child, and her venerable relative. Mr. O'Sullivan, looking up, rose to receive her; and the little girl, springing gaily forward, took her hand, saying, "This is my own dear Adele Wildenheim, I told you about, uncle; I love her better than any body in the world; if you will let me live with you, and will keep her too, I shall be so happy!" Whilst Caroline looked inquiringly up in his face to read the success of her proposition; the old man smiled on the lovely girl thus introduced to him, and holding out his hand cordially to her, said, "Your name is well known to me, Miss Wildenheim. Baron Wildenheim was the friend and benefactor of my deceased brother, and his child is truly welcome to my roof." Adelaide's cheek glowed with the most vivid blushes as she felt a tear trickle down; the accents faltered on her lips when she attempted to speak, and a deep sigh burst from Mr. O'Sullivan's breast as he recollected, that the daughter he had lost in the bloom of youth was, in his eyes at least, as lovely as the beautiful girl they now rested on.

At this moment Miss Fitzcarril and Mrs. O'Sullivan entered the room; the latter acting the amicable, aspired to rest her fat hand on the bony arm of the stately Theresa, who, with smiles of unconscious exultation at her own towering height, and with an air of condescension, bent her long neck over her right shoulder, towards her rotund companion, as if the words she addressed to her would not otherwise be within hearing distance. The one stalked forward, sweeping after her a long train of the thickest tabinet; the other (though certainly not a figure for a Zephyr) fluttered in gauze, whose transparent texture a Roman would have compared to "the woven wind," her habiliment being about as long as that of the sapient dame well known in nursery history, after her unfortunate rencontre with the mischievous pedler.

When Mrs. O'Sullivan espied her brother-in-law, she bustled up to him with an appearance of lively pleasure; but an observer, with half the penetration of Adelaide, might have seen a temporary expression of disappointment cloud his features, as from his brother he had never received the slightest hint, that might lead him to form an idea of what she really was, either in manner or appearance; and the beauty of her daughter and elegance of her ward had made him expect to find her far different in both; however, this expression was but transient, and he received her with his usual hospitality, and told her with much warmth and sincerity, how much he admired the charming little Caroline. The Miss Webberlys and their brother made their appearance shortly after Mrs. O'Sullivan's entrance; and the groupe were all assembled round the breakfast-table when Father Dermoody came into the room, whom Miss Fitzcarril and the master of the house rose to receive with the utmost respect, whilst his manner united the humility he felt as a man with the dignity he derived from his sacred office. When he approached them, the motion of his hand, and the raised expression of his countenance, told Adelaide that he passed that silent benediction she had so often witnessed abroad. His benevolent looks seemed to extend it to all, though a slight tinge on his cheek, and a half mournful glance of his eye, betrayed that he felt it would be scorned by some. A reverential bend of Adelaide's graceful figure, and the mild seriousness that chastened her smile of acknowledgement as her eye met his, conveyed to the venerable priest that she at least understood him, and thankfully received his pious aspirations. He looked in vain for the sign, that should have marked their conformity of faith, and sighed deeply, then muttered half under his breath, "In all else how like!"

The English ladies soon found Miss Fitzcarril's gunpowder tea quite too potent for their nerves, and diluted it in a manner that astonished her; for this good lady, in her extensive patronage of vagrants, included smugglers and pedlers, from whom she procured the finest teas and brandies, for to these articles her ideas of parsimony did not extend; and as she kept the latter entirely for her male friends, she thought the former in their utmost strength the peculiar beverage of the fair sex, and now wondered where these ladies could have been brought up, not to understand the merits of gunpowder tea at a guinea a pound!

In the course of the morning Mr. O'Sullivan took his usual promenade in front of his house; and here he appeared in all his glory. In one promiscuous groupe were assembled the heads of the families his tenantry comprised, with every other man, woman, or child, that could leave home to get a peep at the newly-arrived guests, whose appearance at Ballinamoyle had been looked for with more curiosity than pleasure. For Mr. O'Sullivan was universally beloved, and the superstitious ideas of his tenantry made them regard the arrival of his heiress as an omen of his own death; besides they very naturally dreaded this property being given to people unattached to them, and unacquainted with their customs. As the ladies stood at the open windows in front of the house to gaze at the strange assemblage, many were the remarks their appearance called forth. According to custom, every domestic went out in turn to "collogue," as they call it, with their favourite Judy or Barny; and as Caroline stood on the window-seat with Adelaide's protecting arm round her waist, she was repeatedly pointed out to the inquirers. But as the Irish seldom have patience to listen to more than half a sentence, when their minds are intent on any new subject, Caroline's companion was by most of the crowd taken for the object of their search. "She is a beautiful young lady, and looks loving and kind." "She's about the height of poor Miss Rose." "Ochone, she was the darling! Sun or moon will ne'er shine on the likes of her again; and while grass grows and water runs, she'll ne'er be forgot out of Ballinamoyle!" These and many similar expressions proceeded from the lips of the elder part of the assembly, whilst the unconscious object of their remarks entertained herself in viewing the various groupes it consisted of.

Close after Mr. O'Sullivan walked his steward, hat in hand, to receive his orders, or answer his questions respecting the numerous petitioners who from time to time approached him. Whenever he turned towards the crowd, every man's hat was instantaneously taken off in the most respectful manner—every woman's petticoat, however short, touched the ground in her curtsy. Sundry sturdy little urchins were thumped on the back for being rather tardy in paying his honour proper respect; and a sulky reverence brought more than one little girl to the ground, as her mother used no very gentle means to expedite her motions; whilst many a rosy child had its plump cheek or white head stroked for being "mannerly." When Mr. O'Sullivan's levee had lasted as long as he wished, and when he had granted potato ground, and grazing ground, and firing ground, and had remitted fines for trespasses innumerable, his steward gave the usual signal, and the crowd dispersed to idle away the rest of the morning:—an idle evening was a thing of course.

Miss Fitzcarril now proceeded to perform that ceremony always observed in a country house—of showing it, however unworthy it may be of exhibition. This old-fashioned edifice had been built by the present proprietor's grandfather with the materials of an ancient monastery, which had fallen to ruin on its site, which was made choice of for the convenience of communicating by a covered passage with the remaining chapel—a venerable and beautiful structure, that had been preserved in perfect repair. Over the hall door, at the top of the house, appeared the family arms cut in stone, and underneath the name of the builder and the date of the year when it was finished, in order, as Miss Webberly wittily remarked, "to claim the stolen goods by, should any one take it up on their backs and run away with it." The rooms were large and well built, and as uniformly square as a bricklayer's line could make them. The furniture was