ommencing between my head and my stomach; and how the communication
may terminate, whether peaceably or otherwise, would require, O divine
Jacinta! your tripodial powers or prophecy to predict. The whiskey, in
whatever shape or under whatever disguise you take it, is richly worthy
of all condemnation."

"I will drink no more of it, uncle," replied the other man; "it would
soon sicken me, too. This shan't pass; it's gross imposition--and that
is a bad thing to practise in this world. Ginty, touch the bell, will
you?--we will make them get us better."

A smile of a peculiar nature passed over the woman's ghastly features as
she looked with significant caution at her brother, for such he was.

"Yes, do get better whiskey," she said; "it's too bad that we should
make my uncle sick from mere kindness."

"I cannot exactly say that I am much out of order as yet," replied the
schoolmaster, "but, as they say, if the weather has not broken, the sky
is getting troubled; I hope it is only a false, alarm, and may pass away
without infliction. If there is any of the minor miseries of life more
trying than another, it is to drink liquor that fires the blood, splits
the head, but basely declines to elevate and rejoice the heart. O,
divine poteen! immortal essence of the _hordeum beatum!_--which is
translated holy barley--what drink, liquor, or refreshment can be
placed, without the commission of something like small sacrilege,
in parallel with thee! When I think of thy soothing and gradually
exhilarating influence, of the genial spirit of love and friendship
which, owing to thee, warms the heart of man, and not unfrequently of
the softer sex also; when I reflect upon the cheerful light which
thou diffusest by gentle degrees throughout the soul, filling it with
generosity, kindness, and courage, enabling it to forget care and
calamity, and all the various ills that flesh is heir to; when I
remember too that thou dost so frequently aid the inspiration of the
bard, the eloquence of the orator, and changest the modesty of the
diffident lover into that easy and becoming assurance which is so
grateful to women, is it any wonder I should feel how utterly incapable
I am, without thy own assistance, to expound thy eulogium as I ought!
Hand that tumbler here, Charley,--bad as it is, there is no use, as
the proverb says, in laving one's liquor behind them. We will presently
correct it with better drink."

Charley Corbet, for such was the nam