Year: 1871

mented the stern policy that dictated
| his execution. s..
| But there was one heart whose an.
guish itwould beimpossible to describe
In happier days and fairer fortunes he
had won the affections Of beautiful
and interesting girl, the daughter of a
late celebrated Irish barrister. She low
ed him with the disinterested fervor Of
a woman's first and early love. When
every worldly maxim arrayed itself
against him; when blasted in fortune,
1 and disgrace and danger darkened
around his name, she loved him the
more ardently for his very suferings. Il
then, his fate could awaken the sympathy
even of his foes, what must have been
the agony of her, whose whole soul was
occupied by his image! Let those tell
who have had the portals of the tomb
suddenly closed between them and the
being they loved most on earth-who
have sat at its threshold, as one shut
out in the cold and lonely world, from
whence all that was most lovely and
loving had departed.


But then the horrors Of such grave
so frightful, dishonored there was
nothing for memory to dwell on that
could soothe the pang of separation
none of those tender though melanchol-
1ly circumstances that endear the part
ing scene-nothing to melt sorrow into
those blessed tears sent, like the dews
| of heaven, to revive the. heart in the
parting hour of anguish.


To render her widowed situation
more desolate, she had incurred her
| fathers displeasure by her unfortunate
attachment, and was an exile from the
paternal roof. But could the sympathy
and kind Offices of friends have reached
spirit SO shocked and driven in by
horror, she would have experienced no
want of consolation, for the Irish are a
people OF quick and generous sersibili-
ties. The most delicate and cherishirg
attentions were paid her by families Of
wealth and distinction. She was led
into society, and they triedby all kinds
of occupation and amusement to dissi-
pate her grief and wean her from the
tragical story of her lover. But it was
all in vain. There are some strokes of
calamity that scathe and scorch the
soul-that penetrate to the vital sea Of
happiness-and blast it, never again to
put forth bud or blossom. She never
objected to frequent the haunts of plea
sure, but she was as much alone there
as in the depths Of solitude. She walk
ed about in sad revery, apparently
unconscious of the world around her.
She carried with her an inward woe
that Knocked all the Establishments Of
friendship, and "heeded not the song
of the charmer, charm he ever so
wisely"


The persons who told me her story
had seen her at masquerade. There
can be NO exhibition of far gone wretch
edness more striking and painful than
to meet it in such scene. To find it
wandering like a spectre, lonely and
joyless, where all around is gay-to see
it dressed out in the trappings of mirth,
and looking SO wan and woe-begone, as
if it had tied in vain to cheat the poor
heart into momentary forgetfulness of
sorrow. After strolling through the
splendid room and giddy crowd with
an air of utter abstraction, she sat her
self down on the steps Of an orchestra,
and, looking about for some time with
a vacant air, that showed her insensi-
bility to the garish scene, she began,
with the capriciousness Of sickly heart,
to warble a little plaintive air. She
had an exquisite voice; but on this oc-
casion it was so simple, so touching, it
breathed forth such soul of wretch
edness, she drew crowd mute and ST.
lent around her, and melted every one
to tears.


The story of one so true and tender
could not but excite great enterest in
country remarkable for enthusiasm. 1t
completely won the heart of a brave
officer, who paid his addresses to her
and thought that one so true to the
dead could not but prove affectionate
to the living. She declined his atten-
tion, for her thoughts were irrevocably
engrossed by the memory Of her former
lover. He, however, persisted in his
suit. He solicited not her tenderness,
but her esteem. He was assisted by
her conviction of his worth, and her
sense of her own destitute and depen-
dent situation, for she was existing on
the kindness Of friends. In word, he
at length succeeded in gaining her
hand, though with the solemn assur-
ance that her heart was upalterably an
others.


He took her with him to Sicily, hop
ing that change Of scene might wear
out the remembrance of early woes.
She was an amiable and exemplary
wife, and made every effort to be a hap
py one; but nothing could cure the 81
lent and devouring melancholy that had
entered into her very soul. She vast
ed away in slow, but hopeless decline,
and at length sunk into the grave, the
victim of a broken heart.


1t was on her that Moore, the distin-
guished Irish poet, composed the fol-
lowing lines:


She is far from tho land where her young hero


sleeps,


And lovers around her are sighiug,
But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps,


For her heart in his grave is lying.


She sings the wild songs Of her dear native plains,


Every note which be loved awaking-


All little they think, who delight in her strains,