sel'd with an old SENACHY, or genealogist, why then

"O'Leary," said the Commodore, laying his hand familiarly on his shoulder, and eagerly interrupting him, "should you receive me as your guest and disciple, you will find me not difficult to accommodate: my ostensible business in this barony is with a certain Mr. Crawley, but-"

"With who?" asked O'Leary, recoiling in horror," with one Crawley, did you say?"

"With Mr. Crawley of Mount Crawley."

"With him! the land pirate! then, Sir, you cannot housel with me, and so I wish you luck."

With these words, O'Leary, spurring on his little nag, trotted abruptly down a craggy glen, and disappeared. The Commodore stood looking after him till he was out of sight, and marked the path he had taken. Then with a deep

drawn inspiration, as one, who after some enforced restraint, breathes freely, and with a smile almost characterized by sadness, he bent his course towards the town of Dunore.

As the descent of the mountain softened into an undulating valley, the approach to this town became extremely picturesque. The conjunction of many mountain streams formed a considerable river, which flowed under the single arch of an antique bridge, covered with ivy, which stood at the entrance of a poor, but pretty village, announced by

a turf carrier in answer to the Commodore's question, to be BALLYDAB. A rude bleak mountain, which overshadowed this village, and projected into the sea, formed a bold head land. At the distance of two Irish miles, the road joined the high road from Cork and Dublin, and wound to the left of a group of new unfinished houses, the embryo of some rising town, haply in

tended to eclipse the fading glory of the decaying and ancient village of Ballydab. Within a mile of Dunore, the road proceeded by the edge of the bay, at the head of which the town stood, and then appeared to wind along the coast. The town itself (once of note, and of historical interest), was appoached by a stately avenue of trees. Its ancient, but well preserved castle, terminated its narrow street, and presented a striking feature in a scene now tinted by the silvery rays of a cloudless moon. The castle casements were lighted with a fairy illumination by its beams; and the rippling tide, tinged with the same colouring, gave a gentle motion to a few fishing vessels, which alone occupied a port, once of considerable trade with the opposite shores of Spain, Portugal, and Italy.

T

As the Commodore rode up the street, it was already still and noiseless, save the barking of a dog, which the echo

of the horse's feet had roused. Two lanterns in the front of two opposite houses marked the site of the rival inns. That to the right had a new and gaudy sign flaunting in the breeze; and, under a profusion of gilding, yellow ochre, and whitelead, was written THE NEW DUNORE ARMS.

The faded sign of its inferior competitor exhibited a dancing bear, scarcely distinguishable, under which was written, in large fresh black letters, This is the real ould Marquis of Dunore. The Commodore chose the real old Marquis; and a tolerable supper, and a clean bed, left him nothing to repent of his election. The next morning, fatigued by his mountain ride, he rose late; and was surprised to find upon his breakfast table a note, directed "To his honour, the gentleman at the ould Bear, who arrived last night, these." He opened and read as follows:—

Right honorable,

According to the advisement of my better judgment, I herein complie with your requist this tyme, in regard of the lodgement in the Friar's room; videlicet Fra Denis O'Sullivan, superior of the order, now in Portugal, via Cork, where he bides at this present writing, pending the visitation. He being likely to put the autumn over in foreign parts, the place thereby being vaquent, the floor clean sanded, and the stone belted window giving on the sea-coast, ill befitting your honor howsomever, or your likes, being righte worthie of Dunore Castle, which is nothing to nobody, sithe your honor think it fit. Touchinge the pintion thereof, should your honor consent to housel with me, it shall be left to your honor's liberalities; the lucre of gain, but little weighing; and if there be juste cause of complaynte touchinge ye unruliness of my