walking, there you might be sure was the eternal Sandy. He was a cool, good-humoured, placidfeatured fellow, without much to say for himself; but from his being a general favourite with the ladies, it was presumed that he had hit upon a style of silent eloquence to the full as effective as words. Once, in a party, the buzz of conversation suddenly ceased; yet one soft voice was heard from a corner to say in a demi-whisper, audible to all the room, "Ah, Sandy, don't you be squeezing my hand!" Fourteen pairs of eyes, belonging to as many dowagers, were instantly brought to bear upon the place with the intensity of burning lenses. They went like augers through the scattered furniture by which Miss Donovan and her cousin were partially screened, and traversed with a searching focus every line of space between the pair; but nothing was brought to light save the fair Louisa "looking tranquillity" in an easy chair, with one hand a little over the elbow, and Mr. Casey picking up a fallen book from the floor, his face unruffled as a summer lake. VOL. I. In dress, Sandy Casey was unrivalled. He was the extremity of the extremes of Grafton Street. Were rough over-coats the fashion, he was a biped bear. Were low collars the mode, his was little wider than a hem. Were gaiter-trowsers correct, he merely shewed a patent-leather toe. Of whiskers, nature had as yet withheld more than a reasonable supply; but the summer's growth might be anticipated from the vernal promise, and "mirific balsams" and "incomparable oils" were called upon to foster the incipient forest. No one could have been in Sandy's company ten minutes without hearing of the "grate harss that th' officer bought," or the details of a killing day with the Kildare.” he was Although hating him for his attentions to his dirty dear, Mr. Smith could not but allow that he was a good fellow enough, though a shocking bore. It has been already said that a general favourite with the sex: with the young he was "delightful;" with the elderly," a dear cratur;" and even the most censorious of the fourteen dowagers pronounced him "a foine young man, if possible." But notwithstanding his popularity, he was a shocking nuisance in Harcourt Street; the more so from the doubt that hung over Miss Donovan's preference. He was too well established to be got rid of, and walked about the house a sort of pet lamb of the family; though from certain scarcely perceptible twitches about the mouth of Pat, the teaboy, when inquiries were made about him, Smith shrewdly suspected that doubts were entertained by that functionary whether his lamblike appearance was altogether to be relied upon. With his aunt he had established a character for remarkable modesty and retiring diffidence; and Smith was often an involuntary listener to discussions upon that subject between Mrs. Donovan and her daughter. Mrs. D. Ah, he's a humble lad; sure, he's not like an Irishman at all! It's his modesty, poor cratur, 'll be the ruin of him. What he'll do for employment it's hard to say. Miss D. Don't you think, mamma, he'd rise at the bar? Mrs. D. Oh, the bar! What's the use of putting the poor cratur to the bar, when he can't say bo to a goose, and he so shy? It's he that's the bashful boy! Miss D. Sure he might practise, but not in the coorts? Mrs. D. Is it a chamber-counsel you mane? Ah, he'd never be able for the attornies. Sure, he's too good to be loose. It's his mother he takes after,-poor Milley! Indeed it's Milley Casey that was the pride of Roscommon before she met the Colonel. But what could she do when her husband left her? Ah! that was the bad man The conversation generally dropped when they arrived at the history of Milley Casey. It might be inferred, however, that her adventures had been of a chequered character, and that she had eventually eloped with a fieldofficer, Mr. Casey having previously set her the example. Although Smith's liking for Miss Donovan was not without alloy, yet was it of such a nature that suspense became intolerable, and he at length screwed up his courage to the point of being enlightened on the momentous question whether he or Sandy was the favoured man. "I will call early," thought Smith, “long before that fellow comes abroad. I will catch this pretty sloven at her harp or her drawing, if she ever practises either. I will lead her to talk of this incessant cousin, narrowly watch her smiles and frowns, above all, that dimple, which has more meaning than all the rest of her face, and then be guided by circumstances. I am rather disposed to look at the bright side of this question," quoth Smith complacently, and just turning his eye on the glass; "and yet that was a dashing attempt in the corner, a plucky effort to cut off an outsider of the flotilla, and an able retreat without loss upon discovery under the heavy fire of the dowager battery. But supposing for the sake of argument," thought Smith, "that I were to come off second-best? Bah! the thing's impossible!" The next morning he was early on foot. "Aha! my friend," said Smith triumphantly, as he passed through Stephen's Green, and saw the blinds still down in Sandy's bedroom, "this is a dodge you little suspected! You have to do with an early bird-perhaps another time you may remember the proverb -you little dream of the activity of some people while you are turning your sides and your shoulders and your heavy head.' I feel persuaded that the perusal of that pretty effusion of Mrs. Barbauld's was withheld from you in early youth, or perhaps had never pene |