appearance of light, or hear a single sound, however faint, to break the stillness in which it slept. Bartle, immediately after their arrival in the haggard, separated from his companion, in order, he said, to give notice of interruption, should Una be either watched or followed.

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Besides, you know," he added, "sweethearts like nobody to be present but themselves, when they do be spakin' soft to one another. So I'll jist keep dodgin' about, from place to place, wid my eye an' ear both open, an' if any intherloper comes I'll give yees the hard word.”

Heavily and lazily creep those moments during which an impatient lover awaits the approach of his mistress ; and woe betide the wooer of impetuous temperament who is doomed, like our hero, to watch a whole hour and a half in vain. Many a theory did his fancy body forth, and many a conjecture did he form as to the probable causes of her absence. Was it possible that they watched her even in the dead hour of night? Perhaps the grief she felt at her father's refusal to sanction the match, had brought on indisposition; and,-oh, harrowing thought! perhaps they had succeeded in prevailing upon her to renounce him and his hopes for But no; their affection was too pure and steadfast to admit of a supposition so utterly unreasonable. What then could have prevented her from keeping an appointment so essential to their future prospects, and to the operations necessary for them to pursue? Some plan of intercourse-some settled mode of communication must be concerted between them, a fact as well known to herself as to him.

ever.

"Well, well," thought he, "whatever's the reason of her not coming, I'm sure the fault is not her's; as it is, there's no use in waitin' this night any longer."

Flanagan, it appeared, was of the same opinion, for in a minute or two he made his appearance, and urged their return home. It was clear, he said, that no interview could take place that night, and the sooner they reached the barn and got to bed the better."

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Folly me," he added; "we can pass through the yard, cross the road before the hall-door, and get over the stile, by the near way through the fields that's behind the orchard."

Connor, who was by no means so well acquainted with the path as his companion, followed him in the way

pointed out, and in a few minutes they found themselves walking at a brisk pace in a direction that led homewards by a shorter cut. Connor's mind was too much depressed for conversation, and both were proceeding in silence, when Flanagan started in alarm, and pointed out the figure of some one walking directly towards them. In less than a minute the person, whoever he might be, had come within speaking distance, and, as he shouted out "who comes there?" Flanagan bolted across the ditch along which they had been going, and disappeared.

"A friend," returned Connor, in reply to the question.

The other man advanced, and with a look of deep scrutiny peered into his face. "A friend,” he exclaimed; “faith, it's a quare hour for a friend to be out. Who are you, eh? Is this Connor O'Donovan ?"

"It is; but you have the advantage of me."

"If your father was here he would know Phil Curtis, any way."

I ought to 'a known the voice myself," said Connor; " Phil, how are you? an' what's bringin' yourself out at this hour?"

Why, I want to buy a couple o' milk cows in the fair o' Kilturbit, an' I'm goin' to catch my horse, an' make ready. It's a stiff ride from this, an' by the time I'm there it 'ill be late enough for business, I'm thinkin'. There was some one wid you; who was it?"

It's no sacret to me as it is," replied Curtis; "half the parish knows it; so make your mind asy on that head. Good night, Counor! I wish you success, any how; you'll be a happy man if you get her; although from what I hear has happened, you have a bad chance, except herself stands to you."

The truth was, that Fardorougha's visit to the Bodagh, thanks to the high tones of his own shrill voice, had drawn female curiosity, already suspicious of the circumstances, to the keyhole of the parlour-door, where the issue and object of the conference soon became known. In a short time it had gone among the servants, and from them was transmitted in the course of

that and the following day, to the tenants and day-labourers; who contrived to multiply it with such effect, that, as Curtis said, it was indeed no secret to the greater part of the parish. Flanagan soon rejoined Connor, who, on taxing him with his flight, was informed, with an appearance of much regret, that a debt of old standing due to Curtis had occasioned it.

"And upon my saunies, Connor, I'd rather any time go up to my neck in wather than meet a man that I owe money to, whin I can't pay him. I knew Phil very well, even before he spoke, and that was what made me cut an' run."

"What!" said Connor, looking towards the east, "can it be day-light so soon ?"

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Begad it surely cannot," replied his companion. "Holy mother above, what is this?"

Both involuntarily stood to contemplate the strange phenomenon which presented itself to their observation; and, as it was certainly both novel and startling in its appearance, we shall pause a little to describe it more minutely.

The night, as we have already said, was remarkably dark, and warm to an unusual degree. To the astonishment, however, of our two travellers, a gleam of light, extremely faint, and somewhat resembling that which precedes the rising of a summer sun, broke upon their path, and passed on in undulating sweeps for a considerable space before them. Connor had scarcely time to utter the exclamation just alluded to, and Flanagan to reply to him, when the light around them shot farther into the distance, and deepened from its first pale hue into a rich and gorgeous purple. Its effect, however, was limited within a circle of about a mile, for they could observe that it got faint gradually from the centre to the extreme verge, where it melted into utter darkness.

"This must mean something extraordinary," said Connor; "whatever it is, it appears to be behind the hill that divides us from Bodagh Buie's house. Blessed earth! it looks as if the sky was on fire!"

The sky indeed presented a fearful but sublime spectacle. One spot appeared to glow with the red-white heat of a furnace, and to form the centre of a fiery cupola, from which the flame was flung in redder and grosser masses, that darkened away into wild

and dusky indistinctness, in a manner that corresponded with the same light, as it danced in red and frightful mirth upon the earth. As they looked, the cause of this awful phenomenon soon became visible. From behind the hill was seen a thick shower of burning particles rushing up into the mid air, and presently the broad point of a huge pyramid of fire, wavering in terrible and capricious power, seemed to disport itself far up in the very depths of the glowing sky. On looking again upon the earth they perceived that this terrible circle was extending itself over a wider circumference of country, marking every prominent object around them with a dark blood-red tinge, and throwing those that were more remote into a visionary but appalling relief.

"Dhar Chriestha," exclaimed Flanagan, "I have it; thim I spoke about has paid Bodagh Buie the visit they promised him."

"Come round the hip o' the hill,” said Connor, "'till we see where it really is; but I'll tell you what, Bartle, if you be right, woe betide you; all the water in Europe would n't wash you free in my mind, of being connected in this same Ribbon business that's spread through the country. As sure as that sky-that fearful sky's-above us, you must prove to me an' others, how you came to know that this hellish business was to take place. God of heaven! let us run-surely it could n't be the dwelling-house!"

His speed was so great that Bartle could find neither breath nor leisure to make any reply.

“Thank God," he exclaimed; oh, thank God it's not the house, and their lives are safe; but, blessed Father, there's the man's whole haggard in flames."

"Oh, the netarnal villains!" was the simple exclamation of Flanagan.

Bartle," said his companion, "you heard what I said this minute?"

Their eyes met as he spoke, and for the first time O'Donovan was struck by the pallid malignity of his features. The servant gazed steadily upon him. his lips slightly but firmly drawn back, and his eye, in which was neither sympathy nor alarm, charged with the spirit of a cool and devilish triumpb.

Connor's blazed at the bare idea of his villany, and, in a fit of manly and indignant rage, he seized Flanagan and hurled him headlong to the earth at his feet.

"You have hell in your face,

you villain," he exclaimed; "and if I thought that-if I did—I'd drag you down like a dog, an' pitch you headforemost into the flames!"

Bartle rose, and in a voice wonderfully calin, simply observed, "God knows, Connor, if I know either your heart or mine, you'll be sorry for this tratement you've given me for no ra son. You know yourself that, as soon as I heard anything of the ill-will aginst ti e Bodagh, I tould it to you, in ordher-mark that—in ordher that you might let him know it the best way you thought proper, an' for that you've knocked me down!"

Think no more of it-think no more of it-I'm not often hasty, so you must overlook it."

It was, however, with an anxious and distressed heart that Connor O'Donovan reached his father's barn, where, in the same bed with Flanagan, he enjoyed towards morning a brief and broken slumber that brought back to his fancy images of blood and fire, all so confusedly mingled with Una, himself, and their parents, that the voice of his father, calling upon them to rise, came to him as a welcome and manifest relief.

At the time laid in this story, neither burnings nor murders were so familiar nor patriotic, as the fancied necessity for working out political purposes has recently made them. Such atrocities, in those bad and unreformed days, were certainly looked upon as criminal, rather than meritorious, however unpatriotic it may have VOL. IX.

been to form so erroneous an estimate of human villainy. The consequence of all this was, that the destruction of Bodagh Buie's property created a sensation in the county, of which, familiarized as we are to such crimes, we can entertain but a very faint notion. In three days a reward of five hundred pounds, exclusive of two hundred from government, was offered for such information as might bring the incendiary, or incendiaries, to justice. The Bodagh and his family were stunned as much with amazement at the occurrence of a calamity so incomprehensible to them, as with the loss they had sustained, for that indeed was heavy. The man was extremely popular, and by many acts of kindness had won the attachment and good-will of all who knew him, either personally or by character. How then account for an act so wanton and vindictive? They could not understand it; it was not only a crime, but a crime connected with some mysterious motive, beyond their power to detect.

But of all who became acquainted with the outrage, not one sympathized more sincerely and deeply with O'Brien's family than did Connor O'Donovan; although of course that sympathy was unknown to those for whom it was felt. The fact was, that his own happiness became in some degree involved in their calamity; and, as he came in to breakfast on the fourth morning after its occurrence, he could not help observing as much to his mother. His suspicions of Flanagan, as to possessing some clue to the melancholy business, were by no means removed. On the contrary, he felt that he ought to have him brought before the bench of magistrates who were conducting the investigation from day to day, and, with this determination, he himself resolved to state fully and candidly to the bench, all the hints which had transpired from Flanagan respecting the denunciations said to be held out against O'Brien, and the causes assigned for them. Breakfast was now ready, and Fardorougha himself entered, uttering petulant charges of neglect and idleness against his servant.

"He desarves no breakfast," said he; "not a morsel; it's robbing me by his idleness and schaming he is. What is he doin', Connor? or what has become of him? He's not in the field nor about the place." Connor paused.

2 &

Why, now that I think of it, I did n't see him today," he replied; "I thought he was mendin' the slap at the Three-Acres. I'll thry if he's in the barn."

And he went accordingly to find him. "I'm afraid, father," said he, on his return, "that Bartle's a bad boy, an' a dangerous one; he's not in the barn, an' it appears, from the bed, that he did n't sleep there last night. The thruth is, he's gone; at laste he has brought all his clothes, his box, an' everything with him; an' what's more, I suspect the rason of it; he thinks he has let out too much to me; an' dhar ma chorp, it 'ill go hard but I'll make him let out more."

The servant-maid, Biddy, now entered and informed them that four men,

evidently strangers, were approaching the house from the rear, and ere she could add anything further on the subject, two of them walked in, and seizing Connor informed him that he was their prisoner.

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"Your prisoner!" exclaimed his mother, getting pale; "why what could our poor boy do to make him your prisoner? He never did hurt or harm to the child unborn."

Fardorougha's keen grey eye rested sharply upon them for a moment; it then turned to Honour, afterwards to Connor, and again gleamed bitterly at the intruders What is this," said he, starting up; "what is this? you don't

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My name is Connor O'Donovan ; an' I know no rason why I should deny it."

"Then you are the very man we came for," said the querist, "so you had better prepare to accompany us; in the mean time you must excuse us if we search your room. This is unpleasant, I grant, but we have no discretion, and must perform our duty."

"What do you want in this room?" said Fardorougha; "it's robbery you're on for it's robbery you're on for-in open day-light, too; but you're late; I lodged the last penny yestherday; that's one comfort; you're late--you're

late."

"What did my boy do," exclaimed the affrighted mother; 66 what did he do that you come to drag him away from us?”

This question she put to the other constable, the first having entered her son's bed-room.

'I am afraid, ma'am, you'll know it too soon," replied the man; "it's a heavy charge, if it proves to be true."

As he spoke, his companion re-entered the apartment, with Connor's Sunday coat in his hand, from the pocket of which he drew a steel and tinderbox.

"I'm sorry for this," he observed; "it corroborates what has been sworn against you by your accomplice, and here I fear comes additional proof."

At the same moment the other two

made their appearance, one of them holding in his hand the shoes which Connor had lent to Flanagan, and which he wore on the night of the conflagration.

On seeing this, and comparing the two circumstances together, a fearful light broke on the unfortunate young man, who had already felt conscious of the snare into which he had fallen. With an air of sorrow and manly resignation he thus addressed his parents :

Don't be alarmed; I see that there is an attempt made to swear away my life; but, whatever happens, you

both know that I am innocent of doin' an injury to any one. If I die, I would rather die innocent than live as guilty as he will that must have my blood to answer for."

His mother, on hearing this, ran to him, and with her arms about his neck, exclaimed,

"Die! die! Connor darlin'-my brave boy-my only son-why do you talk about death? what is it for? what is it about? Oh, for the love of God, tell us what did our boy do?"

"He is charged by Bartle Flanagan," replied one of the constables, "with burning Bodagh Buie O'Brien's haggard, because he refused him his daughter. He must now come with

us to gaol."

"I see the whole plot," said Connor, "and a deep one it is; the villain will do his worst; still I can't but have dependance upon justice and my own innocence. I can't but have dependance upon God, who knows my heart."

THE kingdom of Norway and its inhabitants have long been objects of considerable interest to us; and, to judge by the number of works that have been published concerning them within the last few years, we are far from being singular in our feelings in this respect. Nor is it at all strange, that such should be the case, as the subject is one which claims attention on many accounts. Independently of the attractions the country itself presents, as well to the student of natural history in its various departments, as to the admirer of sublime and romantic scenery, the political philosopher may there behold the spectacle of a free and happy people, living " under ancient laws and social arrangements totally different in principle from those which regulate society and property in the feudally constituted countries;" while we must all feel desirous to be acquainted with as many particulars as possible respecting a nation whose inhabitants formerly played such a conspicuous part in the history of the British Isles. For, it must be kept in mind that, though the name of Danes is more familiar to the ears of both English and Irish, as connected with the early invasions alluded to, the inhabitants of Norway constituted a considerable portion of the people so designated, forming with them and the Swedes the body more properly styled Northmen; and that the Normans, the subsequent invaders, were themselves derived directly from the same stock. Again, the philologist finds a most useful and attractive subject of investigation in the ancient language of Norway, which has had more influence on our own, than is generally

supposed; while the records which still exist in it surpass in interest, authenticity, and extent, those of any other European nation of the same period. The value of these records, as illustrative of our own history, and corroborative or corrective of our own annals, is now beginning to be more generally felt; and we are happy to find that the Royal Northern Antiquarian Society (of Copenhagen) is about to publish under the title of Antiquitates Britannicæ et Hibernicæ, a work which is to contain all the Sagas or parts of Sagas relating to Great Britain and Ireland, and which, being accompanied by a Latin translation, and illustrated with notes and maps, will be generally accessible to the learned.

A remarkable instance of this illustration of our annals by the Northern may here be adduced. Every one is familiar with that spirited ode of Gray's, entitled "The Fatal Sisters," paraphrased from a poem quoted by Torfæus and Bartholinus from the Niala Saga; and there is no one who has not heard of the Battle of Clontarf; and yet how few are aware that the battle predicted in that poem is no other than this very battle! We do not of course mean to say that the legend of the vision of the inhabitant of Caithness is not fabulous; but it does not therefore follow that the event to which it refers is fabulous also; on the contrary, the very introduction of this supernatural machinery proves the strong impression which an actual occurrence made on the minds of those living at the time. The real historical fact we learn from the Saga is, that the invaders with whom the Irish then

men.

On