wouldn't have a secret of that sort for the world; I don't like 'emthey hang about the lips like a cobweb-cling to the tongue like a lump of lead—and the truth is, that whenever I know a sacret it keeps creepin', creepin' up my throat, and botherin' me till it gets out. Sure the comfort of it is having it to tell-it makes a body feel somebody, so it does-ye'r sure to have the best corner and the best in the house, for the first news." "What an excellent person you are to tell a secret to!" observed Alice. “Troth an' I am, if you knew but all; yet leave off now, for you're laughing at me--I see that as plain as anything; honour bright! as if I couldn't keep a sacret if needful-no matter how uneasy it would make me. Ah! Miss Alice, you don't do me justice, that you don't, nor never did, so you didn't. When your father, his own self, questioned me last night "My father question you, Ellen!" exclaimed Alice, really alarmed; "what could my father question you about?" "Indeed then, though people call him Stiff Tom Dizney, and say he has no joints in his back bone, yet I find him a civil spoken gentleman, and mighty sweet at times. Pretty Nelly,' says he, after I made my curtsey, Pretty Nelly, what takes you so often to Cloughiennabourn, to the Post Office? have you, or any belonging to you, a sweetheart at sca?' No, Sir,' says I; No, Sir,' says I, plump to him at once, and looking innocent-like up in his face. You're a mighty pretty girl grown entirely,' says he. Thank ye kindly, Sir,' says I, taking the word out of his mouth, and making another curtsey, all the young boys do be telling me so; but to be sure your honour's mind is a great deal the best, on account of your age and experience.' Well, he seemed a little put out on account of the age, which no man likes to be tould of by a young girl, but still he was too cute to be put off with that; 'I'm not disputin' the boys' taste, Nelly, which agrees with my own, but maybe there's not many of them would give you this;' and he puts a bran new half-crown piece into my hand; and now, Nelly,' says he, as you are a staid sober girl, and often with my daughter-why-she's not very well-and if she got a letter from foreign parts it might distress her-make her worse-and I should just like to look at it first-that's all.' Ay, Sir,' says I, looking innocenter and innocenter every time, 'to be sure you'd be the fittest, but I'll take my davy if you please that never a line has she got from foreign parts; and as to her writing, sure sorra a pen have you let stay in the house for her to write with.' Well, Miss Alice, it's as thruc as that I'm a living girl this moment, as I said the last lie, the ould white gander that we pulls the pens out of was going past with his goslings to the pond at the same time, and as if he wanted to tell the masther on me, he stretches out his wing, and screams out Gee-he-he-he! Gee-he-he-he! as loud as ever he could; and not satisfied with that, he makes a pluck at me, and he passing; now wasn't it quare, Miss Ally? I told the lie, quite easy and natural-like (though I didn't tell the secret, mind ye)-I told the lie, and sorra a morsel of blush that brought to my face; but when the poor dumb thing showed the wing, and gee-he'd, I thought I'd have died with the shame, it seemed so quare-like to be confounded by a silent beast that way; faith, I was ashamed to look the gander in the face!" "My poor Ellen," sighed Alice, "I would keep you from, not bring you to, shame, and yet Why sure, Miss Alice, you are not going to take on about that! Sorra a more your father got out of me ——. So you see however uneasy it makes me, I can keep a secret-sometimes. Now, darlint, there's the smoke from the Bocher's fire curlin' above the bushes-how pretty the smoke do be of an evening. Somehow of a morning there's nothing in it-only smoke; but after a far journey, or a hard day's work in the fields, the sight of the light, white smoke climbing without 'ere a ladder into the sky from the chimbley of my own cabin, always makes me gay hearted." "I never thought your heart was sad," replied Alice, as they came in sight of the Bocher's curiously-constructed sheeling. "Och, Ma'am," replied the uncultivated peasant girl," every hill has its hollow and every time the wave rises it falls." No philosopher could have spoken more to the purpose on the changes and chances, the ups and downs of life, than did poor Ellen in her simplicity. The chimney of the Bocher's dwelling had the appearance of having been once a mast-it was whispered that it had really been the hollowed mast of a smuggling vessel; be that as it may, several birds which the kindly habits of the solitary man had rendered almost domestic, flew in and out of various holes towards the top, which he had perforated for their accommodation. Under the eaves of the hut, which a very moderatelysized person could touch without reaching the hand above the head, were the mud-nests of innumerable martins; and the thatch, composed as it was of a strange mingling of rushes and straw-with here and there a blue slate or a red tile-was literally alive with sparrows, who, where they could not find holes, had scooped them, and therein made their nests of hay, lined with feathers, and laid therein cach pair - five or six white eggs, spotted with red, in the hope of keeping up the sparrow tribe, which no naturalist that ever I heard of yet dreaded would become extinct-little busy, noisy, destructive chatterers they are. Over the door was a round hole which enabled several pigeons to go in and out-partakers alike of their master's affections and his fare; beneath grunted and grubbed a pig, while a one-eyed grey-faced terrier, whose upper lip, nearly torn off in some rude fray, exposed to view a set of aged, yet most unamiable, teeth, which rendered him certainly a very picturesque, if not a very pleasing personage, kept a careful look out over all living things and their behaviour; the fellow's one eye also possessed the intelligence of two, it was so bright, so keen, so observant-no vile rat, no stoat, no weazel, neither badger, nor cub fox could escape" Fangs," that is, when he thought proper to exert his talents and industry for their destruction; but he was not always disposed to activity-he suffered from the inroads of time, and waged but little war, except indeed that occasionally he would seize on an incautious wild rabbit, never meddling with hares, an animal his master took under his own especial protection, and Fangs protected all his master cared for, a proof of canine friendship which man would do well to imitate. Fangs had seen Ellen so frequently that he treated her as an old acquaintance, moved from his position, and wagged his little stumpy tail in token of recognition. He smelt Alice's hand, and seemed satisfied that - she might be permitted to enter the hut without so much as a suspicious growl; and as she bowed her head in compliance with the rules prescribed by the low door-way, the Bocher from within cried, or rather whispered out,-" Easy-easy-turn your shadow t'other way-there-thereeasy-easy or you'll fright her off her nest.-My dawshy darlint you war-keep still, my beauty-there now-there now-easy-easyNelly, keep quite-will you!-Well, Nelly, sure I am, there was a cross in my star the night you war born, for it 's one of my heart's scalds, you are-Will you, and her that's with you, just keep easy till I settle Vourneen on her nest, or else I'll lay the addling of her eggs on the pair of you!" Thus warned, the two girls stood on the threshold, Ellen smiling, and even making wry faces at the delay, Alice patiently waiting until she was desired to enter, while the Bocher continued talking to his favourite white pigeon, Vourneen, who appeared to have a way of her own. "It's your coming, Nelly, has bothered the bird!" he exclaimed in an angry tone," and it's small sense and worse manners you have, to stand there making faces at the wise man-if wise he be-Ay, stop, now that you're found out, and look as mild as new milk.-Ah! there's more cunning in you than's good for you, any way. What are you after now? Have you got a new bachelor and sent off the ould one? or have you lost the half of a lucky sixpence? or do you want a cup tossed, (when you want that done, I'll trouble you not to forget to bring the tay, as you did last time,) or do you want to find out whether your colour at the next pattern should be blue or green?-to think of a man like me, and with my knowledge, being bothered about such things by a pack of silly wenches! God be with the times, when those well-born and well-bred came to the lone Bocher of the Red-gap, to know of wars, and signs, and life, and death! Ah, those war times!" "Indeed, then, Daddy," replied the mortified Ellen, who had often boasted to Alice that she was one of the Bocher's prime favourites, "indeed, then, Daddy, though you're a little put out now, I can tell you, that many a girl comes from the love and respect she has for yourself, and only that." "Love!" screamed the Bocher, irritated at the word, "Love!--love for me! What girl ever loved me!-ever could love this-Ah!-ah !— love a crooked back-a lame, disjointed leg, and a withered arm-respect too-no, no-not respect, but fear-sharp, bitter fear!" He continued muttering and murmuring to himself, when, in the midst of his invectives, Vourneen, his favourite, escaped from his assiduities, and flew almost into Alice's bosom; the pretty white creature expanded and contracted the circle of her pink and glowing eyes, and did not seem at all inclined to leave the protection she had chosen, and the Bocher, as he came forth to seek her, seemed both pleased and surprised to see her there. "Oh, Vourneen, Vourneen," he exclaimed, attempting to caress the bird, who made believe to pick at his finger with her fair soft bill"there's no use fighting against natur, her own two eggs were broke by accident, and I wanted to give her two others--but she knows the differ --she knows the differ now.-You 're in luck, young woman, to have a white pigeon light on your shoulder-you 're in great luck—it's a blessed omen.-Vourneen, agra! it's long till you'd go to that brown-skinned witch, though you know her fast enough, and good right you have to remember her, by token of the feathers she pulled out of your tail for mischief." Law, Daddy! that was long ago, when I had but small sense." "Small sense! small sense! repeated the Bocher, as if you ever had any other; and now, Mistress Nelly, just because you bothered Stiff Tom Dizney last night, about his daughter's letter and the like, you think you have a right I suppose to walk yourself in here, and gather yourself up in my chimney-corner, and opening that great flytrap of a mouth of yours, swallow down every word said by Miss Alice to me, or me to Miss Alice; but you never war more out in your life, so tramp off with yourself, while Miss Alice and I talk our talk." "You're the heart's blood of an ugly baste, that you are!" exclaimed Ellen angrily-so much in anger at losing her anticipated gossip that she forgot her fear for the mysterious Bocher; "you're an ugly baste, Daddy, and a mean one too, for throwing the dirty drop of tay in my face that I didn't bring; and as it was I who coaxed Miss Alice here for your advice-like a fool as I was-I'm bound to take her back, lest any harm should happen her, in your dirty den, with your beastices and your ugly self." "Oh, you are, are you?" replied the Bocher, drawing his bushy eyebrows closely together-so closely that they formed a complete ledge of thick black hair across his forehead. "I am-she shan't stay here-she shan't-come along, Miss Alice— come along." The Bocher, without saying another word, seized Ellen's round, red arm within the vice-like grasp of his long yellow fingers, and elevating himself on his crutch, so as to bring his mouth on a level with her ear, he whispered one or two words which Alice did not hear; the effect, however, was electrical on her companion, who, from being more than rosy-red from passion, grew deadly pale; the cripple's lips separated, and he laughed while withdrawing his grasp. "Am I an ugly baste now, Ellen ?" "No, Daddy," replied the girl, trembling, " not ugly, not-at-allugly; I was joking.” "Did I throw a drop of dirty tay in your face, Ellen ?" "No, Sir, it was good-beautiful tay, so it was; and I drank it, Sir, God bless you.' "And are you afraid now to leave Miss Alice with me and my beastices ?" "Law, no, Sir-no, Daddy-not at all-they're all gentle purty dears -and this is a nice-clean-little-tidy-place!" "Very good, Ellen," said the Bocher, and extending his long arm, he pointed to the road; Ellen understood the hint and walked out. "God help us!" muttered the village-seer, as he shut-to the door upon Alice and himself; "God help us! how easy it is with the world to blow hot and cold-poor fools! poor fools! and now, Alice Dizney, for your folly, though it is different from her's." (To be continued.) APOSTROPHE TO THE APPROACHING COMET. "It may be considered as tolerably certain, that the comet will become visible in every part of Europe about the latter end of August, or beginning of September next. On the night of the 3rd of October, about midnight, it will appear in the east, at an elevation of about thirty degrees; and will be a little above a line joining the bright star called Castor, with the star called in the Great Bear. Between that hour and sunrise, it will ascend the firmament, and will cross the meridian near the zenith of London about sunrise."-Edinburgh Review. Art. Approaching Comet. THE end of August! Potentate august, Is that the period settled for your visit? Is that indeed the time when life's short crust Must be consumed-baked-burnt to cinders? Is it? Then August's" latter end" is ours, I think, If as your advent you've resolved to fix it; Oh! for a Mediterranean of ink, To blot out the Reviewer's ipse dixit! Mediterranean! or blue, or black, Or green, each deep ere long will be a Red-sea; The very tide of Life will be a Dead-sea. For have not several " pages" brought us here One quarter more, and show us no more quarter! Is it not stated, to astound all earth, (And be it fact or falsehood, I've no share in't) That men shall see a strange and fearful BirthThat thou, O Comet, wilt become a-parent? Terrible tidings-wonder full of woe! Do these astronomers proclaim it rightly, A litter of young comets !-Literature At once grows convert to the creed Malthusian, Deems the new birth a case of clear intrusion. But stay, a letter from Vienna ;—what? "Tis said by Herschel-see the public papersThe comet seeks a more sequestered lot, And all our fierce volcanoes are mere vapours. Its course quite changed-its orbit not the same- |