· The Cottager's Bridal Night.

was a little damped by the inauspicious halt of the piper, as he concluded that his music must be as lame as himself; a little experience, however, of its vivacity soon convinced him that externals frequently afford a false estimate of human capability.

The dance proceeded in the customary way. The bridegroom selected a partner, and while the rest of the company were ranged round the room, Hugh continued indefatigable till the lady grew tired; her place was immediately supplied by another, who shortly retiring made room for a third. Teague followed, and he seemed best to understand and perform the movements of the Irish jig. It is difficult to describe the rapidity and correctness with which the peasants beat the ground in their dances—not

"On light fantastic toe”—

but rather on heavy resounding heel. Not a note of the music escapes, and time is preserved with astonishing precision.

In the intervals of dancing, goblets and wooden mugs filled plenteously with punch, were handed round, and the piper amused the revellers occasionally with some of the melancholy airs of his country-such as "Savourneen Deelish"-" Caleend has cruitheenurbo"-" the lamentations of Ulster," &c. These seemed to have a peculiar effect upon the auditors, many of whom looked intently at the performer with eyes swimming in tears. Teague among the rest was moved, and often exclaimed in a smothered tone, " Och hone! och hone! poor ould Ireland-Like the Rans de Vaches of Switzerland, Irish music awakens associations which are at once so mingled with joy and sorrow, that while the listeners weep in the simplicity of their hearts, they secretly exult in the sensation which it creates. There is a tenderness and a pathos in those airs which even foreigners have acknowledged to be irresistible-a tone of feeling and dejection, that is so frequently interrupted by the passionate bursts of wordless eloquence-and a spirit of characteristic and fanciful expression, that is so often broken by the magic of pensive and bewailing sounds-that they resemble the wild and aerial songs of those beings with which eastern mythology has peopled the Paradise of the Blest.

The honest but boisterous merriment of the guests filled the room with noise and confusion, and in the midst of the bustle the door suddenly burst open, and a gaunt figure

!

The Cottager's Bridal Night.

wrapt in a large mantle rudely entered. There was a mystery in his appearance that seemed fearful to all those who observed him, while at the same time he preserved a superior air that forbade the impertinence of a question. He stood for a moment gazing on the group-a slouched hat which covered his eyes, prevented them from distinctly catching his features his look was firm and intrepid-it did not wander over the faces that were peeping and shrinking around him, but. fastened upon one who alone appeared conscious of its meaning. The din of voices and music was suspended-those who should have stood forward to demand the cause of the intrusion, were anxious to overlook it in silence, and those who were uneasy to be informed had not courage to seek the information.

There is a sameness in the human mind that generalizes the great sensations of the soul, and renders them similar every where-equally intelligible through the disguise of foreign manners and foreign customs. Thus had a mandarine witnessed the action of the stranger as he flung himself into a seat, he would have concluded that he was absorbed in grief which partook more of despair than common use-and the same conclusion would have been drawn by a Dutchman, or a Zealander, provided he had understanding enough to comprehend the meaning of a sullen countenance-a knitted brow-a vacant and heart sick gaze-and a total disregard of the company that were buzzing around. At the same time that this extraordinary entree struck the merry-makers with astonishment, it raised their curiosity to the highest, and, when they had recovered from their first impression, a murmur of enquiry spread around the room, and even Teague himself in a halfwhisper exclaimed," Arrah! hould your tongues-you'll never know a word about it, if you don't wait quietly till you hear."

The stranger appeared to observe the anxiety of the company, but affected to despise it, and turning round his head in silent contempt, fixed his dark and penetrating glance on the bride who sat pale and motionless by the side of her betrothed. She met his eye, but dreading to encounter it, her features fell, and she continued to gaze on the ground, as if there was an acousation on the lips of the stranger, which she expected every moment would be denounced. This, however, was unobserved by the company-and, after a struggle to repress their curiosity

The Cottager's Bridal Night.

some resumed their gaiety, while others pressed round, though at some distance, the chair of the intruder.

All this occupied but a few moments. At length one, more bold than the rest, addressed him :

"You're welcome, sir-welcome"

"Welcome?-as poison to the banquet, or the sword of an Englishman to the heart of a French Renegade.” "Will you not pledge us?"

"Aye," rejoined the stranger-I'll pledge the bride. My service to you, Martha-Martha-the bride-my service"he repeated, in an emphatic voice, raising his hand in a mysterious manner above his head.

Whether it was the motion which he used, or the manner in which he spoke that affected Martha, it was difficult to determine, but she became suddenly pale, and leaning upon Hugh's shoulder, faintly exclaimed that she felt the heat overpower her.

The common anxiety was now transferred from the intruder to the bride, and the one was almost unnoticed in the solicitude evinced about the other. Hugh was roused to exertion above the rest, and impatiently hurried out to obtain a glass of cold water;-in the confusion, the stranger advanced imperceptibly to the chair close by Martha's side

"Air-air"-he cried, in a voice somewhat changed from that which he had at first assumed-" air-give her air" he looked at her for a moment, then bending over, he exclaimed, in a low but audible tone,-" by the waters' edge there is a healthful breeze-Martha, that will restore you-I, alone, will follow you there"-then raising his voice, he continued, "let her pass-see, she recovers-let her pass-the storm would be better than this close room.”

The

The auditors gave way, as if some superior power had commanded them, and Martha passed slowly out. stranger closed the door, and placing his back against it, exclaimed-" Fill up I pledge you all-it is a bridal night, and the glass that is not full should be flung into the sea, where he who held it should follow to redeem it."

Amazement and fear were evident in the looks of the company-they all paused-the glasses and mugs stood untouched upon the table-Teague and the piper had got together in a corner, and the merriment of the one, and the music of the other were alike suspended during this brief but emphatic address. "I don't believe but he's not"-commenced Teague, in a tone almost inaudible

The Cottager's Bridal Night.

audible to his cowering companion, when he met the eye of the object of whom he was about to speak-he became instantly mute.

"Will you not pledge me?" There was a meaning in the question which cannot be defined-its effect upon those to whom it was addressed was electric and simultaneous. Every hand raised a goblet,—but not a lip cried-" I pledge you!"

"Well," asked the stranger, altering his voice to a tone of mingled submission and derision-" Well, sirs, must I leave you in silence, as I came?-I am unworthy of your words, for you will not spare them to me. I entered unknown amongst you, and I depart from you as I came. But I must learn to bear my destiny, which has subjected me to more misfortunes than that."

He turned to go out-some of them moved-some rose to follow him-he suddenly looked round, and drawing a pistol from his coat, exclaimed :

"Not a step, sirs, not a step. I will depart alone-who values his whole skin, and unbroken bones will peaceably remain within doors. I charge you-warn you--take heed how you trespass on my path."

He went forward to the passage-none dared to follow him -and in an instant, he was on the rocks.

The storm had increased during the night, and the darkness became dangerous. He apppeared, however, to be perfectly acquainted with the track, and crossing to the top of a cliff that overhung the sea, he flung himself down by the side till he reached the strand. A natural cavern formed a shelter for a small boat that lay tossing upon the waves-it was fastened to the fragment of a rock by a rope, which he unloosed, and stepping into the frail canoe directed its course a short way up the strand.

The objects that stood there had been invisible to other eyes-to his all was darkness except one-the trembling Martha, who watched in doubt and terror his arrival.

"Are you

alone?" he enquired.

"Yes," she replied, which was more a sigh than a word. He reached out his hand in silence-and placed an oar from the edge of the boat to the strand-she stepped upon it, and the next moment she lay upon the breast of her long absent Harry.

Aided by the wind and tide the boat cut rapidly along.— The people in the cottage had by this time collected upon.

The Cottager's Bridal Night.

the rocks to search for Martha; and as the lovers made their passage towards Galway, they caught at intervals the flickering glare of lights at a distance, flinging their faint rays upon the dark shrubs and rocks. The search however was in vain-for

"Ah! the young false one had fled!"

Towards morning the agitation of the disappointed bridegroom created an interest among the country peoplevarious reports of the manner of her flight were brought to him, most of which were contradictory, but all unsatisfactory. Some went so far as to affirm that she had drowned herself, but at length on the second night the truth reached him.

He learned that the stranger who had intruded was the person to whom she had been formerly attached--that he had returned from the continent in the enjoyment of a pensionthat his first enquiry was after Martha, and that hearing of her intended marriage too late to prevent it, he determined to carry her off by force if he found that she was favorable to his designs-that he succeeded, as has been related, and that on reaching Galway that night a second ceremony was performed, which secured him the possession of her hand.

It was now too late for reflection-after what happened he could not receive her, and her loss was the greatest misery he could endure. In a few days he quitted Clare, and joining the Patriots of South America, left Ireland in the course of the succeeding month.

The occurrence of such a circumstance in high life would have afforded a field for legal disquisition, but the poverty of the persons concerned excluded them from such appeal, and the matter rested as we have stated.

Harry and Martha are still living at Galway-Teague is now in Dublin, at some employment; he often relates the story, but never fails to conclude his narration hy observing

Och! then, it 's my own self wouldn't hinder a bit of fun-I'd let her have her fling, till I'd see what she'd do; and if I found she wouldn't treat me decent, I'd leave her where I found her; but, by my sowl, I wouldn't let any spalpeen have the satisfaction of living with her."