Lord Glencore was not better known in that secluded spot, since even in England his name was scarcely heard of. His fortune was very limited, and he had no political influence whatever, not possessing a seat in the upper house; so that, as he spent his life abroad, he was almost totally forgotten in his own country.

All that Debrett could tell of him was comprised in a few lines, recording simply that he was sixth Viscount Glencore and Loughdooner; born in the month of February, 1802, and married in August, 1824, to Clarissa Isabella, second daughter of Sir Guy Clifford, of Wytchley, Baronet; by whom he had issue, Charles Conyngham Massey, born 6th June, 1828. There closed the notice.

Strange and quaint things are these. short biographies, with little beyond the barren fact that "he had lived" and "he had died;" and yet with all the changes of this work-a-day world, with its din, and turmoil, and goldseeking, and "progress," men cannot divest themselves of reverence for birth and blood, and the veneration for high descent remains an instinct of humanity. Sneer, as men will, at "heaven-born legislators," laugh as you may at the "tenth transmitter of a foolish face," there is something eminently impressive in the fact of a position acquired by deeds that date back to centuries, and preserved inviolate to the successor of him who fought at Agincourt or at Cressy. If ever this religion shall be impaired, the fault be on those who have derogated from their great prerogative, and forgotten to make illustrious by example what they have inherited illustrious by descent.

When the news first reached the neighbourhood that a lord was about to take up his residence in the Castle, the most extravagant expectations were conceived of the benefits to arise from such a source. The very humblest already speculated on the advantages his wealth was to diffuse, and the thousand little channels into which his affluence would be directed. The ancient traditions of the place spoke of a time of boundless profusion, when troops of mounted followers used to accompany the old barons, and when the lough itself used to be covered with boats, with the armorial bearings of Glencore floating proudly from their mastheads. There were old men then

living who remembered as many as two hundred labourers being daily employed on the grounds and gardens of the castle; and the most fabulous stories were told of fortunes accumulated by those who were lucky enough to have saved the rich earnings of that golden period.

Coloured as such speculations were with all the imaginative warmth of the west, it was a terrible shock to such sanguine fancies, when they beheld a middle-aged, sad-looking man arrive in a simple post-chaise, accompanied by his son, a child of six or seven years of age, and a single servant — a grim-looking old dragoon corporal, who neither invited intimacy nor rewarded it. It was not, indeed, for a long time that they could believe that this was "my lord," and that this solitary attendant was the whole of that great retinue they had so long been expecting; nor, indeed, could any evidence less strong than Mrs. Mulcahy's, of the Post-office, completely satisfy them on the subject. The address of certain letters and newspapers to the Lord Viscount Glencore was, however, a testimony beyond dispute; so that nothing remained but to revenge themselves on the unconscious author of their selfdeception for the disappointment he gave them. This, it is true, required some ingenuity, for they scarcely ever saw him, nor could they ascertain a single fact of his habits or mode of life.

He never crossed the lough, as the inlet of the sea, about three miles in width, was called. He as rigidly excluded the peasantry from the grounds of the Castle; and, save an old fisherman, who carried his letter-bag to and fro, and a few labourers in the spring and autumn, none ever invaded the forbidden precincts.

Of course, such privacy paid its accustomed penalty; and many an ex planation, of a kind little flattering, was circulated to account for so ungenial an existence. Some alleged that he had committed some heavy crime against the State, and was permitted to pass his life there, on the condition of perpetual imprisonment; others, that his wife had deserted him, and that in his forlorn condition he had sought out a spot to live and die in, unnoticed and unknown; a few ascribed his solitude to debt'; while others were divided in opinion between charges of

misanthropy and avarice-to either of which accusations his lonely and simple life fully exposed him.

In time, however, people grew tired of repeating stories to which no new evidence added any features of interest. They lost the zest for a scandal which ceased to astonish, and " my lord" was as much forgotten, and his existence as unspoken of, as though the old towers had once again become the home of the owl and the jackdaw.

It was now about eight years since "the lord" had taken up his abode at the Castle, when one evening, a raw and gusty night of December, the little skiff of the fisherman was seen standing in for shore-a sight somewhat uncommon, since she always crossed the loch in time for the morning's mail.

"There's another man aboard, too," said a by-stander from the little group that watched the boat, as she neared the harbour; "I think it's Mr. Craggs."

"You're right enough, Sam- it's the corporal; I know his cap, and the short tail of hair he wears under it. What can bring him at this time o' night?"

"He's going to bespeak a quarter of Tim Healey's beef, maybe," said one, with a grin of malicious drollery.

"Mayhap it's askin' us all to spend the Christmas he'd be," said another.

"Whisht! or he'll hear you," muttered a third; and at the same instant the sail came clattering down, and the boat glided swiftly past, and entered a little natural creek close beneath where they stood.

"Who has got a horse and a jaunting-car?" cried the Corporal, as he jumped on shore. "I want one for Clifden directly."

"It's fifteen miles divil a less," cried one.

"Fifteen! no, but eighteen! Kiely's bridge is bruck down, and you'll have to go by Gortnamuck."

"Well, and if he has, can't he take the cut?"

"He can't."

"Why not? Didn't I go that way last week?"

"Well, and if you did, didn't you lame your baste ?"

""I'wasn't the cut did it."

"It was sure I know better-Billy Moore tould me."

"Billy's a liar !"

Such and such like comments and

contradictions were very rapidly exchanged, and already the debate was waxing warm, when Mr. Craggs' authoritative voice interposed with

"Billy Moore be blowed! I want to know if I can have a car and horse?"

"To be sure! why not?- who says you can't?" chimed in a chorus.

"If you go to Clifden under five hours, my name isn't Terry Lynch," said an old man in rabbitskin breeches.

"I'll engage, if Barny will give me the blind mare, to drive him there under four."

"Bother!" said the rabbitskin, in a tone of contempt.

"But where's the horse?" cried the corporal.

66

Ay, that's it," said another, "where's the horse?"

"Is there none to be found in the village?" asked Craggs, eagerly.

"Divil a horse barrin' an ass. Barny's mare has the staggers the last fortnight, and Mrs. Kyle's pony broke his two knees on Tuesday, carrying sea-weed up the rocks."

"But I must go to Clifden; I must be there to-night," said Craggs.

"It's on foot, then, you'll have to do it," said the rabbitskin.

"Lord Glencore's dangerously ill, and needs a doctor," said the Corporal, bursting out with a piece of most uncommon communicativeness. "Is there none of you will give his horse for such an errand ?"

"Arrah, musha!-it's a pity!" and such-like expressions of passionate import, were muttered on all sides; but no more active movement seemed to flow from the condolence, while in a lower tone were added such expressions as, "Sorra mend him if he wasn't a naygar, wouldn't he have a horse of his own? It's a droll lord he is, to be begging the loan of a baste!"

Something like a malediction arose to the Corporal's lips; but restraining it, and with a voice thick from passion, he said

"I'm ready to pay you to pay you ten times over the worth of your

"You needn't curse the horse, anyhow," interposed Rabbitskin, while, with a significant glance at his friends around him, he slyly intimated that it would be as well to adjourn the debate -a motion as quickly obeyed as it was mooted; for in less than five minutes Craggs was standing beside the quay,

with no other companion than a blind beggarwoman, who, perfectly regardless of his distress, continued energetically to draw attention to her own.

"A little fippenny bit, my lordthe laste trifle your honour's glory has in the corner of your pocket, that you'll never miss, but that'll sweeten ould Molly's tay to-night? There, acushla, have pity on the dark, and that you may see glory."

But Craggs did not wait for the remainder, but, deep in his own thoughts, sauntered down towards the village. Already had the others retreated within their homes; and now all was dark and cheerless along the little straggling street.

"And this is a Christian country !— this a land that people tell you abounds in kindness and good-nature !" said he, in an accent of sarcastic bitterness.

"And who'll say the reverse?" answered a voice from behind; and turning, he beheld the little hunch-backed fellow who carried the mail on foot from Oughterard, a distance of sixteen miles, over a mountain, and who was popularly known as "Billy the Bag," from the little leather sack, which seemed to form part of his attire. "Who'll stand up and tell me it's not a fine country in every sinsefor natural beauties, for antiquities, for elegant men and lovely females, for quarries of marble and mines of gould?"

Craggs looked contemptuously at the figure who thus declaimed of Ireland's wealth and grandeur, and, in a sneering tone, said

"And with such riches on every side, why do you go bare-foot-why are you in rags, my old fellow?"

"Isn't there poor everywhere? If the world was all gould and silver, what would be the precious metals— tell me that? Is it because there's a little cripple like myself here, that them mountains yonder isn't of copper, and iron, and cobalt? Come over with me after I lave the bags at the office, and I'll show you bits of every one I speak of."

"I'd rather you'd show me a doctor, my worthy fellow," said Craggs, sighing.

"I'm the nearest thing to that same going," replied Billy. "I can breathe a vein against any man in the barony. I can't say, that for an articular congestion of the aortic valves, or for a sero-pulmonic diathesis-d'ye mind? that there isn't as good as me; but for

the ould school of physic, the humoral diagnostic, who can beat me?"

"Will you come with me across the lough, and see my lord, then?" said Craggs, who was glad even of such aid in his emergency.

"And why not, when I lave the bags?" said Billy, touching the leather sack as he spoke.

If the Corporal was not without his misgivings as to the skill and competence of his companion, there was something in the fluent volubility of the little fellow that overawed and impressed him, while his words were uttered in a rich mellow voice, that gave them a sort of solemn persuasive

ness.

"Were you always on the road?” asked the Corporal, curious to learn some particulars of his history.

"No sir; I was twenty things before I took to the bags. I was a poor scholar for four years; I kept school in Erris; I was 'on' the ferry in Dublin with my fiddle for eighteen months; and I was a bear in Liverpool for part of a winter."

"A bear!" exclaimed Craggs.

"Yes, sir. It was an Italian-one Pipo Chiassi by name-that lost his beast at Manchester, and persuaded me, as I was about the same stature, to don the sable, and perform in his place. After that I took to writin' for the papersThe Skibbereen Celt-and supported myself very well till it broke. But here we are at the office, so I'll step in, and get my fiddle, too, if you've no objection."

The Corporal's meditations scarcely were of a kind to reassure him, as he thought over the versatile character of his new friend; but the case offered no alternative-it was Billy or nothing --since to reach Clifden on foot would be the labour of many hours, and in the interval his master should be left utterly alone. While he was thus musing, Billy reappeared, with a violin under one arm, and a much-worn quarto under the other.

"This," said he, touching the volume, is the Whole Art and Mystery of Physic,' by one Falrecein, of Aquapendante; and if we don't find a cure for the case down here, take my word for it, it's among the morba ignota, as Paracelsas says.

"Well, come along," said Craggs, impatiently; and set off at a speed that, notwithstanding Billy's habits of foottravel, kept him at a sharp trot. A

few minutes more saw them, with canvas spread, skimming across the lough, towards Glencore.

"Glencore - Glencore!" muttered Billy once or twice to himself, as the swift boat bounded through the hissing surf. "Did you ever hear Lady Lucy's Lament?" And he struck a few chords with his fingers as he spoke

"I care not for yon trelliced vine;

I love the dark woods on the shore,
Nor all the towers along the Rhine

Are dear to me as old Glencore. The rugged cliff, Ben-Creggan high, Re-echoing the Atlantic roar, And mingling with the seagull's cry My welcome back to old Glencore." "And then there's a chorus." "That's a signal to us to make haste," said the Corporal, pointing to a bright flame, which suddenly shot up on the shore of the lough. "Put out an oar to leeward there, and keep her up to the wind."

And Billy, perceiving his minstrelsy unattended to, consoled himself by humming over, for his own amusement, the remainder of his ballad.

The wind freshened as the night grew darker, and heavy seas repeatedly broke on the bow, and swept over the boat in sprayey showers.

"It's that confounded song of yours has got the wind up," said Craggs, angrily; "stand by that sheet, and stop your croning!"

"That's an error vulgaris, attributin' to music marine disasters," said Billy, calmly; it arose out of a mis

take about one Orpheus."

"Slack off there!" cried Craggs, as a squall struck the boat, and laid her almost over.

Billy, however, had obeyed the mandate promptly, and she soon righted, and held on her course.

"I wish they'd show the light again on shore," muttered the Corporal; "the night is black as pitch."

Keep the top of the mountain a little to windward, and you're all right," said Billy. "I know the lough well; I used to come here all hours, day and night, once, spearing salmon.”

"And smuggling, too!" added Craggs."

"Yes, sir; brandy, and tay, and pigtail, for Mister Sheares, in Oughterard."

"What became of him ?" asked Craggs.

"He made a fortune and died, and his son married a lady!"

"Here comes another; throw her head up in the wind," cried Craggs.

This time the order came too late; for the squall struck her with the suddenness of a shot, and she canted over till her keel lay out of water, and, when she righted, it was with the white surf boiling over her.

"She's a good boat, then, to stand that," said Billy, as he struck a light for his pipe, with all the coolness of one perfectly at his ease; and Craggs, from that very moment conceived a favourable opinion of the little hunchback.

"Now we're in the smooth water, Corporal," cried Billy; "let her go a little free."

And, obedient to the advice, he ran the boat swiftly along till she entered a small creek, so sheltered by the high lands that the water within was still as a mountain lake.

"You never made the passage on a worse night, I'll be bound," said Craggs, as he sprang on shore.

"Indeed and I did, then," replied Billy. "I remember it was two days before Christmas we were blown out to say in a small boat, not more than the half of this, and we only made the west side of Arran Island after thirtysix hours' beating and tacking. I wrote an account of it for The Tyrawly Regenerator, commencing with

"The elemential conflict that with tremendious violence raged, ravaged, and ruined the adamantine foundations of our western coast, on Tuesday, the 23rd of December

Come along, come along," said Craggs; "we've something else to think of."

And with this admonition, very curtly bestowed, he stepped out briskly on the path towards Glencore.

GLENCORE

WHEN the Corporal, followed by Billy, entered the gloomy hall of the castle, they found two or three country people

CASTLE.

conversing in a low but eager voice together, who speedily turned towards them, to learn if the doctor had come.

"Here's all I could get in the way of a doctor," said Craggs, pushing Billy towards them as he spoke.

"Faix, and ye might have got worse," muttered a very old man ; "Billy Traynor has the lucky hand.'

"How is my lord, now, Nelly?" asked the Corporal of a woman who, with bare feet, and dressed in the humblest fashion of the peasantry, now appeared.

"He's getting weaker and weaker, sir; I believe he's sinking. I'm glad it's Billy is come; I'd rather see him than all the doctors in the country.

"Follow me," said Craggs, giving a signal to step lightly. And he led the way up a narrow stone stair, with a wall on either hand. Traversing a long, low corridor, they reached a door, at which having waited for a second or two to listen, Craggs turned the handle and entered, The room was very large and lofty, and, seen in the dim light of a small lamp upon the hearthstone, seemed even more spacious than it was. The oaken floor was uncarpeted, and a very few articles of furniture occupied the walls. In one corner stood a large bed, the heavy curtains of which had been gathered up on the roof, the better to admit air to the sick

man.

As Billy drew nigh with cautious steps he perceived that, although worn and wasted by long illness, the patient was still a man in the very prime of life. His dark hair and beard, which he wore long, were untinged with grey, and his forehead showed no touch of age. His dark eyes were wide open, and his lips slightly parted, his whole features exhibiting an expression of energetic action, even to wildness. Still he was sleeping; and, as Craggs whispered, he seldom slept otherwise, even when in health. With all the quietness of a trained practitioner, Billy took down the watch that was pinned to the curtain and proceeded to count the pulse.

"A hundred and thirty-eight," muttered he, as he finished; and then gently displacing the bedclothes, laid his hand upon the heart.

With a long-drawn sigh, like that of utter weariness, the sick man moved his head round and fixed his eyes upon him.

"The doctor!" said he, in a deeptoned but feeble voice. "Leave me, Craggs-leave me alone with him.”

And the Corporal slowly retired,

turning as he went to look back towards the bed, and evidently going with reluctance.

"Is it fever?" asked the sick man, in a faint but unfaltering accent.

"It's a kind of cerebral congestion -a matter of them membranes that's over the brain, with, of course, febrilis generalis."

The accentuation of these words, marked as it was by the strongest provincialism of the peasant, attracted the sick man's attention, and he bent upon him a look at once searching and severe. "What are you-who are you?" cried he, angrily.

"What I am isn't so aisy to say; but who I am is clean beyond me.' "Are you a doctor?" asked the sick man, fiercely.

"I'm afeared I'm not, in the sense of a gradum universatalis—a diplomia ; but sure maybe Paracelsus himself just took to it, like me, having a vocation, as one might say.'

"Ring that bell," said the other, peremptorily.

And Billy obeyed without speaking. "What do you mean by this Craggs?" said the Viscount, trembling with passion? "Who have you brought me? What beggar have you picked off the highway? Or is he the travelling fool of the district?"

But the anger that supplied strength hitherto now failed to impart energy, and he sunk back, wasted and exhausted. The Corporal bent over him, and spoke something in a low whisper, but whether the words were heard or not, the sick man now lay still, breathing heavily.

"Can you do nothing for him?" asked Craggs, peevishly"Nothing but anger him?"

"To be sure I can if you let me," said Billy, producing a very ancient lancet-case of box-wood tipped with ivory. "I'll just take a dash of blood from the temporial artery, to releave the cerebrum, and then we'll put cowld on his head, and keep him quiet."

And with a promptitude that showed at least self-confidence, he proceeded to accomplish the operation, every step of which he effected skilfully and well.

"There now," said he, feeling the pulse, as the blood continued to flow freely. The circulation is relieved already; it's the same as opening a sluice in a mill-dam. He's better already."