ver it did not reach far enough down his back, it was
impossible to view him behind without convulsive laughter. His shoes
were made of some description of foreign bark, which had by some
chemical process been tanned into toughness, and on his head he wore
a turban of linen, made of the same material which furnished his
other garments. Altogether, a more ludicrous figure could not be seen,
especially if a person happened to stand behind him when he bowed.
Notwithstanding all this, however, he possessed the manners and bearing
of a gentleman; the only thing remarkable about him, beyond what we have
described, being a peculiar wildness of the eyes, accompanied, however,
by an unquestionable expression of great benignity.

We leave the company at the Well preparing for the forthcoming
dinner and return to Rathfillan House, where Harry Woodward is making
arrangements for his journey to Ballyspellan, which now we believe goes
by the name of Johnstown. Under every circumstance of his life he was a
plotter and a planner, and had at all times some private speculation in
view. On the present occasion, in addition to his murderous design
upon Miss Goodwin, he resolved to become a wife-hunter, for, being well
acquainted, as he was, with the tone and temper of English society at
its most celebrated watering places, and. the matrimonial projects and
intrigues which abound at them, he took it for granted that he might
stand a chance of making a successful hit with a view to matrimony. One
thing struck him, however, which was, that he had no horse, and could
not go there mounted, as a gentleman ought. It is true his step-father
had several horses, but not one of them beyond the character of a
common hack. He resolved, therefore, to purchase a becoming nag for his
journey, and with this object he called upon a neighboring farmer, named
Murray, who possessed a very beautiful animal, rising four, and which he
learned was to be disposed of.

"Mr. Murray," said he, "I understand you have a young horse for sale."

"I have, sir," replied Murray; "and a better piece of flesh is not in
the country he stands in."

"Could I see him?"

"Certainly, sir, and try him, too. He is not flesh and bone at all,
sir--devil a thing he is but quicksilver. Here, Paudeen, saddle Brien
Boro for this gentleman. You won't require wings, Mr. Woodward; Brien
Boro will show you how to fly without them."

"Well," replied Woodward, "trial's all; but at any rate,