e ye?"

I made no reply, and my father replied gravely:

"My son is eighteen."

"Is he, now? And ye're forty, I suppose?"

"I am sorry to say I am over fifty," replied my father, as I stood
chafing at the man's insolent, bullying tone.

"Then ye don't look it, sor. But there, we'll leave ye alone for a bit.
I dare say we can do without ye this time, and take the bhoy."

"What for--where?" said my father quickly.

"What for--where?" cried the man. "For the commando, of course."

"The commando?" said my father, while I felt staggered, only
half-grasping the import of his words.

"Yes, sor, the commando. D'ye suppose ye are to have the protection of
the State, and do nothing again' your counthry's inimies? If ye do
ye're greatly mistaken. Every man must take his turn to difind the
counthry, and ye may feel preciously contented that ye don't have to
join yerself."

"But I have heard of no rising," said my father, looking at me
anxiously. "The blacks all about here are peaceable and friendly."

"Not the blackest blacks, sor," said the man, drawing himself up and
raising one hand and his voice in an oratorical way; "the blacks I mane
are white-skinned, but black in the heart through and through; the
blacks who are the dispisers of progress, the foes of freedom, the
inimies of the counthry, sor--the despicable, insolent Saxons."

"Do you mean the English?" said my father coolly.

"I do that, sor," said the man defiantly; "and the day has dawned at
last when the down-thrampled Boers are goin' to give them a lesson that
shall make the British lion snaik out of this counthry with his tail
between his legs like a beaten dog."

"You are a British subject, sir," said my father.

"Mahn, I scorrun it," cried our visitor. "I have thrown off all fealty
years ago, and am a free Irishman, and captain of the body of brave men
who are going to dhrive the tyranny of England out of this colony for
ever."

"This is all news to me, sir," said my father coldly.

"Is it, sor?" said our visitor mockingly. "Then I'm proud to be the
bearer of the great news."

"Do you mean to tell me, then," said my father, "that there is war
declared by England against the Boers?"

"No, sor," cried the fellow insolently; "but I tell you that we have
declared war again' the brutal Saxon."

"We, sir?" said my father gravely. "But you are one of the Queen's
servants--an Irishman."

"Nothing of the sort, sor. I disown England; I di