own way in the matter, pray let me know how you intend to act. You will go with a message, of course, to the ruffian !' Why, you see, my dear fellow,' stuttered I,-'you see that requires consideration;—that is, of course, I undertake the affair. In fact, I should be very sorry to let it get into other hands; but there may be difficulties, you know;' and although it went to my heart to speak ill of myself, even incognito, I added, the person may not be such a one as you can meet. His conduct doesn't speak much for his respectability." N'importe - n'importe, I won't be particular,' was the truculent reply, so you'd better go about it at once, and get six in the morning named for the hour, if you can.' But the man may not be able to meet you,' suggested I, sounding my way. 'What's to hinder him? Do you foresee any difficulties?' 'Faith, I do,' I replied, several very important ones. Suppose, for instance 'Then all I have to do in that case,' roared Mr. Beecher, is to seek my satisfaction how I can, and never fear, I shan't come short for a method; the sooner it comes to that the better; so you ought to go at once, and ascertain whether I shall be driven to such conduct.' 'But how am I to know the man?' inquired I, in great hopes of raising a difficulty. 'Betty will tell you, if you let her,' was the answer. Much obliged,' I replied; 'Betty might tell too much, so I shan't avail myself of her information. How was the person described to you!' for I was naturally anxious to sound the full depth of his knowledge in that particular. 'As a tall, ill-looking fellow,' was his graphic reply, 'with immense black whiskers; a shabby-genteel, audacious sort of customer; wears a green coat, with brass buttons, and the rest of his garb made up of several other glowing colours; in fact, just the man that might lawfully be suspected of such a piece of ruffianism.' I trembled as he gave these signs and tokens, all so fearfully distinct, and which to any third person, whose mind was less pre-occupied, would have described Hugh Kelly the Younger, of Lisnisky, more legibly than would be gratifying. Luckily for me, the chamber. maid had followed the true instinct of her tribe by lying in the account she gave of her observation of my movements,-for, had she confined her report of my doings to what had actually occurred on that day, my confusion would of itself have directed his suspicions towards me; but being through her exaggerations impressed with the belief that the delinquent, whoever he was, had been for some time a resident in Dublin, and occupant of the room, the scene of my ill-directed amiabilities, while he knew that I had but arrived that morning, his attention was totally turned away from the extraordinary and striking coincidences which existed between the outer man of the unknown and that of his perplexed guest. This was the only solitary feature in the whole transaction upon which I could found the slightest hope. We are very fond of alibis in Connaught; and, if the worst went to the worst, (thanks to the mendacity of Mrs. Beecher's maid, Betty,) I could, at least, establish that proof of my innocence. But all depended on my being able to prevail on Beecher to forego his desire to have a personal interview with the object of his wrath, and every method which I had hitherto attempted was a failure. My hopes of escape were narrowing and vanishing. I saw that it behoved me to betake myself to what means of refuge I possessed. The case was desperate; the gentleman ready to explode with impatience, and seeking but a reasonable excuse for taking the matter into his own hands, and personally vindicating the insulted delicacy of his wife, by rushing across the street and invading the premises of the adversary. A desperate-a truly desperate remedy occurred to me in this dilemma. I had no time to deliberate; it was neck-or-nothing with me: so, summoning all my assurance to my aid, I boldly exclaimed, I bet you a guinea I know the man.' 'The devil you do!' replied Beecher, eyeing me with a very dubious expression. 'Yes,' answered I, still keeping up an appearance of nonchalance while I despatched my forlorn hope- that is, if the house opposite be number twenty-one, street.' 'Well, so it is,' rejoined Beecher. Didn't you know all that before?' 'Pooh! how could I, and I only a few hours in Dublin?' was my answer. 'It must be the same man,' I boldly continued; 'it's a most curious coincidence. I happen to know of a person lodging in that very house answering the description you have given in every particular. We had him in Athlone for some months, where I chanced to meet him, and to learn that this was his Dublin address.' 'Will you favour me with that gentleman's name, if you please,' said Beecher, very coolly, taking an inkstand from the mantelpiece, and otherwise preparing himself for a scribble. 'Certainly, if you wish,' I replied; but it is much more material for you to know what will obviate the possibility of everything you have in contemplation. A circumstance like this requires that truth should be told even where delicacy and feeling would wish to conceal the fact. It pains me very much to have to acquaint you that the wretched man is mad; is subject, of course, to some lucid intervals; but, from what you have told me, it is evident he is now in one of his most outrageous fits; common charity requires that the proprietor should be acquainted with the matter, in order that the poor creature may be removed as quietly and secretly as possible to some place of security, an office which I shall take on myself before I go to bed to-night.' 'No go, Hugh,' was the cool rejoinder; 'it's very creditable to you, and all that, to preserve me from the casualties of a duel; and I dare say (though you say nothing about it), you are not wholly disinterested in the welfare of your friend opposite either, since he turns out to be your friend; but I tell you what, if he was as mad as the man that married his grandmother, he shan't escape me.' 'Tut-tut, man!' said I, deprecatingly, would you ask a madman to fight a duel?' 'Why, exclaimed Beecher, my own private opinion is, that the deuce à man ever fought a duel but a madman. However, I don't want to go to that length with him; in consideration of his infirmity I'll be satisfied if I find he's really out of his senses; for which purpose you and I, Hugh, will step across the street now, while Emily is getting tea ready, and will hear what he has to say for himself;' and he rose to depart. With a grave Another chance remained, my last, and I tried it. and solemn expression I asked, 'And how would you act, Beecher, in case you were not satisfied on that point, when I tell you, in addition, that the unfortunate being whom you wrongly designate as my friend, is neither more nor less than a common bagman?' A common bagman!' slowly repeated the infuriated husband. 'A bagman dare to treat my wife in that manner! Then, by Mercury, god of trade, I'll supply him with as choice a bagfull of sorebones as ever Phil Crampton operated on.' To my inexpressible horror he made a burst towards the door to set about putting his truculent threat in execution. This was a contingency for which I had not at all calculated. I scarce knew what to do, but at all risks he should be prevented. I sprang in his way, to prevent his egress, using every entreaty that self-preservation could suggest; but he refused to listen to anything. A slight scuffle and some loud words ensued; for, between wine and excitement, he was one part drunk and three parts unmanageable. The noise we made became louder, and was responded to at last by an outcry in the hall outside, which gathered finally to the door leading into the apartment. The uproar increased, and the frenzies of my fear kept pace with it. Mrs. Beecher's voice rose amid the din, accompanied by another female squeak, which I attributed to the dreaded chambermaid. Violent but ineffectual efforts were made to open the door, which, it may be remembered, I had previously secured. The usual process failing, another was resorted to, and finally it was burst in, discovering to the view of the alarmed intruders the master of the house and his guest tugging at each other in good earnest-for, in the delirium of my terror, I believe I made rather a serious attack on my host, perhaps in instinctive anticipation of the scene I knew was preparing for me. We were torn asunder by the footman. Mrs. B. flung herself, fainting and screaming, into the arms of her husband, whose place, as my antagonist, the saucepan showed an inclination to assume. I had no time for ceremony; and, as the coast was clear, I contented myself with flooring the ambitious man of livery, and leaping across his prostrate body, plunged through the group, gained the hall, seized my hat, and bolted-would that I could say unrecog nized. The accents of a female voice rang in my ears as I departed. 'Och, you ugly Turk!' was its burden, wasn't it bad enough for you to go coort the misthress, without axin' to murther the masther after?' ་ NATIONAL DEFICIENCIES. A GAUL, with shrug and most imperious frown, J. S. ONE HOUR WITH DEATH! SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE BY SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS IN THE DULWICH GALLERY. And on and on, o'er clod and stone, Towards a glimmering light through the darksome night, Which beam'd from a cottage pane. And a lovely sight did that glimmering light Show to the gazers there; In the twilight gloom of a lonely room Sat a lady pale and fair.* In heavy unrest on her gentle breast, Its young brow knit with pain, Lay the fever'd cheek of an infant weak, Too feeble to complain. The tear-drop was dry in the mother's eye, Her cold lips spoke no word; Her will she had given to the will of Heaven She was waiting on the Lord! * For the following eight stanzas, see Room II. No. 143, Dulwich Gallery. Yet ever a glance she cast askance Through the doubtful gloom of that silent room, He has passed the door, he treads the floor, But a bright form was seen to rush between, 'Destroyer, flee! Oh, not to thee, And in thy brief hour of impotent power, When I may not bid thee fly; Not to them shalt thou bring or terror or sting, Nor to thee shall be victory! 'Back, wretch!' O'erpowered, the grim shape cowered, And winced like a chidden boy, Then again on its course he urged his pale horse, At a lordly hall was his next stern call, Afraid to pray, a rich man lay, His failing ear, it could not hear But he knew whose steed had slacked its speed, His straining eye could naught descry O'er his couch of sculptured gold, Save the gloating stare of some eager heir, Or the glance of some menial cold. Oh! he would have given for one hope of Heaven, And one of Love's true tears, All his wealth, and his lands, and have toiled with his hands For bread through a thousand years. But he turned his face from the Spirit of Grace, He scoffed at the orphan's cry His God it was pelf, his love it was self, He must godless, loveless, die! That groan was his last.-But the hour is past, 'Hast thou had enough?' said that rider rough, 'What! at once away? pale trembler, stay, There's a parting word to tell,— When next thou shalt ride with Death by thy side, Thou wilt not come off so well.' S. N. H. |