cShane?"

"Ah, bother! but she was a knowing one--a widow on a first floor,
good-looking, buxom, a fine armful, and about thirty--met her at a
party--pointed out to me as without encumbrance, and well off--made up
to her, escorted her home--begged permission to call, was graciously
received--talked of her departed husband, thought me like him--
everything so comfortable--plenty of plate--good furniture--followed her
up--received notes by a little boy in sky-blue and silver sugar-loaf
buttons--sent me all her messages--one day in the week to her banker's
to cash a check. Would you believe the cunning of the creature? She
used to draw out 25 pounds every week, sending me for the money, and, as
I found out afterwards, paid it in again in fifties every fortnight, and
she only had 50 pounds in all. Wasn't I regularly humbugged? Made
proposals--was accepted--all settled, and left off talking about her
departed. One day, and only two days before the wedding, found the
street-door open, and heard a noise between her and her landlady of the
top of the stairs, so I waited at the bottom. The landlady was
insisting upon her rent, and having all her plate back again--my
charming widow entreating for a little delay, as she was to be married--
landlady came downstairs, red as a turkey-cock, so I very politely
begged her to walk into the parlour, and I put a few questions, when I
discovered that my intended was a widow with a pension of 80 pounds
a-year, and had six children, sent out of the way until she could find
another protector, which I resolved, at all events, should not be Major
McShane; so I walked out of the door, and have never seen her since."

"By the head of Saint Patrick, but that was an escape!"

"Yes, indeed, the she-devil with six children, and 80 pounds a year;
it's a wicked world this, O'Donahue. Well, I kept clear of such cunning
articles, and only looked after youth and innocence in the city. At
last I discovered the only daughter of a German sugar-baker in the
Minories, a young thing about seventeen, but very little for her age.
She went to a dancing-school, and I contrived, by bribing the maid, to
carry on the affair most successfully, and she agreed to run away with
me: everything was ready, the postchaise was at the corner of the
street, she came with her bundle in her hand. I thrust it into the
chaise, and was just tossing her in after it, when she cried out that
she had forgotten something, and mu