feelings in our hearts, even while they breathed of decay, for we looked beyond the passing change, and remembered,

As in a wheel all sink to reascend,

All die to live, all to re-flourish, fades;
Emblem of man who passes, not expires.

One lovely sunset evening would I recal before the mists of receding years conceal it for ever from my view. Too fast does Time overshadow memory, yet it seems as if its veiling shades had fallen less thickly on the sunny hours of early youth, than on any other period of my long career.

The crimson-tinted pathway of the evening sky was reflected upon the calm waters of Lough Conn,—upon its shores, the yellow larch, the brown and coppery beech, the dark green pine, and feathery birch, mingled their shaded foliage; Longford Island, (since despoiled of its leafy honours) contributed its quota of variegated vegetation; on the west, a flock of sheep dotted the grassy foreground, on which the setting sun had thrown a golden tinge ; and on the east, the dark purple form of Nephin More stood conspicuous amid the deepening shadows.

I contemplated the scene with feelings of unmingled satisfaction, for it was peopled with happy hearts. It was the bridal day of Owen and Aileen Moran, which nature had arrayed in lines which mocked the blue, unchanging skies of Italy.

My father's first act on his return to his ancestral demesnes, had been to reward those faithful adherents who had protected his children in the time of need. He gave Owen possession of a small farm near Glencarra, with some stock as a portion for Aileen. To Mabel's demand he found it more difficult to accede; for she

requested a brocaded silk covering for the altar of her parish chapel, and was with difficulty prevailed upon to accept any other guerdon.

Most of the tenantry had been invited to grace the nuptials of Aileen; and long and loudly they cheered as my father led my mother down the steps of the mansion to preside on the joyful occasion. Long ranges of tables had been laid out upon the lawn, one of which was set apart for the Moran family.

Tig grian a n-diaidh na fearthana, (the sunshine of joy follows rain,') sententiously observed old Mabel as she took her seat. Father Matthew had not as yet entered on his existence, much less promulgated his admirable doctrines; so each took, without scruples, his cruiskeen lawn, the stewards of the feast taking care that none of the guests should be tempted to exceed the limits of temperance.

Suddenly an invisible band of songsters commenced the beautiful air of Aileen aroon,' or 'Ellen, secret treasure of my heart,' since better known among the melodies of Moore as

"Erin, the tear, and the smile in thine eye."

Many other specimens of vocal melody followed this appropriate air. My father chose to dispense with the usual accompaniments of a peasant's wedding, such as drinking, smoking, and dancing; and in their stead he substituted an original plan of his own. After the repast had ended he summoned all his guests in the servants' hall, where the novel displays of a large magic lantern amused and delighted the unsophisticated minds of these children of nature. When darkness had closed in, their astonishment was still further excited by a grand exhibition of fire-works, with which I must say, Lily, Gore,

and I were as much entertained, as were the tenants for whose amusement they were displayed. But more than coloured rockets or stars did the names of Owen and Aileen, traced in quivering characters of flame, excite our unqualified admiration. At length the happy party separated; and I am sure the links between landlord and tenant were strengthened, as each family discussed the day's entertainment, while wending its homeward way over moorland and meadows.

Before Aileen had been a week established in her new home, she set out to seek her old friend Fitzgerald, who had the instrument of her conversion from Popery. He gladly obeyed her summons, and, having obtained her husband's consent, appointed an evening in each week, on which to attend at Owen's house, and read the Irish scriptures to as many of the neighbours as chose to attend. Under cover of the darkness of winter nights, many came, who would not have dared to venture by daylight, lest the priest should become cognizant of their proceedings. After the first meeting, the house was generally filled with most attentive auditors.

Cormac Dhu was never present on these occasions, and he also succeeded in preventing his parents' attendance. Notwithstanding this conduct, he met with a severe reprimand from Father Barret, who approached while Cormac was getting in his potato crop, after finding with much disappointment, that a great portion of it had failed, notwithstanding the favourable dryness of the season.

Its only what you had a good right to expect, Cormac Dhu,' said the priest, 'where's the use of yer keeping to yer own duties, while your own flesh and blood go to the bad before your eyes, and you looking on, as if 'twas going to heaven they wor. There's Aileen

fairly gone-lost for ever: now Norah is following fast in her steps;—she'll go next, and then you may look out for another sign of the curse of God on you and yours. 'Twont be only yer potato crop that 'ill go to loss then, but day an' night, all you have 'ill waste away, till the birds 'ill fly through the roofless windows of yer cabin.'

'Ah thin, Father Barret,' cried poor Cormac, 'how can yer riverence spake that a way to a poor craythur like me, when you know I've no hand in the matther? Didn't I do my best? Didn't I keep Aileen locked up, and bate her every day, and go nigh to killing her with the hunger, and what good did it do her, at all at all? It only med her run off, and hide at the Baptist ministher's in Ballina, till she cum back as black a Protestant as e'er a one of them all."

"You can't help her, sure enough,' replied Father Barret,' she's a gone woman, nothin' ud save her. But if I see Norah goin' every day to larn the same wickedness from Aileen, its you I'll blame; for I've spoken to Norah till I'm hoarse, telling her to keep from her, but she minds me no more nor if I was a dog barking.'

'Its a poor case,' said black Cormac, 'I've nothing in the wide world to say agin the girl, but that one thing. Since my good woman died off on St. John's eve, poor Norah has been a kind mother to my childer, and the best of good sishthers to me. Sure, Ni huil aaon gan locht (there is no one without a fault,) and just bekase Norah has that one little fault, that she must keep runnin' afther Aileen, must I begin to lock her up and bate her, and give her the worst of bad thratement. Musha, musha, but its a poor case.'

'Better for you to do that same, nor let her go to hell afther Aileen. Sure you know yourself they wont

even be let into purgatory, wanst they commit such mortal sin.'

'Well, well if I must, I must, and I cant help it,' said Cormac, 'I'll thry coaxing first, but if I do stop her, Father, wont yer riverence put in a good word for me, and stop my potatos' rotting away this a way ?'

There's no knowing what I might do, Cormac, if you change entirely, entirely,' replied the priest, ‘but the sin of not stopping her before 'ill lie on you, 'till you go seven times round the holy well of Adragoole, and at every turn, say seven Ave Marias, and a Paternoster.'

' And that I'll do, with the help of God, on the very next Sunday that's coming,' said the poor deluded Cormac, as priest Barret turned to pursue his walk.

The weekly meetings were continued without any interruption at Aileen's house. She constantly told us of new inquirers, who had joined the little assembly of labourers who curtailed their hours of rest after their daily toil, of old men and young maidens who braved the wet wintry nights, to accompany their sons and brothers to hear the sweet story of pace.'

At length, my father determined to attend one of the meetings incognito, and by earnest entreaty I prevailed upon him to allow me to accompany him. The evening was very dark, but we were well acquainted with the path, and the distance was but short to Aileen's house. As we drew near the stile close to it, we heard the voice of Father Barret raised in angry reproof. He had been holding a station at a farmer's house up the mountain, some miles distant; a good dinner had succeeded the duties of the confessional, and the reception of Christmas dues, and the effects of the potteen which he had imbibed were perceptible in the thick huskiness of his tones.