“Well, then, I have said that them O’Hallaghans lived beside us, and that this stream divided our lands.  About half a quarter—­i. e., to accommodate myself to the vulgar phraseology—­or, to speak more scientifically, one-eighth of a mile from our house was as purty a hazel glen as you’d wish to see, near half a mile long—­its developments and proportions were truly classical.  In the bottom of this glen was a small green island, about twelve yards, diametrically, of Irish admeasurement, that is to say, be the same more or less; at all events, it lay in the way of the river, which, however, ran towards the O’Hallaghan side, and, consequently, the island was our property.

“Now, you’ll observe, that this river had been, for ages, the merin between the two farms, for they both belonged to separate landlords, and so long as it kept the O’Hallighan side of the little peninsula in question there could be no dispute about it, for all was clear.  One wet winter, however, it seemed to change its mind upon the subject; for it wrought and wore away a passage for itself on our side of the island, and by that means took part, as it were, with the O’Hallighans leaving the territory which had been our property for centhries, in their possession.  This was a vexatious change to us, and, indeed, eventually produced very feudal consequences.  No sooner had the stream changed sides, than the O’Hallaghans claimed the island as theirs, according to their tenement; and we, having had it for such length of time in our possession, could not break ourselves of the habitude of occupying it.  They incarcerated our cattle, and we incarcerated theirs.  They summoned us to their landlord, who was a magistrate; and we summoned them to ours, who was another.  The verdicts were north and south.  Their landlord gave it in favor of them, and ours in favor of us.  The one said he had law on his side; the other, that he had proscription and possession, length of time and usage.

“The two squires then fought a challenge upon the head of it, and what was more singular, upon the disputed spot itself; the one standing on their side, the other on ours; for it was just twelve paces every way.  Their friend was a small, light man, with legs like drumsticks; the other was a large, able-bodied gentleman, with a red face and hooked nose.  They exchanged two shots, only one of which—­the second—­took effect.  It pastured upon their landlord’s spindle leg, on which he held it out, exclaiming, that while he lived he would never fight another challenge with his antagonist, ‘because,’ said he, holding out his own spindle shank, ‘the man who could hit that could hit anything.’

[Illustration:  PAGE 725—­ The man who could hit that could hit anything]