“Vengeance wiped his eyes—­’Rouse yourself, Mick,’ said he, ’rouse yourself.’

“‘Who is that sitting along with you on the stool?’ said Mick.

“‘No one,’ replied his neighbor; ’but what’s the matter with you, Mick?—­your face is changed.’

“Mick, however, made no reply; but after a few slight struggles, in which he attempted to call upon his mother’s name, he breathed his last.  When Vengeance saw that he was dead—­looked upon the cold, miserable hut in which this grateful and affectionate young man was stretched—­and then reflected on the important service he had just rendered he could not suppress his tears.

“After sending down some of the females to assist his poor mother in laying him out, Vengeance went among his friends and acquaintances, informing them of the intelligence he had received, without mentioning the source from which he had it.  After dusk that evening, they all flocked, as privately as possible, to his house, to the number of thirty or forty, well provided with arms and ammunition.  Some of them stationed themselves in the out-houses, some behind the garden edge, and others in the dwelling-house.”

When my brother had got thus far in his narrative, a tap came to the parlor-door, and immediately a stout-looking man, having the appearance of a laborer, entered the room.  “Well, Lachlin,” said my brother, “what’s the matter?”

“Why, sir,” said Lachlin, scratching his head, “I had a bit of a favor to ax, if it would be plaisin’ to you to grant it to me.”

“What is that,” said my brother.  “Do you know, sir,” said he, “I haven’t been at a wake—­let us see—­this two or three years, anyhow; and, if you’d have no objection, why, I’d slip up awhile to Denis Kelly’s; he’s a distant relation of my own, sir; and blood’s thicker than wather you know.”

“I’m just glad you came in, Lachlin,” said my brother, “I didn’t think of you; take a chair here, and never heed the wake to-night, but sit down and tell us about the attack on Vesey Vengeance, long ago.  I’ll get you a tumbler of punch; and, instead of going to the wake to night, I will allow you to go to the funeral to-morrow.”

“Ah, sir,” said Lachlin, “you know whenever the punch is consarned, I’m aisily persuaded; but not making little of your tumbler, sir,” said the shrewd fellow, “I would get two or three of them if I went to the wake.”

“Well, sit down,” said my brother, handing him one, “and we won’t permit you to get thirsty while you’re talking, at all events.”

“In troth, you haven’t your heart in the likes of it,” said Lachlin.

“Gintlemen, your healths—­your health, sir, and we’re happy to see you wanst more.  Why, thin, I remember you, sir, when you were a gorsoon, passing to school wid your satchel on your back; but, I’ll be bound you’re by no means as soople now as you were thin.  Why, sir,” turning to my brother “he could fly or kick football with the rabbits.—­Well, this is raal stuff!”