At last we came suddenly on a quagmire, into
which I felt the animal's fore-feet sink with a
drop; terrified, he plunged forward, floundered,
splashing me from head to foot, and, stumbling
against a stone on the other side, down he came
with a heavy, helpless thud, that told only too
well how little chance there was of his making
much more progress that night.

Poor little horse! as, getting on my feet, I tried
to help him to rise, speaking to him caressingly
and patting his neck, he murmured a low whinny,
and answered by making a violent effort to lift
himself—an ineffectual one, so far as its
immediate object was concerned—but successful
in relieving him of all encumbrance, for snap
went the girths, and into the mud rolled the
saddle. With another throe he got on his feet,
shook himself, and stood drooping and
trembling with fear and fatigue, utterly unfit for
another mile of travel.

The only thing to be done was to give up all
thought of proceeding farther, and to try to
find some sort of shelter for the night. I tried
to recal my recollections of the locality, to strive
to remember any house or cottage I had seen in
the neighbourhood; for I had a good idea of
my whereabouts. At last it occurred to me
that, nestling into a sort of nook in the mountain-
side, I had seen a house, situated among what
might, at one time, have been grounds of its
own, though, in proportion as the house had
fallen out of repair, the trees and shrubs, the
rank grass and brambles, had grown into
untrained luxuriance; for the bay here is sheltered,
and the mountains protect the shore, so that the
vegetation, where the soil permits, is richer
than is generally found so close to the sea. I
knew, by certain landmarks, that it must be
some little way further on; so, passing the rein
over my arm, after laying the girthless saddle
upon the little horse's back, I, encouraging
him, with hand and voice, proceeded slowly
to pick my way with extremest difficulty
among the obstacles of the road. At last,
my search was rewarded. Up on the hill-side,
just about where I was pretty sure the house
lay, twinkled a light. Now, the question was
to find the road or pathway that led to it; for
in the darkness it might easily be missed. I
came upon it at last a gateless gap in a low
stone wall and turning up the track, which
was little better, just there, than a water-
course, with a particularly rugged bottom,
over which the poor weary "horse-baste" and
I floundered and struggled at every step, we
slowly neared the beacon, and, after a weary
climb, found ourselves on what had once been
a gravel sweep in front of the house. I was
greeted by the furious barking of a colley-dog
within, which increased in violence as I knocked
vigorously at the door.

The light, which had been up till this in a lower
room, as I could perceive through a hole in
the shutter, was now carried up-stairs, and
after two or three repetitions of my summons,
a window over the door was opened, and the
tremulous voice of an old man demanded my
business. This was soon told, and down he
came, opened the door with trembling hands,
and admitted me into a good-sized hall, but
dark and damp and ruinous.

From the door of the room where I had first
seen the light burning issued an old woman.

"Marget," her husband said, "show the
gintleman in to the fire, shure he's seepin' with
the wet, and I'll take the horse round to the
stable; and put on a dhrop o' wathcr, and
make him a tumbler o' screechin' hot punch
that'll take the cowld out of his bones."

"Thrue for ye; come in, yer honour,"
replied the old woman, dropping a curtsey.
"Och, but it's a crule (cruel) night for a
Christian to be out."

The sight of the fire was sufficient at first to
occupy all my attention, and the old dame
bustled about, setting on a kettle to boil,
taking from the cupboard a bottle of whisky,
brown sugar, and a tumbler, and talking cheerily
the while. By this time her husband had
returned.

"I'll warrant the horse'll be as glad of his
supper and his bed as yer honour; throth an'
he's bate intirely. But what'll we do for
clothes for ye, sur? The sorra a dhry stitch
is on ye. Marget," and he drew the old
woman aside, and whispered to her.

She nodded and disappeared.

"There's a whole wardrobe o' the best o'
clothes up-stairs, yer honour, that belonged to
wan that's dead and gone: maybe ye wouldn't
mind puttin' them on while yer own's dhryin'?"

The proposal was much too good a one to
be rejected, and in a few minutes "Marget"
reappeared with an armful of what, at a glance, I
perceived to be, indeed, "the best o' clothes,"
though of a bygone fashion.

"They're not damp," the old woman said.
"Niver a fortnight passes, niver a week in wet
weather, but I air them. It's thirty-two years
agen Lammas I've had the care o' them, and
damp, nor dust, nor moth, hasn't come near
them. Look here, sur, the finest o' broad-
cloth, lined with silk, an' a velvet collar, an'
iligint pantaloons, an' a satin waistcoat; and
see the silk stockings and the pumps! Ah!
the quality doesn't dhress now as they did
when those was made. But get off your wet
things, and throw them outside the door, and
make yourself comfortable at wanst. Shure
Jimmy'll stay and valet ye, if ye like; many's
the time he acted body-sarvent to the quality."

Declining the offer of Jimmy's services,
however, the good old pair withdrew, and in a brief
space I found myself metamorphosed into a
gentleman of the beginning of the present
century in full dress—tight pantaloons, coat-
collar up to my ears, short waist, full-topped
sleeves, low-quartered dancing-shoes with
flourishing bows; and so ashamed of myself
did I feel, that it was some time before I could
could make up my mind to summon the poor
old people out of the cold.

But I need not have felt uneasy. Genuine
was their admiration of the change in my
appearance.

"Och, but isn't it a pity that ye wouldn't be