like devils. Meantime, the old fellow had reached the furze, and was
going along like fun. Again I tried the porter, and a fit of coughing
came on that lasted five minutes. The pewter was now so hot that the
edge of the quart took away a piece of my mouth at every effort. I
ventured once more, and with the desperation of a madman I threw down the
hot liquid to its last drop. My head reeled--my eyes glared--and my
brain was on fire. I thought I beheld fifty fat gentlemen galloping on
every side of me, and all the sky raining jackets in blue and yellow.
Half mechanically I took the reins, and put spurs to my horse; but before
I got well away, a loud cheer from the crowd assailed me. I turned, and
saw the dun coming in at a floundering gallop, covered with foam, and so
dead blown that neither himself nor the rider could have got twenty yards
farther. The race was, however, won. My odds were lost to every man on
the field, and, worse than all, I was so laughed at, that I could not
venture out in the streets, without hearing allusions to my misfortune;
for a certain friend of mine, one Tom O'Flaherty--"

"Tom of the 11th light dragoons?"

"The same--you know Tom, then? Maybe you have heard him mention me
--Maurice Malone?"

"Not Mr. Malone, of Fort Peak?"

"Bad luck to him. I am as well known in connexion with Fort Peak, as the
Duke is with Waterloo. There is not a part of the globe where he has not
told that confounded story."

As my readers may not possibly be all numbered in Mr. O'Flaherty's
acquaintance, I shall venture to give the anecdote which Mr. Malone