Give her a bumper, lads, and I'll give you a chant." "Name! name! name!" shouted several voices from different parts of the table.
"Mary Draper!" said Maurice, filling his glass once more, while the name was re-echoed by every lip at table.
"The song! the song!" "Faith, I hope I haven't forgotten it," quoth Maurice.

"No; here it is." So saying, after a couple of efforts to assure the pitch of his voice, the worthy doctor began the following words to that very popular melody, "Nancy Dawson:"-- MARY DRAPER.
AIR,--_Nancy Dawson_.
Don't talk to me of London dames, Nor rave about your foreign flames, That never lived, except in drames, Nor shone, except on paper; I'll sing you 'bout a girl I knew, Who lived in Ballywhacmacrew, And let me tell you, mighty few Could equal Mary Draper.
Her cheeks were red, her eyes were blue, Her hair was brown of deepest hue, Her foot was small, and neat to view, Her waist was slight and taper; Her voice was music to your ear, A lovely brogue, so rich and clear, Oh, the like I ne'er again shall hear, As from sweet Mary Draper.
She'd ride a wall, she'd drive a team, Or with a fly she'd whip a stream, Or may be sing you "Rousseau's Dream," For nothing could escape her; I've seen her, too,--upon my word,-- At sixty yards bring down her bird, Oh, she charmed all the Forty-third, Did lovely Mary Draper.
And at the spring assizes' ball, The junior bar would one and all For all her fav'rite dances call, And Harry Dean would caper; Lord Clare would then forget his lore; King's Counsel, voting law a bore, Were proud to figure on the floor, For love of Mary Draper.
The parson, priest, sub-sheriff too, Were all her slaves, and so would you, If you had only but one view, Of such a face and shape, or Her pretty ankles--But, ohone, It's only west of old Athlone Such girls were found--and now they're gone-- So here's to Mary Draper! "So here's to Mary Draper!" sang out every voice, in such efforts to catch the tune as pleased the taste of the motley assembly.
"For Mary Draper and Co., I thank you," said Maurice.

"Quill drinks to Dennis," added he, in a grave tone, as he nodded to O'Shaughnessy.

"Yes, Shaugh, few men better than ourselves know these matters; and few have had more experience of the three perils of Irishmen,--love, liquor, and the law of arrest." "It's little the latter has ever troubled my father's son," replied O'Shaughnessy.

"Our family have been writ proof for centuries, and he'd have been a bold man who would have ventured with an original or a true copy within the precincts of Killinahoula." "Your father had a touch of Larry M'Hale in him," said I, "apparently." "Exactly so," replied Dennis; "not but they caught him at last, and a scurvy trick it was and well worthy of him who did it! Yes," said he, with a sigh, "it is only another among the many instances where the better features of our nationality have been used by our enemies as instruments for our destruction; and should we seek for the causes of unhappiness in our wretched country, we should find them rather in our virtues than in our vices, and in the bright rather than in the darker phases of our character." "Metaphysics, by Jove!" cried Quill; "but all true at the same time.