We are told that in after-life he became singularly rigid and austere in his habits, perhaps in consequence of the struggles and privations of early years; was much given to solitary musings, 'and seldom seen to smile. Who shall say how often that mighty spirit, in the very triumph of its selfcreated greatness, looked lingeringly to his humble home at Utrecht-danced once again in his dreams on the banks of the Rhine, or listened to the silvery accents of a voice which never ceased to haunt him.

The only extravagance which we hear of Pope Adrian's indulging himself in, was a passionate love of old coins, which he spared no expense in collecting, although his successor seems to have attached little value to them. Some brass ones in particular, of simple appearance, and wanting even the charm of antiquity, were said to have been discovered upon his person when he died, and on being submitted to antiquarian research, found to be of very modern date.

In the life of Adrian VI. we have a brilliant example of the triumphs that can be effected by the irresistible might of man's own mind, and intellect in despite of the accidents of birth and fortune; and a beautiful and touching illustration of the vainness of all this to make us happy. The son of the barge-builder of Utrecht laughed and danced by the river. The poor Student of Louvain, as he studied at the corners of streets, or in the church-porch at midnight, was contented and even joyous; but Pope Adrian never smiled Wordsworth has condensed every thing we would say on this subject into two simple and exquisite lines, to which it would be superfluous to add a single word:

Oh! 'tis the heart that magnifies this life,
Making a truth and beauty of its own!

The house where he lived at Utrecht is still shown to the traveller under the name of the Pope's House, but is now reduced to the state of a common inn.

(NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.)

AN IRISH INSURGENT OF THE LAST CENTURY.

It is a refreshing task to record an incident so opposite in character to those which too frequently stain the annals of 1798, and the succeeding spring; but, as it is not the only instance of high feeling in an an Irish peasant, it must be considered as an occasional trait of character among a people who are not supposed to be over-indulgent to their enemies, however kindly they may be disposed towards their friends.

At the first dawn of a spring morning, in 1799, a fine athletic young man, equipped in the usual frieze garb of an Irish peasant, aroused himself from his lair, in a furze brake, on a hill-side, in the county of Wexford, and, as he sprang on his feet, he hastily brushed away with his horny palms the thorns and seeds which clung to his soiled dress; while, at the same time, he looked around him with anxious searching eyes. But, as no living thing met his gaze, he seized. hold of his never-failing coadjutor;-a good, stout, well-seasoned black-thorn shillelagh,-and began to wend his way towards the town of Newtownbarry. His trusty boxingstick he ever and anon clenched in his iron fist, while he gave it a rapid flourish round his head, as if impatient of seeking for a fit subject to exercise its toughness on.

If I had that black hearted Orange villain, Colonel Ohere in my grip, may be I wouldn't give him his tay in a mug, he exclaimed, as he made the black-thorn whistle round his head with the velocity of an Australian's boommerang. « Och, bathershin maybe I wouldn't! -and then another flourish of the black-thorn. The cheering influence of the opening day, so animating to all the living creation,

imparted an elasticity to his step, which ever and anon broke a "one, two, three, and cut the buckle » caper. Then he would chant a snatch of one of the mirthful melodies of his country; but, as he journeyed on, a painful thought would, in spite of this buoyancy of spirits, obtrude itself, and check the exuberant levity which a moment before exercised its influence over his stout frame. The blood would rush to his cheeks, and as suddenly forsake them, as he alternately turned his thoughts from scenes of blood and strife to the softer the better feelings of his nature. His wife!-his children! where were they? Wandering beggars on the world's wide waste! His home! alas! he had none. The recollection of domestic scenes filled his heart, till the teardrops became too big for the distended eyelids to contain them. The uncertainty of his children's fate, and of the destiny which awaited them and him, added anguish to his already excited feelings.

When in this state of mind, he gained the summit of a rising ground, where he stopped, and brushed away the tears from his eyes, then, casting a mournful glance on the spot where his dwelling had once stood, his brain reeled at the sight of the heap of blackened rubbish, which told too plainly the fate of his little property,-the destruction of his all.

Darby Kelly had been one of the most active and daring insurgents during the brief and sanguinary strife of 98. He had hitherto escaped the vigilance, and consequently the vengeance of the magistracy, who had offered a reward for his apprehension. In those times, for one who had offended as Kelly had done, to be taken was to be condemned. He was now traversing this bye-road near Newtownbarry, in hopes of meeting with his wife and children, or at least of learning something of their fate; and since the rude unnatural din of arms and civil strife had ceased, and no longer incited brother to rise in mortal combat against brother, he was not without hopes that his errors and offences would be pardoned and forgotten.

These were the objects which had caused him to return to

the vicinity of his former habitation, but the sight of the charred and sooty ruins had given another turn to his resolution. His mind, which since the clash of arms had ceased, had become calm, was now again lashed into fury at the remembrance of his wrongs; and in the anguish of his heart he cried aloud: the villains, the unfeeling villains, to burn my house, to destroy the shelter its roof afforded to an unoffending woman and her helpless children; to burn the corn which was given by a bountiful Providence for their support! The devil who did this shall feel the strength of my revenge.

He then paused for a moment, as if meditating what course to pursue his mind soon became concentrated on one object, that of inflicting injury on his oppressors, and he determined to be revenged on Colonel O-, as the author of all his misfortunes. In this state of feeling, his breast swelling with emotion, his brain excited to madness, he proceeded on his journey; when suddenly turning an abrupt angle in the road, he was startled at beholding the apparently lifeless body of a military officer lying in the ditch at the roadside, while a horse fully caparisoned, with its bridle and saddle on, from which the officer had evidently been thrown, was quietly grazing at his side, and also beside him sat a small spaniel, who looked wistfully in his master's face.

Kelly stooped down to assist the fallen officer, gazed for an instant on the swollen and empurpled face which was turned towards him. Started back with the rapidity of thought--his brow suddenly became crimsoned with ragehis eyes flashed fire-his teeth became clenched with a convulsive effort, and his whole frame quivered with excitement: his stick was poised in his clenched hand-he glanced around with marks of caution, as if to be assured that no eye was there to witness the deed he was about to commit. Revenge is now within my reach, he cried, and a cold convulsive bitter laugh shook his frame. He advanced with raised arm, as if about to crush the object of his deadly hatred. He stopped-he paused, as if again to revel in the thought of realizing his meditated vengeance. There lay his

"

enemy prostrate an helpless beneath him-no eye to bear witness against him. It was Colonel O-, his deadliest-and most unrelenting persecutor-who had burned his little property who had hunted him as the beagle tracks the hare, thirsting for his blood-whose enmity had unceasingly pursued him till he wandered an outcast and a beggar in his native land. The blood rushed through his veins like liquid fire-he stepped back a pace or two as if to give impetus to the blow he was about to inflict, and again to dwell on the delightful thought of gratifying his revenge. He again paused for a moment-in that moment a mental combat was waging within, compassion was contending with revenge in his bosom for the mastery. One thought of his wife and helpless children turned the scale,-his better nature prevailed, -his thirst for the life of his enemy past,-by a violent effort he cast away his stick far from him, he could not crush a man so utterly incapable of defending himself, so completely at his mercy. The cloud which had gathered on his brow passed away, as he ejaculated with deep emotion, "I cannot act a coward's part. I cannot harm the gentleman. I cannot take advantage of a defenceless man, though that man, has been the destroyer of my house and property."

Here was the true working of the Samaritan precept. When you are about to commit a doubtful act, pause; when you are certain the act is a virtuous one, give it not a second thought. Accordingly Kelly raised the unfortunate Colonel from the ground, placed him gently against the bank for support, ran to an adjacent brook, used his hat as a bucket, returned and washed and sprinkled the Colonel's face with water, and chafed his temples till animation returned. By these means the Colonel was presently sufficiently restored for Kelly to carry and place him on his horse. Kelly then, with a magnanimity above common minds, supported him whom he considered as his bitterest enemy, and conducted him in perfect safety to his home. The rest is soon told.

The Colonel, who was a violent partisan magistrate, had dined the preceding evening in Newtownbarry, with several other