him among the prisoners. "Keep
your head up, you villain, an' don't be ashamed to look your friends in
the face. It won't be hard to identify you, at any rate, you scoundrel.
A glimpse of that phiz, even by starlight, would do you, you dog. Jack,
tell Mr. S. to bring in the gintlemen--they're all ready."

Phelim's dismay on finding himself under drill with such a villainous
crew was indescribable. He attempted to parley with the turnkey, but was
near feeling the weight of his heavy keys for daring to approach a man
placed in authority.

While thus chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy, three gentlemen,
accompanied by the jailer, entered the yard, and walked backward and
forward in front of the prisoners, whose faces and persons they examined
with great care. For a considerable time they could not recognize any
of them; but just as they were about to give up the scrutiny, one of the
gentlemen approached Phelim, and looking narrowly into his countenance,
exclaimed,

"Here, jailer, this man I identify. I can-not be mistaken in his face;
the rough visage and drooping eye of that fellow put all doubt as to his
identity out of question. What's his' name?"

"He gives his name, sir, as Arthur Maguire."

"Arthur what, sir?" said another of the turnkeys, looking earnestly
at Phelim. "Why, sir, this is the fellow that swore the alibis for the
Kellys--ay, an' for the Delaneys, an' for the O'Briens. His name is
Phelim O'Toole; an' a purty boy he is, by all report."

Phelim, though his heart sank within him, attempted to banter them out
of their bad opinion of him; but there was something peculiarly dismal
and melancholy in his mirth.

"Why, gintlemen--ha, ha!--be gorra, I'd take it as a convanience--I
mane, as a favor--if you'd believe me that there's a small taste of
mistake here. I was sent by Square S. wid a letter to Mr. S-----t, an'
he gave me fifty ordhers to bring him back an answer this day. As for
Phelim O'Toole, if you mane the rascal that swears the alibis, faith, I
can't deny but I'm as like him, the villain, as one egg is to another.
Bad luck to his 'dhroop,' any how; little I thought that it would ever
bring me into throuble--ha, ha, ha! Mr. S------t, what answer have you
for the Square, sir? Bedad, I'm afeard I'll be late."

"That letter, Master Maguire, or Toole, or whatever your name is,
authorizes me to detain you as a prisoner, until I hear further from Mr.
S."

"I identify him distinctly," said the