Lieutenant Smyth had entered the army only a few months, when his regiment was suddenly ordered to march from very pleasant quarters in Devonshire to the north-west of Ireland.  The change at any time would have been unpleasant, but the service they were entering upon was particularly irksome and jarring to the feelings.  Grumbling, in a military man, is, however, downright folly, and they soon made themselves tolerably at home in their new quarters.  It is needless to dwell upon the disturbed and distracted state of the country, or on the military movements of the time.  After the regiment had been quartered at the town of ——­ for some months, Smyth obtained a week’s leave of absence from the commanding officer, having received a pressing invitation to visit a gentleman’s family, to whom he had letters of introduction, and who resided more than twenty miles from ——.  This town bordered on a very wild, hilly moorland track of country, then, and perhaps now, the refuge of numerous bands of smugglers, and then also a hiding-place for a number of unfortunate people with arms in their hands.  The road—­if such it could be called—­to his friend’s house ran principally along the borders of this territory, though it sometimes diverged into it for several miles.  However, matters had been tolerably quiet in the immediate district about ——­ for some time, and he resolved to go, especially as there was capital sporting at L——.  It is unimportant to enter into a narration of all his sporting feats—­how many birds he bagged, or how many salmon he caught, or ought to have caught, had it not been for some “untoward” occurrence, specifying the exact weight of the missing fish to an ounce—­as fishermen generally do.  On the fourth afternoon after his arrival, a letter was put into his hands, (just as the cloth was drawn, and the party were going to discuss the superlative merits of some genuine poteen,) which the servant said had been brought by a man, who waited in the hall.  It was from Colonel ——­, and briefly stated that peremptory orders had just been received from head-quarters, that all officers absent on leave should instantly return to duty.  This was a disagreeable piece of intelligence, particularly at that hour, but necessitas non habet legem, as Dr. Birch used to tell our hero at school—­the orders were imperative.  Long and loud were the laments and remonstrances of the party, we are assured.  After ordering Dart to be saddled, the Lieutenant stepped into the hall to have a moment’s survey of the bearer of the letter, who the Colonel informed him in a postscript was a man well acquainted with the country, and would safely guide him back to ——.  He found a tall, lumbering sort of fellow, one of the “finest pisantry in the world,” whose appearance was not much in his favour.  He started on seeing Smyth, who fancied that he discovered something deeper in the glance of his eye than his bogtrotting bearing first betokened.  But it was only transitory;