k the major in the ribs; but Doctor Quill--God reward
him! he's a great doctor and a funny divil too--he cured him in no time."

"And where is he now, Mike?"

"Just convanient, in a small chapel off the sacristy; and throuble enough
we have to keep him quiet. He gave up the _con_fusion of roses, and took
to punch; and faith, it isn't hymns nor paslams [psalms] he's singing all
night. And they had me there, mixing materials and singing songs, till I
heard the bell for matins; and what between the punch and the prayers, I
never closed my eyes."

"What do they call this convent?"

"It is a hard word, I misremember. It's something like saltpetre. But how's
your honor? It's time to ask."

"Much better, Mike, much better. But as I see that either your drink or
your devotion seems to have affected your nerves, you'd better lie down for
an hour or two. I shall not want you."

"That's just what I can't; for you see I'm making a song for this evening.
The Rangers has a little supper, and I'm to be there; and though I've made
one, I'm not sure it'll do. May be your honor would give me your opinion
about it?"

"With all my heart, Mike; let's hear it."

"Arrah, is it here, before the Virgin and the two blessed saints that's
up there in the glass cases? But sure, when they make an hospital of the
place, and after the major's songs last night--"

"Exactly so, Mike; out with it."

"Well, Ma'am," said he, turning towards the Virgin, "as I suspect you don't
know English, may be you'll think it's my offices I'm singing. So, saving
your favor, here it is."

MR. FREE'S SONG.

AIR,--"_Arrah, Catty, now can't you be asy?_"

Oh, what stories I'll tell when my sodgering's o'er,
And the gallant Fourteenth is disbanded;
Not a drill nor parade will I hear of no more,
When safely in Ireland landed.
With the blood that I spilt, the Frenchmen I kilt,
I'll drive the young girls half crazy;
And some cute one will cry, with a wink of her eye,
"Mister Free, now _why can't you be asy?_"

I'll tell how we routed the squadrons in fight,
And destroyed them all at "Talavera,"
And then I'll just add how we finished the night,
In learning to dance the "bolera;"
How by the moonshine we drank raal wine,
And rose next day fresh as a daisy;
Then some one will cry, with a look mighty sly,
"Arrah, Mickey, _now can't you lie asy?_"

I'll tell how the nights with Sir Arth