"To the true house-friend, and beloved Irelandish youth.

"'Sera nunquam est ad bonos mores via.'

"WACKERBART, Professor at the Grand-Ducal Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickelisch
Gymnasium."

Another writes,--

"'Wander on roses and forget me not.'

"AMALIA v. NACHTMUTZE,

"GEB. v. SHALAFROCK,"

with a flourish, and the picture mayhap of a rose. Let the reader
imagine some hundreds of these interesting inscriptions, and he will
have an idea of the book.

Turning over the leaves I came presently on DOROTHEA'S hand. There
it was, the little neat, pretty handwriting, the dear old up-and-down
strokes that I had not looked at for many a long year,--the
Mediterranean heath, which grew on the sunniest banks of Fitz-Boodle's
existence, and here found, dear, dear little sprig! in rude Galwagian
bog-lands.

"Look at the other side of the page," says Lynch, rather sarcastically
(for I don't care to confess that I kissed the name of "Dorothea v.
Klingenspohr, born v. Speck" written under an extremely feeble passage
of verse). "Look at the other side of the paper!"

I did, and what do you think I saw?

I saw the writing of five of the little Klingenspohrs, who have all
sprung up since my time.

*****

"Ha! ha! haw!" screamed the impertinent young Irishman, and the story
was all over Connemara and Joyce's Country in a day after.

CHAPTER II.

OTTILIA IN PARTICULAR.

Some kind critic who peruses these writings will, doubtless, have the
goodness to point out that the simile of the Mediterranean heath is
applied to two personages in this chapter--to Ottilia and Dorothea, and
say, Psha! the fellow is but a poor unimaginative creature not to be
able to find a simile apiece at least for the girls; how much better
would WE have done the business!

Well, it is a very pretty simile. The girls were rivals, were beautiful,
I loved them both,--which should have the sprig of heath? Mr. Cruikshank
(who has taken to serious painting) is getting ready for the exhibition
a fine piece, representing Fitz-Boodle on the Urrisbeg Mountain, county
Galway, Ireland, with a sprig of heath in his hand, hesitating, like
Paris, on which of the beauties he should bestow it. In the background
is a certain animal between two bundles of hay; but that I take to
represent the critic, puzzled to which of my young beauties to assign
the choice.

If Dorothea had been as rich as Miss Coutts, and had come to me the next
day after the accident