with his fine figure, gave the very _beau ideal_ of an old
soldier.

When each had mixed his tumbler, Sam, brimful of the good news to which
he had alluded, filled a small glass, as was his wont, and placing it
before Beck, said:

"Come, Beck, attention!--'The king, God bless him!' Attention,
Dunphy!--off with it."

"The king, God bless him!" having been duly honored, Sam proceeded:

"Beck, my old partner, I said I had good news for you. Our son and
his regiment--three times eleven, eleven times three--the gallant
thirty-third, are in Dublin."

Beck laid down her stocking, and her eyes sparkled with delight.

"But that's not all, old girl, he has risen from the ranks--his
commission has been just made out, and he is now a commissioned officer
in his majesty's service. But I knew it would come to that. Didn't I say
so, old comrade, eh?"

"Indeed you did, Sam," replied his wife; "and I thought as much myself.
There was something about that boy beyond the common."

"Ay, you may say that, girl; but who found it out first? Why, I did;
but the thing was natural; it's all the heart of man--when that's in the
right place nothing will go wrong. What do you say, friend Dunphy? Did
you think it would ever come to this?"

"Troth, I did not, Mr. Roberts; but it's you he may thank for it."

"God Almighty first, Dunphy, and me afterwards. Well, he shan't want a
father, at all events; and so long as I have a few shiners to spare, he
shan't want the means of supporting his rank as a British officer and
gentleman should. There's news for you, Dunphy. Do you hear that, you
old dog--eh?"

"It's all the heart of man, Sam," observed his wife, eying him with
affectionate admiration. "When the heart's in the right place, nothing
will go wrong."

Now, nothing gratified Sam so much as to hear his own apothegms honored
by repetition.

"Eight, girl," he replied; "shake hands for that. Dunphy, mark the truth
of that. Isn't she worth gold, you sinner?"

"Troth she is, Mr. Roberts, and silver to the back o' that."

"What?" said Sam, looking at him with comic surprise. "What do you mean
by that, you ferret? Why don't you add, and 'brass to the back of that?'
By fife and drum, I won't stand this to Beck. Apologize instantly,
sir." Then breaking into a hearty laugh--"he meant no offence, Beck," he
added; "he respects and loves you--I know he does--as who doesn't that
knows you, my girl?"

"What I meant to say, Mr. Roberts--"

"Mrs