TIM O'LEARY'S HARE 65 



exclaimed the Squire, pointing to the drag, with a look 

 of disgust. " Is that the quarry we've been running our 

 legs off after for the last two hours ? Timothy, you are a 

 disgrace to your uniform/' 



" An' so he is, your honour," cried the rest of the beaglers 

 in a breath. No sooner were the words uttered than 

 Timothy O'Leary was borne down by a score of his late 

 admirers and boon companions, and, although the veteran 

 fought tooth and nail to save the green coat, it was 

 torn into a hundred pieces, and a strange figure did he 

 cut with his bare arms sticking out beyond several inches 

 of coarse Irish lace and linen. 



" An' it's the illigant shirt you have on to-day, Tim, 

 wid the beautiful lace where the sleeves ought to be," 

 roared one of the rioters. 



" An' it's the illigant lot iv blackguards ye are to tear 

 the coat off the back of the man that learned yez how 

 to lay on the best ' cry iv dogs ' in the conthry," replied 

 Timothy, not too anxious to discuss the subject of his 

 linen. 



" Musha lave off about the coat, Tim, that's past prayin' 

 for; sure, it's the foine shirt we're admirin'." 



" An' if I wasn't a sportsman out and out, d'ye think 

 I'd be afther wearin' the ould 'ooman's ? Didn't I pledge 

 me own to back Joe Murphy's ' Betsy ' for the Long- 

 bally steeplechase ? Och ! you're a disthressin' set o' 

 villains altogether," cried O'Leary, as he stood shivering 

 and abashed at the unexpected exposure of his under- 

 wear. 



O'Leary was made to undergo the further penance 

 of being " chaired " on the shoulders of his fellow hare- 



