dress of a sailor, so that if apprehended I should pretend to
be an Ostend or Antwerp seaman, washed overboard in a gale at sea.
Fortunately for me I was not called on to perform this part, for as my
nautical experiences were of the very slightest, I should have made a
deplorable attempt at the impersonation. Assuredly the fishermen of the
smack would not have been among the number of the 'imposed upon,' for a
more sea-sick wretch never masqueraded in a blue jacket.

My only clue, when I touched land, was a certain Father Doogan, who
lived at the foot of the Bluerock Mountains, about fifteen miles from
the coast, and to whom I brought a few lines from one of the Irish
officers, a certain Bourke of Ballina. The road led in this direction,
and so little intercourse had the shore folk with the interior, that it
was with difficulty any one could be found to act as a guide thither.
At last an old fellow was discovered, who used to travel these
mountains formerly with smuggled tobacco and tea; and although, from
the discontinuance of the smuggling trade, and increased age, he had for
some years abandoned the line of business, a liberal offer of payment
induced him to accompany me as guide.

It was not without great misgivings that I looked at the very old and
almost decrepit creature who was to be my companion through a solitary
mountain region.

The few stairs he had to mount in the little inn where I put up seemed
a sore trial to his strength and chest; but he assured me that, once out
of the smoke of the town, and with his foot on the 'short grass of the
sheep-patch,' he'd be like a four-year-old; and his neighbour having
corroborated the assertion, I was fain to believe him.

Determined, however, to make his excursion subservient to profit in
his old vocation, he provided himself with some pounds of tobacco and
a little parcel of silk handkerchiefs, to dispose of amongst the
country-people, with which, and a little bag of meal slung at his back,
and a walking-stick in his hand, he presented himself at my door just as
the day was breaking.

'We 'll have a wet day I fear, Jerry,' said I, looking out.

'Not a bit of it,' replied he. 'Tis the spring-tides makes it cloudy
there beyant; but when the sun gets up it will be a fine mornin'; but I
'm thinkin' ye 're strange in them parts'; and this he said with a keen,
sharp glance under his eyes.

'Donegal is new to me, I confess,' said I guardedly.

'Yes, and the rest o