Poor Tom's spirits were rather below their usual pitch; and although he
made many efforts to rally and appear gay, he could not accomplish it.
However, we chatted away over old times and old friends, and forgetting
all else but the topics we talked of, the time-piece over the chimney
first apprised me that two whole hours had gone by, and that it was now
seven o'clock, the very hour the coach was to start. I started up at
once, and notwithstanding all Tom's representations of the impossibility
of my being in time, had despatched waiters in different directions for a
jarvey, more than ever determined upon going; so often is it that when
real reasons for our conduct are wanting, any casual or chance opposition
confirms us in an intention which before was but uncertain. Seeing me so
resolved, Tom, at length, gave way, and advised my pursuing the mail,
which must be now gone at least ten minutes, and which, with smart
driving, I should probably overtake before getting free of the city, as
they have usually many delays in so doing. I at once ordered out the
"yellow post-chaise," and before many minutes had elapsed, what, with
imprecation and bribery, I started in pursuit of his Majesty's Cork and
Kilkenny mail coach, then patiently waiting in the court-yard of the Post
Office.

"Which way now, your honor?" said a shrill voice from the dark--for such
the night had already become, and threatened with a few heavy drops of
straight rain, the fall of a tremendous shower.

"The Naas road," said I; "and, harkye, my fine fellow, if you overtake
the coach in half an hour, I'll double your fare."

"Be gorra, I'll do my endayvour," said the youth; at the same time
instant dashing in both spurs, we rattled down Nassau-street at a very