Teree—za." "Well, nurse!" "Will you be plased to give me some whisky for Jimmy Maloony—the paltry fellow! he let the dinner fall bringing it up, and the spalpeen has cut his leg very bad; but it was God saved the puddin, Miss!" Adelaide's eyes were attracted towards the speaker, and she saw a fresh coloured old woman, dressed in a rich flowered silk gown, underneath which appeared a pair of coarse shoes and worsted stockings. The gown was open before, and would have trailed on the ground, had it not been turned back and pinned up behind, just to touch the edge of a striped green stuff petticoat, which was surmounted in front with a fine linen apron as white as snow. Her gray hair was rolled back over a cushion, and a mob cap was pinned under her chin, the head piece ornamented with a cherry coloured riband put once round her head, the ends turned back again just to the ears, and a flat bow pinned on in front. It was not surprising that the silk gown, which nurse wore in honour of the strangers' arrival, should be old fashioned in make and texture, as she had received it, according to custom, on the day Mr. O'Sullivan's daughter had cut her first tooth. Miss Fitzcarril, before she complied with the old woman's demands, directed Adelaide how best to proceed from the hall door, to the following effect: "Do you see that walk to the right? well, then you're not to go down that, only just as far as the old oak, and then there is another to the left, mind you don't take that, it leads to the shaking bog, but keep strait forward, and that will bring you round and round to the back of the house." From which it appeared that they were neither to turn to the right nor the left, but to proceed in a strait line, which would conduct them home in a circle from the front to the back of the house!

When the two young ladies set off, Miss Fitzcarril returned to nurse; and while she felt for a key, amongst its numerous fellows at the bottom of a pocket long enough to cover her arm up to the elbow, shaking it two or three times in a manner that showed what metal she carried; the ancient dame said to her, "Our young lady that is to be, is the making of a pretty girl, God bless her! But I'd rather it was her comrade, she has more of the portly air and jaunteel walk of the O'Sullivans than any of them. The others are no great shakes of ladies. But it's none of them all would be a patch upon my sweet Rose if she was alive! Och Rose dear, why did you lave your ould mammy to go wid a foreigner? Wouldn't his honour have given ye gould to eat if ye chose it, and weren't you as merry as a grig the live long day? It's but little you're happier, now you're a blessed angel in Heaven, for you lament ye for your poor father and ould nurse; and you're not a whit beautifuller or better than you were here. Many's the mass we say for your sowl; but ye're fitter to pray for us poor sinful craturs than we for you. Weary on ye, Limerick, that ever ye rose on the face of God's earth, for ye lost me my sweet child." The poor old woman beat her breast as this burst of sorrow escaped her lips, and the tears rolled down the furrows of her aged cheeks in torrents. "Nurse! nurse!" said Theresa, sobbing, "don't take on so; if your master sees or hears you, you'll make him ill again: you know what trouble he was in this morning, and that he wouldn't have the first sight of the little girl before mortal breathing, but sent for her to his own room." "Well, well, I'll soon lay my gray head in under the sod; it isn't fit a poor cratur like me should mislist his honour." When Miss Fitzcarril had composed herself, and dispatched nurse with a "drap of comfort" to the kitchen, she returned to the drawing-room, and then answered the interrogatories her visitors put to her in such a manner, as much to strengthen the favourable impression, which the marshalling of the tenantry had made on their minds in the morning; and, without giving any one direct answer, managed to exalt her own and her cousin's consequence considerably in their estimation.

Theresa, keeping ever in mind the fortune-teller's prediction, which she graciously interpreted in young Webberly's favour, was extremely anxious to ingratiate herself with his mother and sisters, and therefore had by this time almost forgiven the former her proposition of blocking up the windows of the revered apartment, as well as the affronting supposition, that Black Frank appertained to the regular establishment of Ballinamoyle; and the wheedling civility Mrs. O'Sullivan showed her, encouraged her hopes and her efforts; more especially as Jack, in compliance with his parent's wishes, had been particularly attentive to her in the course of the day. Mrs. O'Sullivan had that morning convinced her children it was for their interest, that Caroline should be her uncle's heiress, as she promised in that case not to leave her any of her own riches. She had been induced to hold out this bribe to them, from perceiving the extreme rudeness with which they were inclined to treat all around them, which she feared would disgust their host, whose uniform urbanity was not less conspicuous.

With the Miss Webberlys, interest was scarcely a counterpoise to ill temper, conceit, and ennui; and therefore their deportment varied every half hour, according to the feeling of the moment. But in the composition of their brother, ill nature had not been added to folly and presumption; he was therefore constant in his endeavours to please, in which he was also encouraged by the hopes, that the success of this scheme might "put the old lady in a good humour, and make her come down handsomely when he married Miss Wildenheim, which he would as soon as they returned to England, please the pigs." Of the young lady's being pleased he had little doubt; "her being so confoundedly shy was all a sham."

Whilst Miss Fitzcarril and Mrs. O'Sullivan were playing against each other, in the conversation which took place between them in the drawing-room, Adelaide and Caroline pursued their ramble. At a little distance from the house, one of the most beautiful scenes in nature presented itself to their view.—A lake, of considerable extent, rose from the bosom of rocky hills, whose bold forms were reflected in its pellucid waters. It contained several islands, some with fine trees, some grazed by cattle, and covered with the most brilliant verdure. On the centre island stood the ruins of an old castle half covered with ivy. To the south of the lake was a fine champaign country, and behind the house rose a beautiful hill of great height, covered from the base to the summit with an indigenous wood. To the right a narrow defile opened into a wild and romantic country, showing mountains of the most picturesque forms. The varied lights, which the declining sun threw on this enchanting scene, gave it every beauty of exquisite colouring. "Oh! look there, Adele!" said Caroline, "doesn't the lake and its islands look as if it was let down from Heaven by that beautiful rainbow that touches it at both sides? Oh, how I should like to walk up it!" "And then," thought Adelaide, as she looked at the lovely child, "you might join the company of the sylphs, whilst they 'pleas'd untwist the sevenfold threads of light.'" Just at this moment an odd looking man came close up, and taking off an old regimental cap, said, "I see you're some of the strange quality ladies; you're quite out of the right track,"—(rather surprising after Miss Fitzcarril's explicit directions.) "I'll show ye'z round the place, and take ye'z to the garden, if you're agreeable." "Thank you, my good man, I shall be much obliged to you: pray may I ask your name?"—"They call me Jarge Quin at the big house, Miss, because I was so long at the wars, where I lost my right eye. I'm his honour's gardiner; and a brave kind master he is til me, the Lord love him!" Jarge proceeded to do the honours; and delighted by the questions Adelaide asked, became more than usually loquacious. "Thon mountain that's foreninst ye, Miss, (said he,) is Croagh Patrick; on the top of it is an altar, where many a good Christian