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102

THE LEGEND OF LOUGH-MORN.

the eminence, they ventured to look sunk heavily in the stream. After the down on the houses beneath them: one lapse of a short time, O'Halloran and his by one the tapers had been extinguished, wife and mother again ventured to gaze and the cheerful song, and the wild and upon the scene! All-all was gone ! joyons carrol, were hushed. All lay in and where a town had reflected the one dark and heavy mass of obscurity, beams of the last evening sun, a dark, and the sleep of the grave seemed to deep lake was now stretching its sullen rest on the inhabitants. O'Halloran waters! Long silvery streaks of light cast his eye round, and beheld the fatal in the horizon betokened the dawning of guest whom he had harboured, standing morning; and as the thick clouds of ou the very summit of the mountain: night rapidly rolled into the west, the his cap had falleu off, and his cloak and distant hills were illumined by the first loose hair streamed wildly on the breeze; early rays of the day. O'Halloran looked his hands were stretched forth, and his round for the stranger whose fearful eyes, beaming with more than mortal vengeance had called down the ruin; brilliancy, were fixed on the planets but he was gone, and the breeze only which were silently rolling in the canopy waved the tall weeds where he had above. Again O'Halloran bent his stood. A pious ejaculation broke from glances upon the town, and far and wide the lips of O'Halloran, and he prayed as he could see, water was welling and with a deep and ardent and burning welling as though the springs of the intensity for the souls of the deceased. earth had broke loose. Suddenly the When he had concluded, he rose from stillness was dissolved; the bands of his knees, and taking the hands of his sleep burst asunder; the bells rung vio- companions, turned his steps far from lently, and lights were seen flashing to that scene of destruction which, to this and fro, from house to house, and from day, is knowu by the name of LOUGHroom to room. Dreadful was the scene MORN. that now presented itself to the senses

Sept. 1824.

E. S. C***y. of the appalled family on the hill : the houses were sinking rapidly, and the water was level with the windows on the

SAILOR'S SONGS.-By Dick Wills. second stories : the shouts and screams

The rose had sipp'd the early dew, were terrific, and they sounded as the And balmy sweets perfumed the air, loud cry of wretches whose hearts rung

When WILLIAM wept a last adieu with the last knell of bope. The upper

Upon the bosom of bis fair :

“ Farewell! (he cried,) my lovely JANE, windows were dashed open, and bands Though distant far across the main, of the inhabitants issued forth on the This heart to thee shall true cemain, tops of the houses, and tossed their arms

Till death its cords shall sever." in harrowing despair, as they beheld

The morning breezes swellid the sail, retreat cut off on every side. Lower His vessel soon was lost to view; and still lower sunk the buildings, till

But evening brought the angry gale, the waters were even high as the very

And vivid lightnings round them flew :

In vain the billow's force they brave, roofs. At that juncture, hundreds flang Sinking beneath th' oppressive wavethemselves into the stream, and, strugo

Poor WILLIAM found a watery grave, gling witb their fate, vainly endeavoured

Apd bade “Adieu !" for ever. to make towards the land. In one place a father, encircled by his children, was

NED SPLICE was a tar as devoid of all fear, buffetting the tide, and in another a As e'er swabb'da deck from the spray of a sea ; husband clasping his wife, tried to save He knew ev'ry rope, and could hand, reef, and

steer

[he. her from the danger that surrounded them. But it was indeed vain! The Our Chaplain

could spin out a very fine yara,

Book-larning, why, lord, 'twas all dickey to power that invoked their destruction, And bother each man in his mess; (larn, defeated their exertions; and every soft, says NED, “My brave boys if your duts you'd sweet tie of kindred was swept into an inevitable : ruin. One fearful gurgling Ne'er get drunk! (says the Priest, with a wave shriek arose from the town; O'Hallo

of his fist ;) ran's brain felt as if spinning roand; he But see him next day, when he's cheating at

Never swear, never covet another man's prog; shut his eyes, and pressed his hands

whisttightly on his ears, to close out that My eyes, 'tis a storm in an ocean of groß. sight of woe—that shriek of wildering Says NÉD Them 'ere mexims I dou't under. despair: it sounded again on the breezes We should practise the thing we profess; ". of night, and then all sunk into stilluess, While the pray'r

from his heart and the gold broken only at intervals by a faint plash

from his hand in the water, as a hand or arm rose to

He gives to a friend in distress. the surface, and waving for a moment The poet of Greenwich Hospital.

A LOVER'S DAY, OR VICIS. observed to bite his lips, and to coloat SITUDES OF TWELVE and turn pale alternately with anger, HOURS!

when he saw her smile upon the adorers

wlio daily hovered round her. Amelia , (From Ackermann's Repository.)

however, shut her eyes upon these little

infractions of their treaty, and all went The clock had just struck twelve as well; but a circumstance occurred the young Ernest de Cronstadt turned into night before, wbich bad blown the spark the public walk, where, when the weather of jealousy to a flame in the heart of was fine, the beautiful Madame de Ernest. Waldemar was accustomed to take lier This was the sight of a stranger in morning walk. He took a few turns, close and earnest conversation with looked round anxiously, then threw Madame de Waldemar, when he entered himself into a seat, with his eyes fixed her drawing-room' the evening before ; in the direction that he knew she must they were standing at a window apart take ; but yet she came not. At any from the company, and it was evident other time he would have supposed that from the looks of Amelia that the subject her absence was accidental, but he was interested her exceedingly. He thought then too unhappy tu be reasonable; and she started at his appearance, and that well skilled in the art of self-tormenting, there was something of confusion in the he contrived in a few moments to con- air with which she came forward and vince himself, that his Amelia was the introduced the young stranger to him as most perfidious of women, and himself ' her particular friend, Captain Sternheim. the most abused of men.

It was evident to the jealous eye of That our readers may be acquainted Ernest, that during the rest of the evening with the premises from which he drew the young officer had more than his sbare this comfortable conclusion, we must of her attention; he even fancied that go back a little in our tale. It was now he saw some very significant smiles six months since Ernest had offered his exchanged between them ; in fine he vows at the shrine of the young and returned home very much disposed to beautiful widow of the old Baron de break his promise. Waldemar. Young, handsome, and A sleepless night sent him at an amiable, Ernest would have found little earlier hour than usual to Madame de difficulty in recommending himself to Waldemar, with an intention of coming Amelia, had she not thought that she to an immediate explanation. She was saw in his temper a strong tendency to not up; he called again in an hour, and jealousy; and as the happiness of her received the same auswer. He knew, life during her former marriage had however, that when the weather was fine been sacrificed to this direful passion, she rarely missed her walk; and as he she dreaded placing herself once more was sure that she must have heard of his under its domination. Ernest owned calling twice, be felt almost certain that his fault, but he promised, nay swore, she would meet him that morning. Howto banish it for ever. “But have you ever, she came not; and after waiting the power?" said Madame de Waldemar till one o'clock, he was hastening to ber doubtingly..."

----“ No, dearest Amelia,” re- house, when he was joined by an ac lied he;"but you have.”-“I! how so?" quaintance, who had been of the party –“ Promise but to be mine, and secure the night before. “ Did you observe," in your faith, jealousy will be banished said this gentleman, “how delighted for ever." Amella hesitated. Ernest Madame de Waldemar was to see again redoubled his vows, and at length she her old friend Sternbeim!”—“ Have they agreed to put him upon his probation, then known each other a long time?" but still without fixing a time for their “From their infancy, and have always union.

loved each other like brother and sister.” For three months all went very well : What a revolution did these words it is true, that Amelia, strictly speaking, make in the feelings of Esnest : he seized gave her lover no cause to be jealous; the land of his friend, aud pressed it but she was naturally lively, mixed much involuntarily; then recollecting himself, in the world, and was accustomed to and covered with confusion, he hurried receive the homage of the other sex with away, saying to himself, “What a fool I the good-humoured ease of a woman am! I should have utterly ruined myself conscious, without being vain, of her by exposing my jealousy to her. How beauty. Ernest would rather she had could I be such a blockhead? But it shunned all homage but his own, and shall be the last time.” though he never presumed to remonstrate He hastened home, and throwing

ith her on the subject, he was often himself upon a couch, was lost in a

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to

delightful reverie, when one of those the captain, who at that moment was public-spirited people, who attend to most fondly kissing a picture that was every body's business but their owu, suspended by a black ribbon round his entered. “So," cried he, “we shall neck. De Cronstadt had just reason have the long-deferred wedding at last.” enough remaining to prevent him from “What wedding ?".

...“ Madame de rushing into the house, and taking vènWaldemar's.” ..“ Madame de Walde- geance on the destroyer of his happiness. mar's! Heavens! is it possible ?!... He bastened home, wrote a bitter and « Very possible for a blooming young eternal farewell to Amelia, and was upon widow to marry again, especially to her the poiut of sending it, when he chaoged first love. There is no doubt that his mind, determined to go and upbraid' Madame de Waldemar was secretly her in person; tore his letter, and attached to Sternheim when her father repenting as soon as he had done so, forced her to marry the old baron, and wrote another, which, after some delibeevery body wondered that he had not ration with himself, he burned, and set renewed his devoirs since the death of out for her house. her husband : but no doubt he is come It was then six o'clock of a clear cold for that purpose now." Ernest clapped December evening. Without exactly his band to his forehead to hide his agita- knowing why, De Cronstadt took the back tion, and the babbler hurried away, way to the house of Amelia, and just as repeat his tale elsewhere.

he had reached it, he saw the young “ The perfidious woman!" exclaimed officer come out, shutting the door Ernest : «this then was the reason she cautiously after him, and supporting uever would hearken to my solicitations Amelia, muffled in a mantle that be had for an immediate marriage. I will fly to seen her wear a thousand times, and her instantly, upbraid her with her false- covered with a long veil. At the mohood, and bid her adieu for ever.” He ment that he was putting her into a hastened to her house, and found General post-chaise, which was in waiting, her Sprotzler and his pretty daughter with arm was seized by Ernest, who exclaimed her. The young lady had always in a frenzied tone, “By beavcus, you appeared disposed to cast a favourable shall not escape me!" Sternheim grasped eye upon Ernest, but never before were bim by the collar. “ Hold! for the sake her attentions returned : now intent only of heaven hold!" exclaimed the lady, on piquing Amelia, he behaved with but in a voice so different from Amelia's, marked gallantry to Miss Sprotzler ; that the astonished Ernest loosed his and she returned his compliments with girasp; they darted into the carriage, and such interest, that the baroness, who had it was out of sight before he could take at first only smiled at the scene, became any means to satisfy his doubts. disconcerted. She grew pale, and looked "It was not Amelia,” said he, as soon so evidently unhappy, that De Cronstadt as he could breathe ; “ and yet, cannot was touched in spite of himself. He she have disguised her voice?" This reflected on the characterof his informer; thought sent him round to the front gate fancied that the news might not be true, with the rapidity of lightning. “I must and finally determined to tell Amelia see Madame de Waldemar.” what had passed, and learn his fate from Jady is in the country.” " When did her own lips. These thoughts made him she go?"..." She is but just gone." fall into a fit of abstraction; and Miss Ernest groaned, and muttering execraSprotzler, finding that she could not tions upon his own folly, and her recall his attention, took her leave, perfidy, he hurried towards his home. accompanied by her father.

As he crossed the bottom of the street, Before Ernest could commence his a carriage was driving furiously towards explanation, the most censorious old him: the coachman called to him to take maid in Berlin entered, and he was care, but he paid no attention. A blow obliged to hurry away to conceal his from the pole of the carriage laid him agitation. He determined, however, to senseless on the ground, and when he return as 5000 as he had recovered opened his eyes he found himself upon a hinsself a little ; and he walked down a sofa, and supported by Amelia. Yes, it retired street at the back of the baron was she herself hanging over him with ess's house, that he might take a few looks so full of grief and tenderness, turns unobserved. As he passed the that to doubt her truth was impossible. back of the house he thought that he « Ah, Amelia !” said be in a faint voice, caught a glimpse of Sternheim ; but 6 what have I not suffered in seeing you, scarcely daring to credit his senses, he as I thought, fly from me with another !" drew near, and, to his utter astonishment.--" And what have you not deserved to and dismay, he saw that it was indeed suffer, rash and suspicious man,” replied

-“Sir, my

she in a tone of gentle reproach, “ for promises, lest I remind you of your broken breaking your promise so solemnly given one." to me? Ah! if it was not for the danger At that instant the clock of the neighyou have just encountered, do you think bouring church chimed twelve, and that I could ever forgive you? And even Ernest bidding adieu to his beautiful now I know not whether 1 ought not to mistress, hastened home, to retrace in banish you from my sight for ever." the fond security of present happiness

Our fair readers will have no difficulty all the vicissitudes of delight and despair in believing that De Cronstadt soon which he had experienced in twelve hours, made his peace, and an explanation ensued that made him ashamed of his doubts.

RECOLLECTIONS OF A PICTURE. Sternheim had just eloped with, and privately married, a young lady, the

Original. Losom friend and first cousin of Amelia : the young couple sought a temporary refuge with her, but the bride did not

The bandit sleeps; but see how tenderly appear to visitors. Circumstances arose His Anna watches o'er his hasty rest; which rendered them fearful of pursuit, See that ardent gaze she bends upon him: and they went to seek an asylum with Oh!

many thoughts are mingling with that look, another friend; at the same time Amelia, Her lovely bome was 'neath Italia's sky, who was a great favourite with her uncle, Where the sweet jessamise sheds its fragrance resolved to hasten to his house, in the Gemming the lowly thatch with silvery stars. hope of procuring their pardun... A Her life has been a promise fair but false, person more prudent or less ardent than Like some fair summer morn, when rosy cloud, our fair widow would have waited for And brilliant colours deck th' etherial arch, daylight to commence her journey; but But, ab! too quickly, vanish, cloud ou cloud

Rolls by, and shrouds the bright expanse in she said, and doubtless she believed,

gloom : that she was impatient to exert her good So o'er her childhood, Happiness bestowed offices for the new-iparried pair, Whether

Her fairy tints; but Misery quickly came, or not her benevolence was stimulated by She was a beauteous girt, in whose bright eyes,

And veiled each trace of joy in Sorrow's shade. the idea, that her abrupt departure would Truth, Love, and Invocence united shone. punish Ernest for his firtation with Her parents doted on their lovely child, Miss Sprotzler, we will not stop to eu

And ripening years but added to ber charms;

When Albert came and taught her heart to love. quire ; suffice it to say, that her travel She deemed him true, and listened to his tale. ling-carriage quitted her house by the His brow was open, and his dark eye flashed front gate almost at the same moment

With deep-felt lenderness; but yet at times that Sternheim and his wife stole from

There was a glance she shrunk beneath, and

feared the back door to the post-chaise which she knew not what; but Love o'ercame lier waited for them. Io the hurry of depar

fears. ture Amelia bad forgotten something, Although a secret fear stole o'er his leari,

Her father gave his long delayed consent, and was returning for it, when Ernest And bis voice taltered as he gave his blessing. received the blow from the pole of her They wedded, and she knew not that she was carriage, which might have been fatal A bandit's bride. but for the skill of the coachman, who Some months rolled happily away, at last pulled up in time to prevent the wheels The truth burst on them ;-ah? how sad the from going over him. One may well Her mother's broken heart; a fatber's cuirse believe that the sight of De Cronstadt, Upon her husbaud, and bis firm resolve insensible, perhaps dying, drove all

To see that husband of her love no more.

She would not quit hiin, and she left her home: thoughts of ihe intended journey out of She fled her native land, and followed him. Amelia's head. She had him carried to Their home is on the Alps--but Love can dwell her house, and sent immediately for In lonely wilds, and he illumes their cot. medical assistance; but as he was only And does she now repent it!--no, tho' woe,

She shares his toils, and suffers all his cares, stunned by the blow, he recovered before And busy recollection, will intrude the arrival of the surgeon to life and At times upon her thoughts,—yet love reigos happiness. Time flew unheeded by the

there,

She has a woman's heart and woman's tender. lovers, till Amelia casting her eyes upon

M. the chimney-clock, exclaimed with great naïveté, “Good heaven! I had no idea it was so late. You must go now, dear A merchant of Gottenburg has inErnest, you must indeed.""Not tillsyou vented a machine which can manufac, have once more repeated the sweet assu lure 10,000 nails in a minute. A patent rance, that on your return-"-"Ah! has been granted to this mechanic, whose hush !" criell she archly ; no more name is Umgewilz.

scene,

ness.

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THE "Great Gate" is enumerated prodigious. Richard de Berry, Bishop among the buildings of the palace in the of Durbam, in the reign of Edward jij. steward's accounts, 15 Edward II. Car. had every week eight quarters of wheat dinal Morton rebuilt it about the year made into bread for the poor, besides his 1490 in the manner we at present see it. alms-dishes, fragments of bis house, and This is perhaps the most magnificent great sums of money bestowed by him in building of the kind now remaining, not his journeys. West, Bishop of Ely, in for the elegance of its workmanship, but 1532, daily fed two hundred poor people for its vast size and height. It consists at his gates; and the Lord Cromwell of two immense square towers, with a usually the same number. Edward, spacious gateway and postern in the Earl of Derby, fed upwards of sixty aged centre ; the whole embattled and built poor, besides all comers, thrice a week, of a fine red brick, with stone dressings. and furnished on Good Friday two thouThe arch of the gateway is pointed, and sand seven hundred people with meat, the roof beautifully groined. Above is drink and money. Others were equally a noble room, called the “ Record Room,” liberal. wherein the archives of the see. of Can The archbishops of Canterbury, as terbury are deposited. The towers are first in place and dignity, appear to have ascended by spiral stone staircases, which exercised this antient virtue of hospitality lead to the apartments on the different in a supereminent degree. In Archbi. stories, now principally occupied as shop Parker's regulations for the officers store or Jumber rooms. The exterior of his household, it was ordered that roof of this large building is quite fat, there should be no purloining of meat and, being leaded, serves for viewing the left upon the tables ; but that it be putt very extensive prospect beneath, which, into the almes tubb, and the tubb to be on a fine day, is scarcely to be equalled: kepte sweete and cleane before it be used the whole of the palace and grounds in from time to time.” But the charity of particular are seen from thence to the the prelates before that time was truly greatest advantage.

astonishing. Robert Winchelsey before At this gate the dole, immemorially named, during his primacy, we given to the poor by the archbishops of informed by Godwin, not only maintained Canterbury, is constantly distributed. many poor scholars at the universities, The word dole signifies a share, and is but was exceeding bountiful to other still occasionally rised in modern lan- persons in distress, “ insomuch," says he, guage. Jo former times it was under 6 as therein I think he excelled all the stood of the relief given to the indigent archbishops that either were before or at the gates of great men. Stowe, in his after him. Beside the daily fragments examples of housekeeping, laments the of his house, he gave every Friday and decline of this laudable custom in his Sunday unto every beggar that came to day, which before had been so general, his doore, a loafe of breade of a farthing that almes-dishos (into which certain price (which no doubt was bigger than portions of meat for the needy were our penny loafe now, Stowe says it was a carved) were to be seen at every noble- loaf of bread sufficient for that day); man and prelate's table; and the quan- and there were usually such alms-day in tities of provision thus given away were time of dearth, to the nuinber of five

are

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