t fortunately could not open the carriage door. Just then the
gate-keeper's wife hurried out, and joined her husband in hurling abuse
at us.

"I see who you are," she exclaimed, "a party of vagabond stage-players
running away from Cork, where you haven't paid your bills, and going to
wheedle the people at Limerick out of their money."

"That's true enough, mistress," said Fitzgerald, who had a soft tongue
in his head when he chose to use it; "but we're coming back soon, and
we'll pay you double for the beating your husband has got, and remember,
the next time he deserves it you'll pardon him for our sakes, and it
will save you the trouble of giving it to him. It's not to Limerick
we're going, but only to Castle Blatherbrook, where we're to play for
the entertainment of the wedding guests, for it's Mr Maurice O'Finnahan
is to marry Miss Kathleen O'Brien; and Mr O'Brien, the lady's father,
will be after paying us well, for he's as rich as Croesus, and we'll
bring away a bottle or two of the cratur to comfort your old soul."

As Phil had by this time ceased beating his horses, which stood quietly
enough while Fitz was giving this address, the old man let go their
heads and came to listen.

"Shure then you look like dacent stage-players, for certain; and as I'm
mighty fond of a good tune, now just give us one, and maybe if I like
it, I'll let you off this time, and thank you into the bargain," said
the old soldier.

"With all the pleasure in the world," answered Fitz. "There's our
musician sitting behind the coach, and he'll tune up his fiddle while we
tune up our pipes, and just consider what's likely to please you."

Larry, on hearing this, shouted out--

"I'll be after giving you what'll make your old hearts bump right
merrily, if it doesn't set your heels agoing," and, putting his riddle
to his chin, he began playing one of his merriest airs.

"Arrah now, but that's a brave tune," cried the old woman, beginning to
shuffle her feet, though she hadn't much elasticity in her limbs.

"It's a song we're after wanting," cried the gate-keeper; "shure you'll
give us a song, gentlemen?"

"Well, you shall have one to begin with, and you shall have a dozen when
we come back from the wedding," cried Fitz, and he struck up--

"As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping
With a pitcher of milk from the fair of Coleraine,
When she saw me she stumbled,
The pitcher it tumbled,
And all the sweet buttermilk wate