pany wudn't sarve Ned?-nobody bud Shane Martin, an' Jimmy Tague, an' the other blackguards."

"An' what will ye do wid 'm, Nancy?" "Och! thin, Dick, avourneen, id's myself that's jist tired-thinkin' iv that; at any rate, consumin' to the loose foot he'll get this blessed month to come, Dick, agra!"

"Troth, Nancy," another mischievous monkey would exclaim, "if ye hadn't great patience entirely, ye cudn't put up wid such thratement at all at all."

"Why thin, God knows, id's thrue for ye, Barney. D'ye hear that, graceless'-the very childher makin' a laughin'-stock an' a may-game iv ye?-bud wait till we get undher the roof, any how."

'Ned," a third would say, "isn't id a burnin' shame for ye to brake the poor crathur's heart this a-way? Throth, but ye ought to hould down yer head, sure enough- -a dacent woman! that only for her wudn't have a house over ye, so ye wudn't."

"An' throth an' id's goin', Tim," Nancy would exclaim, "an' whin id goes, let 'im see thin who'll do for 'm: let 'im thry if his blackguards 'ill stan' to 'im, whin he won't have poor foolish Nancy at his back."

During these conversations Ned would walk on between his two guards with a doggedlooking and condemned face, Nancy behind him, with his own cudgel, ready to administer the restorative of an occasional bang whenever he attempted to slacken his pace, or throw over his shoulder a growl of dissent or justification.

On getting near home the neighbours would occasionally pop out their heads, with a smile of good-humoured satire on their faces, which Nancy was very capable of translating.

66

Ay," she would say, "I've caught 'imhere he is to the fore. Indeed ye may well laugh, Katty Rafferty; not a wan iv myself blames ye for id. Ah, ye mane crathur," turning to Ned, "iv ye had the blood iv a hen in ye, ye wudn't have the neighbours brakin' their hearts laughin' at ye in sich a way;an' above all the people in the world, them Rafferty's, that got the decree agin iz at the last sessions, although I offered to pay within fifteen shillins of the differ-the grubs!"

Having seen her hopeful charge safely deposited on the hob, Nancy would throw her cloak into this corner, and her bonnet into that, with the air of a woman absorbed by the consideration of some vexatious trial; she would then sit down, and, lighting her doodeen, exclaim,

"Wurrah, wurrah! id's me that's the heartscalded crathur wid that man's four quarthers! The Lord may help me, an' grant me patience wid him, any way!-to have my little, honest, hard-arned penny spint among a pack o' vagabonds, that dizn't care him an' me war both down the river, so they cud get their bellyful iv dhrink out iv 'im. No matther, agra! things can't long be this a-way;—but what diz Ned care?-give him dhrink an' fightin', an' his blackguards about 'im, an' that's his glory. There now's the lan'lord comin' down upon us for the rint, an' 'cept he takes the cows out iv the byre, or the bed from anundher iz, what in the wide arth is there for 'im?"

The current of this lecture was never interrupted by a single observation from Ned, who usually employed himself in silently playing with "Bunty," a little black cur, without a tail, and a great favourite with Nancy; or, if he noticed anything out of its place in the house, he would arrange it with great apparent care. In the meantime Nancy's wrath generally evaporated with the smoke of the pipea circumstance which Ned well knew ;-for, after she had sucked it until it emitted a shrill-bubbling sound, like that from a reed, her brows, which wore at other times a habitual frown, would gradually relax into a more benevolent expression-the parenthetical curves on each side of her mouth, formed by the irascible pursing of her lips, would become less marked

the dog or cat, or whatever else came in her way, instead of being kicked aside, or pursued in an underfit of digressional peevishness, would be put out of her path with a gentler force-so that it was, in such circumstances, a matter of little difficulty to perceive that conciliation would soon be the order of the day. Ned's conduct on these critical occasions was very prudent and commendable; he still gave Nancy her own way, never "jawed back to her," but took shelter, as it were, under his own patience, until the storm had passed, and the sun of her good humour began to shine again. Nancy herself, now softened by the fumes of her own pigtail, usually made the first overtures to a compromise, but without departing from the practice and principles of higher negotiators always in an indirect manner; as, "Judy, avourneen, maybe that crathur ate nothing to-day; ye had betther, agra, get 'm the could bacon that's in the cubboard, and warm for 'im, upon the greeshaugh, them yallow-legs1 that's in the colindher, though God he knows it's ill my common-bud no 1 A kind of potato.

matther, a hagur, there's enough sed, I'm thinkin'-give 'em to 'im.'

On Ned seating himself to his bacon and potatoes, Nancy would light another pipe, and plant herself on the opposite hob, putting some interrogatory to him, in the way of business always concerning a third person, and still in a tone of dry ironical indifference; as, "Did ye see Jimmy Connolly on yer thravels?" "No."

"Ha ha ha! by my sannies, Nancy, as to market-makin' they may all throw their caps at ye; ye thief o' the world, ye can do them nately."

"Ha ha ha! Stop, Ned, don't dhrink that wather-id's not from the rock well; but I'll jist mix a sup iv this last stuff we got from the mountains till ye taste id: I think id's not worse nor the last-for Hugh Traynor's an ould hand at makin' id."

This was all Ned wanted; his point was

"He did."

"Fifteen ginneys."

"In troth, an' id's more nor a poor body would get; bud, any way, Andy Morrow desarves to get a good price: he's a man that takes care of his own bizness, an' minds nothin' else. I wish that filley of ours was dockt; ye ought to spake to Jim M'Quade about id: id's time to make her up-ye know we'll want to sell her for the rint."

This was an assertion, by the way, which Ned knew to have everything but truth in it.

"Never heed the filley," Ned would reply, "I'll get Charley Lawdher to dock her-bud id's not her I'm thinkin' iv: did ye hear the news about the tobacky?"

"No, but I hope we won't be long so." "Well, any how, we war in look to buy in them three last rowls."

"Eh? in look! death-alive, how, Ned?" "Sure there was three ships iv id lost last week on their way from the kingdom of Swuzzerland, in the Aste Indians, where id grows we can rise id thruppence a-pound

WILLIAM CARLETON.

THE DEAD TRUMPETER.

THE GOLDSMITH OF PADUA.

In the end of the fifteenth century, when the cities of Italy were rendered rich by their trades to the Indies, Padua was one of the most flourishing of its towns, and possessed a body of merchants, and particularly goldsmiths, jewellers, and dealers in silk, with whom Venice itself could scarcely bear a comparison. Amongst these goldsmiths and jewellers there was one more eminent than his brethren. His dwelling was upon the bridge, and Padua was scarcely more universally known in Italy than Jeronimo Vincente was known for one of its citizens. "It never rains but it pours," says a northern proverb; "riches beget riches," says an Italian one. Jeronimo found the truth of both these sayings. He was already rich enough to satisfy a dozen merchants, and to make a score of German princes. Fortune, however, did not yet think that she had done enough for him; every day some traveller was arriving at Padua, in the exchange of whose foreign money for the coin of Padua he obtained some good bargains, and added to his overflowing coffers. Few died without relatives but that he was appointed their executor. Many paid tribute to his wealth and reputation by leaving him their heir. The city of Padua gave him all their public contracts; and he almost sunk under the weight of trusts, offices, &c., not merely offered, but obtruded and imposed on him.

Who could be more happy than Jeronimo Vincente? So he thought himself as he walked on the bridge of Padua one beautiful summer's evening. A coach of one of the nobles passed at the same moment: no one noticed it. On the other hand, every one who passed him saluted him."Such have been the effects of my industry, my dexterity of business, and my assiduous application. Yes, Jeronimo, others have to thank their ancestors; you have to thank only yourself. It is all your own merit."

And with these reflections his stature, as it were, increased some inches higher, and assuming a peculiar port, and a self-satisfied step, he walked in vanity, and almost in defiance of everything and every one to his own house. He fell asleep in the same mood, and dreamed that the ancient fable of Jupiter was repeated in his house, and that the heavens opened, and descended upon him in a shower of ducats and pistoles. In all this soliloquy of Jeronimo, the reader will observe, there was not a word or thought of any one but himself; he did not

attribute his plenty to the blessing of God; he felt no gratitude to him who had showered down upon him his abundance; his mind, his spirit, and his vanity were that of Nebuchadnezzar; and the fate of Nebuchadnezzar was nearer to him than he imagined. It is a part of the wise economy of Providence to vindicate the honour and duty which belong to him; it is a part of his mercy to humble those who in forgetting him are about to lose themselves. He sends them prosperity as a blessing; they abuse it, and convert it to a curse. He recalls the abused gift, and sends them adversity to bring them to their duty. Such was the course of divine government in the early ages of the world, such it is to the present day, and such did Jeronimo find it much sooner than he expected.

On a sudden, without any apparent cause, he saw, to his astonishment, the universal respect to his wealth and reputation on a manifest decrease. Some who had before nearly kissed the ground on his presence, now looked erectly in his face, and kept their straightforward course, without giving him the honourable side of the path; others kept their bonnets as if they were nailed to their heads; two or three recalled their trusts; others happening to call for accounts of such trusts, when he was not at home or busy, spoke in a peremptory tone, dropped hints of the laws of the country, and the duty of guardians. In plain words, he gradually discovered himself to be as much avoided as he had heretofore been sought. No one was punctual in their attendance but those to whom he paid their weekly or monthly pensions. If there could be any doubt that something extraordinary had happened, Jeronimo had at length sufficient proof; for having put himself in nomination for one of the offices of parochial intendant, and of the great church and treasury of Padua, a competitor was preferred, less wealthy than himself by some thousands.

Jeronimo returned home much confounded at this unexpected defeat. In vain he examined himself and his situation for the cause.

"Am I not as rich as ever?" said he. "Have I defrauded any one?-No. Have I suffered any one to demand their payment of me twice?

No. What then can be the cause of all this? This was a question he could not answer, but the fact became daily and hourly so much more evident, that he shortly found himself as much avoided, and apparently condemned in every respectable company, as he had formerly been courted and honoured.

It is time, however, to give the reader some