tear oozing out-when I gazed at it through the tobacco smoke, as upon the evening star through a cloud-I respected him-upon my honour I did— more than Wallace, Tell, or Kosciusko, names equally mighty and renowned in song. Alas! that the murderer of poor Begbie should have excited in my bosom such exalted emotions.

"I hocuss no man, sir,' said the stranger.

*

*

"I'll tell ye what it is, sir,' said Mr Parchment.

"Then down came Bolus, Parchment, and Heavystern-as for myself, I

*

*

*

* It was then I could

TERENCE O'FLAHERTY.

The deil cam fiddlin' through the town,

And danced awa wi' the exciseman.

BURNS.

Now, if you will just hold your tongue for a short space, I shall tell you all about Terence O'Flaherty, the little, red-headed tailor, who lived down in Kilrandy, just as you pass the door of Dermot Reilly, and get upon the common. I shall tell you all about him and his cross-tempered wife Judy; and how he snuffed, and chatted, and drank poteen with the ould enemy; and how he made the devil a pair of buck. skin breeches, and at last got rid of his wife, and lived happily till he died,—if he be, indeed, dead, which is the only thing concerning him which I don't know about.

Well, then, it happened one winter day, about eleven o'clock at night, that Judy had gone to bed, and left Terence sitting upon the shop-board, patching a pair of corduroy breeches belonging to Father O'Phelim, the parish priest. Now you must know that, before turning into roost, Judy had had a bit of a row with the tailor, and had lent him a thump on the side

of the head with a large three-cornered potatoe, which made his eyes to water; but whether it was the potatoe, or a stiff glass of whisky he had just taken before, that made them to water, I'm sure I do not know. "Ochon!" said Terence, as he stitched away at Father O'Phelim's breeches, " my case is a plaguy bad one, and I am all in a bother what to do."-" As you say, your case is bad enough," spoke some one nigh at hand; and, on raising his eyes from his work, whom did Terence see but a good-looking, dark-faced, elderly gentleman, dressed in black, and having Dutch spectacles upon his nose, seated opposite to him, with his elbows leaning upon the shop-board, his chin supported upon his hands, and his eyes fixed upon O'Flaherty?

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My case, an plaise your honour, is bad enough, in all conscience," quoth Terence; " but I am afraid it must stand as it is, as there is no help for it at all.”

"That is as may be hereafter," observed the stranger. "I know better than you do yourself, that you are as thoroughly henpecked as any man in Ireland.” And that's as true a thing as ever was spoken," said Terence.

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"And then your wife—”

"Arrah, now, plaise your worship, don't say anything about her, for she sleeps in the next room, and will hear every word that comes out of your mouth." "Ah, there you go !" replied the gentleman. wonder, Tailor O'Flaherty, you aren't ashamed of yourself. Devil a word dare you utter above your breath.

"I

Throw off this foolish bondage, and be yourself again. Can't you speak, man?" But Terence was as dumb as a fish, and, instead of answering the worthy ould gentleman, he began to mope and sigh like a quaker, and looked as melancholy as if he were a parson singing the service over the dead.

"Did you hear what I was saying, tailor ?” demanded the gentleman again.

“O yes I did,” quoth Terence, " but my wife-"

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Pugh! pack your wife to the devil can't you ?” "I wish she were there, from the bottom of my sowl," said O'Flaherty.

Now, it would have done your heart good to see how the stranger looked when he heard these words. He took Terence by the hand, and shook him so hard, that the tears started from his finger-ends, and he thought himself in purgatory, or in a worser place.

"Well, tailor, I am glad to hear you say so; blood and wounds! I am; and it is for the purpose of ridding you of Judy that I am here." So spoke the ould gentleman, and Terence, for very joy, threw his arms around him, and hugged him as if he had been his grandfather.

"Och! if it be that your reverence has come about, you are sure the most worthiest carrater in all Kilrandy; and I will follow you to the world's end, and drink your health every day of the year, and every hour of the day."

Now, what think you the ould gentleman did? he took from his side-pocket a small blank paper book,

and a phial of red ink, and a pen, and when he had done this he dipped the pen in the ink, and gave it to Terence, and told him to write his name in a particular part of the book, which he pointed to with his finger. But when Terence was going to do this, he suddenly recollected that he could not write a single letter; but the stranger told him it was no matter, for his mark would do as well. So Terence made his mark, and when he had made it, he inquired if there was any thing more to be done.

"There is nothing more," said the gentleman, "but to make my breeches as fast as you can."-" What breeches, an plaise your honour ?" axed O'Flaherty.

"Now, Terence, aren't you a downright blockhead, not to know what you have put your mark to? Don't you see you engaged to make me a pair of buckskins, on condition that I free you from your wife? and don't you see farther, that if you break the contract, your sowl becomes mine for ever?"

“Ah, you are a rum one!" said Terence, shaking his head, and smiling good-humouredly at the stranger. "But no matter-I shall make you such a pair of buckskins as Counsellor O'Connell might be proud to stuff his legs into. But, remember you are to do for Judy. If you fail to give her a snoozer, you shall neither get my sowl, nor the breeches, recollect, your honour." "Never fear," said the ould gentleman. "As sure as I am a Christian, you may depend upon me-indeed you may, Terence O'Flaherty."

"Your very appearance," rejoined Terence-for