it a thing of no unusual occurrence, namely, a night-visit from royalist dragoons in search of some of the proscribed. At the first knock the family were instantly in motion, the door was opened, the embers, smouldering on the hearth, were heaped with fresh fuel, numerous rushes were lighted, and preparations promptly made to offer to the wayfarers any refreshment that the house contained. The latter, indeed, was considered a matter-of-course affair; for, Tyrian or Trojan who sought the glen, claimed hospitality alike, and the trooper's scarlet and outlaw's necessity rendered the demand equally imperious. Of the twain, the trooper was the more unprofitable customer. Were the horseman in good temper, and the peasantgirl pretty, a kiss might be given in full acquittance of all demands in law or equity, and "he laughed, and he rode away;" while the outlaw, if he did not pay in meal would pay in malt, as the old saw goes. If this night a desperate onslaught was made upon the herdsman's flitch by half-a-dozen half-starved freebooters, on the next, a fat wedder was left in the barn, with directions to whip the skin off with the least possible delay; and many a tenant, when driven for rent, obtained the money which released his impounded cattle from the pocket of some generous outlaw. No wonder, then, that the wild peasantry of the hills, to the desperate men who sought shelter there, bore true allegiance; and, though every robber-haunt was known to hundreds, to personal punishment or rich reward the mountaineers proved equally impassive.

Had the belated visitors proved royalists, the same alacrity to meet their wants would have been exhibited. The broadsword, the shoulder-belt, and the rope,-and in those days all were freely used in cases of contumacy,-stimulate men's exertions marvellously; but when, in half the party, old acquaintances were recognised, right cheerfully the whole family applied themselves to prepare a substantial supper. Emmett, Aylmer, and a few others were conducted to an inner room, the others remaining in the kitchen; and while the good-wife and her daughters took post beside the frying-pan, on which many an egg and rasher hissed, the fugitives detailed, in under tones, the strange and tragic events of that disastrous evening. Presently, supper was served in the inner apartment, plainly, but comfortably. Nothing sharpens the appetite more keenly than a night-ride in the mountains; and, indeed, it would be hard to say whether the rebel chief or the deserted lover did ampler justice to the refreshments placed in rude abundance before them. Emmett, fevered throughout the day, as hope and apprehension obtained the mastery by turns, had felt ill-inclined to eat; and, when the coarse table in the rebel arsenal was roughly spread, would the recollection that, at that moment, the bridal déjeûner of the false fair one was crowded by the élite of fashion, and she, "the cynosure of wondering eyes," in all the brilliancy of beauty, enhanced the banquet's revelry with wreathed smiles; would these, recalled to memory, provoke poor Aylmer's appetite? Both freely drank their wine; but desperate excitement and blighted love alike set the grape's boasted influence at defiance.

When the meal ended, an earthen grey-beard, filled with illicit whiskey, was placed upon the table; and, after a portion of its contents had been poured into a smaller vessel, it was removed to the kitchen to refresh the subordinate insurgents. In a few minutes

afterwards, those who had supped with their leader and his friend rose, quitted the apartment, and left them tête-à-tête.

"How goes the night?" said Aylmer; "it is now two months or so since I have been delivered from the encumbrance of a watch. I wonder who the devil calls himself at present master of mine? Mine?-no, 'twas fairly purchased; and, faith, it cost me a pang or two to part with it: for when my poor mother's initials on the case met my eye, I was half-prompted to snatch it from the counter. But -I had not dined for a couple of days;-damnation !"

He sprang from the beechen chair, and made a stride or two across the chamber; then, as if a moment were sufficient to restore that awful composure which despair so frequently possesses, he resumed his seat, and, in a low calm voice, continued.

"Two o'clock-ha! morning is well advanced, and I have some fifteen miles to travel. Fare thee well, my dear Emmett-better fortune attend thee! Should a chance present itself, hasten from the hands of the Philistines, and rest assured that none will more gladly receive the tidings of your escape than I."

"Of that no hope remains," returned the poor enthusiast with a sigh; "my history will soon be closed. Well-death is a penalty entailed upon existence; and, in the poet's words,

I set my life upon a cast,

And I will stand the hazard of the die.'

But you, Aylmer, all favours your escape; your knowledge of the mountains, your family influence, your-"

"Stop!-I will anticipate the rest; the uncle's loyalty would be, forsooth, a set-off against the nephew's treason!" exclaimed the young man, passionately. "You misunderstand me altogether, Emmett; think not that, for a moment, I fancied your hair-brained project could succeed. Bah! the thought would have been close akin to madness. Why, compared with yours, Jack Cade's was a promising attempt. No!-even my private feelings politically tended in an opposite direction. I am a rebel-a rebel from revenge; and yet the blood that courses through my veins is orange to the drop."

"Then, under what strange and conflicting impulse did you act?” inquired the enthusiastic leader of the wild émeute; "why join a cause alien to your own principles ?"

"I'll answer you, in our national mode, by interrogatories," said Aylmer, coolly. "By what right did that capricious old man invest me with imaginary wealth, and place me in high position, and then, when fancy changed, shatter the clay-constructed puppet into potsherds? What was the head and front of my offending?—I received an indignity, and resented it. Could I have brooked offence, and mingled in society with gentlemen-Irish gentlemen? 'Twas but a flimsy pretext-a mere apology to cast me off. Before my uncle had reached my years, he had been twice upon the ground himself; ay, and in both cases he was the challenger. "Twas dotard love that wrought my ruin; an artful girl played her game too well, and the old man fancied that sixteen could love sixty. I was in the way; a scapegoat was wanting for a hymeneal sacrifice-I was rendered at the altar, and youthful beauty swore fealty to old age. Heavens! could the driveller but know that she, the idol of his love, six months

before she placed her hand in his, had hung upon the bosom of the discarded nephew, confessed the secret of her heart, and But, hold! what followed must never pass these lips. Enough-vengeance before now has been exacted before the injury was inflicted." Again he leaped from the chair, and strode through the apartment. Emmett for a minute remained still; but Aylmer, by a sudden mastery of himself, controlled his feelings, replenished a full tumbler, drank the diluted alcohol, and then calmly continued,"Emmett, the parting hour is come."

"But what is your purpose? What will you do?" inquired the rebel chief.

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'Change the house of feasting into one of sorrow. This evening the heir of Castle Aylmer receives the rite of baptism. Half-a-dozen of the peerage will grace the ceremony; and could I, a loving cousin, at this high festival absent myself?"

"And do you thus coolly rush, into danger, and seek a halter?" asked his wondering companion.

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No-no," was the calm reply, "Jack Hangman will never assist at my toilet, nor hemp enclose this throat."

"Then you will ape the Roman,-and suicide-" Emmett paused.

"Pish! I scorn the thought. Oh, no; I am a fatalist; and at three periods of life. at seven, fourteen, and twenty-one- my destiny was foretold. Lead-lead-lead! I hoped the bullet would have reached its mark last evening; but we must wait the fatal time. What ho! without there! Come, honest host, my horse."

"So late, sir? Nay, rest a bit. After this uproar in the citywhich I have heard of but now-idle people will be a-foot," said the landlord, with kindly courtesy.

"No fear for me," said Aylmer, with a bitter smile; "a line of honest Juvenal ensures my safety,

'Contabit vacuus coram latrone viator.'

There is sound Latin for you,-ay, and sound sense."

The host departed.

"Aylmer, are you acting wisely ?”

"Did you ever hear of anybody since the days of Solomon who did so?" and he laughed; but that laugh was one of bitter import. "Farewell!"

The word struck ominously on the ear to which it was addressed. "Farewell!" returned the young enthusiast. "Shall we not meet again ?"

"Never-in this world!" and each word was deliberately pronounced.

"Your horse is ready," said the landlord.

Both hands were again interchanged by the fugitives, and in another minute hoof-tramps were heard without, until a bending in the road shut out the sounds of the receding traveller.

With Aylmer, and not with Emmett, our story lies; and a brief paragraph will tell the latter's history.

For a few days he remained under safe keeping in the Wicklow hills; but, wearied of restraint, he returned to the outskirts of the metropolis. Sirr, a man of infamous celebrity-the Vidocq of the Irish executive, discovered his retreat, and found it fit time to take

him. Unlike the lion-like spirit of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, Emmett's was a dreamy and romantic courage, which unfitted him for fierce aggression. He made a bootless effort at escape; was easily captured; and led, in quick succession, to Newgate, the court of justice, and the scaffold.

If ever man was monomaniac, that man was Robert Emmett.

Before Aylmer had ridden half-a-dozen miles morning began to break, and hills and valleys, with which from boyhood he had been familiar, in the grey haze of dawning day gradually became visible. Every feature in the opening landscape brought with it a painful recollection. On that moor he had shot grouse, and in yon lough had often filled his fishing-basket. Then manhood's cares had not assailed him. He was springing into life, with all the personal and accidental advantages which are supposed the stepping-stones to human happiness. He topped a rising ground, and an expansive surface of champaign country lay beneath. He started at the view. The wide domain, the towering chimneys of a mansion, peeping over woods the growth of centuries,-younger plantations extending far as the eye could range,-rich meadows interspersing corn-lands; all these, but one year since, he believed to be his own inheritance. What was he now? Ruined, in the very opening of manhood,—a skulking fugitive at this moment,-and, by noon, a proclaimed traitor; not one solitary shilling in his purse, and the ownership of the horse he rode unknown!

"Is this a dream, or is it sad reality?" he muttered as he sprang from the saddle, and threw himself upon a rustic bench; hours passed in reckless dreaminess. Gradually the household bustle increased; window-blinds were withdrawn; and servants passed and repassed the casements of the castle. With every apartment he was familiar; that, had been his play-room when a boy,-this, his chamber when a man. The breakfast-bell sounded. How often had he

answered to that well-remembered summons. Another hour wore on. The hall-door opened; a nurse-maid and an infant came out from beneath the vestibule; a lady followed, and, next moment, the tall, spare figure of his uncle caught his view. He saw the old man fondle the baby-heir, and tap his young wife's cheek most playfully. Ayl mer's brow darkened; his lips were colourless, but his eyes flashed fire. He turned from a sight that was blasting. Again he involuntarily looked. The nurse and child were pacing the sweep before the house, while the proud father was toying with his lady's hazel locks, and evincing all that ardour of affection, which, scarce excusable in youthful love, in chilly age becomes disgusting.

"By heaven! I shall go mad," exclaimed the disinherited one. "Oh! could I not dash thy raptures, old drivelling dotard!-But, hold! who comes spurring at fiery speed? A dragoon. He presents a letter. The old man starts back a pace, and my gentle aunt assumes the attitude of astonishment. "Tis intelligence of last night's émeute, and probably announces, head of the Aylmers! that he whom you once regarded with so much pride is now a fugitive, an outcast, and a traitor!"

As Aylmer spoke, his uncle signed to the horseman to repair to the stables, and, in evident confusion, hurried into the house, followed by his youthful dame.

MEMOIRS AND ANECDOTES OF THE EIGHTEENTH

CENTURY.

To those who rule themselves on the Epicurean principle of ". "After us, the Deluge!" it is of small consequence whether or not some Gold Key or Gold Stick, some Lord President, or honourable Clerk of the Privy Council be taking notes of our own time for the edification of Gowers, and Percys, and Howards still unborn. It may possibly be merely a touch of the bilious humour of the quadruped who declared that the " grapes were sour," which induces our fancy that the present days are less favourable to this species of composition than those when a Suffolk was succeeded by a Walmoden, or when a Walpole had an Ossory to write to. Such, however, is in some measure our creed. Public affairs, we firmly believe, are managed with more integrity and openness than formerly: private scandal has grown a vulgar thing, been brought into discredit by the, and the, and the, also by the floggings and the legal proceedings which have wasted to nought the sarcasm of their editors. Mr. Rowland Hill has bidden the letter shrink into the note. The Railway King and "his faction" have destroyed the remoteness and provincial air of the country-house. The electrical telegraph shoots news as rapid as an echo," from court to court, till political intelligence is diffused throughout Europe sympathetically, as if a Michael Scott ordained it.

At

All these characteristics and inventions are so many possible dissuasions to the writer of memoirs. Matter can never be wanting, but it may be otherwise discussed and disposed of than in "sealed boxes which are not to be opened for a century. least such flattering unction "that their children will fare worse than themselves" may be laid to their souls, by those whose curiosity with regard to their contemporaries must needs die unsatisfied. It has also the valuable effect of heightening the zest with which we fall upon records of the past century, over which the two works here coupled range widely.

Yet never did books less deserve to be classed among the library of dead letters than these meditations of Hervey (not among the tombs, but in drawing-rooms and royal closets) than these epistles of Horace addressed to no Lælius, (still less to a Lælia; "the Chudleigh," his favourite antipathy, monopolizing that name,) but to the graceful, fashionable, kindly Anna, Countess of Ossory. The coincidences they illustrate between the last century and this, are many and curious; the vivacity of their writers is a spirit, the aroma of which no bottling up "in an ancient bin" can transmute into dulness. Progressives and Retrospectives (to use the class jargon of the day) must alike rejoice in the disinterment of chronicles so full of

*Memoirs of the Reign of George the Second, from his Accession to the Death of Queen Caroline. By John Lord Hervey. Edited, from the original manuscript at Ickworth, by the Right Hon. John Wilson Croker, LL.D., F.R.S. 2 vols. Murray.

Letters addressed to the Countess of Ossory, from the year 1769 to 1797. By Horace Walpole, Lord Orford. Now printed from original MSS. Edited, with Notes, by the Right Hon. R. Vernon Smith, M.P. 2 vols. Bentley.