caught hold of a little ragged boy whom he knew, from
his own side of the country, and who had come all the way there, eight
long Irish miles, on the chance of earning sixpence and seeing a hunt.

"Here, Patsy, come here, you born little divil," and he laid hold of
the arm of the brat, who was trying to escape from him--"come and hold
my horse for me--and I'll not forget you."

"Shure, yer honer, Mr Lambert, I can't thin, for I'm afther engaging
myself this blessed minute to Mr Larry Dillon, only he's jist trotted
round to the stables to spake a word to Mick Keogh."

"Don't be lying, you little blackguard; hould the horse, and don't stir
out of that."

"Shure how can I, Mr Lambert, when I've been and guv my word to Mr
Larry?" and the little fellow put his hands behind him, that he might
not be forced to take hold of the reins.

"Don't talk to me, you young imp, but take the horse. I'll not forget
you when I come out. What's the matter with you, you fool; d'ye think
I'd tell you a lie about it?"

Patsy evidently thought he would; for though he took the horse almost
upon compulsion, he whimpered as he did so, and said:

"Shure, Mr Lambert, would you go and rob a poor boy of his chances?--I
come'd all the way from Ballyglass this blessed morning to 'arn a
tizzy, and av' I doesn't get it from you this turn, I'll--" But Lambert
Brown had gone into the house, and on his return after breakfast he
fully justified the lad's suspicion, for he again promised him that he
wouldn't forget him, and that he'd see him some day at Mr Dillon's.

"Well, Lambert Brown," said the boy, as that worthy gentleman rode off,
"it's you're the raal blackguard--and it's well all the counthry knows
you: sorrow be your bed this night; it's little the poor'll grieve for
you, when you're stretched, or the rich either, for the matther of
that."

Very different was the reception Bingham Blake got, as he drove up with
his tandem and tax-cart: half-a-dozen had kept themselves idle, each in
the hope of being the lucky individual to come in for Bingham's
shilling.

"Och, Mr Bingham, shure I'm first," roared one fellow.

But the first, as he styled himself, was soon knocked down under the
wheels of the cart by the others.

"Mr Blake, thin--Mr Blake, darlint--doesn't ye remimber the promise you
guv me?"

"Mr Jerry, Mr Jerry, avick,"--this was addressed to the brother--"spake
a word for me; do, yer honour; shure it was I come all the way from
Ted