O'HARA. CHAPTER I. What will not woman, when she loves? Rogers. THE wounded man was carried in a senseless state off the field, and as the ball had passed through the body, no hopes were entertained of his surviving. It now became necessary for Henry to retire to Castle Carra, until the fate of his antagonist was known, and a horse having been kept in waiting, he avoided the town of Newbridge, and in company with his fighting friend, rode home by a circuitous road. Major O'Hara was much distressed by this unhappy accident. VOL. II. The unfortunate coinci B dence between himself and his son was singular: both had started into life with human blood upon their hands, and each, through affectionate feelings, had become an homicide. attended the examination of the wound, and the Surgeons at once pronounced it mortal. He Felton's career of life had been too ruffianly for his fate to excite any sympathy from friends or foes, and accordingly the persons who surrounded the litter were more influenced by curiosity than any feeling of regret. "Is there any chance?" said a Sexagenarian, as he put on his spectacles with great deliberation. "Phoo-under the breast, and out near the back bone; I would not give that pinch of snuff for his life," as he coolly applied his fingers to the box. "The very spot where Tom Langley hit Sir Richard Rawdon-I was the poor Baronet's friend-they chose Ballymartin churchyard, and I remember Sir Richard's ball broke the great window. The quarrel originated the evening The Sons of Harmony' fell out, and wracked Ally Mac Allister's taPoor Dick knocked Langley through the clock-case; ah! the world was then worth vern. 6 living in-pleasant, cheerful society; we did not leave as much whole glass in the house as would mend a skylight." "Allow me to nip your dust," lisped a macaroni-looking youngster; "real Lundy, by Jove. Is Felton dished?" "Dead as a herring," said the elder. "Upon my word, Henry O'Hara is a fine, promising youth, and behaved very prettily.” "But Moutray is always lucky," said the youngster; "his friend is sure to nick." Amidst such conversation, the dying man was borne off the field, and the spectators separated, to attend the more important concerns of the election. Hitherto the contest had been close, but as the freeholders were exhausted, the liberals stretched a little a-head, and it now became apparent, that all rested on the decision of one man. Sir Nathan O'Donoughoe, for twenty years of public life, had managed with singular tact to be an eternal dabbler in politics, and yet no person could succeed in attaching him to any creed or party. On this occasion his system of manœuvres was what seamen technically call "backing and filling." He coquetted with both sides, and each supposed they had him by turns. When the Aristocracy imagined that all his scruples were removed, and that on the next day he would bring forward his levies, and sturdily declare for King and Constitution-Heu! mortalium vana spes-at that very instant the Republicans were decorating a chair with green and yellow, in which the Baronet, after exhibiting as the dauntless champion of civil and religious liberty, should be carried in triumph from the hustings. The bodily fatigue endured by Sir Nathan, during the continuance of this protracted flirtation, was prodigious; but, by the blessing of a sturdy constitution, and a competent supply of whiskey, he managed to support the battle. From feverish excitement, or probably want of time, the Baronet's toilet was subject to sad irregularities; and certain garments, generally considered to be indispensible, were not unfrequently forgotten in the hurry of multitudinous interviews with principals and agents. Whether nature or his own ingenuity could |