CHAPTER XIX.
THE THEATRE—THE RUFFIAN—THE ASSAULT, AND THE RENCONTRE.
Major O’Leary had hardly dismounted in the quadrangle of the “c**k and Anchor,” when O’Connor rode slowly into the inn-yard.
“How are you, my dear fellow?” exclaimed the man of scarlet and gold; “I was just asking where you were. Come down off that beast, I want to have a word in your ear—a bit of news—some fun. Descend, I say, descend.”
O’Connor accordingly dismounted.
“Now then—a hearty shake—so. I have great news, and only a minute to tell it. Jack, run like a shot, and get me a chair. Here, Tim, take a napkin and an oyster-knife, and do not leave a bit of mud, or the sign of it, upon my back: take a general survey of the coat and breeches, and a particular review of the wig. And, Jem, do you give my boots a harum
