“Ever your devoted worshipper,

“Hycy Burke.

“P.S.—­Beware the clodhopper—­bow wow!—­ho! ho!”

On looking at the back of this singular production he was thunderstruck to perceive that it was addressed to “Mr. Bryan M’Mahon, Ahadarra”—­the fact being that, in the hurry of the moment, he had misdirected the letters—­Bryan M’Mahon having received that which had been intended for Kathleen, who, on the contrary, was pressingly solicited to lend him thirty-fine pounds in order to secure “Crazy Jane.”

Having perused this precious production, Hycy, in spite of his chagrin, was not able to control a most irresistible fit of laughter, in which he indulged for some minutes.  The mistake being now discovered in Bryan’s case was necessarily discovered in that of both, a circumstance which to Hycy, who now fully understood the mature and consequences of his blunder, was, as we have stated, the subject of extraordinary mirth, in which, to tell the truth, Bryan could not prevent himself from joining him.

“Well, but after all, Bryan,” said he, “what is there in this letter to make you angry with me?  Don’t you see it’s a piece of humbug from beginning to end.”

“I do, and I did,” replied Bryan; “but at that time I had never spoken upon the subject of love or marriage to Kathleen Cavanagh, and I had no authority nor right to take any one to task on her account, but, at the same time, I couldn’t even then either like or respect, much less lend money to, any man that could humbug her, or treat such a girl with disrespect—­and in that letther you can’t deny that you did both.”

“I grant,” said Hycy, “that it was a piece of humbug certainly, but not intended to offend her.”

“I’m afraid there was more in it, Hycy,” observed Bryan; “an’ that if she had been foolish or inexperienced enough to meet you or listen to your discourse, it might a’ been worse for herself.  You were mistaken there though.”

“She is not a girl to be humbugged, I grant, Bryan—­very far from it, indeed; and now that you and she understand each other I will go farther for both your sakes, and say, that I regret having written such a letter to such an admirable young woman as she is.  To tell you the truth, Bryan, I shall half envy you the possession of such a wife.”

“As to that,” replied the other, smiling, “we’ll keep never minding—­but you have spoken fairly and honestly on the subject of the letther, an’ I’m thankful to you; still, Hycy, you haven’t answered my first question—­have you any ill feeling against me, or any intention to injure me?”

“Neither one nor the other.  I pledge you my honor and word I have no ill feeling against you, nor any design to injure you.”

“That’s enough, Hycy,” replied his companion; “I think I’m bound to believe your words.”

“You are, Bryan; but will you allow me to ask if any one ever told you that I had—­and if so, who was the person?”