to say, 'Gentlemen, you have done what you believe to be your duty, but I am innocent of the crime for which you condemn me.'

Painful though it must be to a feeling mind to hear such words, they are too common in Ireland, and indeed elsewhere, to produce any conviction of their truth; but though the opinion of others was not affected by them, a feeble voice with an affecting tone of gladness responded to them from among the court below- My blessing on you, John Tennisson, for that saying.'

The prisoner grew still paler, and leaned nearly fainting against the rails, as his removal was protracted in consequence. The girl who had caused the emotion made her way towards him, while some water was procuring; she was herself in a state of excitement which gave her almost the appearance of insanity. Addressing the prisoner, she cried-' It's over, John; and now we'll both die easier than them that brings us to the grave. Brian O'Toole has a black heart this day: but no matter-there's a God in heaven still.'

'Don't spake so, Kate, don't spake so, dear,' said the poor man much agitated. 'God bless you, Kate, and He will.'

'John,' said the girl, 'they'll let me see you maybe once more; but no matter whether or no, we won't be long parted; I'll soon be after you-perhaps before you. It lightens my heart to think that: the weight isn't half so great here then.' She pressed her hand on her heart as she spoke, and then on her head. 'Nor here either; that wild bad pain, that is like burning fire in my head by day and night, sleeping or waking, it isn't half so bad, when I think that

the grass won't be green over you till the sod is over me.'

'Go home, go home,' cried the prisoner, as he was moved onward. God in heaven bless you; and some of you take her home. Kate, mavourneen, go home, and pray for me and for yourself.'

I never saw Nanny absolutely listless until this day; she wandered from one trifling occupation to another, and the extent of her walks was comprised within the space that existed between the French clock on the chimney-piece, and the window that afforded a view of the road looking to the town.

Late in the evening the rector with his guest returned, and entered the room with their hats on their heads and their whips in their hands: their appearance alone conveyed the nature of the tidings they had to give. The former was really unwell, and, after swallowing a glass of wine, was obliged to confess himself so, and to retire to his room, where, shortly after, his daughter was admitted to sit; and, in the absence of more pleasing companions, Mr. Hastings detailed the account of the trial which I have already given, with the addition that, after its termination, the rector, in compliance with the request of the condemned man, had sought for Kate, in order to see her conveyed home, but was informed that she had herself instantly done as he had wished, and proceeded on her way homewards by a shorter road.

A glimpse of our good rector became now a rarity, and, like other rare things, was more prized. We looked forward to his return from his daily visit to the county jail with greater interest than ladies doomed to the monotony of a retired country life

might feel, in anticipation of a circumstance which brought them the news of a borough town. Small, however, was the portion of news conveyed to us by these visits; one object caused them, and that one object monopolized the attention of him who made them. The condemned man was almost all he saw, all he thought of; the desire of leading him, now when the hopes of this life had given way, to entertain one sure and stedfast of the life to come, was the single one that seemed to engage his mind respecting him. This hope he cherished, in this he laboured, for the accomplishment of this he prayed-6 May he know Thee, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent,' was the prayer which, even in the family, he almost constantly offered for poor Tennisson. When life was limited to a certain day, he thought all other engagements less imperative; that day-an awful one, even in an indifferent case to hear ofwas rapidly approaching, when a fine setting sun induced me to ramble further than usual down a retired road, which, though it led to the town in question, was not much used by those who went there.

It was just the evening, and the hour of evening, which might fill the mind with soft, and pleasing, and saddening thoughts-just the evening and the hour, when the brightest and saddest periods of our existence flit around us, like prospects distance has mellowed.

Life is nearly made up of recollection and anticipation; but on such an evening and such an hour we live in the past more than in the future.

This would be a fair opportunity for introducing a fine description of setting suns and beautiful skiesof glowing scenery, and all of nature's richness or

softness of beauty; to sketch a panoramic view, in which may be congregated all that is great and fair,

In earth, or sea, or sky.'

but I must then be the creator of such loveliness, for none such was around the glebe. Yet when the sun was shining over the sides of the far-off hills, and brightening the large dismal lough with its flat, boggy, unplanted banks in front, and its mountainous screen behind-when the same sun, too, shone on the patches of green and secluded little dells, with their young scattered plantations of tall seedling ash and silver-stemmed birch, the feathery larch and dark proud-looking pine-then it altogether looked well enough, at least to well-accustomed eyes.

What an almost unequalled portrait of nature does The Deserted Village' convey. It never is tiresome by being well known, because it is natural. It presents itself, as it were, familiarly to the mind, when we seem to see and hear all the poet did. This evening I could not say,

'Sweet were the sounds when oft at evening's close

Up yonder hill the village murmur rose,'

for village there was none to send its murmur; but still my ear lacked not sounds which pleased it, because they were familiar to it in life's young glowing morn--because they were associated with fresh and vigorous and joyous feelings. Oh! I pity those who cannot look back to a happy childhood-to the free unfettered day-spring of youth-dull schools, and weary lessons, and too early imposed griefs: there have been some who knew none of these. Life brings enough to vex one, and the world proves it may be the severest schoolmistress. Ah! it were

surely well to be more prepared for her lessons; yet it is so sweet to look back to some wild, joyous years, when we dreamed not that its smile or frown could be aught but indifferent to us. These sounds of evening's close were sweet, because they led me back to other scenes and years, and made my heart feel young again. There was the distant whistle of the labourer, and the sweeter whistle of the blackbird in the hedge; the merry voice of the corn-crake in the long grass-I love that discordant voice-and the soft sweet fall of the robin's plaintive song; the distant bark of dogs, and the mellowed sound of children's voices-a motley chorus it was—and another sound was shortly added, the sound of horses' feet.

I looked on, and saw the rector approaching me. The good man was riding very slowly; one hand was in his side; his head was turned away towards a chain of the hills, where the sun was setting. Cold indeed our sunsets are, but this was at least comparatively rich. I remarked his countenance as he came on, to be fuller than usual with serene and saddened composure. It reflected the complexion of his mind. He was passing me without observation: when I spoke he stopped, alighted, and led his horse, while we walked together on to the glebe.

'Look,' he said, pointing his whip to the west, 'that beautiful sunset must be my apology for failing to notice a lady's appearance, rare as it is on our country roads.'

If I am not mistaken,' I replied, there were some connecting thoughts in your mind between that sunset and a remoter object; you were not wholly engaged in gazing on material beauty.'