o the pleasantest smell in the world at the present
time; and there's a pair of big, black, thievish look in' ould Ravens,
sittin' for the last two or three days upon the black beech, as if they
had a suspicion of something. Tom Corbet and I have fired above a dozen
shots at them, and blazes to the feather we can take out o' them. So
far from that, they sit there laughin' at us. Be me sowl, it's truth,
gentlemen."

"Begone, sirra," said Val, "how dare you use such language as this to
your master; Leave the room."

Lanty rubbed his hair with his middle finger and went reluctantly out.

"Ah," said Deaker, "I'm glad to see you bore, Dick Bredin--and you
Jack--stay here till I'm in the dirt, and you'll find I have not
forgotten either of you.--As for the Vulture there, he is very well able
to take care of himself--he is--oh, a d----d rogue!"

Deaker's face, was such a one as, perhaps, was never witnessed on a
similar occasion, if there ever were a similar occasion. It presented
the cadaverous aspect of the grave, lit up into the repulsive and
unnatural animation that resulted from intoxication, and the feeble
expiring leer of a worse passion. There was a dead but turbid glare in
his eye; half of ice, and half of fire, as it were, which when taken in
connection with his past life, was perfectly dreadful and appalling. If
it was not the ruling passion strong in death, it was the ruling passion
struggling for a divided empire with that political Protestantism which
regulated his life, but failed to control his morals.

"Here," said he, "mix me some brandy and water, or--stop, ring the bell,
Dick Bredin."

Bredin rang the bell accordingly, and in a minute or so Lanty came in.

"Here, you imp, do your duty."

"Haven't you enough, sir? more, I think, will do you harm."

"Go to h--l, you young imp of perdition, do your duty, I say."

Lanty here mixed him some brandy and water, and then held it to his
lips.

"Here," said he, "here is the Glorious, Pious, and Immortal Memory! hip,
(hiccup) oh--ay--hip, hip, hurrah! Now, Lanty, you clip, that's one part
of my duty done."

"It is, sir," replied Lanty; "you always did your duty, Square."

"Ay, but there's more to come--lay me back now, Lanty; lay me back till
I whistle the Boyne Water."

Lanty accordingly laid him back a little, and he immediately commenced
an attempt to whistle that celebrated air by way of consolation on his
death-bed.

"He's not always settled, ge