Illustrated Article. THE MOUNTAIN PASS. AN OUTLAW'S TALE. "My father was a soldier. He was a tall and handsome fellow; frequented fairs and wakes, and hurling-matches; and, by all accounts, was handier with the cudgel than the spade. From his wild, unsettled habits, a dragoon officer, who accidentally met with him while grouse-shooting on the moors, easily persuaded him to enlist. He did so, and left his native mountains, and while on detachment in an English village, married the daughter of a wealthy yeoman, who discarded her for the match. She followed her husband to Flanders; he fell in battle; and my mother having conveyed me to my uncle's house, died. there soon after, leaving me in his care. "My uncle was the parish priest: he was a kind-hearted simple man. Having no near relative but myself, he became much attached to me as I grew VOL. IX. See p. 226 up, and formed the resolution of educating me for his church, that I might assist him when old, and eventually succeed him in the parish. Poor man! his stock of learning was not so extensive; but such as it was, he took care to impart it to his nephew. "From my infancy I felt averse to the idea of becoming a priest. I suppose my father's habits had descended to me. I would follow a grouse-shooter all day; or employ myself in digging for foxes ir. the hills, and spearing otters in the river. If an eagle's airie was to be robbed, I must be present at the perpetration. I fished with skill; and, for my opportunities, none shot better. I was sent for to all hurlingmatches, and, at foot-ball was considered to be unrivalled. All this was but a poor preparation for divinity; but I was unsuited for the cowl, and circumstances occurred which made me abandon the church for ever. "My uncle's parish was one of the remotest in Erris; it was separated by 237 a chain of mountains, from the more open parts of the country; and, besides the peasantry and fishermen, there was but one family of the better order within the limits of his spiritual charge. This was a gentleman's of ruined fortune. He had been in early life extravagant, and having destroyed a property which came to him overloaded with debts, he had been forced in his declining years, to retire to the miserable remnant of his patrimony, a large mountain farm, situated by the side of my uncle's. "Mr. Percival had an only daughter; like her parent, she had seen happier days; but she had cheerfully followed him to his retirement, and every exertion of her's was used to make their humble home comfortable, and render his declining years as happy as their limited means would permit. There was naturally an intimacy between the priest and his principal parishioner. They were every day together; and Agnes Percival and I, became inseparable companions. She was a young, artless, interesting girl, and before I even suspected danger, I found that I loved her passionately. I never once considered that a barrier was placed between us which could never be removed by me. I was an orphan, a dependant; my uncle had not saved, as I believed, a shilling from his small income; for he was hospitable and humane, and consequently his parish was scarcely able to support him. I was destined for a churchman-I had no other hope in life. My uncle was well stricken in years, and if he could defray my education at Maynooth College, it was the utmost I could expect from him. Yet I madly persevered in loving. "The Fathers,' and the few dull tomes of dogmatic theology, which formed my uncle's library, were abandoned for Shakspeare, and some lighter books; which Percival had brought with him. My time was spent in killing game and fish, for presents to my mistress-or in wandering on the sea-shore-or reading by the side of a mountain stream, the magic pages of the bard of Avon; and when twilight fell, I mused on imaginary days of happiness, which, in all probability, I was never fated to realize. "But this dream was soon to be dissolved. I had spent the evening with Agnes; our conversation had been free and unreserved; we sat on the heathy bank of the little garden, which, with my assistance, she had formed. Insensibly I became excited, till, throw ing off all restraint, I confessed my secret attachment, and implored her to return my love. Her face was crimsoned-her eyes were filled with tears; she trembled and was agitated; and I was kneeling at her feet when, at the moment, Percival stood before us; his countenance flushed with rage ;-he shook with violent passion-he indignantly cursed my presumption, upbraided me with my poverty; scorn-, fully contrasted his daughter's family with mine, and then ordering me to quit his presence, he took Agnes harshly by the arm, and hurried her from my sight, leaving me rooted to the spot. When I recovered my recollection, I hurried to the shore and for some hours wandered among the rocks. It was dark when I returned to my uncle's; Percival had been there, and from the priest's manner I could easily guess, that he had received from the father of Agnes no favourable account of the evening scene in his garden. The old man reproached me with duplicity; I had deceived him. He had educated me carefully for the priesthood, and I was about to throw away an opportunity of settling myself for life. "I was silent, and he marked my irresolution. Pat,' said he, with much emotion, I have hitherto been a father to you, and out of a small income, I saved this purse for your college expenses.' He took out from his bureau an old glove, filled with old coins and a few bank-notes. 'I have promised Mr. Percival, that you shall leave this place to-morrow. Enter Maynooth forth with; take this, it will defray your expenses there; come back to me a student, or never come again.' So saying, he rose abruptly, entered his little sleeping-room, bolted the door, and left me standing in the kitchen, with the old glove filled with dues and offerings in my hand. "Left to myself, I quickly formed my determination. I collected my small stock of linen, wrote a tender epistle to Agnes; bidding her adieu, and telling her that for her I had left home and kindred; entrusted my letter to an idiot boy who lived with my uncle, and with my bundle over my shoulder, and the priest's purse in my pocket, I started; crossed the mountains by moonlight, and ere morning dawned, had reached the town of Ballinagh, and finding a recruiting party there, I enlisted, and entered the dragoon guards. "A year passed away. My squadron was quartered in Ballinroben; my fate was unknown to my friends; and my poor uncle little thought that the youth he had destined for theology, had abandoned the Church for the riding-house, I was already made a corporal, and was a general favourite with the regiment. "One evening I was cleaning my appointments at the stable-door, when I perceived a wild-looking lad, wandering through the barrack-yard, and staring at every dragoon he passed. His appearance was familiar to me. I approached him, and discovered the well-known features of little Martin, my uncle's idiot servant. The poor creature uttered a cry of delight, and with strange grimaces and great caution, gave me a sealed letter. I broke it open, my heart beat, my cheeks burned as I read it. It was from Agnes. She told me that I had been recognized by a herd, while driving cattle from the mountains to an inland fair-she im plored me, if I still loved her, to return to her without a moment's delay. Percival had determined to marry her to a wealthy trader from Galway; he was old, ugly, dissipated, and disagreeable, but he was immensely rich, and had offered settlements which her father had accepted. The suitor was now absent, completing all arrangements for the marriage and her removal to Galway; and on the third evening, unless I found means to prevent it, she would be a bride. "I had a comrade, who had since I joined the regiment been my bosom friend. I shewed him Agnes's letter. By his advice I applied to the commanding officer for a few days' leave of absence. Unfortunately the colonel was absent, and the major was cross and gouty. He refused me. I attempted to expostulate and plead my cause; but he cut matters short by swearing he would send me to drill for my impertinence. My blood, already in a fever, now boiled with rage, and I determined to desert that night. Accordingly, I conveyed by Martin a suit of coloured clothes, which I had fortunately preserved, to a public-house in the town, told my friend my desperate resolution, and, unmoved by his remonstrances, once more put the priest's purse in my pocket, and waiting till all was quiet, scaled the wall, changed my dress, and, accompanied by Martin, left the dragoon guards, as I had left my uncle's house, by moonlight. "We walked all night, and to avoid pursuit, rested during the day. On the third morning, [the morning of that night which would see Agnes united to another, I gained the mountain pass above my uncle's house. I stopped to rest myself, and contrive some plan for seeing my mistress privately, when suddenly one of my former companions appeared below, and, waving his hand, hurried up the hill to meet me he had been watching for me. "The news of my desertion had already reached the mountains; for on the same night an officer's room had been plundered of a considerable sum; and as I had been observed counting money where I had changed my dress, I was suspected to be the thief, and a military party had been dispatched after me. Heavens and earth! accused of theft; and how strongly would circumstances tell against me! I had unfortunately been remarked by the publi can reckoning my uncle's purse, and from my flight, no wonder I was denounced as the robber of the barrackroom. 2 "What was to be done? I dared not to approach the village, lest I should be seen and apprehended, and in a few hours Agnes would be lost to me for ever. I told my friend my situation, and showed him the priest's purse, with my uncle's name on the notes, and at once removed any suspicion which might be attached to me for the felony, My friend took a warm interest in my affairs, and leaving me concealed in a ravine, hastened to collect my young friends, and to consult with them which was the best course to pursue in my present emergency. "I remained in my retreat till evening, when Austin Malley, my friend, returned. He brought me refreshments, and also the welcome news that he had seen my mistress, and removed from her mind the disgraceful charge of robbery which had been insinuated against me. He told me that Percival had heard of my desertion, and, alarmed at it, was determined that the Galway trader, who had just arrived, should be married that night to Agnes, and set off next morning for his own residence with the bride. Austin had sounded my old comrades, and found them ardent to evince their affection by assisting me in this my hour of need. We held a council of war, and it was resolved that Agnes should be carried off that night. "Late in the evening I left my place of concealment, and by the light of a full harvest moon approached the dwelling of my mistress. About a dozen fine able young fellows were waiting for me, well mounted and armed. We left our horses in a hollow, and with Austin and half a dozen of his friends, advanced to Percival's house. All within was noise, and joy, and revelry; the servants were dancing in the kitchen the guests were drinking in the parlour; and this being the room where the principal company assembled, it was literally crowded. "Conolly had brought a strange priest with him; for my uncle's being apprised of Agnes' aversion to the marriage, had refused to perform the ceremony. Suddenly there was a bustle among the company; the priest put on his vestments, and the missal was open in his hand; the doughty bridegroom was vainly endeavouring to bring my handsome mistress forward, when I burst into the apartment. The women uttered a tremendous yell; the men pressed on to see what had caused this unexpected interruption. I threw them aside right and left, until I gained the place where the bride was standing. In vain Conolly interposed.-I hurled him to the end of the chamber, and, lifting Agnes in my arms, carried her faint ing to the door. In vain Percival and Conolly's friends would have tore her from my grasp. My comrades seconded me gallantly, and covered my retreat until we reached our horses, when, mounting with the bride, we spurred them to a gallop, and defied pursuit. "Next day I made Agnes my wife. We were obliged to leave the country and conceal ourselves in the mountains here; and through the winter we have had a perilous and wretched life. I need not conceal that necessity obliged me to lead a lawless band; but, except in prosecuting contraband adventures, I never commanded or joined them. I restrained them from robbery, and prevented the commission of any act of violence. "Gibbons and Garland, two of the band, were my deadly enemies. The former attempted to deprive me of the command; but, in a personal conflict, I defeated and disarmed him. The other ruffian, who fell by my hand, way-laid and fired at me a few days since. I saw him steal from his ambush; but I had devoted him to death. I overheard him, with Gibbons, plotting my murder, and, what sealed his fate with me, the violation of my wife." The outlaw's face flushed as he alluded to the intended injury of Agnes. "But, Dwyer, why did you interest yourself for me? I was a stranger to you, and you owed me no favours. "Pardon me, captain," said the outlaw, "I did, and a heavy obligation it was. Last winter, on a desperate snowy night, you surprised the cabin where I was sleeping. I had hardly a moment to conceal myself. There was a hollow in the wall beside the pallet where my wife and I lay, into which I crept. She, alarmed, shrank to that side, and effectually hid me. You entered; the soldiers searched the cabin ; their information of my being there was positive; and, irritated at not finding me, they attempted to remove the bedcovering from my wife, and even threatened to pull down the roof. My poor wife was nearly dead with terror. You approached the humble pallet where she lay, Fear not, my girl; I would rather a dozen ribbon-men escaped than one unprotected female should be injured; yourself and your poor hut shall be respected. Turn out, lads!' and bidding my wife' good night,' you took the men away and left the hovel. "I then swore that I would repay the life you unintentionally saved; and when I saw you, I stopped the spy who was hastening to apprise Gibbons and Garland of your being in their power. Both had vowed to be revenged on you, for you had often exposed them to imminent danger, by following them in dark and stormy nights, when they did not believe that the soldiers would leave their quarters. "And now, Dwyer, what can be done for you? said Kennedy. "Let me go with you," said the outlaw. "Let me, by loyal and honest service, prove that necessity, not choice, led me to oppose the laws. "Your wish shall be granted; you shall be enrolled in my own company." The outlaw bowed in grateful acknowledgments; and, on arriving at head-quarters, the commanding officer received Dwyer into the 28th, and promised him his protection. AN opinion may be formed of the comparative difference in the expense of housekeeping in the different counties of England from a statement lately made by a lady residing at Penzance, Cornwall, in a letter to a friend at Chichester, in which she said she had for dinner a small turbot and a duck, which together cost her 1s. 8d. ANCIENT POETS OF THE SIXTEENTH existence, decked in those hues which CENTURY. FOR THE OLIO. SONNET. Cupid and my Campaspe played RARELY, in this pilgrimage of chequered events, where sorrow and care cast their shadows both in advance and retrospect; while happiness discloses its transient sunburst, scarcely seen till vanishing; rarely have I experienced sweeter and deeper enjoyment than the occasional glimpses of old times, places, and persons, with which memory indulges me ; and surely, it is no idle speculation (all admit it is delightful,) thus to acquire, by habit, the power of summoning from 'the years beyond the flood,' the shades of departed pleasures; to recover, in imagination, all the cheerful-all the familiar-all the beloved of our by-gone feeling knows how to make so brilliant in compensation for their being so evanescent. What is this, but to redeem what death, time, or distance, have cruelly torn from us? What is it but to defy, and in some measure, to baffle all the changes and chances of this mortal life-to double, treble, quadruple our moral existence? to carry about with us a talisman, at whose mystic touch delight springs up as a pleasant plant in the bosom, that misfortune hath made cold and sterile ?-to possess an immortal elixir, by which, at the brink of the gloomy grave, in the very shadows of the valley of death, youth, glowing, hopeful, careless youth, unfolds its painted landscapes redolent of vigour and joy? For my part, I esteem it a choice gift of Providence, when I am permitted (for it comes not at command) to release my mind from the present, that it may dreamily luxuriate in the past. For this purpose, my rambles are chiefly directed to those scenes that my boyhood haunted; and thus even the remains of old- Hall, whose cupola'd form I never saw without all the qualms of a schoolboy, excite in me a thrill of sorrow and delight, succeeded by such a pageant of thick coming fancies and remembrances that I can hardly tear myself from the spot. But nothing affects me more powerfully than the recollections associated with the old Residentiary House, where my sister was born, and where I first tried my infant paces on the floor. It was built by Bishop Halse, about the close of the fifteenth century; and at that period, they used to dine in its huge hall, in the collegiate manner. It is supposed to have been one of the earliest brick buildings in the kingdom. What a quaint old labyrinth it was of halls, galleries, and closets!Who can forget the deep porch, with its stone seats; the enormous door of black polished oak, carved in old Roman arches, with iron studs; the gloomy brick vestibule; the vast hall with its wide transomed windows, hung round with portraits and landscapes; the blaze of its Christmas fireplace, and the shadowy rings that the great lantern from the centre of the roof flung on the shimmering floor? From hence, doors and stairs opened in all directions; here ascending to a lurking passage that led, with many a twist, to the parlour, the drawing-room, and that |