to wash it."

The Doctor did not wait for the conclusion of this reply, but hastening
from the room, passed down the few stairs that led towards the old
court-yard, followed by Sir Archy and Kerry, the one, eager to witness
the termination of the scene--the other, muttering in a very different
spirit--"Oh, but it's now we'll have the divil to pay!"

As soon as Roach arrived at the court-yard, he turned his eyes on every
side, to seek his conveyance; but although there were old harrows,
broken ploughs, and disabled wheel-barrows in numbers, nothing was
there, that bore any resemblance to what he sought.

"Where is it?" said he, turning to Kerry, with a look of exasperation
that defied all attempt to assuage by mere "blarney"--"where is it?"

[Illustration: 151]

"Here it is, then," said O'Leary, with the tone of one, whose courage
was nerved by utter despair, while at the same time, he drew forth two
wheels and an axle, the sole surviving members of the late vehicle, As
he displayed the wreck before them, the ludicrous--always too strong for
an Irish peasant, no matter how much it may be associated with his own
personal danger--overcame his more discreet instincts, and he broke
forth into a broad grin, while he cried--"'There's the inside of her,
now!' as Darby Gossoon said, when he tuk his watch in pieces, 'and
begorra, we'll see how she's made, any way!'"

This true history must not recount the expressions in which Roach
permitted himself to indulge; it is enough to say, that his passion took
the most violent form of invective, against the house, the glen, the
family, and their retainers, to an extreme generation, while he stamped
and gesticulated like one insane.

"Ye'll hae sma' space for yer luggage in you," said M'Nab, with one of
his driest laughs, while he turned back and re-entered the house.

"Where's my pony?--where's my pony?" shouted out the Doctor, determined
to face all his calamities at once.

"Oh, faix, he's nothing the worse," said Kerry, as he unlocked the door
of the stable, and pointed with all the pride of veracity to a beast in
the stall before them. "There, he is, jumping like a kid, out of his
skin wid' fun this morning."

Now, although the first part of Kerry's simile was assuredly incorrect,
as no kid, of which we have any record, ever bore the least resemblance
to the animal in question, as to the fact of being "out of his skin"
there could not be a second opinion, the beast being