boy groaned aloud, and felt even in the depth of his cell, a blush of momentary shame suffuse his cheek and brow.  His father, notwithstanding the sentence that had been so shortly before passed upon his son—­that father, he perceived to be absolutely intoxicated, or, to use a more appropriate expression, decidedly drunk.  There was less blame, however, to be attached to Fardorougha on this occasion, than Connor imagined.  When the old man swooned in the court-house, he was taken by his neighbors to a public-house, where he lay for some minutes in a state of insensibility.  On his recovery he was plied with burnt whiskey, as well to restore his strength and prevent a relapse, as upon the principle that it would enable him to sustain with more firmness the dreadful and shocking destiny which awaited his son.  Actuated by motives of mistaken kindness, they poured between two and three glasses of this fiery cordial down his throat, which, as he had not taken so much during the lapse of thirty years before, soon reduced the feeble old man to the condition in which we have described him when entering the gloomy cell of the prisoner.

“Father,” said Connor, “in the name of Heaven above, who or what has put you into this dreadful state, especially when we consider the hard, hard fate that is over us, and upon us?”

“Connor,” returned Fardorougha, not perceiving the drift of his question, “Connor, my son, I’ll hang—­hang him, that’s one comfort.”

“Who are you spaking about?”

“The villain sentence was passed on to—­to—­day.  He’ll swing—­swing for the robbery; P——­e will.  We got him back out of that nest of robbers, the Isle o’ Man—­o’ Man they call it—­that he made off to, the villain!”

“Father dear, I’m sorry to see you in this state on sich a day—­sich a black day to us.  For your sake I am.  What will the world say of it?”

“Connor, I’m in great spirits all out, exceptin’ for something that I forget, that—­that—­li—­lies heavy upon me.  That I mayn’t sin, but I am—­I am, indeed—­for now that we’ve cotch him, we’ll hang the villain up.  Ha, ha, ha, it’s a pleasant sight to see sich a fellow danglin’ from a rope!”

“Father, sit down here, sit down here upon this bad and comfortless bed, and keep yourself quiet for a little.  Maybe you’ll get better soon.  Oh, why did you drink, and us in such trouble?”

“I’ll not sit down; I’m very well able to stand,” said he, tottering across the room.  “The villain thought to starve me, Connor, but you heard the sentence that was passed on him to-day.  Where’s Honor, from me? she’ll be glad, whin—­whin she hears it, and my son, Connor, will too—­but he’s, he’s—­where is Connor?—­bring me, bring me to Connor.  Ah, avourneen, Honor’s heart’s breaking for him—­’t any rate, the mother’s heart—­the mother’s heart—­she’s laid low wid an achin’, sorrowful head for her boy.”

“Father, for God’s sake, will you try and rest a little?  If you could sleep, father dear, if you could sleep.”