THE LATE DUKE OF DORSET.

"A view of the Killiney Hills is associated with an event calculated to excite feelings of a very affecting and melancholy nature. It was here that the young and amiable Duke of Dorset, during the Viceroyalty of Lord Whitworth, lost his life. The character of this young nobleman was of the first class, and his maturing virtues promised to shed a more than common lustre on the British peerage. It was the will of Heaven to blast this promise, to extinguish the bright and cherished hopes of an illustrious house, and to plant, in the bosom of an adoring parent, a pang from which death alone can relieve her. Nor was this fine and good young man less dear to Lord Whitworth, who was known to love him 'as though he were his own son.' The history of this affecting casualty is contained in some lines which I recollect to have read, at that time, in the Star, London newspaper, and of which I preserved a copy:

LINES

ON THE DEATH OF THE LATE DUKE OF DORSET.

All bright beams the sun and fresh breathes the spring morn,
And sweetly the thrush pours his note from the thorn;
The cry of the hounds and the huntsman's reveille
Awake the blithe echoes of hill and of valley;
The game is uprous'd and begun is the chase-
O! who is that hunter, whose skill and whose grace,
While proudly o'er plain and o'er barrier he flies,
Engages, unrivall'd, all hearts and all eyes?

'Tis Dorset's young lord, of a race as renown'd
As ever, at hunter or warrior sound,

To chase or to battle rush'd forth to the field,
To make, or the game, or the foeman, to yield;
And mark you his steed, thro' the fallow so deep,
Ill pace with his rider's bold spirit can keep;
All weary and sinking, he totters-he falls,
And the death-cry of sorrow is heard in our halls.

Go, Baron of POWERSCOURT, weep in the shade,
Thy noble young guest on his death bier is laid;
From the chase of Killiney he ne'er will return,
And sea-nymphs, at lone night, shall weep o'er his urn.
No more on these hills shall be heard the gay sound
Of merry ton'd horn and cry of the hound;

But ravens shall scream, and the sea-mist abide

Cold and dark o'er the spot where the young Dorset died!*

"From Killiney we proceeded through Bullock and Dunleary, two small fishing towns; at the latter, which is a favorite summer residence of the citizens of Dublin, a new harbour is forming for the reception of shipping in tempestuous weather, and when the bar cannot be

* On the 14th of February, 1815, the Duke having been on a visit with his friend and school-fellow, Lord Powerscourt, was hunting with his lordship's harriers, and in pursuit of a hare on Killiney hill, when his mare having cleared a wall, landed on some large loose stones on the other side, and fell with her rider under. His Grace was conveyed to the nearest house, belonging to a Mr. Farrell, and expired before surgical assistance could be obtained. The mare, it is said, was blown before she made the leap, in consequence of having been galloped at her speed across an intervening fallow. Lord Powerscourt was so affected by this melancholy and afflicting casualty, that he immediately parted with his hounds, and relinquished the amusement of the chase. Mr. Farrell has erected a rude and simple monument on the spot where the duke was killed.

passed with security. It is worthy of remark, and should impress itself deeply upon the public mind of Ireland, that this improvement, and that of Howth harbour, so very essential to the commerce of the port of Dublin, and so important to the interests of its inhabitants and of humanity, was never thought of or moved by a resident legislature. I believe I shall not defame its memory by saying that its members were too uniformly and too anxiously engaged in personal objects and intrigues; and although not a year passed without frightful and afflicting evidences of the necessity of rendering the harbour of Dublin more secure, the destruction of property, and the shrieks of the shipwrecked mariner, were absorbed in the eager and selfish avidity of acquiring places and pensions for themselves and their connexions, and converting the mock independence of their country to the indulgence of their own corruption and rapacity. Yet there are some senseless persons here who are constantly exclaiming against the legislative union, and complaining of the injury which it has done to Dublin; but the most serious and tangible subject of complaint which I heard of is, that the sound of the trader's carriage is oftener heard in the streets than that of the nobleman, and that the shopkeeper used, occasionally, to let to a member of parliament those apartments which he is now enabled to reserve for himself.

"At a small distance from Dunleary, and nearer to town is the populous village of Black-rock, much resorted to in summer for sea-bathing; it was formerly in

more request than it is now. Of this excursion which afforded me so much pleasure, and which, I hope, will not have been wholly unproductive of some to you, in the perusal of this account of it, I have only to add, that we reached town safe and well, and meditating further and varied enjoyments on the lakes of Westmeath. These enjoyments shall be shared with you, if you encourage me to persist in the detail of my angling excursions in Ireland."

END OF THE COUNTY WICKLOW EXCURSIONS.

RYTHMICAL TABLE

Of the principal flies for angling, and the seasons in which they should be used; communicated to the Editor by the ingenious MR. THOMAS ETTINGSALL, proprietor of the sporting tackle establishment, Wood-quay, Dublin.

"Of various flies that sport upon the wing,
Their angling seasons, and their names I sing."

PETRUS PISCATOR.

From age to age the rural pastimes grew,
Necessity first urged, then pleasures new
From wants supplied arose, and none more pure
Than from the deep the finny tribe to lure:
The high, the low, the simple, and the wise,
Make it a study how a trout to rise.

The pale mechanic hails his holiday,
And to the gurgling streamlet speeds his way;
There, in the lonely vale, to praise his God,
And seek contentment from his pliant rod;
At eve returning with his basket's store,
And health renew'd for six days' labour more.
O! where on earth is pleasure so secure
From every ill to rich as well as poor,