be supposed that among the crowd that was assembled around
the inn door there were not a number of waggish characters, who felt
strongly inclined to have, if possible, a hearty laugh at the great
conjurer. No matter what state of society may exist, or what state of
feeling may prevail, there will always be found a class of persons who
are exceptions to the general rule. Whilst the people were chatting
in wonder and admiration, not without awe and fear, concerning the
extraordinary knowledge and power of the conjurer, a character peculiar
to all times and all ages made his appearance, and soon joined them.
This was one of those circulating, unsettled vagabonds, whom, like
scum, society, whether agitated or not, is always sure to throw on the
surface. The comical miscreant no sooner made his appearance than, like
Liston, when coming on the stage, he was greeted with a general roar of
laughter.

"So," said he, "you have a conjurer above. But wait a while; by the
powdhers o' delf Rantin' Rody's the boy will try his mettle. If he can
look farther than his nose, I'm the lad will find it out. If he doesn't
say I'll be hanged, he knows nothing about his business. I have myself
half-a-dozen hangmen engaged to let me down aisy; it's a death I've a
great fancy for, and, plaise God, I'm workin' honestly to desarve it.
Which of you has a cow to steal? for, by the sweets o' rosin, I'm low in
cash, and want a thrifle to support nather; for nather, my boys, must be
supported, and it was never my intintion to die for want o' my vittles;
aitin' and drinkin' is not very pleasant to most people, I know, but I
was born wid a fancy for both."

"Rantin' Rody, in airnest, will you go up and have your fortune tould?"

"But wait," he proceeded; "wait, I say,--wait,--I have it." And as he
said so he went at the top of his speed down the street, and disappeared
in Sol Donnel's cabin.

"By this and by that," said one of them, "Rtn'tin' Rody will take spunk
out of him, if it's in him."

"I think he had better have notin' to do wid him," said an old woman,
"for fraid he'd rise the devil--Lord guard us! Sure it's the same man
that was in this very town the night he was _riz_ before, and that the
bonfire for Suil Balor (the eye of Balor, or the Evil Eye) Woodward was
drowned by a shower of blood. Troth I wouldn't be in the same Woodward's
coat for the wealth o' the world. As for Rantin' Rody, let him take care
of himself. It's never safe to sport