Ballynogue.

My dear Madam,

I return your Ladyship, Mr. Glentworth, and the Misses Singleton, my most unfeigned and hearty thanks for your kind congratulations on my unmerited promotion to the distinguished situation I now unworthily hold. My elevation to the See of --- took place shortly after you left our ever by me esteemed and regretted neighbourhood of Derbyshire. The event, Lady Singleton, was unexpected, but the solicitude of my noble friends got the start of my humble desires. I trust I was contented with my former state; nor, indeed was an Irish bishoprick, with so small a revenue, and such limited patronage, an object greatly to be covetted: but I left every thing to the Countess of Llanberis.

I must certainly rejoice in any circumstance which may bring your Ladyship and Mr. Glentworth to this remote part of the world, and the best accomodation my poor episcopal residence (by courtesy called palace) can afford is at your Ladyship's service. The house, though old, is capacious; and you may judge that I have a tolerable number of lodging rooms, when I inform your Ladyship, that at the time I hope to have the honour of seeing your family, I expect also, as my guests, Commodore and Lady Florence Grandville, their friend Mr. Vandaleur, and Colonel Percy Monclere, Lord B---'s second son, who is quartered in my neighbourhood. Commodore Grandville (with whose eldest brother, the present Earl Grandville, I was travelling, when I first had the honour of meeting your Ladyship, and your respected late Lord at Florence) is stationed off Lough Swilly. He has, I hear, taken for the time being, a house prettily situated on the coast, and Lady Florence intends (as it is right she should) to spend the three ensuing months with him: she comes from her father's near Edinburgh, and the Commodore meets her at --- palace, to give her convoy to Lough Swilly.

Mr. Vandaleur, at one of whose unrivalled dinners in Portman Square I had the honour of meeting your Ladyship when I was last in town, is come over merely to see his friends the Grandvilles; and Lady Florence wrote me word she had appointed him to meet them at my place: I sincerely rejoice, therefore, that I have something to offer your Ladyship which may serve as an inducement to you and Mr. Glentworth to remain a few days under my roof, and I hope Lady Singleton will believe that I am, with every sentiment of respect, and the highest consideration,

Her Ladyship's servant and friend,

RICHARD ------.

Palace of ---.
September the 1st.

P.S. I have been sadly oppressed with my old complaint in the chest ever since I came to Ireland. The moisture of the climate is much against me; I have, however, found relief for the present from a newly discovered medicine, a basalm, I have got over from London, recommended by my friend Judge ---. I find here ample room for my little agricultural tastes, and I have a spot of ground near the palace, which I call my Pet Farm: it is, indeed, a nice thing in its way. Game is plentiful and excellent just about me; the salmon abundant and very good: but, as your Ladyship observes, there is much to do to make things indurable. I hear but bad accounts of our friend the Archbishop. Poor Mrs. B---! I pity her most sincerely: if Lord --- can succeed there for his friend, I wonder who would get Lincoln.

To the Right Rev.---,

Palace of ---.

Dear Bishop,

We have received your's of the first, and thank you for your offered hospitality. I happen to know all the party you mention particularly well, and shall be glad to meet them. How Lady Florence will get on at Lough Swilly I don't very well understand, except the officers of the Commodore's squandron go for something; however, her joining her husband is amazingly like her: she professs great respect for the bienséance, and she is quite right: it is that which precisely draws the line: I have often told her so; and entre nous, when she was doing all sorts of foolish things, a few years back, I first gave her the hint. She has not let it lie idle, and gets on amazingly well in consequence.

Mr. Vandaleur's going so far from London surprizes me; for though he always lies by at the right season, I never knew him before get so completely out of the way of the world. I should like to know his REAL motive for this journey to Ireland. As to his friendship for Lady Florence, that is an understood thing, to be merely a matter de convenence on both sides. I don't at all agree with you that his dinners are good: he likes to afficher the thing, I know, beyond any man in town; and any one may toady him, by praising his cook, Du Buisson; who, after all (as I told him the last day I dined with him) would at Paris be considered as a mere savant gargotier. We had an immense demélê about him that day. He sent up (in his menú) "Les félets a la Berri," for the famous "félets de bellevue, a la Pompadour." Now when my brother went on his first embassy, we happened to have this precise dish, dressed by the son of Mademoiselle de Pompadour's cook; for it was she that invented them for the "petits appartements" at the Bellevue: whereas the other was a thing quite obsolete, and invented by the famous Duchess of Berry for her father, the Regent, ages before. I have been amazingly unpopular ever since with Mr. Vandaleur - and, indeed, I have more than once got myself into scrapes with my English friends, by setting them right on subjects, of which, from the very nature and character of the country, they must be ignorant; for though now and then you will find things pretty fair at some of our best nobility houses, yet upon the whole England is, on this chapter, pretty much where it was in the days of Louis quatorze, whose ambassador exclaimed, on his return to Paris:

"Ah! quel pays etrange - vingte religions, et que deux sauces."

You used to have a good deal of savoir about these things yourself, at least in the West India cookery. I remember, when you were travelling with Lord Grandville, you dressed for us at Florence some pelau, which how dear Lord Singleton voted supreme! - it was not, however, STRICTLY West Indian; but it was a good thing in its way.

You may certainly expect us about the middle of September; Mr. Glentworth says the 13th; I say the twentieth. Mr. Dexter has the horses in training every day, under my inspection. We have cured, between us, Mr. Glentworth's favourite mare of a disease, which Thompson, as usual, denies she ever had. You know Mr. Glentworth's way of going on for ever with his old servants, and suffering himself to be imposed on by them. I am convinced he is afraid of Thompson. What a quiet, half-alive person the late poor Mrs. Glentworth must have been! Charles is like neither of them: he is a most headstrong boy; his getting a curricle was quite against my consent, for he happens to know just nothing at all about driving, and will take no hints.

Adieu, my dear Bishop - you will say I am veritable causeuse, to-day: I am, nevertheless, sincerely your's,

C. SINGLETON.

Sept 4th.
Ballynogue Castle.

P.S. I proposed to Mr. O'Grady to enrich the soil of the demesne with marle, as we did in Derbyshire: but he at once declined the experiment. First, because it was not adapted to this soil, and next, because, if it were, there is no marle-pit in the neighbourhood. - How Irish! If I remained here I would carry my point, however, as I should about a road which I wanted to have proposed at the next county meeting. Mr. O'Grady says it is not to be done, unless the bog, across which I want to run it (to meet the new canal we were talking of), was drained. I told him of the artificial banks in Holland, and other places, but he is entêté beyond every thing. I must say, Mr. Glentworth bears him out in all, because he is one of his plain, honest, straight-forward men; which means, you know, persons who have not the ingenuity to be rogues, if they were ever so inclined. Adieu once more - O! by the bye - throw all your quackeries out of the window, and adopt my prescription, the simple, single sheet of paper laid on the chest; my old remedy, which you may remember never failed. I long to see your Pet Farm, but if you don't know the merits and property of fiorin grass, you know nothing. WE shall make hay at Christmas: I only heard of it this day myself, and have not yet mentioned it to Mr. Glentworth or Mr. O'Grady. I am a great stickler for wooden shoes, instead of the horrible brogues they wear here; I got some made, and these miserable people will not be prevailed upon to adopt them. In every thing how unlike the peasantry of France and Switzerland - at least what they were.

On the afternoon of the fourteenth of September, Mr. Glentworth, Lady Singleton, and suite, arrived before the palace gates of the Right Rev. the Bishop of ---, almost at the same moment that Commodore and Lady Florence Grandville, Mr. Vandaleur, and Colonel Moclere, were in the act of mounting their horses for a morning ride. While the obsequious prelate stood upon the steps of his episcopal residence, bowing out one party and bowing in the other, his guests exchanged their greetings and salutations, en passant, with all the nonchalante recognition with which people of the world hail people of the world; but somewhat enlivened by the exclamations of surprise at the remoteness of the scene in which they had met.

"Good Heavens, how extraordinary! I should as soon have expected we should have met in the deserts of Arabia."

"Only think of a particular set from the neighbourhood of St. James's finding themselves accidentally re-assembled in the wilds of Ireland."

"Do you know, Lady Florence, it is quite a coup du theatre, a thing for a comedy."

"Or a pantomime," added the Colonel, "hi presto popolorum! and here we are!"

"'Tis quite ridiculous."

The party then separated; the travellers to repose in their apartments after the fatigue of their journey; the loungers to pursue their morning's amusements; and the Bishop to extend his pastoral care over his Pet Farm.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER II.

The party, thus accidentally brought together, were of that class in society vaguely designated under the general term - people of fashion: and though no one individual was sufficiently distinguished to be placed at the head of his subdivision, yet were they all so far "fair specimens," that there could be little difficulty in determining their respective places in the arrangement of notoriety.

Mr. Glentworth alone was a variety which chance had included in the general classification. He was a rich English commoner, and represented that best and most enlightened order in the population of the country, from which England, in her Augustan days, drew her statesmen, her patriot, and her heroes; and which still, perhaps, holds her up to the rest of the world, as a nation where political liberty is best understood, and moral probity best depicted. His character firm, but mild; decided, but tranquil; was of an even temperature, remote from all extremes. A certain indolence, interwoven with his constitution, rendered him passive, and yielding to the trivial impediments, or the petty concerns of every-day life. He ambitioned no supremacy in trifles; in essentials he admitted no influence. In these, his actions were invariably the result of his principles, and to them he adhered with a tenacity which set opposition at defiance, and left even persuasion hopeless. His life had been so prosperous, that, though prompt to relieve distress, he could scarcely be supposed to sympathise with misfortune; and so little had the varieties of human character been exhibited to his observation, that to their finer shades he was totally insensible, and his discrimination was applied only to their extremes. The villain could not have escaped him; the rascal might have gone on imposing upon him for ever: but the candid and fair, the enlightened and liberal, would at all times have attracted his attention, and challenged his respect.

Lady Singleton had been the object of his first love, when she was young and handsome; but he was then a younger brother, and ambition decided against him. This lady, with all the importance, though without the title of an ambassadress, accompanied her brother Lord B. in his successive embassies to the courts of Florence, Vienna, and Paris. Poor, though wellborn, her object was to make a brilliant alliance; and while her diplomatic brother was assisting at councils, which were to decide the fate of nations, she was, with no less exertion of political sagacity, endeavouring to determine the destiny of Lord Viscount Singleton, a rich and highly connected nobleman, devotedly attentive to his health, which he only preserved by living abroad. Lord S. was wholly averse from the state of matrimony, which he at last embraced, merely to rid himself of the importunities of the woman he made his wife. His property was entailed on the male heir, and he died, leaving two daughters, and his widow inadequately provided for. During life, his health had been his only concern; the supporting the family grandeur his only passion; and he died true to the principles in which he lived. Lady Singleton was more than disappointed; she was mortified and indignant; she thought she must have held a paramount influence over her husband, because she believed she had married a fool, and she failed perhaps because she was right in her conjecture. While Lady Singleton was pursuing matrimoney and politics abroad, Mr. Glentworth succeeded to twenty thousand per annum, and married at home; and when at the expiration of twenty years, both parties accidentally met, free, emancipated from the respective engagements they had formed in the interim, Lady Singleton again put her political sagacity into motion, and took into consideration the scantiness of her own jointure, and the value of Mr. Glentworth's estates. At that age when she had been alone susceptible of preference, Mr. Glentworth had been its sole object, and interest and inclination alike combined in urging her views on the heart and hand of her quondam lover. Lady Singleton was a fine woman, and a dimplomatist; Mr. Glentworth was an English country gentleman, who knew no more of what is called life than was to be learned during his annual attendance on parliament: the odds were of course against him, and he lost his game, before he suspected he had been drawn in to play it.

A long seesions favored her Ladyship's political arrangements: she talked of old times till old feelings returned, with old remembrances; and till the senses and the imagination became the dupe of the memory. Time was not challenged to account for the thefts he had committed, while prepossession supplied their loss; and by the day parliament was up, Lady Singleton went down to Glentworth Hall, as the bride of its excellent master. Dissimilar in every point of character, they yet, by a happy discordia-concors, went on well together. Her bustle was well opposed to his quietude. Her interference sometimes amused, if it sometimes annoyed him, and her judicious attention to his habits and comforts elicited his patience for her whims, his indulgence for her follies. An only son was the fruit of his first marriage; by his second he had no issue.

The force of health and presumption of high spirits, had given to Lady Singleton the resemblance of that energy which belongs alone to genuine talent. Habits and manners acquired in countries where woman is called upon to take part in all the interests of society, blended with her own complexional activity, created for her that species of character which the French have aptly termed "une femme affairê." Idle by circumstances, restless by disposition; loving indolence, yet hating quiet, she was officious without being useful, and busy without being occupied; always struggling for authority, she spoke only to dictate, and moved only to meddle, while in her furor for influence, she had not the tact to discern whether attention or neglect followed her councils, or waited on her orders: to obvious contradiction, however, she was intemperately alive; and to obsequious flattery weakly susceptible: easy to dupe, but difficult to convince, she was sought for by the cunning and avoided by the wise, gay, dissipated, and amusing: the giddy, the frivolous, and the inconsequente, always found their account in her society; and her foreign connexions, knowledge of the world, and more than all else, the immense size of her house in town, gave her a distinguished place in the circle of fashion. One eminent person in a family, generally, not universally, produces a proportionate degree of mediocrity on the succeeding members. Extraordinary clever mothers do not always produce extraordinary clever daughters: without pausing to seek this effect in its cause, or to produce a second instance to substantiate the position, it is certain that the Honorable Miss Caroline, and Miss Horatia Singleton, were as vapid and as dull as their mamma was animated and sagacious. Destitute of common intelligence, and yet overburthened with accomplishments, and old enough to take their parts in society, among the corps du ballet of exhibited young ladies, they were still kept in the back-ground, on some principle, which maternal wisdom had not chosen to divulge to them; and to this wisdom, which was feared without being respected, they bowed implicitly, not submissive, but not resigned.

The Honorable Mrs. Singleton belonged to a large class of young ladies to be found in almost all societies, and who have for their prototype that intelligent young lady of other times, who wrote to the Spectator to know if "dimple" was spelled with two p--s. The minds of the Misses Singletons had never elaborated a query more important, nor admitted a doubt more abstracted. No lowly consciousness, however, of their own unimportance disturbed the confidence of their self-sufficiency. Dull and giddy, conceited and flippant, they sneered, winked, and whispered to each other their mutual contempt of all who were excluded from their own little mysteries; of all whom they had been taught to regard as informed, or to laugh at as quizzical. But the person whom they held in the most thorough comtempt, was their governess, by whom, however, it must be confessed, though they were sometimes entertained, they were seldom instructed; for passiveness, and seeming inanity, with some other prominent points in her character, which were favourable to their turn for a sort of maudlin ridicule, rendered her the perpetual object of their derision: alone with them in their study, their attempts if ever felt, were never replied to; but when in the presence of others they endeavoured to throw off their "pretty wit," at her expence, she had the art, or the artlessness, it was impossible to say which, by some unexpected look or word, to throw them into situations ludicrous beyond their power to extricate themselves; and then they wondered how a person mamma called "bête," should blunder upon such things, and make them feel so uncomfortable: still, however, they did not complain, lest they should get somebody in her place, less indulgent, less facile, and (as they expressed it) less quizzical than herself.

This governess, half Irish, half foreign, passing the first fourteen years of her life in Ireland, and the last ten in Italy, was the only person who had ever retained the situation in Lady Singleton's family beyond the first six months: she had now held it nearly a year, and stood indebted for the circumstance, not to her merits, but her deficiencies.

When Lady Singleton was engaging her, a few weeks after her arrival in England, she observed - that she did not want a governess to meddle with the education of her daughters, further than as she directed; that she did not particularly desire to bring into her family une illustre malheureuse, blessed with fine talents, and superfine feelings; nor did she require a governess to outdress herself and her daughters; to play the agreeable, and to make one in her societies. To every clause of these stipulations a most implicit obedience had been observed by the submissive duenna. "In short, Miss O'Halloran," continued her Ladyship, "my daughters do not now want a governess so much as a companion; and my object in engaging you, is, that I am told you speak, 'La lingua Toscana, nel bocca Romana;' not that I quite think so myself, for your U is French; however, I know nobody that speaks it better, and therefore I take you; and par consequence, we much have nothing but Italian; French always goes on, one does not know how; but observe, we much have none of your Doric English; for your brogue is as pure as if you only left Ireland yesterday; as indeed has always been the case with every Irish person I ever met on the Continent."

Miss O'Halloran had not hitherto in any one instance violated this treaty, and the result of her docility and implicit obedience was that Lady Singleton said she was 'bête,' and the young ladies believed it.

Though all governesses are interesting, by presumptive right, yet Miss O'Halloran had so wholly neglected her privilege, that Lady Singleton and her daughters had as little to fear from her attractions, as to expect from her resistence: she had, however, a youthfulness of appearance, which is sometimes deemed beauty in itself: but this juvenile air was counteracted by an inertness and indolence of motion, which is deemed peculiar to senility. The abruptness of her manner, might perhaps, under the influence of prepossession, have passed for naïveté, had it not always been followed by a certain vacancy of countenance, which changed the promised charm into an actual defect, while her smiles, which were 'few, and far between,' alone threw a ray of intelligence over her features, and seemed to struggle with their own acuteness, lest they should shame the stupor of her vacant eye. Either from a sense of her situation, or from natural gravity, the most arduous of all others, her conduct was distinguished by a reserve almost amounting to sullenness, and yet she had the habit of bursting into an abrupt laugh, whenever circumstances called upon her risible faculties: this she did, 'not wisely, but too well,' for her laugh, though always ill-timed, was ever well directed. Lady Singleton had in vain contended against this obedience to a natural impulse; but as nature was still more powerful even than her Ladyship, and as this was evidently a fault beyond the reach of art, Lady Singleton contented herself by telling every one who witnessed the incorrigible propensity, that the girl was rieuse par constitution, but as she had no other fault to find with her, she thought it a pity to part with her for that: for the rest, Miss O'Halloran was a mere dead letter in the splendid volume of society with which she was accidentally bound up: she has only obtained her place in this catalogue raisoneé, from the accident of her association.

Commodore the Honorable Augustus Grandville, was a brave, thoughtless, good-natured, sea-officer, destitute of domestic feelings, and consequently averse from domestic habits; admiring his wife as a fine woman (for which reason he had married her), and confiding in her as a heartless one: he loved his only son passionately, because he had nothing else to love; and being almost always on service, he considered his ship as his home; and on shore, felt himself only a visitor.

Lady Florence Grandville was a woman of fashion by etat, an observer of the decencies by profession, and a coquette by every charter-right and privilege with which nature, circumstances, and education could endow her: like the glowworm, shining without heat, at once vain an insensible, she was not to be misled by fancy, nor committed by passion: a wife and a mother, she was attentive without being affectionate, and only gave to her family what the superfluities of self-gratification could spare from their own abundance. With some reputation for being brilliant, or at least attractive in conversation, she had in fact just sufficient intelligence to lead her to the means by which her own views could be best effected; and she had early discovered the secret of purchasing, by well-directed bribes to the vanity of others, that distinction indispensably necessary to her own. The men who followed her were unconscious of the lure which led them, and knew not that they were less drawn on by the admiration they felt for her, than by the self-love flattered in themselves.

A French philosopher, in a metaphysical work (and a French philosopher only would think of mingling love with metaphysics), has declared a platonic love to be the only love for a rich desœuvré; and a coquette the only mistress - "Et pour ce dernier, un coquette est une maitresse delicieuse,: he observes.* Tried by this rule, Lady Florence Grandville was the person in the world to be the platonic friend of Mr. Vandaleur: such in fact she was, to the letter of the word.

[*La plus forte passion de la coquetterie est d'etre adoreé, que fiare a cette effet, toujours irriter les passions des hommes, sans jamais les satisfaire. HELVETIUS.]

Mr. Vandaleur was English by birth and education, Dutch by descent, dull by nature, rich by inheritance, and gallant by assumption. Labouring under the embarrassment of his opulence, which no extravagance of youth or of passion had decreased, he sought to extricate himself from his difficulties by a boundless indulgence in his dominant propensity. Gourmand by habit, he became by principle,

"Un veritable Amphitryon:*"

and the science of his dinners obtained him a notoriety in London, where such science, though not promoted to the dignity of a professorship, boasts disciples as numerous and distinguished as any in the range of human acquirement. It also obtained for him the notice of Lady Florence Grandville, whose bonton gave the finish to his rising fashion; and who admitted him into the legion of her "thousand and one" friends, on the merits of his "cotelles" and "filets." Time, habit, and an unsuccessful winter's campaign, favored his promotion: from being un "amant de parade," he became a friend by profession. Thus associated by idleness and vanity, whoever could have given occupation to the one, or sensibility to the other, would have destroyed all grounds of connexion in both for ever: meantime, Lady Florence afforded him her attention, without according him her preference, and he continued to follow in a kind of blind but tranquuil devotion, which passion never disturbed, nor love exalted: at once, the most obsequious and most indifferent of men.

[*Le veritable Amphitryon
Et l'Amphitryon ou l'on dine.
                  MOLIERE.]

The Honorable Colonel Percy Moclere was a young man upon town, whom every body knew. To give some little distinction to a character which naturally had none, he affected to profess in perfection that subordinate and innocent, but tiresome branch of ridicule, called quizzing; and as some excellence in that art can be worked out of the smallest possible quantity of ideas which can go to the formation of a human mind, there was no insuperable bar to the success of his attempts.

Such was the party which a six o'clock dinner-bell summoned, and reunited at the well-furnished table of the Bishop.

The soups and fish were scarcely removed, and something like conversation was beginning to circulate, by Lady Singleton's attacking Mr. Vandaleur on the subject of his cook's want of science in the important articles of filets, when one of Mr. Glentworth's servants approached her Ladyship, and delivered her some message, in a low voice. "O, very well," she replied: "Edwards, go and see of you can be of any assistance to Mr. Dexter: tell him dinner has been served some time:" then turning to the Bishop, she added, "O, my dear Bishop, I entirely forgot to mention that our friend Mr. Dexter accompanies us, and that I must beg you will extend your hospitality to him."

The Bishop returned a neat and appropriate speech, expressive of the pleasure he must feel in receiving any friend of her Ladyship's; and Lady Singleton continued, interrupting something that Mr. Glentworth intended to say:

"O, I can assure you, Bishop, you will like Mr. Dexter of all things: he is an extremely sensible and obliging person, of the right way of thinking, and plays all sorts of games. He offered to accompany us as far as Donaghadee, merely to be of use to us on the road; for he says 'tis impossible for strangers to guard against imposition on Irish roads, except one has been long resident in the country, which is his case; and he knows exactly how to deal with them. He is our purse-bearer; but farther than that, I am pretty equal myself to all the exigencies of a journey in any country."

Mr. Glentworth smiled, and said: "I am sure, my dear, I wish that in the present instance you had extended your confidence in your own abilities, and not have taken advantage of Mr. Dexter's civil and accomodating disposition. I protested from the first starting of the project against bringing a man such a distance, merely to be of use to us, when it must undoubtedly be of great inconvenience to himself."

"O! but then, my dear Mr. Glentworth, you know you oppose every scheme in the first blush of its proposal."

"But where has this gallant convoy been detained," asked Lady Florence, "that he has suffered his charge to come on without his protection?"

"Why," said Lady Singleton, "he was so obliging as to ride back to the last stage, for a very valuable paper which I left behind me, in my ridicule; a draught of the plan and elevation of an aqueduct for Ballynogue, and a drawing of my Lancasterian schoolhouses."

"Does Mr. Dexter live in the world?" asked Lady Florence.

Before the question could be answered, the subject of the conversation entered, with an air more of effrontery than of ease. He was a spruce, smart, dapper person, and received the Bishop's welcome with a jerking bow, as obsequious as it was inelegant.

"Here, Mr. Dexter," cried Lady Singleton, "here is a seat, between Lady Florence Grandville and I."

Mr. Dexter smirked and smiled, and wriggled to his chair; then rose, and bowed profoundly, as he received the honor of presentation to his noble and distinguished neighbour; and while his soup was preparing at the sideboard, he presented Lady Singleton's ridicule, observing, in an affected tone of voice:

"I have had the good fortune to recover your Ladyship's valuable - or indeed I should say, invaluable, drawings; not, however, till I had recourse to some little artifice, when threats failed; for after all, you must ever meet the lower Irish with their own cunning - I know them well; and I am sure your La'ship would be much amused, if you knew the little stratagem I had recourse to."

"Politique aux choux et aux raves, Eh! Mr. Dexter?" said Lady Singleton, laughing critically.

"Lady Singleton," said Mr. Dexter, with the air of one who really understood what she said -

"Well, but do let us hear, Mr. Dexter: I should like amazingly to know what use they could make of such drawings."

"That is exactly what I said, Ma'am, to the innkeeper; and to tell the truth, the moment I saw the sign of St. Patrick over his door, I - but oh! Lady Singleton, such an affecting sight as I beheld since!! - the state of this country is too deplorable. A poor old woman, scarcely able to crawl! - such a venerable countenance too! seated weeping on the side of a ditch. I alighted, and inquired into the cause of her affliction, offering to carry her behind me to the next village. Poor soul! her little story was short and sad. She had been stopped, and illtreated, and robbed, by a rebel."*

[*In some of the Dublin prints, this is a general epithet for all sorts of criminals. A few days previous to the writing of this note, it appeared in a morning paper, that a REBEL had fired at a soldier; but happily the rebel missed his aim.]

"A rebel!" repeated the Bishop: "God bless me!"

"Yes, my Lord, a rebel. The wretch took from her her little tobacco, and her poorsnuff-box; what further he would have done, I will not presume to say, but that I appeared in view. Government, it must be owned, are obstinately lenient, and strangely blind to the internal state of this unhappy country. The lower orders are ripe, at this moment, for rebellion; and even the public roads are unsafe, except one foes in a kind of caravan, as I may say."

"Well, I must confess," observed Mr. Glentworth, "that I do not agree with you, Mr. Dexter, in this instance. The common people, about and on my estate, seem thinking of any thing, poor people, but rebellion; and as for the roads we have lately passed through, I think I would ride back alone, as far as we have come, without the smallest apprehension."

"I can very well understand, Mr. Glentworth, that you do not, and indeed ought not, to agree with me on this subject; for you must, and ought, naturally to judge of the rest of the country by your own flourishing estate, and your town of Ballynogue (for I may well call it your's), where, by your extraordinary liberality and benevolence to your tenants, and the unexampled activity and spirit of reform which my Lady Singleton has ---"

"Nay, we must cry for quarter, Mr. Dexter," interrupted Mr. Glentworth, laughing.

"I believe, however," said the Bishop, "Mr. Dexter is quite right, generally speaking, with respect to the real state of this country: for a clergyman in my diocese gives pretty much the same account; and he has some right to know, for he acts in his district and parish in the three capacities, civil, military and clerical."

"My Lord, I am highly flattered by your Lordship's condescension in agreeing with me upon any subject: and after all, who better than your Lordship should know the real state of things in this unfortuante country; particularly that part of it in which your Lordship holds so distinguished and so sacred a station? But I must be permitted to say, Mr. Glentworth, that all great English landholders have not your confidence on first coming to this country; indeed, so much the contrary, that a young gentleman, a friend of miine, who has an immensely fine estate in Leinster, and who for the first time came from England to visit it last summer, had the precaution to apply in Dublin for a guard of soldiers to protect him on the journey. Strange, however, to say, he was refused, and he had then recourse to a simpler means of protection: he engaged a celebrated piper, and made him play the whole way before him in the Dickey-box,* wishing to try conciliation, and being well aware that the lower Irish are addicted to music, and those sort of idle things - and - "

[*This anecdote, too absurd for fiction to venture at, I have on the authority of some persons of distinction, who were in the neighbourhood of this "conciliatory gentleman's estate, when he arrived with his piper. The event is recent, and the gentleman a native of this country.]

Here Mr. Dexter was interrupted by Miss O'Halloran's bursting into a violent fit of laughter, in which she was joined by every one at the table, except Lady Singleton; for Mr. Dexter, not to be discountenanced by any event, joined the laughers himself, until, observing the displeasure of Lady Singleton's countenance, he abruptly composed his own, and with great gravity asked her to take wine.

Lady Singleton threw a look at her governess, and murmured "bête!" while Mr. Glentworth endeavoured to give another turn to the conversation; and Mr. Dexter addressed himself to Lady Florence, who, though she affected to give him a flattering and undivided attention, threw a sly glance of quizzing intelligence at the Colonel, who was only waiting for his moment.

Meantime Mr. Vandaleur had stood up to dress his sallad at the sideboard, calling for trenchers and wooden spoons, and accusing the Bishop of being not orthodox, because he profaned his endive and cos with china and plate.

When the ladies withdrew, Mr. Dexter and the Bishop again renewed the subject of Irish affairs; for the Bishop was a timid man, and Mr. Dexter soon discovered that he was so. As far as Mr. Dexter stood himself related, or in any way connected with Ireland, it is sufficient to say, that he lived by the country he reviled, like the wild and noxious weed that preys on the stately ruin, out of which it draws its existence.

The gentlemen broke up early: the Commodore accompanied Mr. Dexter to the stable, he having told Mr. Glentworth that he would just take a peep at his favourite mare before she was done up for the night. The rest of the gentlemen proceeded to the drawing-room.

"I wonder who this quiz of a person is," said the Colonel, addressing Mr. Vandaleur, "that Lady Singleton has picked up?"

"I don't know at all," yawned Mr. Vandaleur; "but I rather patronize any one who makes the FRAIS of conversation, after dinner, and saves once the trouble of talking. I have a system, that silence aids digestion."

"Pray, Mr. Glentworth," said the Bishop, "is Mr. Dexter an Irishman?"

"I have not the least idea, Bishop - Lady Singleton can tell you more of him than I can: my acquaintance with him was quite accidental. Riding into Ballynogue one day, my whip broke in the market-place: a gentleman perceiving it, stepped up, offered me his, and insisted on taking mine to mend. The next day he called at the Castle with it. We asked him to dinner, and - here he is. Lady S. has found him extremely useful, and goodnatured. He has kept our table in game, and been very attentive to a mare of mine, whom he cured of a vice, which, indeed, I never suspected she had, till Mr. Dexter found it out. I understand he is a man of small but independent fortune, and has accepted an appointment in the revenue, in our district, merely to have something to do."

"Upon my word," said the Bishop, "he appears to me to be a very sensible, intelligent young man, and of a very right way of thinking."

"Indeed I believe he is," returned Mr. Glentworth, smiling; "and I have but one fault to find with him, that he makes his responses so loud at our little church at Ballynogue, that he puts out the clerk, and disturbs the whole congregation."

The gentlemen had now reached the drawing-room, and coffee was served. Shortly after the bell rung for evening prayers; but no one followed his Lordship to the chapel, but Mr. Dexter, and (by Lady Singleton's desire) the Misses Singleton and their governess.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER III.

NOT many years back, the few English persons of rank or consideration, who visited Ireland, came only on the imperious call of business; and probably considered their journey as a mere pilgrimage of necessity to the shrine of interest. Ireland, once interesting for her struggles and her sufferings, and distinguished by a fatal pre-eminence in the enormities of which it was the scene, had, within the limits of little more than half a century, sunk under the sullen torpor of unresisted oppression, of unrefuted obloquy. Silence and oblivion hung upon her destiny*, and in the memory of other nations she seemed to hold no place; but the first bolt which was knocked off her chain roused her from paralysis, and as link fell after link, her faculties strengthened, her powers revived: she gradually rose upon the political horizon of Europe, like her own star brightening in the west, and lifting its light above the fogs, vapours, and clouds, which obscured its lustre. The traveller now "beheld her from afar," and her shores, once so devoutly pressed by the learned, the pious, and the brave, again exhibited the welcome track of the stranger's foot. The natural beauties of the land were again explored and discovered, and taste and science found the reward of their enterprize and labours in a country long depicted as savage, because it had long been exposed to desolation and neglect.

[*Those historians who have brought the history of Great Britain down to the present reign, have, in fact, given no history of Irish affairs during the period which occurred from the revolution to the death of George II. and it is a melancholy fact, that, from the enactment of the Penal Laws till the first dawning prospect of their repeal, the "bulk of the people ceased not only to improve, but retrograded; they contracted habits of inertness for want of object to act, and lived or died as water-cresses and wild roots were plentiful or scarce."]

When the English travellers, who were now thus assembled, had been induced to visit Ireland by the necessity of their various and respective interests, they had taken pleasure into the account, no further than as it is implied in change of place. A trifling event, however, awakened curiosity, and gave birth to the unforeseen intention of visiting a spot still more celebrated than known, and of varying a journey of obligation by the episode of a party of mere amusement.

The Bishop had prevailed on his friends to remain a day or two longer at the palace than they had originally intended. On the evening of the second day, as the whole party stood taking their coffee round the drawing-room fire, with the exception of the young ladies and their governess, Lady Singleton exclaimed: -

"Oh, apropos to nothing at all, Lady Florence, do you mean to visit the Giant's Causeway before you leave Ireland?"

"I have never thought of it at all," said Lady Florence, "further than that I know there is such a thing to be seen in this part of the world."

"Miss O'Halloran," continued Lady Singleton, "who is always poking her head where no one else would ever think of going, got into a sort of old diocesan library, somewhere adjoining the palace. Is there not such a place, Bishop?"

"There is a sad old ruin, with a few books in it," returned the Bishop, "which was a diocesan library."

"Well; there she found some extravagant description of the Giant's Causeway, and as she takes every thing au pied de la lettre, she has talked so much of its wonders to the girls (albeit unused to the talking mood), that they have been reading it to me while I dressed, and they are not a little amused at her believing such stuff:* what is still more odd, she has told them a parcel of Irish stories, which account for the Causeway, by supposing it the work of giants, especially of one Fin-ma-corl, I think she calls him; however, poor Miss O'Halloran's nonesense apart, one thing is evidentaly pretty plain, namely, that the person who has written on the subject, and it is an amazing old tract, knows nothing about it; and that he has never seen Mount Ætna nor Mount Vesuvius, nor in the least understands the nature of those kind of things - of which I happen to know a little."

[*The first account of the Giant's Causeway, towards the end of the seventeenth century, is extremely wild and improbable, and was most probably the tract in question.

One of the old names of the Giant's Causeway was, Binguthan, the Giant's Cape. Fin-mac-Cumhal, the hero of Irish fable, was supposed (and is still supposed by the country people) to have been the architect of this stupendous edifice, as the Basaltar region of Iceland are attributed by the natives to their Giants - "the Sons of Frost," of the Edda.]

"Suppose, my dear," said Mr. Glentworth, dryly, "that you were to visit it yourself: you might, perhaps, give us some new theory of the phenomenon."

"I am sure there is no reason why we should not visit it," said Lady Singleton: "we are not pressed for time. - What do you say, Lady Florence; shall we make a party?"

Lady Florence, who was flirting in an under voice with Colonel Moclere, came eagerly forward at this proposal; for one more perfectly accordant to her wishes could not, under existing circumstances, be made. In the first instance she loved parties of pleasure, as all persons of fashion do; in the second she considered that all time passed in Ireland would go into the account of her conjugal duty, and that all time stolen from the solitudes of Lough Swilly was so much rescued from tedium and ennui. Her Ladyship, therefore, seconded the motion with great warmth; and the question being generally put, was carried without a dissentient voice; the Commodore closing the agreement, by asking them all to proceed from the Giant's Causeway to Lough Swilly, where, he said, he had rooms enough to lodge them, and ship beef and sea biscuits sufficient to victual a regiment during a month's siege: he was, however, himself obliged to return to his station on the following day. Lady Florence having pressed his invitation more decidedly, the whole scheme was concluded upon with all the promptitude and facility peculiar to persons who have nothing to do but to seek amusement, and no way of obtaining it but by change of sensation and novelty of pursuit.

Every one was gratified by a scheme, of which, the moment before it was formally proposed, nobody had dreamed.

Mr. Glentworth, who trifled occasionally, with natural science, felt a laudable curiosity, and anticipated satisfaction in visiting one of the most magnificent phenomena in the natural world. The Colonel gave his voice to the question, with an intelligent look at Lady Florence. Mr. Vandaleur inquired what fish the coast was famous for; and Mr. Dexter rubbed his hands, smirked, wriggled, and talked to the Commodore of Lord Nelson, the wooden walls of old England, and the many snug situations which a man, who had interest, might obtain in the Admirality. But Lady Singleton, above any other individual, was placed in her own sphere by this arrangement: she objected to every plan proposed, to every hint suggested relative to their plans of progress. Her experience as a traveller gave her some undisputed importance on the occasion, and her decided tone of dictation set all opposition to her will at defiance. The Bishop's little study was ransacked for maps, gazetteers, and geographical grammars, and she at once decided on making a circuitous tour by the coast, because somebody else had proposed making the journey shorter by avoding it. As it was Lady Florence and Mr. Dexter's interest to prolong the journey, they warmly agreed with Lady Singleton; and as it was a matter of indifference of every one else, she carried her point without dissention.

"But where is Miss O'Halloran and the girls?" asked Mr. Glentworth: "they must be called into our councils, since they have been the origin of our - "

"Nonesense!" said Lady Singleton: "you know, Mr. Glentworth, I don't want the girls to come forward in any possible way; and as for poor Miss O'Halloran, the idea of making her a party is rather too ridiculous."

"O, by the bye," said Lady Florence, "do you know, I think she is an amazing odd person, Lady Singleton - I do indeed; she looks so strange, and her laugh yesterday - altogether, I never saw any thing so outré in my life."

"So she is," said the Colonel; "a regular genius I dare say - eh, Lady Singleton?"

"A genius!" said Lady Singleton. "No, thank heaven, she is not quite as bad as that: on the contrary, she is tant soit peu niaise, for I know not of any English term which would express the sort of foolish stupidity she at times exhibits."

"Exactly," observed Mr. Dexter, emphatically.

"What is very extraordinary, however," continued Lady Singleton, "her Italian is extremely pure, and indeed it is the only language she can speak, and the only thing for which I engaged her. Her father was an odd kind of genius; an Irish artist, settled at Florence. - He died in great distress there, and this girl was taken by Lady Hewson as a governess. Sir Harry was then Envoy at Florence. Now, you know, poor dear Lady Hewson is come from menu peuple, and is upon the whole the vulgarist fine Lady; so her recommendation did not go for much. The girl was a mere buffa in the family, and, I believe, kept more for the amusement than for the instruction of their affected daughter, who is a complete petite maitresse, and a most tiresome little creature, with her accomplishments, trading upon one song, and making "impromtus a loisir." Well, Miss Corrinna Hewson married, you know, last spring, and the buffa, with her Lingua Toscana, fell to my share. She has some relations in Dublin, whom we allowed her to visit when we were at Ballynogue Castle, and she came back with a worse brogue than ever."

"Precisely," said Mr. Dexter.

"O! then," cried the Colonel, "I beseech you, my dear Lady Singleton, let us have a little of her brogue and her buffa: only conceive, Lady Florence, what a melange. I certainly must take a better acquaintance with this Signora Katty Flanagan."

"Well," returned Lady Singleton, "don't carry the thing too far, and amuse yourself if you will. If you can get her on the chapter of the Irish Giants, you'll find her amusing enough, at least the girls say so; but she never ventures to shew off before me."

During this conversation, the ladies, the Colonel, and Mr. Dexter, formed a little coterie, apart; and while they were still talking, tea, the young ladies, and their governess, all made their appearance together. The Colonel, with his glass at his eye, followed Miss O'Halloran's lounging motions as she proceeded up the room to the tea-table, where she took her seat ex-officio: the Colonel repeating as he watched her, to Lady Florence: -

Monstrous outré; one sometimes sees very good arrangements in that line: I dare say she is an authoress, writes 'Lectures on various subjects for young Ladies,' and illustrates the bible alphabetically, with the addition of wood-cuts, abridges Buffon, and explains 'Mann's catechism.'"

"Come and talk to her," said Lady Florence: and they proceeded towards the tea-table, where the Misses Singletons stood linked arm in arm,

"Like to a double cherry seeming parted,
But yet a union in partition,"

whispering and smiling at the gaucherie of their governess, and throwing their eyes from the Colonel to Mr. Dexter, and from Mr. Dexter to the Colonel.

"O, Miss O'Halloran," said Lady Florence, "Lady Singleton has been doing the honors by your descriptive powers: she has set us all longing to hear your account of the Giant's Causeway."

"I beseech you, Miss O'Halloran," added the Colonel, "I beseech you to indulge our longings; 'let us not burst in ignorance.'"

"Come, Miss O'Halloran," said Lady Singleton, dictatorially, "you may once in a way faire l'agreable."

"Miss O'Halloran will be too happy to obey your Ladyship, I am sure," siad Mr. Dexter. "Courage, Miss O'Halloran; there are none bye but friends."

"Or if," continued the Colonel, "the Muse of Eirin be impropitious to our vows, would Miss O'Halloran but invoke the Muse of the Arno in our favor, and we would give up Fin-ma-corl willingly for 'La Virgenalla,' or 'the Nina.' By the bye, Miss O'Halloran's countenance is finely adapted for the 'Nina Pagga per amore:' I have not a doubt but she would rival Lady Hamilton in it. Miss O'Halloran's air has something naturally egaré - that loose simple dress too, and that downcast eye."

Miss O'Halloran, who, during the whole of this attack, had gone on quietly rincing the cups, and arranging the tea-table, now suddenly raised her head, and opened two large eyes on the Colonel with a look of such stupid amazement, that he involuntarily started back, and a general laugh at his expence disturbed for the moment at least the vein of his humor.

"So," said Lady Singleton, vexed that any command of her's should be disobeyed, militate as it might against all former and general orders - "so, the old proverbs are always right:

"Les grands talents se font prier."

"Critically," returned Mr. Dexter, who always translated her Ladyship's French by the context of her looks.

"We have had quite enough, however, of this nonesense," continued Lady Singleton. "Pray get on with the tea, Miss O'Halloran. Come, Mr. Dexter, bring me that spider-table, and those maps. Very well - now cut this pencil - and some letter-paper, if you please. Bishop, I beg a book of the roads. And now observe, good people, I am prima donna upon this occasion, or I am nothing. Either you give up the arrangement of the whole tour to me, or, Je m'en tiens quitte de tout - I cut dead."

It was agreed nem con, that her Ladyship should have all the superintendence of the journey, while the rest should enjoy all the pleasure if afforded. Mr. Glentworth alone smiled, and remained silent. The Governess retired, as soon as her office was over, and teh young ladies took their station at the back of their mamma's chair, looking over her shoulder, as she pursued her route upon paper, while Mr. Dexter stood obsequiously cutting her pencils, and occasionally making comical faces for the young ladies, who thought him the most amusing person in the world; but always drawing up his features into looks of profound gravity, whenever Lady Singleton raised her eyes.

"I am afraid," said Mr. Glentworth, "that poor Miss O'Halloran's feelings have been rather put to the test this evening; for without being particularly sensitive, or quick sighted, she must have perceived that you were all quizzing her unmercifully."

"Nonesense!" said Lady Singleton: "I like the idea of her being sensitive. Mr. Dexter, look out in the Gazeteer for Glenarm."

"I don't at all think," said the Colonel, "that she took my little gallantries amiss."

"Here it is, Lady Singleton - Glenarm."

"On the contrary, Colonel, she could not fail to be very much flattered by your notice; and indeed, from the little I know of her, I think I can assert that she was so."

"I would not hurt her feelings for a thousand worlds," said Lady Florence; "but she strikes me to be rather sullen than sensitive."

"Exactly, Lady Florence," returned Mr. Dexter; "that is what I say: but she is a most fortunate young woman to be where she is: and that she should refuse to obey any command imposed by Lady Singleton, is a little strange."

"Yes," said Lady Singleton, "I think it is rather good, my Governess refusing to do what I ask her."

"Nay, my dear," said Mr. Glentworth, "she did not refuse; but the fact is, request followed request so rapidly, that she had not time allowed her to comply or to refuse. Observe, she was called on, in a breath, for an exhibition of her descriptive powers, and for a scene from the comic and serious opera."

"Certainly, Mr. Glentworth," said Mr. Dexter, "what you say is perfectly just. She had not time to comply or to refuse; but, as her La'ship observes, she ought not to have refused implicit obedience to her La'ship's commands.

"Now, Mr. Dexter," said Lady Florence, throwing a rallying glance at the Colonel, "do you pretend to say that you would not refuse to obey any order Lady Singleton should impose, however irksome it might be?"

"I beg your Ladyship's pardon; but I must premise, that no order of my Lady Singleton's could possibly appear irksome to me. But granting it were so, my obedience would be equally prompt: nor indeed, would your Ladyship condescend to impose a command, would you find me slow to execute it."

"Then I have one ready for you, Mr. Dexter. Here is a broken bon-bonniere. Do ride over to the next town, and get it mended for me."

"Lady Florence, I will have the honor of mending it myself. I have a pretty little mechanical turn: it is just in my way. Besides, getting such a thing done in an Irish country town - ha, ha, ha! I cannot refrain from laughing. But you would not get such a neat little job done in any town in Ireland, except indeed Mr. Glentworth's town of Ballynogue; for I may call it his, since his extraordinary liberality and benevolence to his tenants, and the unexampled activity and spirit of my Lady Singleton - "

"But I must have it immediately, Mr. Dexter - I must indeed. You know I am dying of a cold, and only live from lozenge to lozenge."

"If these are your Ladyship's dying looks, what - but you may depend upon my zeal and dispatch; for when engaged in the service of the ladies, as the Poet says - "

"Which of the poets?" interrupted the Colonel: "Major, or Minor, Mr. Dexter."

"Which of the poets? Ha, ha, ha! very good, Colonel, very good. I hope, Lady Florence, you like poetry; and, above all, that you admire the celebrated Shakespeare, a charming writer. That sweet little passage you may remember: hem - it begins so:

"She sat like Patience on a - "

"Mr. Dexter," cried Lady Singleton, "do lay a chess-board for the Bishop and Mr. Glentworth. My dear Mr. Glentworth, had you not better attack the Bishop at something? I cannot imagine how people can go on for ever, lounging about. I think, young ladies, you may as well wish us good night."

Mr. Dexter, and the young ladies, equally obedient, complied with their respective orders. The Bishop and Mr. Glentworth took their seats at the chess-board, at which they were old competitors. Mr. Vandaleur, who had been slumbering on a sofa for a good digestion, was challenged to vingt-un by the Commodore, who had returned from answering some official dispatches: and while Mr. Dexter sat by Lady Singleton, cutting pencils, pointing compasses, and displaying maps, the Colonel and Lady Florence took possession of a couch, and amused themselves by quizzing the whole party.

Devoid alike of that perception which rapidly developes the peculiarities of character, as of that humour which aptly exhibits them, their remarks went no further than the surface of manner; and their ridicule, lighting only on some little peculiarity or folly, differing from their own, without being inferior to it, was as destitute of the wit, which lends its excuse to sarcasm, as of the playfulness which deprives it of its sting. It was indeed like other similar attempts so often passed off in society for legitimate ridicule - most "maudlin gaiety," most flippant dulness.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER IV.

THE necessary arrangements for the tour to the Giant's Causeway, and from thence to the Commodore's residence on the shores of Lough Swilly, were at last finally made, under the sole superintendence of Lady Singleton. Mr. Glentworth, Mr. Vandaleur, and the Colonel, travelled with their own horses. No servants were taken but such as were indispensably necessary; and on the fourth day from the arrival of the travellers at the Bishop's gates, they took their departure.

Lady Singleton's travelling barouche was occupied by herself, her daughters, their governess, and Mr. Dexter: the Colonel drove Lady Florence, in his curricle; and Mr. Vanaleur was accompanied by his valet du chambre in his own chaise. Mr. Glentworth rode his favorite mare; the ladies' maids took possession of the dickey-boxes; and two outriders brought up the cavalcade. Before they started, however, Mr. Dexter stood up, to observe to the party in general, that he was ready to ride when Mr. Glentworth was tired of his horse - to drive when the Colonel was weary of the whip - to resign his seat to Mr. Vandaleur or Lady Florence when either should prefer the barouche to the curricle or the chaise.

The cavalcade was then put in motion; the Bishop, mounted on a little ambling nag, accompanied his guests to the gate of his favorite farm, with compliments, and regrets, and acknowledgments for the honor they had done him: he then made his bow, and left them to pursue their journey.

"Pray, Lady Singleton," said Mr. Dexter, "may I beg to know how my Lord Bishop came to be raised to the dignity of the mitre, for I understand he was very lately nothing more than a private tutor?"

"How do you mean?" asked Lady Singleton.

"Why certainly your Ladyship is quite right, in asking how I mean; for of course his Lordship obtained his present dignity by his eminent talents and great piety. He is indeed a most learned and pious divine, and I dare say a very good preacher."

"Yes," said Lady Singleton, "petit bourdalone a la table, if you will, for he understands those sort of things a merveille; but he preaches like other people, I believe prosey enough; and, as for his learning, I have heard Lady Llanheres prône him; but he is not known out of the families where he has lived: these, however, were persons of high influence, and he could not fail to be made a bishop." "Could not fail to be made a bishop!" repeated Mr. Dexter, emphatically. "Very true, indeed; still it was great kindness in his noble patrons to - "

"Not a bit of it," interrupted Lady Singleton. "It is a thing understood in great families: it makes a part of the attelage of household dignities. Had my Lord Singleton been blessed with a son and heir, I should have been amazingly annoyed if his tutor had not been made a bishop. However, I got one steward into the Treasury; and my brother has pushed him up pretty high."

"Your brother has pushed him up, Lady Singleton; - in the Treasury! And may I ask your Ladyship what qualifications are requisite to fill a place in the Treasury? Supposing a man has a good fortune to - "

Here Mr. Glentworth rode up to the carriage, and interrupted the conversation by his remarks to Lady Singleton on the uncommon beuaty of the weather, and the scenery through which they were passing; and though Mr. Dexter made several attempts, he could find no opportunity of renewing his inquiries relative to the Treasury, and the talents which would qualify a man to become a candidate for one of its official departments.

A far as the romantic and beautifully situated little town of Larne, the travellers had proceeded without impediment, and with some degree of pleasure and amusement. Air and exercise promoted health and spirits; and the fineness of the weather, and the excellence of the accommodation, hitherto kept all in good temper, and got the start of expectation. Lady Singleton had, however, something to blame or to rectify every step she took. At Belfast, where they remained a day, she proved, as she stood on the bridge, that it should have been erected upon twenty arches instead of twenty-one; and endeavoured to convince a civil engineer whom she accidentally met, that the canal that connects the harbour with Lough Neagh was formed against every principle and system of inland navigation.

At Carrickfergus, where they were shown the spot where King William landed, she discovered he had chosen the very worst place on the coast; and returned to lecture the innkeeper severely for the state of decay in which she found the fortifications.

"It is not the fault of the town-folks, your Ladyship," returned the man: "they have nothing to do with it. There is a governor appointed by the Government, and with a good salary I warrant, my Lady."

"And with a good salary!" repeated Mr. Dexter, knitting his brows.

"Then," said Lady Singleton, "I shall have the thing inquired into. This is the way Government is always duped."

"Unquestionably," added Mr. Deter. "I dare say it is a pretty lucrative post, Lady Singleton - Governor of Carrickfergus. And if a man has insterest - "

"The fact is," interrupted Lady Singleton, "this wretched country is wretched merely because nobody thinks it worth their while to interfere and make things better."

"Critically," echoed Mr. Dexter.

In their approach to the town of Larne, the beauty of its situation attracted universal admiration. Its little bay, penetrating through a rocky entrance, and taking, in its sweep, the village of Glynn, the limestone quarries which skirt its coast, and the ruins of Olderfleet Castle, mouldering on the little peninsula of Curran, presented objects of great picturesque beauty. Miss O'Halloran, for the first time venturing at an observation, remarked to Lady Singleton, that the peninsula of Curran resembled the Sicilian Dripanon, which produced a decided dissent from her Ladyship. This, Mr. Dexter followed up by -

"Undoubtedly, Ma'am. It is totally impossible that an Irish scene could resemble any thing in Italy: the comparison is really quite comical."

"Were you ever in Italy, Sir?" drawled out Miss O'Halloran.

"No, Miss O'Halloran, not absolutely in Italy, though I have been abroad; but I think I know it as well from her Ladyship's description as if I had lived there all my life."

The town of Larne once passed, a new region seemed to present itself. The roads became less practicable, the scene more wild. The great and stupendous features, which characterise the coast of Antrim, now gradually developed themselves, in all their rudest grandeur. Promontories, bold and grotesque; bays deeply insulating the mountainous shores; rocks fantastically grouped, were the objects forming the picturesque. Lady Singleton held her carte au voyage in her hand. Glenarm was the next stage she had laid down, after Larne; and there she had decreed they were to dine and sleep. An avant-coureur was therefore dispatched, to make necessary preparations, the improbabilities of accomodation for so large a party not being taken into account of her Ladyship's calculations. The steepness and impracticability of the roads already began to undermine her patience, if they did not decrease her confidence in her own infallibility: but the surrounding scenery, though indescribably wild, was not wanting in attraction to fix attention on itself. The bold promontory of Ballygelly, abruptly exhibiting its enormous, but well defined, pillars, presented the first specimen of the Basaltic region, into which they were about to penetrate.* The ruins of Cairne Castle, mouldering under the shadow of its cliffs, were partially tinged with the mid-day sun, that poured its cloudless radiance on the wild heights of the Salagh Braes, which form the segment of a circle to the west of the coast, running from north to south.

[*The rock on which these ruins moulder is insulated at high-water. Here, it is said, a northern chieftain confined his daughter, to secure her from the importunities of another Leander, who, however, succeeded better in his hazardous enterprise than the youth of Abydos, and bore away his Irish hero, in spite of a tempestuous sea and a cruel father.]

The sun had not reached his meridian, when the romantic and lovely village of Glenarm, with the broken outline of its hills, its limestone shores, its castle, and plantations, appeared to the eyes of the travellers, smiling amidst the surrounding wildness.* At the entrance of the village the avant-coureur, his horse smoking, rode up to the barouche, to say he had lost his way among the hills, and that he had but just entered the town, and discovered the inn: to this he pointed, and the carriages drove up to a neat, pretty-looking cottage, while Lady Singleton continued to lecture, without mercy, the intimidated courier. The second out-rider had already entered the inn, to call some one to attend; and Mr. Glentworth observed, as the carriages drew up:

[*When Lord Bisset fled from Scotland for the murder of the Earl of Athol, he was permitted to settle on this romantic spot by the favor of Henry III. He, however, forfeited his Irish possessions in the reign of Edward II. The Mc. Donnels of Cantire claimed and obtained the lands of their kinsman, and the present Castle of Glenarm is the seat of their decendant, the Countess of Antrim. The ruins of a monastery founded by Lord Bisset are still visible.]

"The expect accommodation in this little place, for such a party as our's, is quite too absurd."

"How could I possibly suppose," said Lady Singleton, "that Glenarm should only be a village, when I had set it down in my own mind it was a large post-town?"

The servant now came out of the house to say that he believed the people were all abroad, getting in the harvest, for they could only find an old woman in the inn kitchen, and that he could not make her understand him.

"It's hard for her the cratur! when she's entirely bothered,"* said a voice, which, from its peculiar tone and accent, drew every eye to the speaker. The person who had thus volunteered his observation, in all the unadulterated richness of a genuine Connaught brogue, stood with his huge arms folded, leaning against the side of the inn door, while a thick stick and a small bundle lay at his feet. The figure, thus disposed, was considerably above the ordinary heighth: muscular, but not full, it exhibited an appearance of powerful strength, united with a lounging air of habitual indolence: a countenance, in which a sort of solemn humour was the leading expression, tinctured with an acute shrewdness, was shaded by long black hair, occasionally shaken back; while a pair of dark sunken eyes were thrown indifferently on either side, and only with a slight passing look, turned, as if by chance, on the splendid strangers, whose shewy persons and equipage seemed to excite neither admiration nor curiosity. The dress of this singular person was as equivocal as the figure was striking: his coat might have been an undress military frock: it was a faded blue, with still more faded scalet cuffs and cape. Though the day was sultry for September, he wore a loose, large rug coat, which was buttoned round his neck, but hung behind, like a mantle, with the sleeves unoccupied. Immense brogues, and blue stockings, were partially covered with black gaiters; and a paid of short canvas trowsers, reaching but a little way beneath his knees, completed his costume.

[*Bothered - deaf: almost always used by the lower Irish to express deafness.]

"A prize!" cried the Colonel, speaking through his hand to the party in the barouche. "The first genuine Paddy I have met since I have been in the north of Ireland," he added, to Lady Florence.

"Perhaps, Sir," said Mr. Glentworth, addressing the stranger, "you can give us some information, as to the nearest town to this village, where we could get the best accomodation for so large a party as this."

"I can, Sir, to be sure - every information in life, your honour; not one in the barony can incense* you better, Sir:" and he took off his hat whilst he spoke: nor could he be prevailed on to resume it, while his dark countenance brightened into intelligence the moment he was addressed.

[*Incense - Inform.]

"Come here, Sir," cried Lady Singleton, beckoning to him - "come here. Which is the nearest town to this miserable disappointing little village?"

Is it the nearest town to ye'z*, Madam? Why then, Madam, the nearest town to ye'z, is the furthest off intirely, in regard of the short cut being broke up since myself passed the same last; but the directest way ye'z can take is to turn acrass by that bit of a wood, to your lift."

[*The distinction between addressing one of more persons is thus always marked ye'z is used as ye.]

"What wood?" asked Lady Singleton: "there is no wood that I can see."

"There is nat, Madam; but there's all as one - for there was a wood there in th' ould times, as I hear tell. Well, ye'z lave the wood to the left, and ye'z will turn down, of you plase, right forenent you, and when ye'z come to the ind of the lane - "

"Well, Sir!" interrupted Lady Singleton, impatiently.

Well, Madam," returned the stranger, in a tone of sudden recollection, "the divil a foot further ye'z will go, any how, in regard of the floods, which has dam'd up the road for all the world like the salmon leap at Ballyshanny:* but sure if ye'z have nothing to do in life, but to turn round and go back straight before ye'z, and then, your Honor, you'll reach Larne in no time."

[*One of the most celebrated salmon leaps in Ireland, is near the entrance of the town of Ballyshannon.]

This information, which excited a general laugh from all the party but Lady Singleton and Mr. Dexter, was replied to by the latter, who exclaimed:

"Why you stupid, blundering fellow, that is the very town we are come from."

"Is is, dear?" returned the Irishman, coolly.

Meantime, as it was evident they had another stage to perform before they halted for the evening, hay and water was procured for the horses; and the master of the inn, who had come in from his fields, confirmed what they had suspected, that he could not accommodate so large a party, and directed them to a new inn* on the sea coast, within a short distance of the next post-town (New Town Glens), lately set up for the accommodation of travellers to the Causeway.

[*It may be perhaps necessary to inform the English tourist, who may be induced to visit the Giant's Causeway by the coasting road from Belfast to Bush Mills, that no such inn at present exists, as is here mentioned.]

Lady Singleton had entered into conversation with a linen buyer, or, in the language of the country, a webber, who was riding by, and to whom, from beginning to enquire about the state of the roads between Glenarm and New Town Glens, she digressed to the texture and value of Irish linens, and gave him some useful hints relative to Bleech-greens and other things connected with the manufacture. While Lady Singleton was thus engaged with the itinerant merchant, who, on his part, was recommending her to their house at Colerain, if she intended to buy any linens, while in the very region of webbs and looms, the rest of the party, headed by the Colonel, were amusing themselves with the Irishman, who stood every interrogatory and attack with the utmost quietude, coolness, and gravity. On the subject, however, of the place of his nativity, (for the Colonel affected to think him an Englishman) he seemed a little puzzled: he repeated that County Donegall was his undoubted native place, though he had the good luck to be born in County Leitrim, Prowence of Connaught, which was all was left to the FORE of poor ancient ould Ireland, barring Munster; - "for," he added, "every one of my people, grandfathers and grandmothers, from the beginning of time, barring myself, was born in and about Donegall town, till the English patentees and Scotch undertakers* drove us all like wild bastes into the mountains, and into the Prowince of Connaught."

[*When the six counties in Ulster were escheated by James I. a few of the leading chiefs, particularly the O'Donnels, fled to Spain and France: the rest of the land proprietors found asylums in Connaught. The inhabitants of these counties, even in the present day, are distinguished by the terms given to their ancestors in the statistical surveys of the country; in that of Donegal they are called patentees, undertakers, and servitors or natives.]

"Then you are not a native of this province?" asked Mr. Glentworth.

"Is it me, Sir? O! no, your Honor, I am not: I hope I have done nothing, bad as I am, to be born in the black north, any way; ye'z might tell that by my English, for the cratures in these parts have no English, only Scotch Irish, your Honour."

"We did indeed remark something peculiar in your English," returned the Colonel: "but may I presume to ask what brings you into this country, since you seem to hold it rather in contempt?"

"What brings me into this country, your Honor? O, I'm a traveller, Sir."

"I thought so; you have the air of a man who has seen a deal of the world."

"O, I've seen a power, Sir, in my day: sure I was twice't in Dublin, your Honor."

"Indeed! and no further?"

"No, Sir, no further: - only once't in Garmany, on a little business; and a little while back in the Western Indies;* that's when I was sarving in th' army, your Honor."

[*This is copied verbatim.]

"So then His Majesty has had the honor of retaining you in his service?"

"O! he had, your Honor: God bless him."

"And pray, Captain, to what regiment were you attached?"

"O! your Honor's going to the fair with me, now,* any how: it never was Phaidrig (which is Patrick) Mc. Rory's luck, and that's myself, to be a captain, yet, Sir, only a CORPOLAR; - and what was my regimen, why then, troth, I was mighty near listing with the Flaugh-na-balagh boys**, under the great Giniral Doyle, long life to him, wherever he is, only in regard of the master, who came home on account of the troubles. So I listed with him in the Irish Brigades; and so we went to fight the black Frinch negurs in St. Domingo. Of as fine a regimen of lads as ever you clapt your eyes on, not one of us but was kilt dead in the field, barring a handfull, as I may say, and myself and the master."

[*A common expression, meaning "you are gibing me."]

[**Flaugh-na-balagh - clear the way - the word with which General Doyle's Irish regiment rushed into the heat of a fierce engagement.]

"Why you don't mean that a gentleman of your education and appearance is really in service?"

"O! I do, Sir, surely; and I'm the master's foster-brother to boot, and has the greatest regard and love for him in life; but at this present spaking I may say I'm no sarvant at all, only a pilgrim."

"A pilgrim! you!"

"I am, Sir; surely, an't I going to keep my station at Lough-Dergh, in respect of a vow I made for taking a drop too much on Good-Friday; so with the master's lave, and the blessing of God, I'm going to do pinnence at the blessed and holy St. Patrick's Purgatory."*

[*For an account of this famous shrine of pilgrimage, see note at the end of this volume.]

"Purgatory!" repeated Mr. Dexter, shrugging his shoulders, "so, I thought as much: and so, Mr. Mc. Rory, you are really such a superstitious blockhead as to believe in purgatory, are you?"

"I believe, Sir, in what my church bids me, and what my people believed before me; and what more does your Honor, and the likes of you do, nor that? But in troth, in respect of purgatory, Sir, myself is no ways perticular; only, bad as it is, sure, your Honor may go further and fare worse for all that."

This observation, quaintly uttered with a mixture of quietude and humor, produced a general laugh at Mr. Dexter's expence, who replied with great acrimony of manner: -

"So, Sir, it is very plain that you are a pretty bigotted, thorough going Papist, and think that every man who is otherwise will be damned."

"No, Sir, I am nat: I'm a Roman,* and sweet Jasus forbid that every man should'nt have a sowl to be saved, go what way he will; and divil a diffir I believe it makes in the end, any how, whether a man goes to mass or church, only just for the fashion sake."

[*It is a singular circumstance, that the epithet Papist is rejected by the lower Irish as being a term of reproach; and that A. B. Usher has clearly proved, that the supremacy of Rome was unknown to the earlier Christians of Ireland, and first introduced into the country by Henry II. who came with a sword in one hand, and Pope Adrian's bull in the other.]

"No, Sir, you don't think any such thing," replied Mr. Dexter, with increasing ill-humor. "I know what sort of person you are very well: you are one of those idle mischievous fellows, for I don't credit a word of your story, who go about the country, stirring up the poor deluded people, and raising the cry of emancipation."

"Of who, Sir?" returned the Irishman, coming closer to the barouche, in which Mr. Dexter had just seated himself.

"Emancipation! You heard me very well."

"I have no call to him, Sir: is he a freeholder!"

"He, he, he!" cried Mr. Dexter, "that's just what he wants to be."

"Why then no blame to him," returned Mc. Rory, "for surely it makes all the diffir if a man have a wote or have not a wote; that's when he gets into a scrimmage:* what compensation did I ever get for my poor brother, Randall Mc. Rory, who was kilt in a ruction, because I'd no gentleman to back me, having ourselves neither wote nor interest, and being Romans to boot;** for he was far away that would see me righted, any how; only he couldn't be in two places at once, like a bird, long life to him."

[*Scrimmage, a term so often used upon all occasions of riot or confusion, must mean a skirmish; as RUCTION, though exclusively applied to a riot, must come from insurrection.]

[**A remark made by Mr. Young in his Irish Tour, Vol. 2nd. which bears upon Mc. Rory's observation, holds good to a certain degree at this day.]

"And so," said Mr. Glentworth, willing to give the conversation another turn from that to which the folly and intemperance of Mr. Dexter was leading; "and so, my friend, you are going to perform penance for the crime of getting tipsey on a Good-Friday: and how far have you travelled today?"

"Not far, your Honor; only from New Town Glens, where you'll get the best entertainment for man and baste; and elegant fish."

"Do you really mean that?" asked Mr. Vandaleur, who had hitherto remained silent, and lolling out of the window of his chaise.

"Troth, I do, your Honor, every word of it; and it's what you'll get a bit of mutton there that the Provost of Strabane need'nt be ashamed to stick his knife in of an Easter Sunday; long life to him! - the real Raghery."

"Raghery! what sort of mutton is that," demanded Mr. Vandaleur, with some eagerness.

"The elegantest, little, dear mutton, your Honor, that ever you set your two good-looking eyes on; the leg of it, not bigger nor the leg of a lark, Sir,* to say nothing of the beautiful salmon fish that comes leaping into your arms, fairly out of the water - the craturs, with their tails in their mouths,** and their elegant fine fins, twinkling in the sunshine, for all the world like that Lady's eye, there," and he bowed low to Lady Florence, who leaning forward, and smiling graciously, returned:

[*The island Raghery, off the Antrim coast, is famous for its small breed of cattle: the mutton is particularly delicate and sweet.]

Here, when the laboring fish does at the fort arrive,
And finds that by his strength he does but vainly strive,
His tail takes in his mouth, and bending, &c. &c. &c. - DRAYTON.

This opinion also prevails among the fishermen of the salmon cuts in Antrim.]

"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Rory. I assure you, I think you altogether a most amusing person, and particularly gallant, and exactly what I should expect an Irishman to be."

"Why then, devil a much out you are there, Madam, or Miss; for myself does'nt know well which you are; it's few of the likes of you comes into these parts any how, God bless you."

The horses being now fed, and Lady Singleton having made all the enquiries, and given all the advice she thought proper, called out to the party, who were still amusing themselves with the communicative Irishman, "Basta, basta, cosi; come, we have lost time enough: Thompson, get on: Mr. Dexter, put up the head of the barouche at your side. So, I have sent Edwards on before us to prepare for our reception."

The cavalcade now proceeded, and the Colonel, whose curricle was last, took off his hat with great ceremony to Mc. Rory, expressing a hope that they should meet again, and assuring him he was proud to have made the honor of his acquaintance. Mc. Rory, on his side, bowed with equal ceremony, and Mr. Glentworth desiring the outrider to give him some money, followed the carriages.

The Englishman, who had been extremely amused with Pat, was much pleased with the commission, but with great difficulty succeeded in prevailing on him to take half-a-crown.

"Why then, see here, my lad," said Mc. Rory, putting it up, "it is'nt in regard of the lucre of gain that I take their two and eight pence, only to drink their healths this night before I sleep; and troth, every farthing of it I'll lay out for that same, if it was a golden guinea; so I will, for they are real and undoubted quality, surely; barring, indeed, that young man in the corner of the landau, who wanted to do me out of my devotion. Well, see here; I'll bet a dollar, that's if I had it, that he's no gentleman, but some poor relation, or a follower of the family, like myself, that gets the run of the house, and sticks like a burr; for it's remarkable, that it's always the likes of them takes most on themselves; so it is all the world over."

The Englishman shook hands heartily with him, and said, he was not much out; that he was a d---d good fellow, and he was sorry he could not wait to make more of his acquaintance: he then rode on.

The fact was, that Mr. Dexter, from an officious interference with every branch of Mr. Glentworth's household, had rendered himself unpopular with every subordinate member of the family, and the overbearing haughtiness with which he endeavoured to give weight to his usurped authority did not tend to sooth away the prejudices which that usurpation had excited against him.

Mr. Dexter was one of those worthy successors to the led captains of ther times, who, without talent, make their way through the gradations of society from their own original obcurity, by artful obsequiousness, and by flattering the foibles, courting the favor, and gliding into passive conformity with the passions and opinions of those from whose rank they can borrow consequence, from whose influence they may derive profit: nor was Mc. Rory far from the mark, when he likened him to an order of persons in his own country, who, too indolent to labour, and too poor for independence, rest their claims for idle maintenance on some distant relationship, and by an artful study of the character of those on whom they prey, govern while they adulate, and influence where they affect to depend.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER V.

THE tourists now proceeded along the wild and winding shores which skirt the northern seas, between the vally of Glenarm, and the little maritime town of New Town Glens. Annoyed by the increasing badness of the rugged roads, or busied in invectives against their overseers, of whose negligence she threatened to make a formal complaint, Lady Singleton at length became insensible to the peculiar features of the scenery, nor did prospects, however consonant to the fantastic genius of a Salvator Rosa, or the wild and gloomy imagination of an Ossian, compensate to the travellers for jolts with almost dislocated, nor ruts and dykes which threatened wheels, and put patent springs to the test: Mr. Glentworth, therefore, who still rode, in vain pointed out to them the beautiful inland views afforded by glens and mountains, and the distant villages of Glenclye and Carnalloch; nor were they more struck by the bolder features of the coast, particularly the romantic promontory of Garron*, which stretches along the coast, and opposes its sharp, salient angles, to the incursive turbulence of the waves. "Yes, yes," returned Lady Florence, endeavouring to skreen her face from the sea air, "it is all very fine; but if you have a mind to charm me with a prospect, shew me the chimney tops of our inn."

[*Garron, "the sharp point." The site of the fortress of Dunmall is still to be traced along this coast, where, tradition asserts, "all the rent of Ireland was once paid; probably the revenues of the Dalaradians."]

They now continued to wind along the shores of the Red Bay, at the base of the heights of Craig Murphy. At no great distance from the ruins of Red Bay Castle, appeared a small neat house, and under a swinging sign, ornamented with the shamrock and thistle, was inscribed in large characters: "The Castle Inn, by Alexander Mc. Donald." The house was surrounded by very bold romantic coast-scenery. The avant-coureur had been more successful here than at Glenarm, and had obtained, at least, the promise of every due accomodation.

The first object with the travellers was a luncheon, and what Lady Singleton denominated une toilette du voyage, for she had previously stipulated with Lady Florence, that they should not throw off their habits for less convenient drapery, till they reached her own house at Lough Swilly: the toilette de voyage was therefore soon dispatched, and a luncheon in the interim, consisting simply of potatoes and butter, was spread on an oak table in the middle of a white-washed parlour.

Sharp appetites, however, furnished a sauce picquante to the homely fare, and every one surrounded the table but Mr. Vandaleur, who stood aloof, looking on with looks of utter despair.

"This is a sorry prelude," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I am afraid Mr. Mc. Rory's salmon and little mutton existed only in his own imagination."

"We shall know that directly," said Lady Singleton. "I have sent for our host."

"Meantime, then," said Mr. Vandaleur, "I'll try a biscuit," and he rung the bell for his own servant.

"You don't expect to get biscuits here that are eatable, do you?" asked Lady Singleton.

"There are certain things I never expect to get good any where out of my own house, Lady Singleton, except I carry them with me."

"All prejudice," said Lady Singleton - "and I would prove it if I had you in England."

Here Mr. Vandaleur's Frenchman, who, when travelling, served him as cook and valet de chambre (his own cook having stipulated never to leave London), made his appearance.

"Have we any biscuits left, La Tour?" demanded Mr. Vandaleur.

"Eh! mais oui, Monsieur."

"Bring in the case. Let me see what you have got." Lady Florence threw a sly and smiling look at the Colonel.

"What have you got there, Monsieur?" she demanded, as La Tour took a little canister out of a leather case.

"It is, Miladi, de café a la creme pour prendre par le nez, qui dissipe les douleurs des yeux, et refraichit le cerveau par son odeur agreable et suave."

"But, La Tour," said Lady Florence, "we want to dissipate our appetites with something more than an odeur suave."

"Eh bien, Miladi, here is de biscuitins d'Amerique - et la parfaite amond, et - "

"Give me a biscuit and a little parfaite amond," said Mr. Vandaleur, who sat listlessly looking on: "if any body chooses liqueurs, they will find some here worth tasting."

"I must beg leave to doubt that," said Lady Singleton, while La Tour helped the gentlemen: "there are now no genuine liqueurs to be had in England - I have a reason for knowing it."

"For which reason, I import my own," returned Mr. Vandaleur.

"So I should suppose," said Mr. Dexter, putting his throat to the torture, to get down a hot potatoe, that he might say something civil, as he took the liqueur out of La Tour's hand.

"Upon my word this is exquisite," he continued, smacking his lips, "quite exquisite."

"No," said Mr. Vandaleur: "that which you are drinking must be very bad, from its colour."

Mr. Dexter now observing Lady Singleton had left the room, obsequiously repeated:

"Why, certainly, if you say so, it doubtless must be, Mr. Vandaleur; for you must be, out and out, the first judge of these things in Great Britain."

"Yes, I think I know a little in that way," he returned. "Where did we get that wretched stuff, La Tour - from Paris?"

"Eh mais non, Monsieur." Adding with a contemptuous shrug - "Nous l'avons eu de ce Londres la bas!"

While the landlady, her daughters, nieces, and maids, were now all put under requisition by Lady Singleton, who was bustling through every room in the house, the landlord attended Mr. Vandaleur's summons in the parlor.

Irish innkeepers are generally gentlemen: they are gentlemen farmers, gentlemen excisement, gentlemen subsheriffs; but they are always gentlemen, and therefore most commonly above the subordinate situation of innkeepers. Mr. Alexander M'Donald however was not by extra profession a gentleman; not however that he was in the least more attentive or civil for being confined to what he professed - his manner and address were fair specimens of his class in the North of Ireland.

"Pray, Sir, what can we have for dinner?" asked Mr. Vandaleur - "any thing?"

"Well, ye just can - any thing ye please to call for."

Fish, for instance?" asked Mr. Vandaleur.

"Aye, troth, as gude as ever swam in the sea."

"What sort, pray? - salmon?"

"Troth, I dinna ken, tull the boats come in."

"So then we are to depend upon wind and tide for our dinner, I suppose?"

"Nay, ye munna depend on that - the mestress has kell'd her peg to-day: ye can take your choice from head to tail."

"Of a fresh-killed pig?" returned Mr. Vandaleur, with an inspiration amounting to a groan. "Have you not some small mutton peculiar to this country?"

"Not kell'd; but we wull the morrow. We have a nice wee bit of a hanuch of venison in the house, but - "

"A haunch of what in the house?" interrupted Mr. Vandaleur, starting on his legs.

"A haunch of venison, sent my mestress in lieu of some spenning she git done for Belly M'Adam, my Lord's gamekeeper at Glenarm, but I doubt it's but just meddling. Thou* is too stale, I doubt."

[*Thou - that.]

"Too stale - impossible!" exclaimed Mr. Vandaleur: "let me see it immediately. But who is to dress it?"

"Well, the woman just will."

"The woman - what woman? No woman upon earth can dress any thing. My servant will dress it under my direction. I will go to your kitchen, if you will try and get your disagreeable turf not to smoke."

Fin a hit* it shall smoke, I warrant you," returned Mr. M'Donald, laughing. "Fin a hit."

[*Fin a hit - Devil a bit. "Scarcely a trace of Irish language, customs, or story, can be found along the north coasts. The few who use the Celtic at all, speak a mixed dialect called Scotch-Irish." - See Hamilton's Letters on Antrim.]

"Can I be of any use to you, Mr. Vandaleur?" said Mr. Dexter, stepping forward. "I once understood that kind of thing pretty well: indeed, I belonged to a beef-steak club. I have my little silver gridiron somewhere; we wore it at our button-hole, with a rose-coloured ribbon."

"No, I thank you, Mr. Dexter; I'll try what I can do with La Tour; not that he is particularly excellent in that line."

"Pourtant, Monsieur!" returned La Tour. "Je fais mon petit possible!"

"We shall see," said Mr. Vandaleur; and he left the room accompanied by his valet and the host, while Mr. Dexter went to look after the stables, since he was not permitted to officiate in the kitchen.

During the culinary dialogue, Lady Florence and the Colonel, who stood leaning their fine figures against the chimney-piece, exchanging looks and smiles of ridicule and intelligence, now both burst into an immoderate fit of laughter at their friend's expence.

"Poor Mr. Vandaleur!" exclaimed Lady Florence: "he is an excellent person in his way: I have a great friendship for him: I have indeed."

"Which he returns," said the Colonel, "with an exclusive and profound devotion."

"No, I don't think that; but we go on very well together. You know the way one lets a man follow one, year after year, just meaning nothing at all. - I wish he would marry."

"If he did," said the Colonel, laughing, "it must be Mrs. Glass, or the complete Housekeeper."

And they were still laughing at this ben-trovato, when Lady Singleton bustled into the room.

"I have set," she said, "all the maids to scour the rooms; I have changed all the beds, and made the old SCOTCH-IRISH landlady, who has la Crasse of both nations on her hands, stare her eyes out - and now we must all walk, and see what is to be seen, while we have an hour's day-light. I want to walk down to the shore. I have taken it into my head from the view I have had of the strand, that there is excellent stuff there for repairing the roads; instead of which, our host tells me they are supplied from a whinstone quarry. - O! how Irish that is: the quarry is the least trouble. Mais allons: Mr. Glentworth and the girls are waiting for us at the hall-door, and Mr. Vandaleur is staying to superintend the venison: he would not even hear me speak on the subject."

The Colonel and Lady Florence followed her with shrugs of annoyance: the amour-propre of each supplied food and occupation to the other. The Colonel, vain and indifferent, flattered, that he might be flattered in turn; and Lady Florence, who saw with "equal eye,"

"A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,"

and who, in common with Madam de Maintenon, prized all conquests, from a porter's to a prince's, beheld with increasing satisfaction the progressive subjugation of the gallant Colonel. Besides, being flattered that a man who quizzed all the world had not only entered into an alliance with her, defensive and offensive, but was, in the truest sense of the word, quizzed by herself; for though she threw out lights to mislead his vanity, she was in fact as indifferent to him as to Mr. Vandaleur, and the rest of the world.

The party now proceeded on their ramble, led by Lady Singleton and Mr. Dexter, who descended towards the shore.

The sun was setting with great richness over the Heights of Sliabh-Barragh.* Volumes of purple clouds were floating in the atmosphere, and the glassy surface of the distant waters was here and there darkly spotted with fishing boats. Along the remoter shores, the curling smoke of the burning seaweed rose in azure columns, and broke into light vapours, throwing an aërial tint over the whole of the perspective. The entire foreground was bold and massive; the fantastic groupings of the rocks, scattered in grotesque forms along the shores of the Red Bay; the ruined Castle, rising above the caverned cliff,** and the Heights of Sliabh-Barragh cutting abruptly against the declining sun's red light, presented a combinations of scenic features of great vigour and boldness; rude and wild, indeed, but highly picturesque, and finely set off by the lights and shades of the season and hour. The group, alone, accidentally placed in the picture, were incongruities in the masterly composition.

[*The Irish language is extremely copious and fruitful in terms of scenic description: they have various epithets to mark observable heights rising above the surface of the earth. "Knock," signifies a low hill, standing single, without any continued range. "Sliabh," pronounced Sleeve, a high craggy mountain, ascending in ridges: the Biénn, or Benn, a mountain of the first magnitude, ending in an abrupt precipice.]

[**The caverns of this cliff consist of three chambers. They were once occupied as schoolrooms, though the path leading to them is frightfully precipitous.]

The tide was now coming in with such rapidity, that Mr. Glentworth proposed ascending among the rocks, before they were overtaken by its insidious incursion; and when they had attained the summit of one of the lower cliffs, he pointed out some of the most striking features in the scene; observing that many of the rocks, among which we had been a few minutes before, confidently loitering, were now entirely surrounded by water, and apparently isolated from the main coast.*

[*Doctor Hamilton, in his celebrated Letters on the Coast of Antrim, describes these shores as being fantastically beautiful.]

"It would have been quite an adventure," said Lady Florence, who had now, in a tête-a-tête converation with the Colonel, reached the very head and front of sentimental abstraction, "it would be quite an adventure to have been surrounded by the sea, while standing on one of those cliffs, wrapt in thought or heavenly pensive mediation."

"Pray observe that distant cliff to the left," said Mr. Glentworth. "Does it not represent just such an image as your Ladyship has conjured up? If the situation were not impractiable to human foot, would you not say that some fool-hardy person had balanced himself on that rocky pinnacle."

"I think, Sir," said Miss O'Halloran, abruptly, "it realizes the idea one has of the statue of Peter the Great placed on a solid rock."

Every body smiled; partly at the brogue, partly at the suddenness with which she broke through her long preserved silence.

"Your observation is very just, Miss O'Halloran," said Mr. Glentworth. "The form of that rock has, in the light we now see it, precisely the proportions and air of a well executed statue. - It seems almost to move upon the sight."

"Good Heavens! Why it does move," said Lady Florence.

"La! so it does!" said both the Miss Singletons in a breath.

"It is Peter the Great himself, no doubt," said the Colonel. - "Seriously, however, Miss O'Halloran, there really was a great deal of imagination in your remark."

"O, there is nobody so clever as Miss O'Halloran, I am sure," returned Lady Florence.

Lady Singleton, and Mr. Dexter, who was filling his pockets with pebbles, at her Ladyship's commands now approached; and Mr. Glentworth pointed out the figure on the rock to her, saying:

"You may be certain that is the presiding Genius of the shore; and he has risen from the waves, to accuse you and Mr. Dexter of the thefts you are committing on his territories."

"That," said Lady Singleton, raising her glass, "that is some foolish person looking for samphire; but I can tell him he is amazingly mistaken, if he thinks to get any on this description of rock."

"Mistaken, indeed," echoed Mr. Dexter.

"What!" said the Colonel - "Peter the Great transformed into a samphire gatherer! - What an anti-climax!"

"Whoever it be," said Mr. Glentworth, "he certainly appears to set no great value upon life; for, as he now stands, he seems, at this distance at least, to be in a most perilous situation. One false step would precipitate him into that mass of waters, which roars between the two opposite rocks."

Almost as he spoke, the person sprung from his giddy station, and to all appearance sunk into the waves. The ladies screamed.

"It is some wretched suicide," cried Lady Florence, faintly. "I fear I shall faint - I shall indeed: I have not nerves for this - "

"Fly, Mr. Glentworth, down to the shores," cried Lady Singleton: "let a boat be put out directly - he shall yet be saved."

Mr. Glentworth was already out of hearing. He had sprung down the rocks with the agility of eighteen, followed by Miss O'Halloran; while the Colonel and the Miss Singletons remained with Lady Florence.

"Shall I go, and try to be of some assistance?" said Mr. Dexter, without moving a step.

"No, no," said Lady Singleton; "sit down quietly here. Keep all your breath. We must save this poor man. You shall blow into his mouth and nostrils, Mr. Dexter: 'tis a thing done every day. I'll save him; only observe my orders. I am quite au fait to suspended animation. I have sent some useful hints to the Society."

"But if the man is drowned?" said Mr. Dexter, in some trepidation, and seating himself as he was desired.

"No matter for that: mind me; and we shall recover him all the same."

Mr. Glentworth now waved his hat from below, and the next moment, followed by the governess, ascended the rocks.

"All is safe!" he cried out, as he approached; "all is right. We could not see, at this distance, that the man jumped into a boat, aanchored under the shadow of the rock on which he stood; and not, as we supposed, into the sea. Neither is the rock so high and precipitous as the particular direction of the evening shadows makes it appear."

"How tiresome!" said Lady Singleton, disappointed that there was nothing to do.

"And to have one's feelings put to the torture for nothing at all," added Lady Florence, languidly: while, as the whole party directed their steps towards home, from which they were more than a mile distant, Mr. Glentworth pointed out to them the object of their former solicitude, rowing his little boat under the rocks on which they were walking, his sole companion a dog, which appeared, even at that distance, of immense size, and who sat in the stern.

"The whole little set-out," said Mr. Glentworth, "partially tinged as it is with light, is extremely picturesque."

"Is it not very like a drawing we copied of La Port's, Horatia?" asked Miss Singleton.

"So it is, Caro; only there is no tree in the corner. I believe there ought always to be a tree in the corner of a real landscape."

The boat now disappeared behind a little promontory of rocks, and the ramblers gradually descended towards a strandy beach where the tide had not intruded, wearied of acclivities and declivities, in spite of Mr. Glentworth's advice to keep on the heights.

They were now within view of the inn, and scarcely half a mile distant, when they again perceived the little boat undulating near the shore, and empty; a little in advance, the rower, with his gigantic dog lying at his feet, was seated on a fragment of rock, and seemed busily employed in breaking up some stones, which, as he effected, he threw into a little basket beside him. The party had now approached so near as to alarm the dog, who sprung forward with a dreadful yell to attack them. The ladies screamed, the gentlemen parried his attack with their canes, and the stranger starting up, cried with a voice deep as the tones of the gigantic animal they commanded: "Bran!" The dog crept back growling to his master's feet, who, removing the fur cap with covered his head, said: -

"Pray, pass on, there is no danger whatever to be apprehended from the dog."

When the ladies had passed, he resumed his cap and occupation, and began to hammer as before. The contrast exhibited in his person, manner, dress, and occupation, was so striking, as to keep the party for a moment silent, from surprize. They had supposed him a fisherman, and his address and air were not only those of a gentleman, but of a distinguished gentleman.

He was, however, pretty nearly clad in the costume of the profession they had assigned him: his whole dress consisted of a grey jacket and trowsers, a black silk neck handkerchief, and a fur cap; but his person, though so little set off by the advantages of dress, was conspicuously fine: his height was majestic; and his head for a moment exhibited, as he drew off his cap, was so little the head of a common man, that is had attracted the notice and admiration of Lady Florence, who exclaimed: -

"What an extraordinary looking person! What a magnificent head! Take him with his eyes and his dog, altogether he is by much the finest thing I ever saw in my life: who can he be?"

"Why, a surveyor of the roads, or something of that sort," returned Lady Singleton, with a tone of decision. "The innkeeper told me there was such a person in the neighbourhood, and indeed I meant to send for him before I leave this place, and rate him soundly for the shameful state of which we have found the roads: nay, I may as well take the present opportunity."

To Lady Florence's great satisfaction, and Mr. Glentworth's great dismay, she turned quickly back and approached the stranger, who rose as she drew near, keeping his hand on his dog's neck, as he also started up with a faint growl.

"I beg pardon, Sir," said Lady Singleton, taking up some flints from his basket: "pray of what strata are these shores composed? I have a particular reason for wishing to know."

The stranger, with evident surprize marked in his countenance, replied, after a moment's hesitation, and throwing his eyes rapidly over the group: -

"I have not accurately examined them, Madam, beyond the mere surface, but I believe this particular line of shore consists of a series of red sandstone, intersected by strata of granite, and containing, in certain directions, veins of calcareous spar."

Lady Singleton threw round a look at the rest of the party, who now, with the exception of Mr. Glentworth, incircled the stranger, as if to say - "you see I was right," then addressing the stranger, she said: -

"Well, Sir, I must say that you do not turn your knowledge to much account, for your roads are as bad as if you were totally ignorant of the materials with which these shores furnish you to repair them; and, I must also say, that I do not understand how people can go on forever taking the King's money without performing the services expected and required by the government: the using whin-stone is merely, I suppose, to make a job, as the quarry is private property, while the strand affords such pebbles as these. - Come here, Mr. Dexter, shew this gentleman the pebbles we have picked up."

Mr. Dexter busily emptied his pockets into his hat, crying: -

"The roads are as her Ladyship observes, in execrable order;" and he raised his eyes to the stranger's face to discover the effect produced by the title of Ladyship. But the stranger, exhibiting no other emotion in his countenance that the most profound amazement, observed: -

"I beg pardon; but I rather suppose, Madam, you must mistake me for some other person."

"No, no," interrupted Lady Singleton, "I am not so liable to be mistaken. I know very well you are the person I wanted particularly to see - you are the surve