will
enunciate a toast, and although we shall not draw very strongly upon
sentiment for the terms, it shall be plain and pithy; here is 'that the
saddle of infamy may be soon placed upon the right horse,' and maybe
there's an individual not a thousand miles from us, and who is besides
not altogether incognizant of the learned languages, including a
tolerably comprehensive circle of mathematics, who will, to a certain
extent, contribute to the consummation of that most desirable event;
here then, I repate, is the toast--'may the saddle of infamy soon be
placed upon the right horse!'"

Having drunk off the glass, he turned the mouth of it down upon his
corduroy breeches, as an intimation that he might probably find it
necessary to have recourse to it again.

Hanna observed, or rather we should say, felt, that as Finigan proceeded
with his reminiscences of M'Mahon's school-boy days and the enumeration
of his virtues, her sister's heart and bosom quivered with deep and
almost irrepressible emotion. There was a good deal of enthusiasm in the
man's manner, because he was in earnest, and it was quite evident that
Kathleen's spirit had caught it as he went along, and that her heart
recognized the truth of the picture which he was drawing. We say she
literally felt the quiverings of her sister's heart against her own,
and to do the admirable girl justice, she rejoiced to recognize these
manifestations of returning affection.

"It was only yesterday," continued Finigan, resuming the discourse,
"that I met Bryan M'Mahon, and by the way, he has sorrow and distress,
poor fellow, in his face. 'Bryan,' said I, 'is it true that you and
your father's family are preparing to go to that _refugium peccatorum_,
America--that overgrown cupping-glass which is drawing the best blood of
our country out of it?'

"'The people of Ireland,' he replied, 'have a right to bless God that
there is such a country to fly to, and to resave them from a land
where they're neglected and overlooked. It is true, Mr. O'Finigan,' he
proceeded--!' we have nothing in this country to live for now.'

"'And so you are preparing?' I asked.

"'I ought rather say,' he replied, 'that we are prepared; we go in
another month; I only wish we were there already.'

"'I fear, Bryan,' said I, 'that you have not been well trated of late.'
He looked at me with something like surprise, but said nothing; and in
a quarter, I added, 'that was the last from which you were prep