they entertained themselves with agreeable
conversation, cards, backgammon, draughts, and an occasional song by Dr.
Toole, who was a florid tenor, and used to give them, 'While gentlefolks
strut in silver and satins,' or 'A maiden of late had a merry design,'
or some other such ditty, with a recitation by plump little
stage-stricken Ensign Puddock, who, in 'thpite of hith lithp,' gave
rather spirited imitations of some of the players--Mossop, Sheridan,
Macklin, Barry, and the rest. So Mervyn, the stranger, by no means
affecting this agreeable society, took his cane and cocked-hat, and went
out--the dark and handsome apparition--followed by curious glances from
two or three pairs of eyes, and a whispered commentary and criticism
from Toole.

So, taking a meditative ramble in 'His Majesty's Park, the Phoenix;'
and passing out at Castleknock gate, he walked up the river, between the
wooded slopes, which make the valley of the Liffey so pleasant and
picturesque, until he reached the ferry, which crossing, he at the other
side found himself not very far from Palmerstown, through which village
his return route to Chapelizod lay.

CHAPTER IV.

THE FAIR-GREEN OF PALMERSTOWN.

There were half-a-dozen carriages, and a score of led horses outside the
fair-green, a precious lot of ragamuffins, and a good resort to the
public-house opposite; and the gate being open, the artillery band,
rousing all the echoes round with harmonious and exhilarating thunder,
within--an occasional crack of a 'Brown Bess,' with a puff of white
smoke over the hedge, being heard, and the cheers of the spectators, and
sometimes a jolly chorus of many-toned laughter, all mixed together, and
carried on with a pleasant running hum of voices--Mervyn, the stranger,
reckoning on being unobserved in the crowd, and weary of the very
solitude he courted, turned to his right, and so found himself upon the
renowned fair-green of Palmerstown.

It was really a gay rural sight. The circular target stood, with its
bright concentric rings, in conspicuous isolation, about a hundred yards
away, against the green slope of the hill. The competitors in their best
Sunday suits, some armed with muskets and some with fowling pieces--for
they were not particular--and with bunches of ribbons fluttering in
their three-cornered hats, and sprigs of gay flowers in their breasts,
stood in the foreground, in an irregular cluster, while the spectators,
in pleasant disorder,