ce in
there!"

He was nearly paralyzed with astonishment. Suddenly a bright thought
struck him. He raised his trombone to his lips, and in spite of the
mingled emotions that agitated his breast, blew upon it a blast loud
enough to have waked the dead.

Imagine therefore how his previous astonishment was deepened into almost
idiotic wonder when he heard a reply from what appeared to be a trombone
of more gigantic power than his own. "Bur-r-r!" went Mr. Muldoon's
instrument.

"Boo-o-o!" replied the invisible respondent.

Billy was amazed. Billy was awe-stricken. But the instinct of the
musician rose above all other emotions.

"Sound your G!" said Billy.

"Boo-o-o!" was the answer in a deeper base than before.

"Yer out o' tune, ye domned old fool!" says Billy.

"Boo-o-o!" came the response once more.

"Sound yer G, and take that, ye murtherin spalpeen!" said the now
thoroughly exasperated musician, dashing his own instrument in the
direction of his invisible rival.

Just then poor Billy saw a ferocious-looking pair of eyes glaring at
him, and before he had time to add another word, some huge object rushed
towards him, struck him a determined blow, and lifting him off his perch
sent him into the middle of the road.

The fact is, Billy had wandered very much out of his way, and had
mistaken Ward Glazier's barn for his own dwelling. The supposed rival
musician was our old acquaintance, "Black-face," the Bull.

Billy picked himself up from the snow, and, regardless of his bruised
body and aching bones, steadied himself for a last shot at the enemy.
The little man looked in the direction where he thought his adversary
ought to be, and though he could see nothing through the darkness and
storm, he shouted out, in accents of blended dignity and contempt:

"May the divil fly away wid ye! Ye may be the sthronger of the two, but,
be jabers, yer no museecian!"

How he eventually got home and what were his sentiments regarding the
adventure with which he had met, are facts that do not concern this
history; but it is quite probable that he wondered as we have often
done, that St. Patrick, while engaged in the laudable task of expelling
snakes from the soil of the Emerald Isle, did not also provide that such
reptiles should keep out of the boots of her sons.

CHAPTER VI.

VISIONS OF THE FUTURE.

The big uncle and the little nephew.--Exchange of ideas between the
eccentric Henry Glazier and young W