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you'll see that there are exceptions. When Dinah was out av the door (an' 'twas as tho' the sunlight had gone too), 'Mother av Hiven, sergint!' sez I, 'but is that your daughter?' 'I've believed that way these eighteen years,' sez ould Shadd, his eyes twinklin'. 'But Mrs. Shadd has her own opinion, like ivry other woman.' "Tis wid yours this time, for a mericle,' sez Mother Shadd. 'Then why, in the name av fortune, did I never see her before?' sez I. 'Bekaze you've been thraipsin' round wid the married women these three years past. She was a bit av a child till last year, an' she shot up wid the spring,' sez ould Mother Shadd. 'I'll thraipse no more,' sez I. 'D'you mane that?' sez ould Mother Shadd, lookin' at me sideways, like a hen looks at a hawk whin the chickens are runnin' free. "Try me, an' tell,' sez I. Wid that I pulled on my gloves, dhrank off the tea, an' wint out av the house as stiff as at gen'ral p'rade, for well I know that Dinah Shadd's eyes were in the small av my back out av the scullery window. Faith, that was the only time I mourned I was not a cav'lryman, for the sake av the spurs to jingle.

"I wint out to think, an' I did a powerful lot av thinkin', but ut all came round to that shlip av a girl in the dotted blue dhress, wid the blue eyes an' the sparkil in them. Thin I kept off canteen, an' I kept to the married quarthers or near by on the chanst av meetin' Dinah. Did I meet her? Oh, my time past, did I not, wid a lump in my throat as big as my valise, an' my heart goin' like a farrier's forge on a Saturday morning'! 'Twas 'Good-day to ye, Miss Dinah,' an' 'Good-day t'you, corp'ril,' for a week or two, an' divil a bit further could I get, bekaze av the respict I had to that girl that I cud ha' broken betune finger an' thumb."

Here I giggled as I recalled the gigantic figure of Dinah Shadd when she handed me my shirt.

"But I'm speakin' Dinah was a girl that

"Ye may laugh," grunted Mulvaney. the trut', an' 'tis you that are in fault. wud ha' taken the imperiousness out av the Duchess av Clonmel in those days. Flower hand, foot av shod air, an' the eyes av the mornin' she had. That is my wife to-dayould Dinah, an' never aught else than Dinah Shadd to me.

"Twas after three weeks standin' off an' on, an' niver makin' headway excipt through the eyes, that a little drummer-boy grinned in me face whin I had admonished him wid the buckle av my belt for riotin' all over the place. 'An' I'm not the only wan that doesn't kape to barricks,' sez he. I tuk him by the scruff av his neck-my heart was hung on a hair-thrigger those days, you will understand-an', 'Out wid ut,' sez I, 'or I'll lave no bone av you unbruk.' 'Speak to Dempsey,' sez he, howlin'. 'Dempsey which,' sez I, 'ye unwashed limb av Satan?' 'Of the Bobtailed Dhragoons,' sez he. 'He's seen her home from her aunt's house in the civil lines four times this fortnight.' 'Child,' sez I, dhroppin' him, 'your tongue's stronger than your body. Go to your quarters. I'm sorry I dhressed you down.'

"At that I went four ways to wanst huntin' Dempsey. Presintly I found him—an' a tallowy, top-heavy son av a she mule he was, wid his big brass spurs an' his plastrons on his epigastons an' all. But he niver flinched a hair.

"A word wid you, Dempsey,' sez I. 'You've walked wid Dinah Shadd four times this fortnight gone.'

"What's that to you?' sez he. 'I'll walk forty times more, an' forty on top av that, ye shovel-futted, clod-breakin' infantry lance-corp'ril.'

"Before I cud gyard he had his gloved fist home on me cheek, an' down I went full sprawl. 'Will that content you?' sez he, blowin' on his knuckles for all the world like a Scots Grays orf'cer. 'Content?' sez I. 'For your own sake, man, take off your spurs, peel your jackut, and onglove. 'Tis the beginnin' av the overture. Stand up!'

"He stud all he knew, but he niver peeled his jackut, an' his shoulders had no fair play. I was fightin' for Dinah Shadd an' that cut on me cheek. What hope had he forninst me? 'Stand up!' sez I, time an' again, when he was beginnin' to quarter the ground an' gyard high an' go large. 'This isn't ridin'-school,' sez I. 'Oh, man, stand up, an' let me get at ye!' But whin I saw he wud be runnin' about, I grup his shtock in me left an' his waist-belt in me right an' swung him clear to me right front, head undher, he hammerin' me nose till the wind was knocked out av him on the

bare ground. 'Stand up,' sez I, 'or I'll kick your head into your chest.' An' I wud ha' dore ut, too, so ragin' mad I was. "Me collar-bone's bruk,' sez he. Help me back to lines. I'll walk wid her no more.' So I helped him back.

"And was his collar-bone broken?" I asked, for I fancied that only Learoyd could neatly accomplish that terrible throw.

"He pitched on his left shoulder-point. It was. Next day the news was in both barracks; an' whin I met Dinah Shadd wid a cheek like all the reg'mintal tailors' samples, there was no 'Good-mornin', corp'ril,' or aught else. 'An' what have I done, Miss Shadd,' sez I, very bould, plantin' mesilf forninst her, 'that ye should not pass the time of day?' "Ye've half killed rough-rider Dempsey,' sez she, her dear blue eyes fillin' up.

"Maybe,' sez I. 'Was he a friend av yours that saw ye home four times in a fortnight?'

"Yes,' sez she, very bould; but her mouth was down at the corners. 'An'-an' what's that to you?'

"Ask Dempsey,' sez I, purtendin' to go away.

"Did you fight for me then, ye silly man?' she sez, tho' she knew ut all along.

"Who else?' sez I; an' I tuk wan pace to the front. "I wasn't worth ut,' sez she, fingerin' her apron. "That's for me to say,' sez I. 'Shall I say ut?' "Yes,' sez she, in a saint's whisper; an' at that I explained mesilf; an' she tould me what ivry man that is a man, an' many that is a woman, hears wanst in his life.

"But what made ye cry at startin', Dinah darlin'?' sez I. "Your-your bloody cheek,' sez she, duckin' her little head down on my sash (I was duty for the day), an' whimperin' like a sorrowful angel.

"Now a man cud take that two ways. I tuk ut as pleased me best, an' my first kiss wid ut. Mother av Innocence! but I kissed her on the tip av the nose an' undher the eye, an' a girl that lets a kiss come tumbleways like that has never been kissed before. Take note av that, sorr. Thin we wint, hand in hand, to ould Mother Shadd like two little childher, an' she said it was no bad thing; an' ould Shadd nodded behind his pipe, an' Dinah ran away to her own room."

AMERICAN LITERATURE.

PERIOD IV.

VIEW OF RECENT LITERATURE.

[graphic]

MERICA, even yet physically undeveloped, has had few minds of the best quality devoted to literature. The objective activities of pioneering, agriculture, commerce, business, science, have thus far almost monopolized the genius of the

nation. Severely winnowed of chaff, the fruit of our literary effort from the beginning to the present day, is very small; but it may reasonably be pronounced good. The best work of men like Benjamin Franklin, Washington Irving, Edgar Allan Poe, Bryant, Emerson, Longfellow, Hawthorne, Holmes, Lowell (the list might be enlarged), has withstood and will sustain the test of time. But nations, like individuals, must build their house before they adorn it; and our adornment, if choice, has not been copious.

Of books and fugitive writings there has, on the other hand, been a vast supply. It has seemed as if almost everybody wrote. But their product must be called echoes and expansions, not literature. Often commendable in respect of outward technical form, inwardly they are empty. The criterion of true literary development is poetry, and no poetry is being written in America to-day-only interminable rhymes. Our last singing voices are those of Stedman and Stoddard.

The Civil War marked the division between our contemporary and our former literary epochs. The best work of our great writers was then done, and the new writers had not yet

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