WEARING OF THE GREEN.
BY JUSTIN M'CARTHY.
"So you are really going to Ireland, old fellow, and at such a time?"
"Yes. Why not?"
"Look out for the Fenians! See that they don't capture you, and keep you as a British hostage."
"Stuff; there are no Fenians."
"Oh, aren't there, though! Yes, by St. Patrick, and Fenianesses, too—just ask Gerald Barrymore!"
"Why, I am going over to Gerald Barrymore. I am going to spend the time with him — hunt, and course, and fish, and all the rest of it."
"Well, he says there are Fenians to no end."
"Don't believe a word of it, although I am sure he thinks it if he says so. There isn't pluck enough in the population to make anything like a formidable movement of any kind. I'll undertake to rout any band of Fenians that may come in my way with this cane."
"Misguided young man, farewell. If you should fall a victim to your rashness, I'll write your epitaph!"
"Thank you, my dear fellow! That is indeed adding a new terror to death. It will doubly careful of my precious existence!"
