ousness of acting-wrong, in
spite of his own resolution, almost drove him mad. Of what occurred
subsequently in the public house, it is not necessary to give any
account, especially as we must follow Art home--simply premising, before
we do so, that the fact of "Art Maguire having broken the pledge," had
been known that very night to almost all Ballykeerin--thanks to the
industry of Toal Finnigan, and his other friends.

His unhappy wife, after their conversation that evening, experienced one
of those strange, unaccountable presentiments or impressions which every
one, more or less, has frequently felt. Until lately, he had not often
gone out at night, because it was not until lately that the clique began
to reassemble in Barney Scaddhan's. 'Tis true the feeling on her part
was involuntary, but on that very account it was the more distressing;
her principal apprehension of danger to him was occasioned by his
intimacy with Toal Finnigan, who, in spite of all her warnings and
admonitions, contrived, by the sweetness of his tongue, to hold his
ground with him, and maintain his good opinion. Indeed, any one who
could flatter, wheedle, and play upon his vanity successfully, was
sure to do this; but nobody could do it with such adroitness as Toal
Finnigan.

It is wonderful how impressions are caught by the young from those who
are older and have more experience than themselves. Little Atty, who had
heard the conversation already detailed, begged his mammy not to send
him to bed that night until his father would come home, especially
as Mat Mulrennan, an in-door apprentice, who had been permitted that
evening to go to see his family, had not returned, and he wished, he
said, to sit up and let him in. The mother was rather satisfied than
otherwise, that the boy should sit up with her, especially as all the
other children and the servants had gone to bed.

"Mammy," said the boy, "isn't it a great comfort for us to be as we are
now, and to know that my father can never get drunk again?"

"It is indeed, Atty;" and yet she said so; with a doubting, if not an
apprehensive heart.

"He'll never beat you more, mammy, now?"

"No, darlin'; nor he never did, barrin' when he didn't know what he was
doin'."

"That is when he was drunk, mammy?"

"Yes, Atty dear."

"Well, isn't it a great thing that he can never get drunk any more,
mammy; and never beat you any more; and isn't it curious too, how he
never bate me?"

"You, darlin