Irish. I am very partial to the Irish traits of character--was once in
Ireland myself--visited an uncle there"--and so forth and so forth.

And thus poor Ralph Emsden, who was only Irish by descent, and could not
have found Ireland on the map were he to hang for his ignorance, and had
been born and bred in the Royal province of South Carolina,--which
country he considered the crown and glory of the world,--was constrained
to listen to all the doings and sayings of Richard Mivane in Ireland
from the time that he embarked on the wild Irish Sea, which scrupled not
to take unprecedented liberties with so untried a sailor, till the
entrance of other pioneers cut short a beguiling account of his first
meeting with potheen in its native haunts, and the bewildering pranks
that he and that tricksy sprite played together in those the
irresponsible days of his youth.

Emsden told no one, not even Peninnah Penelope Anne, of his
discomfiture; but alack, there were youngsters in the family of
unaffected minds and unimpaired hearing. This was made amply manifest a
day or so afterward, when he chanced to pause at the door of the log
cabin and glance in, hoping that, perhaps, the queen of his dreams might
materialize in this humble domicile.

The old gentleman slept in his chair, with dreams of his own, perchance,
for his early life might have furnished a myriad gay fancies for his
later years. The glare of noonday lay on the unshaded spaces of the
quadrangle without; for all trees had been felled, even far around the
inclosure, lest thence they might afford vantage and ambush for musketry
fire or a flight of arrows into the stockade. Through rifts in the
foliage at considerable distance one could see the dark mountain looming
high above, and catch glimpses of the further reaches of the Great Smoky