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demnation of the community at large. Murder is not described as the 'fashion and the delight' of England. We are not told that the society of the land is diseased,' or that a 'reign of terror' is desolating the country. But for Ireland, and for the far resounding aggressions against the higher ranks that there are sometimes rife, too much odium cannot be poured, and too many anathemas cannot be hurled! Well can one understand the detestation of a country where the lives of the rich are not in safety, and often must we all have felt a sudden glow of anger against the assassin, whose victim fell a sacrifice probably to the offences of a class; but for all this, and for all the brilliant weapons of satire, contempt, and aversion, which in the English press are brought to bear upon these people for all that we are told of the cessation of religious differences, and of the total absence of cause for the outrages which we all must so deeply mourn over, few can deny the fact that for a chronic malady, there must be a long-standing and a deep-laid cause, and that for that chronic malady the great cure consists (to pursue the medical simile) in the relief of irritation."

"He was an ingenious landlord," remarked Gascoigne, with an apparent wish to enliven the subject,

"who informed his tenantry that in the event of his death by violence, every one of them would, by the provisions of his will, be summarily ejected. What care all the fellows must have taken of him! He might have had a body-guard of the 'finest pisantry in the world' for nothing. I should recommend my Lady O'Shaughnessey's relations, if they take up their residence eventually at the old castle, to adopt the same plan. They'll require some sort of protection, I fancy, for I can hardly imagine the little attorney going about with armour under his tightfitting garments. From what I can learn, though, he will be a match for them in cunning, however he may fall short in physical courage."

By the time that Philip had ceased speaking, the Yacht had come to an anchor, and the boat being lowered we were rowed on shore.

The landing was effected at a small pier or jetty, built for the convenience of the fishing-boats, many of which belonged to the inhabitants of the village

-a collection of mud hovels, which had been visible from the sea. It was a wild scene enough, and the signs of human life were few, although along the shore the fires lighted at intervals betrayed the presence of the kelp-burners.

The castle which might one day be Philip's was a

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half-ruined-looking building, standing, as most Irish castles do, close to the cabins of the family serfs. "It is not a particularly cheerful or commodiouslooking residence," remarked Philip, as we passed the gates. "But the income wrung from the poor tenantry is a large one; and before the old man married, and when-when I was engaged to poor Edward's cousin-I used to build many a pleasanter Castle in the air than that one looks on landcastles in which the poor girl took the prominent place and we were to be as happy as wealth and consideration could make us. But everything has changed since those days, and I have learned to value at its just worth the homage and the lip-deep attachment everywhere paid to, and felt for, the owners of rank and riches; and whilst I have seen my fellow-creatures bending lowly before those in power, I have convinced myself, that however apparent was their admiration and devotion, they were in reality anything but friendly to the men by whose position relative to themselves they were kept in an attitude so cramped and unnatural. There are of course moments when the old man (like the oppressive elderly gentleman who clung so closely round Sindbad's neck) is hard enough to put away; and in those moments my appreciation of

the pleasures and advantages which riches can bestow, are great as ever. But in my yearly more frequent lucid intervals—in the many hours when I can enjoy the actual present, with no intrusive longings after the uncertain future-the power is mine to think with actual gratitude of the poverty by which I have been enabled to test the sincerity of some human beings; and I have ceased to long for the wealth which would probably have rendered me distrustful of their truth."

It was in converse such as this that we whiled away the hours; nor did the time seem long (at least to me) that we thus passed together. Gascoigne as I could perceive-was far from being in his usual spirits; but for his comparative depression I could fully account, and as completely sympathise with the regretful feelings he expressed when dwelling on the approaching departure of our mutual friends.

CHAPTER XVI.

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CYRIL VERNON- VENGEANCE IS MINE.'

ON the morrow, the small amount of wind which blew being still unfavourable, we decided on walking along the shore, a distance of some half-a-dozen Irish miles, to a small town, the property of the O'Shaughnesseys, which lies inland a short distance only from the sea. The day was only tolerably fine, for occasionally the fine mountain mist thickened to a brisk rain, and soaked into our garments; still, however, we continued our walk, while Philip was led, by I know not what impulse, to dilate more largely than he had hitherto done, upon the sad events which had occurred at Westfield, and on the gross turpitude of Father O'Donovan's conduct.

The subject was to both of us an engrossing one, and so entirely did it occupy us that we came suddenly, and without having been previously aware of his approach, upon a human figure, walk

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