The Sun.
London, England, 1842-04-04 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

" Your kit, however, seems extensive, Phil ; that
which you carry looks to be a well• filled bundle."
" It's only the child, your honour ; the night was
cold, the mother wake, so I wrapped the baby in this
ould coat, and for it's fathers' sake kept it, the cratur, as
snug as could be."
" It's not your own, then ?"
" Divil a wife or child has Philip Brady," returned the
honest sergeant. "Ye may remember Corporal O'Toole
—he was one of the finest men in the grenadiers when
your honour had the company.
" Perfectly ; a better or braver soldier was not in the
regiment. What became of him ?"
" He died at sea, God rest his sowl ! on the second
day after we left Ostend. He was badly wounded when
put on board, poor fellow ! and we were all, men and
women, bundled into the transport like so many hounds,
short of water and provisions, and in the hurry they
forgot the surgeon too. Well, his wound mortified :
I'm off, Phii,' says he; you'll not forget the poor wife,
for my sake, and may God look down upon the orphan !
Give me your hand upon it, Phil,' says he. and he
squeezed mine with all his feeble strength. When I
came down again, his wife was hanging over the dead
body. They coaxed her, away to see the child, and
when she returned to have some comfort in crying over
the corpse, it was alreaiy overboard with two others,
who had dropped off the hooks that evening. From
that hour Toole's wife (we called him Toole for short-
ness) has pined away, and the life was barely in her
when yOur Honour, may God reward ye ! let us in."
"Why were you so late upon the road ?" inquired
the Colonel ; "in the present state of things soldiers are
no favourites, and the chances are considerable, had you
proceeded further, that you would have been way laid
and abused." _ _ .

leaks ! and I believe your honour. We were de-
layed partly_ by accident, and partly through design.
Our car broke down, the horse lost a shoe, and the rest
of the party pushed forward, laving us at a forge to get
the cart mended, and the baste shod. The smith— divil's
luck to him, the ruftin !—kept us three hours, I think on
purpose, and then they directed us astray. So when I
found the night falling, and the poor woman all but
dead, as I heard theie was a gentleman's not far off, I
heads the party here on chance, little dreaming, the
Lord knows, that I had the luck of thousands, and was
coming to my ould Colonel's, and no other."
My father was a man of prompt aAttion ,and few words.
The bell was rung, the soldiers sent to the kitchen to
refresh themselves, the child committed to the care of a
&male domestic, and carried to . the apartment whither
its dying mother had been previously removed. There,
my mother and the woman-kind of the establishment
used every means which simple skill suggested ; but al-
ready the decree had gone forth, and within an hour
after the arrival of the party the crisis came, the widow
of the dead soldier was at rest, and her babe an orphan.
"The struggle. was brief," said the priest, as he re-
entered the room, from which he had been so hastily
summoned

,Bya dying Womanj9 pray.'

May God receive her in mercy! She went cff so gently,
that though we were all about the bed, no one could tell
the moment when she departed. My lady is crying over
her as if she were a sister, and the baby steeping soundly
in Sibby Connor's arms, as if it were still resting on that
bosom which had been designed by God to be its pillow
and support."
My dither, as was his wont when anything particularly
excited him, sprang from, his chair, and strode thrice
across the chamber.—" Tell me not," he exclaimed,
" that there is not an especial providence over every
thing—ay, from the sparrow to the soldier's child. That
orphan has been sent to me,—mine it is,—mine it shall
be. Pass the wine, Doctor. Here comes madame."
• My mother timidly approached the side of her hus-
band's chair, and laid her hand upon his shoulder.
"Denis," she said, " will you be very angry with me?"
" Angry, love !" replied my. father, reproachfully.
"You never were angry with me yet. But—but—l
have done something, upon which I should have pre-
viously obtained your sanction, love."
" What was it, Emily?"
"I promised," said my mother, "the dying woman,
that her helpless child should find in you and me pro-
tectors. Hector's nurse has taken the orphan—and shall
he not be our own boy's foster brother ?"
" You did, my dear, precisely what I had determined
to have done myself."
"Before the sufferer's voice failed totally," continued
the lady, " she said that the child was still unchristened,
and prayed that rite might be performed when conve-
nient."

" There will be no difficulty in complying with her
request " replied my father ; "there are now two learned
Thebans in Knockloftie. To which of the professors
does the poor baby belong ?"
" His parents were Roman Catholics," said my mother.
" Then, Father Dominic, a cast of your office will be
necessary. Ring for Sergeant Brady—and then parade
the child."
In a few moments the non-commissioned officer and
the soldier's orphan were introduced.
"What name shall I give him ?" said the priest.
"His father's," rejoined the colonel.
" That was Marc," observed the sergeant.
" What's in a name ?" said Dr. Hamilton.
" More than one would suppose, Doctor," replied my
father. "Our red-headed adjutant married a Bath hei-
ress almost at sight, for after but a two hours' siege she
surrendered at discretion, declaring that it was utterly
impossible to hold out against. a lover whose appeliatives
were Julius Cr.:_sar." . _

five minutes the ceremon
" Then add Al ntony to his patronymic, and your
Protege will prove irresistible."
•` Marc Antony be it then," replied the priest ; and in
Roman, who °' for a queen of fifty"
retired to finish his supper below stairs, and the orphan
was complete. The sergeant
gave up a world.
uas returned to the nursery, named after that amorous

THE NEW STATISTICAL ACCOUNT OF
SCOTLAND. No. XXX VI.
The character of this work is so well known, that
further comment on the plan and details is not re-
quired, and we shall, therefore, give two extracts
from this number which contains many interesting
references to the rebellion of 1745, the victories of
Montrose, and the numerous battles fought by hostile
clans in Inverness-shire and the neighbouring coun-
ties. The following is only one proof among fifty of
the ardent devotion of the Highlanders to the house of
Stuart.
On the I6th March, 1746, (a month before the battle of

HECTOR O'HALLOI?AN. Part I. By W. H.
Maxwell.' Author of "• Stories of Waterloo, 4.c.
, Hector O'Halloran, and his foster-brother, Marc
Antony O'Toole, promise to be two of as adventur-
ous and amusing companions over a jug of smoking
poteen, as ever crossed the channel which separates
us from that region of fun, frolic, and adventure, the
Emerald Isle. We are in this Number merely intro-
duced to-them ; nevertheless, we can predict that each
of them will approve himself the " broth of a boy,"
whether in fighting, love-making, or punch-making—
all Hibernian qualifications for greatness ofthe very first
order. The story opens with great spirit. Col. O'Hal-
loran, the father of our principal hero, having lost an
arm in the service of his country, settles upon his pa-
ternal estate in a lonely part of the county of Done-
gal in the year 1795, when disaffection in the North
of Ireland was at its height. With a young wife, an
infant child, and the straggling household of an Irish
gentleman, he occupies the Castle of KnoCkloftie,
where he gives mortal offence to the peasantry, by
granting refuge to persons suspected of betraying
their leaders in rebellion into the hands of the Go-
vernment. A midnight attack upon the castle is re-
solved upon, but the one-armed Colonel, who fights
like a hero, triumphs.over force without and treachery
within. The description of the night attack of the
rebels is excessively vivid and picturesque. We pre-
fer, however, as a specimen of the story, Mr. Max-
well's account of the " birth and parentage "
of the future illustrious Marc Antony O'Toole :
In a short time " the heavy tread of marching men"
ceased, as a party of ten or twelve soldiers halted imme-
diately in front of my father's barricade.
" Stand! aho goes there?" was demanded from the
loop-hole.
" A friend," repled a voice, redolent with the richness
of the .Shannon.
" Advance, friend, and give the countersign," returned
my father, whose phraseology, from military habitude,
"still retained the parlance of the camp.
" Countersign!" responded the leader of the belated
wayfarers; "devil a countersign have I but one. If my
ould Colonel's above the sod, he's spakin to me now fair
and asy from the windy."
" Who are you?" demanded my father.
" Oh! by Jakers, you'll hardly mind me, Colonel ;
Private Phil Brady of number eight' when you had the
regiment; but now, glory be to God and good conduct,
lance sergeant in number five.'"
" What is your party, Brady?"
" Upon my conscience„ Colonel, a quare one, enough;
tin invalids, a dyin woman, and a fine man-child."
" Unclose the door, Father Dominic."
The priest lifted a heavy key from the side-board, and
proceeded to give admission to the travellers, when
Hackett, who had been hitherto an anxious listener, ven-
tured a remonstrance. " Why not," said he, " give
them meat and whisky before the door ? Every room
was already crowded with idle people, whom nobody
,would have harmed had they remained where they ought
—at home.. If the house was to be turned into an hos-
pital for sick trampers and their trulls, why every ser-
vant would quit a place liker a jail than a gentleman's.'"
Colonel O'Halloran preserved an ominous tranquillity;
and Hackett, mistaking the cause, became more inso-
lent as his speech proceeded without interruption. But
the storm burst at last.
" Villain !" said my father, in a voice which induced
the chief butler to recede some paces backwards, " dare
you, a menial, prescribe to me, yonr master, who shall
be'received and wild rejected ? Tell me that a comrade
shall be turned from my door, and recommend that the
weary soldier be ejected from the house of him under
whom he has fought and bled ! Off—we part to-morrow.
The roof of Knockloftie shall never cover for a second
night a sneaking scoundrel who has neither welcome for
a brave man nor pity for a helpless woman ;—show in
the sergeant !"
Without venturing to reply, Hackett shrank from the
presence of his angry master ; and in another minute
Sergeant Philip Brady made his military salaam, and,
with a capacious bundle in his arms, stood full front
before his ibrmer commander.
" Phil !" said the Colonel, as he examined the sol-
dier's outer man, "if I judge tightly, thou, like myself,
art but lightly indebted to the Low Countries ;" and my
father held up an empty sleeve.
" teaks ! and ye may say that, Colonel," replied the
sergeant. " All that I have gained in Holland—barrin
the stripes—is a slashed cheek, a threadbare jacket, and
a fine child."