"He is in Cork, Sir, and will be till the visitation is over, and then will be in Portugal; and the prayer-book's safe. I saw it with him the day he departed; but what matter is it? Sure there is nothing to prove but that he was murthered fairly, that's drowned by force, vi et armis. I never will believe that he sunk when his boat was overturned. Is it he, that dived and swam like a duck? and often saw him, when nobody would venture out, cut his way through the wild waves that bate the grate Skelegs, and his cot overset, and a thousand ullalues raised from the shore, and he rise like a barnacle from the waves, and gain the land, and scale the stone of pain, as it's called, and reach the spindle, the pilgrim's last station, a bit of rock projecting over the raging sea, the storm bating wildly round him. Och! that was a great sight. Above the world he looked, and above his own lot,

"Auditque ruentes

Sub pedibus ventos et rauca tombrua calcat.”

"And he to be drowned on a fine, calm, moonlight night, when he went out to chase the porpoises; for that was great sport to him; and to fight the sea calves in the caves, under the headlands of Kerry; for he was never aisy but when he was after the seals and the say-dogs, that covered the rocks and slept in the sunshine, or else in the mountains; sometimes chasing the deer with their beautiful spotted skins, or coming home with a string of curlews on his back, barring when he was reading Homer and Ossian, and the Seven Wise Maisters."

"He paused, and again looked earnestly in the Commodore's face; who, musing, rather than listening to this apostrophe of O'Leary, was walking on with a slackened pace, the reins of his horse rolled round his folded arms, when he suddenly asked—

"And where does Mr. O'Sullivan live in Cork ?"

:

"At the Franciscan Friary," said O'Leary and then continued, with a deep sigh, "It's marvellous: and does'nt know where the likeness is with the hat on. Only it's the Fitzadelm mouth, any how-why wouldn't it? and minds, me of the Macarthies More, and Macarthies Reagh of Carberry, who were kin by blood as by descent, marrying through other, ever more, and preserving the family mouth always."

"Oh! by the bye," said the Commodore, abruptly, and throwing off his air of abstraction, "did not this district of Dunore belong anciently to the Macarthies?"

"Did it? Is it Dunore? - The Macarthies, kings of the Coriandri, of the ancient Desmonds, the whole province of Munster, late tyranni! See there, plaze your honor, behind you; that's Dunore Castle, the Dangan-ni-Carthie, the ancient fortress of the Macarthies;

now an English pale castle, as I may say and look there to your left, near the say, at the brow of ould Clotnottyjoy; do you see a fine ancient ould castle? Well, that's Castle M'Carthy, hanging over its depindency, the village of Ballydab, oncet a bishoprick and borough. The castle on a rock, an elliptical conoid, defended by a barbican to the right, and the hall underneath, where Donagh Macarthy held his last court-baron, and his tributaries resorted to him for suit and service, the pobble O'Keefe and the pobble O'Leary.”

"I see nothing but a small square building on the mountain's brow," replied his companion, in vain straining his eyes to view the features of feudal strength described by O'Leary, who saw only in the mind's eye, who now with all the associations of memory and imagination awakened, and with his wonted incoherence, launched into his favourite theme, for the moment forgetful of every other.

"There is the very gabbion Florence Macarthy stood on, when he saw the cannon planted against his only son, then in the Lord President's power, sending the warder word that they kept him as a fair mark to bestow their shot upon. But the constable returned answer, the fear of the boy's life should not make them abandon their country and its cause. Then the Lord President of Munster and his men intrenched themselves between the river here to the left, and the castle forenent you, and planted before it two demi-cannons, and one sacre. Then, Sir, begins the battery to play from the ramparts of the castle; and a breach is made, by a cave under the great hall, the English forcing the warder to the keep; the musketeers, followed by the halberdeers, making their way up the turret stairs, there to the left, the Irish pour down on them heart and hand, hæret pede pes densus que viro vir, man to man, breast to breast. Gal-readh-a