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and, on discovering the extent of my sufferings, betrayed a sympathy I could not have expected from her. This encouraged me so much, that, on the following day, when a grand elevation of the Disciples, en masse, was to take place for the alleged fracture of a sky-light, (which, by-the-by,' was broken by the storm,) and my turn for bestriding the baker's son arrived, I snatched up my hat, and ran for it. This was a crime for which there was no forgiveness; it was totally without the pale of mercy, and with me the Rubicon was passed. On looking behind me, I saw Martin's prime-minister, the young baker, at my heels; the mill, fortunately, was near-I dashed up stairs, and never reckoned myself secure from pursuit' till I had clambered
the roof, and perched myself on the ridge-tiles. I was soon summoned to surrender; the noise brought my mother to the door, who, on seeing my dangerous position, screamed lustily for my
father. In vain were threats and entreaties used; I knew well what I had to expect from Martin, and determined to hold out to the last extremity. Gowdy fortunately at this time happened to be passing; my parents acquainted him with the affair, and my mother enlarged on the striking marks of Peter's discipline which my person incontestibly avouched. A capitulation was proposed by the Divine; I was emancipated from Martin's clutches, the baker's son was dismissed in disgrace, and with a lightened heart I descended briskly from my airy resting-place.
A difficulty now occurred as to whose care I should be committed: Gowdy recommended a neighbouring Minister, and on application being accordingly made, he undertook to prepare me for the Scotch University. He was a man of mild and winning manners, and de
servedly reckoned one of the most accomplished scholars of the day. His circumstances were considered tolerably comfortable; and occupation and society, more than pecuniary emolument, formed his chief inducements for receiving me and another; of that other I shall have occasion to speak much-he was in after life an instance of the mutability of fortune, and the uncertainty of human happiness; in short, my fellow-student under the roof of Doctor Graham, was the once-celebrated Frederic O'Hara.
O'Hara was one year older than I, but the difference between us every way disproportionate. rather small and delicate for my years
he was stout, well made, and well grown-he was devoted to all kinds of field sports, while I was rather inclined to be sedentary and inactive. On the mountains he usually tired two or three sets of dogs, and me most heartily when
I accompanied him (which indeed was seldom); and on our return home, when with difficulty I dragged my wearied legs up the steep ascent which led to the Doctor's door, O'Hara would sit down quietly to dinner in his wet clothes, and after despatching a formidable meal, change his dress, mount his horse, and ride six miles to the monthly assembly, and dance till day-light; while I, tired to death, crawled to my bed with difficulty. His superiority over me in physical strength was but proportionable to his mental pre-eminence. With such dispositions as I have described, a want of application might be expected; he read very little, but he remembered that little ; and the brilliancy of his natural talents amply compensated for a total absence of industry. He was intended for the bar, but his father turned very little of his attention to what should be the future object of his son's pursuits. He was the most indolent and the most hospitable being in the world ; and the only earthly thing he seemed to be interested in, was keeping Castle Carra (the venerable seat of his ancestors) in repair. The house was ever full of company—the consumption of provisions and liquors was enormous, for the kitchen was crammed full of servants, and what the Irish call coucherers (hangers on), and the stables crowded with horses and dogs. The remains of the family estates which had descended to him, and which, with common care, might have become a fine and valuable inheritance for his child, were hourly passing piece-meal into other hands, when, luckily for. iny young companion, an apoplexy removed Anthony O'Hara, but not till he had alienated all the property, except a small portion which was strictly entailed. Early the same year,