the birds sang so loud amidst the green trees, that I felt more
elated than I had been for months before, and sprang down the avenue
(my uncle had cut down every stick of the trees, by the way) as
brisk as a young fawn. My heart began to thump as I mounted the
grass-grown steps of the terrace, and passed in by the rickety hall-
door. The master and mistress were at church, Mr. Screw the butler
told me (after giving a start back at seeing my altered appearance,
and gaunt lean figure), and so were six of the young ladies.

'Was Miss Nora one?' I asked.

'No, Miss Nora was not one,' said Mr. Screw, assuming a very
puzzled, and yet knowing look.

'Where was she?' To this question he answered, or rather made
believe to answer, with usual Irish ingenuity, and left me to settle
whether she was gone to Kilwangan on the pillion behind her brother,
or whether she and her sister had gone for a walk, or whether she
was ill in her room; and while I was settling this query, Mr. Screw
left me abruptly.

I rushed away to the back court, where the Castle Brady stables
stand, and there I found a dragoon whistling the 'Roast Beef of Old
England,' as he cleaned down a cavalry horse. 'Whose horse, fellow,
is that?' cried I.

'Feller, indeed!' replied the Englishman: 'the horse belongs to my
captain, and he's a better FELLER nor you any day.'

I did not stop to break his bones, as I would on another occasion,