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to allude to her own feelings, it was with such nate ural and heartfelt eloquence that the whole court was affected; and when she described her rencounter at the stíle, there was a general pressure and a breathless suspense; and then a loud murmur of astonishment and admiration fully participated by even the bench of magistrates. The evidence was clear and conclusive; and the jury, without retiring, gave their verdict, guilty-Death.

When the miserable wretches were asked, in the usual forms, if they had any thing to say why the awful sentence should not be passed upon them, the old man replied by a look of idiotic vacancy, and was mute—the younger Hogan answered sullenly, “ Nothing;” the old woman, staring wildly on her son, tried to speak; her lips moved, but without a sound—and she fell forward on the bar in strong fits.

At this moment Cathleen rushed from the arms of her husband, and throwing herself on her knees, with clasped hands, and cheeks streaming with tears, begged for mercy for the old woman “Mercy, my lord judge !” she exclaimed.

“ Gentlemen, your honors, have mercy on her. She had mercy on me! She only did their bidding. As for the bundle, and all in it, I give it to her with all my soul, so it's no robbery. The grip of hunger's hard to bear; and if she hadn't taken it then, where would I have been now ? Sure they would have killed me for the sake of the watch, and I would have been a corpse before your honors this mo

Lent. O mercy! mercy for her! or never will I sleep asy on this side of the grave!”

The judge, though much affected, was obliged to have her forcibly carried from the court, and justice took its awful course. Sentence of death was pronounced on all the prisoners; but the woman was reprieved, and afterwards transported. The two men were executed within forty-eight hours after their conviction, on the Gallows Green. They made no public confession of their guilt, and rict their fate with sullen indifference. The awful ceremony was for a moment interrupted by an incident which afterwards furnished ample matter for wonder and speculation among the superstiSious populace. It was well known that the younger Hogan had been long employed on the estate of a nobleman in the neighbourhood ; but having been concerned in the abduction of a young female, under circumstances of peculiar atrocity, which for want of legal evidence could not be brought home to him, he was dismissed ; and, finding himself an object of general execration, he had since been skulking about the country, associating with housebreakers and other lawless and abandoned characters. At the mor ent the hangman was adjusting the rope round his neck, a shrill voice screamed from the midst of the crowd,

Barny Hogan! do ye mind Grace Power, and the last words ever she spoke to ye ?” There was a general movement and confusion ; no one could or would tell whence the voice proceedled. The

wretche i man was seen to change countenance for the first time, and raising himself on tiptoe, gazed wildly round upon the multitude; but he said nothing; and in a few minutes lie was no more.

The reader may wish to know what has become of Cathleen, our heroine, in the true sense of the word. Her story, her sufferings, her extraordinary fortitude, and pure simplicity of character, made her an object of general curiosity and interest; a subscription was raised for her, which soon amounted to a liberal sum; they were enabled to procure Reilly's discharge from the army, and with a part of the money, Cathleen, who, among her other perfections, was exceedingly pious after the fashion of her creed and country, founded yearly masses for the soul of the poor peddler; and vowed herself to make a pilgrimage of thanksgiving to St. Gobnate's well. Mr. L., the magistrate who had first examined her in the little inn at Balgowna, made her a munificent present; and anx, ious, perhaps, to offer yet further amends for his former doubts of her veracity, he invited Reilly, on very advantageous terms, to settle on his estate, where he rented a neat cabin, and a handsome plot of potato ground. There Reilly and his Cathleen were living ten years ago, with an increasing family, and in the enjoyment of much humble happiness; and there, for aught I know to the contrary, they may be living at this day.

THE INDIAN MOTHER. *

There is a comfort in the strength of love,
Making that pang endurable, which else
Would overset the brain-or break the heart

Wordsworth.

The monuments which human art has raised to human pride or power may decay with that power, or survive to mock that pride ; but sooner or later they perish-their place knows them not. In the aspect of a ruin, however imposing in itself, and however magnificent or dear the associations connected with it, there is always something sad and humiliating, reminding us how poor and how frail are the works of man, how unstable his hopes, and how limited his capacity compared to his aspirations! But when man has made to himself monuments of the works of God; when the memory of human affections, human intellect, human power, is blended with the immutable features of nature, they consecrate each other, and both endure together to the end. In a state of high civilization, man trusts to the record of brick and marble the pyramid, the column, the temple, the tomb :

" Then the bust
And altar rise-then sink again to dust."

This little tale (written in 1830) is founded on a striking Incident related in Humboldt's narrative. The facts romain qnaltered.

In the earlier stages of society, the isolated rock -the mountain, cloud-encircled—the river, rolling to its ocean-home — the very, stars themselves were endued with sympathies, and constituted the first, as they will be the last, witnesses and records of our human destinies and feelings. The glories of the Parthenon shall fade into oblivion; but while the heights of Thermopylæ stand, and while a wave murmurs in the gulf of Salamis, a voice shall cry aloud to the universe—" Freedom and glory to those who can dare to die woe and ererlasting infamy to him who would enthrall the unconquerable spirit!” The Coliseum with its sanguinary trophies is crumbling to decay; but the islet of Nisida, where Brutus parted with his Portia--the steep of Leucadia, still remain fixed as the foundations of the earth ; and lasting as the round world itself shall be the memories that hover over them!

As long as the waters of the Hellespont flow between Sestos and Abydos, the fame of the love that perished there shall never pass away. A traveller, pursuing his weary way through the midst of an African desert-a barren, desolate, and almost boundless solitude—found a gigantic sculptured head, shattered and half-buried in the sand; and near it the fragment of a pedestal, on which these words might be with pain deciphered: I am Peymandias, King of kings ; look upon my works,

mighty ones, and despair !” Who was Ozymanias ?- where are now his works ?—what bond of thought or feeling, links his past with our present ?

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