I am old," she replied, "but I shall live to see out the guilty race of you all." "Go to the devil, you croaking old vagabond," exclaimed Phil, raising his whip, and letting it fall upon her almost naked shoulders, with a force as unmanly, as it was cruel, and impious, and shocking.
She uttered a scream of anguish, and writhed several times, until her eyes became filled with tears.

"My cup is not full yet," she exclaimed, sobbing, "neither is yours, but it soon will be, you knew me well when you gave that blow; but go now, and see how you'll prosper after it." Sharpe, even Sharpe, felt shocked at the cowardly spirit which could inflict such an outrage upon old age, under any circumstances; but much less under those which even he understood so well.
"Captain," said he, "if it was only for the credit of the Castle Cumber cavalry, I'm sorry that you gave that blow; those men on the other side of the road there were looking at you, and you may take my word it will spread." "How dare you speak to me in that style ?" asked Phil in a rage, and availing himself of his authority over him, "what is it your business, Sharpe?
Sharpe, you're a scoundrel, for speaking to me in this style--damn my honor and blood, but you are.

What do you know about that old vagabond ?" "Captain," said Sharpe, who was a sturdy fellow in his way, "I'm no scoundrel; and I do know that you have just horsewhipped your notorious ould grandmother." "Fall back," said Phil, "and consider yourself arrested." "Arrest and be hanged," replied Sharpe, "I don't care a fig about you--I was in Deaker's corps this many a year, and if you attempt to come the officer over me, let me tell you you're mistaken.

We're not on duty now, my buck, and you have no more authority over me than you have over the devil--me a scoundrel! my good fellow, I know who is the scoundrel." "My good fellow! Damn my honor and blood, do you apply that to me ?" "No, I don't," said Sharpe, "for you're a cursed bad fellow, and no gentleman--didn't Harman pull your nose in Castle Cumber, and you wanted the courage then that you had for your ould grandmother--me, a scoundrel!" "I'll tell you what, Sharpe; is this respect, sir, to your commanding officer?
Sharpe I'll mark you out for this." "Don't you know," replied Sharpe, "that two of us c&n play at that game; you had better keep yourself quiet, if you're wise--a man that's in the habit of getting his nose pulled should be very inoffensive." "Very well," said gallant Phil, "I'll say no more, but--" He then put spurs to handsome Harry, and rode off, full of vengeance against Sharpe, and of indignation at the contumelious reception he experienced at the hands of his grandfather.
Val's letter to M'Slime was, as our readers know, anything but an index to the state of regard in which he held that worthy gentleman.

As we said, however, that ground was beginning to break a little under his feet, in spite of all his unction and Christian charity, we shall, while Darby is on his way to deliver his letter, take that opportunity of detailing a conversation between honest Solomon and Poll Doolin, upon one or two topics connected with our tale.
"Sam," said Solomon to his clerk, "you were not present with us at prayer this morning! You know we do not join in family worship until you come; and it is but our duty to take an interest in your spiritual welfare.