had before asked the question, "for whom do you take me?"

"For Lord Adelm Fitzadelm,” replied O'Leary, with a respectful bow. "The cadet of the twin sons of Gerald Baron Fitzadelm, commonly called the Red Baron, himself the cadet of the father of the son, and heir that would have been if"

O'Leary paused: his voice faltered; and after a moment's silence, the Commodore observed,

"It is strange that you should take me for the Lord Fitzadelm. For what purpose should he come incognito into this neighbourhood?"

"For every purpose in life, your honor, and the best of purposes, to circumvent them land pirates, them plothunters, them trianglers! them-them Crawley thieves. Bachal Essu! only let me live to see that day, and then doesn't care how soon I'm carried feet foremost to the berring ground of

the pobble O'Leary, near St. Crohan's County Kerry: for its little else is left for me now to live for but to die."

"And for this strange tissue of improbability, what grounds have you, O'Leary? Why should Lord Fitzadelm come over in disguise to circumvent, as you call it, his mother's agent?"

"If you don't believe me, your honor," interrupted O'Leary, losing the supposed identity of the person he was addressing in the incoherency of his always confused ideas, "will you believe your own eyes, Sir; that's my Lord, I mane?''

He drew forth a letter from his pocket as he spoke, and the Commodore took it to the little casement, and read as follows:

"A distinguished looking stranger will shortly present himself to the learned and sagacious Terence Oge O'Leary: should he propose himself as a tenant

for the Reverend Mr. O'Sullivan's vacant apartments, he will do well to accept him. Terence Oge O'Leary may have heard that Lord Adelm Fitzadelm will shortly be in the Peninsula of Dunore, to circumvent the machinations of the Crawley faction, and will there be incognito. None but the well-wishers of the Crawleys would refuse to assist Lord Adelm in a temporary concealment, necessary for the effecting of his laudable purposes."

After a frequent and amazed perusal of this billet, the Commodore demanded how this strange letter reached O'Leary.

"I found it," he replied, "after the dawn of day."

"Found it?"

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Aye, did I, troth, and marvelled much to see it fixed in the latch of the out-side door of the chauntry; and was mighty loath to break the sale, and didn't, only just skimmed round it."

The Commodore, on examining the seal, found it bore the figure of a child, plucking the thorns from a rose, with the motto:

Sou utile ainda que Bricando.*

"And have you no idea from whom this letter comes?" asked the Commodore, after another pause, and some evident perplexity of idea.

"I have, plaze your honor, that's your lordship, I mane; every iday in life, it comes from the good people: often they do the likes of that kind turn by their pets-that's the fairies, my Lord."

"In this instance, however," returned the Commodore, smiling, "they have done you an ill turn; for if they mean to impress you with an idea that I am Lord Adelm Fitzadelm, they most certainly deceive you."

"Oh! very well, Sir," returned O'Leary, with a most obstinate look of incredulity, as your lordship willeth,

* I am useful in sportiveness.

that's your honor, I mane, now, Sir," if its Sir you plase to be."

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Supposing," said the Commodore, that even it were Lord Adelm who sought concealment under your roof, surely you would not defeat his intentions, by persisting in giving him a title, which would at once reveal his rank, or at least awaken suspicion."

"Is it me! och! I'd be very sorry ! and will be bound, I'll never call your lordship my lord, if you was in it till the day of judgment, only when we are alone, Sir, and nobody by, barring our two selves, and can pass you as a tinnant come to bathe in the salt water, Sir, and need never name your honor at all, Sir, only pass you for my lodger."

"You will then pass me for what I am anxious to become, O'Leary; I will therefore look at the apartment you mean me to occupy. You shall name your own terms; and I dare say you have some old dame, who is wont to