his weapon by the groans
of the mob, who unequivocally showed that they would not permit foul
play, and being thus unarmed, could make nothing of an adversary whose
contemptible appearance caused all the ridicule of the scene. Meanwhile
the little fellow, his clothes in rags, and his head surmounted by a
red Cossack mutcka, capered about like nothing human, uttering the most
frightful sounds of rage and passion; at length, in a paroxysm of fury,
he dealt the tall Cossack a rap on the temples which made him reel
again. Scarcely had the blow descended, when, stung by the insult and
the jeers of the mob, the enraged savage grasped his knife; with one
spring he pounced upon the little man; but as he did so a strong hand
from behind seized him by the collar, and with one tremendous jerk
hurled him back upon the crowd, where he fell stunned and senseless.

[Illustration: 3-143]

I had only time to perceive that it was O'Grady who had come to the
rescue, when the little old fellow, turning fully round, looked up in
his protector's face, and, without evincing any emotion of surprise or
wonder or even of gratitude, croaked out--

'And it's standin' looking on ye wor all the time, and I fighting my
sowle out! Ugh! bad luck to service! Look at my coat and small-clothes!
Ay, you might laugh, ye grinning bastes as ye are--and a basket of fresh
eggs in smithereens, and this Friday!'

The convulsions of laughter which this apparition and the speech excited
prevented our hearing more. The mob, too, without understanding a word,
were fully sensible of the absurdity of the scene, and a perfect chorus
of laughter rang through the street.

'And my elegant beaver, see it now!' said Corny--for we hope our
reader recognises him--as he endeavoured to empty the batter from his
head-piece, and restore it to shape. 'Ugh! the Haythins! the Turks! see
now, Master Phil, it's warning I'm giving you this minit--here, where
I stand. May the divil---- Ah, if ye dare, ye eternal robber!' This
elegant exordium was directed to the poor Cossack, who, having regained
his feet, was skulking away from the field, throwing as he went a
lingering look at his red cap, which Mr. Delany still wore as a spoil of
his victory.

We now made our way through the crowd, followed by Corny, whose angry
looks on every side elicited peals of laughter; and thus accompanied
we approached the massive _porte cochere_ of a large hotel in the Place
Vendome, where a Swiss, in