he Major. 'Put on the cap;
and see too, he has sent a whip--that was very thoughtful of Dillon. But
what's this letter here? for you, I think, Mr. Hinton.'

The letter was in a lady's hand; I broke the seal and read as follows:--

'Mount Brown, Wednesday Evening.'

'Dear Sir,--My uncle Dillon requests that you will give us the pleasure
of your company to dinner to-morrow at six o'clock. I have taken the
liberty to tell him that as we are old acquaintances you will perhaps
kindly overlook his not having visited you to-day; and I shall feel
happy if, by accepting the invitation, you will sustain my credit on
this occasion.

'He desires me to add that the racing-jacket, etc, are most perfectly at
your service, as well as any articles of horse-gear you may be in want
of.---Believe me, dear sir, truly yours, Louisa Bellow.'

A thrill of pleasure ran through me as I read these lines; and,
notwithstanding my efforts to conceal my emotion from my companions,
they but too plainly saw the excitement I felt.

'Something agreeable there! You don't look, Mr. Hinton, as if that were
a latitat or a bill of costs you were reading.'

'Not exactly,' said I, laughing. 'It is an invitation to dinner from
Mount Brown--wherever that may be.'

'The best house in the county,' said the Major; 'and a good fellow he
is, Hugh Dillon. When is it for?'

'To-morrow at six.'

'Well, if he has not asked me to meet you, I 'll invite myself, and we
'll go over together.'

'Agreed,' said I. 'But how shall I send back the answer?'

The Major promised to send his servant over with the reply, which I
penned at once.

'Just tell Hugh,' said the Major, 'that I'll join you.'

I blushed, stammered, and looked confused. 'I am not writing to Mr.
Dillon,' said I, 'for the invitation came through a lady of the family,
Miss Bellew--his niece, I believe.'

'Whew!' said the Major, with a long whistle. 'Is it there we are! Oh, by
the powers, Mr. Hinton! that's not fair--to come down here not only to
win our money in a steeplechase, but to want to carry off the belle of
our county besides. That 'll never do.'

'She doesn't belong to you at all,' said Father Tom; 'she is a
parishioner of mine, and so were her father and grandfather before her.
And moreover than that, she is the prettiest girl, and the best too, in
the county she lives in--and that's no small praise, for it's Galway I'm
talking of. And now here's a bumper to her, and who 'll refuse it?'