e! ay, are they; and I could tell you a hundred better strokes, my
dear Miss Nugent.'

'Grace!' cried Lady Clonbrony, 'do pray have the goodness to seal and
send these notes; for really,' whispered she, as her niece came to the
table,'I CAWNT STEA, I cawnt bear that man's VICE, his accent grows
horrider and horrider!'

Her ladyship rose, and left the room.

'Why, then,' continued Sir Terence, following up Miss Nugent to the
table, where she was sealing letters, 'I must tell you how I sarved that
same man on another occasion, and got the victory too.'

No general officer could talk of his victories, or fight his battles
o'er again, with more complacency than Sir Terence O'Fay recounted his
CIVIL exploits.

'Now I'll tell Miss Nugent. There was a footman in the family, not an
Irishman, but one of your powdered English scoundrels that ladies are so
fond of having hanging to the backs of their carriages; one Fleming he
was, that turned spy, and traitor, and informer, went privately and gave
notice to the creditors where the plate was hid in the thickness of the
chimney; but if he did, what happened! Why, I had my counter-spy, an
honest little Irish boy, in the creditor's shop, that I had secured with
a little douceur of usquebaugh; and he outwitted, as was natural, the
English lying valet, and gave us notice just in the nick, and I got
ready for their reception; and, Miss Nugent, I only wish you'd seen the
excellent sport we had, letting them follow the scent they got; and when
they were sure of their game, what did they find?--Ha! ha! ha!--dragged
out, after a world of labour, a heavy box of--a load of brickbats; not
an item of my friend's plate--that was all snug in the coal-hole, where
them dunces never thought of looking for it. Ha! ha! ha!'

'But come, Terry,' cried Lord Clonbrony, 'I'll pull down your pride.
How finely, another time, your job of the false ceiling answered in the
hall. I've heard that story, and have been told how the sheriffs fellow
thrust his bayonet up through your false plaster, and down came
tumbling the family plate hey, Terry? That hit cost your friend, Lord
everybody-knows-who, more than your head's worth, Terry.'

'I ask your pardon, my lord, it never cost him a farthing.'

'When he paid L7000 for the plate, to redeem it?'

'Well! and did not I make up for that at the races of --? The creditors
learned that my lord's horse, Naboclish, was to run at--races; and, as
the sheriff's offic