was a full great courtesy, tha: such a king, and so mighty, garred his men dwell in this manner, but for a poor lavender. Again northward they took their way, through all Ireland," &c.

Will it readily be believed that for the first of these stories there is not a vestige of ground in ancient narrative or chronicle, besides the circumstances narrated by Barbour? The danger incurred by stopping, the fear of the woman that if left behind she would fall into the hands of the cruel Irish, the fine look of the king and the fire which flashed from his eyes, his appeal to his officers, his resolution to risk a battle, and the happy result which after all attended his delay, are all imaginary—not to speak of the liberty which has been taken in representing the infant as already born. The old historian only expresses his surprise, natural to a man in that age, that a great king should have put himself to a little trouble on account of a poor serving-woman; but the modern historian, unable to content himself with this simple, natural, and pleasing case, must imagine new circumstances to make it tell on his own sentimental age. We do not quarrel with Sir Walter for his way of narrating the story; we acknowledge, on the contrary, that he has made it very interesting; but it is fiction, and not history, or at least what history is usually understood to be.

An elaborate inquiry instituted a few years ago by Mr George Brodie into Hume's History, brought to light a number of remarkable departures from truth in that work, partly perhaps the result of prejudice, partly of carelessness, and partly of a desire for effect, the peculiar sin of modern writers of almost all kinds. We shall not occupy the attention of our readers with many instances. Respecting the conclusion of the life of Charles I., the historian says, "Every night from his sentence till his death, the king slept sound as usual, though the noise of the workmen employed in framing the scaffold, and other preparations for the execution, continually resounded in his ears." Now, the scaffold was erected at Whitehall, and it would have been necessary for the king to be lodged in that palace in order to hear these preparations making. The fact, however, is, that he lodged at St James's Palace, and did not come to Whitehall till the morning of the day of his execution. The truth is stated explicitly by Herbert, the king's attendant, in his Memoirs; which, of course, are a good authority. But Mr Hume chose to overlook this, and adopt the striking circumstance of the noise in the king's ears from Clement Walker, a much inferior authority, who certainly states it, but in the very next page contradicts it, by saying that the king walked from St James's to Whitehall that morning. Mr Brodie examined the copy of Herbert in the Advocates' Library, and recognised Mr Hume's pencil mark at this very passage; so that he must have been perfectly aware how the fact stood.

Mr Hume represents Charles II., while concealed in the oak at Boscobel, as seeing several soldiers pass by, all of them intent in search of him, and many of whom "expressed in his hearing their earnest wishes of seizing him." Accordingly, the sign of the Royal Oak invariably exhibits several soldiers riding about close under the tree. The historian also represents Charles as sitting in the oak for twenty-four hours. If we are to believe the king's own narrative, he was concealed in the tree only from the early part of a day till the evening; had a companion and provisions, which Hume does not advert to; and only saw soldiers at a considerable distance searching the wood for persons escaped from the battle, and probably with no particular idea of the king in their heads. This part of Mr Hume's narrative betrays marks of great negligence, at the same time that a love of the marvellous has induced him to add some circumstances which had no existence in reality. Many of the other striking points in history, which, either from reading them or from seeing them frequently depicted by artists, we have had strongly impressed on our minds, are grounded probably on no better foundation. The parting of Louis XVI. from his family is a historical tableau, more deeply impressed perhaps on the public mind than any other event of modern history. Strange to say, no such parting took place. The Duchess D'Angouleme herself states, that, her mother having, the night before the execution, asked to be allowed to see the king again, with the children, next morning, he consented, but afterwards requested that they might not be permitted to return, as their presence afflicted him too much. This scene, therefore, which, as the Edinburgh Review remarks, "has been handled both in prose and verse, and represented in all sizes of pictures," turns out to be a fiction.

No points in history are more impressive than mots, or remarkable expressions, which have dropped from the mouths of great personages on particular occasions. But we fear that very few of these would look so well as they now do, if particular inquiry were made respecting them. Philip of Valois, flying from the battle of Cressy, and arriving before the closed gates of the castle of Braye, exclaims (in history), Ouvrez, ouvrez, c'est la fortune de la France!" [Open, open, to the fortunes of France.] This sounds.

utility. Beyond this, it seems to us only to entertain, which was its first object as is expressed by old Bar bour:

"Stories to read are delectable,

Suppose that they be nought but fable"

for which end it matters little whether the writer should take the better half of his facts from his own fancy, or "tell the tale as 'twas told to him."

RUSSEL'S AUSTRALIAN TOUR. MR RUSSEL, a young man engaged in mercantile pursuits, having in the course of last year visited the principal ports in the Australian colonies, has on his descriptive of what he actually saw and learned at return published a small and unpretending volume the different places during his stay.* So many books of questionable veracity have been lately written respecting these colonies in connection with emigration, that we should certainly have avoided noticing Mr Russel's production, if we had not some assurance, from a personal knowledge of the author, that his statements may be relied upon as correct, and are therefore of that nature which it may be advantageous to make widely known.

The first place to which the writer proceeded was Adelaide in South Australia, and his account of that town and its neighbourhood, as will be seen from the extracts which we shall present, is in every respect corroborative of the statements which we were lately enabled to lay before our readers on the subject.

well, for the dullest understanding is alive to the fecling under which the king appears to have embodied in his single person the depressed fortunes of his country. But when we turn to the first copies of Froissart, the original narrator of the incident, what do we find? Only the tame but natural exclamation of the king, "Ouvrez, ouvrez; c'est l'infortuné roi de la France." [Open, open; 'tis the unfortunate king of France.] According to all histories, Francis I. wrote to his mother from the field of Pavia, "All is lost but honour." It happens that the letter which the king really wrote on that occasion is preserved; and in it, after an account of the battle, he is found to say, "With regard to the remaining safe, are all that are left to me. To know this will details of my misfortune, honour and life, which is be some consolation in your adversity, and therefore I have begged permission [from his captor the emperor Charles] to write to you this letter," &c. It thus appears, that, instead of the pithy dispatch said to have been sent off from the battle-field, the French long letter, in which the idea certainly occurs, but so monarch wrote, in prison and by permission, a pretty accompanied, that its effect, as the quick outburst of a regal spirit in sudden adversity, is totally lost. To take another example from French historyHenry IV., usually called The Great, is said to have written the following pithy sentence to one of his bravest nobles, after the battle of Arques :-"Hang thyself, brave Crillon; we have fought, and thou wert not there!" Now, various letters from Henry to Crillon are extant, and the expression "hang your- The vessel having arrived in Holdfast Bay, on the written long before the battle of Arques. Henry wrote shore, with the captain, making for a landing-place self" does occur in one of them; but that one was 31st of March 1839, a party of emigrants put off for it when carrying on the siege of Amiens. Crillon," says he, "hang yourself for not having been sitors. "Brave pointed out to them at Glenelg, by some morning vi with me on Monday last, on one of the finest occa"On getting near the shore, we had smoother water, till our boat grounded, and our sailors carried sions which ever was seen, or probably ever will be us over the surf to the beach on their backs: the first seen. The enemy sallied out very furiously, and re-ground we now touched, after being a hundred and treated very shamefully," &c. The letter goes on in thirty days at sea. Here were some people employed the same style for some length. The force of the mot in carrying sheep on shore through the surge, from but still more is its point curtailed, when we learn man's Land. They had much difficulty in keeping is thus sadly diminished when one reads the original, the long-boat of a vessel just arrived from Van Diethat Henry was in the habit of saying "Hang your- these sheep from drinking of the salt water; this, by self" to every body. It was an expression continually carelessness, often proves fatal to them; the beach in his mouth, and appears in numbers of his letters to was strewed with many carcases. Biron, Harambure, and others of his intimates. On crossing a ridge of sand-hills, we came to a small house, beside a few sheep or cattle folds, for the accommodation of those landed here. After getting proper directions, we started for Adelaide, passing along an extensive plain, finely interspersed with trees, and presenting altoge ther a beautiful scene, but for the very sandy and parched look of the soil, with the grass so very thinly set on these sandy flats. Along this path lay many carcases of sheep, on which the carrion crow, with his peculiar glossy skin, and incessant croak, was feasting. The day was very hot, and our long want of exercise in walking rendered it rather more oppressive than we could have expected. At half way there is, as is common in older countries, a house for the accommodation of travellers, as the sign-boards are wont to read. Paid here 3s. for each bottle of porter. This we did not grudge, considering that we had seen none for some time. There was a very neat brick house getting up for better accommodation than the present one, which is quite a primitive looking affair.

These, we think, are curious proofs of the misrepresentation to which events and circumstances are liable when they are reported either by persons concerned, or by those who write afterwards from original authorities. They might easily be multiplied and we might further advert to the doubts which a little inquiry threw on the popular history of Richard III.; the cutting of eight centuries and some fifty kings from Scottish history by Innes and Pinkerton; and the more recent labours of Niebuhr, by which the early monarchy of Rome, with the laws of Romulus, and a great many other things, have been transferred from the region of the historical to that of the mythic or fabulous. It is evident that there is great reason to doubt all history which has not been rigidly inquired into; but even after all practicable inquiry has been made, there must remain great room for doubt, for it does not seem to be in human nature to give a strictly just and true account of the most familiar circumstances. It is, indeed, probable that not one fact in the whole range of history, original and derived, is truly stated.

As the different novelties presented themselves at every step, our party began to separate, each according to his own fancy, some taking great pains to ascerAre we, from this, to argue that history is altogether tain the nature of the soil, others to gather the exotics, useless? No, certainly. But it seems proper that the whilst others, more sanguinary, waged war with all prevailing opinions respecting its utility should receive and sundry of the feathered tribe, every shot sending a little correction. The veneration which describes it its echo rumbling again on the ear of those hastening as philosophy teaching by examples, would need to be forwards to the city of Adelaide. In our progress we somewhat cooled. Philosophical history has been thus met a very communicative and pleasant person, who described by an able hand:-"The other plan is far put us in possession of as much information regarding more comprehensive and ambitious-professing not the settlement, as it is called, and its inhabitants, up only to make a selection of the facts most worthy to be recorded, by abridging some and dwelling at length a whole file of newspapers. Such sort of persons are to the present time, as could have been gleaned from on others, but also to pass an authoritative judgment truly invaluable. We also met accidentally with the on the wisdom or folly, the merit or demerit, of all emigration agent, who gave us what official informathe acts and actors with which it is conversant-to tion was necessary for land-order holders, and their trace memorable events back to their causes, and for-work-people, how to proceed, and shortly reached ward to their consequences-to furnish, in short, not Emigration Square, a number of wooden houses, put only a true account of the facts as they occurred, but up for the reception of the commissioners' emigrants, a satisfactory theory of their connection and mutual where they remain till employment is given them; if dependency, and thus to teach far more of their by the commissioners, it is at a lower rate of wages true character and value than was probably known than is given by private individuals. At this time, to those who produced them," &c. To think of all from the number of recent arrivals, it was full; and this being done, when, so far from a correct appre- in conversation with one of them, we learned that great ciation of motives being attainable, the simplest discontent was exhibited amongst them, arising from matters of fact cannot be found stated by any two (as he said) the inducement held out to them before persons in the same way! We fear the views of leaving Britain, of comforts awaiting their arrival, learned persons on this point have been a good deal which had not been realised; besides, sickness, then overstrained; and, indeed, the world at large may be existing among them, unfortunately tended to increase said to affirm our remark, for the dictates of this phi- the disappointment; diarrhoea and ophthalmia frelosophical monitor are practically disregarded, or, if quently affect the newly-arrived colonist, the former ever referred to, seem to different minds to sanction caused by a free use of the water, and the latter from opposite kinds of conduct. We question if a single the reflection of the sand." tolerably authentic instance could be pointed out, of one series of transactions, as recorded in history, proving the means of actuating the leading men in any other series, to the advantage of the community; while instances of their acting in apparent contradiction to the lessons, as they are called, of history, occur every day. If we were to regard history as an effort merely to satisfy curiosity respecting what has gone before, or to contribute towards that enlargement of the mind which information produces, we should be coming nearer the real measure of its

observes, "There are some very good inns in the town. Speaking of Adelaide and its inhabitants, Mr Russel of Adelaide, having their sleeping-rooms generally apart from the public ones altogether, which is an excellent arrangement. There is one inn here deservedly well supported by visitors, from the style of conducting it, a la Parisienne, the lady gracing the head of the table; its looking-glasses and lamps, &c., giving it much the

Russel. Glasgow, 1840. *A Tour through the Australian Colonics in 1839. By A.

appearance of the cafés in Paris. A great deal of information is to be gathered here on an evening from those who frequent it, of what is going on in sales, purchases, surveys, &c. There are also some extensive shops and stores, which, from the influx of strangers, present a business-like stir. Several individual instances of prosperity have already shown themselves, by attending to the advice of making hay while the sun shines. I wish I could add truly, growing hay, or any thing else, for the comfort of many others."

The most extraordinary circumstances connected with the town are, that it is situated about five miles from the sea-shore, and that this sea-shore is unapproachable by vessels, so that the landing of both goods and passengers is attended with the greatest difficulty and expense. It would seem as if the very worst spot on the whole line of coast had been selected for the capital of the infant colony. Speaking of the creek in which the landing is performed, Mr Russel observes, "The banks of this creek up from the anchorage to the port, a distance of about five miles, extend with muddy surface near to mid-channel in some places, making it rather difficult to navigate a ship's boat, although pilots take up craft drawing much more water. On these banks are great numbers of teal, wild-ducks, &c., all affording excellent opportunities for the sportsman, but for the difficulty of obtaining them after being killed. We grounded on a sandy shoal which lies near to the wharf, and got carried out as before to the bank, which runs down to this shoal, getting dry at low water. Here goods of every description lay waiting conveyance up to town, furniture, provisions, agricultural implements, carts, carriages, boxes and barrels, all in a heap, the owners having brought out these necessaries on the faith of having plenty of good surveyed land ready to choose from, and there convey such stock and stores at once; but how different is the case at present!"

Land-jobbing, as B― and others have mentioned, is the grand object of attention :-"The system of land-jobbing is carried on here to a great extent by companies and capitalists, keeping up a constant excitement in town, which would otherwise be dull indeed. It is, in fact, the ne plus ultra of Adelaide conversation. Parties are to be met at their different rendezvous, talking of nothing else but their favourite spec. In the public room, one evening, were a few ready to dispose of sections at Port Lincoln, with a frontage for building, &c., in the proposed town, at the moderate rate of twelve hundred per cent. profit. A party of these puffing worthies being met together, along with a few uninitiated members of the Adelaide community, one of the former in a speech was holding out the unparalleled rise in price of this splendid portion of Australian land, at the same time making offer to buy up any order at the great price, so certain was he of a still greater-(this was intended for the newspapers alone). But a person not exactly in this way of thinking was present; he immediately caught at the offer; sell out he would; buy they must, to keep up the price of shares; when, alas! on the return of some explorers, two days afterwards, disappointed in their hopes, the price of sections fell at once to below par, and defeated the Port Lincoln Hotellers.

Among the whole population now in this province (computed to be about 8000 souls), there is not yet a single farm that deserves the name. And in the only branch likely to remunerate the colonist here, namely, that of grazing, up to the present time there are just about forty-five sheep and cattle stations, a great part of these being the property of the South Australian Company, and others who have obtained special surveys, to the exclusion of single individuals of limited capital."

What, then, supports the population? Hear Mr Russel on this trying question. "One has but to look on the many houses, and the people who occupy them, generally, when the question starts itself, what supports this community? or, look at the mode of colonisation pursued at present here, and the question comes more strongly, from whence are all the people so suddenly brought together able to find returns? Really so many nice little books have been got up respecting this colony, and so few have taken notice of their fallacy, that many continue to consider then as the sentiments of the colonists; indeed I have heard some confess that they emigrated on the faith of these very publications, wherein the writers have condescended, with such apparent sincerity, to quote prices current of the neighbouring colonies as being theirs, giving the sailing distances from other settlements (this suits a purpose), the immense increase of population, &c., and then launched out in praise of its superiority to all other places, in the growth of maize, potatoes, cabbages, onions, peas, &c.; even the very natives are a superior class of beings to all others in New Holland.

With regard to crops, there is little doubt but some land will be found, as in other colonies, fit for agriculture. Up to this period, however, nothing but a few patches of ground have been turned over, by way of experiment; some maize was sown last season about the reed-beds, which did very well-some gardens in North Adelaide have produced wheat, barley, and oats; besides which, samples of the lucerne and Italian ryegrass have been grown. About two acres of land near South Adelaide were planted by the owner with potatoes; these presented such a fine and novel appearance, that a merchant offered L.400 for them, which was refused; but drought came, and hurt the

expected growth exceedingly, leaving the grower minus of the offer. This is one of the greatest and most common drawbacks the farmer encounters on this vast continent, thus rendering the occupation of an agriculturist rather precarious."

The prices of articles quoted by Mr Russel are on the same exorbitant scale mentioned by B————, and need not be extracted.

SEALS AND SEAL-HUNTING.

captor as a dog. "The varied movements and sounds," says this gentleman, " by which he expressed delight at my presence and regret at my absence were most affecting; these sounds were as like as possible to the inarticulate tones of the human voice." *** The same gentleman captured a female six weeks old, also of the great or bearded kind. "This individual would never allow herself to be handled but by the person who had Mr R. afterwards visited Port Philip, his opinion the charge of her; yet even she soon became compaof which seems to be more favourable than of Adelaide ratively familiar. It was amusing to see how readily or its neighbourhood. Meanwhile, we close our ex- she ascended the stairs, which she often did, intent, as tracts with the single observation, that of all the it seemed, on examining every room in the house; on colonies belonging to Great Britain, and claiming the showing towards her signs of displeasure or correction, notice of the emigrant, South Australia appears to she descended more rapidly and safely than her awkbe decidedly the worst. The principle on which it wardness seemed to promise. She was fed from the was founded is excellent, but the country, from all first on fresh fish alone, and grew and fattened consitrustworthy accounts, is execrable, and unfit for re- derably. We had her carried down daily in a handceiving a large population, and against that natural barrow to the sea-side, where an old excavation misfortune no species of economic arrangement can admitting the salt water was abundantly roomy and make head. We do not by any means offer this opi- deep for her recreation and our observation. After nion from a wish to disparage a well-designed scheme sporting and diving for some time, she would come of colonisation, or to lead attention to other places as ashore, and seemed perfectly to understand the use of more favourable settlements. At the present moment the barrow. Often she tried to waddle from the we strongly recommend all classes of intending emi-house to the water, or from the latter to her apartgrants to wait for a short time before deciding on which ment, but finding this fatiguing, and seeing preparashall be the land of their adoption. Nearly all our tions by her chairmen, she would of her own accord colonial possessions are at present out of sorts, and it mount her palanquin, and thus be carried as comwould be difficult to say which promises to settlers posedly as any Indian princess. By degrees we venthe largest share of social discomfort. tured to let her go fairly into the sea, and she regularly returned after a short interval; but one day, during a thick fall of snow, she was imprudently let off as usual, and, being decoyed some distance out of sight THE general characters of the seal, as an animal of of the shore by some wild ones which happened to be considerable size haunting unfrequented coasts, and in the bay at the time, she either could not find her living much in the water, although warm-blooded and way back, or voluntarily decamped. She was, we breathing the atmosphere, must be well known. There understood, killed very shortly after in a neighbouring are many varieties of it-perhaps more than twenty-inlet. We had kept her about six months, and every but it is not necessary to trace these minutely in this moment she was becoming more familiar; we had place. Two kinds only are found, except very rarely, dubbed her Finna, and she seemed to know her name." on the British coasts; one being what is called the Mr Frederick Cuvier, in a work published in 1824, Common Seal (Phoca vitulina of naturalists), which is says, "I have lately had occasion to witness a seal generally six feet long, and the other the Great or which displayed much intellectual power. He did Bearded Seal (Phoca barbata), which is about two, punctually what he was ordered. If desired to raise and sometimes so much as three, feet longer. The himself on his hind legs, and to take a staff in his seal, in all its varieties, has one common property of hands, and act the sentinel, he did so he likewise, at a long body sloping to the hinder extremity, with two his keeper's bidding, would lie down on his right side, short paws or paddles in front, and two hinder and or on his left, and would tumble head over heels. He larger paws projecting straight out behind, by which would give you either of his paws when desired, and appendages it swims swiftly in the water, and can would extend his sweet lips to favour you with a kiss." even manage to walk or crawl upon land. The head is roundish, like that of some of the feline tribes, but with a countenance of mild expression, and the remarkable peculiarity of possessing no external ears; the skin over the whole body is tough, and covered all over with short bristly hair. The animal is carnivorous, and has accordingly a pair of long pointed teeth in each jaw. The tribe are ranked by naturalists as the third tribe of the Carnivora, which again form the third family of the order Carnassiers (butcher-animals) of Cuvier. Living on fish, they may be said to serve an end at sea, analogous to that which the rapacious quadrupeds and birds serve by land, namely, to keep down the abundance of the smaller animals.

of an hour under water, while engaged in pursuit of Seals can remain about ten minutes or a quarter prey; but it is necessary that they should after such intervals come to the open air, as otherwise they would be drowned. In some instances they have been known to remain about twenty-five minutes under water, without any fatal effect; but the animals which did so must have been unusually calculated for the purhuman race. pose by nature or habit, like pearl-divers amongst the When a seal catches a fish, it holds it in its fore paws, and with its teeth tears off the skin, after which it makes its meal. Towards other animals, the demeanour of the seal is timid and gentle. It never seeks an encounter with man, but will use every endeavour to avoid him, and only act on the offensive if it cannot otherwise make its escape. The two sexes pair, and the female brings forth one each summer, generally in some sheltered situation, as, for instance, the beach at the inner extremity of a cave which the sea enters. The young one is no sooner born than it will take to the water, and display all the activity of its seniors. The seal is gregarious, and groups of one, two, and three dozen, and sometimes many more, live and disport themselves together. They often spend many hours lying on rocks a little way out to sea, all being ranged in a close row, with their heads to the ocean, ready to tumble in on the least alarm, while one stands a little apart, like a sentinel, with head erect, and the senses in activity, to watch the approach of danger.

The brain of the seal is a well-developed organ, and the animal possesses so much intelligence and sagacity that it has been called the Dog of the Sea. It seems quite ascertained that they have a relish for music, and many successful efforts have been made to tame them. A young one, taken into human society, instead of exhibiting symptoms of terror, will court attention, and suck a finger held out to it, like many domestic animals. It is related of a seal domesticated in Orkney, that he would lie near the fire among the dogs, would bathe daily and return to the house, but, having found his way to the byre, he used to steal there unobserved and suck the cows; on which account he was discharged, and sent back to his native element. Another, of the bearded or great kind, which was taken from a cave in Shetland, when only a few hours old, become in a day or two as much attached to its

The skin of the seal is convertible to useful purposes, and underneath it he has a layer of blubber, from which a considerable quantity of oil can be obtained. Without regard, then, to his flesh, which used to be eaten in some northern countries, he is an object of some importance to man. Seal-hunting was once practised to a great extent in Norway. It is now followed as a regular branch of trade by vessels which proceed for the purpose from America, both to the Arctic regions and to the South Sea Islands, but particularly the latter. From Great Britain, also, a few vessels sail annually to Greenland for the same purpose. A particular kind of seal in the South Sea is more than usually valuable, on account of the goodly coat of fur with which he is covered.

In Shetland seal-hunting is followed partly as an amusement, and partly with a view to profit; and the various modes in which it is carried on, give occasion for the exercise of much ingenuity, and for much lively adventure. We find some interesting particu lars on the subject in the paper by Dr Edmondston, already quoted, that gentleman being himself a great seal-hunter. One mode of the sport was to beset the caves in which the pairs live at the time of the birth of their offspring.

"The caves to which the Great Seal resorted, are arched perforations in the precipices open to the sea, and extending inwards sometimes upwards of a hundred fathoms, terminating in pebbly beaches, on which the young were born and nursed. Some of these caves can only be entered under water, like the one in the Friendly Islands described by Mariner, and immortalised by Byron; and others are too winding and narrow to admit of access. When the entrance was sufficiently capacious, the sea smooth, and the seals were known to have brought forth, two boats proceeded to the cave; the one lay at the mouth; the other, attached to its second by a line sufficiently long to reach to the extremity of the tunnel, pushed inwards. On reaching the beach, some of the crew leaped out and knocked on the head as many of the old ones as they could, the rest escaping to the sea, without attempting to defend their young ones, who were then dispatched at leisure. On such occasions, from ten to twenty young ones were sometimes taken from one cave; the booty belonged to the owners of the property in which the caves were situated, and a portion of it was assigned as a reward to the captors. These caves, or Hellyers as they are here termed, were at one time held in strict property, and highly valued; and formal deeds of conveyance of them, as well as of fowlings, were occasionally made, one of which I have seen.

Seals were also at all seasons sought for and surprised on the rocks. A curious anecdote was related to me in Faroe of a native assailing, on the rocks, a male of the Great Seal, but not being able to detain

* Observations on the Distinctions, History, and Hunting of Seals in the Shetland Islands. By Lawrence Edmondston, M.D. Memoirs of the Wernerian Natural History Society, vol. viii part L. 1839.

him, actually got astride on his back, endeavouring to behead him at the gallop, and slipped out of the stirrups hardly in time to allow his Barb, mortally wounded, to take his leap, all alone, into the water. Lucas Debes, the old historian of those remote isles, and Donald Maclean, in his account of one of the Hebrides, make mention of the practice of hunting seals with dogs; the services of which, however, could amount only to irritating them to resistance, and thus, by detaining them a little, to gain time to the hunter to attack them with the club, for the strength of any dog is utterly trifling compared with that of a seal of ordinary size.

Within even the last twenty years, both species of scals have become much more rare and cautious, so that the net and the gun remain almost the only means of capture. In a few districts the net is employed for taking the Common Seal, by being set near the rocks frequented by them, while they are absent, and lying in wait till they again approach the shore, but it is chiefly used for catching the Great Seal. The dimensions of the net are about fifteen fathoms long and five broad, the meshes are nine inches square, and it is made | of strong cod-line. When the seals are suspected to have brought forth in a cave, the net is rapidly and silently dropped across the entrance. A man holding a rope attached to its upper ends is placed on each side, on some convenient pinnacle of rock that affords footing. Sometimes, from the shelving of the sides of the cave, the net cannot easily close it, and in this case the men hold each a long pole, with a bunch of straw or other substance at the end, keeping it constantly in motion under water, to deter the animal from escaping by means of this vulnerable part of the line of siege. When all is secured, the boat proceeds inwards as far as possible, and by firing and hallooing the men endeavour to induce the seals that may be in the cave to venture out. "This they soon attempt, and are consequently caught in the net. When fairly enveloped in the net, or masked, as it is called, the capture is considered secure. The power of the animal is constrained, and even were it not, he has to lift a mass of wet net, with heavy weights attached, to the surface, every time he attempts to respire: only the largest and most powerful can accomplish but when he does, or when the water is so shallow as to render it easy, he is shot. Generally he cannot rise, and all that remains to be done is to wait patiently for his death by drowning. From the boat he may be seen making vain efforts to tear the net with his teeth, rolling on the bottom, now and then desperately struggling to disengage himself, and constantly looking up with a most striking expression of defiance and upbraiding at the boat, which he knows contains the agents of his sufferings." He dies in about a quarter of an hour.

this;

This mode of hunting seals is characterised by Dr Edmondston as barbarous and exterminating, and he professes greatly to prefer trusting to ingenuity in approaching the seals, and skill in marking them down with the gun. But he shows it to be no easy sport. The animal is uncommonly tenacious of life. Unless hit in a decidedly mortal part, it will be apt to baffle the huntsman. It is quite impossible to hit it when looking it straight in the face, for it has a trick of shying aside at the moment of firing, which never fails to protect it from harm. "One might think," he says, "that so bulky an animal could hardly contrive, at perhaps twenty or thirty yards, to get so rapidly all his body out of the course of the ball: perhaps guns that shoot wide of the mark would have the best chance of defeating the intention of this manœuvre."

If the seal have sunk, " and if the water be deep, and the bottom covered with sea-weed, we have a new class of difficulties by no means superficial to contend with, and a new source of excitement commences. Two important auxiliaries, the water-glass and the klam, are now put in requisition. The former is simply a large tub with a pane of glass fitted water-tight in its bottom; the tub is immersed an inch or so in the water, and by means of this instrument we can see tolerably clearly from six to sixteen fathoms down, seldom more; for clear water is with us still more rare than a clear atmosphere. Many a time have I wished for those limpid waters of the North Cape, where, as travellers tell us, halibut and herring may be seen twenty fathoms deep playing at hide-and-seek amongst the submarine jungles. The use of the water-glass seems to arise from its power of preventing the rays of light proceeding through it from the bottom from being affected by any agitation on the surface. After often a long and fatiguing search, the object is discovered, and the klam is had recourse to. This is a gigantic kind of forceps of peculiar construction, attached to two lines, one of which is to suspend it, the other to guide the blades; it is directed to its object by means of its helpmate the water-glass; the jaws close on the seal, and he is quickly hauled to the

surface.

But all this will not ensure success in the seal-hunt. It is not enough to be a good shot, to be well armed and supplied with every equipment; the sportsman must also be intimately acquainted with the habits of the animal, and possess great experience and address to avail himself of this knowledge. Many curious devices are put in practice to allure him within shot, and much patience and sagacity to steal upon him unperceived. Often we range along many miles of coast without meeting with a single seal; but our wanderings are through scenery the most ma

jestic. Who that has ever looked upon them can forget these naked' and primitive isles of the Northern Atlantic-their melancholy moors and lonely valleys-their stupendous precipices and foaming surges, lowering clouds and rushing malströms, where the ancient lullaby of the infant Viking was the hurricane, and his play-ground the ocean. In these wild and sequestered solitudes, unbroken by the tumults of faction and the inroads of civilisation, is to be found that untrammelled freedom about which philosophers reason, and poets sing; and it is well to refresh ourselves, in this agitated period of the march of matter, with those pure and ennobling sentiments which the presence of Nature in her sublimer aspects is calculated to inspire. If the fox-hunter has counties to scour, we have islands; if we want his woodlands and rivers, we have our rocks and ocean; instead of chargers, we have boats the finest in the world, combining symmetry, safety, and celerity. Our dogs are far superior in definite attachment and versatile intelligence to the machines of the pack; if we do not enjoy the pleasure of breaking our necks in leaping hedges, we can yet prove our mortality by capering over precipices, breasting billows, and ploughing breakers; no spring-guns, fierce keepers, or game laws, restrict the freedom of our coursing; whatever we behold, either on the land or the water, we can approach. I have repeatedly had for half an hour, under aim of an unerring gun, a seal lying within forty yards of me, and could not find it in my heart to fire; yet I had enjoyed all the enthusiasm of the hunt up to the moment of slaying, and this unalloyed pleasure in addition, of quietly observing the drowsy Triton reposing on his ocean rock, like an ancient Sea-King in his stronghold of plunder, when, withdrawing the finger from the trigger, I started him from his slumbers by a warning shout that sent him plunging into his native element, with a strong consciousness of his danger, and I hope a grateful sense of my forbearance. Taking it altogether, it is a soul-stirring hunt; the game is a noble one; his size, power, activity, sagacity, and vigilance, the slippery element in which he is pursued, presenting enough of dangers to face, and difficulties to overcome. The ingenious stratagems and judicious arrangements to ensure his capture, the rugged grandeur of the scenery of his favourite retreats, present a combination that includes every thing essential that charms us in the chase."

LYRICS OF CAPTAIN CHARLES MORRIS.* THESE volumes must come upon the general public, as they have come upon us, with the startling effect of a voice from the grave. Morris is associated with the early history of George The name of Captain Charles IV., and with many popular songs, but for forty years he has not in any way given the world reason to believe that he was a living man. We had long concluded respecting him, that he was a dead bard, when in the summer before last he surprised us by appearing in the obituaries of the newspapers, with the age of ninetythree attached to his name. in which his best pieces appear for the first time in a The present publication, collected form, may be said to be a consequence of his recent demise.

Charles Morris was born in a district called the Debateable Land, near Longtown, on the 18th of May 1746. His father was an officer in the army,

"whose naked sword,

Earn'd the poor pittance of his daily board."

The son also entered the army, and in the course of time rose to a captaincy in the Life-Guards. Of his first introduction to the Prince of Wales, we have no account before us; but it is well known that Captain Morris became a great favourite at Carlton House, and continued so for many years. As he advanced in life, having, as he says, "left the field for the haunts of the Muse," he appears to have fallen into pecuniary distress, from which he was relieved partly by the bounty of the Prince Regent, and partly by the generosity of another old friend, the Duke of Norfolk. The latter was moved to this act of kindness by an appeal from John Kemble, performed in impromptu blank verse after dinner. In a charming retreat, on the Norfolk estates in Surrey, Captain Morris passed the greater part of his green and vigorous old age, scarcely touched by any of the usual grievances of decaying mortality. Many years ago, Curran had said to him, "Die when you will, Charles, you will die young;" and the acute Irishman was a true prophet.

We confess that we have been much pleased, or rather pleasantly disappointed, by a great part of the contents of the volumes now given to the public by the friends of this veteran of the lyre. From an indistinct recollection of one or two of the songs of Captain Morris, it was our impression that his effusions were too deeply tinged with Bacchanalianism to be readable. But although many of the songs do bestow a most objectionable degree of praise on conviviality, there is little grossness in the manner of doing it; and so many re

*“Lyra Urbanica," (The Urban Lyre), by Captain C. Morris. 2 vols. Richard Bentley. London, April 1840.

flections, full of an amiable and kindly wisdom, are mixed up with the most of the pieces, that you can at once discern them to have their origin in a vein of cheerful sociality, and not to spring from a spirit of exulting intemperance. Gentle, indeed, is the Bacchanal

who thus chants :

For me, I shun what stirs the breast
Of proud and busy man,
Those fruits that leave the soul unblest,
And mock life's little span.

I cull not in those joyless fields

A crop of weeds and woe,

But pick the flowers that nature yields,
And seek them where they grow.

No wealth to me is worth a sigh,
But pure responsive love,

And man can neither bribe nor buy
That blessing from above:
From nature's heavenly hand it flows,.
Not dealt by earthly will-
The balmy plant for human woes,
Unforced by human skill.

I ask but sprightly hope at morn,
To wake at night my glee;

A life of health, through honour borne,.
With love and liberty.
While fate these precious gifts supplies,
Which heaven ne'er meant to part,
High shall my mantling goblet rise,
And grateful beat my heart.

There is more of the spirit of Horace in our author than in any peet perhaps in the English language; and this is a bold saying, though spoken advisedly. He resembles the Roman both in his qualities of heart and intellect; and, indeed, he admits again and again that he ever took the Latin lyrist as his preceptor and guide.

In childhood I prattled about him,

In youth he was ever my charm,
In manhood I ne'er stirred without him,
In age he lies under my arm.

There is much, for example, of the style of thinking and writing of the old Latin bard in the following lines, entitled

EXPERIENCE.

Oh! argue not with me, my friend,
On my gay course of living;

I take whate'er the gods will send,
And send them my thanksgiving.
I try to relish well the grace
Their mercies offer to me;
And ready meet, in every case,
All favours that they do me.

My tongue derides no moral thought,
No ribald themes now stir it;
For vice, I know, has never brought
True joy to mortal spirit.
Within, a guard of honour lies,
That ever now instructs me:
To him I turn my doubting eyes,
And safely he conducts me.

*

I've seen, when view'd the course of guilt,.
How end those who begin it,
Well know o'er shame's abyss it's built,
For fools to tumble in it.
I've seen how vainly, night and morn,
Experience shows her lesson;
How rashly vice, in wisdom's scorn,
Still seeks from sin a blessing.
**
Then think not that a man who hath
This proof to guide his rambles,
Will deviate from life's fairest path,
And stray 'mid thorns and brambles.
Think not a heart past youth will yield
The truths experience taught it;
Or throw aside a holy shield,
That age hath kindly brought it.
No!-trust me, 'midst my
cheerful day,
A sacred spirit guides me;
A holy limit bounds my way,
And duty still decides me.
This prunes my frolic Muse's wing,
Corrects my fancy's power;
Still cheers my bosom, as I sing,

And charms my jovial hour.

Then cease, my friend, your pions zeal;
You say you're grave and pensive;
To hearts thus form'd the sad to feel,
We know the gay's offensive.
But were't not better, in this case,
You joy from me should borrow,
Than I should shift my happy days,

To mope, with you, in sorrow.

If we have found comparatively little offence, particularly as regards the spirit and intention, in the festive lays of Charles Morris, justice requires that we should say the same of the songs that relate to other subjects. There is no single word in these volumes to call up a How pure, for example, is the following specimen, blush or a frown on the cheek of beauty and virtue. entitled

THE POWER OF LOVE.

No damp that mortal reason throws
Can quench true love's celestial beam;
For ever on the breast it glows,

And freshens still in memory's stream.
Through all the varied scenes we see,
Through all the joys and toils we share,
However coloured life may be,

The tender tint is ever there.

Do time and space at distance fling

Love's weakened hopes, though faintly fed ?-
Still to the dying heart they cling,

And drop not till the life be dead.

Not less pure and finished are the following lines, in advice to one who complained of unrequited af

“A vagabone thrick, for sure him and his brother and his wife and children had always three months' pleasure, any way, for intherest (though it was always added on to every fresh acciptance), and the run of the house, and shootin' and fishin' in the presarves, which, God be good to yer honour's father, war common to the counthry, as long as they gave fair play and liberty to the foxes. Oh, he was the heart's blood of a scoundrel, to put an ould friend's son to throuble for sich a thrifle."

"Well, that was twice," said the squire, when Lanty had brought his reminiscence to a close. "A third time"

"Whin yer honour was in keepin'," said the old servant, seeing his master at fault."

me.

"Ay, I remember that; that was decent of Murphy, for I was in trouble then, and he would not press I should have remembered that, Lanty," added the young squire, with one of those just impulses which spring up in every human breast; it may be to be instantly uprooted, or it may be to flourish. But with such as D'Arcy O'Rourke, the most common end is suffocation, from the pressure of other impulses of a more agreeable kind. "I should have remembered that, Lanty," he repeated," and when I did not, you should have told me of it."

"Plaise yer honour, it's hard to get spaking with ye; whin throuble's plinty, why, thin, ye toss it away, though the best way is to look into it. A bit of common paper often thickens into a parchment for want of attintion."

"Well said, old boy. The fourth time""The fourth time ye pledged yer honour ye'd take it up that day three months!"

The colour deepened on the young man's cheek. "Well, well, there, never mind; I suppose, as usual, he is right and I am wrong."

"The fifth time, Masther D'Arcy," persisted the old servant, heedless of his master's peevishness, "the fifth time, ye may remimber ye had the money ready, but you broke into it to save James Sturgon of the Forge from ruin. Don't you mind?-his wife and the children was turned out, and the things begun selling, whin you saved them; and sure the hape of blessings you got for that same through the counthry has reached the heavens long ago. Even Murphy himself said, 'Well, Masther D'Arcy has the heart of an Irish king in his bussum, any way, though he did take my money to do it with."

"His money! What did the fellow mean by that?"

"Why," answered Lanty, with Irish sophistry, "he had but yer bills, sir, till the fifth, but thin he had yer

honour."

"I tell you what," said the squire, with the sad and most pernicious principle which the dangerous wit of a Sheridan stamped into an English saying, "I tell you what, Justice is a hobbling beldame, which, for the life of me, I cannot get to keep pace with Generosity."

"More's the pity," said Lanty, not understanding fully his master's meaning; "more's the pity, for Murphy had depinded that turn intirely upon yer honour, and has never been the man he was since, which is the raison of his refusing the horse. And by the same token the sixth time he was disappointed, his mother and wife war down in the fever, and"

"Lanty," interrupted the young man, almost fiercely, "Lanty, you are an old fool, and say things on purpose to torture me. But the spirit is down in me to-day, Lanty Lurgan; and any man might insult me who pleased."

"Thin, by St Patrick!" exclaimed the servant, with true Irish zest, "I'll take the horse for yer honour." This violent outbreak, and strong language, roused the squire into a hearty laugh; but the boisterous mirth soon subsided, as it does-or more frequently changes into bitterness-when we have assisted at the formation of our own troubles; and he subsided into a deep fit of musing.

Lanty Lurgan was one of a class of Irish servants who, however privileged, never intrude. He could not bear to leave his young master, as.he would himself have expressed it," alone wid the throuble," but he had too much good taste to appear to watch his excitement; he therefore busied himself at the "far corner," "settling a place for the pet pups, the craythurs, that would be more natural in the kennel, only it's fallen in." And addressing a long confidential, and apparently interesting conversation, to their mother, an aged but beautiful long-eared spaniel called "Chloe," who, having had the luck to lose one eye, was entirely consigned to her maternal duties, ever and anon both servant and spaniel directed a sidelong glance towards their master, and then, as if by mutual consent, looked at each other.

The room and its occupants would have formed a mournful picture. There was the singularly handsome young man, seeming to all appearance more young than he really was, bowed down by the pressure of circumstances which he had then no means to alter, and which he had assisted in accumulating, without thinking of consequences that now weighed him to the very earth. His fine features were shaded by his hand from that light which he did not wish to witness his struggles, and yet their action was sufficiently marked by the convulsive efforts he made to restrain his feelings, which, though evanescent, were powerful in the extreme. The chamber, with its mingled furniture of the shreds and patches of old nobility, and

"And you too, you watching me! I suppose you are bribed by my good friend the sheriff, or my kind friend Mr Driscoll the attorney. But I'll be watched by none of you, Mister Lanty Lurgan. I'll betray myself; I'll give myself up at once, and let the fag end of what was once the principality of the D'Arcy and the O'Rourke go to for ought I care. Only mind this, old man, I'll not be watched. Do you hear?" "God knows I do, Masther D'Arcy; but how can I help it? Didn't I watch yer father from the first minute he made a horse of the big dog Bran, until I shouted for his coming of age, and joined the cry at his funeral? And didn't I watch you, God bless you! though you have scalded the heart in the ould man's breast, with raw and bitther words?-didn't I watch you in long-clothes, and out of long-clothes?-didn't I button on yer first jacket?-tache ye to load a pistol? -and drink a glass of whisky, before ye war ten years' ould, to the face of the Lord Lieftenant, whin he paid yer honour's father the visit-and didn't his lordship say he never see the like of it before? Didn't I go with ye to college, for fear you wouldn't be comfortable ?-have I ever left you, by day or night, sleepin' or wakin'?-oh! Masther D'Arcy, havn't I been thrue to ye?-to be sure, I could not help that-and been fond of ye ?-but I could not help that either! Ye may kill your poor ould slave, if you like, Masther D'Arcy, honey; but I can't help watching you—I can't, indeed. Wife and childre, and all, is gone from me off the face of the earth-all, but the mighty blessin', the masther's son. While there's light in my eyes, it will settle on you, Masther D'Arcy; and for no harm, sir- for no harm." The old man's voice faltered, and he turned to the window, weeping. In an instant the rapid current of his young master's feelings turned. Lanty felt the pressure of his hand upon his shoulder, and looked up; there was moisture in his large blue eyes. "Lanty, forgive me-forgive me. I did not mean it; you can forgive me-can you not? I have no one to speak to here, now-no one who understands me; it seems to do me good to vent my feelings-it relieves my heart. If I could only give some of those law fellows a-a-good thrashing, I should be as happy and cheerful as a prince! that I should; but it is cowardly to vent my humours on you."

"I'd not hear yer inimy say that," said the old serrant, smiling; "but abuse me to dirt, masther, honey, if it aises yer heart. I'd stand a bating, too, sir, if it would do you any good. What else are old bones like mine fit for?"

"No more of this, Lanty," answered his young master; "I am the wayward son of a wayward race, whose race is almost run. I despise myself, and am despised by others." "You are not," said Lanty.

"No one in the country would give me credit." "Oh! that's another thing," said Lanty; "but they'd all give yer honour a welcome."

"Old Ireland always gives that." "Thrue for yer honour; and whin this present debt and danger is got rid of, things will go on well again." "Look at that table," answered the young man ; "there are debts there that would swallow up half a dozen estates like mine. But the end is come!"

Lanty had so often heard the son, father, and grandfather say this, that he did not exactly believe it. The country had cried out at intervals that the D'Arcy O'Rourkes were ruined, during the last forty years; and so the old man wished to hope in spite of hope, and only said, "I'm sure, thin, yer honour would die game-keep the bailiffs off to the last ?"

66

"I don't know-only this, Lanty; it was very bad of me to give a thought to Murphy's horse; I hate myself for it. I only wanted it, and, as usual, did not think; and that plan of long credit is always uppermost in a young fellow's mind, when once he gets used to it-it's our ruin. So tell him to keep his horse, and that I hope when he sells it he will take ready money, and nothing else. When I look back at the things I have done, the meannesses I have been guilty of, to prop not so much a sinking credit, but an extravagant habit, I feel as if I could shoot myself, or any man who did the same."

Opposite to where D'Arcy O'Rourke sat was hung one of those old carved glasses, wreathed around with flowers, Cupids, and bows. Dusty though it was, he could see his own reflection in the spotted and worn surface; there was the high, brave, manly brow, the bright blue eye, the noble form, the aspect and bear ing of one who, if not born to fortune, could achieve it. Some sudden thought struck him at that moment, and he gazed earnestly upon himself. The resolve was made and taken; whether it was kept, the future will tell.

The cabin of Phelim Murphy, or, as he would have it called, the house of Phelim Murphy, was well built and comfortable for a house of its class. His youngest daughter was engaged in preparing a supper consisting of the usual potful of potatoes, which was slung on the iron crane that found refuge in the huge cavity of the chimney, so as to be on one side the fire, while over the burning embers was a broad iron griddle,

Kathleen, the second daughter, had taken unusual pains with the arrangements; the "far table" was made ready for the two farm-servants and her brother, but the "little table" was prepared for the absent ones, who had doubtless undergone much fatigue. Kathleen having done all that was necessary, sat down on "the settle," and the old house-dog having curled himself round her feet, she began to hum over an old tune to the metre of a new ballad, until the repose of the room, which would have been stillness itself but for the hissing of the kettle and the chirping of the crickets, lulled her to sleep-the ready sweet repose purchased by labour and an untroubled spirit. Kathleen would, I dare to say, have slept on until her parents' return, had she not been roused from her slumbers by a sharp growl from her friend and companion "Gruff," and, suddenly starting, she saw Lanty Lurgan, staff in hand, standing before her.

"Oh, daddy Lanty, how you did frighten me!" she exclaimed. "Oh, how could you? But," she continued, looking into the old man's face, but, daddy Lanty, what ails ye what's on ye, daddy dear? Sit down, sir. And, stay; take a drop of mother's cordial. What's with ye at all at all, daddy?"

The old man gulped down "the mother's cordial," whatever it might be, that the kind girl offered, and staggered rather than walked to the settle. "What's keepin' yer father, Kathleen?" he inquired.

66

"Sorra a bit of me can tell," answered Kathleen. "If they had come home whin they said they would, the cake wouldn't have gone to the bad, for he had this griddle mended, and wouldn't let mother get a new one at the big shop till he could pay down for it. I wish he was come, though, for you seem in throuble, daddy, and I don't like that. Whin did ye hear of the young masther, sir?" she added, coming close up to him; and, indeed, though you war angry about the horse, sure it's what father could not help. We never can let Mr D'Arcy's throuble out of our mind whin we see the notice for the sale of the lands, and all, posted up on the chapel gate last Sunday was a month. I thought the life would have left my mother; and father, though he never spoke a word, had heart sorrow on its account, and could not bear to go near the house, only little Tommy (oh, daddy Lanty, that is the bouldest devil of a child that ever broke a sister's heart with his conthrary ways)—well, he went off afther flowers or something among the woods, and meets the young masther. Sure he'd threatened to send the dogs afther him many a time, but now he stooped down, poor dear gentleman, and patted his head, and gave him a silver shilling. Take it,' he says, for ye're the child of an honest man ;' and whin Tommy danced home, flourishing his stick and shoutin' like mad, Hurra for the O'Rourkes, the ould kings of the counthry for ever!' and tould father, father laid his head down on the table, and I know he cried like a child. But Phelim Crane was here, and says that though the young masther has give up every thing, even to the watch in his pocket, he says if he was caught, he could be took and put in the jail-the devil raze it!-on account of one vagabond that has no heart in his breast. Now, Lanty, is that thrue ?" The old man said it was.

6

"Then thank God he's out of the counthry, though father does lose; but he wouldn't go forward with his claim at the latter end, and many did the same, hoping the property would hould out to pay the large ones, and the masther get free. Oh, Lanty! father sets the rights of things so before us, that though Mrs Myers has offered me credit for the pink gingham, and I havn't a tack to my back, I wont take it, because of the debt and danger! And, Lanty, I hope the masther did not lave the counthry in anger on account of the horse father refused him; that often is on my mind, Lanty, though no one thinks any thing is ever the matter with me, I'm so happy. Sure, whin I get the makings of a frock of that gingham, there wont be a happier colleen on Ireland's ground than myself."

"Poor child! poor child!" sighed the old man, and she could have echoed " poor Lanty!" for when her volubility was somewhat exhausted, and she looked and thought of the change which a few weeks had wrought in his appearance, her large grey eyes filled with tears; and the desire to relieve the sufferings of others, which is as common to the Irish peasant as the air they breathe, came upon Kathleen, and she overwhelmed the old man with questions of "What will you have?

another drop of mother's cordial, or a tumbler of father's stiff whisky punch? or, sure, daddy Lanty, I'll wet the tay for ye; and the cake is so nice and hot, with a bit of fresh butter." Then, in utter despair at the various shakes of the head that were given in reply to her questions, Kathleen clasped her hands together, and exclaimed, "Then, oh, my grief! is there nothin' I can do for ye, daddy Lanty, jewel, and ye looking so pale and poorly?"

"Nothing, Kathleen, only thank ye kindly; and sure the good man himself will be home in a few minutes any way, and it's wantin' him I am.”

"And the masther, Lanty?" she inquired, lowering her voice, “have you heard nothing from him?”