You're dead! "said Murphy; "and the coroner's inquest has just sat on you!" "Dead!" cried M'Garry, with a horrified stare. Dead," repeated the doctor solemnly. "Are you not Doctor Growling?" "You see the effect, Mr. Murphy," said the doctor, not noticing M'Garry's question-"you see the effect of the process." "Wonderful!" said Murphy, "Preserve us!" cried the bewildered apothecary." How could I know you if I was dead, doctor? Oh, doctor dear, sure I'm not dead?" "As a herring," said the doctor. "Lord have mercy on me! Oh, Mr. Murphy, sure I'm not dead?" "You're dead, sir," said Murphy; "the doctor has only galvanized you for a few moments." "O Lord!" groaned M'Garry. "Doctor-indeed, doctor?" "You are in a state of temporary animation," said the doctor. "I do feel very odd, indeed," said the terrified man, putting his hands to his throbbing temples. "How long am I dead?" "A week next Tuesday," said the doctor. "Galvanism has preserved you from decomposition." M'Garry uttered a heavy groan, and looked up piteously at his two termentors. Murphy, fearful the shock might drive him out of his mind, said, Perhaps, doctor, you can preserve his life altogether; you have kept him alive so long?" "I'll try," said Growling; "hand me that tumbler." Murphy handed him a tumbler full of water, and the doctor gave it to M'Garry, and desired him to try and drink it. He put it to his lips and swallowed a little drop. "Can you taste it?" asked the doctor. "Isn't it water?" said M'Garry. "You see how dull the nerves are yet," said Growling to Murphy; "that's aquafortis and assafoetida, and he can't taste it. We must give him another touch of the battery. Hold him up, while I go into the next room and immerse the plates." The doctor left the bedroom, and came back with a hot poker and some lemonjuice and water. "Turn him gently round," said he to Murphy, "while I conduct the wires." His order was obeyed; and giving M'Garry a touch of the hot poker, the apothecary roared like a bull. "That did him good," said Growling. "Now try: can you taste anything?" and he gave him the lemon juice and "Don't despair," said the doctor; "I pledge my professional reputation to save you now, since you can stand at all, and your senses partly restored. Let him lie down again; try, could he sleep-" "Sleep!" said M'Garry, with horror; "perhaps never to awaken." "I'll keep up the galvanic influencedon't be afraid: depend upon me-there, lie down. Can you shut your eyes? Yes, I see you can: don't open them so fast. Try, can you keep them shut? Don't open them till I tell you-wait till I count leg of the table. To every effort to disturb him he replied with an imploring grunt, to "let him alone," and he hugged the leg of the table closer, exclaiming; "I won't leave you, Mrs. Fay!-my darling Mrs. Fay! rowl your arms around me, Mrs. Fay!" two hundred and fifty. That's right stir from the floor, where he lay hugging the turn a little more round-keep your eyes fast; that's it. One-two-three-four -five-six-seven;" and so he went on, making a longer interval between every number, till the monotonous sound and the closed eye of the helplessly drunken man produced the effect desired by the doctor; and the heavy snoring of the apothecary soon bore witness that he slept. When the doctor was satisfied that M'Garry was fast asleep, he and Murphy left the room, and locked the door. They were encountered on the lobby by several curious people, who wanted to know, was the man dead?" The doctor shook his head very gravely, and said, "Not quite;" while Murphy, with a serious nod, said, "All over, I am afraid, Mrs. Fay;" for he perceived among the persons on the lobby a servant of O'Grady's, who chanced to be in the town, and was all wonder and fright at the news of his master having committed murder. Murphy and the doctor proceeded to the dinner-room, where they found the drunken men, wrangling about what verdict they should bring in, and a discursive dispute touching on "murder," and "manslaughter," and "accidental death,” and “the visitation of God," mingled with noisy toasts and flowing cups, until any sagacity the company ever possessed was sacrificed to the rosy god. The lateness of the hour, and the state of the company, rendered riding home impossible to most of them, so Mrs. Fay was called upon to prepare beds. The inn did not afford a sufficiency of beds to accommodate every gentleman with a single one, so a toss-up was resorted to, to decide who should sleep double. The fortune of war cast the unfortunate James Reddy upon the doctor, who, though one of the few who were capable of self-protection, preferred remaining at the inn to riding home some miles. Now James Reddy, though very drunk indeed, had sense enough left to dislike the lot that fate had cast him. To sleep with such a slovenly man as the doctor, shocked James, who was a bit of a dandy. The doctor seemed perfectly contented with the arrangement; and as he bade Murphy "good-night," a lurking devilment hung about his huge mouth. All the men staggered off, or were supported to their various beds but one, and he could not "Ah, get up and go to bed, Misther Doyle," said Tim. "Sure the misthress is not here at all." "I know she's not," said Doyle. "Who says a word against her?" "Sure you're talkin' to her yourself, sir." 66 Pooh, pooh, man!-you're drunk." Ah, come to bed, Misther Doyle!" said Tim, in an imploring tone. Och sure, my heart's broke with you." "Don't say your heart's broke, my landlady-my darling Mrs. Fay! the apple of my eye you are.' Nonsense, Misther Doyle." "True as the sun, moon, and stars, Apple of my eye, did I say?-I'd give the apples of my eyes to make sauce for the cockles of your heart. Mrs. Fay, darling, don't be coy. Ha! I have you fast!" and he gripped the table closer. "Well, you are dhrunk, Misther Doyle," said Tim. 'I hope my breath is not offensive from drink, Mrs. Fay," said Doyle, in an amatory whisper to the leg of the table. "Ah, get out o' that, Misther Doyle," said Tim; accompanying the exclamation with a good shake, which somewhat roused the prostrate form. Who's there?" "I want you to come to bed, sir; eh, don't be so foolish, Misther Doyle. Sure you don't think the misthress would be rowlin' on the flure there wid you, as dhrunk as a pig-" "Dare not wound her fame! Who says a word of Mrs. Fay?" 66 Arrah, you're talkin' there about her this half-hour." "False villain! Whisht, my darling," said he to the leg of the table; "I'd never betray you. Hug me tight, Mrs. Fay!" "Bad luck to the care I'll take any more about you," said Tim; "sleep on the flure, if you like." And Doyle was left to pass the night in the soft imaginary. delights of Mrs. Fay's mahogany embraces. How fared it with James Reddy? Alas! poor James was doomed to a night of torment, the effects of which he remembered for many days after. In fact, had James been left to his choice, he would rather have slept with the house-dog than with the doctor; but he dreaded the consequences of letting old Jack perceive his antipathy; and visions of future chastisement from the doctor's satirical tongue awed him into submission to the present punishment. He sneaked into bed, therefore, and his deep potations ensured him immediate sleep, from which he awoke, however, in the middle of the night in torture, from the deep scratches inflicted upon him by every kick of old Growling. At last poor Reddy could stand it no longer, and the earliest hour of dawn revealed him to the doctor putting on his clothes, swearing like a trooper at one moment, and at the next apostrophizing the genius of gentility. "What it is to have to do with a person that is not a gentleman!" he exclaimed, as he pulled on one leg of his trousers. "What is the matter with you?" asked old Jack from one bed. "The matter is, sir, that I am going." "Is it at this hour? Tut, man, don't be a fool. Get into bed again." that the Squire fell into the trap. The note ran as follows: SIR-You must be aware that your act of yesterday has raised a strong feeling in the violation of the law cannot fail to be visited country against you, and that so flagrant a with terrible severity upon you; for, though the condition of the unfortunate man on your position in rank places you far above whom you wreaked your vengeance, you know, sir, that in the eye of the law you are equal, and the shield of justice protects the peasant as well as the prince. Under these circumstances, considering the awful consequences of your ungoverned rage (which, I doubt not, you now deplore) I would suggest to you, by a timely offer of compromise, in the shape of a handsome sum of money-say two hundred pounds-to lull the storm which must otherwise have burst on your devoted head, and save your name from dishonor. I anxiously wait your answer, as proceedings must instantly commence, and the law take its course, unless Mrs. M'Garry can be pacified. "I have the honor to be, sir, "Your most obedient Servant, "MURTOUGH MURPHY. "To Gustavus Granby O'Grady, Esq., "Neck-or-Nothing Hall." O'Grady was thoroughly frightened, and, strange as it may appear, did believe he could compromise for killing only a plebeian; and actually sent Murphy his note of hand for the sum demanded. Murtough posted off to M'Garry; he and his wife received him with shouts of indignation, and heaped reproaches on his head, for the trick he had played on the apothecary. "Never, sir, with you at least. I have seldom slept two in a bed, Dr. Growling, for my gentlemanly habits forbid it; but when circumstances have obliged me, it has been with gentlemen-gentlemen, doctor," and he laid a stress on the word: "gentlemen, sir, who cut their toe-nails. Sir, I am a serious sufferer by your coarse habits; you have scratched me, sir, nearly to death. I am one gore of blood--" "Tut, man! 'twas not my nails scratched you; it was only my spurs I put on going to bed, to keep you at a distance from me; you were so disgustingly drunk, my gentleman!-look there!" and he poked his 'Striped like a tiger!" said M'Garry. leg out of bed, and there, sure enough, "Blacking and pickled cabbage, Misther Reddy saw a spur buckled; and, dumb- Murphy!" said the wife. "Oh, fie, sir. founded at the evidence of the doctor's-I did not think you could be so low." atrocity, he snatched up his clothes and rushed from the room, as from the den of a bear. Murphy twisted a beneficial result to M'Garry out of the night's riotous frolic at his expense; for in the morning, taking advantage of the report of the inquest, which he knew must have reached Neckor-Nothing Hall, he made a communication to O'Grady, so equivocally worded "Oh! Mister M'Garry-never look me in the face again!" said Mrs. M'Garry, who was ugly enough to make the request quite unnecessary; to send my husband home to me a beast!" "Galvanism!" said M'Garry, furiously; "My professional honor wounded!" "Whisht, whisht, man!" said Murphy; "there's a finer plaister than any in your shop for the cure of a wounded honor. Look at that!" and he handed him the note for two hundred: "there's galvanism for you!" "What is this?" said M'Garry, in amazement. "The result of last night's inquest," | The Squire, whose good grace was to open the said Murphy. "You have got your damages without a trial; so pocket your money, and be thankful." The two hundred pounds at once changed the aspect of affairs. M'Garry vowed eternal gratitude, with protestations that Murphy was the cleverest attorney alive, and ought to be Chief Justice. The wife was equally vociferous in her acknowledgments, until Murtough, who, when he entered the house, was near falling a sacrifice to the claws of the apothecary's wife, was obliged to rush from the premises to shun the more terrible consequences of her embraces. THE THIEF AND CORDELIER. [Matthew Prior, poet and diplomatist, was born in 1664. His poems are light and vivacious, and the ease and fluency with which he tells a story adds greatly to its interest. He was Secretary to the English Embassy at the Hague and at the Treaty of Ryswick, and afterwards Under Secretary of State, and Commissioner at the Board of Trade. He died in 1721, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.] Who has e'er been at Paris must needs know the Grève, The fatal retreat of th' unfortunate brave, Where honour and justice most oddly contrib scene, Seem'd not in great haste that the show should begin; Now fitted the halter, now traversed the cart, And often took leave, but was loath to depart. The feast I proposed to you I cannot taste, For this night, by our Order, is mark'd for a fast.' Then turning about to the hangman, he said, Despatch me, I pr'ythee, this troublesome blade; For thy cord and my cord both equally tie, And we live by the gold for which other men die.' MATTHEW PRIOR. THE CONJURER COZENED. What day was best to travaile on, So cunningly he plaid the knave, With shifting, base, and cozening tricks; Amongst a crew of simple gulls, A butcher comes and craves his help, Ten groates he gave him for his fee, With characters, and vocables, And wished himselfe within his shop, At length, out of an old blinde hole, A deville comes with roaring voyce, With squibs and crackers round about Which swaggering Ball, the butcher's dog, That he upon the devill flies And shakes his hornes so sore; He made hobgoblin roare. I HAVE pretty much made up my mind now to run for the Presidency. What the country wants is a candidate who cannot be injured by investigation of his past history, so that the enemies of the party will be unable to rake up against him things that nobody ever heard of before. If you know the most about a candidate, to begin with, every attempt to spring things on him will be checkmated. Now I am going to enter the field with an open record. I am going to own up in advance to all the wickedness I have done, and if any Congressional committee is disposed to prowl around my biography, in the hope of finding any dark and deadly deed which The cunning man cries, "For God's love I have secreted, why let it prowl. help, Unto your mastiffe call!" "Fight dog, fight devill!" butcher said, And claps his hands at Ball. The dog most cruelly tore his flesh, The devill went to wracke, And looked like a tattered rogue, He gets not back againe to hell, VOL. III.-W. H. In the first place I admit that I did tree a rheumatic grandfather of mine in the winter of 1859. He was old and inexpert in climbing trees, but with a heartless brutality that is characteristic of me, I ran him out the front door in his night shirt, at the point of a shotgun, and caused him to bowl up a maple tree, where he remained all night while I emptied shot into his legs. I did this because he snored. I will do it again if I ever have another grandfather who snores. I am as inhuman now as I ever 12 |