The House by the Church-Yard

ment and all the row of village windows were glittering merrily — the sparrows twittered their lively morning gossip among the thick ivy of the old church tower — here a

e Kitty Lane, with her bright young careful face and white basket, were calling at the doors of their customers with new laid eggs. Through half-opened hall doors you might see the powdered serva

ly, statuesque — and his large enthusiastic eyes, suggested a story and a secret — perhaps a horror. Most men, had they known all, would have wondered with good Doctor Walsingham, why, of all places in the world, he should have chosen the little t

ife, but lost in a sad and dreadful reverie, when in bounced little red-faced bustling Dr. Toole — the joke and the chuckle with which he had just requited the fat old

surgeon here; and Tom Larkin said, last night, it’s because they only dabble and quack — and two of a trade, you know — ha! ha! ha! And what a night we had — dark as Erebus — pouring like pumps, by Jove. I’ll remember it, I warrant you. Out on business — a medical man, you know, can’t always choose — and near meeting a bad accident too. Anything in the paper, eh? ho! I see, Sir, haven’t read it. Well, and what do you think — a queer night for the purpose, eh? you’ll say — we had a funeral in the town last night, Sir — some one from Dublin. It was Tressel’s men came out. The turnpike rogue — just round the corner there — one of the talkingest gossips in the town — and a confounded prying, tattling place it is, I can tell you — knows the driver; and Bob Martin, the sexton, you know — tells me there we

e. Dr. Toole paused for nearly a minute, as if ex

h, never caring for Mervyn’

their books and pencils, and scratch away like so many Scotchmen. Ha! ha! ha! If you draw, S

ans

thinking of placing him upon the lord lieutenant’s staff. ‘We’ve capital horses here, if you want to go on to Leixlip,’ (where — this between ourselves and the reader — during the summer months Hi

ll have some ball practice on Palmerstown fair-green today. Sev

ery, a small man, very neatly got up, and with a decidedly Mile

Ha, doctor; how goes it?— anythi

ar. Here’s Lady Moira’s ball: fancy dresses — all Irish; no masks; a numerous appearance of the

e, and the general, and Devere

in an old light-coloured coat, wore a wig. By Jupiter, major, if I was in General Chattesworth’s place, with two hundred strapping fellows at my orders, I’d get a commission from Government to clear that road. It’s too bad, Sir, we can’t go in and out of town, unless in a body, after night-fall, but at the r

versation, cards, backgammon, draughts, and an occasional song by Dr. Toole, who was a florid tenor, and used to give them, ‘While gentlefolks strut in silver and satins,’ or ‘A maiden of late had a merry design,’ or some other such ditty, with a recitation by plump little stage-stricken Ensign Puddock, who, in ‘thpite of hith lithp,’ gave rather spi

between the wooded slopes, which make the valley of the Liffey so pleasant and picturesque, until he reached the ferry, which cr