A UNIQUE ENCOUNTER.

Waikato Argus, Volume VII, Issue 503, 21 October 1899, Page 1 (Supplement)

A UNIQUE ENCOUNTER.

+. 1 But, Aloysius,' one of us said at length, * did it never happen to yourself to have to fight a du< 1 in those days V Aloysius Cannon was seized with a great fit of laughter that agitated him like a shaking bog. 4 Yes, yes,' he said, as soon as he regained bis self-possession. ' Yes, I did fight a duel in thera days—one.' 4 Let us hear of it, let us hear of it, by all means, Allie 1 ' •Hoar it!' 4 Hear it!' 4 Hear it !' was echoed around the room. •Now, boys, don't gag me, for the Lord's sake ! You have heard before this of my first and last duel.' •Not a word!' • Sorrow takes the whisper!' • Devil a breath !' • That surprises me. Well, lads, charge your glasses, and drink to grand old times.' When we had done this, Allie, unloosing another button in his vest, threw himself back in his chair, the very picture of red-ripe contest, and, his little eye twinkling with a reminiscent light, glanced around the board. •There's half a century gone since that now,' Allie began, • and it seems like last week to me. I was a stripling, then, of nineteen years—and a rollicking devilish on*", fit for all and any mischief. My head was chock-full of fun and tricks, and very little beside; for in them dayß the world, I assure you, boys, gave Allie Cannon very little trouble. Which I suppose, accounts for me now in my gray hairs being the contended old sinner I am. •I had gone down to Donegal on the Ordnance Survey, and at this particular time we were hanging out in the north of the country at Dunfanaghy. A merry place we found it during our stay. The people couldn't be kinder to us, or gayer than what they were. No end of feasting and drinking bouts and revels. Such a time of spreeing and dissipation we hadn't had for a long time ; and we did enjoy it, I tell you. 4 But it was within ten days of our coining that this happened which I tell you the story about. On a Monday night—l remember well it was Monday—we went to our first Dunfanaghy dance. And it was a great event. Pretty girls it plenty —almost to surfeit—and flirting and courting galore.

• There was a French colonel there—a Colonel Ferry. He had been born and brought up in France, but bis father .was a native of northern Donegal, and had gone to France half a century before. Colonel Ferry was a typical specimen, as I conceived it, of the French military dandy. There's little doubt about it, he was a fine figure of a man. His military dress and equipment too, set him off to perfection ; whilst his Frenchy airs and graces likewise helped not a little to impress the impressionable young females of Dunfanaghy. In short, there's no denying that ho eclipsed every one of the rest of us most outrageously—yes, outrageously. 4 But, fortunately for us, Colonel Ferry confined his attentions in a particular manner to one young lady. She was Miss Una MacSweeney, reputed heiress of large house and land property, and I don't know how many thousands of pounds. Independent of the glamour of her dowry, Miss MacSweeney would probably be reckoned fairly pretty, bub with her dowry she was, of course, rated as an exquisitely beautiful girl. The Colonel danced constant atteadance on Miss Mac Sweeney, and Miss Mac Sweeney seemed quite enamoured of the Colonel—as what girl there would not be ? •There wore many of the lads present who considered they bad a better claim upon Una MacSweeney's gracious smiles than the French Colonel, and who were accordingly stirred with green envy ; but none of them cared to cross the Frenchman, for he was a regular fire-eater, and was said to have fought a duel for almost every moon he saw —and, moreover, always managed to come out of thera with honour and success. There was allowed to be no better swordsman in this country, whilst his skill with the pistol was excelled by only few. Little wonder it was, then, that his courting was comparatively pmocth. Within aa many weeks as his coming north he had fought half-a-dozen duels with his usual mi coons, and with tho result that his path in love, as well as in all other lines, was henceforth smooth beyond tho orJmary.

' The first I saw of him was on this night—though it was far from being the Grst I had heard of him, and not the last either. After that dance there was nothing talked of but Colonel Ferry, Colonel Ferry, Colonel Ferry—and Mis Una MacSweeney. To much, to my mind, was spoken of him ; for, so far as 1 saw, though he was a handsome enough man, and probably a brave enough, he was too pompous and supercilious by half, and pub on far too many airs, seeming to look down on tho rest of tho lads as so much dirt.

• I had myself made up to Una Mac Sweeney at the ball, and after some minutes' conversation, solicited the pleasure of the next dance. Miss Mac Sweene y—in a very nice and regretful way, indeed—was sorry to have to refuse me, as she had promised the next to Colonol Ferry. The Colonel, who was right at my elbow, just then advanced and offered his arm to her, at the same time bestowing upon poor mo a look which, he had little doubt, would wither me up into a pith ball. But I was happy to be able to disappoint him ; I had not any intention of being withered up by any man's glance, or ill wish, either. I gave the Colonel as good a look as I got— and, indeed, so far as I could judge, with just about the same effect. But the incident gave mo a supreme contempt for tho Frenchman.

4 When, next day, of the ball were rife, and, aa usual, the Colonel's name was the beginning, the middle, and the end of the conversation, I told the boys of my rencontre with him, and they laughed right heartily, and made out to congratulate me on being alive to tell it. With a great deal of gravity they advised me to be a deal more circumspect for the time to come, and not again to cross the fiery path of the Colonel or I'd get badly singed. 4 1 had been giving the matter some thought myself, for, to tell truth, ray little encounter with tho Colonel made me more than anxious to circumvent him, and to take the triumphant . wag out of his tail. Sayß I to the boys, 4 1 have little mind to concern myself trying to avoid that gentleman, believe me.' 4 Take our advice, then, and do not concern yourself, Allie,' they said, 'in our interests, for we haven't any time to be fooling around funerals just now.' 4 Do you know what it is boys,' I said ; 4 this country, to the best of my belief, is too small for both the Frenchman and me.'

4 The boys laughed again. • You'd better pack up, then,' they said.

1 But does it dawn on ye at all, boys, that it's maybe the Colonel who'll need to pack and go ¥ I said. And this gave the boys regular fits. 4 Boys,' I said, seriously, ' it's my intention to engage the Colonel in a duel.'

• You!' they replied, astounded. 4 You! You to engage Colonel Ferry! And you never fought a duel in your lifo ¥ 4 Yes, me, I said— 4 me to engage Colonel Ferry—even though I never did fight a duel before. It's no 1 , too lat 6 to begin, is it ¥ • 'Well,' they said,' "you'd better get some one to tell you which side of a pistol the shot comes out of, before you take the Colonel on your hands.'

4 As for that,' says I, 4 1 can give a shrewd guess. I intend knocking some of the proud feathers out of the Colonel's plumage.' 4 Are ye jokin' ¥ says they. 'Or are you very mad ¥ 4 That's is to be seen,' says I. •Now, look here, Allie Cannon,' says tho boys, 4 you're young, and only lately from your mother, and we're not going to stand by and let ye bring your death on yourself. 4 Thanky, very much,' says I. •Colonel Ferry,' thoy said, 4 is the best swordsman and the best shot in Ireland.' 4 1 think I've heard that once or twice,' I ssid, a wee bit tartly, for every one had been dingdonging it in my ears from the time I came to those quarters. 4 Ay, but it's so,' they said. 4 And I did't say it wasn't; nor don't mean to say it; nor don't care whether or no.'

•He's pinked fifty men in his time.'

4 4 Then he's pinked plenty, and will pink no more, with God's help.' 4 He's knocked outaeven since he came here alone,' they said. • The less reason, then, he'll have to grumble if he's knocked out himself, says I. • Now, Allie Cannon, says they, 4 tell us solemnly and seriously, do you mean to throw away your young life ?'

' Solemnly and seriously,' says I, back again, • I don't mean at all to throw away my young life. I hope, with God's help, to scratch as grey a poll ns any of you ; but I do mean what I say—-that before I'm many days older I'll be on the sod with the Colonel. Moreover,' said I, 'I mean not only to meet the Colonel, but I mean likewise to chase him—ay, chase him, make him run, and furthermore, to upset his intercourse with Una MacSweeny, and to spoil, once and forever, his chances.'

•The boys, when they hoard that, shook their heads and left me. And I laughod. right hearty to myself, when I was alone. For I had a plan in my noddle—l was always fertile of rascally plans and tricks —a plan in my noddle that was going to astonish them all!

4 Right enough the boys, though thoy protented to think 1 was cracked, concluded in their own minds that it was only joking I was. But I didn't say much. 4 It was the very next week, and on Monday night likewise, that old Cornelius MacSweeny, Una's pater, gave a dance. Myself and the boys were of course all invited—and, it is superfluous to state, all went. The Colonel, as usual, was the

central figure at the dance -if we bar Miss Una. I had come with the positive intention of crossing him and coaxing a challenge out of him, and I was just bursting with the mischief. I was not long awaiting the opportunity. I sue o.;'»l in getting one dance —a p-ilk-i with Miss MacSweeny, and that just at a moment when I s.iw the Colonel striding towards to engage her for it Th«m, as we danced, the Colonsl stood haught'ly by, with a scowl on his f ice. The second or third time that we polkaed in his direction, I, to my great satisfaction, succeeded in dancing on his toe. As soon after the dance as he got the opportunity, the Colonel came up to me. 4 Sir,' he said, blazing with anger, 1 you trod upon my toe.'

4 1 was mopping my brow with my handkerchief when be came up. I paused, respectfully, to hear him, and then 1 went on with the mopping as I said : 4 Oh, no matter. Colonel, no matter, 1 beg you'll not trouble apologizing, for I hardly felt the inconvience at all.'

4 Upon my word he turned as black as thunder as he wheeled and marched off. I just succeeded in bottling iry laughter. But by andby I got the boys in a quiet corner and told thera the joke. Whether to laugh or cry they hardly knew ; but at length they laughed, and that merrily. The Colonel did not enjoy that night any more. What made it worae, one of tho boys lost no time in telling Miss MacSweany the sort of apology I made to the Colonel; and she nearly broke her sides over the joke, and hailing the Colonel, told him, ns best she could for the laughing, what she had heard. This finished him outright, as you may suppose.

• Well and good, I wasn't out of my bed the next morning when there was a knock at ray bedroom door, and Barney the boy, ho came in, telling me that Mr Latimer of Ards was below wanting to see me. •Tell Mr Latimer,' says I, 4 Barney, that I'm not out of my bed yet, but that if he doesn't mind ho might step up and see me as I am.' •Mr Latimer had anted as the Colonel's friend in more than one delicate matter before, and I guessed well what was a bother to him this morning.

4 Good-morning, Mr Latimer,' says I. • How d'ye do f Take a—a—' I was going to say take a chair, but there wasn't such a thing in the room. 4 Takeabed. Mr Latimer,' says I, indicating a spare bed that was in the room.

4 Mr Latimer smiled, and seated himself on the side of the bed. 4 I'm much obliged,' aays he. And says he, 4 1 suppose, Mr Cannon, you know ray business with you this morning ¥ 4 Well, hard feedin' to me if I do, Mr Latimer,' says I. 4 )h,' says he, 4 I'm como from the Colonel. He's naturally upset about that unfortunate mistake of yours last night, and anxious to have it rectified.'

4 Oh, is that it ¥ says I. ' Faith, and to tell you the truth, I'm feelin' upset about it myself. If bis toe is anything the worse,' says I, 4 tell him I said he could call in the dearest doctor in the country side, and I'll pay the damage.' • Latimer, he laughed at th'm, and went on to say it wasn't so much his toe as his moral feelings that was hurt.

• Och, is that all ¥ says I, giving myself a roll in the bed and gathering in the blankets about me. 4 And of course,' says Latimer, he's wanting satisfaction. That's my business here this morning, Mr Cannon; and if you will kindly refer me to a friend who will undertake to manage the matter in your behalf, I'll be obliged.' • Phew !' says I. •Is that the way of it, Mr Latimer?' Surely,' says 1, 4 I'll be more than happy to oblige the Colonel. Mr Latimer, if you give me time to get up and shake myself, and look about me for a friend, I'll get him to call on you as soon after I've secured him as possible.' •The minute Latimer was gone, I was out of bed and had on my clothes, and ordered Barney to send me my breakfast and Tom Murnaghan as fast as the devil would allow him. And in a jiffy I had the breakfast served, and Tom on the heels of it. I managed, between mouthfuls, to convey to Tom how the land lay and asked if he would be my friend ; and Tom swore it would give hira a deal of pleasure to stand by me while I'd be shot. 4 But it isn't going to be pistols, Tom my son,' I said. • What then? Blundorbusseg, you don't say ¥ says he. •Blunderbusses I don't Bay,' says I, bub sword*, Tom,,' says I, 4 you must let me have ray own way in this matter. It's going to be a signal and ignominious defeat for the Colonel' —Tom sneered when he heard this. 4 A signal and ignominious defeat, I say, for the Colonel,' I repeated, quite coolly; • and I must have the battle royal on an original plan of my own.' •And what plan's that?' says Tom.

4 It's this,' says I: ' You must arrange for the duel to be fought with sword?, as I said, and on horseback—'

What?' says Tom, says he. • Whisht!' says I, «till I'm finished. On horseback ; and that it'll take place in a little enclosure

just five minutes' walk out of the town on tne west there, that they call Torlogh's Acre. The spectators may spectate froii the top of the high clay fence that runs round the field; but you sec yourself the necessity there is not to allow any inside tho fcive except ourselves and our seconds. Moreover, the signal for tho first round is to be the last clip of the church clock as it claps out Srfven o'clock the morrow momin'. Is that clear for you Tom Murnaghan ?' says T, and f took a long swig out of a cup of tea, fixing Tom with tho white of my eye at the same time.

4 About as clear as mud,' says Tom, quite sarcastic. 4 ln the name of all common-sense,' says he,' sure you're not serious about all that blatherskitin'?' 4 Ain't I ?' says I. 4 You're a fool,' says he.

•Th inky,' says I ; ' and I suppose I must be so when you say it; for if there's one nun in the north has a good right to pronounce up.m a question of fools, it surley should be you.'4 And a blatherskite,' says Tom. • I bow to you superior knowledge there again,' says I. 1 Allie Cannon,' says he, leanin' forward to me, * do you mean what you say ?' 4 Tom Murnaghan,' says I, 4 1 do mean what I say. Do you take mo to be as great a fool as yourself?' 4 And them's the conditions of the duel ?' 4 Them's the conditions—them and no other-?. If you can't see your way to arrange things in that way, why, Tom, all I can do is to look out for a second who'll fall in with my wishes.' 4 Tom, he got up, and putting his hand in his pockets, began parading up and down the room without saying a word. And I went on finishing my breakfast. 4 Allie Cannon,' says Tom, says he, after he'd done five or six turns, 4 of course I'll stand to your back, no matter how much blamed humbug you introduce into the affair ; only I can't for the life of me see why you'll go making both yourself and me ridiculous. Besides,' says he, Colonel Ferry is certain to refuse to fighb such a duel on such conditions ; while ungenerous people—and there's plenty in Dnnfanaghy as there is elsewhere —'ll be sure to put their own construction on the matter, and say you only wanted the excuse to shirk the fight,' 4 Tora.i says I, 4 I'd be hanged sorry if the Colonel didn't fight—for, as I warned you before, I'm going to chase him and disgrace him—chase him from the the field and from the north of Ireland—hanged sorry I'd be ; but, take my word for it, I've a string to my thumb, and all I've got to do is pull it, and the Colonel daren't refuse to fight if the conditions were ten times as uncommon,'

, What's the string ¥ says Tom. 4 Miss Una Mac Sweeney, says I, 4 with all respect be it said, is the aforementioned string. Una will be rejoiced to know there is going to be a duel about her; she isn't quite up to the niceties of the French duel; and moreover even if she was, she wouldn't stand by and see a good thing spoiled. She'll cut the Colouel's acquaintance, or insist on his fighting. And, take my word for it, if the condition was that we'd have to fight standing on the crown of our heads, with parlour tongs for weapons, the Colonel would give in sooner, than lose Una's good-will.' 4 There's something in that, surely,' says Tom, after a while. • But, all the same,' says he, 4 after studying it, 4 1 can't for the life of me see what you're to gain by imposing the conditions you do.' 4 Tom, my son,' says 1, 4 1 dare say you don't—just yet. But when all's over you'll see what I'll have gained by these conditions; and I venture to prophesy you'll smack me on the back for being a deucedrascally clever fellow,' 4 1 hope so,' says poor Tom— 4 1 hope so. I'm off, then, to see Latimer—aud, my Lord ! but it's me'll have to suffer in the cause of friendship, I wish to goodness, Cannon, we could only swap places.' 4 As Tom Murnaghan had predicted—and as I could just as easily have predicted myself—Mr Latimer let alone the Colonel himself, wasn't for hearing of a duel in the way proposed. 4 lt is outrageous, Mr Murnaghan, Latimer said— 4 outragaous.' 4 And the Colonel he was ready to jump out of his skin when he heard the way the duel was proposed to be. But, as I told Tom, that soon would be rectified , and I was correct. For no sooner did tho business get wind and come to Miss MacSweeny's ears than she was quite enraptured with it. and insisted on the Colonel making Latimer accopt Tom's terms, and go on with the row by hook or by crook. It wasn't a bit of use-for the Colonel to try and make her understand why he shouldn't and couldn't and wouldn't fight on such conditions. Miss MacSweeny would not lend herself to reason ; she protested, and insisted that he should and could and would fight, and threatened to give tho colonel his dismissal if he refused to do that much for hor. So the end of it was that the poor Colonel was bally ragged and coercud. against will

and conscience, into accepting the terms and agreeing to the fight. 4 1 was as glad as a goldfinch when I heard it. I took Tom Murnaghan into my plans instanter and there and then told him in strictest secrecy how I meant to defeat the Colonol—'

4 How, Allie ?' we hastily interrupted. Said Allie : • As I managed to keep my 3ecret then, I guess I'll be able to keep it now. You'll hear it in it 3 proper course.' 4 Well, Tom, he certainly laughed a deal over it when he heard it. But when he was tired laughing at it, he hemmt d and hawed, and shook his head a good deal. 4 Now, for the Lord's sake, Tooj Murnaghan,' says I, will you just do as you're bid, and I'll take the blame —if any blame there is to be.'

• In troth, Allie Cannon,' says he, 4 ye'll only have your share of it. But—in for a penny, in for a pound —aa I've been fool enough to be induced by you to put my finger in the pie at all, I'll go through with the business, and take potluck for how we'll come out of it.'

4 And, to tell the truth, when Tom Murnaghan did commit himself to anything, he wont through with it like a brick. So he now put himself in ray hands and did my bidding, and carried out my orders like a black slave , and before he laid down his weary head to sleep that night he had everything in apple-pie order for me, and had me ready to be shoved into the field.

4 And we were up with the lark next morning—that is, if we hadn't a step or two the fore way of it—and as brisk as a pair of bees, the both of us. As early as we were up—and we had thought ourselves nearly the first—there was a stream of people moving towards the field already. For, to be sure, the day before, the fact that the Colonel had another duel on his hands had run the country like a moor afire, and there wasn't a man or boy able to creep, crawl, or walk, or drag himself on crutches, but was bent on seeing the fun. So, as it drew up to seven o'clock, you may guess for yourself far better than I can tell you the size of the tremendous crowd that lined the ditches round Tarlogh's Arch. They were crushing and crowding and squabbling and fighting, too, for seats on the ditch and room to look on. They were from the farthest ends of the parish, and more than one or two hundred from the next parish to it.' Such a crowd in fact, wasn't seen together in these parts for a long while. Some of them, I was told, had come the night before Jwith their breakfasts tied up in red handkerchiefs in their hands. They got the choice seats, and in the morning, before the play commenced, they sat there as content as the flowers o' May, munching their meat out of their fists, and waiting with patience and cheerfulness for the fools that were to provide the fun. • I packed Tom off to the field before me. And he met Latimer there, and talked things over with him and made the final arrangements. At ten minutes to seven, the Colonel, he arrived on a steed every bit aa fiery and as haughty as himself—and that's saying a deal. Miss Mac Sweeney and the flower of the Dunfanaghy young ladies arrived, and were accomodated with good and prominent seats. The Colonel, he went prancing round the field and up and down the field, looking very high and mighty enentirely, and casting an odd scornful glance at the open-mouthed crowd. Now and then he pranced up to Miss Mac Sweeney or some other of the young ladies, and passed a witty word or compliment with them, and then off sidling and prancing again —a mighty sight to see, all gave in.

4 There was a deal of pity expressed for rue, I was told, everywhere round the field ; it was taken for granted that the Colonel would make niince-meatj of roe, and that the wind of his sword would be enough for me. And when it crept up to seven o'clock, and still no sign of me putting in an appearance, the whisper began to go round that, after all, I had rued and run away ; and some of the boys that had come far and fasting cursed me on the empty stomach (which, they say, is about the nio3t vicious curse could be given a man) for depriving them of their morning diversion—-it being the general opinion that I should have cheerfully consented to get butchered to make a Dunfanaghy holiday. 4 But I did not intend depriving the poor fellows of their little innocent bit of fun—and I didn't. When the church clock chapped out the first stroke of seven I hadn't pub in an appearance, and I believe there was a deal of grumbling begun ; and as tho clock went on chapping, and still no sign of nif, the grumbling grew louder ; and the Colonel, he shook his head at Miss Mac Sweeney, and smiled knowingly as much as to say, ' Fin not one bit surprised.' • But, lo and behold you I the instant the hammer of the clock was coming down on the seventh and la?t clap, into the field, by the way of a narrow hidden lane, and with a jingle and a jangle and a chatter and a clang, enough to make the dead shoulder their tombstones and rise up, myself canters, mounted upon Shan the Hawker's old mare

Jinny, that was a walking picture of old age and misery, and Jinny, moreover, all hung and strung round with the most tremendous collection of old tins, tin porringers, and tin cans that were never yet seen outside a tinker's shop; and at every step Jinny gave, you would take your oath, if you heard the clang and clatter, that it \v\is ten tinkers' 3hops rolling in the Bay of Biscay.

' Tho field was dazed for one minute, and then the next minute thoy let such a roar of laug'itor out of them as might have been heard on Tury Island, ten miles off. I myself looked a<? grave as a clergyman at the burial service ; and without losing any tinv>, I clapped the spurs into Jinny and headed her for whore the Colonel was seated upon his horse, both of them looking transfixed. And Jinny had such a peculiar gait of going —first tossiiig up'

her head and the front part of her body ond then her tail and the hinder half—that the tins jingled aud jangled ten times louder, and the people roared and roared ten times louder than before. Aud ere I'd got within decent distance of the Colonel his steed began to fidget and shy, and at length took her head with her and turned tail across the field. I gave chase after my own fashion, but couldn't catch up, for the Colonel's mare went dashing and prancing and bolting like a mad thing over the field, and would have gone into a rabbit-hole, if she could only have got one convenient, to escape the tinker's shop that was coming thundering behind her. The Colonel was pulling and tugging at his mare for all he was worth, and cursing like a good one—cursing the mare, cursing me, and cursing the crowd that yelled with tho madness of the laughter, I still kept the countenance of a barrister, and pursued him with all the noise of a foundry from one quarter of the field to another, waving my sword over my head, and yelling on him to stand his ground and fight me like a man. The Colonel would have given half he worth to be able to get at me and massacre me then and there ; but though he pulled and tugged and walloped his mare to make her answer the rein, and frothed and fumed till he was black in the face, the mare would no more face me than a rabbit would face a battery of cannon. 1 Ho-ho-ho !' ye coward, ye !' says I, shaking my sword at him, and pretending to be thirsting for his blood, and I clapped the spurs into Jinny and gave him another chase. 4 Ho-ho-ho ! you dirty coward ! And this is the sort of courage you show, is it, when you meet your match ? Will you not stand till I get even one polthogue of my sword at ye ? I'll carve ye as neatly as that ye'll nearly feel proud of being the corpse that comes under my hand !'

4 But the next dash I made at him, his mare shook herself free of the last wee bit of control he had over her, and made a clean burst for the gap and the lane I had come in at; and out with him at a bound and me out after, as close on their heels as ever I could come, clanging and jangling, waving my sword and roaring to him louder than ever; and the crowd, losing the last control of thenttelves too, went into such fits with the pure dint of laughing that several fainted, and had to be catried off the field.

• The Colonel's mare, getting rid of the field and having a straight course before her, went off across the country like a puff of wind, carrying the poor heart-broken Colonel without bis hat, and his hair streaming behind him, till they soon disappeared from sight altogether. ' That I was what they called ' the h«ro of the hour, there is little need to say. Jinny was caught and let in triumph through Dunfanaghy and I carried on the shoulders of the crowd. The poor Colonel, he never pulled rein that morning till he stopped on the Diamond of Derry. And to Dunfanaghg he never came back, He paid his landlady by the mail-carrier, and had his traps and fittings sent to him, and he decamped, none in Dunfanaghy knew where, for he did not as much as send a scrap of a letter even to Una Mac Sweene y—but it's likely he went to France with small delay • And, to tell the truth, Una did not seem to show any sign of breaking her heart after him, barriug it would be with the laughing—fits of which sh« took every time she thought of the Colonel and the duel. For myself, I was at once established as a personae grata with her ; and if I'd only the sense to mind my p's and q's, and to know what was good for me, I might now be a nice respectable old retired shopkeeper, telling the story to my little Dunfanaghy children, instead of the old bachelor fogy I am, telling my tale here for the amusement of the gang of reprobates around me—

4 Pass thaF bottle, McAuulty, confound you ?'