'He was, it seems, sitting smoking after dinner, when suddenly two shots
were fired through the windows.'

At this moment a champagne-cork slipped through the butler's fingers and
went off with a bang.

'Oh, goodness me! what's that?' exclaimed Mrs. Gould; and, to pass off
their own fears, everyone was glad to laugh at the old lady. It was not
until Captain Hibbert told that Mr. Macnamara had been so severely
wounded that his life was despaired of, that the chewing faces became
grave again.

'And I hear that Macnamara had the foinest harses in Mathe,' said Mr.
Ryan; 'I very nearly sold him one last year at the harse show.'

Mr. Ryan was the laughing-stock of the country, and a list of the
grotesque sayings he was supposed, on different occasions, to have been
guilty of, was constantly in progress of development. He lived with his
cousin, Mr. Lynch, and, in conjunction, they farmed large tracts of
land. Mr. Ryan was short and thick; Mr. Lynch was taller and larger, and
a pair of mutton-chop whiskers made his bloated face look bigger still.
On either side of the white tablecloth their dirty hands fumbled at
their shirt-studs, that constantly threatened to fall through the worn
buttonholes. They were, nevertheless, received everywhere, and Pathre,
as Mr. Ryan was called by his friends, was permitted the licences that
are usually granted to the buffoon.

'Arrah!' he said, 'I wouldn't moind the lague being hard on them who
lives out of the counthry, spendin' their cash on liquor and theatres in
London; but what can they have agin us who stops at home, mindin' our