stle, and keep him in wind as he goes along."

"Thank you, Mr. Morrow--and in requital for your kindness, I will
elucidate you such a sample of unadulterated Ciceronian eloquence,
as would not be found originating from every chimney-corner in this
Province, anyhow. I am not bright, however, at oral relation. I have
accordingly composed into narrative the following tale, which is
appellated 'The Battle of the Factions:'--

"My grandfather, Connor O'Callaghan, though a tall, erect man, with
white flowing hair, like snow, that falls profusely about his broad
shoulders, is now in his eighty-third year: an amazing age, considhering
his former habits. His countenance is still marked with honesty and
traces of hard fighting, and his cheeks ruddy and cudgel-worn; his eyes,
though not as black as they often used to be, have lost very little of
that nate fire which characterizes the eyes of the O'Callaghans, and
for which I myself have been--but my modesty won't allow me to allude to
that: let it be sufficient for the present to say that there never was
remembered so handsome a man in his native parish, and that I am as
like him as one Cork-red phatie is to another. Indeed, it has been often
said, that it would be hard to meet an O'Callaghan without a black eye
in his head. He has lost his fore-teeth, however, a point in which,
Unfortunately, I, though his grandson, have strong resemblance to
him. The truth is, they were knocked out of him in rows, before he had
reached his thirty-fifth year--a circumstance which the kind reader
will be pleased to receive in extenuation for the same defect in myself.
That, however, is but a trifle, which never gave either of us much
trouble.

"It pleased Providence to bring us through many hair-breadth escapes,
with our craniums uncracked; and when we considher that he, on taking a
retrogradation of his past life, can indulge in the plasing recollection
of having broken two skulls in his fighting days, and myself one,
without either of us getting a fracture in return, I think we have both
rason to be thankful. He was a powerful _bulliah battha_ * in his day
and never met a man able to fight him, except big Mucldemurray, who
stood before him the greater part of an hour and a half, in the fair of
Knockimdowny, on the day that the first great fight took place--twenty
years afther the hard, frost--between the O'Callaghans and the
O'Hallaghans. The two men fought single hands--for both factions were