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scholars, found the utility of her wise and parental instruc but she had no doubts or fears, nor any desire, but as soon tions. They proposed to her their doubts, and consulted as God should call, “To depart, and be with Christ.' Friday ber in all their difficulties.
July 23d, about three in the afternoon, I went to see my The following letter to Mr. John Wesley will show mother, and found her change was near. I sat down on the what care his excellent mother took of her son's spiritual bed-side ; she was in her last conflict, unable to speak, but progress, and of his regular deportment through life. I believe quite sensible : her look was calm and serene,
Jan. 31, 1727.
and her eyes fixed upwards while we commended her soul « I am fully persuaded, that the reason why so
to God. From three to four, the silver cord was loosing many seek to enter into the kingdom of heaven, but are
and the wheel breaking at the cistern ; and then without not able, is, there is some Delilah, some beloved vice, they any struggle, sigh, or groan, the soul was set at liberty, will not part with; hoping that by a strict observance of
We stood, around the bed, and fulfilled her last request, uttheir duty in other things, that particular fault will be dis
tered a little before she lost her speech, Children, as soon pensed with. But, alas ! they miserably deceive themselves. Sunday, 1st of August, about five in the afternoon, in the
as I am released, sing a psalm to God.' Her age was 73. The way which leads to heaven is so narrow, the gate we nust enter is so strait, that it will not permit a man to
presence of a great number of people, I committed to the pass with one known unmortified sin about him. There
earth the body of my mother, to sleep with her fathers. The fore let every one, in the beginning of their Christian portion of Scripture from which I afterwards spoke, was, course, weigh what our Lord says, for whosoever having from whose face the earth and the heaven fied away; and
* And I saw a great white throne, and Him that sat on it, put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is not fit for the kingdom of God.'
there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, "I am nothing pleased we advised you to have your
small and great, stand before God ; and the books were plaid ; though I am that you think it too dear; because I opened ; and another book was opened which is the Book take it to be an indication that you are disposed to thrift, of Life : and the dead were judged out of those things which which is a rare qualification in a young man who has his
were written in the books, according to their works.'fortune to make. Indeed such an one can hardly be too
Rev. xx. II, 12. It was one of the most solemn as
on this side of Wary, or too careful. I would not recommend taking semblies I ever saw, or expect to see thought for the morrow any further than is needful for our
eternity. improvement of present opportunities, in a prudent manage, where so much precious dust reposes !
Mrs. Wesley was interred in Bunhill-fields burial ground, ment of those talents God has committed to our trust : and
A plain monumen. so far I think it is the duty of all to take thought for the
tal stone is placed at the head of her grave. forrow. And I heartily, wish you may be well arprized
SINGULAR CIRCUMSTANCE:-At the late Meath Asof this while life is young; for
sizes, Mr. Wallace, the eminent Barrister, in defending Believe me youth ; (for I am read in cases,
two persons named Reilly and Courtenay, against a charge And bend beneath the weight of more than fifty years.)
of conspiracy sworn against them by a Miss Smith, related, Believe me, dear son, old age is the worst time we can choose in the course of his speech, the following singular circumto mnend either our lives or our fortunes. If the founda stance :-“Gentlemen of the Jury,-I implore of you not tions of solid piety ars not laid betimes in sound principles, to place too implicit a confidence in the swearing of any and virtuous dispositions ; and if we neglect while strength human creature, when placed in a relative position with and vigour last to lay up something ere the infirmities of the person accused by the prisoners. Place not implicit age overtake us, it is a hundred to one that we shall die confidence in any human being when brought forward to both poor and wicked.
swear in their own case, where their fortunes, their lives, * Ah! my dear son, did you with me stand on the verge or their characters, are in jeopardy. There is one circumof life, and saw before you a vast expanse, an unlimited stance of my life to which I cannot recur without feelings, duration of being, which you might shortly enter, upon, may say, of repentance, of pain, and of sorrow, that I find you can't conceive how all the inadvertances, mistakes, and difficult to overcome. When I look back to the circum. sing of youth, would rise to your view! and how different stances connected with that event, and when I look around the sentiments of sensitive pleasures, the desire of sexes, here to-day, and see his Lordship on the bench before me, and the pernicious friendships of the world, would be then and two poor unfortunate peasants at that bar charged with from what they are now, while health is entire, and seems conspiracy, it brings to my recollection, with all the force to promise many years of life.”
of bitter regret, the part I acted on that occasion-an act Mrs. Wesley became a convert to her son John's opin- which I shall repent to the latest hour of my life. I was ions respecting the witness of the spirit.” He asked Mrs. at one time Counsel on one side, and his Lordship, who is Wesley whether his father had not the same evidence, and now on that bench before me, was Counsel at the other. A preached it to his people. She replied that he had it him- person of high rank and station in life was accused of a welt, and declared a little before his death, he had no dark-horrid crime; a poor peasant was his accuser ; he was tried ness nor doubt of his salvation; but that she did not re for a conspiracy, and I was retained as Counsel on his bemember to have heard him preach upon it explicitly. Mr. half. The person accused was no less a personage than a Southey here intimates, that Mrs. Welsey “ was then se- high dignitary of the church. He was of imposing mich Fenty years of age, which induces a reasonable suspicion and character he came into Court to support his own that her powers of mind had become iinpaired, or she would case; the Gospels of the Lord God were put into his hands; hot else have supposed that any other faith, or degree o. he raised his eyes to Heaven, to appeal to that God of Truth faith, was necessary, than that in which lier husband had and Sanetity, whom he was going to blaspheme, that what lived and died.” It is wisely, as well as eloqueutly said by he was about to swear was true. The solemnity he mani. Dr. Fuller, whose niece married the father of the rector of fested in taking that oath, which he knew to be false, Epworth as before mentioned ; « Of such as deny that we would induce you to exclaim at once that he was innocent.. had formerly in our churches all truth necessary to salva He took the oath, accompanying it with an appeal to Hea. tion, I ask Joseph's question to his brethren, Is your fa ven that he was innocent of the charge imputed to him by ther well ? the old man-is he yet alive? So, how fare the prisoner; yet he swore what was false. the souls of their sires, and the ghosts of their grandfathers? my brief, exclaiming that he who made the charge was a are they yet alive? do they still survive in bliss and hap- vile conspirator. The unfortunate man was found guilty, piness? Oh no! they are dead ; dead in soul, dead in and suffered an ignominious punishment.--(Here Mr. Wal. body, dead temporally, dead eternally; if so be we had lace burst into tears, and every individual in the Court was not all truth necessary to salvation before their time." deeply affected.)-Mr. Wallace, after an ineffectual endea.
Of the closing scene of Mrs. Wesley's life, her son John vour to overcome his feelings, begged pardon for being so gives the following account :-"I left Bristol on the even- affected, and concluded by giving, with perfect confidence, ing of Sunday, July 18th, 1742, and on Tuesday came to the case of his clients into their hands.” [The above al. London. I found my mother on the borders of eternity ; I ludes to the Bishop of Clogher, of infamous notoriety.]
I threw up
THE IDENTICAL LAWRIE TOD.
COLUMN FOR THE LADIES.
FORTUNATE MISTAKE.-When Miss Mellon, the prehero and the name of one of Mr. Galt's novels ; but “tho
sent Duchess of St. Albans was an actress with a company identical Lawrie" is a Mr. Thorburn, very much in charac
in Staffordshire, a dissolute son of St. Crispin, who had
made an impression on the sole of our heroine, having pri. ter resembling his grotesque double, who during the times vately enlisted in a recruiting party of light horse, on the of political persecution, left Scotland for the Vuited States, eve of departure for Liverpool, and thence to Ireland, un under a fama of rank Jacobinism. He was seen in New elopement was designed by the martial hero, and was dis. York in 1831, by Mr. Fergusson, whose amusing tour has covered in the following curious manger :-Miss Mellon lately been published, and is thus described “ I frequently
took the part of a chamber-maid one evening in an after. visited at the seed-store of Mr. Thorburn, a character of piece, and had to deliver a letter to her mistress on the
stage, for the purpose of a meeting between supposed lor. some celebrity, and of great originality, being, as he in
She had that evening, received a note from her lover, formed me, at my first interview, the “ very identical Law- which named an early hour for their meeting and depar. rie Tod" and that so far as the first volume of that enter ture. This note and the stage letter were both deposited taining work goes, Galt had exactly recorded his life and in her bosom; and in the confusion or hurry on the stage, adventures. Besides other sources of enjoyment, Mr. Thor- she gave her own instead of the stage-letter, to her mistress burn is distinguished for a lively and unfailing reliance which was immediately snatched away by the supposed upon a special over-ruling Providence—not a blind fatal- nated by a performer of the name of Porrester. Forrester
guardian, who was standing behind, and who was perso. ism, but a conviction that in all the crosses of life a bless.
on opening it, at once saw the contents, which he instantly ing will be found by those who faithfully seek it. He de- communicated to the mother and father-in-law of the cham. tailed many singular instances of this doctrine in his own bermaid-on this our heroine was put under lock and history, and altogether gratified me much by his acquain- key, till the departure of the soldier shoemaker. Some tance. His original trade was that of a nail-maker at time after this Miss Mellon was transplanted from Staffor. Dalkeith, and by that alone he looked for a livelihood in shire to the boards of Drury Lane, where she was taken by the New World Soon after his arrival, however, this the hand by Sheridan, and subsequently married Mr. Contis, handicraft was annihilated by the introduction of machine the rich banker-he died and left her a princely income of ery, and poor Thorburn was driven to open a small grocery L.70,000 a-year, and she has since united her fortune with store for subsistence to Phemie and himself. It was his the young Duke of St. Albans, who is the third Duke in practice to visit the butcher-market at a late hour, that he the kingdom, in point of rank, and now enjoys the distiumight pick up a cheap morsel ; and observing a man offer- guished title of Duchess. She is said, by her admirers, to ing plants for sale in pots seemingly like himself rather be a most amiable and most charitable woman, low in the world, Thorburn accosted him. He proved to be a fellow-countryman, an industrious, but rather unsuc
CUPID AND MINERVA. cessful market gardener, of the name of Inglis, from Kirk From Evenings in Greece, by Thomas Moore, Esque caldy; and from a sort of commiseration, Thorburn bought
No. II., just published. a rose-geranium, intending it to ornament his shop. this time he scarce knew a geranium from a cabbage.*
As Love, one summer eve, was straying, Pleased with his purchase, when he got home he painted
Who should he see at that soft hour, the pot a gay green, and placed it in his window.
But young Minerva, gravely playing
Her flute within an olive bower. now," says he, when he told me the story, with his eyes twinkling, “ Mark the kindness of Providence.
I need not say, 'tis Love's opinion,
That, grave, or merry, good or ill, after my geranium appeared in its new pot, a lady happen
The sex all bow to his dominion, ing to drive past, remarked its beauty, and not only bought
As woman will be woman still. it at a handsome price, but gave me such orders as enabled me to open a busy trade with poor Inglis. My shop soon
Though seldom yot the boy hath giveri,
To learned dames his smiles or sig lis, became more celebrated for plants than for tea and tobac
So handsome Pallas look'd, that even co; and many inquiries having been made for garden-seed,
Love quite forgot the maid was wise; I procured an assortment, and gradually extended my trade
Besides, a youth of his discerning till I reached the possession of the handsome premises and
Koew well that, by a sbady rill, flowishing trade which I now enjoy.” To Mr. Fergusson's
At sunset hour-whate'er her learningaccount of this worthy little man, we may add, that he
A woman will be woman still. lately visited his native town, after an absence of nearly
Her fute he praised in terms ecstatic, forty years, and, with other tokens of welcome, received
Wishing it dumb-nor cared hot sponthe honour of a public dinner froin his old friends and
For Wisdom's notes, how c'er chromatie,
To Love seem always out of tupe.
But long as he found lace to flatter, * SUNDAY SCHOOLS IN GLASGOW.-From a paper in this
The nymph found breath to shake and thrill; month's Sunday-School Teacher's Magazine, we leam,
As, weak or wise-it doth not matter that Glasgow, which contains above 200,000 inhabitants,
Woman, at heart, is woman still. has about 20 Sabbath-School Associations, 10 of which are
Love changed his plan, with warmth exclaiming, parochial, and the others connected with the different reli.
“ How brilliant was her lips' soft dye!" gious bodies. The number of schools is about 200, con
And much that flute, the sly rogue, blaming, taining about 9000 children, most of them having from
For twisting lips so sweet awry. 20 to 40 scholars each. The schools are generally open
The nymph look'd down--beheld her features only in the evening, when the teachers spend about two
Reflected in the passing rill, hours with their pupils, which are devoted to the exercises
And started, shock'd-for, ah, ye creatures! of praise and prayer, hearing the Bible read and explained,
Ev'a when divine, you're woman still. and in repeating Scripture lessons and catechising. Reading
Quick from the lips it inade so odious, is rarely taught, except by the Wesleyan Methodists. Some
That graceless flute the Goddess took, of these schools have itinerating libraries of 20 or 30 vo
And, while yet fill'd with breath melodious, lumes cach, which are exchanged annually, and given out
Flung it into the glassy brook ; to the children once a fortnight.
Where, as its vocal life was fleeting
, This for a native of Dalkçith, thercry Scotch Palace of Flora, is
At distance long 'twas heard repeating impossiblemen,
“ Woman, alaa, vain woman still !"
I will not crave your pardon, gentle reader, for dwellTUBBER DERG ;
ing at such length upon a scene so dear to my heart as OR, THE RED WELL.
this, because I write not now so much for your gratifica
tion as my own. Many an eve of gentle May have I pul. On the south side of a sloping tract of light ground, led the May-gowans which grew about that well
, and over
that smooth meadow. kirely, warm, and productive, stood a white, moderate-sized
Often have I raised my voice to farm-house, which, in consequence of its conspicuous situa- its shrillest pitch, that I might hear its echoes rebounding tion, was a prominent, and, we may add, a graceful object in the bottom of the green and still glen, where silence, so in the landscape of which it formed a part.
to speak, was deepened by the continuous murmur of the whereon it stood was a swelling natural terrace, the soil of cascade above ; and when the cuckoo uttered her first note which was heavier and richer than that of the adjoining from among the hawthorns on its side, with what tremlands. On each side of the house stood a clump of old bling anxiety did I, an urchin of some eight or nine years, beeches, the only survivors of that species then remaining look under my right foot, for the white hair, whose charm in the country. These beeches extended behind the house
was such, that by keeping it about me, the first female nam ina kind of angle, with opening enough at their termina
I should hear was destined, I believed in my soul, to be Lion to form a vista, through which its white walls gliss and mellow the whistle of the blackbird, as they rose in the
that of my future wife. Sweet was the song of the thrush, tened with beautiful effect in the calm splendour of a summer evening. Above the mound on which it stood, rose
stillness of the evening over the “ birken shaws" and green two steep hills, overgrown with furze and fern, except on
dells of this secluded spot of rural beauty. Par, too, could *their tops, which were clothed with purple heath; they and meadows, as, with a little chubby urchin at his knee,
the rich voice of Owen M'Carthy be heard along the hills *were also covered with patches of broom, and studded with and another in his arms, he sat on a bench beside his own
grey rocks, which sometimes rose singly or in larger masses, door, singing the “ Trougha,” in his native Irish ; whilst pointed or rounded into curious and fantastic shapes. Ex. actly between these hills the sun went down during the
Kathleen his wife, with her two maids, each crooning a low month of Jane, and nothing could be in finer relief than song, sat before the door, milking the cows, whose sweet the rocky and picturesque outlines of their sides, as, crown
breath mingled its perfume with the warm breeze of even
ing. ed with thorns and clumps of wild ash, they appeared to overhang the valley whose green foliage was gilded by the
Owen M'Carthy was descended from a long line of hosun-beams, which lit up the scene into radiant beauty. nest ancestors, whose names had never, within the memory The bottom of this natural chasm, which opened against of man, been tarnished by the commission of a mean or disthe deep crimson of the evening sky, was nearly upon a
reputable action. They were always a kind-hearted family, | level with the house, and completely so with the beeches that but stern and proud in the common intercourse of life.
surrounded it. Brightly did the sinking sun fall upon their They believed themselves to be, and probably were, a tops
, whilst the neat white house below, in their quiet branch of the Mac Carthy More stock; and, although only shadow, sent up its wreath of smoke among their branches, the possessors of a small farm, it was singular to observe itxelf an emblem of contentment, industry, and innocence the effect which this conviction produced upon their bearIt was, in fact, a lovely situation ; perhaps the brighter to ing and manners. To it might, perhaps, be attributed the Re, that its remembrance is associated with days of happi- high and stoical integrity for which they were remarkable. ness and freedom from the cares of a world, which, like a
This severity, however, was no proof that they wanted distant mountain, darkens as we approach it, and only feeling, or were insensible to the misery or sorrows of others : exhausts us in struggling to climb its rugged and barren in all the little cares and perplexities that chequered the paths.
peaceful neighbourhood in which they lived, they were There was to the south-west of this house, another little ever the first to console, or, if necessary, to support a dishazel glen, that ended in a precipice formed by a single tressed neighbour with the means which God had placed in rock some thirty feet high, over which tumbled a crystal their possession ; for, being industrious, they were seldom cascade into a basin worn in its hard bed below. From poor. Their words were few, but sincere, and generally this basin the stream murmured away through the copse- promised less than the honest hearts that dictated them inWood, until it joined a larger rivulet that passed, with tended to perform. There is in some persons a hereditary mang a winding, through a fine extent of meadows adjoin- feeling of just principle, the result neither of education, nor ing it. Across the foot of this glen, and past the door of the of a clear moral sense, but rather a kind of instinctive house we have described, ran a bridle road, from time im- honesty which descends, like a constitutional bias, from memorial ; on which, as the traveller ascended it towards father to son, pervading every member of the family. It is the house, be appeared to track his way in blood, for a difficult to define this, or to assign its due position in the chaly beate spa arose at its head, oozing out of the earth, scale of human virtues. It exists in the midst of the grossand spread itself in a crimson stream over the path in every est ignorance, and influences the character in the absence spot whereon a footmark could be made. From this cir- of better principles. Such was the impress which marked cumstance it was called Tubber Derg, or the Red Well. so strongly the family of which I speak. No one would In the meadow where the glen terminated, was another ever think of imputing a dishonest act to the M'Carthys; spring of delicious crystal; and clearly do I remember the nor would any person acquainted with them, hesitate for a fer-beaten path-way that led to it through the grass, and moment to consider their word as good as the bond of up the green field which rose in a gentle slope to the happy- another. I do not mean to say, however, that their motives looking house of Owen M'Carthy,-for so was the man called of action were not higher than this instinctive honesty ; far who resided under its peaceful roof,
from it: but I say, that they possessed it in addition to a
strong feeling of family pride, and a correct knowledge of his garden was not now planted so early, nor with such their moral duties.
taste and neatness as before ; his crops were later, and lea I can only take up Owen M'Carthy at that part of the abundant; his haggards neither so fall nor so trim as they past to which my memory extends. He was then a tall, were wont to be, nor his ditches and enclosures hep: in srá fine-looking young man; silent, but kind. One of the
good repair. His cars, ploughs, and other farming im, leearliest events within my recollection is his wedding; after ments, instead of being put under cover, were left express that the glimpse of his state and circumstances are imper
to the influence of wind and weather, where they soon be. fect; but, as I grew up, they became more connected, and
came crazy and useless. I am able to remember him the father of four children ; an industrious, inoffensive, small farmer, beloved, respected, bootless struggle against the general embarrassigent inte
Such, however, were only the slighter symptoms of Lis and honoured. No man could rise, be it ever so early, who would not find Owen up before him; no man could antici- which the agricultural interests were, year after year, as pate him in an early crop, and if a widow or a sick ac
unha ppily sinking. quaintance were unable to get in their harvest, Owen was
Had the tendency to general distress aniong the class o certain to collect the neighbours to assist them; to be the which he belonged become stationary, Owen wonld base first there himself, with quict benevolence, encouraging continued, by toil and incessant exertion, to maintain ku them to a zealous performance of the friendly task in which ground; but, unfortunately, there was no point at wk..? they were engaged.
the national depression could then stop.
Year after It was, I believe, soon after his marriage, that the lease produced deeper, more extensive, and more complicats of the farm held by him expired. Until that time he had misery ; and when he hoped that every succeeding sex. been able to live with perfect independence; but even the would bring an improvement in the market, he was desired enormous rise of one pound per acre, though it deprived
to experience not merely a fresh disappointment, but I him in a great degree of his usual comforts, did not sink unexpected depreciation in the price of his corn, lutter, ! him below the bare necessaries of life. For some years other disposable commoilities. after that he could still serve a deserving neighbour; and
When a nation is reduced to such a state, no eye but tat never was the hand of Owen M.Carthy held back from the of God himself can see the appalling wretchedness to which wants and distresses of those whom he knew to be honest. a year of disease and scarcity strikes down the poor and
working classes. Many similar details of Owen M'Carthy's useful life could
Owen, after a long and noble contest for nearly three be given, in which he bore an equally benevolent and years, sank, at length, under the united calamities of diChristian part. Poor fellow! he was, ere long, brought
ease and scarcity. The father of the family was laid low low; but to the credit of our peasantry, much as is said upon the bed of sickness, and those of his little ones who about their barbarity, he was treated, when helpless, with escaped it were almost consumed by famine. This two-1 gratitude, pity, and kindness.
shock sealed his ruin; his honest heart was crushed his Until the peace of 1814, Owen's regular and systematic hardy frame shorn of its strength, and he to whom etery industry enabled him to struggle successfully against a neighbour fled as to a friend, now required friendship thes weighty rent and sudden depression in the price of agricul- the wide-spread poverty of the country rendered its assisttural produce ; that is, he was able, by the unremitting
ance hopeless. toil of a man remarkable alike for an unbending spirit and
On rising from his bed of sickness, the prospect before a vigorous frame of body, to pay his rent with tolerable re
him required his utmost fortitude to bear. He was nov gularity. It is true, a change began to be visible in his
wasted in energy both of mind and body, reduced to uter personal appearance, in his farm, in the dress of his child poverty, with a large family of children, too young to de ren, and in the economy of his househeld. Improvements sist him, without means of retrieving his circumstances
, hus which adequate capital would have enabled him to effect, wife and himself gaunt skeletons, his farm neglected, bis were left either altogether unattempted, or in an imperfect house wrecked, and his offices falling to ruin, yet every state resembling neglect, though, in reality, the result of day bringing the half-year's term nearer! Oh, ye who rios poverty. His dress at mass, and in fairs and markets, had, by degrees, lost that air of comfort and warmth which be- circle of fashionable life, think upon this picture! Yo vibe
on the miseries of such men-ye who roll round the easy speaks the independent farmer. The evidences of embar- and heartless landlords, who see not, hear not, know no rassment began to disclose themselves in many small points, those to whose heart-breaking toil ye owe the only meri inconsiderable, it is true, but not the less significant. His house, in the progress of his declining circumstances, ceased this virtuous man, as unfriended, unassisted, and unche red
ve possess—that of rank in society—come and contemplate to be annually ornamented by a new coat of whitewash; by those who are bound by a strong moral duty to protect it soon assumed a faded and yellowish hue, and sparkled and aid him, he looks shuddering into the dark cheerless not in the setting sun as in the days of Owen's prosperity. future! Is it to be wondered at that he, and such as he, It had, in fact, a wasted, unthriving look, like its master; should, in the misery of his despair, join the nightly meet
. the thatch became black and rotten upon its roof, the chim- ings, be lured to associate himself with the incendiary
, or neys sloped to opposite points, the windows were less neat
, seduced to grasp, in the stupid apathy of wretchedness
, the and, ultimately, when broken, were patched with a couple weapon of the murderer? By neglecting the people
, bis of leaves from the children's blotted copy books. His out. draining them, withi merciless rapacity, of the means of houses also began to fail ; the neatness of his little farm-yard, life; hy goading them on under a cruel system of rack and the cleanliness which marked so conspicuously the space
rents, ye become not their natural benefactors, but curses fronting his dwelling-house, disappeared in the course of
and scourges, nearly as much in reality as se are in thell time. Filth began to accumulate where no filth had been ;
When Owen rose, he was driven by hunger, direct and acushla machree--but that's gone long ago--och, don't ax immediate, to sell his best cow; and having purchased me to stop. Isn't your lightsome laugh, whin you wor come oatmeal at an enormous price, from a well-known young, in my ears? and your step that 'ud not bend the d'votee in the parish, who hoarded up this commodity for Power of the field_Kathleen, I can't, indezd I can't bear a " dear summer," he laid his plans for the future, with as to think of what you wor, nor of what you are now, when, Duch judgment as any man could display. One morning in the coorse of age and natur, but a small change ought after breakfast he addressed his wife as follows :
to be upon you! Sure I ought to make every struggle to * Kathleen, mavourneen, I want to consult wid you take you and these sorrowful crathurs out of the state about what we ought to do ; things are low wid us, asthore, you're in." and except our Heavenly Father puts it into the heart of The children flocked about them, and joined their en. thea I'm goin' to mention, I don't know what we'll do, treaties to those of their niother. “Father, don't lave us yer what 'ill become of these poor crathurs that's naked and we'll be lonesome if you go, and if my mother 'ud get hungry about us. God pity them; they don't know—and unwell, who'd be to take care of her? Father, don't lave maybe that same's some comfort--the hardships that's be your own “weeny crathurs,' (a pet naine he had for them) fore them. Poor crathur's, see how quiet and sorrowful they
-maybe the meal 'ud be eat out before you'd come back; sit about their little play, passin' the time for themselves as
or maybe something 'ud happen you in that strange place." well as they can! Alley, acushla machree, come over to
“ Indeed there's truth in what they say, Owen,” said the me. Your hair is bright and fair, Alley, and curls so pur- wife : “ do be said by your own Kathleen for this time, tily that the finest lady in the land might envy it, but, and don't take sich a long journey upon you. Afther all, acushla, your colour's gone, your little hands are wasted maybe, you would'nt see him ; sure the nabours will help away, too ; that sickness was hard and sore upon you, a. colleen machree, and he that ’ud spend his heart's blood for
us, if you could only humble yourself to ax them!” you, darlin', can do nothing to help you!"
“ Kathleen," said Owen, “ when this is past, you'll be He looked at the child as he spoke, and a slight motion feelin' of your hearts, darlins. Who knows what the land
glad I went_indeed you will; sure it's only the tindher in the muscles of his face was barely perceptible ; but it lord may do when I see himself, and show him these repassed away, and, after kissing her, he proceeded :
sates every penny paid him by our own family. Let me Ay, ye crathurs—you and I, Kathleen, could earn our
go, acushla ; it does cut me to the heart to laave yees the bread for ourselves yet, but these can't do it. This last
way yees are in, even for a while; but it's far worse to see stroke, darlin', has laid us at the door of both poverty and your poor wasted faces, widout havin' it in my power to sickness, but blessed be the Mother of Heaven for it, they're do any thing for yees." all left wid us; and sure that's a blessin' we've to be thank
He then kissed them again, one by one; and pressing ful formglory be to God!"
the affectionate partner of his sorrows to his breaking " Ay, poor things, it's well to have them spared, Owen heart, he bade God bless thein, and set out in the twilight dear, sure I'd rather a thousand times beg fron door to
of a bitter March morning. He had not goné many yards door, and have my childher to look at, than be in comfort from the door when little Alley ran after him in tears; he widout them."
felt her hand upon the skirts of his coat, which she plucked “ Kathleen,” said he, at length, “in the name of God I'll with a smile of affection that neither tears nor sorrow go; and may his blessin' be about you, asthore machree, could repress. “Father, kiss me again,” said she. He and guard you and these darlins till I come back to yees,” stooped down and kissed her tenderly. The child then as
Kathleen's faithful heart could bear no more; she laid cended a green ditch, and Owen, as he looked back, saw herself on his bosom-clung to his neck, and, as the parting her standing upon it; her fair tresses were tossed by the kiss was given, she wept aloud, and Owen's tears fell si. blast about her face, as with straining eyes she watched lently down his worn cheeks. The children crowded him receding from her view. Kathleen and the other about them in loud wailings ; and the grief of this virtuous children stood at the door, and also with deep sorrow and aflicted family was of that profound description, which watched his form, until the angle of the bridle road, renis ever the companion, in such scenes, of pure and genuine dered him no longer visible; after which they returned love.
slowly to the fire and wept bitterly. "Owen !" she exclaimed “Owen, a-suilish mahuil agus
We believe no men are capable of bearing greater toil or machree ! I doubt we wor wrong in thinkin' of this privation than the Irish. Owen's viaticum was only two Journey. How can you, mavourneen, walk all the way or three oaten cakes tied in a little handkerchief, and a to Dublin, and you so worn aud weakly wid that sickness, few shillings in silver to pay for his bed. With this small and the bad feedin' both before and since? Och, give it stock of food and money, an oaken stick in his band, and up, achree, and stay wid us—let what will happen. You're his wife's kerchief tied about his waist, he undertook a not able for sich a journey, indeed you're not. Stay wid journey of one hundred and eighty miles in quest of a landme and the childher, Owen ; sure we'd be so lonesome wid
lord who, so far from being acquainted with the distresses out you—will you, agrah ? and the Lord will do for us
of his tenantry, scarcely knew even their names, and not some other way, maybe.”
one of them in person. Owen pressed his faithful wife to his heart, and kissed
Our scene now changes to the metropolis. One evening, her chaste lips with a tenderness wbich the heartless vo
about half past six o'clock, a toil-worn man turned his taries of fashionable life can never know.
steps to a splendid mansion in Mountjoy-square ; his ap“Kathleen, astbore," he replied, in those terms of en
pearance was drooping, fatigued, and feeble. As he went dearment which flow so tenderly through the language of along, he examined the numbers on the respective door's, the people— sure whir I remember your fair young face until he reached one--before which he stopped for a mo-your yellow hair, and the fight that was in your eyes, ment; he then stepped out upon the street, and looked
through the windows, as if willing to ascertain whether Light of by eyes and of my heart,
there was any chance of his object being attained. Whilst