yond the hope of imitation. On the contrary, most people will comfort and bless themselves with the reflection, that they never were quite so foolish; nor quite so bad, as Harry Ormond.

For the advantage of those who may wish to institute the comparison, his biographer, in writing the life of Ormond, deems it a point of honour to extenuate nothing; but to trace, with an impartial hand, not only every improvement and advance, but every deviation or retrograde movement.

CHAPTER IV.

FULL of sudden zeal for his own improvement, Ormond sat down at the foot of a tree, determined to make a list of all his faults, and of all his good resolutions for the future. He took out his pencil, and began on the back of a letter the following resolutions, in a sad scrawling hand and incorrect style.

HARRY ORMOND'S GOOD RESOLUTIONS. Resolved 1st.-That I will never drink more than (blank number of) glasses.

Resolved 2dly. That I will cure myself of being passionate.

Resolved 3dly.-That I will never keep low company.

Resolved. That I am too fond of flattery-women's, especially, I like most. To cure myself of

that.

Here he was interrupted by the sight of a little gossoon, with a short stick tucked under his arm, who

came pattering on barefoot in a kind of pace indescribable to those who have never seen it—it was something as like walking or running as chanting is to saying or singing.

"The answer I am from the Black Islands, master Harry; and would have been back wid you afore nightfall yesterday, only he-king Corny-was at the fair of Frisky-could not write till this morning any way--but has his service to ye, master Harry, will be in it for ye by half after two with a bed and blanket for Moriarty, he bid me say on account he forgot to put it in the note. In the Sally Cove the boat will be there abow in the big lough, forenent the spot where the fir dale was cut last seraph by them rogues."

The despatch from the king of the Black Islands was then produced from the messenger's bosom, and it ran as follows:

"Dear Harry. What the mischief has come over cousin Ulick to be banishing you from Castle Hermitage? But since he conformed, he was never the same man, especially since his last mis-marriage. But no use moralising-he was always too much of a courtier for me. Come you to me, my dear boy, who is no courtier, and you'll be received and embraced with open arms-was I Briareus the same wayBring Moriarty Carroll (if that's his name), the boy you shot, which has given you so much concern-for which I like you the better-and honour that boy, who, living or dying, forbade to prosecute. Don't be surprised to see the roof the way it is:-since Tuesday I wedged it up bodily without stirring a stick: -you'll see it from the boat, standing three foot

high above the walls, waiting while I'm building up to it-to get attics-which I shall for next to nothing -by my own contrivance. Meantime, good dry lodg ing, as usual, for all friends at the palace. He shall be well tended for you by Sheelah Dunshaughlin, the mother of Betty, worth a hundred of her! and we'll soon set him up again with the help of such a nurse, as well as ever, I'll engage; for I'm a bit of a doctor, you know, as well as every thing else. But don't let any other doctor, surgeon, or apothecary, be coming after him. for your life-for none ever gets a permit to land, to my knowledge, on the Black Islands-to which I attribute, under Providence, to say nothing of my own skill in practice, the wonderful preservation of my people in health-that, and woodsorrel, and another secret or two not to be committed to paper in a hurry -all which I would not have written to you, but am in the gout since four this morning, held by the foot fast-else I'd not be writing, but would have gone every inch of the way for you myself in style, in lieu of sending, which is all I can now do, my six-oared boat, streamers flying, and piper playing like mad— for I would not have you be coming like a banished man, but in all glory to Cornelius O'Shane, commonly called king Corny-but no king to you, only your hearty old friend."

"Heaven bless Cornelius O'Shane!" said Harry Ormond to himself, as he finished this letter. " King or no king, the most warm-hearted man on earth, let the other be who he will."

Then pressing this letter to his heart, he put it up carefully, and rising in haste, he dropped the list of his faults. That train of associations was com

pletely broken, and for the present completely forgotten; nor was it likely to be soon renewed at the Black Islands, especially in the palace, where he was now going to take up his residence. Moriarty was laid on-what he never was laid on before-a featherbed; and was transported, with Ormond, in the sixoared boat, streamers flying, and piper playing, across the lake to the islands. Moriarty's head ached terribly, but he nevertheless enjoyed the playing of the pipes in his ear, because of the air of triumph it gave master Harry, to go away in this grandeur, in the face of the country. King Corny ordered the discharge of twelve guns on his landing, which popped one after another gloriously-the hospitable echoes, as Moriarty called them, repeating the sound. A horse, decked with ribands, waited on the shore, with king Corny's compliments for prince Harry, as the boy, who held the stirrup for Ormond to mount, said he was instructed to call him, and to proclaim him "Prince Harry" throughout the island, which he did by sound of horn, the whole way they proceeded to the palace-very much to the annoyance of the horse, but all for the greater glory of the prince, who managed his steed to the admiration of the shouting ragged multitude, and of his majesty who sat in state in his gouty chair at the palace door. He had had himself rolled out to welcome the coming guest.

"By all that's princely," cried he, "then, that young Harry Ormond was intended for a prince, he sits a horse so like myself; and that horse requires a master hand to manage him."

Ormond alighted.

The gracious, cordial, fatherly welcome, with which he was received, delighted his heart.

"Welcome, prince, my adopted son, welcome to Corny castle-palace, I would have said, only for the constituted authorities of the post-office, that might take exceptions, and not be sending me my letters right. As I am neither bishop nor arch, I have in their blind eyes or conceptions no right-Lord help them!-to a temporal palace. Be that as it may, come you in with me, here into the big room—and see! there's the bed in the corner for your first object, my boy-your wounded chap; and I'll visit his wound, and fix it and him the first thing for ye, the minute he comes up."

His majesty pointed to a bed in the corner of a large apartment, whose beautiful painted ceiling and cornice, and fine chimney-piece with caryatides of white marble, ill accorded with the heaps of oats and corn, the thrashing cloth and flail, which lay on the floor.

"It is intended for a drawing-room, understand,” said king Corny; "but till it is finished, I use it for a granary or a barn, when it would not be a barrack-room or hospital, which last is most useful at present."

To this hospital Moriarty was carefully conveyed. Here, notwithstanding his gout, which affected only his feet, king Corny dressed Moriarty's wound with exquisite tenderness and skill; for he had actually acquired knowledge and address in many arts, with which none could have suspected him to have been in the least acquainted.

Dinner was soon announced, which was served up with such a strange mixture of profusion and carelessness, as showed that the attendants, who were numerous and ill caparisoned, were not much used