ily, but also to the whole country, and, indeed,
through the medium of ballads, to the greater portion of the kingdom.

"Well, Mrs. Buckley," said he, "did you see her?"

"Oh, bad scran to you, Mr. Reilly! you're the very sarra among the
girls when you could persuade that lovely creature to fall in love with
you--and you a Catholic, an' her a Protestant! May I never, if I think
there's her angil out o' heaven! Devil an angel I think in it could
hould a candle to her for beauty and figure. She only wants the wings,
sir--for they say that all the angels have wings; and upon my conscience
if she had them I know the man she'd fly to."

"But what happened, Mrs. Buckley?"

"Why, I sould some chickens and eggs to the cook, who at wanst knew me,
because I had often sould him chickens and eggs before. He came up to
the hall-door, and--'Well, Mrs. Buckley,' says he, 'what's the news?'
'_Be dhe husth_,' says I, 'before I sell you the chickens, let me ax
is the _Cooleen Bawn_ at home?' 'She is,' says he, lookin' me sharp and
straight in the face; 'do you want her?' 'I would like to see her,' says
I, 'for a minute or two.' 'Ay,' says he, back agin to me, 'you have a
message--and you know besides that she never buys chickens; that's my
business.' 'But,' says I, back agin, 'I was tould by him that you were
faithful, and could be depinded on.' 'Ay,' says he; 'but I thought he
had left the counthry.' 'Troth, then,' says I, 'he's to the fore still,
and won't lave the counthry till he sees her wanst more, at all events.'
'Have you a letther?' 'Betherahin,' says I, 'could you let me see her;
for he tould me to say to her that she is not, to indite letthers to
him, for fraid of discovery.' 'Well,' says he, 'as the master's at home,
I'll have some difficulty in spakin' to her. Devil a move she gives but
he watches; and we got a new servant the other day, and devil a thing
she is but a spy from Sir Robert Whitecraft, and some people say that
her master and she forgot the Gospel between them. Indeed I believe
that's pretty well known; and isn't he a horrid villain to send such a
vagabone to attend and be about the very woman that he expects to be his
own wife?'"

"Don't be so particular in your descriptions, Mrs. Buckley," said
Reilly. "Did you see the _Cooleen Bawn_?"

"Look at that," she replied, opening her hand, and showing him a golden
guinea--"don't you know by that that I seen her? but you must let me go
on my own way. 'Well,' say