the ground. O daughter of Babylon, wasted
with misery, yea, happy shall he be who rewardeth
thee, as thou hast served us!"

There was a burst of smothered sobs
from the same corner, and the master's eye
flashed with a strange fire as he again darted
a glance towards the offender. The lady looked,
equally surprised, in the same direction; then
turned a meaning look on her husband—a
warm flush was succeeded by a paleness in
her countenance, and she cast down her eyes.
The children wondered, but were still. Once
more the father's sonorous voice continued—
"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive
us our trespasses as we forgive them
that trespass against us." Again the stifled
sound was repeated. The brow of the master
darkened again—the mother looked agitated;
the children's wonder increased; the master
closed the book, and the servants, with a constrained
silence, retired from the room.

"What can be the matter with old Dennis?"
exclaimed the lady, the moment that
the door had closed on the household.—" O!
what is amiss with poor old Dennis! " exclaimed
the children.

"Some stupid folly or other," said the
father, morosely. " Come! away to bed,
children. You can learn Dennis's troubles
another time." The children would have lingered,
but again the words, " Away with
you! " in a tone which never needed repetition,
were decisive: they kissed their parents
and withdrew. In a few seconds the father
rang the bell. " Send Dennis Croggan
here."

The old man appeared. He was a little
thin man, of not less than seventy years of
age, with white hair and a dark spare countenance.
He was one of those many nondescript
servants in a large Irish house, whose
duties are curiously miscellaneous. He had,
however, shown sufficient zeal and fidelity
through a long life, to secure a warm nook
in the servants' hall for the remainder of his
days.

Dennis entered with an humble and timid
air, as conscious that he had deeply offended;
and had to dread, at least, a severe rebuke.
He bowed profoundly to both the master and
mistress.

"What is the meaning of your interruptions
during the prayers, Dennis? " demanded
the master, abruptly. "Has anything happened
to you?"

"No, Sir."

"Anything amiss in your son's family?"

"No, your honour."

The interrogator paused; a storm of passion
Beemed slowly gathering within him. Presently
he asked, in a loud tone, " What does
this mean? Was there no place to vent your
nonsense in, but in this room, and at prayers?"

Dennis was silent. He cast an imploring
look at the master, then at the mistress.

"What is the matter, good Dennis?"
asked the lady, in a kind tone. " Compose
yourself, and tell us. Something strange must
have happened to you."

Dennis trembled violently; but he advanced
a couple of paces, seized the back of a chair
as to support him, and, after a vain gasp or
two, declared, as intelligibly as fear would
permit, that the prayer had overcome him.

"Nonsense, man! " exclaimed the master,
with fury in the same face, which was so
lately beaming with joy on the children.
"Nonsense! Speak out without more ado, or
you shall rue it."

Dennis looked to the mistress as if he would
have implored her intercession; but as she
gave no sign of it, he was compelled to speak;
but in a brogue that would have been unintelligible
to English ears. We therefore
translate it:—

"I could not help thinking of the poor
people at Rathbeg, when the soldiers and
police cried, ' Down with them! down with
them, even to the ground! ' and then the
poor bit cabins came down all in fire and
smoke, amid the howls and cries of the poor
creatures. Oh! it was a fearful sight, your
honour—it was, indeed—to see the poor women
hugging their babies, and the houses where
they were born burning in the wind. It
was dreadful to see the old bedridden man
lie on the wet ground amongst the few bits
of furniture, and groan to his gracious God
above. Oh, your honour! you never saw
such a sight, or—you—sure a—it would never
have been done!"

Dennis seemed to let the last words out, as
if they were jerked from him by a sudden
shock.

The master, whose face had changed during
this speech to a livid hue of passion, his eyes
blazing with rage, was in the act of rushing
on old Dennis, when he was held back by his
wife, who exclaimed—" Oswald! be calm;
let us hear what Dennis has to say. Go on,
Dennis—go on!"

The master stood still, breathing hard to
overcome his rage. Old Dennis, as if seeing
only his own thoughts, went on—" O, bless
your honour! if you had seen that poor
frantic woman when the back of the cabin fell,
and buried her infant, where she thought she
had laid safe for a moment, while she flew to
part her husband and a soldier, who had struck
the other children with the flat of his sword,
and bade them to troop off! Oh, your honour,
but it was a killing sight! It was that came
over me in the prayer, and I feared that we
might be praying perdition on us all, when
we prayed about our trespasses. If the poor
creatures of Rathbeg should meet us. your
honour, at Heaven's gate (I was thinking)
and say—' These are the heathens that would
not let us have a poor hearthstone in poor
ould Ireland.' And that was all, your honour,
that made me misbehave so; I was just thinking
of that, and I could not help it."

"Begone! you old fool!" exclaimed the
master; and Dennis disappeared, with a bow,