now, what occasioned that
feeling, Bryan?"

"It's by the merest chance that I happen to have the cause of it in my
pocket," replied M'Mahon, who, as he spoke, handed him the letter which
Peety Dhu had delivered to him from Hycy himself. "Read that," said he,
"and I think you'll have no great trouble in understanding why I felt
as I did;--an' indeed, Hycy, to tell you the truth, I never had the same
opinion of you since." Hycy, to his utter amazement, read as follows:

"My Dear Miss Cavanagh:--

"Will you permit little Cupid, the god of Love, to enrol the name of
Hycy Burke on the long list of your adorers? And if you could corrupt
the little stone-blind divinity to blot out every name on it but my own,
I should think that a very handsome anticipation of the joys of Paradise
could be realized by that delightful fact. I say anticipation--for my
creed is, that the actual joys of Paradise exist no where, but within
the celestial circle of your ambrosial arms. That is the Paradise which
I propose to win; and you may rest assured that I shall bring the most
flaming zeal, the most fervent devotion, and all the genuine piety of
a true worshipper, to the task of attaining it. I shall carry, for
instance, a little Bible of Love in my pocket--for I am already a
divinity student or a young collegian under little Cupid aforesaid--and
I will have it all dogeared with refreshing texts for my edification.
I should state, however, that I am, as every good Christian is, awfully
exclusive in my creed; and will suffer no one, if I can prevent it, to
approach the Paradise I speak of but myself. In fact I am as jealous as
the very Deuce--whoever that personage may be--quite an Othello in my
way--a perfect raw-head-and-bloody-bones--with a sharp appetite and
teeth like a Walrus, ready to bolt my rivals in dozens. It is said,
my divine creature, or rather it is hinted, that a certain clodhopping
boor, from the congenial wilds of Ahadarra, is favored by some benignant
glances from those lights of yours that do mislead the moon. I hope this
is not so--bow wow!--ho! ho!--I smell the blood of a rival; and be he
great or small, red or black, or of any color in the rainbow, I
shall have him for my. breakfast--ho! ho! You see now, my most divine
Kathleen, what a terrible animal to all rivals and competitors for your
affections I shall be; and that if it were only for their own sakes, and
to prevent carnage and cannibalism, it will be well for you