THREENEHEILA WITHIN DRUM. 27 



As I roved out on a summer morning 



A-speculating most curiously, 



To my surprise I soon espied 



A charming fair one approaching. 



I stood awhile in meditation 



Contemplating what I should do, 



Till at length, recruiting all my sinsations, 



I then accosted the Colleen Rhue. 



When Leum Gow concluded his song he 

 was heartily applauded, but could not be in- 

 duced to attempt a third ballad. We leave 

 the smithy with a regular chorus of friendly 

 wishes sent after us. There is a stewed hare 

 for supper at Threeneheila, and over the sub- 

 sequent rest before the peat-fire another day's 

 campaign is projected. Tom Dwyer is with 

 difficulty prevented from passing sentence of 

 death on Billy the pointer. He is dreadfully 

 ashamed of Billy's behaviour, and protests he 

 never knew the dog to break fence, to run at 

 shot, or to spring the birds before. He was 

 bred from a stock kept up on Threeneheila for 

 fifty years, and is the last of his tribe. His 

 offences, however, have deserved capital punish- 

 ment. " Here, Billy !" roars the master of the 

 Lodge, and Billy enters the room, and, instead 



