[4] Saxons--The English.

* * * * *

In the island, the guide importunes Mr. Croker to visit the shelf of a
rock overshadowed by yew, and called the Bed of Honour, "because 'twas
there a lord-lieutenant of Ireland would go to sleep to cool himself
after drinking plenty of whiskey punch." He is cautioned against
venturing too near the ledge of a rock, "the very spot the poor author
gentleman fell from; they called him Hell--Hell--no, 'twasn't Hell,
either, but Hal; oh, then, what a head I have upon me--oh, I have it
now--Hallam's the name, your honour."

"What the author of the Middle Ages?"

"True for you, sir, he was a middle aged man;" "and then there was
another great writing gentleman, one Sir Walter Scott," &c.

Mr. Croker chances to be confined to his hotel by the rainy weather, and
this circumstance introduces the following legend, narrated by one of
his old friends:--

"Well, well," said Lynch, smiling, "I'll give you the legend of Saint
Swithin exactly as it was told to me about a month since--I have
occasionally employed an industrious, poor man, named Tom Doody, to work
in my garden. 'Well, Tom,' said I to him, 'this is Swithin's day, and
not a drop of rain--you see the old saying of "forty days' rain" goes
for nothing.'--'O, but the day isn't over yet,' said Tom, 'so you'd
better not halloo, sir, till you're out of the wood. I'll go bail we'll