“’We feel obliged, sir, but we never take anything but water; moreover, our business now is to relate to you some of the singular adventures of our life, convinced, that in your hand they will be given to the world in three handsome volumes.’

“My curiosity was instantly awakened, and I drew my chair closer to my communicative friends, who, stretching out their legs, prepared to commence their recital.”

“‘Hem!’ cried the right foot, who appeared to be the spokesman, clearing his throat and turning to his companion—­’hem! which of our adventures shall I relate first, brother?’

“‘Why,’ replied the left foot, after a few moments’ reflection, ’I don’t think you can do better than tell our friend the story of Terence Duffy and the heiress.’

“‘Egad! you’re right, brother; that was a droll affair:’  and then, addressing himself to me, he continued, ’You remember your Uncle Terence?  A funny dog he was, and in his young days the very devil for lovemaking and fighting.  Look here,’ said the speaker, pointing to a small circular perforation in his side, which had been neatly patched.  ’This mark, which I shall carry with me to my grave, I received in an affair between your uncle and Captain Donovan of the North Cork Militia.  The captain one day asserted in the public library at Ballybreesthawn, that a certain Miss Biddy O’Brannigan had hair red as a carrot.  This calumny was not long in reaching the ears of your Uncle Terence, who prided himself on being the champion of the sex in general, and of Miss Biddy O’Brannigan in particular.  Accordingly he took the earliest opportunity of demanding from the captain an apology, and a confession that the lady’s locks were a beautiful auburn.  The militia hero, who was too courageous to desert his colours, maintained they were red.  The result was a meeting on the daisies at four o’clock in the morning, when the captain’s ball grazed your uncle’s leg, and in return he received a compliment from Terence, in the hip, that spoiled his dancing for life.

“’I will not insult your penetration by telling you what I perceive you are already aware of, that Terence Duffy was the professed admirer of Miss Biddy.  The affair with Captain Donovan raised him materially in her estimation, and it was whispered that the hand and fortune of the heiress were destined for her successful champion.  There’s an old saying, though, that the best dog don’t always catch the hare, as Terence found to his cost.  He had a rival candidate for the affections of Miss Biddy; but such a rival—­however I will not anticipate.’”

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SONGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL, NO. 3.