launched out into a hundred different remarks; but, when the whole series of transactions were thus reviewed, there was not one of them that blamed Fitzpatrick.

"It was a hard case, to be sure, that father did not get his money; but, then if he had not taken the three pieces of advice instead of it, what would the money have signified? Would not the robbers have got all? And then, how would he have escaped from being taken up as one of the suspected of a murder (which none of them doubted had taken place), but for the farmer. And would not Jemmy have been killed too? Well, well, well," they would say, "the Lord be praised! It is all for the best; and never fear but something will turn up."

At this period, too, Connor was reminded by his wife of the small loaf which the farmer's wife had baked for her, and which she was quite longing to taste. "Come, out with it, Connor; I'll help you, and cut the stitches with the new scissars. I wish to taste it, and look at it. Here, I'll help you; and, maybe there will be a bit for us all round; and by this (looking mounfully at her children) you'll be hungry enough, I'll engage."

As the loaf slowly emerged from Connor's pockets there was a pause of expectation; but, fairly placed on the table, every countenance brightened up. Connor undertook the division, flourishing his knife, and then looking round, as if to calculate the number of pieces into which the loaf should be divided. At the first plunge of the knife, its sturdy point demolished the frail sides of a small earthen pot concealed within the loaf; and, to the absolute bewonderment of the circle, out came a shower of eighty guineas upon the table!

If the celebrated Sir David Wilkie, or our friend Mr. Cruikshank, had been alive at the period I am speaking of, or could any other artist of equal merit have seated himself on the side of Connor's bed, with a pencil in his hand,-how quickly might he have designed a companion to the picture of woe before described! The same mouths now wide open, the same eyes glistening with ecstasy, and directed to the treasures which had just escaped from good Mrs. Fitzpatrick's loaf. Truly this world of ours is full of ups and downs, and dame Fortune seems quite as busy in racking her inventive powers as dame Nature herself.

While Connor was scraping his hoard together, his eye caught the end of a small packet which appeared in the midst of the gold; and, upon opening it, a letter was found from the honest farmer of Kilkenny. It was read aloud by Jemmy, who had become a tolerable scholar at the parish school, patronised by Mr. Corbett, and ran as follows:

"DEAR CONNOR,

"I hope this letter will stand the baking. The mistress and I have a trick in our heads, which we intend to practise upon you tomorrow, and I hope I shall succeed with you; for there would be a great many chances against your taking your wages home in the regular way; and, as to the advice I shall give you, no fear of my ever robbing you of that.

"Friend Connor, you have now got a great deal more in your head than when you came three years ago to dig my potatoes; for you did not know at that time how much your head carried, any

more than you will know what is inside the little loaf you will have in your pocket to-morrow (God willing): but it was not long before I found out that you were a knowledgeable man, and also a better thing still-that you were a strictly honest man. So, now,

all I have to tell you is this,-make as good a use of your money as possible, and turn it over often at fairs and markets, with pigs, sheep and cattle; and so may the heavenly Father bless you and yours, and send you luck, is the wish of

"Your friend,

"JAMES FITZPATRICK."

When Jemmy finished reading the farmer's letter, great and long were the praises bestowed upon that good man and his wife, and many the prayers that the blessing of God might rest upon them and their family for ever.

The money was then carefully counted out, and put into Nelly's hands, who, turning to the children, charged them all to secresy, and that they should not be talking to the neighbours, or saying one word about the guineas, or the murder,-to all which Connor assented; for he added, though they were determined to be kind to those about them, "it was no use putting the country up to their present riches, as it would only be bringing crowds of people asking questions, and trying to borrow money for their various occasions ;" and, as to the murder, he declared he would never speak of it till he saw Mr. Corbett, who he believed to be the only man that would give him proper advice about it. So, after a long deliberation it was resolved that half the money they now possessed should be hid in a safe place; and that Connor, assisted by Jemmy, should begin to turn the other half over, by buying stock at the fairs and markets, and seeing where they might afterwards dispose of it to the best advantage.*

And now, having settled everything to general satisfaction, they all crept into their respective resting-places: and seldom had sleep visited so happy a family; for they were rich beyond the utmost bounds of their expectations, and airy visions of bliss contrived to flit across the hours of their repose.

The morning was advanced when they got up. The meal they assembled to partake of was scanty enough; but the general endearments which passed sweetened their homely fare, and health, and the exuberance of pleasure, crowned their board with countless luxuries.

It was mid-day when Nelly, who was ever industrious, whether at home or abroad, settled herself to spin; while the children, according to their age and strength, were directed to various employments. Would it were always so in an Irish cabin!

Connor declared his intention to go up to Mr. Corbett's, who was not only the nearest magistrate, but for that year high-sheriff of the county of Clare. He had a beautiful house about three miles off, and was universally beloved and respected. Jemmy accompanied

It may appear singular that Connor and his wife should have mutually permitted even their children to participate in such secrets as these. But I believe it will be admitted by those who have a much better knowledge of this country than I possess, that the virtue of secresy, as practised in Ireland, but too often borders upon the vice of concealment.

his father, who was much better pleased with him and his whiskers than he had been the preceding night; for, in truth, Jemmy was a fine lad now, nearly eighteen years of age, and, moreover, as straight and handsome "a boy" as could be seen in the neighbourhood; and, if it was thus he looked in a tattered waistcoat and without sleeves, it may be readily imagined what an improvement was soon afterwards effected when he appeared in a new frieze coat, and with a pair of stout brogues on his feet.

Unfortunately they were just a day too late for Mr. Corbett, who had taken his family to Dublin, and was not expected back for five or six weeks; during which time Connor, however, still determined to keep his own counsel, not knowing, as he used to say, "what might come of random talking." He therefore busily entered into his proposed employments, and soon appeared as the shrewd and experienced jobber, in which business, also, he was most ably assisted by his son. Nor was it long before a success was apparent which seldom fails to attend a sober, honest, and steady trader in any line.

The cabin was now amply supplied with potatoes; and a good milch cow afforded them plenty of milk; and, though the winter was a severe one, they had a real summer of contentment.

Six weeks had now nearly expired, when that excellent man and indefatigable magistrate, Mr. Corbett, returned with his family. He had come back from Dublin to attend the Ennis assizes as sheriff, and the business of the courts being finished, the judges had moved on to Limerick the day before.

Leaving Jemmy in the kitchen, Connor was readily ushered into Mr. Corbett's presence; who, being a very benevolent man, was much pleased to see him so sensibly improved in manners and appearance, and desired him to sit down and tell him all that had happened to him during his absence.

Connor could not begin his recital till he had poured out his acknowledgments for all "his honour's charity and kindness to his poor wife and children. Nelly would have been lost entirely but for his honour, and the children begging about the country." And so he would have gone on for half an hour if he had been permitted; but Mr. Corbett stopped him short, telling him he had a great deal of business to attend to, and desiring him immediately to enter upon the history of his absence. Connor therefore began; and, so successfully and clearly accomplished the narration, that Mr. Corbett often afterwards declared that no actor upon any stage had more completely riveted his attention. But, during the recital of the night scene in the farmhouse in the county of Limerick, Connor observed the good man to be particularly uneasy and impatient: for, more than once he changed colour, looked at his watch; and then, hardly waiting for the conclusion, rang the bell violently, and got up and walked to the door. Then, turning to Connor, he said,

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Why did you not begin with this murder? What have you been about all this time? wretched man! Your fellow-travellers may at this moment be condemned to death. Their trial was to come on this very day."

"The Lord in heaven forbid !" ejaculated Connor.

At this moment the door was opened, when Mr. Corbett desired

that his brown hunter should be immediately saddled, and brought round instantly,-" instantly!" he repeated with fearful emphasis. Then addressing Connor, he asked him whether he had the bit of cloth?

Here it is, fastened with a pin to the

"I have, your honour. inside of my waistcoat." "Then, Connor, I tell you, that if the Almighty be pleased to favour a righteous cause, of which I never despair, you may yet be in time to save the lives of these innocent men; but, that if you delay AN INSTANT upon the road, they are inevitably lost. I have heard of the business, and no one doubts their guilt."

Mr. Corbett then wrote a short letter to the high-sheriff of Limerick, acquainting him that the bearer, Connor O'Meara, was well known to him, that he would vouch for his truth and honesty, and that he had a most important disclosure to make, which in all probability would save the lives of the two prisoners who were to stand their trial for the murder of Mr. Kennedy. He likewise told Connor that his horse would carry him to Limerick in three hours; that he must dismount at a livery-stable which he described, and then run as fast as he could to the court-house, and deliver his letter to the sheriff, who would be in court.

Connor, whose anxiety was quite equal to Mr. Corbett's, if not greater, darted out when he saw the hunter at the door, and was upon his back in a moment, and on his way. Jemmy looked after his father with astonishment; but that good man, Mr. Corbett, soon explained the pressing exigency of the case, and desired him to go home to his mother, and tell her he had no doubt her husband would be back the following evening.

Connor was an excellent horseman; the hunter admirably performed his part of the business; the city of Limerick was successfully gained; and, in less than three hours, the noble steed was seen crossing Thornwood Bridge in full gallop. A few minutes after, and Connor covered with mud, was at the court-house, and crying out to the people to make way. "Make way-make way, poor sowls! I've a letter for the high-sheriff, and must give it into his own hands."

Way therefore was made, and in another instant the sheriff had received and read Mr. Corbett's letter.

The trial of the two farmers who had found shelter that eventful night at the house where the murder had been committed, had commenced some hours before. The prosecutrix was the young widow of the murdered man. She had given her evidence in a clear and very confident manner, and had withstood some severe crossexaminations by two eminent counsel, specially retained, and brought down by the prisoners at a considerable expense.

It appeared also, by the evidence of the young servant girl of the house, that she had been awakened that particular morning by loud screams issuing from the cow-house, where she found her mistress tied up to the posts. That, on cutting the cords, her mistress appeared frantic with despair, and asked her to stop the two men who had murdered her master. That she looked about, but they were gone; and that then her mistress told her to go to the nearest house, and give the alarm.

Several witnesses were examined from the neighbourhood, all of

whom gave evidence that they had found the room where the murder had been committed in great disorder, and the chest of drawers and bureau broken open and rifled. That, having a description of the murderers from the prosecutrix, several young men had pursued and captured them not far from O'Brien's bridge; and that, on bringing them to the house, the widow instantly identified them, and on the same day made her deposition before the coroner, upon whose warrant (he being perfectly satisfied of their guilt,) they were committed to prison in Limerick.

For the defence, the prisoner's counsel were instructed in the first place totally to deny their having been concerned in the murder. Evidence, the most unexceptionable, was produced of their respectability; and that it was not likely they should have stained their hands with blood, and not have participated in the plunder, which must have been considerable; and that, although money was found upon them, the evidence plainly showed that it was precisely the same amount they had taken with them from home, to attend the fair. The servant girl was also obliged, when again examined, to confess that another man had arrived at the house after them, and had quitted it in a mysterious way. He might have done the deed.

It was urged, however, by the prosecution, that nothing had shaken the direct evidence of the widow as to the identity of the two prisoners at the bar. She had sworn to them as the men who had tied her to the posts in the cow-house; and that, with respect to the money, there could hardly be a doubt of their having removed and secreted it somewhere in the neighbourhood; for, it had been too well known that the deceased had received a large sum in gold that day, and very likely these men had seen him receive it, and had followed him home. But, even admitting that the prosecutrix had been mistaken, how was it possible to overcome the remaining part of the evidence, particularly that given so clearly by the witnesses who had compared the footmarks left round the bed and near the bureau, and which so exactly and minutely agreed with the shoes the prisoners wore? and, as if this were not sufficiently conclusive, what would be said of the small articles found in their pockets, and which were known to have belonged to Mr. Kennedy, and could only have been found in his room? Besides, how could they have been in the house, and not cognizant of the murder?

This is, of course, a mere outline; much more must have passed, and probably of deeper interest. The evidence, however, being concluded, the judge, who bore a high reputation for legal acumen, as well as great humanity, had summed up, and declared to the jury that in the course of his long experience on the bench, he had never seen a case which had presented to his mind a train of clearer circumstantial evidence against the prisoners at the bar; but with a recommendation that his own impressions might not bias the minds of the jury, he enjoined their serious and impartial consideration of the evidence given on both sides; and concluded by saying that whatever might be his opinion, he should be much relieved by a solemn record of theirs.

The jury, after nearly an hour's consultation, had returned to their box, and were upon the point of delivering their verdict of GUILTY, and the judge, who in the countenance of the foreman too plainly read the doom of the prisoners, was sitting uneasily upon the bench,