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was the wonder of a village, was no meet rival for the couragement, still caress, and never weep but when excellence schooled, disciplined, and matured within a alone,—would be a painful speculation, and yet not city's teeming sphere. A self-humiliating truth like profitless. If the heroism of the poor, the noble, the this was slow to force itself upon his mind, and reluc- enduring fortitude of woman, more especially in her tantly received, when it had gained admission there. severest trials, her most intense distress, were chroniThree years he lived upon the fruits of that economy cled-ay, simply noted down in all their naked truth, which a thrifty parent had sedulously practised for the - those chronicles would glorify our common nature, space of thirty; though subsidiary means were now and put to shame the glowing narratives in which hisand then derived from his professional labours, such torians too studiously have sought to embalm and persubsidies were rare and scanty. The last remnant of petuate the madness, the folly and the lust of many the legacy vanished ere long. Then came the bitter of the misnamed heroic, and many of the misnamed ness of hope deferred,—the incessant but inoperative great. struggles of a mind inadequately framed to wrestle We wander from the thread of our discourse, which with the difficulties which pressed upon his path, - assumes a gloomier texture. Poor Summers the gradual demolition of every anticipation most des declined apace— forbade all application to his brother perately clung to and most inveterately cherished, - ---sickened-grew hopelessly delirious--waned with the slow approaches of inevitable penury,—the pro the waning season—and “perished in his pride!” At gressive relinquishment of little luxuries at first, and such a juncture, it became imperative upon the part of then of comforts, and then of actual necessaries. By Lucy to inform the brother of her loss, and this she all these gradations—step by step—the lowest deep of did, not without some trepidation and misgivings. poverty was painfully attained. But even this, which When the intelligence was thus broken to him, he bore down hope and health before it,—the hideously neither raved, nor tore his hair in agony, nor would palpable reality which rose up in place of all the permit the paroxysms of an ineffectual grief to have pleasant visions shaped with such ease, and abandoned the mastery of his mind. Mourn for the dead he with such reluctance and regret,—even this was did, unquestionably, and laid his brother's ashes in a powerless to vanquish pride. And hence the brother grave beside his father's, with such solemnity and he had rivalled, but in whose love he still maintained undissimulated sorrow as testified the earnestness a place, was kept profoundly ignorant of the clouds with which, at heart, he loved him. But the living which now were settling down so heavily upon the had their claims upon his sympathy; and with a delipatronless artist's prospects.


cacy that was strangely blended with the naturally What the wife felt, and never uttered-submitted to frank and warm-hearted manner in which his kindand never murmured; how patiently she toiled, and nesses were generally performed, he proceeded to pronever spoke of weariness, -suffered in heart and mind, vide a home for the widow and the orphan of his and yet could wear a smile, --could still whisper en brother.

Hard by the narrow plot of ground which hides organ's swell is audible in every chamber, stood beneath the grassy ridges on its surface the moulder (as still there stands) a cottage that then had been ing dust of successive generations, the resting place for some time tenantless,-a dwelling like that of alike of wrinkled age and soft-cheeked infancy;--S0 the poet, parva sed apta. This did the thoughtful near to it, indeed, that towards sun-down the shadow care of honest John select for those whose welfare now of the old church tower darkens the little porch, became his favourite concern. It was thenceforth a and when the Sabbath-day services commence, the choice amusement to him, an employment into which

he entered with an almost boyish zealousness, to make a copious flood of tears,—and if John's eyes grew likeit habitable,—to furnish it according to the fancied wise moist, and if his voice wavered like a girl's, when tastes of Lucy,—to call to mind the predilections which he assured her he would ever be to her a brother,-and he remembered her to have expressed when but a if he felt uncomfortably awkward-he knew not how laughter-loving maiden, whom it seemed impossible -in the contemplation of the happiness he had efthat calamity could ever touch,--to carry there the fected, and could only answer in reply to frequent high-backed, velvet-cushioned, oaken chair (a family thanks, "God bless you both!” and wondered how his heir-loom) in which she used sometimes to sit, and eyes could be so dazzled by the sunshine, and pressed bid the brothers jestingly kneel down and pay their the little one until his tiny hand was almost flattened sovereign mistress fealty,- to add, besides, some fa- in his uncle's grasp, --surely on such occasion it was vourite ornaments of antique rarity, that at the same only natural. time had attracted her regard,--to till the garden, Why prolong the narrative ? Is not John Summers clear the walks, plant its neglected beds with flowers, still the landlord of the “Royal Oak,” a substantial prune the redundant branches of the vines and fruit man in purse and person-still a bachelor, and, in retrees; and, in fine, to make it what was, and is,-an demption of his promise, a brother to the widow? Is enviable haven for the shelter and security of one, not the artist's relict a tenant of that pretty cottage upon whose gentle nature the tempests of the world near the church? And is not her handsome son the had early and in rapid sequence spent their shocks. very image of his ill-starred father, excepting that his

It would have done your heart good to have seen mind is rather moulded in the fashion of his gentle John Summers thus employed, and afterwards to have mother's ? witnessed the glow of honest pride which mantled on Fortune has prospered both; and a competence his comely visage when he led the widow and her bequeathed to Lucy by a distant relative of her orphan thither, and when he heard her falter forth her mother's, enables her now to mitigate with liberal hand approbation and her gratitude. And if in very thank- the sorrows and distress of which she herself has felt fulness she gave the feelings of her full heart vent in the weight and known the bitterness. J. S.



BY THE LATE JOHN L'ESTRANGE. An old moss-covered, clay-built cottage, nearto the little dove-like eye, glossy raven hair, a delicate blush, road that winds round the base of the celebrated Mul- and a gentle retiring mien. The high and unsuitable laghmast, in the county Kildare, was, many long years notions instilled into her mind by her mother had their ago, the residence of the widow Fitzgerald and her only usual evil effect; for thus schooled by the foolish old daughter. Though the widow was “poor and miser- woman, she never condescended to learn any useful art, ably old,” with merely the possession of the wretched and seldom stirred from morning to night to perform cabin and "a small bit of a garden,” she still boasted any necessary office about their little home. She spent a high descent. Her constant theme from the rising the most part of her time in reading whatever books to the setting of the sun, was descanting on the nobi- she could procure or borrow amongst

the neighbouring lity and the antiquity of her family and connexions, peasantry, and these were mostly of such character, tracing them, upon her husband's part, to that chief of that they only served to stimulate those wild and rothe name, who came into Ireland with the first chival- mantic sentiments already imparted by her mother. ric band of iron-clad Anglo-Normans, and, on her own When the girls of the other cottages would be busily side, to the Irish Vesta, the famed Saint Bridget of the employed spinning, sewing, or knitting, Inny might be burning shrine, a princess of the high heroic Milesian seen sitting in the sun at her cabin door, beside her race; until her daughter's head was fairly turned, mother, reading the wonderful adventures of Parismus, listening to the long drawn-out and oft-repeated tales Parismenes, and Parismenides, Hero and Leander, of the grandeur and glory of her ancestors. The Dorastus and Faunia, (from which Shakespeare has maiden was called Winifred, after some one of the drawn the “Winter's Evening Tale,”) the notorious ancient and canonized virgins.

Don Bellianis of Greece, the redoubtable deeds of the “You know, Inny,” she would say in Irish, “that Seven Champions of Christendom, and the life and although poverty like a dark cloud has settled on us, career of the renowned Redmond O'Hanlon, the hero yet it cannot blacken the brightness of the clear-flowing robber chief of Ireland. The simple dame with open stream ; riches, like the sun, may gild the barren mouth devoured these olden legions of giants, enchanmoor with its noon-tide beams, but it cannot illumi- ters, and ladies fair, which she believed as firm as faith nate the muddy slough. So hold your head bigh, in Gospel truth; and the girl, though half a sceptic, child of my burning love, nor stoop to mingle with the had her fancy so filled with heroes, knights, ruffians, clown and the churl.”

and queens in distress, that they constantly floated in Now Inny Fitzgerald was really a handsome girl, her day dreams and filled her visions of the night. there was a something in her air and appearance supe

In this shadowy world she passed the beginning of rior to the daughters of the neighbouring farmers. her days, and many a peasant lad who sought to win She was tall and fair, with a swan-like neck, and a her love had but to nurse his disappointed hopes as Vol. II.



the reward of his ambition. She spoke in a strain flows in the veins of either Countess or Earl-she is which none of them could well understand ; and they of the same race. told their tale in a style so different from that in which “I could swear she was above the common," said the Green Knight poured forth his passion at the feet the ready and flattering pedlar ; "a body might look of the bright Colberta, that she could not avoid turning a long time before he'd meet with such an eye and away quite shocked and disappointed. However, with an air among the bodachs' (churls) daughters about coming years we gradually emerge from the twilight the moat. of youth and romance into the glaring day of care and "Aye, aye," responded the dame, "the sun is the reality. Our valleys lie no longer beneath the magic sun, let the day be winter or summer." mist of fancy, nor our mountains tinged with the “But look at this,” resumed the pedlar, turning to golden hues of the imagination,- for one side soon Inny, -" there's a scarf that a princess might wear on begins to look drear and lonely, and the other steep and a birth-night;" and he turned and exhibited it in difsterile.

ferent lights. In this state of dreamy, unprofitable existence a few “It is beautiful indeed,” remarked Inny with a brief summers passed away; and when at length the sigh, after feasting her eyes upon its bright shadowold woman, feeling her strength decline, could not helpings, leaving it back upon the heap."

. thinking how desolate her child would be when she “There's velvet for a coif,” said he again, opening was no more, she then regretted that Inny had not out a piece of rich murrey-coloured cloth, “real Genoa listened to some of the honest youths, who, though so —what a beautiful contrast!” and rolling it into a much beneath her in birth, were yet so far above her kind of hood he placed it over her dark ringlets,-"but in worldly consideration.

such hair does not want it,” he added, throwing it “When I am gone, Inny, darling,” she would cry aside, s'twere a pity to confine those tresses or to in unavailing regret,

"who will then care for the deso shade that brow." late orphan? who will give the friendless bread to eat ? "It is too rịch for me entirely, or the like of me,-and, misery to think on it! that one of such a race said Inny, still gazing on the finery with an anxious should fall so low, you cannot earn a morsel for your eye. self,—it is useless to expect assistance from our friends “Would you like the stuff?" said the pedlar. “You - for since your father fell into decay, and was taken shall have it a full groat in the ell less than any other away from us, the shadow of one of them never dark in the county; take it I know you would make it look ened my threshold. Oh! what will become of the so well that I'd sell nothing else for the season.” solitary bird of my widowed nest, when I am no “I would like it,” sighed Inny; “but if a single

groat would purchase your whole pack, I haven't it at Although Inny keenly saw all the horrors of her present." situation in perspective, yet, with a daughter's true Well, if you haven't it now, you may another time, filial devotion, she turned from their contemplation to and to show you I am a different sort of trader from sooth the distress of her mother.

my brethren of the pack and the worn wand, you shall “Do not fret about me, mother," she would say ; have the dress until you can make the money by your "God, you know, always protects his own; and how spinning or knitting; and I promise besides, not to often have we read of the good and innocent being res hurry you,” replied the pedlar. cued by His mercy from worse even than poverty “No,” said Inny, “I could not think of taking from shame and the shadow of death?”

what I couldn't pay for ;' and she felt the full force of It was one fervid day in the middle of summer, as the young man's remark and her want of industry, Inny was preparing their frugal meal under the di “Since the decent young man is so good,” interrection of her now almost helpless mother, that a fered the mother, “you might take his offer, and we young man with a large pack on his back entered the could


him from time to time.” cottage.

“Come, keep it and welcome,” said he ; “I know it “God save all here!” said he, seating himself, and pleases your fancy, and it will never be said that placing his pack before him on the ground—“Well, Maurice O'Moore denied a garment to a handsome but it is a warm day, and weary to be carrying such a girl of gentle blood, because she didn't carry the coin load ; and the heat has made me as weak as water with on the end of her finger.” out whiskey."

Inny was persuaded to keep the stuff and scarf, and He was a handsome, agreeable young fellow, with a in the spirit of grateful hospitality she detained the free address and an ardent eye; and appeared to belong merchant to partake of their repast. He gazed deto that class known by the name of pedlars or travel- lightedly on the gentle Inny; he thought there was an ling merchants. He entered into conversation with the extraordinary grace in her every action, and he imawidow and her daughter, and was evidently attracted by gined that he never tasted so sweet a morsel as that the bearing and manners of the latter ; while, with the prepared and set before him by her fair hands, so that tact of his trade, he opened out his bundle before her, by the time the meal was concluded he had drunk deep and displayed its hidden finery to her wondering eyes. of the tender passion.

“See there,” said he, “there's a stuff fit for the “Now,” said he, a sweet Colleen like you must Countess of Kildare, and I am sure it would suit your have a heap of sweethearts; but when you appearin that complexion to a hair, ma colleen dhas (my pretty girl); elegant dress, the numbers that will follow you will be would you like it?”

beyond countin',-'twill make you look like a queen.' “And if it is fit for the Countess,” replied the old “ Poor Inny,” replied the mother, “ has always woman, still catching at her favourite theme," my taken my advice ; for though poor, we considered ourdaughter, poor as she is, might not think it too fine selves above the people about us, --she has no sweetfor her wearing,-her blood is as noble as any that hearts.”

“ You were right,” remarked the merchant ; " for was attentive, delicate,—and, what all women like betspringing from a good old stock myself, I vowed never ter still, he was assiduous; he wooed, and won her, and to take a wife unless I could meet with something they were married. She loved him tenderly and sinabove the mean-minded. I never considered money an cerely, and bent her wish and will to please him in object; but wished to have one genteel and industrious, every particular, and they were happy. with whom I could share my heart, and enjoy my The honey-moon was scarcely over, when he made earnings in love and happiness.” This was spoken up his pack to depart on an expedition of traffic, leavwith a view of finding out was the pretty Inny engaged, ing a wish, as travelling rapidly wears hose, that Inny and of showing the mother that he was a prize worth would have some new stockings knitted for him by his attaining; as he found, when he rose to depart, he return. should leave his heart behind him.

She did not now know what to do-she had led him The generous and gallant pedlar became the subject to believe, through the instigation of her mother, that of praise to both mother and daughter; and many a she was a miracle of industry, and could do every secret prayer did the old woman put up to Heaven, thing becoming to and necessary in a wife; she could that such a man might be destined as the companion not bear that he should think unworthily of her. She of her beloved child; and often did Inny dwell upon wept incessantly; and though she commenced knitting the open, yet courteous and flattering turn of his man a stocking, in the vain hope of doing something, yet ners. She soon procured knitting-needles, and pre she could not see to move the needles, for the blinding vailed on one of the cottage girls to teach her how " to tears that constantly filled her eyes. Often would she mount,” and begin a stocking; and when Maurice retire to the little garden, to indulge her griefs alone; O’Moore called again, she had thrown aside Parismus and day after day passed away in unavailing sorrow, and Parismanes, and was busy over the shining wires. until she almost wished she was dead before her husShe blushed in pleasurable confusion as he entered, band came back, to find that the wife he prided in and and cast her work aside, that he might not observe her loved so much, could not or would not comply with his awkwardness. His visits grew frequent, and their ob first request. ject became very unequivocal. He made her presents, One evening, as she sat in her little garden summer

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couth object so close to her, without perceiving how he approached. His head was immensely large, and his shoulders were broad and sinewy, yet he was not much higher than her knee. His eyes were small, deeply

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sunk, far apart, and ever shifting and restless, twin I can never meet him-Oh! I wish the earth would kling and moving from side to side with involuntary open, and devour me," she cried, passionately. flashings, like the flames of two tapers exposed to the “Then take my offer. I promise you riches, howinds on a dark night. The colour of his face was of nours, and the smiles and love of your husband, if you a glistening, greenish, sickly, reptile-like yellow, drawn take it—but poverty, reproach, and shame, if you reand puckered into an infinity of cross lines and wrinkles. fuse,”—he urged, with a vindictive earnestness. His nose was flat, and his mouth enormously large, “Won't you tell me where you live, at least, that I with long white protruding and fangish teeth ; and may guess at who you are?” And as she asked the round his chin was scattered, at broken intervals, a question she weighed the proposal, and her mind was fringe of red coarse, bristly hair ; while a shock of the wavering. same colour covered his head, but stood up from the “You know the place well,” he answered. “I live skin, and streamed from it as dead-like as if it had not near the old moat of Mullaghmast, Inny O'Moore. found root upon the mis-shapen skull. He glared up Often I watched you in the evening sun, when you were at Inny, and forgetting the grief that was at her heart, but a child, fair daughter of the race of the stranger,”. she shuddered before the malignity of his glance. He and his voice quivered, and assumed an unearthly sogrinned spitefully as he spoke,

lemnity. “ Ah! then, how do you do this evening, Inny She now traced the proposal and the proposer menO’Moore ?-is it not a great shame for you to make tally; there was a power in his voice and manner that your eyes so red, crying, and your husband coming fearfully impelled her to accept the proffered compact, home to-morrow?

yet she shrunk in fear and disgust from a contact with “ To-morrow!” repeated Inny, in fear and won such demoniac deformity; still she equally dreaded der.

to meet and brave the anger and resentment of a deAye, indeed, to-morrow, Inny O'Moore,” said he ceived and disappointed husband. “Riches and hoagain, and his voice was deep and hollow.

nours,” thought she ; "poverty and shame, love and morrow! yes, yes, you are a fine wife for an industrious contempt ; seven years was a long time to look forward poor man!”

to-the ugly dwarf might die, or she herself might “ Oh! what will become of me?—what will I do ?die before the time expired; and if it came to the cried Inny, weeping afresh, and forgetting everything, worst at last, it was but boldly breaking the contract, in the fear and shame of meeting her husband. and defying him.” The ungainly animal seemed to

“ I'll tell you what you'll do," replied the little man; read her thoughts, for his deep, hoarse, cackling " and if

my advice, you will yet be a happy laugh startled 'her from her reverie. She looked woman.

-his fiery, restless eyes were throwing flitting, yet “Oh! tell me-tell me, and I'll pray for a blessing piercing glances over her face ; and a malignant grin on your head, night and morning. I'll pray to - twisted itself in and about the folds of his terrific "I don't want your prayers or your blessings,” said

mouth. he, interrupting her ;=< but I wish to do you a ser “I now make you my offer for the last time, Winivice in your need, and it's in my power.”

fred O'Moore,” said he; “I can't be wasting my fa“ Then what am I to do at all?” said she.

vours on the thankless, or the ungrateful. Choose “ I'll soon tell you, Inny O'Moore,” he replied, your fate at once--be happy, or miserable, for ever!” "and you have not much time to spare in thinking." She paused, looked hesitatingly, but did not reply. She bent forward with eager anxiety.—“Aye, listen to “I cannot remain with you longer,” he continued. me attentively; now these are the conditions :—you “Farewell, unfortunate Winifred O'Moore,”—and he must promise to be mine, and to come with me on this turned to depart. Impelled by a sudden impulse, she day come seven years, unless you can tell my name be stretched her hands to him, he receded like a shadow tween this and that day; and on every day, from this from her touch. to that, I will knit for you, and give to you, seven pairs “I agree-I agree !” said she. “I will either tell of stockings."

your name, or be yours at the end of seven years, and She paused ; —" Seven pairs of stockings,” she re do what you promised—make me happy!” peated—"every day for seven years; and then, unless “It is well." -he answered—“you shall be happy; I tell your name, I must be yours and go along with -I am pledged—and thus I put my mark on you, you.”

-and, stooping down, he plucked a tall stalk of the “ That's the very thing, Inny,” said he; "are you beautiful grass called “fairy flax," and drawing its willing?"

powdery, seedy head through his hand, so as to sepa“Who are you, or what are you, at all ? ” she asked, rate it from the stem, he threw it in her face. She in astonishment.

put up her hand to wipe away the dusty pollard, but “No matter who I am, or what I am. I can do when she looked about her again, the mysterious being what I say, Winifred O'Moore,” he answered ; “will was not to be seen. A low, fiendish laugh, half stifled you take my offer and be happy ?-refuse it, and


as from the other side of the hedge, broke upon her are miserable.”

ear, but-she was alone. “Oh! sure I don't know you,” she said, shuddering Sad and astonished she retired to her couch, and as she contemplated the being who asked her to be soon in broken slumbers dreamed away the cares and his ; “ and you make me tremble looking on you. Yet vexations of her overloaded heart. When she awoke, my heart is breaking."

she was inclined to think the interview with the “ You should have thought of this before,” said the strange little man as a dream, until her


fell upon spiteful looking elf—“ before you deceived a trusting a heap of stockings, new, and neatly folded, and heard

What will he say to his wasteful wife ?-To a hoarse, triumphant laugh outside her narrow, fourmorrow!!

paned window.


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