I, "if the doctor keep his word, it all goes well; the
whole affair is between us both solely; but, should it not be so, I may
shoot half the mess before the other half would give up quizzing me."
Revolving such pleasant thought, I betook myself to bed, and what with
mulled port, and a blazing fire, became once more conscious of being a
warm-blooded animal, and feel sound asleep, to dream of doctors, strait
waistcoats, shaved heads, and all the pleasing associations my late
companion's narrative so readily suggested.

CHAPTER XV.

MEMS. OF THE NORTH CORK.

At six o'clock I had the pleasure of presenting the worthy Doctor
Finucane to our mess, taking at the same time an opportunity, unobserved
by him, to inform three or four of my brother officers that my friend was
really a character, abounding in native drollery, and richer in good
stories than even the generality of his countrymen.

Nothing could possibly go on better than the early part of the evening.
Fin, true to his promise, never once alluded to what I could plainly
perceive was ever uppermost in his mind, and what with his fund of
humour, quaintness of expression, and quickness at reply, garnished
throughout by his most mellifluous brogue, the true "Bocca Corkana," kept
us from one roar of laughter to another. It was just at the moment in
which his spirits seemed at their highest, that I had the misfortune to
call upon him for a story, which his cousin Father Malachi had alluded to
on the ever-memorable evening at his house, and which I had a great
desire to hear from Fin's own lips. He seemed disposed to escape telling
it, and upon my continuing to press my request, drily remarked,

"You forget, surely, my dear Mr. Lorrequer, the weak condition I'm in;
and these gentlemen here, they don't know what a severe illness I've been
labouring under lately, or they would not pass the decanter so freely
down this quarter."

I had barely time to throw a mingled look of entreaty and menace across
the table, when half-a-dozen others, rightly judging from the Doctor's
tone and serio-comic expression, that his malady had many more symptoms
of fun than suffering about it, called out together--

"Oh, Doctor, by all means, tell us the nature of your late attack--pray
relate it."

"With Mr. Lorrequer's permission I'm your slave, gentlemen," said Fin,
finishing off his glass.

"Oh, as for me," I cried, "Dr. Finucane has my full permission to detail
whatever he