h stood as motionless as if they had been carved of marble.
Notwithstanding all these auspicious appearances, there were visible to
a clear observer of nature some significant symptoms of a change. The
surfaces of pools and rivers were covered with large white bubbles,
which are always considered as indications of coming rain. The dung
heaps, and the pools generally attached to them, emitted a fetid and
offensive smell; and the pigs were seen to carry straw into their sties,
or such rude covers as had been constructed for them.

In the meantime the dinner party in Lindsay's were enjoying themselves
in a spirit quite as genial as his hospitality. It consisted of two
or three country squires, a Captain Dowd--seldom sober--a pair of twin
brothers, named Gumming, with a couple of half sirs--a class of persons
who bore the same relation to a gentleman that a salmon-trout does to
a salmon. The Protestant clergyman of the parish was there--a jocund,
rattling fellow, who loved his glass, his dog, his gun, and, if fame did
not belie him, paid more devotion to his own enjoyments than he did to
his Bible. He dressed in the extreme of fashion, and was a regular dandy
parson of that day. There also was! Father Magauran, the parish priest,
a rosy-faced, jovial little man, with a humorous! twinkle in his blue
eye, and an anterior rotundity of person that betokened a moderate
relish for the convivialities. Altogether it was a merry meeting; and of
the host himself it might be said that he held as conspicuous a place in
the mirth as he did in the hospitality.

"Come, gentleman," said he, after the ladies had retired to the
withdrawing-room, "come, gentlemen, fill high; fill your glasses."

"Troth," said the priest, "we'd put a heap on them, if we could."

"Right, Father Magauran; do put a heap on them, if you can; but, at all
events, let them be brimmers; I'm going to propose a toast."

"Let it be a lady, Lindsay, if you love me," said the parson, filling
his glass.

"Sorra hair I care if it is," said the priest, "provided she's dacent
and attends her duty; go on, squire; give us her name at once, and don't
keep the parson's teeth watering."

"Be quiet, reverend gentlemen," said Lindsay, laughing; "how can a man
speak when you take the words out of his mouth?"

"The Lord forbid we'd swallow them, though," subjoined the parson; "if
we did, we'd not be long in a state of decent sobriety."

"Talk about something you understand, my