s him out so late at night? I mean occasionally. He is out two
or three nights every week until twelve or one o'clock. Now, you
know, in the present state of the country, that it is not safe.
_Shawn-na-Middogue_ and such scoundrels are abroad, and they might put a
bullet through him some night or other.

"He is not at all afraid on that score," replied Charles; "he never goes
out in the evening without a case of pistols freshly loaded."

"Well, but it, is wrong to subject himself to danger. Where is he gone
now?"

"He and Barney Casey have gone out to course; I think they went up
towards the mountains."

Such was the fact. Harry was quite enamoured of sport, and, finding
dogs, guns, and fishing-rods ready to his hand, he became a regular
sportsman--a pursuit in which he found Barney a very able and
intelligent assistant, inasmuch as he knew the country, and every spot
where game of every description was to be had. They had traversed a
considerable portion of rough mountain land, and killed two or three
hares, when the heat of the day became so excessive that they considered
it time to rest and take refreshments.

"The sun, Masther Harry, is d---- hot," said Barney; "and now that ould
Bet Harramount hasn't been in it for many a long year, we may as well
go to that desolate cabin there above, and shelter ourselves from the
hate--not that I'd undhertake to go there by myself; but now that you
are wid me I don't care if I take a peep into the inside of it, out of
curiosity."

"Why," said Woodward, "what about that cabin?"

"I'll tell you that, sir, when we get into it. It's consarnin' coorsin'
too; but nobody ever lived in it since she left it."

"Since who left it?"

"Never mind, sir; I'll tell you all about it by and by."

It was certainly a most desolate and miserable hut, and had such an
air of loneliness and desertion about it as was calculated to awaken
reflections every whit as deep and melancholy as the contemplation of
a very palace in ruins, especially to those who, like Barney, knew the
history of its last inhabitant. It was far up in the mountains, and not
within miles of another human habitation. Its loneliness and desolation
alone would not have made it so peculiarly striking and impressive
had it been inhabited; but its want of smoke--its still and lifeless
appearance--the silence and the solitude around it--the absence of
all symptoms of human life--its significant aspect of destitution and
pove