"Send for him up stairs," cried the baronet; "but no, no,” he added vaguely, "that were too degrading." "I have a paper also," said the priest slowly, "which Mr. Willoughby compelled his wife to sign, in which all is confessed; and this he did, fearing that you would call him to account for his desertion of her, to be produced in the last resort." The baronet started, and fixed his eyes upon the priest earnestly. "I shall go mad," he said, "but not yet. I am here, Courtenay; open the paper and place it into this hand; but come not near me when I have read it, lest I tear you to pieces; keep the air from me, it weighs upon my brain. Give it to me now, now." The baronet stood with one hand tightly grasping his head, and the other outstretched at arm's length. The priest approached, and gave the paper to him. He held it firmly and gazed upon it. There was no motion of his eye when he had perused the paper. It rested upon the signature. Several minutes elapsed. "Sir Robert, Sir Robert Aylmer," cried the priest in alarm, and he approached a few paces. The baronet fell back without a groan. Courtenay drew near, and knelt down by his side. Sir Robert Aylmer was no more! THE GIANT'S STAIRS. AN IRISH STORY. Nor far from Cork is Blackrock, and not far from Blackrock is Passage, and not far from Passage are the Giant's Stairs. These consist of huge masses of rock, which have been piled upon one another by Nature so wildly and strangely as to resemble the steps which a giant would take were he to make a progress from the ground-floor up to the top story. It so happened that on a fine summer's evening, as three jolly fishermen were sitting on the shore between Blackrock and Passage, and were laughing at each other's jokes, they chose for the subject of their conversation these wonderful stairs, and one of the party elicited stares of another description from his companions by the following display of his knowledge on the subject in question. "I've heard," said he (pausing and looking round, to be certain that none were by but themselves)-I've haard that a giant once lived in that rock, and that he was very good to the poor fishermen, and the like, and that if they tuck no fish if they went to his home in the rock at night and brought with them some illigant present, he'd be polite enough the next morning to whirl the mackerel into their boats by bucketsfull." "By de powers," says another," this same giant must be a very proper gintleman." You may say that with your purty mouth, and tell no lie neither," rejoined the first spokesman. "It's a pity he an't just living there now," observed the third. "Och! and he may," said the first, "and if I knew the boys that would attind me" (said the second), "but I'll go." "And so will I too," said the third. "Why then it looks," (said the first), "as if we'd all go; now I'll tell you what we'll do boys-its getting dark, we'll loose the boat, and we'll be off just now."* This being agreed upon, after smoking a pipe or two more they proceeded towards the boat, and having entered it were speedily floating towards the place of their destination. The night set in darker than usual, and the beauteous scenery on each side of the river became mingled in huge masses of shadow. In Passage they beheld a few moving lights, which only served to make this place of ruin more discernible; they soon glided by it, and all was perfect silence, the light dipping of their own oars and the gentle and distant rolling of the tide on the shore, were all that they heard, saving the comforting tones of their own voices. At length they beheld rising in rugged solemnity and grandeur the Giant's Stairs. Each looked at his companion significantly, as much as to say, "We have reached the place where our adventures are to begin." They then proceeded to near in to the shore, the boat now grated along the pebbly shelving of the river, and Paddeen (which was the name of the proposer of this expedition) valorously leapt on the land. His two companions * A phrase invariably used in Ireland for by-and-bye. followed him, and when they had made fast the boat, they proceeded to ascend the Giant's Stairs, which it must be confessed they did, with a huge proportion of circumspection. At length they gained the top. They now paused to breathe, and looked at each other with the air of triumph supposed to be experienced by adventurous explorers when they venture into the heart of a savage country. They then proceeded cautiously down the other side of the rock, and as they were anxiously pressing forward they thought they heard voices. "Hist!" (says Paddeen) "tread on tip-toe." "On what," said his companions. "I mane go on your hands and knees," rejoined the other. They all then crept close together, scarcely daring to breathe, and Paddeen, who was determined to be foremost, crept on a little way in advance, and still declared he heard a noise. Sometimes he thought it resembled distant thunder, which he surmised could be nothing else than the giant's brathing. His other two companions proposed to raise a whilliloo, but this vocal display Paddeen would not allow-so on they went. As they proceeded the noise increased, and the ground became wet. This singular discovery our travellers were enabled to make from the circumstance of their being attired in the every-day dress of the poor people of Ireland, that is, without gloves on their feet. They, like other travellers, immediately set about accounting for every phenomenon they met with, and this they made out entirely to their satisfaction, as they one and all declared this "mountain dew" to be a sure token that they were on a right scent, as wherever that was a spirit was to be found. Just as they had drawn this conclusion they felt the ground tremble slightly beneath them, and what appeared on one side of them to be a slanting piece of the rock, gradually opened, and finally vanished altogether, leaving a vacant and dark chasm. The party gazed at each other with mute amazement. At length they took courage and resolved to explore the dismal entrance. They proceeded altogether, and looking in they beheld a flight of steps just wide enough to admit the descent of a broad-built Munster man. They were in doubt what course to pursue. They soon however determined on descending, but then a question arose among them as to who should go first, when in the midst of their cogitations a voice in the purest Milesian dialect saluted them from below, adapting the following polite invitation to a real wild Irish melody; it ran thus : "Down, down, Paddeen Hoorigan, Tim Dwyer, Dick Flannigan." "That's me, and that's you, and that's him, and by de Cove of Cork it's all of us," (says Paddeen). "Now I'm the broth of a boy that will go first, and you two spalpeens shall go next, and then we'll go altogether, and I'll just show you the way." Paddeen then put his right foot on the ladder (for such the steps really were), he next made a sign to his two companions to follow him, which they did with great gravity, and when they had all three descended to the bottom, they heard the rock close in above them with a slight noise. The next object that met their attention was a little, fat, baldheaded man, with his coat off, hard at work at a good-sized still, which was sending out smoke as rapidly as the chimney of Captain O'Brien's Cove steam-boat. They surveyed him for a short time very intently, and thought it prudent not to come upon him too suddenly; while moving along as silently and cautiously as they conveniently could, our host of the mountain broke forth in an ecstacy with "The Whishkey is getting on ilegantly." He then went round to the other side of his manufactory to see that all was progressing properly thereabouts, and the little fat man soon returned capering and singing "Twas to brew the strong drink that we paddies were made, Had better be put with a shovel to bed, With a tree at his feet, and a turf at his head. 66 "Derry down." Before the little man could accomplish a second verse, Paddeen exclaimed to his companions, "If ever any short-bodied man on two legs spoke with another man's voice, that little man spakes with the voice of ould Macarthy of Ballintemple." "Somebody's a whishpering sure," says the little man cocking his ear. "That's him" (said Paddeen listening), "That's ould Macarthy, or else he has been sprited away, and this poor crature left in his place." This exclamation was shouted forth in so loud a tone, that the little old man turned round and recognized his visitors in less than no time. "Oh, ho!" (says Paddeen,) "you are the giant are you?" "Your sarvant, Mr. Timothy Macarthy, of Ballintemple." "And pray sir, what do giants live upon hereabouts?" Why," (says Macarthy, for so in truth he was,) "what's most natteral to them. We are fairy people, and of coorse we're very fond of spirits." At this joke the fishermen thought it only consistent with the politeness of real Irish gentlemen to set up a laugh. "May be," (continues old Macarthy,) "you'd like to make the acquaintance of some of our spirits." With the greatest pleasure in life," (replies Paddeen,) "what say you boys?" "Faith and we would," exclaimed all the visitors at one and the same time. "And so you shall lads," says Macarthy, and without any more bother he made them seats around his still, this he effected by turning up a couple of tubs, and turning out a three-corner joint stool. He then supplied them with plenty of pipes and tobacco, and they soon fell to work vigorously. 66 They demolished huge quantities of the mountain dew of the little old man's brewing, and while thus laudably employed they told a choice variety of marvellous and facetious stories, and kept smoking, singing, and punch drinking until their host began to think it was high time each gentleman should consider of the propriety of putting on his night-cap. Old Macarthy accordingly ventured to give them the most delicate hint in the world, and they instantly felt that they were intruding, for be it known, that although the Irish are an illused and hard-drinking people, they possess notions of etiquette of the most sensitive description. Each made shift in his own peculiar eloquence to bid "good night" to old Macarthy, and to compliment him after the Munster fashion, M.M.-No. 5. 2 L |