words, "of the cat in the thripe shop," he
didn't know which way to choose. At last, after turning himself over in
the sun several times, a new idea struck him. Couldn't he go to Fingal
himself? and then he'd be equal to that upstart, O'Sullivan. No sooner
was the thought engendered, than Barny sprang to his feet a new man; his
eye brightened, his step became once more elastic,--he walked erect, and
felt himself to be all over Barny O'Reirdon once more. "Richard was
himself again."

But where was Fingal?--there was the rub. That was a profound mystery to
Barny, which, until discovered, must hold him in the vile bondage of
inferiority. The plain-dealing reader would say, "Couldn't he ask?" No,
no; that would never do for Barny: that would be an open admission of
ignorance his soul was above, and consequently Barny set his brains to
work to devise measures of coming at the hidden knowledge by some
circuitous route, that would not betray the end he was working for. To
this purpose, fifty stratagems were raised, and demolished in half as
many minutes, in the fertile brain of Barny, as he strided along the
shore; and as he was working hard at the fifty-first, it was knocked all
to pieces by his jostling against some one whom he never perceived he
was approaching, so immersed was he in his speculations, and on looking
up, who should it prove to be but his friend "the long sailor from the
Aystern Injees." This was quite a godsend to Barny, and much beyond
what he could have hoped for. Of all men under the sun, the long sailor
was the man in a million for Barny's net at that minute, and accordingly
he made a haul of him, and thought it the greatest catch he ever made in
his life.

Barny and the long sailor were in close companionship for the remainder
of the day, which was closed, as the preceding one, in a carouse; but on
this occasion there was only a duet performance in honor of the jolly
god, and the treat was at Barny's expense. What the nature of their
conversation during the period was, I will not dilate on, but keep it as
profound a secret as Barny himself did, and content myself with saying,
that Barny looked a much happier man the next day. Instead of wearing
his hat slouched, and casting his eyes on the ground, he walked about
with his usual unconcern, and gave his nod and the passing word of
_civilitude_ to every friend he met; he rolled his quid of tobacco about
in his jaw with an air of superior enjoyment, and if