Year: 1876

My dear old grandfather / can see
him now-alas, that is only in fancy =
with his tall, spare figure, stopping so
slightly for all the weight of his seventy
years his long silver hair brushed up
into point on the forehead, as it used
to be worn when George Nv. was King,
and curling low on the collar of his coat
behind, his kind brown eyes beaming
with loveand goodness for MI who crossed
his path his tender, loving mouth,
through which no word of anger or
aught save peace and charity e'er had
exit and the white regular teeth perfect
to the last, with which it was the dear
old mans boast he could crack nuts with
the best of us. Poor and rich, gentle
and simple, all loved the old Admiral.
OF children the old sailor was the sworn
friend and protector, and it was the
drollest sight to witness his attempt TO
chastise youthful delinquent he would
look at the child with tightly compressed
lips and badlysustained effort to be
severe, his brown eyes twinkling the
while then he would take down his cane
and hold it suspended over the back of
the offender. who could scarcely repress
a snigger which quickly became laugh,
for we all know by previous experience
what Granny's punishment" meant
then whiz-z would fly the cane TO the
other end of the room, the dear old man
would join heartily in the laugh against
himself, and the culprit finally be re-
galed with bread and sugar and warned
"never to do it again, you young ras-
cal. Well, perhaps it was not exactly
correct training, according to Cocker or
Solomon but, my darling, my darling,
how we loved you for it We would not
willingly have grieved you for all the
world, and you knew it. You have been
laid to rest these many years in the pret-
ty little churchyard where you and
loved to sit, and the grass is fresh and
green over your grave but not fresher,
not greener, my more than father, than
Is your memory in our hearts.


Many happy hour we spent together,
sitting hand i'll hand III the long summer
evenings on the messy trunk of fallen
tree in Barna Wood, or in that same
pretty churchyard where my dear sleeps,
on Sir Alured Gwynne's tomb, with the
rocks cawing solemnly in the great elms
overhead perpetual requiem, or so
fancied it, over the quiet dead at our
feet. Many blood-curdling tale of nall-
tical adventure and superstition did the
old man there recount to me, until |
used to see in every yew standing out
grimly in the fading light sheeted fig
IRE, and occasionlly (for did'not reckon
even Granny as sufficient protector
against the unholy ghosts and bogies he
had coniured up) take ANONYMOUSLY to
my heels at the conclusion OF some pecu-
liarly thrilling story, the recital of which
was as intensely dreaded as 1t was earn
estly begged for.


But OF all his repertory, which was
comprehensive one, the tale that pleased
us children most was one of which he
himself was the hero and, indeed, on
first hearing it, so profound was our rev.
erence for himself and the part he had
played in the stirring adventure, that we
mentally classed him with Nelson, Col
lngwood, and other notable sea-worthies
whose portraits, and whose alone, dec
grated the walls of my grandfather's
simple little dwelling. The incidents of
the Irish rebellion were fresh in his mem
ory, ana he-then lad of sixteen or sew
enteen--bad been the unwilling actor in
a remarkable event which very nearly
put an end 20 all chance OF our being ac
quainted.


In the year '9S, when, as you know,
Irish folk, in addition TO their other ter
rors, were hourly in dread of French
invasion, my great grandfather, Sir John
Hastings, was the possessor of consider
able property in the north of ireland and
resided in an old-fashionel, tumble-down
manor house not far from a well. known
watering place III the County Donegal.
Ny grandfather, Arthur Hastings, then
midshipman IN the Royal Navy, had
contrived TO obtain short leave of alb
sence for the purpose of paying a visit to
his parents on his return from a cruise of
some months duration and he had not