the opinion. 66 SOPHIA, as I shall here call her, who had been out that afternoon a shopping,"'—a term which she was pleased to use,-shone at this time in all the bloom and beauty of eighteen. Her person tall and well formed-eyes deep jet, and sparkling-her countenance open and fascinating, but wanting that intellectual expression which so fascinatingly enhances an educated woman's worth, and renders her still more lovely and attractive. Sophia having, in a great measure, dismissed that shy feeling, which naturally accompanies a modest woman, in her first interview with a stranger, and growing every hour more familiar, at length freely participated in our conversation. Henry's curious inquiries about home, being chiefly satisfied, he then began to call to recollection many favourite passages in the different Latin and Greek authors, which we had read together, and which he was passionately fond of quoting in their own language. In the full warmth of his feelings, he had just recited the following beautiful expression, which the unhappy Philoctetes addressed to Neoptolemus -I know thee well, Thy soft words could almost sooth me When Sophia, his "lisping love," put to flight his classic flow, by describing to him the beautiful dresses Mr. S. had just received of the newest fashion from London, and concluded by asking whether he would allow her to select one, which of course, was kindly answered with "yes my dear." A moment's pause brought Henry back to his favourite conversation, till he was again interrupted by the description of a beautiful necklace which she had, that evening, seen at Mr. N's, and hoped he would let her have it. In short, the full relation of all the paraphernalia of female nothings, (I hope the ladies will excuse me,) were so thickly interwoven by Sophia, with every new subject which we broached, that I could have a thousand times wished her absent-and although the observation of Pygmalian, whom Ovid styles the Paphian hero, forcibly presented itself to my memory, yet respect for my friend, and mindful of the wholesome advice of Sophocles, Do not to ills, ill medicine apply, Nor a severer anguish add to grief. I suffered it, like a shadow, to glide unuttered through the inlet of the mind. Happily for poor Henry, that his feelings, though in the highest degree sensitive, were of the gentlest cast; and who instead of addressing her, as Lord Byron would have done, "you annoy me damnably," or even using the less repulsive language of Abdiel "Oh! woman, still thou err'st, nor end wilt find ور His answers to Sophia, were such as discovered a heart of the finest mould, and a mind ripened by no common study of Philosophy. I had often heard and read of the unthinking levity of French ladies, but had never seen it verified till I met with Sophia, whose intellectual qualifications consisted chiefly in her knowledge of flounces, frills, and furbelows; and indeed I now remember that Abelard particularly mentions that trifling frivolity, which is so truly and proverbially the characteristic of the Gaul. That the French may boast of many superior women I admit, but wish from my heart that Madam De Genlis shall never be cited as an example of refined genius or literary ability, for doubtless impudence and assumption are her highest attributes-witness her criticism on Lord Byron. Having remained for some time among the Canadian French, I can now speak from experience, and must say, that I find them all very much like Sophia, better qualified for discussing the fashions of the day, and the prices of silks, lace and parasols, than any thing that could improve the mind, or give it a relish for subjects of a sentimental or literary nature. But perhaps I have been here too rhapsodical, and shall therefore, in begging the reader's pardon, turn more closely to the subject of my narrative, observing with the unfortunate Oedipus, that -Sweet is the life, That glides away without the sense of ills. For several weeks I took every opportunity of visiting Henry, whose indisposition had now assumed an alarming appearance-yet still with a calm unruffled temper, and evenness of mind, he seemed prepared for the worst fate that might possibly befal him. I saw in every look and action so much of that heavenly wisdom which so greatly ennobled the immortal Socrates, that I could not help placing before my mind's eye, the many traits in the character of that great master of philosophy: and while I endeavoured to keep back from his memory, the recollection of his withered hopes-fearful to awake a grief half calmed to restin the fulness of my heart, I was ready to exclaim, happy, happy Henry; while I who have not endured one third of thy wrongs, could pray from my soul, that I had been born a savage, or something less civilized, rather than for a moment think that I am an exile from my friends, and aged parents, who are still dearer to me than life, all through the unmerited injuries heaped upon my tortured country, by those whom she has educated, and as Swift truly observes, by those whom she has civilized. The Canadian, or rather the American Indian, before tutored by the politeness of the bowing and jilting French, or the charity of England, had more true notions of justice and integrity than he even now possesses, notwithstanding all the polish he has undergone-this may be easily proved, from the still remaining vestiges of his originality. My pen, I fear, is rather political and I regret it, still "My soul is calm, nor apt to rise in arms, Except when fast approaching danger warms." My friend, who was of too fine a texture to "bloom in this world of storm," having now lost every hope of recovery, and sinking rapidly under a disease, evidently brought on by disappointment, begged that his last moments might be attended by me, and related to his dear old mother. With this request I complied, and though distressing as it was to me, I watched the going down of his sun at but too early an hour, and the closing of the brightest and most intellectual eyes I ever beheld in man. Yes, I grasped the hand of my dying friend till the pulse of life had ceased to beat, and the spirit that warmed one of the kindest and best of hearts had returned to its God who gave it.his, this was the hour for reflection and to me the most distressing-here in a strange land friendless and alone, gazing on the lifeless corse of one who had been my dearest companion, and with whom every feeling of my heart had been closely intwined, filled me with sensations which can only be felt, not written. Still I was ready to ask, like the weeping Eve, could this be death! but ah! it was too plainly verified in the glazed lustre of Henry's eye which had set for ever-in the stillness of a heart, which in the language of Claudian "had no stains within"— and in the silence of that tongue, from which "truths divine," had come often mended. To what then does the vain ambition of man lead, which seeks but the "magic of a name?" Where then is the glory of him who is but "the pilgrim of a day, Spouse of the worm and brother of the clay, Having performed the last sad office due to his sacred ashes, I could only in the silence of my grief say, farewell my Henry; and though, like CHATTERTON and DERMODY, you have lived unheeded, and died neglected, yet thy injured name shall reach posterity, and thy memory be ever dearly cherished, as long as life shall animate the deeply afflicted, and sorrowing heart of—A. K. QUEBEC, 1829. Henry, impatient for the catastrophe of his infernal plot, rushed furiously into the chamber, and with affected rage and stentorian imprecations, demanded the adulterer. Poor Mary, like one thunder-struck, and surprised with terrors and astonishment, started from her sleep, and in a trembling voice, and an expression of features, in which amazement was strongly pictured, besought the occasion of his anger. He gave no answer to her entreaties, but continuing his assumed fierceness of fiend-like indignation, searched every corner of the room, and from beneath the bed drew out the hidden traitor, whom, with a ghastly smile of triumph, such as Satan's horrid countenance wore when he tempted Eve, he dragged close to her eyes. This unexpected sight, with the appearance of a discovery so strange and shocking, almost annihilated the astonished and appalled Mary, whose senses were for a time suspended, whose faculties were rendered torpid, while her organs of speech were fettered by the icicles of terror; happy had she never awoke to the misery that awaited her. "is "Chaste Diana of virtue, paragon of conjugal chasteness!" said Henry, this the truth of your innocence and purity of heart, to which you so deceitfully and so artfully pretended? Is this the wretch to whom you have sacrificed your honour? Is this the defiler of my bed?-this the catiff whom you set up in my very chan has the revered idol of your secret devotions?" "O He !" exclaimed the injured Mary, in an agony that almost prevented utteran 6 o you-can you, O Henry! believe me guilty-can you suspect my fidelity, even if an angel from heaven should declare me false? Can a moment believe that I knew this vile wretch, or that I had the most distant you for idea of his being concealed here? My virtue suspected?-Good God! and by my husband too, and in the sight of that Omnipresent Being, who will attest my innocence, in spite of the vile conspiracy that has been set on foot against my fame and honour. Oh Henry! there needed not this cruel blow to wound a heart that is already writhing on that rack of unkindness, on which your cruel conduct has stretched it. Kill me, if thou thinkest the ravages of sorrow too slow! hurry me to my silent grave, but taint not my unspotted innocence !" "Your innocence, indeed! audacious presumption !" retorted the husband; "and is it possible that you have the assurance to talk of innocence, and in the presence of this damning evidence! do not add falsehood to the guilt of the crying sin of adultery!" Having inveighed in this brutal strain of invective for some time, he then turned from her, and was about leaving the room, when, making an effort to which conscious innocence gave strength, she caught hold of his hand, and falling on her knees, uttered, with the piteous accents of an angel of supplication“Ö Henry, my still dear husband!—if yet I may call you by that endearing name' let me beg, on my knees, let that wife you once so dearly loved, let her entreat that you will not expose my hitherto unspotted fame to public infamy. I shall not long continue a barrier in the way of your pleasures; the grave is already open to receive me, and you may make your pathway to brighter scenes of conjugal love, than those which you have enjoyed with me, over its green turf: but I again conjure you, let me sink into it with an unblemished reputation; and thus the name of poor Mary, if it be ever remembered, it shall not be associated with a dishonourable imputation. Surely that heart which I once thought the chosen sanctuary of honour cannot be so steeled against compassion as to refuse me this request-the last I shall ever ask. As to that vile wretch, whom you employed to betray me, the hand of an offended God shall soon punish him for his attrocious wickedness." These words plunged daggers into his heart, and relenting pity beginning to gain an ascendency in his mind, he rushed out of the chamber, dragging with him the infamous valet. As soon as he reached his own apartment he dismissed the diabolical valet with a positive injunction that he should leave Ireland on the following morning for ever. Few hearts have been able to resist the tears of an amiable and virtuous woman: those of Mary melted the torpid feelings of Henry to compassion, and unravelled the web of illusion which the wily Calypso had woven around his affections ;-and kolding the microscopic glass of reason to his eye, he could no longer see those bright colours of love which he so lately saw, through a fairy telescope, in the magical tissue. Remorse and self-reproach made him curse his mad infatuation, and despise himself for his wicked and cruel conduct to a tender and excellent wife who merited all the kindness that connubial affection could bestow; all the fond endearing attention that her purity and sensibility of heart deserved. In this mood of mind he was on the point of returning to Mary, to confess his faults, and crave her forgiveness, when his Mercury handed him the following billet from Julia: My dear Henry : Carlingford, Sunday night. "Say, is not absence death to those that love ?" I am, according to your wishes, sequestered in the woodland solitude of Carlingford.* Hasten, my friend! my more than friend, my lover, beloved beyond CARLINGFORD, a very ancient town, in the county of Louth, is situated on the western side of the fine bay of the same name, opposite Rosstrevor, embosomed in picturesque and lofty mountains, which rise in a pile, one above another, from the sea. This place is remarkable for producing the most delicious oysters in the United Kingdom. The harbour is very deep and capacious and being protected by a crescent of mountains, ships of war can safely come to anchor in it. It is a grand arm of the sea, being four miles square. Here are the ruins of a fine castle, which was built by Ralph Pepper, in honour of King John, A. D. 1204. This Ralph was brother of Roger Pepper, who built the castle of Ardee, 1207, and of William, who also built the castle of Trim, which is still called King John's Castle. Carlingford Castle must have been a very strong pile of buildings, and seems by its situation to have been designed to defend a narrow pass at the foot of the mountain, close by the sea, where but a very few men can march abreast; as on one side are dangerous rocks and a deep sea; and on the other, towering mountains of the elevation of eight hundred yards perpendicular. Its foundation rests on a solid rock, washed by the sea, and some of its walls are eleven feet thick, which are composed of cut limestone. Carlingford, in the "olden time," must have been a town of castles, as it is full of castellated ruins. There are to be seen here, also, the magnificent ruins of a large monastery, and the ivy-covered remains of a church. This town is much frequented by fishing-boats; but it has little or no trade, owing, we presume, to its contiguity to the town of Newry, the great mart of commerce, from which it is distant only six miles. We do not know of a more pleasant road in Ireland than that which runs on the verdant margin of the canal, from Carlingford to Newly, as the prospect of sea and mountain scenery is truly romantic and picturesque. VOL. I.-43. expression, hasten to your Julia, and bring her words that will gladden her heart: tell me that no wife shall riva! me in your affection. Surely you are too much alive to sensibility, to let your cold constrained submission to a wife invalidate the claims of love? Come, and assure me a thousand times, that your heart will only be bound by my rosy fetters, the silken bonds of reciprocal passion. What is a wife, but a tame subjugated female, a mere animal of the household hearth, a chimney-corner goddess, who should be content with the dull uniformity of domestic worship, but who never imparts the ecstacy of genuine love. Hasten to my bower, and convince me that I am sole mistress of your heart. Passion cannot brook delay come, and bid the flowers of joy spring up again in my desolate heart. I can be happy only in your presence. Your smile is the sunbeam of my bosom. Farewell.-Ever your fond JULIA. As soon as he had read this impassioned effusion of affectation, he resolved to see Julia once more, for the purpose of bidding her adieu for ever. Meanwhile, poor Mary was suffering under all the agonies of feeling, to which Henry's unmanly conduct had reduced her; and on her maid coming in the morning to dress her as usual, she found her so seriously indisposed, that she deemed it advisable to call in a physician. Mary's waiting maid, Martha Murphy, was a legitimate daughter of Paul Pry's, for she generally discovered mysterious secrets by her powers of hearing and seeing; so that by this inquisitive faculty, she became acquainted with all that passed between her master and mistress, on the preceding night, and, like Blair's ghost, "blabbed out" the whole affair to her sweetheart, Colonel T's footman, who, in half an hour, told it to two or three more of his friends, so that, by mid-day, it was as public in Rosstrevor and Warren Point, as if it had been published in the Newry Telegraph. By this means it reached the ears of Major S. of the 68th Regiment, who was a near relative of Mary's, and a gallant soldier, who eminently distinguished himself in Spain, and at the battle of Waterloo. This brave officer, on hearing the story, was fired with indignation, and in the vehement irritation of his feelings, he wrote the following challenge to Henry: Newry Barracks, Tuesday night,-1820. Sir: Your aggressive and attrocious insult offered to your injured wife, my late worthy uncle's daughter, and the most amiable and virtuous of women, has been so wanton, unprovoked, and deliberately flagitious, that no man of honour could be guilty of such baseness;-none but an assassin could even meditate a deed of such unprecedented wickedness. If cowardice is not numbered, Sir, in the decalogue of your characteristic vices, you will appoint a friend to make arrangements with Captain B—, who will deliver you this, relative to a meeting, which it is absolutely necessary you and I should have, at an early hour to-morrow morning, at any place in the vicinity of this town, or Warren Point, that your friend may appoint. I have the honour to be, Sir, HENRY O—, Esq. The moment Henry read the Major's letter, whose cutting severity thrilled all his nerves with the fire of indignation, he lost no time in fixing on the hour and place of combat. Early on the following morning, the hostile parties met in a field, in the rear of Colonel Ross's house, and on taking their ground, it was agreed between the seconds, that the belligerants should fire by signal at the same instant, which they |