Tea Lane," "Chapel Lane," "Glebe View," and one or two more. A police barrack stood about halfway down the main street nearly opposite the hotel, and the markethouse occupied the middle of the street, a little further down the hill. This village was one of the strongholds of Romanism, and a Sunday never passed in which the parish

the "dirty Sassenachs" and their religion. By this means a strong spirit of rancorous dislike against Protestants was kept alive in the hearts of the people, and every effort was made to prevent them attending lectures or sending their children to the school that the clergyman had established.

Thaddeus D'Arcy and his mother lived about a mile out of the village on the side of the hill that rose almost perpendicularly behind it; and as he was a lad full of life and spirits, and gifted with more than ordinary shrewdness and quickness, his mother, who was a widow with only one child (a daughter) beside himself, had set her heart on seeing Thady a priest. He had attended a "hedge school” for some time, and had picked up various scraps of infor- | mation of such a general character that it would have puzzled a much wiser head than his to get into any kind of order. Just at the time of the "praichin'" that had given Thady an opportunity for exercising his mischievous powers, he was about to begin his travels as a poor scholar previously to entering Maynooth.

A few weeks after the occurrences just related, a bright sun broke over the hill-tops, and crested the long rolling waves that swept into the bay at their feet with liquid gold. The widow D'Arcy, Thady, and Eileen stood outside their door. A sudden silence had fallen upon them as they stepped out of the dark, smoky cabin into the sunshine, and Eileen, hiding her face in her mother's apron, sobbed aloud. Thady stood manfully trying to

then flinging his arms round his mother's neck, he embraced her wildly, and kissing the weeping child, he seized his stick, to the end of which a small bundle was tied, and throwing it on his shoulder ran swiftly down the hill.

The poor mother stood straining her eyes after him as he bounded from rock to rock in the descent, her hand shading her eyes from the sun, and occasionally wiping away the blinding tears that obscured her view of the lessening figure. Atlast a high point hid him from her sight, and rushing into the house the poor woman threw herself on a stool by the fire, and flinging her apron over her head, rocked herself to and fro in an agony of grief. At length nature exhausted itself, and the terrified Eileen, whose sobs had been hushed by the mightier grief of her mother, approaching her gently, said, “Och, then, mother dear, it's proud ye'll be whin he comes to see ye in his illigant shoot of black, like Father Mulcahy; shure his own dog won't know him,—will ye, Grip?"

"Athen, that's true,' " said the mother, beginning at once to look forward to this consummation of all her wishes. "Shure if he didn't go from us he'd be no betther than a bog-throtter all his born days; an' now, avourneen, look what's afore him, the hoith iv good luck an' the bite an' the sup wherever he goes. My blessin' be on thìm that'll be kind to ye, Thady achora, avillish machree; my pride an' joy ye always wor an' will be. An' now, Eileen, we'll say a prayer for the poor bouchal before we go out to plant the pratees."