all the Protestants, and sparing neither man, woman, or child," he "surceases," and "subscribes himself her

loving cousin, Glanmaliero" a degree of Hibernian gallantry scarce intelligible. But the lady had a heart of oak, and came of the stout Geraldines, her grandfather having been Gerald, the eleventh earl of Kildare; and her piety was great, and supported her, and her trust and soul's faith was in her God; and so she quailed not at his threats. But though she subscribes herself "Your poor kinswoman, Lettice Offally" (she was Baroness Offalia by creation from James I., and had the whole Geraldine blood in her single person), yet she was able to say that "God will take a poor widow into his protection from all those that, without cause, are risen up against her."

Whereupon Lewis, the beleaguerer, waxed wroth, and plants against the castle. Oh! for one hour of Old Noll's able gunners, to "teach him a trick" of offence a great piece of ordnance, to the making of which went, as it was credibly reported, seven score pots and pans, which was cast by an Irishman from Athboy three times, before they brought it to "that state of perfection it had at Geashil." (Query-Is this the original of the "Great Gun of Athlone," with a slight change of titular geography?) But this unlucky cannon burst asunder at the first discharge, scattering the O'Dempsies, no doubt, and making the clansmen run, and harming the assailers more than the assaulted. Whereupon Lewis, who appears to have been as maladroit with his pen as he was with his gun, indites the noble lady another epistle, in which he tells her to expect no "further favour at his hands;" and "so I rest, your ladyship's loving cousin, Lewis Glanmaliero!" Another of the O'Dempsies, namely, Charles, was now set upon Lady Digby, and addressed to her a long note of a most insolent nature. But, in despite of all, she held the place gallantly and effectually till, on the arrival of the royal troops in October, 1642, under Lord Lisle, or Sir Richard Grenville, the siege was abandoned, and the O'Dempsie army separated and fled to their fastnesses. This Lettice, Baroness of Offalia, was lineal ancestress to the representatives of much Irish talent. Her grandson, Dr. Simon Digby, Bishop of Elphin,

was a gifted artist. His eldest daughter married one of Archbishop Marsh's sons, from whom our Sir Henry Marsh derives his descent. His second daughter, Lettice Digby, was wife to the Rev. William Brooke, and mother to Henry Brooke, the poet, and grandmother to Miss Charlotte Brooke, the Irish bardess. From another child descended our valued friend, Digby Pilot Starkey, the author of "Theoria," and many a paper of varied literature and philosophy in this MAGAZINE ; the poet of thought and refinement thoroughly accomplished man and mind. From another of Bishop Digby's children descend the Sadlier family, rich in collegiate honours and scholarship. I may be permitted to relate an anecdote of one of them. Some years ago, the late Provost Sadlier met a grey-headed peasant beneath the wall of Geashil Castle, and, engag. ing him in conversation, he proved to be an O'Dempsy. So here, after a lapse of over two hundred years, meet together a descendant of either contending party-the Saxon lady and the Celtic lord the contending cousins-the assailed and the assailant; in peace, but in great difference of condition. A miniature likeness of this thrice noble Lady Digby is in the possession of his Grace the Duke of Leinster; and her honoured remains await the archangel's trump in St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin. There is little in the mere ruins of Geashil Castle to interest; the history attached to the place is its only charm. We should have regretted even having gone there, on the principle of "Le jeu ne vaut pas la Chandelle," were it not for the wit and comicality of our driver, which kept us in continual merriment, as story after story escaped from his lips (interrupted by an occasional objurgation addressed to his steed.) These stories he told in a fine, clear, musical brogue, which sounded high above the noise of his wheels, and was perfectly audible to us, as we sat on either side of his Irish car.

We were passing through some bog land when he proceeded to sound the glories of his native Bog of Allen. I had read how in the projector's college at Laputa gunpowder was extracted from calcined ice; and so I was not astonished that in the alembic of an Irishman's brain, a droll story could be furnished from the dull and flat

Ir was in the spring of the year 18, that we had great election doings in Ireland, and plenty of hard knocks and broken heads at the pollbooths the people bating each other for the love of their country, as was but natural. Counsellor O'Connell was then alive, glory be to him, and came down to our town expriss, in his bottle-green chaise, with the hammercloth, and his supporthers on the carriage-door, just like a lord, as the same Dan ought to have been, if there was any justice for ould Ireland. Well, he dined at the "D. Arms," and afterwards made an elegant narration out of the windy of the hotel; and a fine spaiker was the counsellor, for he would turn you, and twine you, and wind you which way he plaised; and then he would make you angry-and then he make you plaised and then he would say something so paythettick that the coarsest and manliest fellow in the crowd would have the tears as big as peas running down his face; and then again, in two minutes, he would have the whole of us breaking our hearts laughing at his wit and stories. Well, on this occasion he told us we were hurroo - dattery bondsmen; that green Erin was a Jim on the say; and that we must "strike a blow," which indeed the boys were very willing to do, even though the counsellor had not mentioned it, but there was nobody there to bate. Well, my dear, after that there were four posters put to his carriage, and off he went to Tullamore. The boy who rode the leaders was myself, and indeed we galloped the whole stage, the counsellor shelling out the halfcrowns like a raal Irish gentleman, and sitting up in the dickey, for the day was fine, talking to ould Tom Steele, who was in his blue military coat and goldlaced cap, the craythur. Well, it was back I had to come in the morning, and when I brought the horses home again who should I see but the new dane (Anglice, dean) waiting in the yard for a car, to cross the seven-mile bog-road between this and the little village of B. He was a stranger

in the country, an Englishman-a tall lusty man, with a long, yellow, flat face, the colour of a lemon, and a great big chin, which he kept buried up alive in his white cravat. He was tutor in a lord's family, and being all for plaizing the Government, and doing what they liked, the Lord Lieutenant, of course, made him a dane, which was but natural; and very like the same Danes he was, or something belonging to them, for he was tall, and round, and stiff, and rather ould, and a trifle grey, which, your honour knows, the round towers of the Danes are, whatever sort they might have been who built them. Well, to make a long story short, he wanted a car to cross the bog; and he cries to the mistress, in his quare English voice

"My good woman, I see your osses have come, and I cawn't stop longer, for I'm engaged," says he, "to lunch at the Heronry,'" says he.

Now this was Squire B--'s place, just beyant B--; and all the yard had it that the dane was going to coort Miss Annie, the squire's eldest daughter, a young craythur, and the purtiest, and sprightliest, and innocentest little lady in the whole county; but my old mother, Peggy M'Cabe, who was the squire's own nurse, used to get angry on hearing such talk, and say, that "Miss Annie would never take him, the sheepish ould gomeril." Well, my dear, be that as it may, there he was, in opprobious personibus, as the skoolmaster says, a standing in the yard, and telling us

"I cawn't wait longer." "You shall have a car in a minute, sir," says the mistress.

With that she ordered me to rub down one of the posters, and to rowl out the ould green car from the shed. The cocks and hens had been roosting on it for many a long day, but it was the only vayhicle to be had for love, law, or money, the rest being off to the election.

"Barney," says the mistress, "fling a couple of buckets from the pump over the ould car," says she, and freshen it a little," says she, "and put

down my own drab cushion on one side," says she, "and be sure," says she, "that you mind to go aisy with it acrass the bog," says she, "for though the road is soft, more luck for us," says she, "yet the dane is heavy, and the wheels is rotten."

So off we went, my dear, acrass the bog, my gentleman sitting up as grand on the drab cushion as if he was an archbishop, and as stiff and studdy as if it was the Rock of Cashel he was upon. The first three miles was a good bit of smooth road enough, and I really began to conceit myself that the ould car would hould on and not go to pieces, with quiet driving and looking out for the ruts. But the dane, he got fidgetty, for the day was changing, and it began to drizzle.

"Cawn't you get on?" says he, "that's a good strong punch of a oss,' says he; "cawn't you make him go fawster ?"

I was turning round to answer him, when thump came the wheel against a thief of a stone, and off rolled the iron shoeing from it, and crack went spokes, and axle, and all, and down went the car, pitching the dane and his pockmanty clane into the dirty road, though he was not a bit hurt, only a scraped shin, and terribly frightened, and angry, and abusing all Ireland and the Irish, to be sure, because an ould car could not carry his own big four heavy quarters.

"This is a most rascally ewent," says he. "Oh dear! oh dear! how shall I ever fulfil," says he, "my hengagement at the 'Eronry?" says he, and my gaiter is burst," says he, and my shin is all bleeding, and it's coming on an orrible wet day," says the poor craythur.

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Well, of coorse, we were in the hoith of distress, when who should come trotting up but my uncle Thomas, in the low-backed car, with the old mammy nurse, my mother, and an empty turf creel, with a young calf standing in it, which they had bought at the fair of Philipstown.

"Get on the car," says my mother; "it is your only chance, Mr. Dane,” says she, "of getting to the squire's, unless you would like," said she, "to remain in the bog all night, and be aiten by the leeches, and the frogs, and blind worms, and torpaydos, and crackowldiles, and the sea serpents, and other raptiles, who frequent in

vast abundance this Bog of Allen," says she; for ould Molly was a knowledgable woman, and was wonderful at the talk, and used to read a power of learned books when she would be nursing the squire's lady in her confinement; "and its coming on across the bog a black pelt of rain," says she.

So, my dear, up he got on uncle's car, looking very pale and vexed, and all brown with the bog-mould, where he had fallen. My uncle put the drab cushion under him, and off they started, little Kitty, the grey powney, trotting out manfully, only she could not do that, seeing she was a mare, and of the fay male race. Well, my dear, they had not gone fifty yards when the dane roared out to stop.

"Oh!" says he, "I am so shuck!" says he; "are there no springs to this orrible wayicle?" says he.

"Sorrow to the spring," says ould Molly; "but man alive never fear, the shafts are strong," says she, and we won't break down, like that ould green fiddle-case you came in, lying there on the road," says she.

"Oh!" says the dane, putting his hand on the small of his back, "I have a touch of the limber-ague ever since I had the fay vor," says he, "and the jolting of the 'orrid car is destroying me," says he. "I cawn't stand it," says he.

"But stand it you must," says the ould woman. "If you stand up, the joulting won't be so uneasy wid ye, and you won't feel the limber-ague,' says she. "Here, get into this creel with the calf and me. Take hould by the rail, and just rise and sink on your toes as the car joults you," says she, "and you'll be very nearly as aisy," says she "I hope so at all events as if you were saited on the cushion of the squire's curricle," says the old woman, trying to slewther up the misfortunate craythur, and make him as happy as it was possible in the midst of all his throubles.

With that he gets into the creel; and, as it never rains but it pours in the red Bog of Allen, so down came the thickest and heaviest of showers beating in their faces, till, in ten minutes, they had not a dry stitch on them; and the harder it rained, the faster went Kitty the mare with the car at her tail, as if anxious to get home to her dry stable, the craythur! "Oh!" cries the dane.

"What's the matter now?" says the mammy nurse, as she sat in the creel a-smoking her pipe.

"I'm so c-o-w-l-d," says he, "and I'm wet to the skin," says he, "and my back's bruck," says he.

Well, my mother had a bran new red cloak under her in the straw, which she had bought at the fair that day, and was sitting on to keep it dry and clane; and out she pulls it.

"Put on this," says she, "it will raich near to your knees; it has an ilegant hud and strong strings," says she; "and I will tie it round your neck," says the ould woman, "and under your chin, and it will keep the hait in you," says she.

Well, my dear, the dane got into the red cloak with difficulty; yet still when Kitty would bump the car against a stone, or splash it into a rut, he would cry

"Oh, my back! oh, go heasy! go heasy! oh, don't joult me so hard!” says he, "for I'm in haggony with my back."

"Take hould of me," says the ould woman, for she pitied the way he was in. "Take a grip of me, and you'll not be so shuck," says she.

So he clutched her by her cap, and her head, and her shoulders, the rain battering in his face, for it was a regu lar plump and storm, and a quare skimming-bowl of a hat he wore was running down water before and behind, like the chapel spout on a wet day, the red cloak flying off his showlders, and the foolish omadhwaun of a calf standing behind him, munching at his torn gaiter, and rubbing her head against the calves of his legs. Presently my uncle cried-"Hurroo ! there is B- Steeple ;" but, my dear, the word was scarce out of his mouth when a large riding party came clattering up after us; and, to be sure, if it wasn't the squire, and the children on their ponies, and Miss Annie herself on her blood mare, Cindherella-all of them wet, but looking so well after their gallop, and laugh, ing as if their hearts would break. Up they pulled, and my uncle stopped, too, to speak to his landlord.

"Why, Thomas," says the squire, "how dare you bring out the nurse,' says he, "in all this rain?" says he.

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"But, for goodness sake," says the master, "who is that in the creel, with the calf and the red cloak? Is

it a cardinal you have brought over from Rome?" says he, joking; for, my dear, the poor misfortunate dane was so ashamed of being cotched that way by the quality that he covered his face in the cloak, and when at last he dhropp'd it, I thought at first the squire would have died with the laughing. But he was the raal gentleman all out; and so, rekivering himself, he told Miss Annie and the children to gallop to the house in all haste, and order out the pony phayton to fetch the dane home; and I believe the same young lady was overjoyed to get away, for my mother was watching her out of the creel, and often told me that she expected every minute to see her fall out of her side-saddle, with the fair laughing, and thrying to hide it. Well, my dear, they got him home in the phayton to the Heronry, and dried and comforted him, and the thing was kept very quiet, for the family were of the ancient stock, and had too much of the genteel dhrop in them to aggravate the poor gentleman who was under their own roof. But, unfortunately, the dane would be tormenting Miss Annie by his coorting; and, though he never had the laist encouragement from the same little beauty, who cared for nothing but her pianny, and teaching her Sunday-school childre, and visiting the poor ould cottagers, and reading good books to them, and then jumping on Cindhe rella, and galloping like mad round and round the lawn, and over the Haha, too, in elegant style, yet the dane had that concaite in himself that he thought she liked him, and so, my dear, one morning when they were in the library together (and who should be behind the big red screen a-dusting the bookshelves, and, of course, peeping at them, as was but nathural, but the old mammy nurse), and my gentleman goes down on his knees on the carpet to make his proposhals to the little lady, when, lo! and behold you, she burst out laughing in his face. So he gets very pale and angry; and then she was sorry and said. "Oh! Mr. Dane, you must excuse me," said she; "it is very rude, and I won't do it any more," said she, bursting out again. Pray do pardon me," said she, going off a third time. "But," said she, "I never see you look so mellacolly as you do now," says she, trying to smother another kink which

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was coming on; but I cannot help thinking of the turf bog, where we overtook you, and the creel," says she, "and the calf, and old Molly, and— oh my, oh my-the red cloak. Oh! I'll die with laughing," says she; and with that up she bounces and runs out of the room, leaving the dane on his knees in a great rage, which was foolish in him, because Miss Annie was only a young craythur, and little better than a child, as the squire said when he was trying to quiet him. But he left the house that night, and there was an end of his coorting with us, for in six months he was married to the Clerk of the Crown's only daughter, and died, poor man, afterwards of a conswimption, which he tuck at the Queen's crownation in London, being

always a delicate, donny creature, and not fit for any hardship. But the car, and the calf, and the red cloak, and old mammy nurse smoking her pipe in the rain, and the poor clergyman of a dane, dripping with water, and his teeth chattering with cold, and joulting up and down in the creel, and with both hands holding on fast by the ould woman's cap and shoulders; that was a good joke and story with the poor squire till the day of his death, when the poor lost a raal friend, the family a loving and tender companion, and the world a good and pleasant gentleman.

"That is a fair story of yours, my friend," said Captain Basil; "but I think I ought to know one which would match it."

B.

MOSSES UPON

GRAVE-STONES.

As mountains are measured by angles diverging from a single point, so, I perceive, men span the magnitude of events by such lines only as shoot straight from the centre of individual interest: according as, at this particular point, the angles be great or small, is the object in the distance set down for an alp or a molehill. But I must not omit to mention, with due solemnity, a circumstance which undoubtedly appeared with alpine proportions on the bounded horizon of all the indwellers of- I had not set foot far out of doors, before a certain whisper in the village was borne to me by more than one Iris and Mercury of the place, that the great people were leaving the great house, and for far distant parts, not soon to return.

There was, I dare boldly assert, no greater hubbub within the gates of Jerusalem, when it was said, in the streets thereof, "the gods are departing," than followed straightway on the heels of this important rumour through the lanes and alleys of

If it be possible accurately to conceive of the fluttering, and sputtering, and pee-whitting of certain small birds in some antique Indian forest of cedar or shittimwood-winged rumour hav

the village teacups. "No time to be lost," thought I, and quickened my steps to the manorhouse.

Yonder old gardens were not then the dismal waste of weeds which they have since become. The fountains played in a city of pinks and verbenas, with lavender minarets and red rosedomes, and cupolas of thick-clustered flox. The nymphs had their rightful number of arms, and legs, and fingers; peacocks paced the terraces, and flung up gorgeous rainbows of gold and purple over the tall white urns. Altogether, when the sun shone, it was a pleasant place, rich with lazy hours and fragrance. And the sun did sparkle down with cheer, in random rainy lights, among innumerable twinkling laurel-leaves, as I began to ascend the broad stone stairs that led to the