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medy; and the talents of this accomplished ideologist, neither calculated nor exerted to benefit mankind, confined their lustre to him, they lighted alike to evil or to good.

Views thus opposed, and sentiments thus contrasted, naturally begot frequent and long protracted discussions, as fresh objects afforded themes for observation or reflection; and the travellers had passed the boundaries of the frequently proclaimed county of Tipperary, without interruption to their debate, or any impediment to their journey (such as have been supposed the inevitable concomitants of Irish posting); when the postillion, alighting to lead his horses over a bad step, startled them, by exclaiming aloud-" Why, then, the curse of the divil on ye, Longford-pass, I pray Jasus, for you've joulted the very life out of me, so you have:" then having desired his horses to "get along out of that," he dropped

back, and laying his hand upon the carriage window, entered into conversation with the gentlemen, by strongly advising them to give up the iday of making Thurles their sleeping stage: first, becaise it was the same to his employer whether they went a few miles one way or t'other; and, secondly, becaise that Thurles town would be full of th' army, in respect of changing quarters; two regiments marching to Cork and Kerry, to be sprinkled among the towns and mountain-barracks; and there will be grate biletting the night, and the inn taken up entirely with the officers; and what matter? Shure Holycross was but a dony* bit further, and wouldn't make an hour's differ. There was a new opposition inn in the neighbourhood set up against Thurles, kept by the maister's cousin-germain, Mr.

Dony, small-so used by Spencer.

Dooly, where every thing was nate and clane, and quiet.

"Is Holy-cross a town?" demanded Mr. De Vere, caught by the religious romance of its name (3).

"It is, your honor; that is, it is not a town, Sir, only a township and chapelry; and blessed ground every foot of it, and well may be. Is'nt there a grate big piece of the holy cross itself, the wood of life, buried in the fine ancient ould abbey there, that the travellers be coming to see far and near? And its that, why, plaze your honors, the saying goes, that of all places in the world round, the devil (Christ save us!) daren't ́shew the track of his hoof near that township and troth, gentlemen dear, it would be worth while to go ten mile round any time to see it, only in respect of the lovely fine tomb of th' ould king that's in it, my namesake, Carbrogh O'Brien, King of Limerick. Which

road shall I take, Sir? There lies the turn to Thurles, and there to Holy-cross, your honor."

"I think the quiet inn, the ruined abbey, and O'Brien's tomb, decide it," said the Commodore.

"Unquestionably," replied his companion; and the driver received his orders for Holy-cross. As he turned his horses' heads, a chaise passed before them, taking the Thurles road; and the spectacles, tête, and high crowned hat of Mrs. Magillicuddy, appeared above the magpie's cage, which was suspended at the side of one of the windows.

"Raison de plus,” said Mr. De Vere, sinking back in the carriage. "I would rather fall in with a legion of marching regiments than come in the way of that horrible old woman, and a renewal of her terrifying proposition."

The Commodore smiled. He was amused to observe, that Mrs. Magillicuddy and her magpie had taken pos

session of his companion's susceptible imagination; that the idea of an intimate association with her had become as much the chimera dire of his fancy, as her actual presence would have been the annoyance of his senses, and the destruction of his ease and comfort: he had more than once alluded to the dégout of an atmosphere of Irish snuff and marrow pomatum, to the uninviting images of spectacles and pocket handkerchiefs, pious tracts, and fusty bird-cages. The accident of her going the same rout, and her being enabled to keep pace with them, by their delay at Kildare and Kilkenny (for till the last stage they had travelled with four horses), were conjured into nothing else than a fatality; and even her innocent magpie was considered as an oiseau de mauvais augure.

"You are certain," said the younger traveller, addressing the driver, and pointing to the route taken by the old

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