; and that--that
thick head of yours would flatten a cannon-ball. But what is it?--an
intermarriage between the two P's--Popish and Protestant?"

"My dear," said his wife, "you must be aware that the Popishers have
only got liberty to clatter their beads in public; but not to marry a
Popisher to a Protestanter. This is a glorious opportunity for you to
come home with a feather in your cap, my dear. Has he far to go, Mr.
Strong? because he never goes out after the black game, as you call
them, sir, that I don't feel as if I--but I can't express what I feel at
his dear absence."

Now we have said that Smellpriest was drunk, which, in point of fact,
was true; but not so drunk but that he observed some intelligent glances
pass between his wife and the broad-shouldered curate.

"No, madam, only about two miles. Smellpriest, you know Jack Houlaghan's
stripe?"

"Yes--I know Jack Houlaghan's stripe, in Kilrudden."

"Well, when you g'et to the centre of the stripe, look a little to
your right, and--as the night is light enough--you will see a house--a
cottage rather; to this cottage bring your men, and there you will find
your game. I would not, captain, under other circumstances, advise you
to recruit your spirits with an additional glass or two of liquor; but,
as the night is cold, I really do recommend you to fortify yourself with
a little refreshment."

He was easily induced to do so, and he accordingly took a couple of
glasses of punch, and when about to mount his horse, it was found that
he could not do so without the assistance of his men who were on duty,
in all about six, every one of whom, as well as the captain himself, was
well armed. It is unnecessary to state to the reader that the pursuit
was a vain one. They searched the house to no purpose; neither priest
or friar was there, and he, consequently, had the satisfaction of
performing another wild-goose chase with his usual success, whenever the
Rev. Samson Strong sent him in pursuit. In the meantime the moon went
down, and the night became exceedingly dark; but the captain's spirits
were high and boisterous, so much so that they began to put themselves
forth in song, the song in question being the once celebrated satire
upon James the Second and Tyrconnell, called "Lillibullero," now "The
Protestant Boys." How this song gained so much popularity it is
difficult to guess, for we are bound to say that a more pointless and
stupid production never came from the