changing places was overturned. Then it was, that the mistress of the feast, falling back in her seat, and lifting up her hands and eyes in despair, ejaculated: "Oh, James! James!"-The pyramid was raised by the assistance of the military engineers, and stood trembling again on its base; but the lady's temper could not be so easily restored to its equilibrium.' p. 25-28.

We hurry forward now to the cottage scene at Clonbrony; which has made us almost equally in love with the Irish, and with the writer who has painted them with such truth, pathos, and simplicity. An ingenious and good natured postboy overturns his Lordship in the night, a few miles from Clonbrony; and then says,

"If your honour will lend me your hand till I pull you up the back of the ditch, the horses will stand while we go. I'll find you as pretty a lodging for the night, with a widow of a brother of my shister's husband that was, as ever you slept in your life; for old Nick or St. Dennis has not found 'em out yet; and your honour will be, no compare, snugger than the inn at Clonbrony, which has no roof, the devil a stick. But where will I get your honour's hand; for it's coming on so dark, I can't see rightly.-There, you're up now safe. Yonder candle's the house." "Go and ask whether they can give us a night's lodging," "Is it ask? When I see the light! -Sure they'd be proud to give the traveller all the beds in the house, let alone one. Take care of the potato furrows, that's all, and follow me straight. I'll go on to meet the dog, who knows me and might be strange to your honour."

"Kindly welcome," were the first words lord Colambre heard when he approached the cottage; and "kindly welcome" was in the sound of the voice and in the countenance of the old woman, who came out shading her rush-candle from the wind, and holding it so as to light the path. When he entered the cottage, he saw a cheerful fire and a neat pretty young woman making it blaze: she curtsied, put her spinning wheel out of the way, set a stool by the fire for the stranger; and repeating in a very low tone of voice, "Kindly welcome, sir," retired. "Put down some eggs, dear, there's plenty in the bowl," said the old woman, calling to her; "I'll do the bacon. Was not we lucky to be up?-The boy's gone to bed, but waken him," said she, turning to the postillion; "and he'll help you with the chay, and put your horses in the bier for the night."

"No: Larry chose to go on to Clonbrony with the horses, that he might get the chaise mended by times for his honour. The table was set; clean trenchers, hot potatoes, milk, eggs, bacon, and "kindly welcome to all." "Set the salt, dear; and the butter, love, where's your head, Grace, dear?" "Grace!" repeated lord Colambre, looking up; and to apologise for his involuntary exclamation he added, "Is Grace a common name in Ireland?" "I can't say, plase your honour, but it was give her by lady Clonbrony,

from a niece of her own that was her foster-sister, God bless her; and a very kind lady she was to us and to all when she was living in it; but those times are gone past," said the old woman, with a sigh. The young woman sighed too, and sitting down by the fire, began to count the notches in a little bit of stick, which she held in her hand, and after she had counted them, sighed again. “But don't be sighing, Grace, now," said the old woman; " sighs is bad sauce for the traveller's supper, and we wont be troubling him with more," added she, turning to lord Colambre, with a smile" Is your egg done to your liking?" "Perfectly, thank you." "Then I wish it was a chicken for your sake, which it should have been, and roast too, had we time. I wish I could see you eat another egg." "No more, thank you, my good lady; I never ate a better supper, nor received a more hospitable welcome." "O, the welcome is all we have to offer."

"May I ask what that is?" said lord Colambre, looking at the notched stick, which the young woman held in her hand, and on which her eyes were still fixed. "It's a tally, plase your honour. O, you're a foreigner-It's the way the labourers keep the account of the day's work with the overseer. And there's been a mistake, and is a dispute here between our boy and the overseer; and she was counting the boy's tally, that's in bed, tired, for in troth he's over-worked." " Would you want any thing more from me, mother," said the girl, tising and turning her head away. "No, child; get away, for your heart's full." She went instantly. "Is the boy her brother?" said lord Colambre. "No: he's her bachelor," said the old woman, lowering her voice. "Her bachelor?" "That is her sweetheart: for she is not my daughter, though you heard her call me mother. The boy's my son; but I am a feard they must give it up; for the're too poor, and the times is liard, and the agent's harder than the times. There's two of them, the under and the upper, and they grind the substance of one between them, and then blow one away like chaff: but we'll not be talking of that to spoil your honour's night's rest. The room's ready and here's the rush-light." She showed him into a very small, but neat room. "What a comfortable looking bed," said lord Colambre. "Ah, these red check curtains," said she, letting them down; "these have lasted well; they were give me by a good friend now far away, over the seas, my lady Clonbrony, and made by the prettiest hands ever you see, her niece's, miss Grace Nugent's, and she a little child that time, sweet love! all gone!" The old woman wiped a tear from her eye, and tord Colambre did what he could to appear indifferent. She set down the candle and left the room, lord Colambre went to bed, but he lay awake, revolving sweet and bitter thoughts."

"The kettle was on the fire, tea things set, every thing prepared for her guest, by the hospitable hostess, who, thinking the gen tleman would take tea to his breakfast, had sent off a gossoon by the first light to Clonbrony, for an ounce of tea, a quarter of sugar, VOL. I. New Series.

F

and a loaf of white bread, and there was on the little table good cream, milk, butter, eggs-all the promise of an excellent breakfast. It was a fresh morning, and there was a pleasant fire on the hearth neatly swept up. The old woman was sitting in her chimney corner, behind a little skreen of white-washed wall, built out into the room, for the purpose of keeping those who sat at the fire from the blast of the door. There was a loop-hole in this wall, to let the light in, just at the height of a person's head, who was sitting near the chimney. The rays of the morning sun now came through it, shining across the face of the old woman, as she sat knitting. Lord Colambre thought he had seldom seen a more agreeable countenance, intelligent eyes, benevolent smile, a natural expression of cheerfulness, subdued by age and misfortune. "A good-morrow to you kindly, sir, and I hope you got the night well?-A fine day for us this Sunday morning; my Grace is gone to early prayers, so your honour will be content with an old woman to make your breakfast.-O, let me put in plenty, or it will never be good, and if your honour takes stirabout, an old hand will engage to make that to your liking any way, for by great happiness we have what will just answer for you, of the nicest meal the miller made my Grace a compliment of, last time she went to the mill.' p. 171-179.

In the course of conversation, she informs her guest of the precarious tenure on which she held the little possession that formed her only means of subsistence.

"The good lord himself granted us the lase; the life's dropped, and the years is out; but we had a promise of renewal in writing from the landlord.-God bless him! if he was not away, he'd be a good gentleman, and we'd be happy andfsafe."-" But if you have a promise in writing of a renewal, surely, you are safe, whether your landlord is absent or present."-"Ah, no! that makes a great differ, when there's no eye or hand over the agent.-Yet, indeed, there," added she, after a pause, " as you say, I think we are safe; for we have that memorandum in writing, with a pencil, under his own hand, on the back of the lase, to me, by the same token when my good lord had his foot on the step of the coach, going away; and I'll never forget the smile of her that got that good turn done for me, Miss Grace. And just when she was going to England and London, and young as she was, to have the thought to stop and turn to the likes of me! O, then, if you could see her, and know her as I did! That was the comforting angel upon earth-look and voice, and heart and all! O, that she was here present, this minute!—But did you scald yourself?" said the widow to Lord Colambre.— "Sure, you must have scalded yourself; for you poured the kettle straight over your hand, and it boiling! O deear! to think of so young a gentleman's hand shaking like my own."-Luckily, to prevent her pursuing her observations from the hand to the face, which might have betrayed more than Lord Colambre wished she should

know, her own Grace came in at this instant-" There, it's for you safe, mother dear-the lase!" said Grace, throwing a packet into her lap. The old woman lifted up her hands to heaven with the lease between them-"Thanks be to Heaven!" Grace passed on, and sunk down on the first seat she could reach. Her face flushed, and, looking much fatigued, she loosened the strings of her bonnet and cloak-" Then, I'm tired!" but, recollecting herself, she rose, and curtsied to the gentleman." What tired ye dear?" -"Why, after prayers, we had to go-for the agent was not at prayers, nor at home for us when we called-we had to go all the way up to the castle, and there, by great good luck, we found Mr. Nick Garraghty himself, come from Dublin, and the lase in his hands, and he sealed it up that way, and handed it to me very civil. I never saw him so good-though he offered me a glass of spirits, which was not manners to a decent young woman, in a morningas Brian noticed after."—" But why didn't Brian come home all the way with you, Grace?"—" He would have seen me home,” said Grace," only that he went up a peice of the mountain for some stones or ore for the gentleman, for he had the manners to think of him this morning, though shame for me, I had not, when I came in, or I would not have told you all this, and he himself by. See, there he is, mother."-Brian came in very hot, out of breath, with his hat full of stones. "Good morrow to your honour. I was in bed last night, and sorry they did not call me up to be of sarvice. Larry was telling us, this morning, your honour's from Wales, and looking for mines in Ireland, and I heard talk that there was one on our mountain-may be, you'd be curous to see, and so, I brought the best I could, but I'm no judge." Vol. VI. p. 182

-188.

A scene of villany now begins to disclose itself, as the experienced reader must have anticipated. The pencil writing is rubbed out; but the agent promises, that if they pay up their arrears, and be handsome with their sealing money and glove money, &c. he will grant a renewal. To obtain the rent, the widow is obliged to sell her cow. But she shall tell her story in her own words.

"Well, still it was but paper we got for the cow; then that must be gold before the agent would take, or touch it—so I was laying out to sell the dresser, and had taken the plates and cups, and little things off it, and my boy was lifting it out with Andy the carpenter, that was agreeing for it, when in comes Grace, all rosy, and out of breath-it's a wonder I minded her run out, and not missed her Mother, says she, here's the gold for you, don't be stirring your dresser. And where's your gown and cloak, Grace? says I. But I beg your pardon, Sir; may be I'm tiring you?"Lord Colambre encouraged her to go on." Where's your gown and cloak, Grace, says I."- Gone,' says she. The cloak was too warm and heavy, and I don't doubt, mother, but it was that

helped to make me faint this morning. And as to the gown, sure I've a very nice one here, that you spun for me yourself, mother; and that I prize above all the gowns ever came out of a loom; and that Brian said become me to his fancy above any gown ever he see me wear, and what could I wish for more.'-Now I'd a mind to scold her for going to sell the gown unknown'st to me; but I don't know how it was, I couldn't scold her just then, so kissed her, and Brian the same; and that was what no man ever did before.— And she had a mind to be angry with him, but could not, nor ought not, says I; for he's as good as your husband now, Grace; and no man can part yees now, says I, putting their hands together. Well, I never saw her look so pretty; nor there was not a happier boy that minute on God's earth than my son, nor a happier mother than myself; and I thanked God that had given them to me; and down they both fell on their knees for my blessing, little worth as it was; and my heart's blessing they had, and I laid my hands upon them. 'It's the priest you must get to do this for you to-morrow,' says I." Vol. VI. p. 205-207.

Next morning they go up in high spirits to the castle, where the villanous agent denies his promise; and is laughing at their despair, when Lord Colambre is fortunately identified by Mrs. Raffarty, who turns out to be a sister of the said agent, and, like a god in epic poetry, turns agony into triumph.

We can make room for no more now, but the epistle of Larry Brady, the good-natured postboy, to his brother, giving an account of the return of the family to Clonbrony. If Miss Edgeworth had never written any other thing, this one letter must have placed her at the very top of our scale as an observer of character, and a mistress in the simple pathetic. We give the greater part of this extraordinary production.

"My dear Brother,-Yours of the 16th, enclosing the five pound note for my father, came safe to hand Monday last; and, with his thanks and blessing to you, he commends it to you herewith enclosed back again, on account of his being in no immediate necessity, nor likelihood to want in future, as you shall hear forthwith; but wants you over with all speed, and the note will answer for travelling charges; for we can't enjoy the luck it has pleased God to give us, without yees: put the rest in your pocket, and read it when you've time.

Now, cock up your ears, Pat! for the great news is coming, and the good. The master's come home-long life to him!-and family come home yesterday, all entirely! The ould lord and the young lord, (ay, there's the man, Paddy!) and my lady, and miss Nugent. And I driv miss Nugent's maid, that maid that was, and another; so I had the luck to be in it alone wid 'em, and see all, from first to last. And first, I must tell you, my young lord Colambre remembered and noticed me the minute he lit at our inn, and condescended to beckon at me out of the yard to him; and