MR. SMITH'S IRISH LOVE. HE must be a sulky fellow who cannot speedily make himself at home in Dublin. They have an off-hand way with them. I hardly know what it is; but it saves a deal of trouble. "Allow me to present you to mamma. This is my aunt. Would you like to go to Mrs. Burkes'? or Mrs. French's? or Mrs. Bodkin's? or Mrs. O'Connor's? or Mrs. O'Rafferty's ? May I send you a card ? Ask for me: I shall introduce you-I shall be delighted!" In fact, there was a something so enticing about them, that even John Smith - plain, plodding, prosy Smith-cold, calculating, unimaginative Smith, could do no less than fall in love. Louisa Donovan was an Irish beauty of the : first class it is therefore unnecessary to say that she came very near perfection-nay, I suspect that, physically, she attained it. The hypercritic might perhaps have taken exception to the size of her foot and ancle, but I think, upon reference to the best models, your ancient Venuses will be found of substantial under-standings, and rather leaning to the Irish development than the beau idéal of a French ladies' shoemaker. Her hair, eyes, and eyelashes were nearly black, but her skin was of a dazzling fairness. She was a fleshy beauty-a lolloping, lazy, languishing love. She took no trouble about any thing: laisser aller was her motto. When she crossed the room, she dragged her slow length along as if the effort was really too overcoming; and she flopped into an easy chair with such an air of indolent happiness, that it positively made you yawn to see it. How she mustered up energy enough to dress herself was a mystery; certain it is, that whether the operation were performed by self or deputy, it was but indifferently done. Her clothes looked as if thrown on by chance; and although the dress had contrived somehow to get fastened, it seemed to have been done in the dark. Hook No. 1 was generally in conjunction with eye No. 2. Sometimes she wore an ear-ring, sometimes two, oftener none; and when she did display those ornaments, they were generally foul with the tangles, of her dark, dark hair. Such hair I never beheld! I doubt the fact of its ever being brushed; but for length, fineness, and excessive luxuriance, it had no equal, out of Macassar. Then her collar was always wrong: tucked in on one side, perhaps, and on the other, wandering away over the shoulder. One was sometimes tempted to think there was a spice of coquetry in this to draw attention to the fair skin and rounded contour; but, on second thoughts, you acquitted her of taking any trouble at all about the matter. What a fat, soft hand she had! and what long, slender fingers! tipped, not with oriental henna, but -I grieve to say it--more frequently with Irish ebony. Poor dear! she was suspected of having very vague and unsettled notions about soap and water, and to be rather averse than otherwise to their application. Even Smith, enamoured as he was, rather dreaded to see her in short sleeves, lest high-water-mark should be too apparent about the wrists; and no one could look at the back of her neck without thinking of the invaluable services of Tom Pipes. It must be conceded to Miss Donovan, that she had none of the "adulteries of art" in the scheme of her toilet. Hers was the "hair loosely flowing, robes as free," and there was about her altogether a "sweet neglect," enough to have taken the fancy of Rare Ben himself. Though rather disposed to fastidious nicety in personal matters, Mr. Smith somehow became enamoured of this piece of angelic nastiness-" so full of shapes is fancy;" and yet he was more than half angry at it. But what can you expect from a raw fellow but little over twenty? Why, there was an archness in her dear, dirty face, that might have bothered a sexagenarian. She had a brogue, too-the richest and most teeming brogue that ever came from an Irish mouth. How the straight and narrow passage of her lips could give vent to anything so broad was a puzzle, but it came rolling out, like every thing she did, without an effort. But Smith had it not all his own way that would have been too much to expect. There was a snag -a sawyer, that ruffled the dimpling course of his true love. There was a FIRST COUSIN ! Now it does appear to be a sad mistake, that this particular relationship should have been left out of that Table of Kindred and Affinity, wherein whosoever are related are forbidden, in Scripture and our Laws, to marry together.” Considering the excessive caution with which we are guarded against our grandmothers, this omission is really an unaccountable laxity. But there was a FIRST COUSIN-Alexander Casey, of the county of Roscommon, EsquireSandy Casey with his intimates, Sandy alone at his aunt's. This fellow was the bane of Smith; whether he turned out, eventually, his antidote, I will not anticipate by informing the reader. He was always in the way-there was no getting rid of him: his time was his own, and he imparted it to his friends with ruinous liberality. The sacrifice which he made at his aunt's of this valuable commodity was awful. If it had been really money, as some pretend, he was clearly in the high road to bankruptcy. Wherever the fair Louisa might be lounging, wherever driving, wherever |