sure enough; and every body went away very soon. But not a bit of man or baste was ever seen after that blessed day; and that's the reason it was called Pulcahil ever since."

I

Little Paudeen Ruadth, (or Red Paddy,) was about 105 years old when I heard this sad story from him, in 1805. He was probaby fifteen at the time of the event, which fixes its precise period in April, 1717. Since that time there had been ten persons lost in the same place; all under very marked and peculiar circumstances, such as to invest this fatal and portentous Hole with an unquestionable claim upon the attention of the curious. This attraction is much heightened by the general belief in that part of the country, that eleven more persons are still to be lost in the same place. could never very clearly ascertain how this melancholy fact has been ascertained. This much is undoubted, that in every case of this kind which has occurred, the red cloud, very much resembling the reflection which a furnace, or some other strong fire, throws upward on the clouds in a dark night; invariably appears above the Hole. As to the real source of this there is much difference of opinion. Besides this awful sign, there are some other strange circumstances pretty generally known, which are, in no small measure, calculated to help out the general effect of these already mentioned. Sometimes late of a summer evening when strangersfor strangers only durst venture there at such hourswhen strangers are crossing by the good broad path which passes close over the steep bank which conceals Charley's Hole-until one almost steps into it-quite ignorant of where they are; all of a sudden, (I shall always retain the language of my informant,) sweet music is heard, and a garden full of smiling posies, or beautiful groves, just like the groves of Blarney, with gay fruit trees, all covered with apples and plumbs, and fair young girls pulling away, and laughing, and dancing, and singing such pretty songs, and looking so comical and bewitching; or may be a regular ball, with half a dozen pipers, and tables laid out with all the best of good eating and drinking; or, perhaps, a nate cottage, with a fine fire crackling and blazing away in the chimly, and a good-looking farmer-like man at the door to say cead milie failte, and ask one in to take an air of the fire. And, sure enough, this was exactly what happened to Atty Muldoon, over at the crossroads. But Atty was up to the thing, bekase he used always to be going the road with Father Mike every night from the big house, and from Buck M'Dermit's, and all the great houses in the country, for Father Mike was very great with the whole set of them. Augh, 'tis he was the pleasant company for the quality anyhow-glory to his sowl! But, as I was saying, Atty was a cute boy, and knew the ways of every thing supernatural. Well, then, sure enough, Atty was just crossing the hill to go down to a wake that was at Carabawn that night, and his way was right down by the Hole; but Atty was a gay, airy, rolicking blade, and its little he thrubled himself about it. The night was pleasant and starry, and there was a rush-light glimmer upon the hills, from the new moon that was just going down behind the trees of Infield. Well, then, all of a suddent, what should Atty hear but a gay blast out of the pipes, all as one as if it was at his very ears, rattling away with the "swaggering jig," until Atty's heart was jigging up into his very throat with

admirashun, "Well," says Atty to himself, for he was the cute and sensible boy anyway, "this flogs the the world; sure there is'nt a living sowl within a mile iv this, barring the stone wall there below-and the Widdy O'Roorke's ould house, aud nobody living in it these twelve years back. Well, on he went stout enough for he was a brave lad, and had a good supin; and as he come on, the pipes grew louder every step, and he could hear the boys and girls talking aud laughing away ike mad-and then the feet thribbling it away, on the flure, at a great rate entirely. "Well, well," says Atty," but there's great doins here," just then, as he was speaking, he came up to the rise of the hill, and sure enough there was the sport in arenest. Before him there stood a fine big slated house, with a white wall, and the shine of twinty mowld candles straming out from the door and the windys, and a great gethering of beautiful dressed boys and girls, laughing, and screeching, and dancing away for the bare life. The door was standing wide open, and a fine brave ould gintleman, drest like any lord in the land, was just coming out of it. Well, then, surely enough, as soon as he cast his eye upon Atty, he shouted out quite free and asey-like, “Arrah, thin, Atty Muldoon, is that yourself; its right glad to see you I am; come in, come in, my fine fellow; yourself is kindly welcome, Come in, my gay boy, come in."

"Well, the sorra the likes of this I ever heard," says Atty to himself, afeard the great gintleman would hear him. But as he was always a very civil boy, and quick with his manners, he answered up in a moment, "I thank your honour kindly, Sir; but it's going asthray I am in these parts, and I'd be greatly behouldin' to your honour if you'd be afther telling me the way to the Widdy Casey's to night."

"Is it the Widdy Casey's, Atty? Just step in and I'll be with you myself, wid two or three more boys that's going that way in the twinkling of a thunderboult,"

66

Why, thin, I thank you kindly, Sir," says Atty; "but there's Pat Noonan and Billy Hurley a little taste over the hill on before, and its wanting to be in with them I'd be."

Augh, thin, sorra take you with your ceremony ; can't you be coming in at wanst, and not keep us waiting in the cowld air. Sure, isn't it Billy Hurley and Pat Noonan that's here waiting for you this half hour, you aumadhawn," says the great gintleman, all the time walking on wid great long steps, this ways up to Atty; and when he stood up close before him, in the dim star-light, sure enough Atty thought it was the ould boy himself. Well, thin, he took Atty just this ways by the collar, and dragged him on towards the door of the great house, saying, as he was going, "Come along now, my boy, Noonan and Hurley's in here, and it's they is taking the raal sup. Come along my gay boy, you musn't go without a proper skintui of the best this blessed night."

Well, sure enough, Atty was a cute boy, and something came across him just then, and he grew terribly afeard; and instead of going with the ould boy, he pult agin him with might and main. Away they kept pulling both of them: the ould gentleman making believe to be quite good-nathured all the time, and saying, every moment, "Sure Noonan and Hurley is within ;" and poor Atty saying nothing all the while,

only pulling away for his life. got a terrible pull out and out

Well, thin, at last he

from the ould lad.

Augh, thin, holy St. Biddy, what's this for ?" says Atty. Well, thin, to be sure, the moment be named the blessed saint, away went the house, and the trees, and the laughing, and the noise, and the ould gintleman, just in one flash of lightening; and there was Atty standing all alone by himself. And there was the hole of Pulcahil, sure enough, and Atty just within one foot of the edge of it-deuce a word o'lie in it. But one step more would have done his business for him.

Well, Sir, when the morning came poor Atty took to his bed; but no one knew what was become of Paddy Noonan and Bill Hurley, till Atty got well enough to tell the whole story. Then ould Pat Hadian, of Carane below, who had always a great head-piece, said, “Why, thin, now boys, may be the ould gintleman-if gintleman he be-tould the truth for wanse in his life; let yees go and be thrying the Hole."

Well, all of us went next morning; and by this blessed stick, there was Noonan and Hurley sure enongh; and it was the pitiful sight to see the two poor boys, and both of them having a wife and six childer, come up that morning to the top of the water, with the mark of the same ould gintleman's ugly hands upon them both."

We might easily fill a book with other facts equally curious and authentic-but there is a general similarity throughout this class of events, and little variation in the history of most of these escapes; some have escaped narrowly, by leaving hat or coat behind in the struggle, which mostly takes place; but the most approved expedient, in this trying emergency, is to repeat a charm or a prayer to the saint of the day, all the while holding a stick in such a manner as to stop the progress forward; when this is recollected the danger is not very great, as the illusive appearances commonly melt away, and the water becomes distinctly visible, during the process; the only consequence on such occasions is a slight fit of illness, occasioned by the nervous shock, said to be experienced in every instance this we can readily believe, the whole thing is, indeed, quite natural. It is to be observed that much valuable information has been lost owing to the circumstances that some of the parties concerned have not come back to tell their story.

DREAMS.

a pleasant dream

At best can be but dreaming,

And if the true may never beam

Ob! who would slight the seeming.".-PRAED.

I go yet I am smiling,

I weep, yet am not sad,

Tho' a dream be all beguiling,

Yet a dream hath made me glad ;And darkness, like the raven,

May be brooding from afar,

Yet my bark shall leave the haven
With a dream it's polar star,

A form hath been before me,

And its look was like to thine,—

A cloud hath floated o'er me,
But its colour was divine,—

I saw the future lying

Like a map before my eye,-
And that form was still undying-
And the cloud had floated by!

To make a dream an omen
To guide me on my way !
To trust me to a woman!—
What will the wise ones say?

I care not-than the seeming
They have nothing more to show,-
Oh! there's many a bliss in dreaming
Those wise ones never know!

JOHN BULL.

Mr. John Bull is very self-complimentary on his character for straight-forwardness. Are you a stranger to him, reader? If you have lived only with him, and heard only his account of himself, you are, indeed. If however, you have looked much among other people, you may have been tempted into a little thinking; (though this does not always follow-I have known many of his family who returned as unprejudiced as they set out on the journey ;) you may have compared him with others. However the case stands, I caution you, if you have any trade with this straight-forward gentleman, do not venture at him, straightforwardly; if you do, you will pitch upon his horns: or, take my word for it, (if you have not tried the experimnet,) he will slip aside-and “ rattle” and “ crack” your sconce cries out against the wall, to which he delegates the office of receiving and welcoming you. "He likes a man to he straightforward; he hates all circumvention and all circumlocution; he is mathematician enough to know that the shortest road between two points is in a straight line." This is part of that system of morality the words of which he has been told: the matter taught is different, You must tell him you know he does, and is, &c., or you can never prevail with him. Tickle him, dose him, stuff him with flummery, oil him, grease him, give him his pap with a ladle, daub him with honey and treacle; but, oh! carefully and diligently eschew all mustard and cayenne in your administered mixtures. How he will bellow, and roar, and butt, if you offer them to him! Though these are ingredients he cannot abide himself, he is bounteous in his dispensation of them,-really so; and is thrown. into ecstacies when he sees them hite, excoriate, and exacerbate his friends and neighbours. Do not forget this; you can try it on emergency; it will be your point of refuge when all things else fail; a dernier ressort, in which you will be certain to meet safety, and Mr. John Bull's most liberal patronage. But other matter for him: though your gorge may rise, yet persevere, you cannot satiate, you cannot cloy him. Go on, I and you will be the victor, and he your dupe. As sure as you are born, you will be impaled if you attack him in any other way; or if once, after you begin to dose him, you grow ashamed, or sick of the work and draw off, expect to die in a ditch, for all his first impressions are the offsprings, the shootings, the twitchings of his habitual suspicion. I was about to call it his natural suspicion, but it is not that. It is true, he imbibes it so early that you may trace it as far back as his first draught of mother's milk; it is irresistible; mechanical to him as a spoon to his soup.

say

:

All first advances, he eyes with a knowing suspecting, detecting glance. A clever fellow is Mr. John Bull ! "He is not a going to be taken in!" not he! Never mind that, but on—on—on, I say, and he will soon close both his eyes, as a cat does when you tickle him under the ear; then it is that Mr. John Bull thinks his vision most perfect, most clear, and you may plunge your hands each into a pocket of his breeches; then be sure you call him generous Briton or Englishman, for "he detests flattery," he says, (which is a bit of the system,) or woe betide you for “ an ungrateful vaga

bond," &c.

O glorious and renowned Mr. John Bull! Look, yonder stands his castle, entrenched by a ditch of caution, fifty feet wide and sixty deep, triply circumvallated by suspicion, bastioned by mistrust, barriered by stamp-receipts, portcullised by a certificate, drawbridged by a document, Casements barred and closed -loop-holes spiked-crenelles, every inch of them, cheveux-de-frized. There is the gate-there is the drawbridge-up-and a road here directly leading to

them.

:

Blow the horn-ring the bell-knock, knock, knock, at the outer barrier. All in vain! He is not to be seen, Ha! there he is; peeping through a loophole again-higher up-shaking his sapient noddle at the crenelles. "This house is mine." Hear you this absolute mine? It is exploded with a pluff, as if a barrel of soap-suds had blown out the bung. Every brick in these walls, which you are staring at is mine. (Mrs and the young ones use the plural, but Master scorns all cases except the possessive singular.) Gates, doors, windows, chimneys, here are mine. The mud in that ditch is mine; every bubble that spirts up on it belongs to me: they are my bubbles, sir! That is my road which you are on." The sky overhead is his, but he does not say so he fears you would laugh at him (another bit of the system :) nettles, weeds and cobwebs, are all his. The vermin in the garret, the mice in the pantry, and the rats in the barn, are not his; he absolves them from all allegiance; else they belong to his neighbour, who sends them here to sponge on his good nature and plenty. "How do you do, sir ?" "Bow! wow! wow!" "You are quite well, I hope, Mr. John Bull," He hears you not: he is gone to unchain and unmuzzle the mastiffs. You cannot find entrance that way; but do not despair; look round: reconnoitre the fortress. Ha! there you see a vulnerable crown-work; that is BASTION GULLIBLE; fire away! again! again! there, you batter in breach; he welcomes the assault; he capitulates; down drawbridge up portcullis ! "Knaves, make haste; do not keep a gentleman waiting at my gates." He greets you heartily; "Welcome, sir; welcome to Wheedle Castle." (I have translated the name of the place with a view to your better understanding it; it goes by a different appellation.) Take me as your invisible mentor, be you Telemachus, reader, through the mansions and grounds he obliquely shows to you. From winebins in the cellar to lumber in the attics, from porch at entrance to the dunghill behind the stables, the hospitable, courteous, free-hearted fellow escorts you, communicative, descriptive, and explanatory in all. Up to the turret-leads with him you go. There is a glorious prospect! every way, far and near, all around,―rich, verdant, various, beautiful! My land extends about half a mile over the hill; you see the hill yonder?—

66

"Yes, I see it; with a carpet of eye-gladdening ver dure, surrounded on three sides by a crisp and clumpy copse half way down it, and at its foot a liquid ribbon sparkling, fluttering, and waving: beautiful.! Nature! here, indeed, thou art lovely. I bow to her in worship, sir."-" Mad as a March hare," stares Mr. John Bull; but he is silent, and becomes semi-sulky. Hark ye, Telemachus, you will be swamped to a certainty; that is not the kind of talk you are to hold to Mr. John Bull; you must admire and envy the owner of the beauty, for all his sense of it is in possession : it is his. So let it be thus, "Ah! sir, you have a noble estate, a magnificent one, in high cultivation; does you honour, sir; honour to your taste, and skill, and agricultural knowledge." "I am glad you like it ". Mended, Telemachus; but not exactly the thing yet. Remember, it is the ownership which make the cockles of his heart "to leap." And there, just turning to the eastward of that plantation, is a most charming and inviting spot; fertility embraced by seclusion; there, the willow, and ash, and shrubs, bending to gaze at their own beauty in the mirror that flashes below them. I am sure you are often tempted to sit there, with a book or a'-"That, sir, is not mine." Blank again! Get back into the house. He has something else to show you: no hope of you here.

"You have not seen my pictures-and my sculptures: here they are, sir." A coup d'œil from the collection at once enchains your faculties before you examine more closely and in detail. "Admirable effect, excellent judgment in the arrangement, sir.”"Yes; I paid

66

66

a man five guineas a day while he was doing it, and all his expenses."-" What! doing all his expences? Oh, I understand." That was a slip, Telemachus; he half-suspected you. " Money well expended, Mr. John Bull. That is a Correggio. Beautiful! divine emanation of genius!" Fine picture, is it not, sir?” "Indeed it is, Mr. John Bull. Exquisite Correggio! And that statue, too. Canova has waved the marble over with lights and shadows of spiritual beings, and breathing existence. Correggio and Canova, side by side, brother in immortality"-" The fellow is cracked! again stares Mr. John Bull. Pish! you simpleton, Telemachus; what cares he for Correggio or Canova? You should say, they have cost you a great sum:" He loves to be elicited on these matters; or, "you are a fortunate man to possess these treasures." Why, yes," says he "I love to patronize") that is his phrase) "the arts, as every gentleman ought whose fortune will enable him to afford to do so." Ha, right, right now, Telemachus; you may elaborate safely; you have struck the right chord; his drowsy soul awakened at the sound. It is he who must be the object of your admiration; he, the possessor; he, the owner of these pictures and sculptures. Correggio and Canova be hanged! What were they but two onion-munching, saffron, bilious-faced Italians! he can buy them both. Now proceed onwards through that door; within the recess is another-baized, brass-nailed, gilt-leathered, and noiseless; no creaking, no jar; it turns in deferential silence on its hinges, It is the portal to the sacred precints of the library. Enter. How calm is

every thing here! how mildly subdued the light! Imagination, wisdom, knowledge, thought, inspiration, beautiful intelligence in repose; and all is in pinbreadth order; nothing displaced, nothing disturbed;

the position of that portfolio -the inkstand-central and rectangular, measured to their place with the accuracy of compass and rule. Your eyes rest upon the marshalled volumes-an army of spirits--and how splendid their backs and bindings! plethoric in tooling and gilding, (as the binders call it ;) gay as the gingerbread in a booth at Greenwich fair: do but examine the richness of the carving of those shelves, the pilas. ter divisions, &c. They are all his, all Mr. John Bull's, who is standing beside you. "I am the proprietor of all at which you are gazing with so much admiration," is in his thought. Approach nearer ; bring your optics within reading distance of the lettering of the tomes; run up and down and laterally, all favorite, fashionable, well-known, well-bepuffed, and all standard works. Some, too, you may see, on which enthusiasm may exhaust its essence in laudation, and yet wish for power to speak the sum of half that is due and deserved. Is Shelley there? No. Is-or-oror?

No-no-no; not one whom the system excludes. Shakspeare? Ay, ay; he would not be English were Shakspeare not in his library. A thought flashes; you would refer to Shakspeare for it. Look, their is the volume, You advance your hand; it is upon it; not quite. "Hah!" from Mr. John Bmll checks you; he sees your hand is ungloved; such is his reverence for Shakspeare, you think, perhaps; but he is touched with remorse a little, and permits you to draw it from the ranks, first casting a look at your fingers in question of their need of ablution. You open the tome; the leaves adhere to each other; as fresh and as free from touch is every page as at the hour the book was taken from under the binders' press. What should you say? What but, "Mr. John Bull, you have the most elegant copy of the divine bard I ever saw Telemachus, your fortune is made; he will give a hundred, ay, a thousand dinners on the strength of your so saying; no man in the world like him; so hold to that, if you can; but no. you burst out again with some absurd stuff, some silly enthusiasm on the greatest man that ever lived to bless men with fellowship; the unapproachable, yet free; the vast the magnificent spirit," (Mr. John Bull, if perchance he has picked up antiquarianism enough, thinks of the butcher's shop at Stratford-on Avon, and turns aside to smile,)and "nature's most playful, simple, sinless child." A bell: dinner waits. Your host respectfully bows, begs you will precede him; your last observations have battered him into the most dignified politeness; he is now the very pink of courtesy, for you are such an ass. Pass through the hall towards the dining-room; he begs your pardon for an instant while he retires; can you guess for what purpose? No, not you, Innocent creature! you have no curiosity that way. Guess; you cannot. Hear it from me he goes to countermand the order which, in your hearing, he gave an hour ago to the butler to bring up some of the old 1805:" it is his supernaculum. Your last burst has undone you. You are not a guest to his liking, so an humble vintage will do for you, and he to-day will do a violence to his own palate, a most heroical self-sacrifice. See what affliction you have brought upon yourself! what loss you sustained by neglecting my counsel. However, mend your play, and you may recover the lost trick.

His table reeks abundance: I hate enumeration of these things, I care little for their presence. I do notrun

from them, but I will not seek them-scarcely credible, you say, because you do not know me sufficiently. The best dinner that ever displayed the skill of the cuisinier, would not allure me to walk across the street for it, if the cravings of hunger could be appeased by a more readier access to food; even a roasted potatoe I prefer to many dinners, because I am, at these, expected to partake of entremets and sauces which I somewhat nauseate; yet do not imagine I am so much of a philosopher as to hate " good living;" but it must come to me. Hold! I am talking while you are eating. "Now, sir, do you know you are eating a piece of one of those very oxen that were passing when the mob pelted his majesty's carriage at Brentford ?" O noble beef-oh worshipful bullock! you drop your tools in astonishment, check your mastication's speed, let your jaws civilly distend, stare with both your eyes on the wondrous roast, draw a huge breath to inflate your lungs sufficiently, then explode with "Ha, indeed!" or you are a ruined man: tis done, a glass of wine in honour of the bullock's memory; now eat away again! "A slice of that ham with your turkey, I can recommend it; you have read Johnny Gilpin?" "I have, Mr, Bull,"—"Well that ham is from a pig bred from the one his horse ran over at Edmon ton"-" Hah?"—" Yes, sir my father bought the whole farrow, sow all; and they and their children have been in our family ever since." Oh, sacred pork, oh John Bull-honoured pig! "Well, Mr. John Bull, you have laid me under eternal obligations-this is kindness, sir."—" Sir, I am glad you like it."-" Nothing, Mr. John Bull, can exhibit your,"-(I have emphasized the your, be you very gentle in doing it)" nothing can exhibit your taste and judgment more decidedly; I am sure I am fortunate, rendered happy by this day. Pray, Sir, if I dared tax your liberality to such a degree, may I-you could not, could you, sir?""What?" he responds-" any-thing that is in my power," you see he melts. "I shall be happy to oblige such a gentleman as you always, sir."--" Why sir, you are very kind; may I venture to ask, can you permit me to carry from your hospitable mansion some token, some momento of the owner's liberality and taste? It may be I am asking too much, but pardon the desires which yourself have created. Can you spare me a few of the bristles from that pig, if they are not all gone, and a paring from the horn or hoof of that ox?"

6.

Certainly, I shall have very great pleasure, but we'll have our dessert and wine first; you may rely on me; and Wilkins," (aloud) "where is the old 1805, that I ordered you to bring up? come, let us have it.""Yes, sir, yes," says Wilkins, and exit. There -well done, well done: keep it up thus, and the best in the house, garden, or cellar, is at your command; the first peach, strawberry, or pine from the hot-house that season, is gathered for your welcome; he entreats, he presses all on you, becomes joyous, free, hearty, communicative, the bristles and hoof-paring have vanquished his dignity. Then comes the lively interchange of thought. He withholds nothing; now will he show you his secret, most mysterious and sacred treasures, There is one in that or molu and rose-wood cabinet which he, speechless, unlocks; from it draws a small case, it is something, exquisitely precious-open-so: within it, bandaged and rebandaged, folded and refolded is the precious he lays it under your dilated eyes.

Why, you

“Now, sir, what do you think of that?" think it is a bit of dried mud, or particles of sand and earth. After a pause of minute inspection, "I cannot guess, Mr. Bull."-" Well, sir, I will tell you that is a bit of the identical spot of ground on which Dennis Collins planted his wooden leg when he threw a stone at his Majesty, at Ascot races!" "No-0-0-0!" you exclaim, can it be possible ?"-" True, sir, the very same, sir, I gave the constable that captured him three guineas for it; and here is a certificate of the truth, sworn to, on oath, sir, in the presence of two of my brother magistrates!"—" Oh, for one single grain of that sacred sand! Mr. John Bull, you, indeed, are a man-if-how I envy you the possession of that precious treasure!" "You shall have a grain, two grains, sir, to put you in mind of Wheedle-hall occasionally." Here you become the most social of friends, the hap piest convivialists that ever hob-and-nobbed together. So you go on smiling at each other, delighted with each other's agreeable companionship, and he blesses you by putting into your hands the objects of your desiresthe last and holiest pledge of his respect for you, viz: six bristles of that pig, an inch of hoof-paring of that ox, and two grains of that sand: and you bid "good night." He is alone-look at him, as he now sticks his thumbs into his breeches pockets, now uniting them in repose behind; look at him, I say, as he stumps up and down the room; he moves as no other man on earth moves; his head, neck, shoulders, arms, chest, trunk, are labourers to his legs; the upper part of him is employed in carrying the lower from place to place; they are not at all reciprocants. Well, there he is repeating to himself, "What a generous, gentlemanly, hospitable, and wealthy man that fellow must think me!" Exceptions do not make rules.

STANZAS. To ***

"She sung of Love, while o'er her lyre

The rosy rays of evening fell."-Moore's Melodies.

If thou would'st pause to wake a string
That will not bear to play.--

If thou would'st yet unloose the wing,
So chainless yesterday;

If thou be st not that heartless one,
And false as thou art bright;

With smiles for all-and tears for none-
Sing not-sing not to night.

I may have sought, what all would seek,
And knelt, where all would kneel;
The pulse might throb,-the heart be weak,
And yet the lip conceal;

And had I never heard the song,

Or paused upon the tone;

That pulse might yet be free and strong,
That sercet still my own.

I might be formed to love, and feel
Love-life-and all decay,-

I was not made to weep, and kneel
As I have knelt to-day:

And had I deemed the heart I nursed
Could sue for such a healing,
Iwould have seen it wither first,
Ere I had stooped to kneeling.

I'll meet thee where the gayest meet;
One look shall not distress ;-
I'll greet thee as the others greet,
With words as meaningless ;-

I'll try to feel as heretofore,

Or deaden feeling's spring,-
So thou wilt sing those songs no more,
Where I may hear thee sing

Yet one, thou said'st but yesterright,
Thy lip should learn for me!-
Oh! when thou sing'st, and all is bright
Around thy path-and thee,

If thou dost feel but half I felt

Where first those echoes rung;
I will not mourn that I have knelt,
Or weep that thou hast sung.

THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BOY.

A TALE OF TICONDEROGA.

In the spring of the year 1775, a troop of horse-men might be seen winding their way down that part of the Green Mountains which lies east of the head of lake Champlain, by the rude and rugged pathway leading into the western plain. Their rout lay around the side of Killington peak, which arose on their right in lonely magnificence, to the elevation of several thousand feet above the level of the lake; on their left, less stupendous, but partaking of the same wild aspect, were piled, heap on head, irregular ridges and immense round-topped eminences covered with forests. The sun had not yet surmounted the eastern summits, and, as they passed between the towering walls of rocks, sometimes with impending cliffs, at others with the gigantic forest trees, forming an arch above their heads, their way was frequently uncheered by a single ray of light, and their course down the perilous precipice was directed only by the voice of the brawling torrent, which fretted and dashed over the successive ledges of the mountain side. Yet still they held on their way untired and unfaltering. They were generally men of robust and hardy frame, and bold, undaunted bearing. Had they been encountered on the Alps or Appennines, they might have been, at first, deemed banditti, proceeding to the attack of a monastry or the sack of a village; yet a closer scrutiny would have discovered in their fearless but frank and ruddy visages no features of the robber or assassin .In the poor and honest region they were traversing, the most romantic imagination could not, for an instant, place them in the degraded class of freebooters: yet there was that of the wild and picturesque about them, which, combined with the surrounding scenery, might be worthy of the pencil of Salvator Rosa, What then was their character? They were not mere hunters, for although several among them carried rifles, many were armed with weapons never used in the chase; while, in their general equipment, their order of movement, and silent acquiescence in the directions of individuals recognised as leaders, although without martial insignia there could be observed a marked military character, Might they not be of those who had combined to resist the execution of the mandates of the governor of New York, which, it was well known, had for their object to force the bold and industrious settlers on the Hampshire grants from their hard-earned lands and possessions? This supposition would be strengthened by there being perceived among them more than one who had been outlawed, and a price set on their heads for their resistance to those arbitrary edicts. This idea, too, appeared to be encouraged by themselves, in their brief and passing intercourse with the few inhabitants who