she was very fond of the boy 'till she found that I liked him; and then, my jewil, she turned like sour milk all in a minute I'm afraid even the priest 'ill get no good of her."

66

"Father, dear father," said Norah, suppose ye were to say nothing about it, good or bad, and just pretend to take a sudden dislike to Morris, and let the priest speak to her himself, she'd come round."

"Out of opposition to me, eh?" "Yes."

"And let her gain the day, then?-that would be cowardly," replied the farmer, drawing himself up-" No, I won't."

"Father, dear, you don't understand," said the cunning lass. "Sure, ye're for Morris; and when we arethat is, if I mean-suppose-father, you know what I mean," she continued, and luckily the deepening twilight concealed her blushes,—“ if that took place, its you that would have ye'r own way."

"True for ye, Norry, my girl, true for ye; I never thought of that before!" And, pleased with the idea of tricking his wife, the old man fairly capered for joy. "But stay a while-stay, asy, asy," he recommenced; "how am I to manage? Sure, the priest himself will be here to-morrow morning early, and he's out upon a station now; so there's no speaking with him;-he's no way quick, either-we'll be bothered entirely, if he comes in on a suddent."

"Leave it to me, dear father-leave it all to me," exclaimed the animated girl—“ only pluck up a spirit, and whenever Morris's name is mentioned, abuse him-but not with all ye'r heart, father-only from the teeth out." When they re-entered, the fresh-boiled potatoes sent a warm curling steam to the very rafters of the lofty kitchen; they were poured out into a large wicker kish, and on the top of the pile rested a plate of coarse white salt; noggins of butter-milk were filled on the dresser, and on a small round table a cloth was spread, and some delf plates awaited the more delicate repast which the farmer's wife was herself preparing.

"What's for supper, mother?" enquired Norah, as she drew her wheel towards her, and employed her fairy foot in whirling it round.

"Plaguy snipeens," she replied, "bits o' bog chickens, that you've always such a fancy for—Barney Leary kilt them himself."

"So I did," said Barney, grinning," and that stick wid a hook of Morris Donovan's, the finest thing in the world for knocking 'em down."

"If Morris Donovan's stick touched them they sha'nt come here," said the farmer, striking the poor little table such a blow with his clenched hand as made not only it, but Mrs Clary, jump.

"And why so, pray?" asked the dame.

"Because nothing belonging to Morris, let alone Morris himself, shall come into the house," replied Clary; "he's not to my liking, any how, and there's no good in his bothering here after what he won't get."

"Excellent!" thought Norah.

"Lord save us!" ejaculated Mrs Clary, as she placed the grilled snipes on the table, "what's come to the man?" Without heeding his resolution, she was proceeding to distribute the savoury "birdeens," when, to her astonishment, her usually tame husband threw dish and its contents into the flames; the good woman absolutely stood for a moment aghast. The calm, however, was not of long duration. She soon rallied, and with blazing face and fiery tongue, thus commenced hostilities: "How dare ye, ye spalpeen, throw away any of God's mate, after that fashion, and I to the fore? What do you mane, I say?" "I mane, that nothing touched by Morris Donovan shall come under this roof; and if I catch that girl of mine looking, at the same time, the road he walks on, by the powers! I'll tear the eyes out of her head, and send her to a nunnery!"

"You will! And you dare to say that to my face, to a child o' mine! You will-will ye?-we'll see, my boy! I'll tell ye what, if I like, Morris Donovan shall come into this house, and, what's more, be master of this house; and that's what you never had the heart to be yet, ye poor ould snail!" So saying, Mistress Clary endeavoured to rescue from the fire the hissing remains of the poor snipes. Norah attempted to assist her mother, but Clary, lifting her up somewhat after: the fashion of an eagle raising a golden wren with its claw, fairly put her out of the kitchen. This was the signal for fresh hostilities. Mrs Clary stormed and stamped; and Mr Clary persisted in abusing, not only Morris, but Morris's uncle, Father Donovan, until at last the farmer's helpmate swore, ay, and roundly too, by cross and saint, that before the next sunset, Norah Clary should be Norah Donovan. I wish you could have seen Norry's eye, dancing with joy and exultation, as it peeped through the latch-hole ;-it sparkled more brightly than the richest diamond in our monarch's crown, for it was filled with hope and love.

The next morning was clear and frosty, long slender icicles hung from the branches of the wild hawthorn and holly, and even under the light footsteps of Norah, the glazed herbage crackled like feathery glass. The mountain-rill murmured under a frost-bound covering; and the poor sheep, in their warm fleeces, gazed mournfully on the landscape, beautiful as it was in the healthy morning light, for neither on hill or dale could they discover a mouthful of grass. The chill December breeze rushed unheeded over the glowing cheek of Norah Clary, for her "wise thought" had prospered, and she was hastening to the trysting-tree, where," by chance," either morning or evening, she generally met Morris Donovan. I don't know how it is, but the moment that the course of true love runs smooth, it becomes very uninteresting, except to the parties concerned. So it is now only left for me to say, that the maiden, after a due and proper time consumed in teazing and tantalizing her intended, (a practice, by the way, which I strongly recommend as the best mode of discovering the temper, &c. of the gentleman,) told him her saucy plan and its result. And the lover hastened upon the wings of love (which I beg my Scotch readers clearly to understand, are swifter and stronger in Ireland, than in any other country) to apprize the priest of the arrangement, well knowing that his reverence loved his nephew and niece that was to be (to say nothing of the wedding supper, and the profits arising therefrom) too well, not to aid their merry jest.

What bustle, what preparation, what feasting, what dancing, gave the country folk enough to talk about, during the happy Christmas holidays, I cannot now describe. The bride, of course, looked lovely and sheepish; and the bridegroom But, pshaw! bridegrooms are always uninteresting. One fact, however, is worth recording. When Father Donovan concluded the ceremony, before the bridal kiss had passed, Farmer Clary, without any reason that his wife could discover, most indecorously sprang up, seized a shillela of stout oak, and whirling it rapidly over his head, shouted, "Carry me out! by the powers she's bet! we've won the day!Ould Ireland for ever! Success, boys! she's bet-she's bet !"-The priest, too, seemed vastly to enjoy this extemporaneous effusion, and even the bride laughed outright. Whether the goodwife discovered the plot or no, I never heard; but of this I am certain, that the joyous Norah never had reason to repent her " Wise Thought," London, December the 16th, 1829.

AN INCANTATION SCENE.-A POEM, HITHERTO
UNPUBLISHED,

By Percy Byshe Shelley.

THE charm begins, an ancient book
Of mystic characters she took ;

THE STRANGER.

A TALE FOUNDED ON FACT.

By Henry G. Bell.

"In nobil sangue vita umile e queta,
Ed in alto intelletto un puro core;
Frutto senile in sul giovenil fiore,
E in aspetto pensoso anima lieta."

PETRARCH.

In sta

had caused a sensation among the good people of Hodnet, for he was not the kind of person whom one meets with every day. There was something both in his face and figure that distinguished him from the crowd. You could not look upon him once, and then turn away with indifference. His features arrested your attention, and commanded your admiration. His high Roman nose, his noble brow, his almost feminine lips, and beautifully regular teeth, his pale but not delicate cheek, his profuHODNET is a village in Shropshire. Like all other sion of dark and curling hair, his black bright eyes, whose villages in Shropshire, or anywhere else, it consists prin- glance, without being keen, was intense,-all, taken tocipally of one long street, with a good number of detach-gether, produced an effect which might have excited ated houses scattered here and there in its vicinity. The tention on a wider stage than that of Hodnet. street is on a slight declivity, on the sunny side of what ture he was considerably above the middle height; and in England they call a hill. It contains the shops of there was a something in his air which they who were three butchers, five grocers, two bakers, and one apothe- not accustomed to it did not understand, and which some cary. On the right hand, as you go south, is that very called grace, others dignity, and others hauteur. When excellent inn, the Blue Boar; and on the left, nearly op- the service was over, our hero walked out alone, and shut posite, is the public hall, in which all sorts of meetings himself up for the rest of the day in his parlour at the are held, and which is alternately converted into a dan- Blue Boar. But speculation was busily at work, and cing-school, a theatre, a Methodist chapel, a ball-room, at more than one tea-table that evening in Hodnet, con an auction-room, an exhibition-room, or any other kind jectures were poured out with the tea, and swallowed of room that may be wanted. The church is a little far- with the toast. ther off, and the parsonage is, as usual, a white house A few days elapsed, and the stranger was almost førsurrounded with trees, at one end of the village. Hod-gotten; for there was to be a subscription assembly in net is, moreover, the market-town of the shire, and stands in rather a populous district; so that, though of small dimensions itself, it is the rallying place, on any extraordinary occasion, of a pretty numerous population. One evening in February, the mail from London stop-liners since the days of Ariadne, the first milliner of ped at the Blue Boar, and a gentleman wrapped in a travelling cloak came out. The guard handed him a small portmanteau, and the mail drove on. The stranger entered the inn, was shown into a parlour, and desired that the landlord and a bottle of wine should be sent to him. The order was speedily obeyed; the wine was set upon the table, and Gilbert Cherryripe himself was the person who set it there. Gilbert next proceeded to rouse the slumbering fire, remarking, with a sort of comfortable look and tone, that it was a cold, raw night. His guest assented with a nod.

Hodnet, which engrossed entirely the minds of men. It was one of the most important events that had happen ed for at least a century. Such doings had never been known before. There was never such a demand for mil

whom history speaks. Needles worked unremittingly from morning to night, and from night to morning. Fiddles were scraped on in private, and steps danced before looking-glasses. All the preparations which Captain Parry made for going to the North Pole, were a mere joke to the preparations made by those who intended to go to the Hodnet assembly. At length the great, the important night arrived, "big with the fate" of many a rustic belle. The three professional fiddlers of the village were elevated on a table at one end of the hall, and every body pronounced it the very model of an orchestra. The candles (neither the oil nor the coal gas company had as yet penetrated so far as Hodnet) were tastefully arranged, and re

"You call this village Hodnet, do you not?" said he, enquiringly. "Yes, sir, this is the town of Hodnet." (Mr Cherry-gularly snuffed. The floor was admirably chalked by a ripe did not like the term " village.") "And a prettier little place is not to be found in England."

"So I have heard; and as you are not upon any of the great roads, I believe you have the reputation of being a primitive and unsophisticated race.'

"

"Privitive and sofisticated, did you say, sir? Why, as to that, I cannot exactly speak; but if there is no harm in it, I daresay we are. But you see, sir, I am a vintner, and don't trouble my head much about these matters."

"So much the better," said the stranger, smiling. "You and I shall become better friends; I may stay with you for some weeks, perhaps months. In the meantime get me something comfortable for supper, and desire your wife to look after my bedroom."

Mr Cherryripe made one of his profoundest bows, and descended to the kitchen, inspired with the deepest respect for his unexpected guest.

Next day was Sunday. The bells of the village church had just finished ringing, when the stranger walked up the aisle, and entered, as if at random, a pew which happened to be vacant. Instantly every eye was turned towards him, for a new face was too important an object in Hodnet to be left unnoticed." Who is he?" "When did he come?" "With whom does he stay?" "How long will he be here ?" "How old may he be?" "Do you think he is handsome ?" These and a thousand other questions flew about in whispers from tongue to tongue, whilst the unconscious object of all this interest cast his Pas calmly, and yet penetratingly, over the congregation. it altogether to be wondered that his appearance

travelling sign-painter, engaged for the purpose; and the refreshments in an adjoining room, consisting of negus, apples, oranges, cold roast-beef, porter, and biscuits, were under the immediate superintendence of our very excel lent friend, Mr Gilbert Cherryripe. At nine o'clock, which was considered a fashionable hour, the hall was nearly full, and the first country dance (quadrilles had not as yet poisoned the peace, and stirred up all the bad passions, of Hodnet) was commenced by the eldest son and presumptive heir of old Squire Thoroughbred, who conducted gracefully through its mazes the chosen divinity of his heart, Miss Wilhelmina Bouncer, only daughter of Tobias Bouncer, Esq. justice of peace in the coun ty of Shropshire.

Enjoyment was at its height, and the three professional fiddlers had put a spirit of life into all things, when suddenly one might perceive that the merriment was for a moment checked, whilst a more than usual bustle pervaded the room. The stranger had entered it; and there was something so different in his looks and manner from those of any of the other male creatures, that every body surveyed him with renewed curiosity, which was at first slightly tinctured with awe. "Who can he be?" was the question that instantaneously started up like a crocus in many a throbbing bosom. "He knows nobody, and nobody knows him; surely he will never think of asking any body to dance."-" Dance!" said Miss Coffin, the apothecary's daughter, “ I wonder who would dance with him?-a being whom we know no more about than we do of the man in the moon. Papa says he looks for all the world like a quack doctor."-" I rather suspect,"

said Miss Bluebite, a starch spinster of fifty, who was considered the Madame de Stael of the village" I rather suspect that he is an Irish fortune-hunter, come for the express purpose of running away with some of us. We ought to be upon our guard, I assure you." Miss Bluebite was said to have property to the amount of L.70 per annum, and, no doubt, concluded that she was herself the leading object of the adventurer's machinations. Had it been so, he must have been a bold adventurer indeed.

For a long time the stranger stood aloof from the dancers in a corner by himself, and people were almost beginning to forget his presence. But he was not idle; he was observing attentively every group, and every individual, that passed before him. Judging by the various expressions that came over his countenance, one would have thought that he could read character at a single glance-that his perceptions were similar to intuitions. Truth obliges me to confess, that it was not with a very favourable eye he regarded the greater majority of the inhabitants of Hodnet and its neighbourhood. Probably they did not exactly come up to his expectations; but what these expectations were, it is difficult to conceive.

At length, however, something like a change seemed to come over the spirit of his dreams. His eye fell on Emily Sommers, and appeared to rest where it fell with no small degree of pleasure. No wonder; Emily was not what is generally styled beautiful; but there was a sweetness, a modesty, a gentleness about her, that charmed the more the longer it was observed. She was the only child of a widowed mother. Her father had died many a year ago in battle; and the pension of an officer's widow was all the fortune he had left them. But nature had bestowed riches of a more valuable kind than those which fortune had denied. I wish I could describe Emily Sommers; but I shall not attempt it. She was one of those whose virtues are hid from the blaze of the world, only to be the more appreciated by those who can understand them. She was one of those who are seldom missed in the hour of festive gaiety, who pass unobserved in the midst of glare and bustle, and whose names are but rarely heard beyond the limits of their own immediate circle. But mingle with that circle; leave the busy world behind you, and enter within its circumscribed and domestic sphere, and then you will discover the value of a being like to her of whom I speak. Without her, the winter fireside, or the summer-evening walk, is destitute of pleasure. Her winning smiles, her unclouded temper, her affectionate gentleness, must throw their hallowed influence over the scenes where her spirit presides, unconscious of its power, else they become uninteresting and desolate. I have said that she is not missed in the hour of festive gaiety; but when she is at length removed from among us, when the place that knew her knows her no more, she leaves

"A void and silent place in some sweet home," and a "long-remembered grief" throws its shadowy gloom over a few fond hearts.

It was the custom in Hodnet for the gentlemen to employ the morning of the succeeding day in paying their respects to the ladies with whom they had danced on the previous evening. At these visits all the remarkable events of the ball were of course talked over. Criticisms were made upon the different dresses; commentaries were offered on the various modes of dancing; doubts were suggested regarding the beauty of Miss A- ; suspicions were hinted as to the gentility of Miss B; Mr C was severely blamed for dancing thrice with Miss Dmutual enquiries were made concerning the odd-looking man, who introduced himself so boldly to Mrs and Miss Sommers, and who was reported even to have seen them home, or at least to have left the assembly along with them. We make no doubt that all this chit-chat was very interesting to the parties engaged in it; but as we have not the talents either of a Richardson or a Boswell, we shall not attempt to enter into its details, especially as our attention is more particularly devoted to the "odd-looking man" already spoken of.

It is most true that he did leave the public hall of Hodnet with Mrs and Miss Sommers, and true that he escorted them home. Nay, it is also true that he won so much upon their favour, that, on his requesting permission to wait upon them next day, it was without much difficulty obtained. This was surely very imprudent in Mrs Sommers, and every body said it was very imprudent. "What! admit as a visitor in her family a person whom she had never seen in her life before, and who, for any thing she knew, might be a swindler or a Jew! There was never any thing so preposterous;-a woman, too, of Mrs Sommers's judgment and propriety! It was very very strange.' But whether it was very strange or not, the fact is, that the stranger soon spent most of his time at Violet Cottage; and what is, perhaps, no less wonderful, notwithstanding his apparent intimacy, he remained nearly as much a stranger to its inmates as ever. His name, they had ascertained, was Burleigh Frederick Burleigh, that he was probably upwards of eight-and-twenty, and that, if he had ever belonged to any profession, it must have been that of arms. But farther they knew Mrs Sommers, however, who, to a well cultivated mind, added a considerable experience of the world, did not take long to discover that their new friend was, in every sense of the word, a man whose habits and manners entitled him to the name and rank of a gentleman; and she thought, too, that she saw in him, after a short intercourse, many of those nobler qualities which raise the individual to a high and well-merited rank among his species. As for Emily, she loved his society she scarcely knew why; yet when she endeavoured to discover the cause, she found it no difficult matter to convince her-, self, that there was something about him so infinitely superior to all the men she had ever seen, that she was only obeying the dictates of reason in admiring and esteeming him.

not.

Her admiration and esteem continued to increase in proportion as she became better acquainted with him, and the sentiments seemed to be mutual. He now spent his time almost continually in her society, and it never hung heavy on their hands. The stranger was fond of music, and Emily, besides being mistress of her instrument, possessed naturally a fine voice. Neither did she sing and play unrewarded; Burleigh taught her that most enchant

It was to Emily Sommers that the stranger first spoke. He walked right across the room, and asked her to dance with him. Emily had never seen him before; but concluding that he had come there with some of her friends, and little acquainted with the rules of etiquette, she immediately, with a frank artlessness, smiled an acceptance of his request. Just at that moment young Squire Thoroughbred came bustling towards her; but observing hering of all modern languages-the language of Petrarch and hand already in that of the stranger, he looked somewhat wrathfully at the unknown, and said, with much dignity," I, sir, intended to have been Miss Sommers's partner." The stranger fixed his dark eye upon the squire, a slight smile curled on his lip, and without answering, he passed on with his partner, and took his place in the dance. The squire stood stock still for a moment, feeling as if he had just experienced a slight shock of electricity. When he recovered, he walked quietly away in search of Miss Wilhelmina Bouncer.

Tasso; and being well versed in the use of the pencil, showed her how to give to her landscapes a richer finish, and a bolder effect. Then they read together; and as they looked with a smile into each other's countenances, the fascinating pages of fiction seemed to acquire a tenfold interest. It was a picture for Rubens to have painted, that little domestic circle beside the parlour fire;— Mrs Sommers, with her work-table beside her, and a benevolent smile and matron grace upon her still pleasing countenance,---her guest, with the glow of animation lighting up