“Well, I think I am, sir.”

“You think! why, d—­n it, sir, do you not know whether you are or not?”

“May I ax, sir,” inquired the other in his turn, “if you are a religious character?”

“WHy, what the devil has that to do with the matter in question?” said Woodward, beginning to lose his temper.  “I ask you to direct me to the residence of a certain gentleman, and you ask me whether I am a religious character?  What do you mean by that?”

“Why, sir,” replied the man, “not much, I’m afeard—­only if you had let me speak, which you didn’t, God pardon you, I was going to say, that if you knew the way to heaven as well as I do to Misther Lindsay’s you might call yourself a happy man, and born to luck.”

Woodward looked with something of curiosity at his new companion, and was a good deal struck with his appearance.  His age might be about twenty-eight or from that to thirty; his figure stout and well-made; his features were decidedly Milesian, but then they were Milesian of the best character; his mouth was firm, but his lips full, red, and handsome; his clear, merry eyes would puzzle one to determine whether they were gray or blue, so equally were the two colors blended in them.  After a very brief conversation with him, no one could doubt that humor formed a predominant trait in his disposition.  In fact, the spirit of the forthcoming jest was visible in his countenance before the jest itself came forth; but although his whole features bore a careless and buoyant expression, yet there was no mistaking in them the unquestionable evidences of great shrewdness and good sense.  He also indulged occasionally in an ironical and comic sarcasm, which, however, was never directed against his friends; this he reserved for certain individuals whose character entitled them to it at his hands.  He also drew the long-bow, when he wished, with great skill and effect.  Woodward, after having scrutinized his countenance for some time, was about to make some inquiries, as a stranger, concerning his family and the reputation they bore in the neighborhood, when he found himself, considerably to his surprise, placed in the witness-box for a rather brisk fire of cross-examination.

“You are no stranger in this part of the country, I presume” said he, with a view of bringing him out for his own covert and somewhat ungenerous purposes.

“I am no stranger, sure enough, sir,” replied the other, “so far as a good slice of the counthry side goes; but if I am not you are, sir, or I’m out in it.”

“Yes, I am a stranger here.”

“Never mind, sir, don’t let that disthress you; it’s a good, man’s case, sir.  Did you thravel far, wid submission?  I spake in kindness, sir.”

“Why, yes, a—­a—­pretty good distance; but about Mr. Lindsay and—­”

“Yes, sir; crossed over, sir, I suppose?  I mane from the other side?”

“O! you want to know if I crossed the Channel?”