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visits have furnished me with matter place: his dust has been scattered for after-reilection; and any thing by the winds of Heaven; his bones which urges a rational being to think bave been consumed; and of his cannot be entirely useless. These strength and of his beauty there does visits have made me acquainted with not exist even a relic.' one, from whose society I have de- He turned at the moment, and rived pleasure and improvement, observed me; but at once recogwith one whose life has been long, nised me as a neighbour.

• Sir,' and full of troubles-one whose story said he, you have dropped in on of suffering might savour of romance, my little hour of sorrow; but, if I if it were not in itself more fearful do not entirely mistake you, you are and melancholy than any thing which not one disposed to trifle with trouthe pages of the romance-writer ble, or to indulge a jest at the exhave, in their wildest varieties, ex- pense of misfortune." I assured him, hibited.

on my part, that I was not; and, as A few evenings before my de- some proof of my sincerity, I for parture from Clone, I had wandered, the time forbore making any remark as usual, towards the churchyard; on the nature of his visit to the I had gone my accustomed rounds, dwelling of the dead, or on the lateand indulged in the wonted train of ness of the hour which he had chosen gloomy meditations. I was about to for it. I turned him from the subquit the place, and had already pro- ject by some uninteresting observaceeded nearly half-way to the little tions on the calmness of the night, stile which was fixed as the mode of and the stillness and solemnity of entrance from the road, when I be- the scene around us. The old man held in one of the walks at a distance nodded, as if approving of my resome person employed, like myself, mark; and, as he was about quitting in deciphering inscriptions. I was the churchyard, I offered him my not startled by the appearance, for arm to lean on. “Ay,' said he, acceptI was easy as to the dead; and my ing of the assistance which I proffered, closeness to the road and to home • it is cheering and pleasant in old rendered me fearless of the living. age to have something to rest upon, I was curious, however, to learn who

some stay to uphold the limbs that it was that ventured to this place of are tottering; but I have none. I loneliness at such an hour; and this linger in utter loneliness, in the curiosity I was determined, at all midst of a cold and heartless world : hazards, to gratify. I approached I am childless, kindredless, friendthe stranger, and, as I was unob- less; like a worn-out tree of the served, I had a better opportunity forest deprived of its branches.' He of viewing his figure and manner. wiped off a tear as he spoke; we He was a tall old man, with white crossed the stile which conducted to hair, dressed in the garb of the the road, and an easy walk of about -country; that is, a broad felt hat, five minutes brought us to his door, and a long brown outside coat. He where we parted for the night. supported himself upon a staff, the I was eager to know more of the end of which rested at the base of a story of this aged sufferer: I made lofty head-stone. He was reading some inquiries relative to him among the inscription, and so deeply was my friends at home; I visited the he engaged in the task, that he was churchyard occasionally, particularly not aware of my being beside him. whenever a calm moonlight night fa16 “Here lies the body of Margaret, voured the ramble, for I knew that late the wife of William Fortescue, on such nights it was most likely he and of her daughter Jane." Oh! would walk abroad. In this I was God,' he continued, that I could only not mistaken ; I met him evening say “and of her sons !” But, no! after evening in his accustomed their dust never shall be gathered range; we conversed for hours togehere. The remains of the one may ther, and I gradually gained his coneven now be thrown out among the fidence. He made me, at intervals, carrion of the field; and, as for the acquainted with the details of his other, he has no tomb, no resting- melancholy history; he placed in my

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possession some papers that helped deep consumption; and, within a to illustrate it. From these, and year after the embarrassment already from the information collected in his alluded to, her husband and her sons immediate neighbourhood, I have had to accompany all that was mortal framed the following simple narra

of her to the dreary grave. tive :

She was interred in the burialWilliam Fortescue, the old man place of her family at Clone: her already mentioned, was known at one daughter Jane, a beautiful and inteperiod of his life as a merchant in resting girl of fifteen, speedily folthe Irish metropolis ; his dealings lowed her. The death of the latter, were extensive, and his general cha- who was Mr. Fortescue's favourite racter among the men of business child, led hiin at once to form the was high and respectable. The trade determination of retiring from the which he carried on was tolerably crowded capital, with its business successful; liis family, consisting of and its bustle, for ever. The detwo sons and a daughter, were grow- clining state of his health, too, ing up under his eye; his age, his served to confirm him in taking this teinperate habits, and the general step. The ineasure was soon carried state of his health, promised him a into effect: with what little of profair career; on the entire, he was perty which failing debtors, greedy not presumptuous when he looked creditors, and over-pampered domescalmly onward, anticipating, in the tics, had left to him, he purchased a presence of those whoni he loved, many small annuity, and quietly withdrew a long delightful year of ease and so- to a farm, which had been rented by cial happiness. His wife, however, was his father, on the banks of the river a drawback on this sum of enjoy- Bann, near the ancient and venerable ment: she was the daughter of a ruins of Ferns. professional gentleman of high cha- · His second son, Henry, accomracter. She had figured, in her panied him in his retirement: he was youth, in a splendid sphere; and, a youth of a gentle disposition and unfortunately, she carried into the delicate frame, but possessed of great plain dwelling of the industrious taste and sprightliness. His educatrader the extravagant and expen- tion was nearly completed on his sive habits which she had thus ac- leaving Dublin, for his father had quired. These habits agreed but in- destined him for the bar ; but, in his differently with the pursuits of a present state of loneliness and desticommercial man: unsettled accounts tution, he could not suffer him from might remain in the counting-house, his sight. Henry, perhaps, felt deeply but all was settled for that evening's affected by his altered prospects; he, party; protested indorsements might no doubt, disliked the dull inonotony crowd the office desk, but the draw- of a mere country life ; but, whating-room was crowded with the glit- ever his feelings might be, he, on the tering insipidity of fashionable life. present occasion, betrayed nothing Mr. Fortescue was an unassuming like gloominess or dissatisfaction. sensible man; he relished not these He saw that the happiness of a befollies;, but, for the sake of tran- loved parent was placed in his care; quillity, he sacrificed his better in- and to the comfort and the gratificaterest to the ridiculous whims of his tion of this parent he resolved at lady. The consequence, however, once to devote all his time and all his was such as might have been fore- attention. seen : these expenses, aided by an Edward Fortescue was a lad of a accumulation of bad debts, and a few very different cast: he was rough unsuccessful speculations, brought and stubborn, and unruly. While at on a temporary embarrassment. The home he kept the family in confusion; claims of all the creditors were fairly and, when at school, he was perpesettled; but the proud heart of Mrs. tually engaged in deciding or fomentFortescue never recovered the blow: ing quarrels : yet at bottom he was she sunk under the unexpected mor- not void of good nature: he was tification of being obliged to suspend most affectionately attached to his payment; she fell gradually into a brother. This was not manifested

by looks or words: he joined the solely on their own resources. The other boys with whom they asso- cast of his education, and the habits ciated in their different amusements; that he had formed, had qualified he looked upon Henry, as he did him not merely for enduring, but upon the rest, with an apparent in- even enjoying, retirement. From his difference; but if any dispute arose, first acquaintance with the mysteries in which the former was likely to be of the alphabet he was partial to wronged, then his real character books; he was an eager, although broke out, and woe to the unfortu- rather a desultory, reader; he had a nate wight who spoke harshly of his pleasing turn for occasional compobrother! The boy, however, was of sition, and a tolerable ear for music. a restless and wandering temper; he 'In the long evenings of autumn, was eager to see the world, and (as while his father enjoyed an easy he said himself) to push his fortune slumber, he was accustoined to stroll abroad. During the period of his out through the fields that bordered father's prosperity he continued, day upon the river, with his flute in one after day, to solicit letters of intro- hand, and a volume of some favourite duction to some friends of the family bard in the other, regaling himself who resided in the south of France. alternately with the rival fascinations In this point he at last succeeded: of music and of poetry. In one of he departed amidst the tears and the these evening excursions he had blessings of his relatives, and landed walked by the edge of the Bann un. at Bordeaux just as the memorable, til he reached a narrow and unfrebut melancholy, revolution was com- quented road, that led over it by a mencing in the capital of the “Great pass called Doran's Bridge. A laNation." The letter which an- bourer belonging to his father was nounced his arrival there was the employed on the spot in repairing a only one which his father had re- fence that some straggling cattle had ceived from the period of his de- broken down. Henry was in conparture.

versation with him, when his atten• The situation of Mr. Fortescue's tion was suddenly called off by the new residence was cheering and agree. sound of a jaunting-car, which just able. On the edge of a pleasantly at that moment was crossing the sheltered hill, by the river-side, arose bridge. It was driven by a servant, the dwelling--a plain slated cottage, in the plain rural costume of the surrounded by a few well-built out- place. On the far șide sat an old offices. A large garden, stocked with man, whose dress or appearance a great variety of fruit-trees, spread young Fortescue did not particularly far to the back of the concern; and notice; for all his attention, at the the little lawn in front was skirted moment, was directed to his comby some young groves, that grew panion, who was placed on the oppodown even to the water's edge. Alto- site part of the vehicle. This comgether it was just such a spot as panion was a pale, but beautiful, girl, seemed likely, by its calm beauty, to of about eighteen, with lively blue sooth a wounded and wearied heart: eyes, and light hair : her figure was it was just such a place as a man of principally concealed by a large feeling and of taste would have dark mantle, which she had folded chosen. The old man seemed to around her. The car on which she enjoy the scenery; and, to Henry, sat went rapidly on; but Henry, even this alone was enough to make all in the moment of its passage, saw about it bright and beautiful. He enough to render him anxious and beheld his father cheerful and re- uneasy. He turned to the labourer: signed ; and this, for him, was a suf- Do you know the young lady that ficient source of gratification. For has just passed us?” himself, however, he was by no « She on the car, sir? To be means destitute of the means of sure I do: doesn't every body in the amusement: he felt that high advan- parish know her and her old father, tage which cultivated minds will at Guinea Booker, along with her there? all times possess, whenever circum- Troth, Master Henry, I wish, bestances compel them to depend tween you and I, that you were mar

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ried to her to-morrow; if you wor, ye He and the priest, while talking, needn't call an alderman your cousin. looked occasionally towards Mr. She has the mocusses, sir! The old Fortescue, who lingered behind the fellow has the yellow gould rusting in rest of the congregation ; they at last crocks; it will all be hurs; and, along approached hin, and Father Doyle with that, she'll have all the land from formally introduced the stranger. the fur side of the road there to the “ Mr.James Booker, sir, feels anxi. bounds' ditch at Effernogue.” ous to speak with you about a matter

“ Has her father no other child ?” in which both of you are concerned. asked Henry.

both men advanced in “ Sorrow one but herself, sir ; and, life-both experienced and respectupon my sowl, sir, she's a good cratur, able. You are both parishioners of and a purty cratur; it would do you mine, and I would like to have you good to hear the poor praising her.” acquainted. The present affair, sir, is

Henry had no inclination to pur- something about a joint ditch to disue his walk : he returned slowly vide your farms.” homewards; and, after reading a Booker looked for a moment at chapter for his father from a religious the clergyman. “ D’ye see me now, book, he retired to bed but not to Father John? I think this an odd repose.

place, and a cold place, to talk about

matters of this kind. What if you "A few days only had passed when and Mr. Fortescue, and this young lad Henry had the gratification of meet, with him, come down to Esfernogue ing the fair stranger, and of being in- this evening ? We can have a quiet troduced to her as an acquaintance. tumbler together, and settle the busiThis was brought about in a way that ness at our aise : say but the word could hardly have been anticipated; as yourself says—and it's done.” and the pleasure which young Fortes- * Father John, to do him justice, cue experienced on the occasion was

was nothing loth-“ he relished his as great as it was unexpected. He friend, and he relished a bumper”had accompanied his father on Sunday he agreed to go. Mr. Fortescue could morning to Ferns; they had heard what not refuse: he went in the evening, was called twelve o'clock mass in the accompanied by Henry. The latter parish chapel, for Mr. Fortescue and was introduced

to the beautiful Exnily his family belonged to the Roman Ca- Booker, and, from that hour, all the tholic persuasion. The crowd was young folks of the surrounding vilgradually clearing off, and Henry and lages looked on them as marked out his father stood for a time in the cha- for each other. The old people clung pel-yard viewing the different faces to the punch-bowl through the greater that passed before them : in a cor- part of the time; and, as is usual in ner, under the shade of some syca- such cases, the affair for which they mores, they observed the parish priest, met was not once spoken of. a venerable-looking old man, en- After this Henry had various opgaged in conversation with a person portunities of meeting and talking who had something in his appear- with Miss Booker: in his evening

that at a glance indicated walks by the river-side he frequently what we would call snugness; he wore enjoyed that gratification, but the a broad hat, with a well-curled yellow chapel of Ferns, on Sundays, was the wig; a tight brown body coat,buckskin place in which they were always sure breeches, and new top-boots, not in- to be found together. Whenever Mr. deed embellished by the compositions Booker happened to be from prayers, of Warren, or of 'Day and Martin, Henry always conducted Emily to her but gaily shining from a plentiful ap- home, and the father usually obliged plication of grease; the man had all him to remain for the evening : for the air of a farmer, and was evidently this it was not necessary to resort to a substantial one. His countenance very earnest solicitation ; indeed, the was by no means prepossessing ; there young lover (for such he now was) was a turn in his eye, and a projection appeared at all times eager to frame in his under lip, that bespoke a mix- an excuse for remaining there. His ture of cunning and of monied pride. music was thrown aside-his reading

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was entirely neglected—or, if he went card-cursing, dance-damning, taberat all near his books, it was only to trynacle-hunting, sleek-headed Methoif there were any among them likely dist. All was over; the doors of Efterto interest or gratify one who was nogue were closed against him for ever! now become but too dear to him. His Another suitor was spoken of, but malady went on progressively-his he was tardy in making his appearacquaintance rallied him on his fading ance. The father continued, in a goodcomplexion--and his father some- humoured mood, to threaten Emily times wondered at his apparent cold- with the intended favour: she thought

His prospects, however, were he spoke merely in jest, but old encouraging ; Emily had in her dis- Booker was of too serious a turn to position but little of coquetry; she joke upon matters of the kind; he was partial to him, and she sought not was for weeks upon the look-out for to conceal it: but there was a rival in the coming sweetheart, and angry was question, and he happened at the pre- he when, evening after evening, he sat sent period to enjoy the favour and at the broad window which looked the countenance of oid Booker. This down the road, dwelling with a vacant was a Mr. Tyndall, a smooth-tongued eye upon the objects that passed Munsteronian ; he was said to be ex- before him—tracing the trees that tensively engaged in the corn trade at waved with the temporary wind-and Cork, and his object in coming to reckoning even the crows that few Ferns was to make some purchases in across the way-yet beholding the that way: from Mr. Booker he en- twilight still deepening, and gaged a considerable quantity, and, in stranger approaching. the course of only one evening, he be- On one of these evenings, in parcame quite a favourite with him. The ticular, he had been sitting at the winsecret of this sudden attachment lay dow already mentioned until he bein his ready acquiescence with all the came almost drowsy with watching ; old farmer's violent theological pre- he had seen the sun going slowly judices. Old Booker maintained it as down-he had observed the neighan article of faith, that out of the houring farmers driving home their Church of Rome there was no salva- cattle for the evening he had marked tion:

: to this Tyndall fervently agreed. the sun-burnt mowers as they trudged He looked on Luther as one regularly down the narrow road, with their raised from hell to curse the world, sithes loosely thrown across their and the Munsterman could not doubt shoulders- his own hay-makers had it. He showed that the meeting of returned from their work—and from the two Eighteens (that is 18-18) was the gloomy marshes of Effernogue the time fixed for the destruction of the wearied tramplers of the turf proheresy—and the stranger was more ceeded by many a route to their disthan convinced. The old theologian tant homes-the children who through was delighted : he had met with a the evening had flung their quoits, or congenial spirit-he was apparently tossed their little jack-stones about a monied man—and, although elderly, the dusty path, were now obliged to his appearance was fair and respect- give up—the old grey-headed men, able." In the fulness of his heart he who sat upon the green bench or the thought of him as a son-in-law; and sheltered bank by the road side, talkthe other eagerly availed himself of a ing of things which probably happenslight hint which Booker had given. ed in their boyhood, felt the darkness With the daughter his case was stealing on them, and the cold nighthopeless-she disliked him. This, dew dropping about them, and prehowever, did not discourage him; he pared to retire ;-there was hardly a urged on his cause with the old man, gleam of light abroad. Old Booker and might have succeeded but for an had been dozing at his window ; le unlucky accident. A friend whom he started, and found that all around him met with in the streets of Ferns, while was darkness; he arose and walked his intended father-in-law stood near downwards to the little parlour, where him, disclosed the unfortunate secret. Emily sat engaged in some trifling Mr. Tyndall was a pretender-he was piece of needlework. She laid it aside no Catholic-but a thorough-going, as her father entered, and proceeded

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