The last-ah! she alone was proof Her heart ne'er felt the wish to join Ah! she alone of all the four, Had cause to bless the fairy's dower. A charming poem, is it not? We love to have instruction imparted in such sweet song. Yet would not three out of every four of the world choose as did the three elder maidens-wealth, beauty, genius? Is not the language of almost every heart that of Callimachus in his hymn to Jove? Χαιρέ, πατερ, χαι αυθι· δίδου δ' ἀρετην τ αφενός το Shall he ask at all; Well, but you will say-What shall man wish or ask for? or shall he leave it to the hand of Providence to dispense to him out of the treasures of wisdom and love? Hear what a heathen poet, who sat almost in the light of Christian philosophy, teaches in reply to some such question "Nil ergo optabunt homines? Si consilium vis, Nam pro jucundis aptissima quæque dabunt Di : An excellent answer for the heathen; yet will we "show you a more excellent" one, which Juvenal might have learned had he sought out Saul of Tarsus in the prison of the Mamertine, or in "his own hired house" at Rome. He would have learned that there was more truth even in the old faith of Homer-" Prayers are Jove's daughters," than in the apathy of his more modern stoicism. He would have learned a higher truth still, namely, that man is to make known to the Deity his wants "with prayer and supplication;" but that he is to understand what these wants really are, and in how small a circle they are contained. In the modera tion of a man's heart can alone be found the elements of true happiness. If his wishes range beyond those things that are needful to his physical and his spiritual requirements, most assuredly will he meet some disappointment in the unuttered prayer of his heart, for that which is beyond the legitimate scope of prayer, St. Augustine has finely said, "Ille beatus est qui omnia quæ vult habet, nec aliquid vult quod non decet." That man is indeed happy who has all that he wishes for, and who wishes for nothing that is not suitable for him. But we have wandered away somehow from our theme-from culling the wild flowers in the fields to loitering beside the fountain that flows in the temple of Truth. Nevertheless, bear with us, dear friends; the wreath will be all the brighter if a drop or two, from that pure and everlasting well, glitter like jewels amid gaudy colours and green leaves. TO THE BAY OF DUBLIN. BY DENIS FLORENCE M'CARTHY. My native Bay, for many a year 'Tis Love, methought, blind Love that pours Becomes what Love desireth: 'Tis ignorance of aught beside That throws enchantment o'er the tide, And thus, unto our mutual loss, The intervening waters Up Howth's brown sides my feet would wend, Or view thine outstretch'd arms extend Then would this spectre of my fear With floating emerald tresses: It lay o'er all, a moral mist, The moorland and the meadow. Borne many a fond memento; Misenum and Sorrento : I can look proudly in thy face, And as I kneel upon thy strand, February, 1853. SIR JASPER CAREW, KNT. HIS LIFE AND EXPERIENCES, WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF HIS OVER-REACHINGS AND SHORT-COMINGS THEREIN, NOW FIRST GIVEN TO THE WORLD BY HIMSELF. CHAPTER XVI. AN UNLOOKED FOR DISCLOSURE. ON the second day of the trial, the court-house was even more densely crowded than on the first. The rank and station which the accused had held in society, as well as the mysterious character of the case itself, had invested the event with an uncommon interest; and long before the doors were opened, a vast concourse filled the streets, amidst which were to be seen the equipages of many of the first people of the country. Scarcely had the judges taken their places, when every seat in the court was occupied the larger proportion of which displayed the rank and beauty of the capital, who now thronged to the spot, all animated with the most eager curiosity, and speculating on the result in a spirit which, whatever anxiety it involved, as certainly evinced little real sympathy for the fate of the prisoner. The bold, defiant tone which Curtis had always assumed in the world had made him but few friends, even with his own party; his sneering, caustic manner had rendered him unpopular; few could escape his censures-none his sarcasms. It would, indeed, have been difficult to discover one for whom less personal interest was felt, than for the individual who that morning stood erect in the dock, and with a calm, but stern expression, regarded the bench and the jury-box. As the court continued to fill, Curtis threw his eyes here and there over the crowded assemblage, but in no wise disconcerted by the universal gaze of which he was the object. On the contrary, he nodded familiarly to some acquaintances at a distance; and, recognising one whom he knew well in the gallery over his head, he called out "How are you, Ruxton? Let me advise you to change your bootmaker, or I wouldn't say that the Crown lawyers won't put you, one day, where I stand now !" The laugh which followed this sally YOL. XLI.NO. CCXLIII, was scarcely repressed, when the trial began. The first witness produced was a certain Joseph Martin, the solicitor at whose house Curtis had passed the evening on which the murder was committed. His evidence, of course, could throw little or no light upon the event, and merely went to establish the fact, that Curtis had stayed with him till nigh midnight, and left him about that hour to proceed to his home. When questioned as to the prisoner's manner and general bearing during that evening, he replied, that he could detect nothing strange or unusual in it; that he talked pretty much as he always did, and upon the same topics. "Did he allude to the Government, or to any of its officials?" was then asked; and, before a reply could be given, Curtis cried out "Yes. I told Martin, that if the scoundrels who rule us should only continue their present game, nobody could regret the ruin of a country that was a disgrace to live in. Didn't I say that?" "I must remind you, sir," interposed the judge, gravely, "how seriously such conduct as this is calculated to prejudice the character of your defence." "Defence! my lord," broke in Curtis, "when did I ever think of a defence? The gentlemen of the jury have heard me more plainly than your lordship. I told them, as I now tell you, that innocence is no protection to a man, when hunted down by legal blood-hounds; that' " "I must enforce silence upon you, sir, if I cannot induce caution," said the judge, solemnly; "you may despise your own safety, but you must respect this court." "You'll find that even a more difficult lesson to teach me, my lord. I can remember some eight-and-forty years of what is called the administration of justice in Ireland. I am old enough to remember when you hanged 2 B a priest who married a Protestant, and disbarred the lawyer that defended him." "Be silent, sir," said the judge, in a voice of command; and with difficulty was Curtis induced to obey the admonition. As the trial proceeded, it was remarked that Colonel Vereker was seen in close communication with one of the Crown lawyers, who soon afterwards begged to tender him as a witness for the prosecution. The proposal itself, and the object it contained, were made the subject of a very animated discussion; and, although the testimony offered seemed of the greatest importance, the court decided that it was of a kind which, according to the strict rules of evidence, could not be received. "Then you may rely upon it, gentlemen of the jury," cried Curtis, "it is favourable to me." "Let me assure you, sir, to the contrary," said the judge, mildly; "and that it is with a jealous regard for your interest we have agreed not to accept this evidence." "And have you had no respect for poor Vereker, my lord? He looks as if he really would like to tell the truth, for once in his life." "If Colonel Vereker's evidence cannot be admitted upon this point, my lord," said the Crown lawyer, "there is yet another, in which it is all-essential. He was one of those who stood beside Rutledge on the balcony, when the words were uttered which attracted his notice. The tone of voice, and the manner in which they were uttered, made a deep impression upon him, and he is fully persuaded that they were spoken by the prisoner in the dock." "Let us listen to him about that," said Curtis, who now bestowed a more marked attention to the course of the proceeding. Vereker was immediately sworn, and his examination began. He detailed with great clearness the circumstances which preceded the fatal event, and the nature of the conversation on the balcony, till he came to that part where the interruption from the street took place. "There," he said, "I cannot trust my memory as to the words employed by Rutledge, although I am quite confident as to the phrase used in rejoinder, and equally certain as to the voice of him who uttered it." "You mean to say," said the judge, "that you have recognised that voice as belonging to the prisoner." "I mean to say, my lord, that were I to hear him utter the same words in an excited tone, I should be able to swear to them." "That's a lie!" cried Curtis. "These were the words, and that the voice, my lord," said Vereker; and as he spoke a deep murmur of agitated feeling rang through the crowded court. 66 "By Heaven!" cried Curtis, in a tone of passionate excitement, "I hold my life as cheaply as any man, but I cannot see it taken away by the breath of a false witness; let me interrogate this man?" In vain was it that the practised counsel appointed to conduct his case interposed, and entreated of him to be silent. To no purpose did they beg of him to leave in their hands the difficult game of cross-examination. He rejected their advice as haughtily as he had refused their services, and at once addressed himself to the critical task. "With whom had you dined, sir, on the day in question-the 7th of June?" asked he of Vereker. "I dined with Sir Marcus Hutchinson." "There was a large party?" "Tell us, so far as you remember, the names of the guests?" "Some were strangers to me, from England, I believe; but of those I knew before, I can call to mind Leonard Fox, Hamilton Gore, John Fortescue, and his brother Edward, Tom Beresford, and poor Rutledge." "It was a convivial party, and you drank freely?" 66 Freely, but not to excess." "You dined at five o'clock ?" "At half-after five." "And rose from table about eleven ?" "About that hour." "There were speeches made, and toasts drank, I believe ?" "There were a few." "The toasts and the speeches were of an eminently loyal character; they all redounded to the honour and credit of the Government?" "Highly so." "And as strikingly did they reflect upon the character of all Irishmen who opposed the ministry, and assumed for themselves the position of patriots. Come, sir, no hesitation -answer my question boldly. Is this not true?" "We certainly did not regard the party you speak of as being true and faithful subjects of the king." "You thought them rebels ?" "You called them rebels; and you, yourself, prayed that the time was coming when the lamp-iron and the lash should reward their loyalty. Can you deny this?" "We had a great deal of conversation about politics. We talked in all the freedom of friendly intercourse, and, doubtless, with some of that warmth which accompanies afterdinner discussions. But as to the exact words " 66 It is the exact words I want it is the exact words I insist upon, sir. They were used by yourself, and drew down rounds of applause. You were eloquent and successful." "I am really unable, at this distance of time, to recollect a word or a phrase that might have fallen from me in the heat of the moment." "This speech of yours was made about the middle of the evening?" "I believe it was." "And you afterwards sat a considerable time, and drank freely?" "Yes." "And, although your recollection of what passed before that is so obscure and inaccurate, you perfectly remember everything that took place when standing on the balcony two hours later, and can swear to the very tone of a voice that uttered but three words That is a lie, sir!'" "Prisoner at the bar, conduct yourself with the respect due to the court, and to the witness under its protection," interposed the judge, with severity. "You mistake me, my lord," said Curtis, in a voice of affected deprecation. "The words I spoke were not used as commenting on the witness, or his veracity. They were simply those to which he swore-those which he heard once and although, after a five hours' debauch, remained fast graven on his memory, along with the very manner of him who uttered them. I have nothing more to ask him. He may go down-down!" repeated he solemnly, "if there be yet anything lower that he can descend to!" Once more did the judge admonish the prisoner as to his conduct, and feelingly pointed out to him the serious. injury he was inflicting upon his own case by this rash and intemperate course of proceeding; but Curtis smiled half contemptuously at the correction, and folded his arms with an air of dogged resignation. It is rarely possible, from merely reading the published proceedings of a trial, to apportion the due degree of weight which the testimony of the several witnesses impose, or to estimate that force which manner and conduct supply to the evidence when orally delivered. In the present case, the guilt of the accused man rested on the very vaguest circumstances, not one of which but could be easily and satisfactorily accounted for on other grounds. He admitted that he had passed through Stephen's-green on the night in question, and that possibly the tracks imputed to him were actually his own; but as to the reasons for his abrupt departure from town, or the secrecy which he observed when writing to the bootmaker, these, he said, were personal matters, which he would not condescend to enter upon, adding, sarcastically 66 That though they might not prove very damning omissions in defence of a hackney-coach summons, he was quite aware that they might prove fatal to a man who stood charged with a murder." After a number of witnesses were examined, whose testimony went to prove slight and unimportant facts, Anthony Fagan was called, to show that a variety of bill transactions had passed between the prisoner and Rutledge, and that on more than one occasion very angry discussions had occurred between them in reference to these. There were many points in which Fagan sympathised with the prisoner. Curtis was violently national in his politics. He bore an unmeasured hatred to all that was English; he was an extravagant asserter of popular rights; and yet, with all these, and, stranger still, with a coarse manner, and an address totally destitute of polish, he was in heart a haughty aristocrat, who despised the people most thoroughly. He was one of that singular class who seemed to retain to the very last years of the past century, the feudal bar. barism of a by-gone age. Thus was it that the party who accepted his advocacy had to pay the |