LITMIR.BIZ

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that sorrow was there. O’Donoghue himself paced to and fro in the chamber of the old tower, now, stopping to cast a glance down the glen, where he still hoped to see Mark approaching, now, resuming his melancholy walk in sadness of heart.

      In the darkened sick-room, and by the bed, sat Sir Archibald, concealed by the curtain, but near enough to give assistance to the sick boy should he need it. He sat buried in his own gloomy thoughts, rendered gloomier, as he listened to the hurried breathings and low mutter-ings of the youth, whose fever continued to increase upon him. The old ill-tempered cook, whose tongue was the terror of the region she dwelt in, sat smoking by the fire, nor noticed the presence of the aged fox hound, who had followed Kerry into the kitchen, and now lay asleep before the fire. Kerry himself ceased to hum the snatches of songs and ballads, by which he was accustomed to beguile the weary day. There was a gloom on every thing, nor was the aspect without doors more cheering. The rain beat heavily in drifts against the windows; the wind shook the old trees violently, and tossed their gnarled limbs in wild confusion, sighing with mournful cadence along the deep glen, or pouring a long melancholy note through the narrow corridors of the old house. The sound of the storm, made more audible by the dreary silence, seemed to weigh down every heart. Even the bare-legged little gossoon, Mickey, who had come over from Father Luke’s with a message, sat mute and sad, and as he moved his naked foot among the white turf ashes, seemed to feel the mournful depression of the hour.

      “‘Tis a dreadful day of rain, glory be to God!” said Kerry, as he drew a fragment of an old much-soiled newspaper from his pocket, and took his seat beside the blazing fire. For some time he persevered in his occupation without interruption; but Mrs. Branaghan having apparently exhausted her own reflections, now turned upon him to supply a new batch.

      “What’s in the news, Kerry O’Leary? I think ye might as well read it out, as be mumbling it to yourself there,” said she, in a tone seldom disputed in the realm she ruled.

      “Musha then,” said Kerry, scratching his head, “the little print bates me entirely; the letters do be so close, they hav’n’t room to stir in, and my eyes is always going to the line above, and the line below, and can’t keep straight in the furrow at all. Come here, Mickey, alanah! ‘tis you ought to be a great scholar, living in the house with his reverence. They tell me,” continued he, in a whisper to the cook – “they tell me, he can sarve mass already.”

      Mrs. Branaghan withdrew her dudeen at these words, and gazed at the little fellow with unmixed astonishment, who, in obedience to the summons, took his place beside Kerry’s chair, and prepared to commence his task.

      “Where will I begin, sir?”

      “Begin at the news, av coorse,” said Kerry, somewhat puzzled to decide what kind of intelligence he most desired. “What’s this here with a large P in the first of it?”

      “Prosperity of Ireland, sir,” said the child.

      “Ay, read about that, Mickey,” said the cook, resuming her pipe.

      With a sing-song intonation, which neither regarded paragraph nor period, but held on equably throughout a column, the little fellow began —

      “The prospect of an abundant harvest is now very general throughout the country; and should we have a continuance off the heavenly weather for a week or so longer, we hope the corn will all be saved.”

      As the allusion made here by the journalist, was to a period of several years previous, the listeners might be excused for not feeling a perfect concurrence in the statement.’

      “Heavenly weather, indeed!” grunted out the cook, as she turned her eyes towards the windows, against which the plashing rain was beating – Mike read on.

      “Mr. Foran was stopped last night in Baggot-street, and robbed of his watch and clothes, by four villains who live in Stoney-batter; they are well known, and are advised to take care, as such depredations cannot go long unpunished. The two villains that broke into the house of the Archbishop of Dublin, and murdered the house-maid, will be turned off ‘Lord Temple’s trap,’ on Saturday next; this, will be a lesson to the people about the Cross-Poddle, that we hope may serve to their advantage.”

      “Sir Miles M’Shane begs to inform the person who found his shoe-buckle after the last levee, that he will receive one and eight pence reward for the same, by bringing it to No. 2, Ely-place; or if he prefer it, Sir Miles will toss up who keeps the pair. They are only paste, and not diamond, though mighty well imitated.”

      “Paste!” echoed Mrs. Branahan; “the lying thieves!” her notions on the score of that material being limited to patties and pie-crusts.

      “The ‘Bucks’ are imitating the ladies in all the arts of beautifying the person. – Many were seen painted and patched at the duchess’s last ball. We hope this effeminacy may not spread any farther. – It is Mr. Rigby, and not Mr. Harper, is to have the silk gown. Sir George Rose is to get the red ribbon for his services in North America.”

      “A silk gown and a red ribbon!” cried Mrs. Branaghan. “Bad luck to me, but they might be ashamed of themselves.”

      “Faix, I never believed what Darby Long said before,” broke in Kerry. “He tould me he saw the bishop of Cork in a black silk petticoat like a famale. Is there no more murders, Mickey?”

      “I don’t know, sir, barrin’ they’re in the fashionable intelligence.”

      “Well, read on.”

      “Donald, the beast, who refused to leave his cell in Trim gaol at the last assizes, and was consequently fired at by a file of infantry, had his leg amputated yesterday by Surgeon Huston of this town, and is doing remarkably well.”

      “Where’s the sporting news?” said Kerry. “Is not this it, here?” as he pointed to a figure of a horse above a column.

      “Mr. Connolly’s horse, Gabriel, would have been in first, but he stopped to eat Whaley, the jockey, when he fell. The race is to be run again on Friday next. It was Mr. Daly, and not Mr. Crosbie, horse-whipped the attorney over the course last Tuesday. Mr. Crosbie spent the day with the Duke of Leinster, and is very angry at his name being mentioned in the wrong, particularly as he is bound over to keep the peace towards all members of the bar for three years.”

      “Captain Heavyside and Mr. Malone exchanged four shots each on the Bull this morning. The quarrel was about racing and politics, and miscellaneous matters.”

      “It is rumoured that if the Chief Justice be appointed from England, he will decline giving personal satisfaction to the Master of the Rolls; but we cannot credit the report – ”

      “The Carmelites have taken Banelagh-house for a nunnery.”

      “That’s the only bit in the paper I’d give the snuff of my pipe for,” said Mrs. Branaghan. “Read it again, acushla.”

      The boy re-read the passage.

      “Well, well, I wonder if Miss Kate will ever come back again,” said she, in a pause.

      “To be sure she will,” said Kerry; “what would hinder her? hasn’t she a fine fortune out of the property? ten thousand, I heerd the master say.”

      “Ayeh! sure it’s all gone many a day ago; the sorra taste of a brass farthen’s left for her or any one else. The master sould every stick an’ stone in the place, barrin’ the house that’s over us, and sure that’s all as one as sould too. Ah, then, Miss Kate was the purty child, and had the coaxing ways with her.”

      “‘Tis a pity to make her a nun,” said Kerry.

      “A pity! why would it be a pity, Kerry O’Leary?” said the old lady, bristling up with anger. “Isn’t the nuns happier, and dacenter, and higher nor other women, with rapscallions for husbands, and villians of all kinds for childher? Is it the likes of ye, or the crayture beside ye, that would teach a colleen the way to heaven? Musha, but they have the blessed times of it – fastin’ and prayin’, and doing all manner of penance, and talking over their sins with holy men.”

      “Whisht! what’s that? there’s the bell ringing above stairs,” said Kerry, suddenly starting up

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