head! You won't forget to-morrow, eh? I'm sure to be at home all day. Policeman, have you got a light? Thanks.-Yes; they are, as you say, tight. The man I like's the sort of man a man can trust: you understan'? I call that man a man, you know: he is a man. Precisely so! If any man addresses me, no matter who that man may be― I always say, 'twixt man and man, this man's a man! You understan'? The houses have a quivering look; that corner one distinctly shook. I've got another fellow's hat! Well, never mind. All's one for that! The gas goes leaping up and down. We can't be right for Camden Town; this road went cast the other day-I think southwest's a shorter way. There used to be a place near here where one could get a glass of beer. I wish we had some bottled "Bass."-What is the matter with the gas? There's hardly wind enough to blow the lamp-posts that way, to and fro; and yet you see how each one leansI wonder what the deuce it means? My pipe's gone out: the air is chill: Is this Mile End, or Maida Hill? Remember-six o'clock we dine; bring several friends-say eight or nine. The tavern bar was warm and bright, and cheerful with a ruddy light: let's go back there and stop all night; I can't walk home: my boots are tight!

XV.-SHAMUS O'BRIEN.-A BALLAD OF ʼNINETY-EIGHT.— (Condensation.)-J. Sheridan Lefanu.

JIST afther the war, in the year 'ninety-eight,
As soon as the boys wor all scattered and bate,
'Twas the custom, whenever a pisant was got,
To hang him by thrial-barrin' sich as was shot.
There was trial by jury goin' on by day-light,
And the martial-law hangin' the lavins by night.
It's them was hard times for an honest gossoon:
If he missed in the judges-he'd meet a dragoon;
An' whether the sogers or judges gev sentence,
The sorra much time they allowed for repentance.
An' it's many's the fine boy was then an his keepin',
Wid small share iv restin', or atin', or sleepin';
Unsheltered by night, and unrested by day,

With the heath for their barrack, revenge for their pay.
An' the bravest an' hardiest boy iv them all
Was Shamus O'Brien, from the town iv Glingall.

For lightness iv fut there was not his peer,
For, by gorra, he'd almost outrun the red deer;
An' his dancin' was sich that the men used to stare,
An' the women turn crazy, he done it so quare;
An', by gorra, the whole world gev it into him there!
An' it's he was the boy that was hard to be caught,
An' it's often he run, an' it's often he fought.

But the fox must sleep sometimes, the wild deer must rest,
An' treachery prey on the blood iv the best.

Afther many a brave action of power and pride,
An' many a hard run on the mountain's bleak side,
An' a thousand great dangers and toils overpast,
In the darkness of night he was taken at last.

Now, Shamus, look back on the beautiful moon,
For the door of the prison must close on you soon:

The fleet limbs wor chained, an' the sthrong hands wor bound.
An' he laid down his length on the could prison ground.
An' the dreams of his childhood kem over him there,

As gentle an' soft as the sweet summer air:
Bringing fresh to his heart merry days long gone by,
Till the tears gathered heavy and thick in his eye.
But the tears didn't fall, for the pride of his heart
Would not suffer one drop down his pale cheek to start;
An' he sprang to his feet in the dark prison cave,
An' he swore, with the fierceness that misery gave,
By the hopes of the good, an' the cause of the brave,
That when he was mouldering in the cold grave
His enemies never should have it to boast

His scorn of their vengeance one moment was lost;
His bosom might bleed, but his cheek should be dhry,
For undaunted he lived, and undaunted he'd die.

Well, as soon as a few weeks was over and gone,
The terrible day iv the thrial kem on;

An' the court was so full that the people wor bothered,
An' attorneys an' criers on the point iv bein' smothered;
An' counsellors almost gev over for dead,

An' the jury sittin' up in their box overhead;

An' the judge settled out so detarmined and big,

With his gown on his back, and an illigant new wig;
An' silence was called, an' the minute it was said
The court was as still as the heart of the dead.
An' they heard but the openin' of one prison lock,
An' Shamus O'Brien kem into the dock.

For one minute he turned his eye round on the throng,
An' he looked at the bars, so firm and so strong,
An' he saw that he had not a hope, nor a friend,
A chance to escape, nor a word to defend :
And they read a big writin', a yard long at laste,
But Jim didn't understand it, nor mind it a taste.
An' the judge took a big pinch iv snuff, an' he says,
"Are you guilty or not, Jim O'Brien, av you plaze ?"

An' all held their breath in the silence of dhread,
An' Shamus O'Brien made answer and said,

66

My lord, if you ask me, if in my lifetime

I thought any treason, or did any crime

That should call to my cheek, as I stand alone here,
The hot blush of shame, or the coldness of fear,

Though I stood by the grave to receive my death-blow,
Before God and the world I would answer you, no;

But if you would ask me, as I think it like,

If in the rebellion I carried a pike,

An' fought for ould Ireland from the first to the close,
An' sheltered in peril her friends from her foes,

I answer you, yes!-an' I tell you again,

Though I stand here to perish, it's my glory that then
In her cause I was willing my veins should run dhry,
An' that now for her sake I am ready to die."

Then the silence was great, an' the jury smiled bright, An' the judge wans't sorry the job was made light; By my sowl, it's himself was the crabbed ould chap, In a twinklin' he pulled on his ugly black cap.

Then Shamus' mother in the crowd standing by, Called out to the judge with a pitiful cry,

66

Oh, judge, darlin', don't, oh, don't say the word,
The crathur is young, have mercy, my lord;

He was foolish, he didn't know what he was doin'-
You don't know him, my lord, oh, don't give him to ruin-
He's the kindliest crathur, the tenderest-hearted—
Don't part us for ever, we that's so long parted.
Judge, mavourneen, forgive him, forgive him, my lord,
An' God will forgive you, oh, don't say the word!"

That was the first minute that O'Brien was shaken,
When he saw that he was not quite forgot or forsaken;
An' down his pale cheeks at the words of his mother,
The big tears wor runnin' fast, one afther th'other.
But at last by the strength of his high-mounting pride,
He conquered and mastered his grief's swelling tide,
An'," says he, "mother, darlin', don't cry any more,
Don't make me seem broken fornint my last hour,
For I wish, when my head's lyin' under the heather,
No thrue man can say that I showed the white feather!"
Then towards the judge Shamus bent down his head,
An' that minute the solemn death-sintence was said.
The mornin' was bright, and the mists rose on high,
An' the lark whistled merrily in the clear sky-
But why are the men standin' idle so late?
An' why do the crowds gother fast in the street?
What come they to talk of? what come they to see?
An' why does the long rope hang from the cross-tree?
Ay! fasther an' fasther the crowd gathered there,
Boys, horses and gingerbread, just like a fair ;
An' whiskey was selling, an' cussamuck too,
And ould men and young women enjoying the view.
An' ould Tim Mulvany, he med the remark,

There wasn't sich a sight since the time of Noah's ark;
For thousands was gothered there, if there was one,
Waitin' till such time as the hangin' id come on;
At last they threw open the big prison gate,
An' out came the sheriffs and sodgers in state,
An' a cart in the middle, and Shamus was in it;
Not paler, but prouder than ever, that minute.
An' as soon as the people saw Shamus O'Brien,
Wid prayin' and blessin', and all the girls cryin',
A wild wailin' sound kem on by degrees,

Like the sound of the lonesome wind blowin' thro' trees.
Then the hangman dhrew near, and the people grew still,
Young faces turned sickly, and warm hearts turned chill;
An' the rope bein' ready, his neck was made bare,
For the grip iv the life-strangling cord to prepare:
An' the good priest has left him, havin' said his last prayer.

But the good priest done more, for his hands he unbound,
And with one daring spring Jim has leaped on the ground;
Bang, bang! goes the carbines, and clash goes the sabres,
He's not down! he's alive still; now stand to him, neighbours.
Through the smoke and the horses he's into the crowd,
Oh, by japers, he's free! Than thunder more loud
By one shout from the people the heavens were shaken—
One shout that the dead of the world might awaken.

Your swords they may glitter, your carbines go bang,
But if you want hangin' it's yourselves you must hang;
To-night he'll be sleepin' in Aherloe Glin,

An' bad luck's in the dice if you catch him again.
The sodgers ran this way, the sheriffs ran that,
An' Father Malone lost his new Sunday hat;
An' the sheriffs wor both of them punished severely,
An' fined like the divil, because Jim done them fairly.

XVI.-BARDELL versus PICKWICK.-(Condensation.)—Charles Dickens. ON the eventful 14th of February, this interesting trial for Breach of Promise of Marriage took place. On the arrival of the defendant, Mr. Pickwick, he stood up in a state of great agitation and took a glance at the Court. There were, already, a pretty large sprinkling of spectators in the gallery, and a numerous muster of gentlemen in wigs in the barristers' seats; who presented, as a body, all that pleasing and extensive variety of nose and whisker for which the "Bar" of England is so justly celebrated. Such of the gentlemen as had a brief to carry, carried it in as conspicuous a manner as possible, and occasionally scratched their noses therewith to impress the fact more strongly on the spectators; other gentlemen, who had no briefs, carried under their arms goodly octavos with a red label behind, and that underdone-piecrust-coloured cover which is technically known as law-calf." Others, who had neither briefs nor books, thrust their hands into their pockets, and looked as wise as they conveniently could.

A loud cry of "Silence!" announced the entrance of the Judge (Mr. Justice Stareleigh), who was most particularly short, and so fat that he seemed all face and waistcoat. He rolled in upon two little turned legs; and, having bobbed gravely to the Bar, who bobbed gravely to him, put his little legs underneath the table, and his little three-cornered hat upon it; and, when he had done this, all you could see of him was two queer little eyes, one broad pink face, and somewhat about half of a big and very comical looking wig.

Then the officer, on the floor of the Court, called out "Silence!" in a commanding tone; another Officer, in the gallery, cried "Silence!" in an angry manner; whereupon three or four more ushers shouted "Silence! silence! silence!" in a voice of indignant remonstrance.

A sensation was then perceptible in the body of the Court, as Mrs. Bardell, the plaintiff, supported by Mrs. Cluppins, her bosom friend number one, was led in, in a drooping state. An extra-sized umbrella was then handed in by Mr. Dodson, and a pair of pattens by Mr. Fogg (the plaintiff's attorneys); each of whom had prepared a sympathising and melancholy face for the occasion. Mrs. Sanders, bosom friend number two, then appeared, leading in Master Bardell. At sight of her

child Mrs. Bardell started; suddenly recollecting herself, she kissed him in a frantic manner; and then, relapsing into a state of hysterical imbecility, the good lady requested to be informed where she was ;—in reply to this, Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders turned their heads away and wept; while Messrs. Dodson and Fogg entreated the plaintiff to compose herself. Sergeant Buzfuz rubbed his eyes very hard with a large white handkerchief, and gave an appealing look towards the Jury— while the Judge was visibly affected, and several of the beholders tried to cough down their emotions.

"Bardell and Pickwick," cried a gentleman in black, calling on the case which stood first on the list.

"I am for the plaintiff, my Lord," said Mr. Sergeant Buzfuz. Judge.-"Who is with you, brother Buzfuz?"

Mr. Skimpin bowed to intimate that he was.

"I appear for the defendant, my Lord," said Mr. Sergeant Snubbin. Judge." Anybody with you, brother Snubbin ?"

"Mr. Phunky, my Lord."

Judge. Sergeant Buzfuz and Mr. Skimpin for the plaintiff (writing); for the defendant, Sergeant Snubbin and Mr. Monkey.

"B-b-beg your Lordship's pardon—Phunky, Phunky."

Judge.-Oh, very good; I never had the pleasure of hearing the gentleman's name before."

Here Mr. Phunky bowed and smiled, and the Judge bowed and smiled too; and then Mr. Phunky, blushing into the very whites of his eyes, tried to look as if he didn't know that everybody was gazing at him— a thing which no man ever succeeded in doing yet, and, in all reasonable probability, never will.

Judge.-"Go on!"

Mr. Skimpin then proceeded to open the case; and the case appeared to have very little inside it, when he had opened it, for he kept such particulars as he knew completely to himself; and he sat down, after a lapse of three minntes, leaving the jury in precisely the same advanced stage of wisdom as they were in before.

Sergeant Buzfuz then rose with all the majesty and dignity which the grave nature of the proceedings demanded; and, having whispered to Dodson ... and conferred briefly with Fogg .. pulled his gown over his shoulders, settled his wig, and commenced his speech:

My Lud, and you, Gentlemen of the Jury-never, in the whole course of my professional experience-never, from the first moment of my applying myself to the study and practice of the law,-have I approached a case with feelings of such deep emotion-or with such a heavy sense of the responsibility imposed upon me; a responsibility, I must say, which I could never have supported, were I not buoyed up, and sustained, by a conviction so strong that it amounts to positive certainty, that the cause of truth and justice-or, in other words, the cause of my much injured and most oppressed client must prevail, with the high-minded and intelligent dozen of men whom I now see in that box before me.

"You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen," continued Sergeant Buzfuz, well knowing that, from the learned friend alluded to, the gentlemen of the Jury had heard just nothing at all-"you have heard from my learned friend that this is an action for a Breach of Promise of Marriage in which the damages are laid at £1,500. But