my long stay, and expecting to see me come home, transformed from a plain blunt Irishman, sure, into a French mounseer, all shrug and frothy compliments, my warm fleecy hosiery exchanged for cambric and silk, and my hat for a chop of brawn."

The general and Miss Fitzallan laughed-aloud.

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Och, botheration!" resumed O'Niel, good-humouredly joining their laugh, "what devil of a blunder have I been after making now?-is not it a chop of brawn they call that little thing the petits maitres squeeze so lovingly under their

arms ?"

"Un chapeau bras, my good friend," replied the general; "in English, a hat for the arm."

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"Why, who the devil," returned O'Niel, except a French jackanapes, ever heard now, or thought of such a ridiculous thing as a hat for the arm? and, tunder and fire! is it from these skipping apes, that Englishmen

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lishmen come to learn elegance and polite ness? Och, by the powers though, it is only returning one compliment for another after all, sure! for many a good time and often, our gallant generals have taught them to dance out of a field of battle: but seriously, and upon my conscience, I think it a monstrous shame for my countrymen to be coming over to France in shoals, to waste and lavish the money upon our enemies, that would be of so much service to the starving creatures in England and Ireland, if it was circulated among them."

"I am exactly of your opinion, my, good friend," replied general Fitzallan, " and I assure you, I am equally weary of the frivolity of these people as you can be, though I believe there are many brave, wise, good, and learned persons in France, and think it would be unjust to censure the nation at large, because we have met with so many puppies in Dieppe, I should have proposed our return to England before this, but on account of madame

de

de Valmont's illness, whom Rosella is so unwilling to quit: indeed I should have been happy to indulge her wish of going with her friend to Italy, would my affairs have permitted me to make one in her suite; but you know, O'Niel, my long ab sence from England, and more than this, the belief that prevails of my death, require that I should, in person, put an end to the designs of lady Clarisford, and prevent her drawing upon herself public odium."

"Och, blessed St. Patrick be praised how!" exclaimed O'Niel, "that you don't `intend going yourself to Italy, nor permit Miss Fitzallan to go-what are all the foreign countries in all the world, sure, compared with England and little Ireland? will any reasonable person take upon himself to affirm that their sour soup, their bully soap, or their soup meagre, is at all to be compared with a good wholesome dish of buttermilk and potatoes?” -The general smiled at the amor patric

of O'Niel, who continued-" Och! sure now, general, for all your laughing, you know it is all true what I am after speaking, for has the army any better soldiers than Irishmen? and the devil of one of them but what was suckled and nourished into stout six-foot high fellows upon buttermilk, and potatoes-och! Erin go bra, say I, for, saving and excepting their burgundy, and their claret, and their brandy, I detest all that belongs to France."

"That," replied the general, " is a sentiment, O'Niel, that does not accord with your usual liberality-there are many good things in France, depend upon it; and ' surely you do not detest Frenchwomen? remember madame de Valmont-"

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Oh, by the powers!" interrupted O'Niel," she is too good to belong to the nation and then there's madame Crillon, and the mamesels Montaignes, seem good sort of girls, only I can't understand their gibberish: the women are a vast deal more agreeable than the men, sure; but,

after

after all, give me botheration! I mean keep me from women, for what signifies their goodness or their prettiness to an old gouty fellow like me?"

Madame de Valmont, who remained in a most pitiable state, seemed roused from her-melancholy stupor by the farewell of Miss Fitzallan; her tears fell in torrents as she clasped her to her heart in convulsive sorrow." We part, my Rosella," said she," and perhaps for ever-alas, my beloved child! we may meet no more in this life!"

Oh, would that I might remain with you!" sobbed Rosella; "gladly, willingly would I resign all the advantages the future can bestow, to watch beside your couch, to smooth your pillow, and console you in your sufferings."

"Sweet, angelic girl!" resumed madame de Valmont," this must not be: general Fitzallan, your brave, excellent father, demands the duteous attention of his Rosella-Go, my child,” continued she, again pressing

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