distant, intending after he had explored the cliffs, to follow along the beach on foot.

He descended the crags, and got to the beach, when turning round a huge rock, he perceived an elderly gentleman, with a young lady, advancing along a sandy portion of the shore towards him. Not wishing to be seen, and, at the same time, struck with the appearance of the lady, he concealed himself in such a manner, that he had a fair view of them, without being himself noticed. They advanced slowly until they came to the bottom of the rock where he was stationed, when all at once they disappeared; but not until they were so near, that he heard the lady utter the following exclamation: "Oh father, what miseries are in store for thousands!" and, immediately he was startled with a sound, as if part of the cliff on which he reclined had broken off. Full of astonishment, he got down to the bottom of the rock, but could perceive no traces of the persons, who had just the moment before excited so much of his attention. Their sudden disappearance was to him quite unaccountable, unless he should suppose, that they had found admission into some cavity within the rock. He viewed it at every accessible point, and minutely examined every fracture and crevice, in the hope of discovering some concealed entrance, but in vain. He imagined, however, that he heard, as from a distance, the sounds of footsteps and voices; but they soon died away, and left nothing audible, but the screaming of the sea-fowl, and the dashing of the waves upon the shore.

Edward, however, determined to remain near the spot until night, in hopes that something might take place that would lead to an explanation of the mystery. For this purpose, he chose a recess on a level with the beach, under an over-arching ledge of the precipice, by which he conceived the fair vision, and her companion, if they were really mortal, must return, as he knew that there was no passing by the way he came, unless by clambering up the rocks, a task which would be almost impracticable for the lady.

Having a small volume of Dryden's Virgil in his pocket, the loves of Æneas and Dido, soon engrossed his attention, and the time unheedingly stole away, until the shades of twilight aroused

him from his situation. The tide, which had been advancing all the time, now rolled at his feet, and rendered it impossible for him to retreat from his recess without the greatest danger. He was a good swimmer, but the shore was unknown to him, so that he could not tell how far he might be from any spot, where it` would be possible to land. To stay where he was, was evident destruction. The tide encroached rapidly upon him, and he had no alternative but to encounter the wave. He, accordingly, plunged in, and endeavoured to gain the mysterious rock, for the purpose of escaping by the way he came. A current of water, however, that issued, now that the tide was so far advanced, between that and another rock farther out in the sea, rendered his efforts unavailing, and becoming exhausted, he expected nothing but immediate dissolution. In this situation, he heard a scream, and immediately a loud voice calling, "Swim a little more to the right, and out to sea-I shall help you!" He obeyed, and got out of the influence of the current that had baffled him but was on the point of sinking with fatigue, when a powerful arm seized him, and dragged him to the shore in a state of insensibility.

When Edward recovered, he found himself in bed, in a small apartment belonging to a respectable farm house. The mys terious gentleman was employed rubbing his breast with warm spirits, while his fair companion sprinkled heartshorn drops over his brows and temples, and occasionally applied them to his nostrils. An elderly peasant woman was also busy rubbing his feet and legs with warm flannels.

"Oh, father! thank heaven! he breathes," were the first sounds heard by Edward, on his recovery. "God be praised! then all is well," was the reply. He lifted his head to look at his preservers, and to thank them, but his voice faultered, and he could only press the hand of the young lady, in token of gratitude. A lovely blush suffused her countenance, but she spoke not; while her father exhorted Edward to remain silent, as perhaps exertion, in his present exhausted state, might be attended with bad consequences. Edward obeyed, for his mind was so distracted with the hurry and variety of his reflections, and the strangeness and intensity of his emotions, that he knew

not what remarks to make, or if he knew them, he could not find suitable expressions to convey them. He was glad, therefore, to conceal his confusion in silence.

He was not long in this confused state of agitation, approaching almost to delirium, until a doctor, for whom the old gentleman had sent immediately on getting him ashore, arrived from Larne, the adjoining town. After extracting some blood, and administering a composing draught, he ordered the room to be kept quiet, so that the patient might have an opportunity in silence and repose, to recover from his fatigue and agitation; then giving a few other necessary directions, and assuring the by-standers, that all danger was over, he took his leave, promising to return the next morning. The old gentleman and his daughter, then wished Edward a good night, and retired.

Left to himself, he gave a range to his imagination, on the strange occurrences of the day. His fair attendant still seemed to bend over him, as she did when he first opened his eyes from his trance; and the fervour of his joyful exclamation, at his recovery, still seemed to reverberate in his ears. His exhaustion, however, and the influence of the medicine he had taken, soon interfered with these waking dreams, and he fell into a refreshing sleep, which continued till midnight. When he awoke he found that he had been attended by two decent-looking elderly people, a man and woman, who appeared to have been reading a newspaper. Not perceiving when he awoke, they continued the conversation which had been excited by the newspaper.

"An' they are raising a subscription for the benefit of Orr's family, an' I this day put my name down for half a guinea, for you know, my dear, that what is gi'en to the persecuted, in a guid cause, is never lost; besides, I would not let it be said, that William Caldwell, refused to help a man who was suffering for his country."

"Ah, my dear, you did weel to gie the mony, but I wish these things may come to a good end. There's sae mony sodgers in the country, and sae mony informers, and sae mony kingsmen, that I'm feared the poor United Irishmen will never do ony guid. Not but I wish God may bless the cause, for if they get leave to gae on, they will persecute and kill a great VOL. I.-No. I.

5

mony more of us, for no crime at all, as they did poor Murphy, an' the four militia men at Blarnmoor. But though I love Mr. O'Halloran, I wish he could not have persuaded you to join the United Irishmen, for I fear this work will bring trouble on us all."

"I could not help it. He argued that it was my duty; told me how poor Ireland was enslaved-an' when he mentioned the sufferings of Orr, an' the killing of Murphy and the militia men, I felt my blood get warm, and I tauld him, I would tak' the oath, let what like come o't!"

Here Edward not wishing longer to act the mean character of a listener, especially to such discourse, made a noise, as if he had just awoke from sleep. He asked what hour of the night it was. The woman told him; when having enquired how he felt, she requested permission to bring him some wine and toast, which she said the doctor had allowed him to take, as soon as he wished for refreshment. "The wine," she remarked, "must be very good, for it was sent from the castle by Mr. O'Halloran, God bless him, just of the kind he kept for his own use. Oh! Sir! how fortunate it was, that he and Miss Ellen were at the Point, when you were a drowning, otherwise you would hae been drowned altogether, for he jumped into the sea, and saved you, just when you were sinking the third and last time? And then, Miss Ellen, how she attended to you till you recovered! God bless her every day she rises, for she's as good as an angel, and as beautiful too.-But I was forbidden to speak owre muckle to you, for fear I should disturb you; but you look sae weel, that I'm thinking my talk doesn't hurt you."

Edward assured her that he was delighted with her communications, and begged to know whether Mr. O'Halloran lived far off, and whether he might not have an opportunity of thanking him the next day in person, for the important service he had rendered him?

"Oh! that you will," she replied, " for he lives only about a mile off, and I'm sure he will be here in the mornin', for he will not be easy till he sees himsel' that you are gaun to lieve an' be weel."

"And the young lady," said Edward, "does she live with him? Is she his daughter?"

"She is his grand-daughter; but he still calls her his own child, for since that jewel o' a woman, her mother, died, she is now all that he has."

"Jenet!" cried the husband, "you disturb the gentleman owre much wi' your cracks. You had better let him sleep. The doctor said sleep would be good for him. Come awa', we'll send Peggy to tend him."

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Aye, aye," said the wife, "Peggy is a tidy lass, an' winna mak' sitch a clatter as I hae done. Poor thing! she's amaist owre shy, to speak much. Guid night! or, rather guid mornin', sir, sleep sound, an' whatever you want just ask it frae Peggy, an' you'll get it at yince."

They both left the room, and Edward had just begun a train of reflections on the strange incidents of the preceding day, when the door gently opened, and a pretty modest-looking peasant girl, apparently about seventeen years of age, entered the apartment without noise. As Edward lay quiet, treading on tip-toe, she slowly approached the bed in order to ascertain if he were asleep. Presuming that he was, for he purposely feigned to be so, she was about retiring in the same slow and noiseless manner, when wishing to detain her, that he might get some more information concerning O'Halloran and his lovely grand-daughter, he asked, in a tone as if he had just awoke, if any one was there?

"Yes, sir," was the reply," my mother sent me to see if you wanted ony thing."

"My pretty girl, I want nothing but to enquire in whose house I am, and by what strange accident I have been brought here?" "The house is my father's, William Caldwell's, and you were brought here carried by Mr. O'Halloran, our landlord at the castle, quite dead, for he found ye drowning, in the sea, at the Point Rock."

"And are you acquainted, Miss Caldwell, with the young lady his grand-daughter?”

"With Miss Ellen? yes, I am sir, right well, for she has no pride at all. She sends for me often to walk with her from one