short cut
across one of his own fields, he got before Art, and turning the angle
of a hedge, met him trotting along at his usual pace.

"Well, Art, where now?"

"To the crass roads, your honor."

"Art, is not this a fine place of mine? Look at these groves, and the
lawn, and the river there, and the mountains behind all. Is it not equal
to Sir William E-----'s?"

Sir William was Art's favorite patron.

"Sir William, your honor, has all this at his place."

"But I think my views are finer."

"They're fine enough," replied Art; "but where's the lake afore the
door?"

The Squire said no more about his prospects.

"Art," he continued, "would you carry a letter from me to M-----?"

"I'll be wantin' somethin' to dhrink on the way," said Art.

"You shall get something to eat and drink before you go," said the
Squire, "and half-a-crown for your trouble."

"Augh," exclaimed Art, "be dodda, sir, you're nosed like Sir William,
and chinned like Captain Taylor." This was always Art's compliment when
pleased.

The Squire brought him up to the house, ordered him refreshment, and
while Art partook of it, wrote a _letter of mittimus_ to the county
jailor, authorizing him to detain the bearer in prison until he should
hear further from him.

Art, having received the half-crown and the letter, appeared delighted;
but, on hearing the name of the person to whom it was addressed, he
smelt a trick. He promised faithfully, however, to deliver it, and
betrayed no symptoms whatever of suspicion. After getting some distance
from the big house, he set his wits to work, and ran over in his mind
the names of those who had been most in the habit of annoying him. At
the head of this list stood Phelim O'Toole, and on Phelim's head did
he resolve to transfer the revenge which the Squire, he had no doubt,
intended to take on himself.

With considerable speed he made way to Larry O'Toole's, where such a
scene presented itself as made him for a moment forget the immediate
purport of his visit.

Opposite Phelim, dressed out in her best finery, stood the housekeeper,
zealously insisting' on either money or marriage. On one side of him
stood old Donovan and his daughter, whom he had forced to come, in the
character of a witness, to support his charges against the gay deceiver.
On the other were ranged Sally Flattery, in tears, and her uncle in
wrath, each ready to pounce upon Phelim.

Phelim stood the very emblem of patience and good-hu