to the holy angels, what would happen. And ye didn't tell me, because ye thought I didn't care! Well, I forgive ye-I forgive ye, boys! I didn't neglect her though, for all that; my heart was set on another matter. There is but one thing she can spake on, one thing I can spake on-and it is better we shouldn't-but, when she does look at me, though my little girl strives to keep it under, there is in her eyes what says, 'If ye'd spoken the truth long ago, it's a happy wife I'd be now, instead of Oh, God! -oh, God!" he exclaimed passionately, "that I should have suffered such a snake to fatten on the land, when I could have crushed him under my heel! I'd have rest in my grave if I could see him in his. I'll go meet her, boys. You should have gone before." And the farmer stalked forth, and silently mounting his cob, proceeded on the road to Ferry Carrig.

There are mysteries around us, both night and day, for which it would be difficult indeed to account: the impulse that drew Sydney that morning to the banks of the Slaney was, and ever must be, unaccountable.

"Nurses," she said to her faithful friend Essy, after they crossed the bridge, and, quitting the coach-road, made unto themselves a path along the bank—“ nurses like you, Essy, may be called the brides'-maids of death; and you have been my nurse all through this sickness." Essy afterwards said she did not know what there was in those words to make her cry, but she could not answer for weeping. The two girls wandered on, Sydney stopping every now and then to look into the depths and shallows of the river, and prying beneath every broad green leaf and clump of trees that overhung its banks. More than once they sat down, and more than once did Essy propose their return, but Sydney went on, as if she had not spoken. At last they came to a species of deep drain, almost overgrown with strong, tall, leafy water-plants, that was always filled when the tide was full in. Essy sprang lightly over it, and then turning a little way up to where it was narrower, she extended her hand to her feeble friend. Although the gulf was narrow, it was very deep; the root of a tree had formed a natural dam across it, so that much water was retained. As Sydney was about to cross, she cast her eyes beneath, started, and held back. She did not speak, but, with her hand pointed downwards, Essy's shriek rang through the air-the face of Ralph Furlong stared at them from the bottom of the silent pool!

Had she not removed the broad leaves of a huge dock that shaded the water, so that Sydney's footing might be sure, the unconscious girl would have stept, without knowing it, over her lover's liquid grave. Essy was so overwhelmed with horror, that she ran shrieking towards the highway; several minutes elapsed before she returned with assistance; and then where was Sydney! The faithful girl, in endeavouring to draw his body from the waters, had fallen in; her head was literally resting on

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his bosom, and her long beautiful hair floating like a pall above them!

They were buried in the same grave!

When Murphy's cottage was searched by the police, the only weapon, if so it could be called, which they discovered, was a broken reaping-hook; this James Harragan had taken to his own house, and under the folds of poor Ralph's coat, those who prepared him for his earthy grave discovered the missing portion. The farmer was seen to shed no tear over his daughter, but registered an oath in heaven that he would never take rest upon his bed until he had brought the murderer to justice. Within a week after, he relinquished his farm to his sons, and it is believed he journeyed to foreign lands in pursuit of one who, in the first instance, escaped justice through James Harragan's own weak and almost wicked perseverance in a wrong cause. Years have passed since the melancholy event occurred, and no tidings have ever reached the county relative to Harragan or the murderer. Well, indeed, might he have remembered Mr Herrick's warning. The farmer had, by withholding his information, refused to pluck out the arrow which an unseen hand had planted in the bosom of an excellent and industrious man, and the same power had been employed to overthrow his happiness for ever!**

THE SCHOOLMASTER'S DREAM.†

AN IRISH TALE, BY MRS S. C. HALL.

JAMES O'LEARY was a schoolmaster of great learning, and still greater repute; his school was the most crowded of any school within fifty miles of Killgubbin-yet he modestly designated it his "Small College," and his pupils "his thrifle of boys." O'Leary never considered "the Vulgarians"-as he termed those who only learned English, writing, and arithmetic-worth counting. No boy, in his estimation, merited naming or notice until he entered Virgil; he began his school catalogue with "the Vargils;" but was so decidedly proud of "the Homarians," that he often regretted he had no opportunity of "taking the shine out of thim ignorant chaps up at Dublin College" by a display of his "Gracians”—five or six clear-headed, intelligent boys, whose brogues were on their tongue; whose clothes hung upon

* Reprinted from Chambers's Edinburgh Journal.

This interesting sketch was communicated originally to Hood's Magazine, from which it has been obligingly transferred by the authoress for a more extensive publication in these pages.-Ed.

them by a mystery; and yet, poor fellows! were as proud of their Greek, and as fond of capping Latin verses, as their master himself.

James O'Leary deserved his reputation to a certain extent, as all do who achieve one. In his boyhood he had been himself a poor scholar, and travelled the country for his learning; he had graduated at the best hedge school in the kingdom of Kerry,*

Mrs Hall, in the elegantly embellished work, "Ireland; its Scenery, Character," &c. presents some amusing particulars respecting "poor scholars," and the schools which they were in the habit of attending. "Hedge schools" abounded principally in Kerry, but are now rapidly disappearing, along with the dominies who superintended them, their place being occupied by the better-conducted National schools. "The ancient dominies, however (observes Mrs Hall), had their merit; they kept the shrivelled seed of knowledge from utterly perishing. * * * The Irish schoolmaster is now paid by the state, and not by 'sods of turf,' 'a kish of praties,' ," a dozen of eggs,' or at Christmas and Easter 'a roll of fresh butter;' for, very commonly, there was no other way of liquidating his quarterly accounts: yet this mode of payment was adopted eagerly on the one side, and received thankfully on the other, in order that the gorsoon might have his bit of learning, to keep him up in the world.' The English of the lower classes covet knowledge, but only as a source of wealth; an Irishman longs for it as a means of acquiring moral power and dignity. Rise up yer head, here's the master; he's a fine man with great larning;' 'Whisht! don't be putting in your word, sure he that's spaking has fine larning; Sure he had the world at his foot from the strength of the larning A grate man entirely, with a power of larning; No good could ever come of him, for he never took to his larning;'What could you expect from him? since he was the size of a midge he never looked in a book; such are the phrases continually in the mouths of the Irish peasantry utter worthlessness is invariably supposed to accompany a distaste for information; while he who has obtained even a limited portion of instruction, is always considered superior to his fellows who are without it, and precedence on all occasions is readily accorded to him. Those who would teach the Irish, have, therefore, a fine and rich soil upon which to work. "Hedge schools' received their peculiar designation from the fact, that in fine weather the schoolroom was always removed out of doors; the dominie sat usually beside his threshold; and the young urchins, his pupils, were scattered in all directions about the landscape, poring over the 'Gough' or 'Voster' (the standard arithmeticians of Ireland long ago), scrawling figures on the fragments of a slate, courting acquaintance with the favoured historian, Cornalius Napos, or occupied upon the more abstruse mysteries of the mathematics; the more laborious and persevering of the learners generally taking their places, 'book in hand,' upon, or at the base of, the turf rick, that was always within the master's ken. In addition to the pupils who paid to the teacher as much as they could, and in the coin most at their command, there were generally in such establishments some who paid nothing, and were not expected to pay anything-poor scholars,' as they were termed, who received education 'graatis,' and who were not unfrequently intended, or rather intended themselves, for the priesthood. They were, in most instances, unprotected orphans; but they had no occasion to beg, for the farmhouse as well as the cottage was open for their reception, and the 'poor scholar' was sure of a 'God save you kindly,' and Kindly welcome,' wherever he appeared. In this way, with scant clothing, a strap of books over his shoulder, his inkhorn suspended from

and at one time had an idea of entering Maynooth; but fortunately or unfortunately, as it might be, he lost his vocation by falling in love and marrying Mary Byrne, to whom, despite a certain quantity of hardness and pedantry, he always made a kind husband, although Mary, docile and intelligent in every other respect, never could achieve her A B C; this he was fond of instancing as a proof of the inferiority of the fair sex. James looked with the greatest contempt at the system adopted by the National schools, declaring that Latin was the foundation upon which all intellectual education should be raised, and that the man who had no Latin was not worthy of being considered a man at all.

Donnybeg, the parish in which he resided, was a very remote, silent district-an isolated place, belonging chiefly to an apoplectic old gentleman, whose father having granted long leases on remunerating terms, left him a certain income, sufficient for himself, and not distressing to others. The simple farmers had so long considered Master O'Leary a miracle, and he confirmed them in this opinion so frequently, by saying in various languages what they had not understood if spoken in the vernacular, that when a National school was proposed in the parish by some officious person, they offered to send up their schoolmaster, attended by his Latin and Greek scholars-tail fashion-to "bother the boord." This threw James into a state of such excitement, that he could hardly restrain himself; and indeed his wife does not hesitate to say, that he has never been "right" since.

The old landlord was as decided an enemy to the National school system as James himself; and the matter dropped without O'Leary's having an opportunity of "flooring the boord," which he bitterly_regrets. James, for many years after his establishment at Donnybeg, was exceedingly kind to the itinerant class of scholars, of whose merits he was so bright an example. For a long time his college was the refuge of every poor scholar, who received gratuitous instruction from "the Master," and the attention and tenderness of a mother from "the Mistress." This generosity on the part of James O'Leary increased his reputation, and won him a great many blessings from the poor, while pupils thronged to him from distant parts of the kingdom-not only the itinerant scholar,

his button-hole, and two or three ill-cut inky pens stuck in the twist or twine that encircled his hat, the aspirant for knowledge set forth on his mission, sometimes aided by a subscription commenced and forwarded by his parish-priest, who found many of his congregation willing to bestow their halfpence and pence, together with their cordial blessings, on 'the boy that had his mind turned for good.' Now and then a good-for-nothing' would take upon himself the habit and name of a 'poor scholar,' and impose upon the good-natured inhabitants of a district; but in a little time he was sure to be discovered, and was never again trusted."

but the sons of snug farmers, who boarded in his neighbourhood, and paid largely for the classics and all accomplishments. This James found very profitable: in due time he slated his house, placing a round stone as a "pinnacle" on either gable, representing, the one the terrestrial, the other the celestial globe; he paved the little courtyard with the multiplication-table in black and white stones; and constructed a summer-house, to use his own phrase, on "geometrical principles," whose interior was decorated with maps and triangles, and every species of information. If pupils came before, they "rained on him” after his "Tusculum" was finished; and he had its name painted on a Gothic arch above the gate, which, such was the inveteracy of old habits, always stood open for want of a latch. But somehow, though James's fortunes improved, there was something about his heart that was not right; he began to consider learning only valuable as a means of wealth; he became civil to rich dunces; and continually snubbed a first-rate " Gracian," ," who was, it is true, only a poor scholar. This feeling, like all others, at first merely tolerated, gained ground by degrees, until Master O'Leary began to put the question frequently to himself-"Why he should do good, and bother himself so much, about those who did no good to him?" He had never ventured to say this out aloud to any one, but he had at last whispered it so often to himself, that one evening, seeing Mary busily occupied turning round some preparation in a little iron pot, reserved for delicate stir-about, gruel, or a sup of broth"-which he knew on that particular occasion was intended for the "Gracian," who had been unwell for some days after knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and closing and clasping his well-thumbed Homer, he said, Mary, can't ye sit still at the wheel, now that the day's a'most done, and nature becomes soporific?-which signifies an inclination to repose."

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"In a minute, dear; it's for poor Aby-he's sick entirely, and has no one to look to him. The place where he lodges has no convayniance for a drop of whey-and if it had, they've nothing to turn it with, and nothing to make it of-so I'll sit down at onct."

"Then why don't you sit down at once? Why do you sitwasting your time-to say nothing of the sweet milk-and the" -he was going to say "the sour," but was ashamed, and so added, "other things-for one who does no good to us?"

"No good to us!" repeated Mary, as she poured off the whey, keeping the curd carefully back with a horn spoon. "No good to us, dear?-why, it's for Aby-the-what is it you called him— Aby Gradus? No; Aby the Gracian-your top boy-as used to be he that his old grandmother (God help us! he had no other kith or kin)—walked ten miles just to see him stand at the head of his class, that she might die with an easy heart-it's for him, it is

"Well,” replied the master, "I know that; I know it's for him