THE BLACK ROCK.

GENTLE READER, art thou disposed to melancholy? If thou art, I shall give thee wherewithal to nourish it. Start not when I tell thee that the sorrows and the joys of the Hermit are nearly over! My days, in reality, are numbered: I am about to be gathered to my fathers, and all the instructive observations, all the amusing incidents, which I had treasured up for your improvement or gratification, are destined to pass away with me. I am at this moment the condemned, but submissive, instrument of the doctor. Friends have been sent adrift-conversation prohibited-animal food denied the cheering bottle removed-and the Black Rock recommended to me as a place in which the little remnant of life may wear out tranquilly. The

privilege of wielding the grey goose quill-that potent weapon that mighty instrument of little men'this privilege I was anxious to retain. I had much to say to the world before my departure: I had some long confessions to make, and some good advice to impart. My medical guide, however, would not hear of it. Among other things, I was bent on leaving after me a sort of general satire, to show that, if mankind were vicious or silly, there was one, at least, who stood exempt from the common failing. This, I thought, was due to my character and my memory. I hinted something of it to the doctor: he frowned, and retired. Next day I began an expostulatory epistle: it was in verse, and I felt certain that it must soften him :

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I had got thus far when he enter ed: he glanced at the paper. You have not long,' said he, to remain here, and an attempt like what you mention would shorten your time by at least one half:-go to the fields, and take a gentle walk.'

I arose with a sigh, put on my studying head-dress (I mean my Macassar goat-skin cap), and, after strolling slowly up my favourite green lane, I reached the open fields that lie between the Rock and Stillorgan. The little walk had already fatigued me: I laid me down upon a green bank beneath the shelter of some spreading hawthorns: I drew from my pocket a little volume of Poems, by various Authors.' Chance led me to the Pastoral Ballads' of the gentle Shenstone. I began Ye Shepherds, so cheerful and gay,' and proceeded nearly to the conclusion, when, looking up, I, for the first time, perceived that I was in reality a shepherd. Se

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veral flocks of sheep were browsing quietly around me,-apparently they had no guide or guardian but myself.

This indeed,' said I, 'is a sign-a pleasing illusion before death-it is well, however! let me expire in the midst of pastoral joys and rural dreams.' Whose sheep are these?' said a stranger who passed. 'Mister Saurin's,' replied a young voice from a bush just beside me. The spell at once was broken-a stately mansion, surrounded with thriving plantations, stood directly before me. I knew it at the moment as the residence of my old Frenchified friend-the ruler of Ireland under the Richmonds-the Talbots, and the Whitworths-the mild prosecutor of the unguarded libeller-the sworn chum of the chubby chancellor-the gentle, the liberal, the beautiful William Saurin. started from my seat-I crawled on through the fields, and who should I meet, upon a narrow path, but the

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owner of the flocks which I had been unintentionally tending? I had the honour of a salute-a stranger's salute. This man,' thought I, is evidently going-he begins to break down rapidly-his removal from office was a blow for which he was unprepared, and he has never recovered from its effect: he has been declining ever since.' I was in the courts on the day that his great rival Plunkett assumed, or rather resumed, the office of attorney-general. Mr. Saurin, as I recollect, sat near him: he was engaged in conversation with some young lawyer, whose jests on that occasion must have possessed a peculiar liveliness, for they frequently brought a smile to the grave face of the fallen functionary; indeed, I thought these smiles, for the moment, were rather assumed; there was a tinge of melancholy about them that was almost sufficient to draw tears even from an enemy: the features altogether appeared as if made up for the day: it was evident that within the strife of passions ran high. In the neighbourhood of the Rock he bears a fair character a good father, a stanch friend, and an indulgent master.

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I passed round the domain of Mr. Saurin, and returned homewards by the Stillorgan road. The houses of the Rock were just in sight, and I was indulging myself with the thoughts of a quiet rest after my long walk, when I was suddenly roused from my reverie by a lively smack of a whip across the shoulders. I looked up-it was himself-no other but the redoubtable, the renowned, the dreaded and the dreadless' Sir Harcourt Lees. He was dressed as usual-spatterdashed to the knees -buck-skinned to the hips-the small hat covered with oiled silk, and the black coat buttoned even to the chin. "You have been,' said he, in our neighbourhood for a week, yet never called to see me;-don't say a word now-but be with me in the evening: -think of Sneyd's 18111'-Before could reply he set spurs to his little nag, and was out of sight in a mo

ment.

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As the evening advanced, I thought seriously of the invitation. I knew not how to act-the pill-box and the

bottle of claret-Sir Harcourt and the doctor-these were the contending parties-these were the opposing points. O Come,' said I, after a long fit of puzzling meditation, let Discretion for once! go overboard: a fig for medicine-Sneyd's claret and Sir Harcourt's humour are things not to be had every day-here goes.' I set out, and in a few minutes rearched the residence of the baronet; it stands in a beautiful situation at the upper end of the town. There is something heavy, however, in the external appearance of the place; the lofty gates lined with sheet iron, trebly barred and closed at all hours, indicate something like fear or uneasiness in the mind of the man who deems them necessary; with this, however, I had nothing to do-my business was with his claret and his chat, and to both I was speedily admitted. I was shown in, and found Sir Harcourt attended only by his patient secretary, Captain Travers Burke: some dirty MSS. lay upon the table; they were removed as I entered: I apologized for the interruption I had occasioned. 'Be seated, my dear fellow,' said Sir Harcourt. These are things that will keep cold-there is nothing in them, however, which we wish to concealnothing treasonable. Burke and I were just preparing an article for the next" Antidote."

"The "Antidote ?" said I;' why, I thought the "Antidote" had dropped."

'Oh, no! We drop it and resume it at pleasure. The securities remain untouched at the Stamp Office, and Burke keeps the little place in Suffolk Street open; he sits there occasionally writing acrostics and madrigals-eh! Tom?'- The captain smiled.

That same "Antidote," continued Sir Harcourt, owes me nearly two thousand pounds; but I have done wonders with it. Look to your glassSir, you're welcome to the Rockgenuine 1811, as I live!'

I admitted that it was indeed excellent.

'Staunton,' said my host, promised to call up-he lives here just beside us. I like his "Register," but it is too much devoted to the whims of O'Connell. Daniel is neither a

pope nor a demigod-he has his faults, and it would serve him if they were sometimes pointed out. I have often called and asked my opponents for a lashing, that I might see where my errors lay. Haven't I, Tom?

Yes, sir,' said the captain. Sir Harcourt took up the papers, which had been laid aside. This,' said he, is the outline of an address to those deluded creatures who lately disobeyed my injunction-I mean those silly Orangemen who showed off their Tom-foolery on the 12th of July. Poor idiots! they have not the cunning to be quiet their enemies will make a fine handle of the business. Old Wellesley is keen enough he has worked steadily, taking off limb by limb; if not prevented he will soon demolish even the trunk.' 'But is not Orangeism all over?'

- said I.

'No, sir, the spirit of Orangeism will exist as long as we can support Protestant Ascendency. When that dies, let me die also.'

'But of what use is Protestant, Ascendency?'

"It is of infinite use-I mean to those

concerned; it forms a bond of union which makes a small party a match for millions-it leaves us snug places and easy sinecures it gives us the government of Ireland, and may soon give us that of England also. Think you would I be allowed to hold my revenue situation at Waterford, if I were one of those called Liberal Parsons? Oh, no! I know the interest of the Protestants, the true Protestants; they hail me as their leader.'

Their leader! do they?'

'Yes; and I have a much better right to that name than Dan O'Connell. Was it himself that assumed the title, or did some of his cringing lickspittles fasten it on him? Poor Daniel! he has lost ground: Plunkett was laughing at him, and the Jesuits made a cat's paw of him--but I saved the country from them all. The Protestants, sir, have a right to look to me as a leader';-my splendid services -my sterling honesty-my tried intrepidity and my sacred character as a minister of the Gospel.'

Minister of the Gospel!' thought I. I looked at Sir Harcourt, and struggled with my countenance.

'Well, Sir Harcourt, “as a minister of the Gospel, what think you of the evidence given by Dr. Magee?'

I request you'll not ask me. I read only that part of it which relates to the Athanasian Creed; the archbishop says it cannot be understood by the vulgar, and he proceeds to explain it but, by all that is beautiful it would require Athanasius himself, with an entire Council of the Fathers, to explain the explanation. Let this go no farther; the doctor is somewhat peevish, and I don't like to make enemies of inen who have parishes at their disposal.-Tom, hand me that other bottle.'-The captain obeyed him silently.

At this moment a sly-looking fellow in livery entered, and handed to Sir Harcourt a letter, dirtily folded, and crumpled in its appearance.

"Eh! what is this?'

'A letter, sir, that has just been thrust in under the front gate:' the fellow retired.

"The direction,' said Sir Harcourt, ́is written in blood; odd enough! But let us see:' he read it aloud :

"Take notice, that, if you don't leave off attacking the church of God and his people, one will be sent, who will serve you as the prophet Samuel served Agag of old.

'Yours, Hatchetface.

"This,' said he, 'is alarming! Oh ye unfortunate, ye misguided papists!! Tom, copy out that.-I saw plainly that some villain was working upon Sir Harcourt's weakness. I knew that the Catholics harboured no malice against him; they think him harmless. I endeavoured to divert him. Why, Sir Harcourt, this letter, from its scriptural allusion, is more likely to have been sent by the Methodists than by any others.'

"The Methodists!'

'Yes; didn't you say once that, if you caught any one of their preachers in your parish, he should be tossed in a blanket?'

'I did say so; but this letter puzzles me. No matter, however, I am a good shot-he who can take down a swallow flying will not die without doing something. Are you fond of shooting? Before I had time to reply the same servant entered,