en and things by broader, wider rules than are the
guides of those who live in more narrow spheres.

It was in discoursing on the political condition of Ireland that they
reached the little village of Cookstown, about a mile from which, on a
slight eminence, a neat cottage was observable, the trim laurel hedge
that separated it from the road being remarkable in a country usually
deficient in such foliage.

"A pretty spot," remarked Layton, carelessly, "and, to all seeming,
untenanted."

"Yes, it seems empty," said the other, in the same easy tone.

"There's never been any one livin' there, Captain, since _that_," said
the coachman, turning round on his seat, and addressing the stranger.

"Since what?" asked Layton, abruptly.

"He is alluding to an old story,--a very old story, now," rejoined the
other. "There were two men--a father and son--named Shehan, taken from
that cottage in the year of Emmet's unhappy rebellion, under a charge of
high treason, and hanged."

"I remember the affair perfectly: Curran defended them. If I remember
aright, too, they were convicted on the evidence of a noted informer."

"The circumstance is painfully impressed on my memory, by the fact that
I have the misfortune to bear the same name; and it is by my rank alone
that I am able to avoid being mistaken for him. My name is Holmes."

"To be sure," cried Layton, "Holmes was the name; Curran rendered it
famous on that day."

The coachman had turned round to listen to this conversation, and at its
conclusion touched his hat to the Captain as if in polite acquiescence.

By the time they had reached Castle Blayney, such had been the Captain's
success in ingratiating himself into Lay-ton's good opinion, that the
doctor had accepted his invitation to dinner.

"We shall not dine with the coach travellers," whispered the stranger,
"but at a small house I 'll show you just close by. I have already
ordered my cutlet there, and there will be enough for us both."

Never was speech less boastful; a most admirable hot dinner was ready
as they entered the little parlor, and such a bottle of port as Layton
fancied he had never tasted the equal. By good luck there was ample time
to enjoy these excellent things, as the mail was obliged to await at
this place for an hour or more the arrival of a cross-post A second and
a third brother of the same racy vintage succeeded; and Layton, warmed
by the generous wine, grew open and confidential, not only