of the least use in the world," replied Sir Harcourt, scandalized at the pusillanimity of his friend, as he had dubbed himself;" I have always understood these gentlemen were moșt undistinguishing butchers, so that we have only to submit to our fate, and become martyrs in spite of ourselves. For my own part, if it were merely laying down my life I could endure it with fortitude, but there is a still more harrow. ing consideration."

"Gracious goodness! Sir Harcourt, what can be worse than to be thus massacred in cold blood ?"

"The consideration, my dear Sir Ambrose, that they cannot cut one's throat without rumpling one's cravat!"

"Sir Harcourt, Sir Harcourt!" cried the Baronet in a mixed tone of anger and terror, "our sad situation neither affords matter for merriment, nor a proper pretext for pleasantry."

Without noticing this reprimand, Sir Harcourt was addressing himself to the females of the party, endeavouring to allay their appre

hensions, a benevolent office in which he was warmly seconded by Reuben, when the door again opened, and Goldingham re-entered the apartment, the cause of his temporary absence being sufficiently explained by the total change in his appearance. From top to toe he had cased himself in his silken panoply, even his head being covered by a scull-cap, over which he had placed his wig: an old sword hung in a buff baldrie at his side, he had grasped a pistol in each hand, the top of his Protestant flail stuck out from his pocket, and his whole appearance, at once bustling and grotesque, gave him no small resemblance to a hog in armour. Timid as he had been when there was nothing to apprehend, he seemed to have derived courage from desperation now that he considered the danger to be imminent. "Ring the alarm bell, Reuben,” he exclaimed-" collect the servants and tenants-bring the brass cannon from the forts upon the terrace, into the house-see what gunpowder you can collect-barricado the doors, and let every body arm himself as well as he can. We will not be slaughtered like sheep, but sell

our lives dearly, like brave Englishmen a true-blue Protestants-hem!"

His doughty figure, his brandished pisto and his hectoring harangue, increased the agit tion of the female auditors, who were smellit to salts, uttering ejaculations of terror, and få ling back in their chairs, when the door on more opened, and the Squire and Lance Bou derson made their appearance, hauling in prisoner. This was no other than Norry Mo loy, who observing the unusual demonstration upon the coast, and hoping, whatever was it cause, that she might escape in the confusion had bolted from her hiding place just as her present captors were making their way to the Cricketers, and had been seized and brought into the house, in the belief that she could furnish information as to what was passing at Lyme.

Hold her fast! tie her hands behind her! search her for arms and gunpowder !” cried Goldingham; keeping one of his pistols pointed at her head. "She is an Irishwoman, I know

her of old-she is a Papist and one of the plotters."

Reuben was now thrown into considerable alarm, lest he should become implicated with the plotters, by the discovery of the service he had rendered to the prisoner, and as he caught a glance of her eye, he put his finger to his lips to enjoin silence."Whisht! now, be asy," said Norry, with a significant wink; and then turning to the company, who, as she rightly conjectured, knew nothing of her recent offence and arrest, she demanded, with an air of angry innocence, why she had been seized and dragged into the house, merely because they found her walking along the road, as "quite as a lamb.”

“Oh, you cut-throat harridan! Oh, you Popish Jezabel!" cried Goldingham, still keeping his pistol pointed at her head; "tell us

how

many of the wild Irish from Cork have landed at Lyme, and who is concerned in your damhable plot? for we are quite sure that you know all about it."

“Is it me you spake of? Norry Molloy ?

Sorrow a know do I know, your honour, more than any other fool in the world; but that's enough for them that have a thimblefull of brains. Ye're a mighty queer set, ye gentry, and it's the mercy of God that ye haven't to do for yourselves, for the divil a rap would ye arn, nor put a halfporth into your mouths, barrin' the silver spoon that ye're born wid. Ye go to bed and to sleep, and get up to eat and drink, as if it all came as asy and as natural as the light and darkness; and so ye might do, just as well, if ye had an innocent's head upon your shoulders. It's we that have to think and to do for ye."

"Prevaricating devil! what has all this to do with the landing from Cork ?" cried Goldingham, impatiently.

"From Cork!" replied Norry, shrugging her shoulders with a look of contemptuous amaze ment; "I wonder how the world goes on since the gentry have got the management of it. ye know which way is the wind ?"

Do

"No," replied Goldingham, "there's no wea