ies; and some are deficient
in the temper which, subduing our actions to a law, governs and presides
over every moment of our lives, rendering us, even in our periods of
excitement and irritation, amenable to the guidance of our reason. This
was my case; and I felt that notwithstanding all my wishes to avoid a
quarrel with Burke, yet in my heart a lurking spirit urged me to seek
him out and offer him defiance.

While these thoughts were passing through my mind, I suddenly heard a
voice which somehow seemed half familiar to my ear. I listened; it came
from a room of which the window was partly open. I now remembered that
poor Joe lay in that part of the house, and the next moment I knew it
to be his. Placing a ladder against the wall, I crept quietly up till I
could peep into the room. The poor fellow was alone, sitting up in
his bed, with his hunting-cap on, an old whip in his hand, which
he flourished from time to time with no small energy; his cheek was
flushed, and his eye, prominent and flashing, denoted the access of high
fever. It was evident that his faculties, clouded as they were even in
their happiest moments, were now under the wilder influence of delirium.
He was speaking rapidly to himself in a quick undertone, calling the
dogs by name, caressing this one, scolding that; and then, bursting
forth into a loud tally-ho, his face glowed with an ecstatic pleasure,
and he broke forth into a rude chant, the words of which I have
never forgotten, for as he sang them in a voice of wild and touching
sweetness, they seemed the very outpourings of his poor simple heart:--

'I never yet owned a horse or hound,
I never was lord of a foot of ground;
Yet few are richer, I will be bound,
Than me of a hunting morning.

'I 'm far better off nor him that pays,
For though I 've no money, I live at my aise,
With hunting and shooting whenever I plase,
And a tally-high-ho in the morning.

'As I go on foot, I don't lose my sate,
As I take the gaps, I don't break a gate;
And if I'm not first, why I'm seldom late,
With my tally-high-ho in the morning.

'And there's not a man, be he high or low,
In the parts down here, or wherever you go,
That doesn't like poor Tipperary Joe,
With his tally-high-ho in the morning.'

A loud view-holloa followed this wild chant; and then the poor fellow,
as if exhausted by his efforts, sank back in the bed mutterin