vine, from which there went out a narrow lane, which extended to the shore; at the extremity of this, and nearly detached from the cliff that arose over the ravine, was an immense piece of craggy rock, worn smooth at the side turned to the sea, but rugged and rough inside. Near the base was a large chink, formed, either by the dashing of the spring tides, or by a separation from the cliff, which might afford room for a boy, or a small man to creep through. The height of the rock may be about ten or twelve feet; the summit was entirely white, from the shell fish which adhered to its surface and sides, and which was bleached by the rays of the sun. From this circumstance, it was generally used as a landmark for the returning fishermen, and when hurried, they moored their boats under it by drawing the rope through the crevice, and fastening it to a ring inserted in the rock. The quay or landing place was nearly opposite, and only about thirty yards across, so that the little inlet could plainly be perceived. Florence clambered up this eminence, by means of rude steps made either by nature or by art, and elevating himself so that his head was only above the level of the rock; he watched the little boat as it cleaved its way through the waters, straight towards the mansion of Sir Edward Simmons. He could distinctly hear the noise occasioned by the shock of the vessel against the rock under the house; so still and calm was the night. After some minutes delay, which he supposed were spent in making fast the rope, the figure seemed to spring on the shore, and to advance directly towards the house. More than ever surprised by this circumstance, Florence almost strained his eyes in watching the motions of this unknown visitant, whom he observed lingering behind a tree, and in the act of making, what appeared to him a signal, to some person above. He did not long remain there, when he was joined by another who appeared from her white dress to be a female. They both proceeded towards the sea shore, seemingly linked together, and walked for a long time along the strand. From what he could discover at that distance, he judged it was the daughter of Sir Edward who came from the house; but who the other was, he dared not guess. They delayed nearly two hours, when the white figure disappeared and the other embarked and pushed off from the shore, and, in the same silent manner, rowed towards the landing place opposite the rock on which Florence was standing. Fearing lest he might be discovered in the moonlight, he crept down, and stationed himself at the chink where he could distinctly view who was passing, without the least dread of being seen himself. His patience was not long exercised, for shortly after, the boat passed, and the cloak in which the man was enveloped, falling from his shoulder in the exertion of rowing he could observe his features. Guess therefore the astonishment of poor Florence, when he recognised, in the person of the midnight voyager the face of O'Driscoll his master!

O'Driscoll had now been married about the space of three years, and had two children, fine boys, who were born within one year of each other. During the latter portion of this time he lived in great discontent with Ellen; so far as absenting himself from her company at various times. Florence observed that this change never occurred until a short time after the night, when he had the interview with Charlotte; and he doubted not from his manner then, that it was not the first, and from other causes he

had not the least hesitation in believing, that many more had taken place since that period. So great was his affection for Ellen-not so much perhaps, from the mere connection with his patron, as on account of her being sprung from the real old Irish stock-that he would not wound her peace, by informing her of what he had seen. He knew the gentle retiring nature of his mistress, would sink beneath a calamity of so grievous a kind, as the loss of her husbands affections, and hoping that time would work a change, and that Roderick would soon feel the magnitude of his crime, in deserting so beautiful, and so good a creature, he preferred awaiting the realizing of this hope, though tardy, to rendering the evil incurable, by making a sudden and aggravating discovery. And as he himself, emphatically observed" the ivy when adhering to the oak flourishes, and shoots to the summit-tear it from its supporter, and it sinks upon the earth." When, however, he perceived that no amendment was affected, and the nocturnal voyages were more frequent, with the boldness of a favourite domestic, and with the honest manliness of a sincere friend, he acquainted Roderick with his own knowledge of his conduct; and severely reproached him, for his want of feeling, and for his cruelty in deserting her, whom his soul should love. O'Driscoll was thunderstruck, when he learned that his visits were thus discovered; and at first with all the haughtiness of the chieftain, and in the sudden burst of passion, was about to commit some violence on the person of the old man; but when he saw his determined and steady look, and unchanged aspect, and when he heard him call on him, to strike to the earth, the friend of his grandfather-the nurse of his childhood-the partaker of his bread-the guest most welcome to his board, and the inmate of his house, his anger at once subsided, and he stood before him in awe, and in shame. The heaviness of repentance sat heavy on his heart, and in a voice faultering from emotion, he made a sudden declaration of sorrow, and bitterly execrated himself, if he ever again should err.

Time flew by, more than three years had elapsed, since the adventure of the boat; and I know not whether O'Driscoll, had during that time, adhered to the vow he made, respecting his desertion of the illicit attachment to the daughter of Sir Edward Simmons. It was, however, remarked in the mean time, that the eye of Ellen became less brilliant, and her cheek less blooming than before, whilst a soft melancholy seemed to pervade her features. She was frequently seen with eyes swollen, and once or twice she had been discovered weeping in her chamber. No one could learn the cause of this change, in one who had been the life of her domestic circle; she whose voice was the most joyous in the song, and the sweetest in welcoming the wayfaring stranger to the banquetting hall of O'Driscoll, was now almost silent, and never raised beyond a tone of melancholy sorrow. Her form was imperceptibly wasting away, and her appearance in public was less frequent. All except Florence were astonished; he guessed the cause, and he suspected that she had by some means, discovered her husband's night adventures, and the estrangement of his love, and he could not help believing, that his master's solemn promise was violated.

The only comfort now left to poor Ellen, was to watch over her children, to attend to their infantine sports, and to reconcile them in their little disputes. She often gazed on them as they prattled on her knee, in

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all the artlessness of innocence, until tears started to her eyes, when she would catch them up, and kiss them with more than maternal rapture.

One gloomy evening, towards the end of November, Roderick, Ellen and the children, were seated around a large turf fire, in the most comfortable apartment of the old building. The day had been more than usually gloomy. The sea was almost concealed from the view, by large black clouds which rolled heavily, and slowly over the horizon. The island was enveloped in this sombre cloak, and at times a heavy, drizzling rain descended, and brought the fog closer to the ground. The roaring of the waters as distinctly heard in the distance, amidst the pauses of the swooping gusts of wind. The screaming of the curlew became a wild accompaniment to this, as it rushed. along the shore. Sometimes a huge black seal, disturbed by the commotion of the elements, was seen amidst the solitary waste of water, to raise his round head from his caverns in the deep, and gazing around for a while, to utter a moaning kind of noise, and then quickly plunge down again. The storm became more violent towards the approach of night, and Ellen, her pale. countenance strongly contrasted by the red flame, sat shuddering as she heard the hinges of the doors, and heavy shutters creak, whenever the whirlwind passed by them. The younger boy was lying on her arms, wearied from excessive amusement, and now affected by the heat of the fire, slept soundly, whilst his elder brother leaned on his father's knee. Ellen's pensive face hung over her slumbering child, and it could be easily perceived from the heavings of her bosom, and the workings of her countenance, that her thoughts were not without melancholy. Ever and anon she pressed her beautiful lips against his plump cheek, but in a gentle manner, lest his slumbers might be disturbed by the ardour of her kiss. O'Driscoll reclined silent and sullen on his chair; his hands folded on his bosom, whilst his eye was kept fixed, almost in mute despair, on the fading form of his wife. Deep remorse sat pictured in his look, and the consciousness of having been the cause of her sufferings, prevented him from uttering a word of comfort or encouragement. A profound silence reigned throughout the mansion, unless when disturbed by the violence of the tempest. Not a voice was heard in the hall. Roderick at length started up, and paced the chamber with hasty strides. He approached the window, and pushed aside the shutter; a flash of lightning flew by, and deprived him of sight for a few moments. He placed his hands on his eyes, and uttered a loud exclamation. Ellen holding the child still in her arms, rushed towards him, and seeing him with his face covered, imagined that he had been entirely blinded. The infant fell from her arms; and she was just tottering on the floor, when recovering from the confusion in which he had been, he caught her, and just prevented her from falling. At that moment the report of a carbine was heard at a distance, which was however drowned in the noise of the wind. Ellen now relieved from her terror, by the certainty of her husband's safety, raised the child from the ground, and sank on the seat she had just quitted. Roderick endeavoured to soothe her fears, by saying that it was the echo of the thunder, but another report accompanied by a loud shout, convinced him of the contrary. They both remained in mute astonishment looking on each other; until another cry which seemed to have been nearer than the last, roused them from the torpor which had seized them. Shot now succeeded shot in quick succession, and reverberated through the hollow caverns along the shore. ()'Driscoll, now extremely alarmed, rushed, to the door, and called out to the

servants who were below. In a moment all was bustle and confusion. The warders in the shielings of the court yard, were roused at once, and 'soon a blaze of fir torches illumined the entire place. O'Driscoll mounted 'on the turret, accompanied by five or six followers, and made every preparation, which haste and terror could permit, to guard and protect them against danger. The stream, swollen to the size of a mountain cataract, bounded furiously over the cliff, and too mighty to be contained in the channel, overspread the yard, and leaped from all sides in yellow muddy volumes into the rath below. The lights were flitting about in the hands of the astonished attendants, who could not imagine the cause of this tumult. At length, in the pauses of the blast the clattering of horses hoofs against the rocks caught their ears. By degrees the sounds encreased, and they could easily distinquish the noise of a horse in full gallop. Roderick descended from the turret, and had but just approached the spot where his attendants were assembled, when a loud knocking at the gate, threatened to demolish the aged frame, which supported the door way. O'Driscoll called out, and demanded who knocked thus. "A friend" answered a deep manly voice, in a foreign accent. "He can scarcely be called a friend, who chuses such an hour as the present, for paying a visit, what is the friend's business, or with whom?" """ permit me to shelter myself from the inclemency of the storm," repeated the stranger, "and you shall become acquainted with my business; it is of too important a nature, and its detail is rather long, to utter it beneath thunder and lightning." Roderick did not however comply with these entreaties, until he had given directions to his men, to retain possession of the arms, which they had already procured; and on finding them prepared to resist any violence which might be attempted, he himself undid the gate, and in the stranger rode. If his first approach created such alarm, his appearance doubly encreased it. In height he was nearly six feet, but rather of a slender make. His dress bore not much resemblance to any thing O'Driscoll had ever seen, as it was in the Spanish costume. A black hat, with a flat crown and an immensely broad leaf, cocked in front, and ornamented by a bright steel clasp or buckle, was fastened to his head, by a broad stripe of black polished leather, which went down his face at either side, and met under his chin. A fine dark plume now injured by the rain and wind, drooped over his brow. His face was of an olive complexion, and his features regular. His upper lip was clothed with dark thick moustaches, the ends of which extended out on the cheek, and turned up after the manner of the Spanish soldiery. A close jacket of dark green cloth, sat tight to his body, a broad yellow belt went round his waist, from which hung three or four pistols and a poniard, and a long broad sabre was slung at his side. His legs were covered with boots of an immense size. A large black cloak was thrown over his shoulders, and fastened at the collar, which was lined with fur, by what appeared to be a gold clasp and chain. The horse on which he rode, was of a high, strong, sinewy make. Its colour deep black; not varied over his body by a single white speck. The noble animal seemed spiritless and broken down by fatigue, and clouds of steam arose from his flanks; whilst floods of water, streamed from his mane and tail. ears drooped down, unless, when they quivered, for the purpose of shaking off the drops which flowed into them. The horseman seemed no less affected by the storm, for the water oozed out of the boots, as he raised himself in the stirrup, to disencumber his person, from the folds of the cloak.

His

Common humanity would not permit O'Driscoll to exclude the stranger, even though he should come as a foe, from the rights of hospitality. He immediately went and assisted him to dismount, and gave directions to his attendants, who were standing around, to lead the wearied beast into one of the shielings, which was lately converted into a stable, whilst he led the stranger into the house. He would not of course enquire into the cause of his guests arrival in this strange way, at such a time as the present, and though curiosity and surprise were excited, he left him to his repose, and joined Ellen in the room where he had left her.

In the morning their guest made his appearance at the hour of breakfast, and from his peculiar dress, they conjectured that he belonged to the service of some foreign nation. He did not leave them long in suspense as to the purport of his mission, for after some short conversation, in which he apologised for the disturbance, he must have occasioned at so late an hour, he, to the astonishment of O'Driscoll, announced himself as a messenger from his father in Spain. It was with difficulty Roderick could believe this statement, as the idea of hearing from his father after a lapse of so many years, was unexpected as it was delightful; and he enquired into the cause of his total silence during all that period. The stranger said, that having obtained a commission in the Spanish service, he had been rapidly promoted, and was ever engaged in affairs of the greatest importance; so much so, as to be unable to find leisure, sufficient to communicate with his friends in his native land. Harassed by the fitigues of his profession, he had contracted a decline, which by slow degrees was increasing. He at length found himself so far decreasing in health, that he found it necessary to retire from the army. His disease was now becoming more severe, and his recovery more hopeless; and he felt himself obliged, to entreat his brother officer and friend, to find out his relations in Ireland, to let them know his situation, and to pray that his son, if alive, should hasten to receive his last blessing. He had property to a considerable amount, and it would be necessary, that Roderick should be present, in order to make the usual arrangements. He had not delayed long on his journey, as he dreaded lest he may not be able to return in time. So impatient was he to deliver his letters, that on arriving at the western coast of Ireland, he had travelled on horseback over all that tract of country, and not finding any mode of conveyance across the strait, at the hour he came there, he had braved the storm, and swam to the other side. The most unbounded joy appeared on the face of O'Driscoll, on hearing from his father whom he long since considered as no more; but it was speedily quelled by the consciousness that he would shortly be so; and that he was summoned to the welcome task of visiting him, but to receive his dying farewell. However, he must now make no delay, lest even this sad consolation should be denied him. He must set out on the next day, and bid adieu to Ellen, and to those whom he loved best. The morning of departure came; and Ellen was mournfully employed, in making the necessary preparations for her husband's journey. I cannot dwell on the melancholy particulars of that fatal morning, as they are of too heart-breaking a nature for detail. It was soon announced that the boat which was to convey them to the opposite shore, was ready. The stranger and Roderick attended by his two boys, and accompanied by Ellen and old Florence, embarked. Ellen strove to conceal her agony as they sailed along, but the heavings of her bosom, could be perceived through the thin kerchief which she held to her eyes. O'Driscoll was truly affected a