ds and forwards, and from
one side to the other--all at once too--in a manner so perfectly addling
that it was not before we reached the first turnpike that I succeeded in
arresting our progress. Here a short halt was necessary for the priest
to recover himself, and to examine whether either his bones or any
portion of the harness had given way. Both had happily been found proof
against mishaps, and drew from the reverend father strong encomiums upon
their merits; and after a brief delay we resumed our road, but at a much
more orderly and becoming pace than before.

Once more _en route_, I bethought me it was high time to inquire about
the direction we were to travel, and the probable length of our journey;
for I confess I was sadly ignorant as to the geography of the land we
were travelling, and the only point I attempted to keep in view was the
number of miles we were distant from the capital The priest's reply was,
however, anything but instructive to me, consisting merely of a long
catalogue of names, in which the syllables 'kill,' 'whack,' 'nock,'
'shock,' and 'bally' jostled and elbowed one another in the rudest
fashion imaginable--the only intelligible portion of his description
being, that a blue mountain scarcely perceptible in the horizon lay
about half-way between us and Murranakilty.

My attention was not, however, permitted to dwell on these matters;
for my companion had already begun a narrative of the events which had
occurred during my illness. The Dillons, I found, had left for Dublin
soon after my mishap. Louisa Bellew returned to her father; and Mr.
Burke, whose wound had turned out a more serious affair than was at
first supposed, was still confined to his bed, and a lameness for life
anticipated as the inevitable result of the injury.

'Sir Simon, for once in his life,' said the priest, 'has taken a correct
view of his nephew's character, and has, now that all danger to life is
past, written him a severe letter, reflecting on his conduct. Poor
Sir Simon! his life has been one tissue of trial and disappointment
throughout. Every buttress that supported his venerable house giving
way, one by one, the ruin seems to threaten total downfall, ere the old
man exchanges the home of his fathers for his last narrow rest beside
them in the churchyard. Betrayed on every hand, wronged and ruined, he
seems merely to linger on in life--like the stern-timbers of some mighty
wreck, that marks the spot where once t