sake of reviving a custom becoming obsolete, repeated the dose, and drank each others' health.

At eight, I was up and out to take a morning stroll; at nine, returned to breakfast; and while at it, the servant announced that a messenger in breathless haste, desirous to save the first train, had brought me a note, which conveyed an invitation to go that day, along with all my friends, to visit the nursery at Ogle's Grove, near the magnificent mansion of the Marquis of Downshire, at Hillsboro'. Having read the multum in parvo epistle, I addressed myself to one of the ladies, in a tone audible to all, when "Yes" was the unanimous reply except from their father, whose modesty inclined him to remark, "I fear that if we all go, our number will appear rather formidable." When I counted our number, I found it was just five, and as a car would be requisite at Lisburn, I visited the sufferer with the tooth-ache, and wished that she would form one of the party. There was no hesitation, no insincere demurs to require pressing, no hems, haughs, regrets, and so forth, at the shortness of the notice: no, a compliance was at once given. "Where are you bound to-day?" inquired this amiable girl's stepfather.

"To Ogle's Grove nursery, near Hillsboro'," was the reply.

After some preparations, we walked to the railway, and went by the twelve o'clock train, and as the weather was delightfully fine, we enjoyed the trip. "That's the place," pointing to a gentleman's country seat, "where your sister, when she was here in the spring, and we, spent a day." The next moment, the train was brought to a stand still; when one of the railroad porters, in livery garb, with rod of office in hand, bawled lustily, "Dunmurry." Some passengers went out, others came in, and in a minute we were off till another stop took place at Lisburn, where the "outs" and "ins" were more numerous. Six of us here vacated our seats. Economy, to those whose finances are limited, is to be studied; but for the sake of humanity, why have not the railroad company seats for the accommodation of the passengers in the " open

train ?"

time occupied walking through the flower-garden, and shaking the pear-trees, having the proprietor's daughter as our Cicerone, who politely supplied us with fruit and gave us interesting descriptions of the dahlia and other magnificent flowers. Mr. Davis, the owner of this rural paradise, now relieved from his toilsome, yet tasteful labours, now came amongst us. I had the pleasure of introducing him to the visitors, whom he piloted to his ancient mansion built three centuries since, and for twelve generations inhabited by his ancestors.

"Pray, Mr. Davis," asked Miss Johnston, "is not this a dahlia of peculiar rarity?"

"Yes, it is a seedling, a dark crimson lined with purple; its habit is compact, its flower petals rounded, and the heart well up," he answered in the florist's language. "I have named it the beauty of Ogle's Grove."

66

"The day is advancing," remarked one of our company sotto voce, and I suppose it will be imagined we have come to dinner.'

This was spoken to and meant for myself, but it vibrated on the tympanum of Mr. Davis, who earnestly observed, "that such was his intention, and he would feel bitterly disappointed if it were not fulfilled." Not having an inclination to disoblige the invitor, and being grateful for the handsome terms in which the invitation was conveyed, at four dinner was supplied in a neat and comfortable manner, the purveyor apologizing for not being better prepared.

While at the repast I was feasting my eyes on the picturesque beauties visible north or south. View southerly, overhanging the house a majestic maple tree with its exuberant foliage, the feathered tribe hopping from branch to branch warbling their sweetest strains; and in an opposite direction were autumn flowers of every kind and complexion, for this was the 20th of September.

"You see your dinner," said the florist, wielding a knife, a "big one," while its colleague, for the sinister hand, was not of diminutive importance.

"Will you have some steak?" enquired the hostess, suiting the action to the word.

"Yes," said I, suiting the word to the action, Lisburn, the property of the Marquis of Hert- handing her my plate, telling her no secret that ford, is a fine town; there are many superior"a stake in the country was always acceptable." houses in it occupied as private dwellings. On the evening before, I heard a lady say that a friend of hers had a story about him, which, as it was of daily recollection, would continue for life. I was in the dark till the mystery was explained that the gentleman's house had "one story" added to it which makes it three stories high.

Let us proceed to Ogle's Grove. After driving a short distance on the line of road to Hillsboro', to save a short distance we branched into an avenuelike thoroughfare, which brought us on the banks of the Ulster canal. On this road, excellent by day, we jaunted for two miles, till we were ushered into the ancient mansion at Ogle's Grove. A domestic announced that his master was preparing some boxes of dahlias for a horticultural exhibition in Dublin the succeeding day, and begged us to enter the house, where he would be with us in a few minutes. The "few minutes" were by necessity extended to half-an-hour, and pleasantly was the

"Take a little mutton ?" asked the carver. A little mutton! I had heard of a "Vauxhall slice" and had partaken of it there, as thin as a wafer. A cut at Ogle's grove would outweigh a smoothing iron.

"Before dinner walk a mile,

And after it rest a while."

Adopting this precept, we rested a while discoursing on the fertility of the spot surrounding the place; one field in particular was worthy of commentary, which in July yielded a luxuriant crop of hay, and when it was removed to the haggard the field was ploughed afresh, an appropriate seed being sown presented a crop of turnips that promised in productiveness to realize the hopes of the enterprising cultivator. The fineness of the evening actuated the florist to recommend a removal to the verdant turf, where, on a rustic seat of

C

AN ENTHUSIAST'S INTERVIEW WITH A POET.

AN ENTHUSIAST'S INTERVIEW WITH

А РОЕТ.

BY ALICIA JANE SPARROW.

"The words of such a man are worth attending to." CARLYLE.

"And you have seen Lord Byron !" I exclaimed, delighted even to look on one who had looked on the great and gifted poet; "you have seen Lord Byron !" I exclaimed, as words to this import reached my ear from the lips of one of the most ardent admirers of genius I have ever had the good fortune to be in company with. "I knew him well," was the impressively uttered reply. The "when," and the "where," were rapidly inquired into by my ardent self; and pleased, perhaps, at meeting a kindred spirit in enthusiasm, my new acquaintance kindly entered into the particulars of an interview, which was too characteristic and too interesting to pass quickly from memory.

19

"Why, my Lord, it is almost presumptuous in me to make choice amongst them,' I answered; 'but if urged to do so, I should name the poem of "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers:" it suits my temperament best; your Lordship hits hard!'

"Ha, you judge!' he exclaimed, with animation; and something like civility became perceptible in his manner, as he added-Take a seat, sir.'

"I gladly availed myself of the offer, and drawing forth my letter of introduction, I said-'As your Lordship appeared in a reverie on my entrance, I did not take the liberty of interrupting it; but now will you permit me to hand you a letter from a particular friend of yours, and, I have the honour to say, of mine.'

"Who-who is it?' he inquired.
"Tom Moore.'

"Instantly he started from his chair, and springing
towards me, shook me cordially by the hand, and
eagerly seizing the letter, pressed it several times
with the utmost ardour to his lips, exclaiming-
Ah, Moore! my dear, dear Moore!' Then
turning to me, he rejoined: Why did not
(mentioning the gentleman who had admitted me)
tell me this? or, why did not you tell me at once
that you were a friend of Moore?'

66

"The poet," he commenced, "was at a villa at the Lago di Como, and I brought with me a letter of introduction from Moore. Two English gen- "I felt like one spell-bound, the change was so tlemen with whom I was slightly acquainted were rapid from the cold, arrogant, discourteous muser staying with his lordship, and, on the morning of to the cordial and warm-hearted friend. My my visit, I met them both just quitting the portico being the friend of his beloved Moore, seemed at on an excursion. When they understood my once a passport to his favour and regard. In half wishes, one of them courteously re-entered with an hour, I felt as if I had known him for years. me, and, conducting me into a small saloon, pre- He urged my stay with an importunity I could not sented me to Lord Byron, and again withdrew. resist, and in the society of this gifted and extraI was young that time (and the speaker passed his ordinary man, I passed one of the most agreeable hand over his now time-worn brow); I was young weeks of my life. At times he abandoned himself and ardent, and a passionate admirer of every to a reckless vivacity that was delightful to me, man, woman, youth, or maiden endowed with the after the haughty arrogance that marked our first 'celestial gift'-the art unteachable;' there-interview; flashes of gaiety streamed from those fore, with interest the most intense I gazed on Byron-the great, the famous Byron

'Who ope'd new fountains in the human heart.'

He sat by a table, in a thoughtful attitude, with his forehead resting on his hand, and occasionally sipping some hollands and water which stood beside him. On my entrance, he had slightly moved his head without rising, and he took no further notice of me, but left me standing beside him in the most uncomfortable position. I felt his discourtesy to the quick-the blood mounted to my very temples-but England's mightiest poet was before me, and I was an enthusiast! For once' I inwardly said, 'I will be a philosopher, and bear this indignity with patience, and see how it will end.' Seemingly lost in a fit of musing, he appeared, or affected to appear, wholly unconscious of my presence for the space of, at least, fifteen minutes. At length he suddenly looked up, and abruptly asked

"Have you read all my works, sir?'

"I do not think one of them has escaped me,' was my reply.

"Which of them do you prefer?' was his next interrogation.

lips which have been pronounced lips of scorn, and methinks I hear even now the low ringing of his musical laugh. Alas! alas! and now that voice is still!" continued the speaker musingly: "that face so full of mind, is wrapped in dust, and upon that glorious brow the worm has long since made its feast! Oh! would that he had lived to verify the speculations of him, who has sweetly said

'If years had brought

A blessed store of brighter thought,
How much of all that mars his fame
Had vanished in a purer aim.'"

ANSWER TO ENIGMA

In our last.

P-R-I-M-R-O-S-E.

DISOBEDIENCE.

BY ELIZABETH YOUATT.

"They're all gone-my loved—my own!
With swelling heart and swimming eye,
In our old home, I sit alone,

And call them-but there's no reply."
MISS H. F. GOULD.

the maiden returned, alone, looking thoughtful, and almost sad.

"You are late," said the old man sternly. "Yes, father."

"This should not be, Rhoda, for you are far from strong. Your poor mother died of consumption, and at times your strange resemblance to her makes me tremble."

"If it makes you love me for her sake, I care for little else," said the girl gently.

66

Silly child! Are you not everything to me now?"

It was on a summer evening when a young man might have been seen walking with a kindling eye and flushed brow, the frown upon which deepened every moment, backwards and forwards before a neat rose-covered cottage, its high wall sheltering him from the observation of those within," until the door opened at length, and a maiden appeared, whose bright glance won a smile even from him, tired and impatient as he was: but his ill-humour soon returned.

"This cannot last, Rhoda," said he, "you must feel that it cannot. I will never consent to come prowling after you like a thief! You must either become mine, as you have so often promised, or give me up for ever."

"That is," replied the girl sadly, "I must make up my mind which of the only two beings in the world whom I have to love me will be the least missed, my father or you. Oh! William, it is much better to wait but a little longer things may change-he is growing very old and I am his only child."

"No, no," exclaimed her lover impatiently, "I have waited time enough; I must have your answer this night!"

"Must!" repeated the maiden haughtily. "Ay, even so. Hear me, Rhoda; did I marry you for the little fortune which they say will one day be yours, I might, indeed, fear to brave the old man's wrath, lest in his anger he should bestow it on another. But I court only thyself, my long-plighted bride. And yet for your sake, and for fear it should grieve you to think on it afterwards, I would not urge you to this step, were I not sure he would forgive it, for you have often boasted to me of the power you had over

him in his sternest moods."

"Heaven forgive me then, for it was very wrong. And yet, I do believe he loves me too much to be long angry, for somehow in the end he always comes round to my way of thinking; but how much better to wait until that time arrives-until of his own accord he places my hand in yours; and tells you in his kindest voice, that a good and dutiful daughter is sure to make a good wife. How often I have dreamt that it was thus."

"And I fear that it is only in dreams that it will ever come to pass," replied William Dormer, "but it needs neither his voice nor any one's else to tell me of thy virtues, Rhoda."

They walked on, beguiled either by the beauty of the evening or their own earnest conversation, and the shades of night had begun to fall before

Rhoda kissed him fondly.

"The neighbours say," continued the old man, after a pause, "that I am stern and harsh, so that I have but few friends among them; but I have never been so to you-have I, Rhoda, darling?"? "Only in one thing, my father," said the girl, and then I do not think that in your heart you meant half you said against poor William Dormer;" and here she paused suddenly, while a dark frown gathered upon the withered brow of her companion.

"I understand all now," said Mr. Pemberton, for that was the old man's name; "he has been with you to night?"

Rhoda could not deny it.

"Be it so; but remember that the wife of William Dormer is no daughter of mine. I have sworn it! My curse rest upon his head, and that of all connected with him!"

There was a passionless solemnity in the tone with which this sentence was uttered, which awed Rhoda far more than the words themselves, but did not silence her, for she had her father's spirit.

"You must have some powerful reason to make you act thus?"

"I have: his mother was my first love; and now the son too, would steal away my last treasure, and ill-use and break her heart, aз his father did hers who is now an angel in heaven. Hush! not a word more-I will not hear it-unless it be to swear to me, you will never behold him again.

Poor Rhoda sat down and leant her throbbing temples upon her hands, while a dreary silence ensued, which was broken at length by Mr. Pemberton.

"Rhoda," said he fondly, "do not let us quarrel about him, my child. Forgive me if I spoke harshly to you just now, and let the subject be no more mentioned between us."

And so all their conversation upon this topic ever ended, although the old man was frequently so violent, that it made her shudder to listen to his threats and imprecations; but then she knew how passionate he was, and how soon the fit passed over, and relied perhaps too much upon his almost childish affection for herself, and so the summer wore away. One day Rhoda Pemberton was seen to leave the cottage early on a sunny morning, in her neat white dress and straw bonnet, and return a few hours afterwards, as she had often done before, with young Dormer; but there was no lingering farewell uttered beneath the shadow of the high wall; no parting protracted so long, that the girl in the opposite cottage grew weary of looking out to see if he were gone, and