cted change came over the temporal circumstances of poor
Wheelwright. The girls under the charge of his accomplished consort
having been engaged in a frolic during her absence to prepare the
pottage for dinner--and girls at school will always have their
frolics--the gentle instructress returned in a rage, flushed with
passion, the heat of the kitchen fire, and perhaps a drop of the
CRATHUR--swore several big Irish oaths that she would have no more such
carryings on by the _childers_ in her house, and by the powers, she
would be afther clearing them out--the spalpeens!--that's what she
would, honies!

It was her first outbreak of the kind, and the little misses were
appalled, and many of them, thinking, perhaps, that she was crazy, or
had "a drop in her eye," ran home in affright. Nor did their parents,
or at least the most of them, allow their children again to return.

"Rare are solitary woes," says the poet--on the contrary, they are ever
apt to be treading each other's heels; and it was so with the hero of
this biography in the present instance. The school had been undertaken
as a temporary resource, during the pendency of the legal measures
necessary to obtain his estates. It had now been suddenly broken up,
and that, too, before any thing but delays and expense had been
realized. An incident that occurred the day following, moreover, might
have occasioned misgivings as to the future to a man of quicker
perceptions than Mr. Wheelwright--but fortunately his wife was the
earliest riser. It happened that as his spouse was exchanging some
rather undignified jokes with the milkman, a jolly son of Erin came
along, whose rubicund visage kindled with a thousand smiles as his eyes
rested on the lady.

"Och! the top o' the morning to you, Misthress Judy O'Calloran!" says
Pat. "Divil burn me, but it's a long while sin my eyes have seen the
like o'ye, Misthress Judy," he continued.

"And that's you, Misther Thady O'Flannerty," replied the fair one--"but
I'm not Misthress Judy O'Calloran,--and d'ye think it's myself that
does'ent know."

"Troth, and if ye're not Misthress Judy, honey, then it's not your dare
ould mother's darther that ye be."

"Whisht!" rejoined the lady:--"Don't ye percave that it's not I--it's
not Judy--botheration, Thady--how can ye be afther coming where you
ain't known?"

"Och, Judy, thin ye see if it's not ye'rsel, it's bekase I'm not Thady
O'Flannerty that was, sin the wake last night. But it's m