die,
you'll be the death of one fool, any how. What do you know that wasn't
ever in Cork itself about tripes. I never ate such mate in my life;
and 'twould be good for every poor man in the County of Kerry if he
had a tub of it."

Tim's tone of authority, and the character he had got for learning,
silenced every doubt, and all laid siege to the tripes again. But
after some time, Andy was observed gazing with the most astonished
curiosity into the plate before him. His eyes were rivetted on
something; at last he touched it with his knife, arid exclaimed,
"_Kirhappa, dar dhia!_"--[A button by G--.]

"What's that you say?" burst from all! and every one rose in the best
manner he could, to learn the meaning of the button.

"Oh, the villain of the world!" roared Andy, "I'm pisoned! Where's the
pike? For God's sake Jack, run for the priest, or I'm a dead man with
the breeches. Where is he?--yeer bloods won't ye catch him, and I
pisoned?"

The fact was, Andy had met one of the knee-buttons sewed into a piece
of the tripe, and it was impossible for him to fail discovering the
cheat. The rage, however, was not confined to Andy. As soon as it was
understood what had been done, there was an universal rush for Paddy
and Jillen; but Paddy was much too cunning to be caught, after the
narrow escape he had of it before. The moment after the discovery of
the lining, that he could do so without suspicion, he stole from the
table, left the house, and hid himself. Jillen did the same; and
nothing remained for the eaters, to vent their rage, but breaking
every thing in the cabin; which was done in the utmost fury. Andy,
however, continued watching for Paddy with a gun, a whole month after.
He might be seen prowling along the ditches near the shebeen-house,
waiting for a shot at him. Not that he would have scrupled to enter
it, were he likely to find Paddy there; but the latter was completely
on the _shuchraun_, and never visited his cabin except by stealth. It
was in one of those visits that Andy hoped to catch him.

--_Tait's Edinburgh Magazine_.

* * * * *

CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON.

_By the Countess of Blessington_.

One of our first rides with Lord Byron was to Nervi, a village on
the sea-coast, most romantically situated, and each turn of the road
presenting various and beautiful prospects. They were all familiar to
him, and he failed not to point them out, but in very sober terms,
n