(a mendicant), sometimes a fool--a
rare character, you know, in this world--and sometimes a tiddler, for I
play a little."

"And which character did you prefer among them all?" asked Reilly, with
a smile which he could not repress.

"Oh, in troth, you needn't ask that, Mr. R.--hem--you needn't ask that.
The first morning I took to the fiddle I was about to give myself up to
government at once. As for my part, I'd be ashamed to tell you how sent
those that were unlucky enough to ear my music scampering across the
country."

"And, pray, how long is that since?"

"Why, something better than three weeks, the Lord pity me!"

"And what description of dress did you wear on that occasion?" asked
Reilly.

"Dress-why, then, an old yellow caubeen, a blue frieze coat,
and--movrone, oh! a striped breeches. And the worst of it was, that big
Paddy Mullin, from Mullaghmore, having met me in old Darby Doyle's, poor
man, where I went to take a little refreshment, ordered in something to
eat, and began to make me play for him. There was a Protestant in the
house, too, so that I couldn't tell him who I was, and I accordingly
began, and soon cleared the house of them. God bless you, sir, you could
little dream of all I went through. I was one day set in the house I was
concealed in, in the town of Ballyrogan, and only for the town fool, Art
M'Kenna, I suppose I'd have swung before this."

"How was that?" asked Reilly.

"Why, sir, one day I got the hard word that they would be into the house
where I was in a few minutes. To escape them in my own dress I knew was
impossible; and what was to be done? The poor fool, who was as true as
steel, came to my relief. 'Here,' said he, 'exchange wid me. I'll put on
your black clothes, and you'll put on my red ones'--he was dressed like
an old soldier--'then I'll take to my scrapers, an' while they are in
pursuit of me you can escape to some friend's house, where you may get
another dress. 'God knows,' said he, with a grin on him I didn't like,
'it's a poor exchange on my part. You can play the fool, and cock your
cap, without any one to ask you for authority,' says he, 'and if I only
marry a wrong couple I may be hanged. Go off now.' Well, sir, out I
walked, dressed in a red coat, military hat, white knee-breeches, and
black leggings. As I was going out I met the soldiers. 'Is the priest
inside, Art?' they asked. I pointed in a wrong direction. 'Up by
Kilclay?' I nodded. They first searched th