hen the old rector was to meet his
parishioners no more, and the parish was vacant, I do not hear that
honest Dan succeeded to it. Indeed I'm afraid that it needs sometimes a
spice of the devil, or at least of the world, to get on in the Church.
But Lord Dunoran took him with him on the embassage to Lisbon, and
afterwards he remained in his household as his domestic chaplain, much
beloved and respected. And there he had entire command of his
lordship's fine library, and compiled and composed, and did everything
but publish and marry.

In due time the fair Magnolia made the amorous and formidable O'Flaherty
happy. Single blessedness was not for her, and it is due to her to say,
she turned out one of the best house-wives in Chapelizod, and made the
fireworker account for every shilling of his pay and other revenues, and
managed the commissariat and all other departments to admiration. She
cured her lord very nearly of boozing, and altogether of duelling. One
combat only he fought after his marriage, and it was rumoured that the
blooming Magnolia actually chastised the gigantic delinquent with her
own fair hand. That, however, I don't believe. But unquestionably she
did, in other ways, lead the contumacious warrior so miserable a life
for some months after that, as he averred to the major, with tears in
his eyes, it would have been 'more to his teeste to have been shot on
the occasion.' At first, of course, the fireworker showed fight, and
sometimes broke loose altogether; but in the end 'his mouth was made,'
his paces formed, and he became a very serviceable and willing animal.
But if she was strong she was also generous, and very popular for her
good nature and fearlessness. And they made a very happy, as well as a
comely couple. And many handsome children were nursed at her fair
breast, and drew many a Celtic virtue from that kindly fountain and one
of the finest grenadiers who lay in his red coat and sash within the
French lines on the field of Waterloo, in that great bivouac which knows
no _reveille_ save the last trumpet, was a scion of that fine military
stock.

At length came the day of the nuptials--a grand day for Belmont--a grand
day for the town. Half-a-dozen flags were up and floating in the
autumnal sun. The band of the Royal Irish Artillery played noble and
cheering strains upon the lawns of Belmont. There were pipers and
fiddlers beside for rustic merry-makers under the poplars. Barrels of
strong ale and