From that fit of insensibility he awoke in another and I hope a better world. gallows!" open place, crowded with people of all sorts and sizes. Making my way onward amongst their feet, though not without many I was now an outcast a wanderer over the face of the earth. a bitter curse and hearty kick, I arrived at a singular wooden I went forth, wretched and desponding, moralising upon the erection, like a signpost, with a rope hanging from it, and dreadful lengths to which their love of gold will lead our mas- underneath a cart with three men in it. I uttered a yelp of ters, mankind. "Oh!" thought I, "if we but take a bone joy, for in one of the three I recognised my long-lost master! from a larder-shelf to satisfy our hunger, how we are abused, To join him was of course my immediate impulse, and I accordsworn at, and flogged! Yet the same man who will punishingly sprang into the cart, but was rudely hurled out of it us for a trifling theft, will not hesitate to wrong or murder by one of the other men; and ere I could repeat my attempt, his neighbour for a few worthless, perishable pieces of yellow the vehicle moved away, the wheel passing over my body, and metal. Oh, destiny, how I thank thee, despite my sufferings, breaking three of my ribs. I looked again. I saw a human that I was not born a man! What sordid, selfish wretches figure swinging in the wind—a single convulsive struggle of these men are! Their thoughts from morning until night are the legs, and all was over. It was my master-he died the occupied with speculations intended to promote their own same death that had been inflicted upon my mother. "Well," comfort, their own aggrandizement. The dog alone loves thought I, "I shall never again express my wonder that men his master better than himself, and will lay down his life in should be so fond of hanging us, for I now perceive that they his defence. Man is a base, selfish wretch. The dog alone likewise hang one another.' I was in too great pain from my honours and practises generosity uninfluenced by hope of re- broken ribs to make my way to the body of my poor master: compense.' I strove to crawl as near the post from which it was suspended I soon afterwards met with another master. For a time he as I could, and as I lay there I heard an old man say," Ah, treated me well enough, and but for an untoward accident II knew it would be thus: he began with dog-fighting and might still have remained in his service. While sitting one badger-baiting-'twas but the first step to lead him to the day peaceably beholding the industry of my new master, who was a turf cutter, I heard at a distance a prodigious clamour After a while the body of my master was taken down, but as if of a number of dogs engaged in conflict. Being old and I was not suffered to approach it. It was concealed from my peaceably inclined, it occurred to me that I could not do bet-sight in a long narrow box, with a black cloth over it, someter than hurry to the spot and exert myself to effect a recon- what similar to the one from which in life he used to make me ciliation. Off therefore I set as fast as my old legs would pull the badger. A hole was dug in the ground beneath the carry me. Before, however, I arrived at the scene of riot, si- post, the box thrown into it, and the earth being shovelled in, lence had ensued, and I was about to return, when I perceived falling heavily upon it, recalled me to a sense of my situation, a stout-looking man engaged in pelting with huge stones two and I went forth once more, a houseless wanderer and an illor three wretched, half-starved looking little dogs, that were starred cur. H. D. R. endeavouring, howling with pain, to make their escape from his cruel attack. I raised a loud barking, encouraging the HORRORS OF THE SLAVE TRADE.-Commander Castle, dogs in our own language to get out of his way, hoping also R.N., while on service with the preventive squadron in 1828, that the noise might frighten their assailant, and induce him in command of H.M.S. Medina, captured the Spanish brig to desist from his barbarous amusement. I thought that I El Juan, with 407 slaves on board. It appeared that, owing had succeeded in my design, for the ruffian ran away as fast as he could; but determined to give him a lesson, I resolved much as to alarm the negroes, who made a rush to the gratto a press of sail during the chase, the El Juan had heeled so to terrify him to the utmost, and so gave chase. Of the result of this encounter I need not inform you, as you are alreadying. The crew thought they were attempting to rise, and acquainted with it from the account of the "Man" himself, getting out their arms, they fired upon the wretched slaves as published in the 12th number of your Journal. I have, how through the grating, till all was quiet in the hold. When ever, in justice to my own character, to state, that it was not Captain Castle went on board, the negroes were brought up, one living and one dead shackled together; it was an awful cowardice which prevented my biting him, and which induced me to put up with his ducking, &c, without resistance. Ittain Castle said he never saw anything so horrible in his scene of carnage and blood; one mass of human gore. Capwas not cowardice-it was the singular resemblance which he life. In the year 1831, the Black Joke and Fair Rosamond hearty shaking. But he shall not long escape. No; I am in fell in with the Rapido and Regulo, two slave vessels, off the the daily habit of walking up and down Sackville Street, in make their escape up the river; but finding it impracticable, Bonny river. On perceiving the cruisers they attempted to hopes of meeting with him, when, old as I am, I shall manage they ran into a creek, and commenced pitching the negroes to make my teeth, or rather their stumps, acquainted with overboard. The Fair Rosamond came up in time to save 212 slaves out of the Regulo, but before she could secure the other, she had discharged her whole human cargo into the samond, in a letter, remarks "The scene occasioned by the sea. Captain Huntley, who was then in command of the Rohorrid conduct of the Rapido I am unable to describe; but the dreadful extent to which the human mind is capable of falling was never shown in a more painfully humiliating maning condemnation of property amounting to perhaps 30001, ner than on this occasion, when, for the mere chance of avertnot less than 250 human beings were hurled into eternity with bore to my wicked master. That alone saved him from a his calves. I could not, on my return to the turf bog, find my master; and as I was on the road to look for him, I met with an old beggarman, who coaxed me over to him, regaled me with a crust, and in short exhibited so kindly a disposition, that, not feeling myself bound to my late owner by similar ties which had linked my destiny with that of him who had rescued me from the horsepond, I resolved I would seek after him no further, but join company with the good-hearted old beggarman the same, doubtless, so irreverently spoken of by the "Man" in his ill-natured paper-(oh ! that I had him by the leg this moment!) I did not, however, remain long with him, for he was taken up by an overfed bloated-looking variety of his species and lodged in prison, for no fault but that involuntary one of being poor; and as I would not be permitted to share his confinement, I wandered forth, and soon met with another master. Thus going from one to another-now feasting, now enduring the most agonizing hunger, now received with kindness, now with blows-passed away the next five or six years of my superannuated being. I longed to know what had become of my master, ruffian as he was, and my wanderings had for their object the discovery of his abode. For several years I roamed unsuccessfully: no traces of him could I perceive; his ancient haunts had all been abandoned; his former companions unvisited. At length, coming one morning into a country town, I observed an unusual bustle in the streets; great multitudes of people hurrying along; and, what surprised me most, all in one direction. Determined to see what this meant, I followed the stream, and presently came to an utter remorselessness." HYPOCRISY.-Hypocrisy is, of all vices, the most hateful to man; because it combines the malice of guilt with the meanness of deception. Of all vices it is the most dangerous; because its whole machinery is constructed on treachery, through the means of confidence, on compounding virtue with vice, on making the noblest qualities of our nature minister to the most profligate purposes of our ruin. It erects a false light where it declares a beacon, and destroys by the very instrument blazoned as a security. Cant resembles a young wife married to an ancient husband: she weds religion, looking forward to live by his death. Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at the Office TULLY CASTLE, COUNTY OF FERMANAGH, LOOKING OVER LOUGH ERNE. WE have chosen the prefixed view of the Castle of Tully as a subject for illustration, less from any remarkable picturesqueness of character or historical interest connected with the castle itself, than for the opportunity which is thus afforded us of making a few remarks on the beautiful lake-the Winandermere of Ireland, as Mr Inglis happily called it on the bank of which it is situated. We cannot conceive any circumstance that better illustrates the truth of the general principle that, as Shakspeare expresses it, "what we have we prize not at its worth," than the fact that Lough Erne-the admiration and delight of strangers, the most extensive and beautifully diversified sheet of water in Ireland is scarcely known as an object of interest and beauty to the people of Ireland generally, and is rarely or never visited by them for pleasure. It is true that the nobility and gentry who reside upon its shores or in their vicinity, are not deficient in a feeling of pride in their charming locality, and even boast its superiority of beauty to the far-famed Lakes of Killarney; yet till very recently this admiration was almost exclusively confined to themselves, and the beauties of Lough Erne were as little known to the people of Ireland generally as those of the sakes and highlands of Connemara, neither of which have ever yet been included in the books concocted for the use of pleasure tourists in Ireland. But Lough Erne will not be thus neglected or unappreciated much longer. Its beauties have been discovered and been eulogised by strangers, who have taught us to set a juster value on the landscape beauties which Providence has so bountifully given to our country; and it will soon be a reproach to us to be unfamiliar with them. It would be utterly impossible, within the limits necessarily assigned to our topographical articles, to give any detailed account of a lake so extensive as Lough Erne, and whose attractive features are so numerous; but as these features shall from time to time be included among our subjects for illustration, it will be proper at least to give our readers a general idea of its extent, and the pervading character of its scenery, on this our first introduction of it to their notice; and with this view we shall commence with a description given of it By an author of a History of the County of Fermanagh, written in the seventeenth century, but not hitherto published. "This lake is plentifully stocked with salmon, pike, bream, eel, trout, &c. Seven miles broad in the broadest part. Said to contain 365 islands, the land of which is excellent. The largest of the islands is Inismore, containing nine tates and a half of old plantation measure. Bally-Mac-Manus, now called Bell-isle, containing two large tates much improved by Sir Ralph Gore; Killygowan, Innis Granny, Blath-Ennis, Ennis-Liag, Ennis M'Knock, Cluan-Ennis, Ennis-keen, Ennis-M Saint, and Babha. might add, that if it were further improved by planting and agricultural improvements, it might justly claim the rank assigned to it by Mr Inglis, that of "the most beautiful lake in the three kingdoms." Long anterior to the arrival of the English in Ireland, the beautiful district on each side of Lough Erne, now constituting the county of Fermanagh, was chiefly possessed by the powerful family of Maguire, from the senior branch of which the chiefs of the territory were elected. This territory, which was anciently known as “ Maguire's country," was made shire ground in the 11th of Elizabeth, by the name which it still bears; but the family of its ancient chiefs still remained in possession till the plantation of Ulster by James I., when the lands were transferred to the English and Scottish undertakacres, left as a support to Brian Maguire, chief representative of the family. It is not for us to express any opinion on the justice or expediency of this great confiscation, but we may venture to remark, that it was a measure that could hardly have appeared proper to those who were so deprived of their patrimony, or that would have led to any other feeling than one of revenge and desire of retaliation, however reckless, if opportunity ever offered. Unhappily such opportunity did offer, by the breaking out of the great rebellion of 1641. a rebellion originating chiefly with the families of the disinherited Irish lords of the confiscated northern counties, and having for its paramount object the repossession of their estates. These are the [islands] most notable, except the island of Devenish, of which I'll speak in its proper place; however, by the bye, in Devenish is remembered the pious St Molaishe, who herein consecrated two churches and a large aspiring steeple [the round tower], and an abbey, which abbey was rebuilt A. D. 1430 very magnificently by Bartholomew O'Flanagan, son of a worthy baron of this county, and was one of the finest in the kingdom. In this island there is a house builters, as they were called, with the exception of two thousand by the Saint, to what use is not known, but it is as large as a small chapel-of-ease. it's of great strength and cunning workmanship that may seem to stand for ever, having no wood in it; the inside lined and the outside covered with large flat hewn stone, walls and roof alike. On the east of this island runs an arm of the Lough called in Irish Cumhang-Devenish, which is of use to the inhabitants, viz, if cattle infected with murrain, black-leg, &c, be driven through the same, they are exempted from the same that season, as is often experienced. The said waters run northwards for twelve hours daily, and back again the same course for twelve hours more, to the admiration of the many. Some authors write this Lough Erne to have been formerly a spring well, and being informed by their Druids or Amongst the English and Scottish settlers in Fermanagh, philosophers that the well would overflow the country to the the most largely endowed with lands was Sir John Humes, or North Sea, for the prevention of which they caused the well Hume, the founder of Tully Castle, the subject of our preto be inclosed in a strong wall, and covered with a door hav-fixed wood-cut, and who was the second son of Patrick, the ing a lock and key, signifying no danger while the door was fifth Baron of Polwarth, in Scotland. The property thus obsecured; but an unfortunate woman (as by them came more tained, consisting of four thousand five hundred acres, remischief to mankind) opening the door for water, heard her mained in the possession of his male descendants till the death child cry, and running to its relief, forgot to secure the well, of Sir Gustavus Hume, who dying without surviving male and ere she could return, she with her house and family were issue in 1731, it passed through the female line into the posdrowned, and many houses more betwixt that and Ballyshan- session of the Loftus family, in which it now remains. non, and so continues a Lough unto this day. But how far this may pass for a reality, I am not to aver-however, it is in the ancient histories of the Irish. If true, it must be of a long standing, seeing this Lough is frequently mentioned in our chronicles amongst the ancientest of Loughs. Fintan calls it Samhir.” We shall not, any more than our old author, “aver for the reality" of this legend, which by the way is related of many other Irish lakes; but we may remark, in passing, that the story would have more appearance of "reality" if it had been told of Lough Gawna or the Lake of the Calf-in the county of Longford, which is the true source of the river Erne, of which Lough Erne is but an expansion. At Lough Gawna, however, they tell a different story, viz, that it was formed by a calf, which, emerging from a well in its immediate vicinity, still called Tobar-Gawna, or the Well of the Calf, was chased by its water till he entered the sea at Ballyshannon. The expansion of the Samhir or Erne thus miraculously formed, is no less than forty miles in extent from its northwest to its south-east extremities, being the length of the whole county of Fermanagh, through which it forms a great natural canal. Lough Erne, however, properly consists of two lakes connected by a deep and winding strait, of which the northern or lower is more than twenty miles in length, and seven and a half miles in its greatest breadth, and the southern or upper is twelve miles long by four and a half broad. Both lakes are richly studded with islands, mostly wooded, and in many places so thickly clustered together as to present the appearance of a country accidentally flooded; but these islands are not so numerous as they are stated to be by the old writer we have above quoted, or as popularly believed, as accurate investigation has ascertained that their number is but one hundred and ninety-nine, of which one hundred and nine are situated in the lower lake, and ninety in the upper. But these are in truth quite sufficient for picturesqueness, and it may be easily conceived that two sheets of water so enriched, and encircled by shores finely undulating, to a great extent richly wooded, and backed on most points by mountains of considerable elevation, must possess the elements of beauty to a remarkable degree; and the fact appears to be, that though the Killarney and other mountain lakes in Ireland possess more grandeur and sublimity of character, Lough Erne is not surpassed, or perhaps equalled, by any for exquisite pastoral beauty. Perhaps, indeed, we The Castle of Tully was for a time the principal residence of the Hume family; and on the breaking out of the rebellion in October 1641, it became the refuge of a considerable number of the English and Scottish settlers in the country. The discontented Irish of the county having, however, collected themselves together under the command of Rory, the brother of the Lord Maguire, they proceeded to the castle on the 24th of December, and having commanded the Lady Hume and the other persons within it to surrender, it was given up to them on a promise of quarter for their lives, protection for their goods, and free liberty and safe conduct to proceed either to Monea or Enniskillen, as they might choose. But what trust can be placed in the promises of men engaged in civil war, and excited by the demoniac feelings of revenge? With the exception of the Lady Hume, and the individuals immediately belonging to her family, the whole of the persons who had so surrendered, amounting to fifteen men, and, as it is said, sixty women and children, were on the following day stripped and deprived of their goods, and inhumanly massacred, when also the castle was pillaged, burnt, and left in ruins. Let us pray that Ireland may never again witness such frightful scenes! The Castle of Tully does not appear to have been afterwards re-edified, or used as a residence. After the restoration of peace, the Hume family erected a more magnificent mansion, called Castle Hume, nearer Enniskillen, and which is now incorporated in the demesne of Ely lodge. In its general character, as exhibited in its ruins, Tully Castle appears to have been a fortified residence of the usual class erected by the first Scottish settlers in the country-a keep or castle turreted at the angles, and surrounded by a bawn or outer wall, enclosing a court-yard. It is thus described by Pynnar in 1618: "Sir John Humes hath two thousand acres called Carryn THE AMERICA LETTER. "Fwhy, then, tare-an'-ages, mother, is that what you lay “ARRAH, Judy !" quoth Biddy Finnegan, running to a neigh- out for me, an' me afther turnin' the Vosther?" bour's door. "Arrah, why ?" answered the party summoned. "Arrah, did you hear the news?" "No, then, what is it?" "Sure there's an Amerikey letter in the post-office." "Whisht!" "Sorra a word of lie in it. Mickeen Dunn brought word from the town this morning; and he says more betoken that it's from Dinny M'Daniel to his ould mother." Sibby expostulated, but in vain; his exploits in "the Vosther" had set him beside himself, and he boldly declared that nothing short of a dacint clerkship would ever satisfy his ambition. A man of one argument was Dinny M'Daniel, and that one he made serve all purposes-"Is it an' me afther turnin' the Vosther!"- -so that people said it was turn about with him, for the Voster had turned his brain. Be that as it may, there was one who agreed with Dinny that he could never think too highly of himself, for, like every other scapegrace "Oh, then, troth I'll be bound that's a lie, e'er-a-way: the parish. Nelly Dolan's friends, however, were both too snug on record, he had won the goodwill of the prettiest girl in the born vagabond, there wasn't that much good in him, egg or bird: the idle, worthless ruffian, that was the ruination of her choice, so the lovers were driven to resort to secrecy. and too prudent to leave her any hope of their acquiescing in every one he kem near: the, the"Softly, Judith, softly; don't wrong the absent: it is from Dinny urged her to elope with him, knowing that her kin, when they had no remedy, would give her a fortune to set matters Dinny M'Daniel to his ould mother, and contains money moreto rights; but she had not as yet reached that pitch of evil over;" and she then proceeded to tell how the postmistress had desired the poor widow to bring some responsible person that courage which would allow her to take such a step, nor, unfortunately, had she the good courage to discontinue such a hopemight guarantee her identity, before such a weighty affair was given into her keeping, for who knew what might be inside of less connection, or the clandestine proceedings which its exisit? though a still greater puzzle was to discover by what means the consequence. The bright eyes, that used to pass for a very tence required. Alas, for poor Nelly! sorrow and shame were the much reprobated Dinny obtained even the price of the let-proverb through the whole barony, grew dim-the rosy cheeks, ter-paper; and how old Sibby had borrowed a cloak from one, and a "clane cap" from another, and the huxter had harnessed his ass and car to bring her in style, and Corney King the contingent man, that knows all the quality, was going along with her to certify that she was the veritable Mrs Sybilla M'Daniel of Tullybawn; and how she would have for an escort every man, woman, and child in the village that could make a holiday -compliments cheerfully accorded by each and all, to do honour to the America letter, and the individual whose superscription it bore. Dinny M'Daniel was the widow's one son, born even in her widowhood, for his father had been killed by the fall of a tree before he had been six months married, and poor Sibby had nothing to lavish her fondness upon but her curly-headed gossoon, who very naturally grew up to be the greatest scapegrace in the parish. He had the most unlucky knack of throwing stones ever possessed by any wight for his sins; not a day passed over his head without a list of damages and disasters being furnished to his poor mother, in the shape of fowls killed and maimed, and children half murdered, or pitchers and occasionally windows made smithereens of; but to do him justice, his breakage in this latter article was not very considerable, there being but few opportunities for practice in Tullybawn. To all these the poor widow had but one reply, "Arrah, what would you have me do?-sorra a bit of harm in him; it's all element, and what ud be the good of batin' him?" At last the neighbours, utterly worn out by the pertinacity of his misdemeanours, hit upon an expedient to render him harmless for at least half the day, and enjoy that much of their lives in peace, with the ultimate chance of perhaps converting the parish nuisance into a useful character. A quarterly subscription of a penny for each house would just suffice to send Dinny to school to a neighbouring pedagogue, wonderful in the sciences of reading and writing, and, what was a much greater recommendation under the present circumstances, the "divil entirely at the taws." To him accordingly Dinny was sent, and under his discipline spent some five or six years of comparative harmlessness, during which he mastered the Reading-made-Easy, the Seven Champions, Don Bellianis, and sundry other of those pleasing narratives whereby the pugnacity and gallantry of the Irish character used whilom to be formed, to which acquirement he added in process of time that of writing, or at least making pothooks and hangers, with a symmetry that delighted the heart of poor Sibby. The neighbours began to think better of him; but the "masther" swore he was a prodigy, and openly declared, that if he would but "turn the Vosther," he'd be fit company for any lady in the land. Thus encouraged, Dinny attempted and succeeded, for he had some talent. But sure enough the turning of the Voster finished him. It was now high time for Master Dinny to begin to earn his bread, and accordingly his mother sought and obtained for him a place in the garden of a nobleman who resided near the village, and was its landlord: but the dismay of the gossoon himself when this disparaging piece of good fortune was announced to him, was unbounded. He was speechless, and some moments elapsed before he could ejaculate, *Collector of county cess. and sallow-and the slim and graceful figure in a word. that more than one ballad-maker had celebrated, grew wan avoid the murderous indignation of her faction. It was to Dinny had played the ruffian, and had to fly the country to America he shaped his flight, though how he had obtained the means no one could divine; and now, after the lapse of nearly a year and a half, here was a letter from him to solve all speculations. What a hubbub the arrival of "an America letter" causes in Ireland over the whole district blessed by its visit! It is quite a public concern-a joint property-being in fact always abroad to all the neighbours at home, and its perusal a matter regarded as a general communication from all the neighbours of intense and agonising interest to all who have a relative even in the degree of thirty-first cousin among the emigrants. Let us take for instance the letter in question, for the cavalcade has returned, and not only is the widow's cabin full, but the very bawn before her door is crowded, and the door itself completely blocked up with an array of heads, poking forward in the vain attempt to catch a tone of the schoolmaster's voice as he publishes the contents of the desired epistle, and absolutely smothering it by the uproar of their squabbles, as they endeavour each to obtain a better place. "Tare-an-ounties, Tom Bryan, fwhat are you pushing me away for, an' me wanting to hear fwhat's become of my own first cousin!" "Arrah, don't be talkin', man--fwhy wouldn't I thry to get in, an' half the letther about my sisther-in-law?" Oh, boys, boys, agra, does any of yees hear e'er a word about my poor Paddy?” The last speaker is a woman, poor Biddy Casey: for the last three years not a letter came from America that she could hear of, whether far or near, but she attended to hear it read, who, driven away by bad times and an injudicious agent, had in the hope of getting some information about her husband, made a last exertion to emigrate, and earn something for his called at the post-office, at first with the confident tone of family. Regularly every market-day from that event she assured expectation, to inquire for an America letter for one Biddy Casey; then when her heart began to sicken with apprehensions arising from the oft-repeated negative, her question was, "You haven't e'er a letter for me to-day, ma'am?" and then when she could no longer trust herself to ask, she merely presented her well-known face at the window, and received the usual answer in heartbroken silence, now and then broken by the joyless ejaculation, "God in heaven help me!" But from that time to this not a syllable has she been able to learn of his fate, or even of his existence. Now, however, her labours and anxieties are to have an end-but what an end! This letter at last affords her the information that, tempted by the delusive promise of higher wages, her husband was induced to set out for the unwholesome south, and long since has found a grave among the deadly swamps of New Orleans. But like every thing else in life, Dinny M'Daniel's letter is a chequered matter. damsel, elbowing her way out of the cabin, her eyes bursting See, here comes a lusty, red-cheeked out of her head with joy. "Well, Peggy-well-well!" is echoed on all sides as they crowd around her; "any news from Bid?—though, troth, we “Oh, I dunna, I dunna-I couldn't listen with the joy, I tell yé." "But, Peggy alanna, what will Tom Feeny think of all this? and what is to become, pray, of all the vows and promises which, to our own certain knowledge, you made each other coming home from the dance the other night?" Pooh! that difficulty is removed long ago the very first money she earns in America is to be dispatched to the care of Father Cahill, to pay Tom's passage over to her. "And will she do such a shameless thing?" some fair reader will probably ask. Ay will she; and think herself right well off, moreover, to have the shame to bear; for though Peggy can dig her ridge of potatoes beside the best man in the parish, her heart is soft and leal like nine hundred and ninety-nine out of the thousand of her countrywomen. "Musha, then, it well becomes you to talk that way," replied her mother. "If your own wasn't a taste too soft in its time, my darlint, your kith an' kin wouldn't have to skulk away as they do when your name's spoken of." A fresh burst of tears was all the answer poor Nelly could give to this invective; an answer, however, as well calculated as any other to stimulate the wrath and arouse the eloquence of Mrs Dolan, the object of whose visit was to induce Nelly to assume an air of perfect coolness and nonchalance-in fine, to show she had a “sperrit." In this it may be perceived she met with a signal failure; and now the full brunt of her indignation fell on the unfortunate recreant. Nelly's sorrow of course became louder, and between both parties the child was wakened, and naturally added its small help to the clamour: nor did the united uproar of the three generations cease until a crowd unexpectedly appeared at the door of the hovel, and the voice of Sibby M'Daniel, half mad with joy, was heard through the din, internal and external. "Well, if she won't come to us," spoke the elated Sibby, 'we must only go to her, you know, though ye'll allow the news was worth lookin' afther;" and ere the sentence was well concluded, she with her whole train had made their way into the cabin. "God save all here," continued Sibby, "not excepting your. self, Mrs Dolan; for we must forgive and forget everything that was betune us, now." "An' if I forgive an' forget, what have you to swop for it?" asked the irrate individual so addressed. Another happy face-see, here comes old Malachi Tighe, clasping his hands, and looking up to heaven in silent thankfulness, for his "bouchal bawn, the glory of his heart," is to be home with him before harvest, with as much money as would buy the bit o' land out and out, and his daughter-in-law "Good news an' the hoith of it," was the answer of Sibby, is fainting with gladness, and nis grandchildren screaming as she displayed her letter; but Mrs Dolan was in no humour with delight, and the neighbours wish him joy with all the ear- to listen to news or receive conciliation of any kind, and so nestness of sympathy, for Johnny Tighe has been a favourite. she conducted herself like a woman of "sperrit ;" and gatherWoe, woe, woe!-Mick Finnegan has sent a message of fonding her garments about her, rose slowly and stately from the encouragement to his sweetheart, which she never must hear, undignified posture in which she was discovered, and so defor typhus, the scourge of Ireland, has made her his victim, parted from amongst them. and the daisies have already rooted on her grave, and are blooming there as fresh and fair as she used to be herself; and the wounds of her kindred are opened anew, and the deathwail is raised again, as wild and vehement as if she died but yesterday, although six weeks have passed since they bore her to Saint John's. What comes next?" Johnny Golloher has got married to a Munster girl with a stocking full of money;" and Nanny Mulry laughs at the news until you'd think her sides ought to ache, and won't acknowledge that she cares one pin about iton the contrary, wishes him the best of good luck, and hopes he may never be made a world's wonder of; all which proceedings are viewed by the initiated as so many proofs positive of her intention, on the first convenient opportunity, to break her heart for the defaulting Mr Golloher. But among the crowd of earnest listeners who thus attended to gratify their several curiosities by the perusal of Dinny's unexpected letter, none failed to remark the absence of her who in the course of nature was, or should be, most deeply interested in the welfare of the departed swain. Nelly Dolan never came near them. In the hovel where the poor outcast had been permitted to take up her abode when turned out of doors by her justly incensed father, she sat during the busy recital, her head bowed down and resting upon the wheel from which she drew the support of herself and her infant. Now and then a sob, almost loud enough to awaken the baby sleeping in a cleave beside her, broke from her in spite of herself; while her mother, who had ventured to visit her on the occasion, sat crouched down on the hearth before her, and angrily upbraided her for her sorrow. 66 Whisht, I tell you, whisht!" exclaimed the old crone, "an' have a sperrit, what you never had, or it wouldn't come to your day to be brought to trouble by the likes of him." "Och, mother darlint," answered the sufferer, "don't blame me-it's a poor thing, God knows, that I must sit here quiet, an' his letter readin' within a few doors o' me." "Arrah, you'd better go beg for a sight of it," rejoined the angry parent with a sneer; "do, achorra, ontil you find out what little trouble you give him." "It's not for myself, it's not for myself," answered the sobbing girl. "I can do without his thoughts or his favours; all I care to know is, what he says about the babby." "Pursuin' to me!" exclaimed her mother, "but often as you tempted me to brain it, an' that's often enough, you never put the devil so strong into my heart as you do this minute. So be quiet, I tell you." "Och, mother, that's the hard heart." "Musha, then, fair weather afther you," was the exclamation of Sibby when she recovered from the surprise created by this exhibition of undisguised contempt. "Joy be with you, and if you never come back, it'll be no great loss, for the never a word about you in it anyhow, you ould sarpint. But, Nelly, alanna, it's you an' me that ought to spend the livelong day down on our marrowbones with joy and thankfulness, though you did'nt think his letter worth lookin' afther;" and down on her marrowbones poor Nelly sank to receive the welcome communication, her baby clasped to her bosom, her glazed eyes raised to heaven, all unconscious of the crowd by which she was surrounded, and her every nerve trembling with excess of joy and thankfulness, while the bustling Sibby placed a chair for the schoolmaster near the loophole that answered the purposes of a window, and loudly enjoining silence, gave into his hands the epistle of his favoured pupil to read to the assembled auditors for about the sixth time; and Mr Soolivan, squaring himself for the effort, proceeded to edify Nelly Dolan therewith. The letter went on to state, in the peculiarly felicitous language of Dinny M'Daniel, that on his arrival in New York, and finding himself without either friends or money, and thus in some danger of starvation, he began to lower his opinions of his personal worth, and solicit any species of employment that could be given to him. After some difficulty he got to be porter to a large grocery establishment, in which he conducted himself pretty well, and secured the confidence of his employers, and a rate of wages moderate, but still sufficient to support him. The sense of his utter dependence upon his character compelled him to be most particularly cautious of doing anything to affect it in the slightest degree, and in process of time he became a changed gossoon altogether, an example of the blessed fruits of adversity. The thoughts of Nelly Dolan and his old mother never quitted him, his anxieties about the former clinging to him with such intensity that he began forthwith to lay by a little money every week to send her, but was ashamed to write until he should have it gathered. An unfortunate event, however, soon put a stop to his accumulation, and drove him to use it for his subsistence. This was no less than the sudden death of the head of the es tablishment in which he was employed, which, he being the entire manager of the concern, had the consequence of breaking it up completely. Thus Dinny was cast on the world again, and found employment as difficult to be got as ever. His little hoard was soon spent, and at last he had to turn his steps westward, where labour was more plentiful and hands fewer. After many journies and vicissitudes he at length |