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"SiR, I have red your paltrey appollogej
for your nephew's breech of promis. I beg to
tell you, that a lady of the family of Clinch
will not submit to be ensulted with impun-
nitey. My neece is packed and reddy; and if
your friend does not apear acording to apoint-
ment, he will shortly here as will not plase
him, from yours to command,

" HONOR COGAN, otherwise CLINCH.

"Hawthorn Cotage, Friday morning."

Twelve o'clock passed and we "waited the
result of Mrs. Cogan's threats, when the waiter
showed up a visitor, and Mr. Christopher
Clinch, the prime cause of all our misfortunes,
presented himself. He persisted in standing,
or more properly stooping for the ceiling was
not quite six feet from the floor coughed
hoped his interference might adjust the mis-
take, as he presumed it must be on the part
of Lieutenant Kennedy, and begged to inform
him that Miss Jemima O'Brien was ready to
accompany the said Mr. Kennedy, as last night
arranged. Captain Rattigan took the liberty
to remark, that he, the captain, had been very
explicit with Mrs. Cogan, and requested to
refer to his letter, in which Mr. Kennedy's
sentiments were fully conveyed, and, on his
part, to decline the very flattering proposal of
Miss Jemima O'Brien. Mr. Clinch stated that
an immediate change of sentiment on the part
of Mr. Kennedy was imperative, or that Mr.
K. would be expected to favour him, Mr. C.,
with an interview in the Priest's Meadow.



Captain Rattigan acknowledged the request of
Mr. Clinch to be a very reasonable alternative,
and covenanted that Mr. Kennedy should
appear at the time and place mentioned ; and
Mr. Clinch was then very ceremoniously con-
ducted down stairs by the polite commander.

Through motives of delicacy, I had at the
commencement of the interview retired to the
next apartment ; and as the rooms were only
separated by a boarded partition, I overheard
through a convenient chink with desperate
alarm, Captain Rattigan giving every facility
to my being shot at in half-an-hour in the
Priest's Meadow. No wonder then Rat found
me pale as a spectre, when bursting into the
room he seized me by the hand, and told me
he had brought this unlucky business to a
happy termination. He, the captain, dreaded
that Jemima would have been looking for legal
redress ; but, thank God, it would only end in
a duel.

I hinted at the chance of my being shot.

"Shot!" exclaimed my comforter, "why,
what the deuce does that signify? If indeed
you had been under the necessity of hanging
yourself, like the one-eyed major, it would
have been a hardship. No funeral honours
no decent wake but smuggled into the earth
like a half-bale of contraband tobacco; but,
in your case, certain of respectable treatment
reversed arms dead march and Christian
burial : vow to God, quite a comfort to be shot
under such nattering circumstances! Frank,
you have all the luck of the Rattigans about
you!" and, opening the door, he hallooed
"Myke Mykle Boyle, bring down the pace-
makers to the parlour."

In a few seconds I heard the captain and his
man busily at work, and by a number of vil-
lanous clicks, which jarred through my system
like electricity, I found these worthies were
arranging the commander's pace-makers for
my use in the Priest's Meadow.

At the appointed hour I reached the ground,
which was but a short distance from the inn.
Rattigan and Bircham accompanied me, and
Myke Boyle followed with the tool*. Mr.
Christopher Clinch and his friends were wait-
ing for us; and a cadaverous-looking being
was peeping through the hedge, whom I after-
wards discovered to be the village apothecary,
allured thither by the hope of an accident, as
birds of prey are said to be collected by a
chance of carrion.

The customary bows were formally inter-
changed between the respective belligerents
the ground correctly measured pistols squib-
bed, loaded, and delivered to the principals.

I felt very queer on finding myself opposite
a truculent fellow of enormous height, with a
pair of projecting whiskers upon which a man
might hang his hat, and a pistol two feet long
clutched in his bony grasp. Rattigan, as he
adjusted my weapon, whispered "Frank,
jewel, remember the hip-bone; or, as the fel-
low's a of a length, you may level a trifle
higher;" and, stepping aside, his coadjutor
pronounced in an audible voice One! two!!

Off went the pistols. I felt Mr.. Clinch's
bullet whistle past my ear, and saw Captain
Rattigan next moment run up to my anta-
gonist, and inquire "if he was much hurt."
Heaven's! how delightful! I had brought
the engagement to a glorious issue by neatly
removing Mr. Clinch's trigger -finger, and
thereby spoiling his shooting for life.

With a few parting bows we retired from the
Priest's Meadow, leaving Christopher Clinch
a job for the vampire apothecary, and a fit
subject for the assiduities of Mrs. Cogan and
the gentle Jemima.

If Captain Rattigan had registered a rash
vow against port wine, it is to be lamented;
for never were three gentlemen of the sword
more completely done up at an early hour of
the evening than we.

Next day we were informed that Clinch was
tolerably well, and that their attorney had
been closeted with the ladies of Hawthorn
Cottage. We held a council of war, and while
debating on the expediency of my retiring on
leave to Connemara, where I might set Jemmy
and her lawyer at defiance, the post brought
us intelligence that "a turn-out for the line
was wanted;" and if I could muster the neces-
sary number, I should be exchanged into a
regular regiment. Off Rat and I started for
Naas, and with little difficulty succeeded in
making up the quota; and the first intimation
the prototype of Glorvina received of our move-
ments was being seduced to the window by the
drums, as I marched past Hawthorn Cottage,
with as choice a sample of "food for gun-
powder " as ever left Ballybunnion. I saluted
the once-intended Mrs. Kennedy with great
respect ; the fifers struck up " Fare you, well,
Killeavey ;" and Captain Rattigan, who ac-
companied me the first day's march, ejaculated,
as he looked askance at this second Ariadne,
" May the devil smother you, Jemima O'Brien!"

And now, my dear friends, having brought
my autobiography to that interesting period
when I left the militia for the line, I shall
pause in the narrative to direct your attention
to the moral of the tale. It ia quite evident



that a young attorney should never compare
deeds within duelling distance of an accom-
plished bonnet -maker, nor an elderly one
divorce a sickly gentleman's wife without
securing his costs before he announces his
instructions to proceed. No bilious bailiff
should cross the Shannon, for it is not every
stomach which will digest a stripe of parch-
ment ; and exercise, a good thing enough in its
own way, may, if taken on a tense blanket, be
very inconvenient to persons of sedentary habits.
I have a mighty affection for the army,
and, therefore, I supplicate young soldiers
never to propose for a lady in a public ball-
room the first night they arrive in country
quarters, and to shun, as they would the chorea
viti, that seductive tune, called " The wind
that shakes the barley!" and, finally, to give
no credence whatever to any apology offered
for a soiled silk unless they have perpetrated
the offence in person, or have seen it com-
mitted in their own actual presence.



O ! sweetest sweet, and fairest fair,
Of birth and worth beyond compare,
Thou art the causer of my care,
Since first I loved thee.

Yet God hath given to me a mind,
The which to thee shall prove as kind
As any one that thou shalt find,
Of high or low degree.

1 Lord Macitnlay regarded this as the finest piece of
ballad poetry extant. The legend upon which it is
founded is briefly this : Helen Irving, daughter of the
Laird of Kirconnell in Dumfriesshire, celebrated for her
beauty, was beloved by two gentlemen. The favoured
lover was Adam Fleming of Kirkpatrick ; the other is
supposed to have been a Bell of Blacket House. The
latter's suit was favoured by the friends of the Lady ;
consequently, the lovers were obliged to meet in secret,
and \>y night in the Kirconnell churchyard, a picturesque
pot almost surrounded by the river Kirtle. During
one of these meeting* the despised suitor suddenly
appeared on the opposite bank of the stream and fired
a carabine at his rival. But Helen, throwing herself
before her lover, received the bullet intended for him,
mid died in his arms. Fleming fought the murderer and
cut him to pieces. Other accounts state that Fleming
pursued his foe to Sp^in, and slew him in the streets of
Madrid. The first part of the ballad -susi>ected to be
modem consists of an address to the lady, either by
Fleming or his rival ; the second part-by far the more
beautiful forms the lament of Fleming over Helen's
grave. Several paraphrases of this ballad have been
published ; amng*t them one by John Mayue, author
Of The SiUer Gun, ic.

The shallowest water makes maist din,
The deadest pool, the deepest linn ;
The richest man least truth within,
Though he preferred be.

Yet, nevertheless, I am content,
And never a whit my love repent,
But think the time was a' weel spent,
Though I disdained be.

O ! Helen sweet, and maist complete,
My captive spirit's at thy feet !
Thinks thou still fit thus for to treat
Thy captive cruelly ?

O ! Helen brave ! but this I crave,
Of thy poor slave some pity have,
And do him save that's near his grave,
And dies for love of thee.


I wish I were where Helen lies,
Night and day on me she cries ;
O that I were where Helen lies,
On fair Kirconnell Lee ?

Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me !

think na ye my heart was sair,

"When my love dropt down and spak nae mair!
There did she swoon wi' meikle care,
On fair Kirconnell Lee.

As I went down the water side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell Lee;

1 lighted down my sword to draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',

I hacked him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me.

O Helen fair, beyond compare !
I'll make a garland of thy hair,
Shall bind my heart for evermair,
Until the day I die.

O that I were where Helen lies !
Night and day on me she cries ;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, " Haste and come to me !"

O Helen fair ! O Helen chaste !
If I were witli thee, I were blest,
Where thou lies low, and takes thy rest,
On fair Kii council Lee.



I wis'a my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lying,
On fair Kirconnell Lee.

I wish I were where Helen lies !
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
For her sak that died for me.

Old Ballad.


The comedy of The Merry Wives of Windsor,
although rarely now performed on the stage,
was regarded by "Warton as "the most complete
specimen of Shakspeare's comic powers;" and
Johnson said : " This comedy is remarkable for
the variety and number of the personages, who
exhibit more characters appropriated and dis-
criminated than perhaps can be found in any
other play." The ludicrous misfortunes of Fal-
stuff, into which he is betrayed by the "merry
wives," Mistress Page and Mistress Ford, form
the principal action of the comedy; of the under-
plot, " Sweet Anne Page," a bright, merry-eyed
lass, is the centre. Her mother has decided that
she shall marry the wealthy French Doctor
Gains, who is in favour at court; her father has
decided that she shall marry Slender, the cousin
of Justice Shallow ; whilst Anne herself has de-
cided that she shall marry Fenton, a gallant
cavalier, who finds favour with neither father
nor mother. Slender "hath but a little wee
face ; but he is as tall a man of his hands as any
is between this and his head." He is urged to
the match by pompous Justice Shallow, but he
is most awkward in his wooing. He means to
show his affection by his indifference to dinner,
and remains outside Page's house when all his
friends are seated at table. Anne is sent to de-
sire him to join the party:

Anne. Will't please your worship to come
in, sir?

Slen. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily;
I am very well.

Anne. The dinner attends you, sir.

Slen. I am not a-hungry, I thank you, for-
sooth. Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go wait
upon my cousin Shallow. [Exit Simple.] A
justice of peace sometimes may be beholding to
his friend for a man. I keep but three men and
a boy yet, till my mother be dead : but what
though? yet I live like a poor gentleman born.

Anne. I may not go in without your wor-
sh'p: they will not sit till you come.

Slen. I' faith. I'll eat nothing: I thank
you as much as though I did.

Anne. I pray you, sir, walk in.

Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you.
I bruised my shin th' other day with playing
at sword and dagger with a master of fence;
three veneys for a dish of stewed prunes; and,
by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot
meat since. Why do your dogs hark so ? be
there bears i' the town?

.Anne. I think there are, sir: I heard them
talked of.

Slen. I love the sport well; but I shall a
soon quarrel at it as any man in England. You
are afraid if you see the bear loose, arc you not?

Anne. Ay, indeed, sir.

Slen. That's meat and drink to me, now.
I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and
have taken him by the chain; but, I warrant
you, the women have so cried and shrieked at it,
that it passed : but women, indeed, cannot abide
'em; they are very ill-favoured rough things.
Re-enter PAGE.

Page. Come, gentle Master Slender, come;
we stay for you.

Slen. I'll eat nothing, I thank you, sir.

Page. By cock and pie, you shall not
choose, sir! come, come.

Slen. Nay, pray you, lead the way.

Page. Come on, sir.

Slen. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first.

Anne. Not I, sir; pray you, keep on.

Slen. Truly, I will not go first ; truly, la!
I will not do you that wrong.

Anne. I pray you, sir.

Slen. I'll rather be unmannerly than
troublesome. You do yourself wrong, indeed,

l a | [Extunt.

The contrast between Fenton's wooing and
Slender's floundering attempts is comically re-
vealed in the following scene. Fentou and Anne
are together :

Fent. I see I cannpt get thy father's love;
Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan.

Anne. Alas, how then?

Fent. Why, thou must be thyself.

He doth object I am too great of birth;
And that,my state being gall'd with my expense,
I seek to heal it only by his wealth:
Besides these, other bars he lays before me,
My riots past, my wild societies;
And tells me 'tis a thing impossible
I should love thee but as a property.

A nne. May be he tells you true.

Fent. No, Heaven so speed me in my time

to come!

Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth
Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne:
Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value
Thau stamps in gold or sums in scaled bags;



And 'tis the very riches of thyself
That now I aim at.

A nne. Gentle Master Fenton,

Yet seek my father's love; still seek it, sir:
If opportunity and humblest suit
Cannot attain it, why, then hark you hither!
[They converse apart.


S/tal. Break their talk, Mistress Quickly;
my kinsman shall speak for himself.

Slen. I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't: 'slid,
'tis but venturing.

Slutl. Be not dismayed.

Slen. No, she shall not dismay me: I care
not for that, but that I am afeard.

Quick. Hark ye; Master Slender would
speak a word with you.

Anne. I come to him. [Aside] This is my

father's choice.

0, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year.

Quick. And how does good Master Fenton?
Pray you, a word with you.

Shal. She's coming: to her, coz. boy,
thou hadst a father!

Slen. I had a father, Mistress Anne ; my
uncle can tell you good jests of him. Pray you,
uncle, tell Mistress Anne the jest, how my
father stole two geese out of a pen, good uncle.

Shal. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you.

Slen. Ay, that I do ; as well as I love any
woman in Gloucestershire.

Slial. He will maintain you like a gentle-

S/en. Ay, that I will, come cut and long-
tail, under the degree of a squire.

Shal. He will make you a hundred and
fifty pounds jointure.

Anne. Good Master Shallow, let him woo
for himself.

Shal. Marry, I thank you for it; I thank
you for that good comfort. She calls you, coz:
I'll leave you.

Anne. Now, Master Slender

Slen. Now, good Mistress Anne

A nne. What is your will?

Slen. My will! 'od's heartlings, that's a
pretty jest indeed! I ne'er made my will yet,
I thank Heaven; I am not such a sickly crea-
ture, I give Heaven praise.

Anne. I mean, Master Slender, what would
you with me?

Slen. Truly, for mine own part, I would
little or nothing with you. Your father and
my uncle hath made motions: if it be my luck,
so; if not, happy man be his dole! They can
tell you how things go better than I can : you
may ask your father; here he cornea.

Page. Now, Master Slender: love him,

daughter Anne.

Why, how now ! what does Master Fenton here ?
You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my


I told you, sir, my daughter is disposed of.
Pent. Nay, Master Page, be not impatient.
Mrs. Page. Good Master Fenton, come not

to my child.

Page. She is no match for you.
Fent. Sir, will you hear me?
Page. No, good Master Fenton.

Come, Master Shallow; come, son Slender, in.
Knowing my mind, you wrong me, Master


[Exeunt Page, Shal. rind Slen.

Fenton's appeal to the mother is equally un-
successful; but the lovers triumph at length.
To frighten and torment Falstuff for his atten-
tions to Mistress Ford aud Mistress Page, it is
arranged to beguile the knight to the oak of
Herne the Hunter in the forest, where all the
conspirators will appear in the disguise of fairies
and goblins, and play such pranks upon him as
will make him glad to escape alive. On the
occasion of this frolic Mistress Page has arranged
that Anne is to be dressed in green, and to elope
with Dr. Caius ; Page has arranged that Amie is
to be dressed in white, and is to escape with
Slender to Eton, where they are to be married.
Caius and Slender respectively carry out their
parts of the programme, but when in the chui-ch
each discovers that the companion of his flight
is a great lubberly boy. Slender cries:

I'll make the best in Gloucestershire know
on't; would I were hanged, la, else.

Page. Of what, son?

Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry
Mistress Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly
boy. If it had not been i' the church, I would
have swinged him, or he should have gwingcd
me. If I did not think it had been Anne
Page, would I might never stir, and 'tis a
postmaster's boy !

Page. Upon my life, then, you took the

Slen. What need you tell me that ! I
think so, when I took a boy for a girl.

Dr. Caius is quite as wrathful; and the truth is
soon revealed by the appearance of Fenton and
Anne as man aud wife. Whilst Slender and
Caius had been away on their fool's errand, the
lovers had been quietly married. Whereupon
mother and father philosophically submit to the
superior wit of the young folk, and are satisfied

" In love, the Heavens themselves do guide the state;
Money buys lauda, and wives arc sold by fate."


oc 1 ' N;;W YOKX c




'Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow." St.
Matthew vi. 28.

Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies,

Bath'd in soft airs, and fed with dew,
What more than magic in you lies,

To fill the heart's fond view ?
In childhood's sports, companions gay,
In sorrow, on life's downward way,
How soothing ! in our last decay
Memorials prompt and true.

Relics ye are of Eden's bowers,
As pure, as fragrant, and as fair,

As when ye crown'd the sunshine hours
Of happy wanderers there.

Fall'n all beside the world of life,

How is it stain'd with fear and strife !

In Reason's world what storms are rife,
What passions range and glare !

But cheerful and unchanged the while
Your first and perfect form ye show,

The same that won Eve's matron smile
In the world's) opening glow.

The stars of heaven a course are taught

Too high above our human thought;

Ye may be found if ye are sought,
And as we gaze, we know.

Ye dwell beside our paths and homes,

Our paths of sin, our homes of sorrow,
And guilty man, where'er he roams,
Your innocent mirth may borrow.
The birds of air before us fleet,
They cannot brook our shame to meet
But we may taste your solace sweet
And come again to-morrow.

Ye fearless in your nests abide

Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise,
Your silent lessons, undescried

By all but lowly eyes :
For ye could draw th' admiring gaze
Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys :
Your order wild, your fragrant maze,
He taught us how to prize.

Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour,

As when He paus'd and own'd you good;
His blessing on earth's primal bower,

Ye felt it all renew'd.

What care ye now, if winter's storm
Sweep ruthless o'er each silken form?
Christ's blessing at your heart is warm,
Ye fear no vexing mood.

Alas ! of thousand bosoms kind,

That daily court you and caress,
How few the happy secret find

Of your calm loveliness !
1 Live for to-day ! to-morow's light
To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight ;
Go sleep like closing flowers at night,
Aiid heaven thy morn will bless."

The Christian Tear.


O gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysell a drap of dew,

Down on that red rose I would fa'.
my love's bonny, bonny, bonny ;

my love's bonny, and fair to see ;

Whene'er [ look on her weel-far'd face,

She looks and smiles again to me.

gin my love were a pickle of wheat,

And growing upon yon lily lee,
And I mysell a bonny wee bird,

Awa' wi' that pickle o' wheat I wad flee.

gin my love were a coffer o' gowd,
And I the keeper of the key,

1 wad open the kist whene'er I list,
And in that coffer I wad be. 1

Old Sing

1 The following is another version of the burden :

O my love's bonny, bonny, bonny,
O my love's bonny and fair to see ;
Sweet is the bud and sweet the blossom,
Bonny's the blink o' my love's ee.

Burns, in Thomson's Collection, added two verses:

O were my love yon lilac flower,
Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing ;

How I would mourn gin it were torn
By Autumn wild or Winter rude;
But I would sing, on wanton wing,
When youthfu' May its bloom reiiew'd.




[Tom Hood, born at Lake House, Wanstead, Essex,
I'.'th January, 1835; died at Peckham Rye, 20th Nov-
ember, 1874 ; son of the humourist, Thomas Hood.
He was educated at University College School, and at
Pembroke College, Oxford. His first work, Pen and
Pencil Sketcket, was published in 1854, and was followed
by Quips and Crankt; The Daughter! of King Dahei; and
tlitr Poems; The Loves of Tnm Tucker and Little Bo- Pfe/t;
Vere Verecker"* Vengeance o Sensation; Jingles aiidjokts
tor Little Folks; Rules <j Rhyme, a Guide to Vertijtcatiim,
&c. His most popular novels are : A Disputed Inherit-
ance; Captain Mattel** Children; A Golden Heart; The
Lift Link; Love and Valour; and Money's Worth. In
1865 he became editor of Fun, and retained that post
until his death. He also for several years edited Hood's
Annual, one of the best of the Christmas publications.
Honoured by the inheritance of a name prominent in
literature. Hood earned reputation by his own merits
as a poet.i novelist, and humourist. A granite monu-
ment was erected over his grsve at Nunhead by his
frauds and admirers.]

Upon a gray peak, overlooking the town of
Verzenach, on the Rhine, stands a lonely
tower, known to the traveller as The Young
Tower. It owes its name to the luxuriant
growth of the ivy, which clothes it completely
from base to battlements with never-fading
verdure. Viewed from the river it appears
fully to merit its title, standing like a living
green monument among the barren gray
rocks, whose loftiest crags rise behind it
against the sky, cold, unpeopled, inaccessible.

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