“What do you think of Miss Cavanagh?” asked Hycy, with more of interest than he had probably ever felt in her before.

“What do I think?” said the other, looking at him with a good deal of surprise.  “What can I think?  What could any man, that has either taste or common-sense think?  Faith, Hycy, to be plain with you, I think her one of the finest girls, if not the very finest, I ever saw.  Heavens! what would not that girl be if she had received the advantages of a polished and comprehensive education?”

“She is very much of a lady as it is,” added Hycy, “and has great natural dignity and unstudied grace, although I must say that she has left me under no reason to feel any particular obligations to her.”

“And yet there is a delicate and graceful purity in the beauty of little Dora, which is quite captivating,” observed Clinton.

“Very well,” replied the other, “I make jou a present of the two fair rustics; give me the interesting Maria.  Ah, Harry, see what education and manner do.  Maria is a delightful girl.”

“She is an amiable and a good girl,” said her brother; “but, in point of personal attractions, quite inferior to either of the two we have been speaking of.”

“Finigan,” said Hycy—­“I beg your pardon, O’Finigan—­the great O’Finigan, Philomath—­are you a good judge of beauty?”

“Why, then, Mr. Hycy,” replied the pedagogue, “I think, above all subjects, that a thorough understanding of that same comes most natural to an Irishman.  It is a pleasant topic to discuss at all times.”

“Much pleasanter than marriage, I think,” said Clinton, smiling.

“Ah, Mr. Clinton,” replied the other, with a shrug, “de mortuis nil nisi bonum; but as touching beauty, in what sense do you ask my opinion?”

“Whether now, for instance, would your learned taste prefer Miss Cavanagh or Miss Dora M’Mahon? and give your reasons.”

“Taste, Mr. Hycy, is never, or at least seldom, guided by reason; the question, however, is a fair one.”

“One at least on a fair subject,” observed Clinton.

“Very well said, Mr. Clinton,” replied the schoolmaster, with a grin—­“there goes wit for us, no less—­and originality besides.  See what it is to have a great janius!—­ha! ha! ha!”

“Well, Mr. O’Finigan,” pursued Hycy, “but about the ladies?  You have not given us your opinion.”

“Why, then, they are both highly gifted wid beauty, and strongly calculated to excite the amorous sentiments of refined and elevated affection.”

“Well done, Mr. Plantation,” said Hycy; “you are improving—­proceed.”

“Miss Cavanagh, then,” continued Finigan, “I’d say was a goddess, and Miss M’Mahon her attendant nymph.”

“Good again, O’Finigan,” said Clinton; “you are evidently at home in the mythology.”

“Among the goddesses, at any rate,” replied the master, with another grin.

“Provided there is no matrimony in the question,” said Clinton.