'Hi! stop!' I cried, when Rourke interposed,

'See to him! see to him!' he

said.

We did see to him.

Peter halted at a gate about a quarter of a mile from the wall which he had just adorned, and there, with much trouble, paste, and care, stuck on the top bar the magic words 'ANY LANDS THIS EVENING.'

Rourke, Jack, and I roared with laughter, as we explained his mistake to him.

Crowds of the operatives turned out at noon, and watched our proceedings with considerable interest. They all knew Peter, and gave him kind words of encouragement and advice. As he was posting away, a woman said,

'Ah, Pether dear, but you're makin' the gate look purty!'

And a man advised him, as he was endeavouring to placard a wall,

'Ye should stick it up hoigher, Pether,' he said, 'conspicuous to the sun!'

But Peter behaved with official reserve, and made no sign of hearing. We heard afterwards that the work-folk carefully stripped the posters while wet from the walls, and carried them to their cabins, where they stuck them up as pictures, and admired them as works of foreign art illustrative of some remarkable event the opening of the Dublin Exhibition, or the passing of Repeal.

Rourke had enormous difficulty in procuring a piano. Mr. Donnelly regretted that Mrs. Donnelly could not spare hers, as it was required for the use of the young ladies who were finishing. Nor love nor money could hire one. At last we were advised to apply to Mr. de Winter, the only music and singing master in the place, who, the paternal Donnelly informed us, had a piano-though whether he would lend it was a matter of extreme improbability. Mr. de Winter, in common with the rest of the population, lived up a hill. We rapped, and Mr. de Winter himself, in his shirt-sleeves, opened the door. We explained our errand, and Mr. de Winter, a grave and solemn man,

disappeared and then reappeared putting on his coat.

'We'll go and have some whisky,' he said; and he led us into a grocer's shop, containing no articles of grocery, but whisky, bottled beer, and candles.

'You never were in Shandranaghan before, were you?' he asked. 'No.'

'No!' he replied; 'I s'pose not. D'ye think of stay'n here?'

Not more than the two nights.' 'Not more? No! I'd not advise more. Here's my-best wishes,' he said mournfully. Shandranaghan

is a quare spot!'
'Is it?' we said.

'O, and it's a quare spot.'
'People fond of music?' we in
quired.

'Fond of music!' he repeated, 'fond of it! Would it be them? O, an' it's a quare spot; but ye're not stay'n long, an' it's wantin' the loan of a piano you are?'

'Yes, and if you could oblige

us-'

'If you've a piano and wouldn't mind-'

'We'll take the greatest care of it,' we all said together.

'O, I've a piano, and-small

blame to me-I teach the children. I've eleven of 'em-children, not pianos. What would you be wanting to give for the hire of it?'

We said that in England it was usual for the vendor of an article to set his price upon it; but when informed that it was the custom in Shandranaghan for purchasers to be the first to mention terms, we succumbed, and proposed a guinea.

'A guinea!' he echoed, ah, yes, a guinea 'll do; and ye'll have to pay the men for fetchin' it, and for carryin' of it back. Pether 'll do that.'

We objected to Peter.

'He's strong, is Pether, though he's little,' said Mr. de Winter, and he does all those sort o' things here -music-and-and bill-stickingit's his perquisite. Ye'll take some more punch?'

We declined, but Mr. de Winter was obstinate, and we left the grocery' slightly elated; the mu

sic-master wishing us luck, and telling us that Shandranaghan was a quare spot.

Don't you think, Jack,' I said, 'that Mr. de Winter's manner and appearance are very like-'

Vanderdecken! I catch the idea -quite so.'

The posters up, the bills distributed, the piano placed, tuned by Rourke, and the Hall dusted by Pether-another of his perquisites -and his bride, two days passed, during which we were regarded by all who saw us rather as Englishmen might be in Aleppo than in any portion of her Majesty's dominions. The eventful morning dawned on the evening of which we were to 'throw off.'

No places had been taken at the printer's. Mr. Donnelly told us that the aristocracy seldom came till the second night. We dined at four, as the landlord remarked, 'sumptuosity,' took a cup of tea, and at five began to dress. Despite the heat, I threw on a gray overcoat. Jack, however, walked out in all the funereal solemnity of extreme evening Belgravia. We were shaved in true professional style-each sporting a moustache, smooth cheeks and chin.

I need not say the institute stood upon a hill. As we strode up it gently, the inhabitants flocked to their windows and doorsteps to look at us. Little boys ran after us, and workmen and peasants accompanied us. Such is fame!

'We shall have a rare full house,' said Jack, all these people are coming. It's wonderful how fond folks are of a private view of professional people, aint it?'

The words were hardly uttered when a woman appeared in sight. She was dusty, dishevelled, had been drinking, and evidently mistook us for a popular demonstration, a national pageant, or political procession!

'O,' she cried, 'the darlens ! the beauties! O, the pretty men! Is it themselves? O, look at 'em! Ohoo!'

'It's Judy!' said the lookers-on. Ab, Judy, go home.'

'I'll not; it's themselves that are

'I'll

the dandy!' replied Judy. have a kiss o' both, the darlens!' 'Ah! go away and don't bother, Judy; it's strangers the gentlemen are, see ye,' said a bystander. dark innocent,' said another to us; 'it's best not to cross her, as she's the gurrl that can fight. Give her a kiss and let her go.'

'She's a poor

Both Jack and I saw that to refuse Miss or Mrs. Judy's demonstration of regard would be a proceeding fraught with danger. We therefore submitted to her salute in full sight of about a hundred persons, the market clock, which had only one hand, and that did not go, looking down upon us.

The ceremony over, Judy requested a penny with which to drink our health, and long life to it; and again we took the advice of disinterested bystanders and complied. The lady then removed the blockade, and we passed on, accompanied by the spectators, who by this time had mustered into a considerable crowd.

No sooner did we reach the open gate of the Hall than the foremost slunk away, and the rest disappeared as if by magic.

We found Mr. Donnelly in the courtyard, and could hear Rourke thundering away at Moore's Melo

dies in the Hall.

The doors were opened at halfpast seven, of which fact not one solitary individual took the slightest notice. At eight the public of Shandranaghan remained in the same state of apathy.

'Is no one coming?' I asked.

Rourke laughed; and Mr. Donnelly tried to smile, and failed; then tried to look sympathetic, and failed again.

At seven minutes past eight there was a rush of one. The eldest son of the landlord of the 'hotel,' to whom we had promised a free admission, claimed his privilege, and showed himself into the reserved seats, where he watched Rourke, who indulged him with variations from the Traviata for half an hour, after which the boy, thoroughly satisfied with the entertainment, went home. We continued to look on Mr. Donnelly, who, in his turn,

looked on the docks and dandelions, and when it was quite dark, sneaked back to the hotel. After supper, Mr. Donnelly was announced, and I thought was about to dilute his punch with tears, he was so moved at our failure, but he hoped for the best from the following night. For ourselves, the reaction from our annoyance came on us with full force, and we roared with laughter. Our ill-timed mirth drove Mr. Donnelly away, and we were just going to bed when Mr. de Winter showed his melancholy head at the door.

Mr. de Winter first inquired if we would take some whisky, and on our mentioning that we were in our own room, and could not permit him to pay for us, he reluctantly consented to make one glass of punch.

It's a quare spot is Shandranaghan,' he said in his own mournful key. 'Ye didn't know it. 'Tis not the punch I came about, but the piano. Pether 'll bring it back. Ye've not played, ye see, and so-'

And he laid our guinea on the table.

We protested-a bargain was a bargain, we were men of means, &c., but in vain; the music-master stuck to his point and carried it.

'Ye're young, ye're young,' he said, and Shandranaghan's a quare spot. I know what it is myself. I've eleven of 'em, all with a taste for music-more's the pity. Is it me take the guinea and you so young?'

It would have been a snobbish barbarity to refuse his kindness; and no sooner had we accepted it than he changed from Vanderdecken to Mynheer von Dunck, and told stories and sang songs, the like of which were never heard save from the lips of an Irishman, or out of the pages of Sheridan, Moore, Lover, and Lever.

He kept us up till five o'clock. At nine we took a car, and steamed back to Dublin; we renounced the prospective profits of the rest of our

route.

'We haven't quite cleared 2007.,
Jack,' I said on the deck of the boat
that was shaking us to Holyhead.
'N-o,' he returned. 'I thought

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