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 "Go to the devil ye tief—ye don't chate me—ye'll heave no leader o' mine—repent! repent!" said the Cashel-man turning on his heel.

It was in vain that O'Donnell knocked with all his force, and loudly vociferated at the door. The Cashel-man quietly sat down to his uisgebetha; in due time thrust his red pat into his linsey-wolsey nightcap, and went orderly to bed.

O'Donnell repeated his visit to the Cashelman's door with similar success every succeeding market eve for many weeks. At length circumstances occurred that induced him to attend a different mart. He wrote off the value of the hides on the loss side of his ledger, with the word engrossed in large letters on the margin, and in the course of a few months forgot the subject altogether.

But it was not ordained that the matter should rest here. On one of those "dark gloomy days in November," when men instinctively pore over the bad sides of their accounts, Darby's eye fell upon the aforesaid word in his bulky, by-gone ledger. The date was two years old, but the circumstances of the 'robbery' were conjured up by his memory in a moment. He saw the whole details of the matter at once, and—after heartily cursing himself for being such a fool as to put up with so barefaced a cheat—saddled the sorrel nag, and trotted off to Cashel. Formerly he deemed the drubbing which he had inflicted, worth at least half the money; but at this lapse of time it appeared marvelously de-