One night, when Billy Mac Daniel met the little man as usual in the Fort-field, and was going to the bog to fetch the horses for their journey, his master said to him, “Billy, I shall want another horse to-night, for may be we may bring back more company with us than we take." So Billy, who now knew better than to question any order given to him by his master, brought a third rush, much wondering who it might be that would travel back in their company, and whether he was about to have a fellow-servant. "If I have," thought Billy," he shall go and fetch the horses from the bog every night; for I don't see why I am not, every inch of me, as good a gentleman as my master."

Well, away they went, Billy leading the third horse, and never stopped until they came to a snug farmer's house in the county of Limerick, close under the old castle of Carrigogunniel, that was built, they say, by the great Brian Boru. Within the house there was great carousing going forward; and the little man stopped outside for some time to listen; then, turning round all of a sudden, he said, "Billy, I will be a thousand years old to-morrow."

"God bless us! sir," said Billy, "will you?" "Don't say these words again," said the little man, “or you will be my ruin forever. Now, Billy, as I will be a thousand years in the world to-morrow, I think it is full

time for me to get married."

"I think so too, without any kind of doubt at all,” said Billy, "if ever you mean to marry."

"And to that purpose," said the little man, "have I come all the way to Carrigogunniel; for in this house, this very night, is young Darby Riley going to be married to Bridget Rooney; and as she is a tall and comely girl, and has come of decent people, I think of marrying her myself, and taking her off with me."

"And what will Darby Riley say to that?" said Billy.

"Silence!" said the little man, putting on a mighty severe look; "I did not bring you here with me to ask questions;" and, without holding further argument, he began saying the queer words which had the power of passing him through the keyhole as free as air, and which Billy thought himself mighty clever to be able to say after him.

In they both went; and, for the better viewing the company, the little man perched himself up, as nimbly as a cock-sparrow, upon one of the big beams which went across the house over all their heads, and Billy did the same upon another facing him; but not being much accustomed to roosting in such a place, his legs hung down as untidy as may be; and it was quite clear he had not taken pattern after the way in which the little man had bundled himself up together. If the little man had been a tailor all his life, he could not have sat more contentedly upon his haunches.

There they were, both master and man, looking down upon the fun that was going forward; and under them were the priest and piper, and the father of Darby Riley, with Darby's two brothers and his uncle's son; and there were both the father and the mother of Bridget Rooney,and proud enough the old couple were that night of their daughter, as good right they had,-and her four sisters, with bran new ribands in their caps, and her three brothers, all looking as clean and as clever as any three boys in Munster; and there were uncles and aunts, and gossips and cousins, enough, besides, to make a full house of it; and plenty was there to eat and drink on the table for every one of them, if they had been double the number.

Now it happened, just as Mrs. Rooney had helped his reverence to the first cut of the pig's head which was placed before her, beautifully bolstered up with white savoys, that the bride gave a sneeze which made every one at table start; but not a soul said "God bless us." All thinking that the priest would have done so, as he ought,

if he had done his duty, no one wished to take tne word out of his mouth, which, unfortunately, was preoccupied with pig's head and greens. And, after a moment's pause, the fun and merriment of the bridal feast went on without the pious benediction.

Of this circumstance both Billy and his master were no inattentive spectators from their exalted stations. "Ha!" exclaimed the little man, throwing one leg from under him with a joyous flourish; and his eye twinkled with a strange light, whilst his eyebrows became elevated into the curvature of Gothic arches-"Ha!" said he, leering down at the bride, and then up at Billy, "I have half of her now, surely. Let her sneeze but twice more, and she is mine, in spite of priest, mass-book, and Darby Riley."

Again the fair Bridget sneezed; but it was so gently, and she blushed so much, that few, except the little man, took, or seemed to take, any notice; and no one thought of saying "God bless us."

Billy all this time regarded the poor girl with a most rueful expression of countenance; for he could not help thinking what a terrible thing it was for a nice young girl of nineteen, with large blue eyes, transparent skin, dimpled cheeks, suffused with health and joy, to be obliged to marry an ugly little bit of a man, who was a thousand years old, barring a day.

At this critical moment, the bride gave a third sneeze, and Billy roared out with all his might, "God bless us!" Whether this exclamation resulted from his soliloquy, or from the mere force of habit, he never could tell exactly himself; but no sooner was it uttered, than the little man, his face glowing with rage and disappointment, sprung from the beam on which he had perched himself, and, shrieking out in the shrill voice of a cracked bagpipe, “I discharge you my service, Billy Mac Daniel-take that for your wages"-gave poor Billy a most furious kick in the

back, which sent his unfortunate servant sprawling upon his face and hands right in the middle of the supper table.

If Billy was astonished, how much more so was every one of the company into which he was thrown with so little ceremony! but when they heard his story, father Cooney laid down his knife and fork, and married the young couple out of hand with all speed; and Billy Mac Daniel danced the Rinka at their wedding; and plenty did he drink at it too, which was what he thought more of than dancing.

CROKER

THE VENETIAN GIRL.

THE sun was shining beautifully one summer evening, as if he bade a sparkling farewell to a world which he had made happy. It seemed also by his looks as if he promised to make his appearance again to-morrow; but there was, at times, a deep-breathing western wind; and dark purple clouds came up here and there, like gorgeous waiters on a funeral. The children in a village not far from the metropolis were playing, however, on the green, content with the brightness of the moment, when they saw a female approaching, who instantly gathered them about her by the singularity of her dress. It was not very extraordinary ; but any difference from the usual apparel of their countrywomen appeared so to them; and crying out, A French girl, a French girl!" they ran up to her, and stood looking and talking. She seated herself upon a bench that was fixed between two elms, and for a moment leaned her head against one of them, as if faint with walking. But she raised it speedily, and smiled with great complacence on the rude urchins. She had a bodice and petticoat on

of different colors, and a handkerchief tied neatly about her head with the point behind. On her hands were gloves without fingers; and she wore about her neck a guitar, upon the strings of which one of her hands rested. The children thought her very handsome. Any one else would also have thought her very ill; but they saw nothing in her but a good-natured looking foreigner and a guitar, and they asked her to play. "Oh che bei ragazzi!” said she, in a soft and almost inaudible voice ;-" Che visi lieti!"* and she began to play. her voice failed her, and she saying, "Stanca! Stanca!"† Sing, do sing," said the children; and, nodding her head, she was trying to do so, when a set of schoolboys came up and joined in the request.

56

She tried to sing, too; but shook her head smilingly,

66

No, no," said one of the elder boys, "she is not well. You are ill, a'n't you,-miss?" added he, laying his hand upon hers, as if to hinder it. He drew out the last word somewhat doubtfully, for her appearance perplexed him; he scarcely knew whether to take her for a common stroller, or a lady straying from a sick bed. "Grazie!" said she, understanding his look; troppo stanca; troppo."‡ By this time the usher came up, and addressed her in French; but she only understood a word here and there. He then spoke Latin, and she repeated one or two of his words, as if they were familiar to her. "She is an Italian," said he, looking round with good-natured importance. "Non dubito," continued the usher, "quin tu lectitas poëtam illum celeberrimum, Tassonem; § Taxum I should say, properly, but the departure from the Italian name is considerable." The stranger did not understand a word. "I speak of Tasso," said the usher—“ of Tas"Tasso! Tasso!" repeated the fair minstrel; "oh

so."

* O what fine boys! What happy faces!

+ Weary! Weary!

Thanks ;-too weary! too weary!

§ Doubtless you read that celebrated poet Tasso.