boe,* cries the Fitzadelms, who were in the English army below, encouraging their men that appeared on the ramparts above: Lambh-laidre-aboe,† shouts Macarthy More, from the postern, like a flame of fire, bearing down all before him ;-the English retreat: the war-horn of the Macarthies is heard through the mountains; the Macarthies carry the day. Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!"

O'Leary was now waving his hat in the air triumphantly, and transported beyond the present moment, when "the vile squeaking of a wry-necked fife," and the roll of a drum, broke the thread of his ideas; and to the fancied engagements of the Irish and English cohorts of Queen Elizabeth's day, the gallowglasses of the Macartnies, and the bow

ery

"The cause of the red stranger;" the war. of of the Norman families in Ireland. many +"The cause of the strong hand,” the war. cry of the Macartnies.

men of St. Leger, succeeded the NewTown Mount Crawley supplementary auxiliary yeomanry legion, a corps newly raised by Mr. Crawley, which stepped along the pathway of a very narrow road it nearly occupied, to the tune of

the Protestant Boys," that, on the appearance of O'Leary, was instantly changed to "Croppies lie down." To judge by the appearance of this evidently new raised corps, their leader, like Falstaff, had

"Misused the king's press most d-mnably;" and whether it were, or were not, made up of "revolted tapsters," and "hostlers trade-fallen," its members presented a most unsoldier-like appearance. There gleamed, however, through their awkward gate, and clumsy carriage, a consciousness of superiority, perhaps, both religious and military, which gave the last finish of ridicule to their exhibition: take them altogether,

66 No eye

had seen such scarecrows."

The manner in which they had hustled O'Leary off the pathway, the wellknown tune, and its well-known meaning, operated like a pell upon his agitated mind: he stopped short, till they had marched by; and then, wholly disenchanted from his splendid dreams, the Irish Macarthies, and the Norman Fitzadelms, vanished from his thoughts, and a third epoch in the history of his country was recalled to his recollection: this little image of local power,and petty ascendency, changed the current of his ideas, and with a deep sigh he added, "And now 'tis the reign of the Crawleys."

"Then let us hasten to their court baron," returned the Commodore, smiling, or we may be too late for an audience, O'Leary."

65

All the circumstances of the immediate moment now flashed full through the mental confusion of O'Leary. The anonymous letter, Lord Fitzadelm incog

nito, the circumventing, the Crawley faction, were incidents which rapidly arranged themselves in his imagination. Recovering his composure, his spirits, and his vindictiveness, he gradually assumed the shrewd,animated, and important look he had worn, ere traces of his former hallucination had been awakened by a supposed or real resemblance to the object, whose loss had, for a time, bereft him of reason: the idea that the stranger was the brother of the Marquis of Dunore had now taken possession of his mind, with all the pertinacity incidental to his former malady; and persuaded that the ruin of the Crawley faction, as he termed it, was at hand, he neither speculated, nor reasoned upon the probable means by which that event was to be consummated. His hatred of that family had its source in the strongest feelings, and most fixed prejudices of his nature; and, like the rest of his countrymen, of his own class, his revenge was proportionate to his

devotion and fidelity. A few words, dropped at intervals, made up the conversation during the rest of their walk; he spoke of the stranger looking older than he ought, of his being "mighty tanned by foreign parts;" he asked if Mr. Crawley had seen him when in London, which being answered in the negative, he expressed his fear that a family likeness might be traced; and his hope that TORNEY CRAWLEY would be caught by his lordship in all his glory; for this was one of his great days, when people came to him from all parts of the county for law, justice, and money.

"There is New-Town Mount Crawley, plaze your honor," said O'Leary, pointing to a few slightly-built red brick houses: "sorrow call there was, at all at all, for them slips of card buildings, only to crush the ancient city of Ballydab, handy by. And there's the new barracks and the mail-coach road that is