"Oh look at this;" shouted Barny, and he stamped on the deck with rage "look at the blackguards where they're stayin', just a-purpose to ruin an unfort'nate man like me. My heavy hathred to you, quit this minit or I'll run down an yes, an if we go the bottom, we'll hant you for evermore-go' long out o' that I tell you. The curse o' Črummil an you, you stupid vagabones, that wont go out iv a man's noraist coorse!!"

From cursing Barny went to praying as he came closer" For the tendher marcy o' heavin and leave my way. May the Lord reward you, and get out o' my nor-aist coorse! May angels make your bed in heavin and dont ruinate me this a-way." The brig was immoveable, and Barny gave up in despair, having cursed and prayed himself hoarse, and finished with a duet volley of prayers and curses together, apostrophising the hard case of a man being "done out of his nor-aist coorse.” "A-hoy there!!" shouted a voice from the brig, "put down your helm or you'll be aboard of us. I say, let go your jib and foresheet-what are you about you lubbers?"

'Twas true that the brig lay so fair in Barny's course that he would have been aboard, but that instantly the manœuvre above alluded to was put in practice on board the hooker, as she swept to destruction towards the heavy hull of the brig, and she buffed up into the wind along side her. A very pale and somewhat emaciated face appeared at the side, and addressed Barny"What brings you here?" was the question.

"Throth thin, and I think I might betther ax what brings you here, right in the way o' my nor-aist coorse.'

"Where do you come from?" "From Kinsale; and you did'nt come from a betther place, I go bail." "Where are you bound to ?" "To Fingall."

"Fingall where's Fingall." "Why thin aint you ashamed o' yourself an' not to know where Fingall is ?"

"It is not in these seas." "Oh that's all you know about it." says Barny.

"You're a small craft to be so far at I suppose you have provision on board."

sea.

"To be sure we have; throth if we hadn't, this id be a bad place to go a beggin."

"What have you eatable?"
"The finest o' scalpeens."
"What are scalpeens?"

"Why you're mighty ignorant intirely;" said Barny, "why scalpeens is pickled mackarel."

"Then you must give us some, for we have been out of every thing eatable these three days: and even pickled fish is better than nothing."

It chanced that the brig was a West India trader, that unfavourable winds had delayed much beyond the expected period of time on her voyage, and though her water had not failed, every thing eatable had been consumed, and the crew reduced almost to helplessness. In such a strait the arrival of Barny O'Reirdon and his scalpeens was a most providential succour to them, and a lucky chance for Barny, for he got in exchange for his pickled fish a handsome return of rum and sugar, much more than equivalent to their value. Barny lamented much however that the brig was not bound for Ireland, that he might practice his own peculiar system of navigation; but as staying with the brig could do no good, he got himself put into his nor-aist coorse once more, and ploughed away towards home.

The disposal of his cargo was a great God-send to Barny in more ways than one. In the first place he found the most profitable market he could have had, and secondly it enabled him to cover his retreat from the difficulty which still was before him of not getting to Fingal after all his dangers, and consequently being open to discovery and disgrace. All these beneficial results were not thrown away upon one of Barny's readiness to avail himself of every point in his favour; and, accordingly, when they left the brig, Barny said to his companions, "why thin boys, 'pon my conscience but I'm as proud as a horse wid a wooden leg this minit, that we met them poor unfort'nate craythers this blessed day, and was enabled to extind our charity to them. Sure an' it's lost they'd be only for our comin' acrass them, and we, through the blessin' o' God, enabled to do an act of marcy, that is, feedin' the hungry; and sure every good work we

do here is before uz in heaven-and that's a comfort any how. To be sure, now that the scalpeens is sowld, there's no use in goin' to Fingal, and we may as well jist go home.'

"Faix I'm sorry myself," said Jemmy, "for Terry O'Sullivan said it was an illigant place intirely, an' I wanted to see it."

"To the divil wid Terry O'Sullivan," said Barny, what does he know what's an illigant place? What knowledge has he of illigance? I'll go bail he never was half as far a navigatin' as we-he wint the short cut I go bail, and never daar'd for to vinture the round, as I did."

"By dad we wor a great dale longer any how, than he towld me he was."

To be sure we wor," said Barny, "he wint skulkin' by the short cut, I tell you, and was afeard to keep a bowid offin' like me.-But come boys, let uz take a dhrop o' that bottle o' sper'ts we got out o' the brig. By gor it's well we got some bottles iv it; for I wouldn't much like to meddle wid that darlint little kag iv it antil we get home." The rum was put on its trial by Barny and his companions, and in their critical judgment was pronounced quite as good as the captain of the ship had bestowed upon them, but that neither of those specimens of spirit was to be compared to whiskey. "By dad," says Barny, "they may rack their brains a long time before they'll make out a purtier invintion than potteen—that rum may do very well for thim that has the misforthin not to know betther; but the whiskey is a more nath'ral sper't accordin to my idays." In this, as in most other of Barny's opinions, Peter and Jemmy coincided.

Nothing particular occurred for the two succeeding days, during which time Barny most religiously pursued his Nor-Aist coorse, but the third day produced a new and important event. A sail was discovered on the horizon, and in the direction Barny was steering, and a couple of hours made him tolerably certain that the vessel in sight was an American, for though it is needless to say he was not very conversant in such matters, yet from the frequency of his seeing Americans trading to Ireland, his eye had become sufficiently accustomed to their lofty and tapering spars, and peculiar smartness of rig, to satisfy him that the ship before him VOL. I.

was of transatlantic build: nor was he wrong in his conjecture.

Barny now determined on a mancuvre, classing him amongst the first tacticians at securing a good retreat.

Moreau's highest fame rests upon his celebrated retrograde movement through the Black-forest.

Xenophon's greatest glory is derived from the deliverance of his ten thousand Greeks from impending ruin by his renowned retreat.

66

Let the ancient and the modern hero repose under the shadow of their laurels," as the French have it, while Barny O'Reirdon's historian, with a pardonable jealousy for the honour of his country, cuts down a goodly bough of the classic tree, beneath which our Hibernian hero may enjoy his "otium cum dignitate."

Barny calculated the American was bound for Ireland, and as she lay almost as directly in the way of his "NorAist coorse," as the West Indian brig, he bore up to and spoke her.

He was answered by a shrewd Yankee Captain.

"Faix an' its glad I am to see your honour again," said Barny.

The Yankee had never been to Ireland, and told Barny so.

"Oh throth I couldn't forget a gintleman so aisy as that," said Barny.

"You're pretty considerably mistaken now, I guess," said the Ameri

can.

"Divil a taste," said Barny, with inimitable composure and pertinacity. "Well, if you know me so tarnation well, tell me what's my name." The Yankee flattered himself he had nailed Barny now.

"Your name, is it?" said Barny, gaining time by repeating the question, "Why what a fool you are not to know your own name.

The oddity of the answer posed the American, and Barny took advantage of the diversion in his favour, and changed the conversation.

"By dad I've been waitin' here these four or five days, expectin' some of you would be wantin' me."

"Some of us!-How do you mean?" "Surean' arn't you from Amerikay?" "Yes; and what then?"

"Well, I say I was waitin' for some ship or other from Amerikay, that ud be wantin' me. "It's to Ireland you're goin' I dar' say."

U

"Yes."

"Well, I suppose you'll be wantin' a pilot," said Barny.

"Yes, when we get in shore, but not yet."

"Oh, I dont't want to hurry you," said Barny.

"What port are a pilot of?" "Why indeed, as for the matther o' that," said Barny, "they're all aiqual to me a'most.

"All," said the American. "Why I calculate you couldn't pilot a ship into all the ports of Ireland."

"Not all at wanst (once)," said Barny, with a laugh, in which the American could not help joining. "Well, I say, what ports do you know best?"

"Why thin, indeed," said Barny, it would be hard for me to tell; but wherever you want to go, I'm the man that'll do the job for you complate. Where is your honour goin'?"

"I won't tell you that-but do you tell me what ports you know best?" "Why there's Watherford, an' there's Youghall, an' Fingal."

"Fingal! Where's that?"

"So you don't know where Fingal is.-Oh, I see you're a sthranger, sir, -an' then there's Cork." "You know Cove, then."

"Is it the Cove o' Cork why?"
"Yes."

"I was bred an' born there, and pilots as many ships into Cove as any other two min out iv it."

Barny thus sheltered his falsehood under the idiom of his language. "But what brought you so far out to sea?" asked the captain.

"We wor lyin' out lookin' for ships that wanted pilots, and there kem an the terriblest gale o' wind aff the land, an' blew us to say out intirely, an' that's the way iv it, your honour." "I calculate we got a share of the same gale; 'twas from the NorEast."

"Oh, directly!" said Barny, "faith you're right enough, 'twas the Nor-Aist coorse we wor an sure enough; but no matther now that we've met wid you -sure we'll have a job home anyhow." "Well, get aboard then," said the American.

"I will in a minit, your honour, whin I jist spake a word to my comrades here."

you are," said Jemmy, in his simplicity of heart.

"Whist, you omadhaun!" said Barny," or I'll cut the tongue out o'

you.

Now mind me, Pether. You don't understan' navigashin and the varrious branches o' knowledge, an' so all you have to do is to folly the ship when I get into her, an' I'll show you the way home."

Barny then got aboard the American vessel, and begged of the captain, that as he had been out at sea so long, and had gone through a "power o' hardship intirely," that he would be permitted to go below and turn in to take a sleep, "for in troth its myself and sleep that is sthrayngers for some time," said Barny," an' if your honour 'ill be plazed I'll be thankful if you won't let them disturb me antil I'm wanted, for sure till you see the land there's no use for me in life, an' throth I want a sleep sorely.'

Barny's request was granted, and it will not be wondered at, that after so much fatigue of mind and body, he slept profoundly for four-and-twenty hours. He then was called, for land was in sight, and when he came on deck the captain rallied him upon the potency of his somniferous qualities and

calculated" he had never met any one who could sleep "fourand-twenty hours on a stretch before."

"Oh, sir," said Barny, rubbing his eyes, which were still a little hazy, "whiniver I go to sleep I pay attintion to it."

The land was soon neared, and Barny put in charge of the ship, when he ascertained the first land mark he was acquainted with; but as soon as the Head of Kinsale hove in sight, Barny gave a "whoo," and cut a caper that astonished the Yankees, and was quite inexplicable to them, though, we flatter ourselves, it is not to those who do Barny the favour of reading his adventures.

"Oh! there you are, my darlint ould head! an' where's the head like you? throth its little I thought I'd ever set eyes an your good-looking faytures agin. But God's good!"

In such half muttered exclamations did Barny apostrophise each wellknown point of his native shore, and, when opposite the harbour of Kinsale he spoke the hooker that was somewhet astern, and ordered Jemmy and Peter