or to the agreeable ditties of "Adieu, ye
shinin' daisies, I loved you well and long," as sung by him, with an
accompaniment. Then there was Misther Moriarty's, the attorney, a great
man in the petty sessions, a bitter pill for all the country gentlemen;
he was always raking up knotty cases of their decisions, and reporting
them to the _Limerick Vindicator_ under the cognomen of "Brutus" or
"Coriolanus." I could just see by the faint light that his house had
been raised a storey higher, and little iron balconies, like railings,
stuck to the drawing-room windows.

'Next came my aunt's. There it was: my foot was on the door where I
stood as a child, my little heart wavering between fears of the unknown
world without and hopes of doing something--Heaven knows what!--which
would make me a name hereafter. And there I was now, after years of
toil and peril of every kind, enough to have won me distinction, success
enough to have made me rich, had either been but well directed; and yet
I was poor and humble, as the very hour I quitted that home. I sat down
on the steps, my heart heavy and sad, my limbs tired, and before many
minutes fell fast asleep, and never awoke till the bright sun was
shining gaily on one side of the little street, and already the
preparations for the coming day were going on about me. I started up,
afraid and ashamed of being seen, and turned into the little ale-house
close by, to get my breakfast. Joe himself was not forthcoming; but a
fat, pleasant-looking, yellow-haired fellow, his very image, only some
dozen years younger, was there, bustling about among some pewter
quarts and tin measures, arranging tobacco-pipes, and making up little
pennyworths of tobacco.

'"Is your name M'Evoy?" said I.

'"The same, at your service," said he, scarce raising his eyes from his
occupation.

'"Not Joe M'Evoy?"

'"No, sir, Ned M'Evoy; the old man's name was Joe."

'"He 's dead, then, I suppose?"

'"Ay, sir; these eight years come Micklemass. Is it a pint or a naggin
of sperits?"

'"Neither; it's some breakfast, a rasher and a few potatoes, I want
most. I'll take it here, or in the little room."

'"Faix, ye seem to know the ways of the place," said he, smiling, as he
saw me deliberately push open a small door, and enter a little parlour
once reserved for favourite visitors.

'"It's many years since I was here before," said I to the host, as
he stood opposite to me, watching the progress I was making with