"Let me go, Sporteen," cried the alarmed girl; "let me go, you bould devil-the dickens be wid you, here's my mother. Och, let me go, don't you hear her foot at the door."

A step was heard approaching the threshold ere the Sporteen had time to regain his perch on the table. He ran to the cradle, and lifting the skeleton-like child, with well dissembled solicitude he began to soothe it as usual.

Och, the cock o' the walk you wor, my rattlin' bully boy. Hurroo! there now, sure you'll never cry again the sorrow tear. If you hadn't your own Sporteen, it's dead you'd be by this time. Sure the devil a one o' them can please you like meself. There, now, go to your cradly house again, and don't let me hear a word out o' the purty head o' you."

"Ah, then, it's laughin', I thought I heard him as I was comin' in," said the mother.

"You're right, ma'am jewel, quite right; and it's seldom wrong you are," readily replied the tailor; "sure enough it's laughin' he was-he always cries first, and laughs afther."

The Sporteen continued a longer time than might be deemed necessary with Farmer O'Callaghan. In consequence of his love for Bridget, he invented sundry excuses to remain from day to day. A great many articles wanted repairing, and sundry little plans were set on foot between him and "the misthress" to make the boys appear "oncommon dacent" on Sundays; besides he was so useful in pleasing “the etarnil tarmint" that she did not know what to do without him, and often honest Judith declared that "she wished the sorrow might overtake her afther a hard chase, but she'd like to keep him in the house for that alone."

All the children loved him for his pleasant disposition, but the peevish wretch in the cradle, above them all, seemed to have taken a particular and extraordinary liking to his comic and rollicking manner. The little imp would never be easy except when entertained with the songs and frolics of the Sporteen, and then he screamed and chuckled with such a hideous appearance of joy, that it was truly frightful to look upon. This unnatural predilection surprised even the tailor himself; and though, when the meagre ill-favoured thing grinned horribly delighted at him, be felt afraid and was almost ready to drop on the paved floor; still as he had an interest at stake in the heart and affections of Bridget, he gulped down his disgust, and fondled and dandled it as if it was the second edition of a seraph.

While affairs were in this train with the Sporteen, he got up one fine morning to keep an appointment with his love, who arose at early dawn to bring water from a distant spring in the fields to make her butter. After enjoying his half hour's stolen interview, and as he was returning along another pathway, which led through a lonely dell, he perceived to his no small surprise an earthen pitcher rolling merrily along before him. He paused and stared in wonder-on it rolled. He gazed about him, there was not an individual to be seen for miles; yet endued with a self-existing principle on went the pitcher. He rubbed his eyes until tears sprung into them—he shook his head and pulled his hair, still there it was before him, turning away rapidly down the glen, and, what added to his astonishment, was the intuitive caution with which it avoided every stone, deep cut, or precipitate descent in its path.

"Well, be me sowl, that's something a body doesn't see every day, any how," said he to himself. I suppose now it's full of

water, and rowlin' home of its own accord to some dacent ould collough (bag) on its side that way, 'ithout spillin a dhrop. Well, the likes o' that I never dhreamt of before. Hush, its comin' to a drain!" The pitcher approached to the edge of a furrow filled with water-it paused a moment on the brink, and then leapt over.

"Well lept, pitcher," cried the tailor; "bravely done, ah, then, sure it's no harm in life to get nearer to you."

He drew close to it-it was bona fide a common earthen pitcher, and, moreover, he thought he had often seen it before, but

"Come, rouse it again, your sowl to glory-that's the time o' day-hurroo!"

Still on went the pitcher faster and faster, singing away as merrily as the lark that towered in the grey cloud above them, and on followed the Sporteen until his patience and curiosity were exhausted. Rushing forward, half reckless and half desperate, he endeavoured to catch it, but it eluded his grasp, and went so rapidly that he could scarcely keep pace with it. "Stop, now, till I join you in the chorus itself," cried the tailor, still attempting to clutch the rolling vessel. "Stop, I tell you; if yon don't, may you be turned into a praytee, and the crows eat you. May you be smashed into a thousand smithereens (small pieces). The curse of Crummel on you, can't you rowl easy! That's right, now 1 have you-no indeed I haven't. Off again, powderin' away; the devil pounce the singin' out o' you, can't you wait and give me a verse." Thus he run on after the pitcher, endeavouring, between pursuasion and force, to get it into his possession; but just as he thought to lay his hands on it, off it went like the gliding stream, or a ray of light, affording nothing tangible to his grasp. At length he paused for want of breath, and fixed an eye of mischief on the pitcher. It seemed also to rest as if in sympathy, yet the instant he was about to move towards it, it was off again as quick as ever.

66

Easy, my gay pitcher," said he, "be me troth I'll loose a fall or be even with you; I'll thry what sort of metal you're made of afore we part company; be me sowl I will; here's at you, touch and go." And lifting a round pebble, he took aim, and threw it with all his force. "A miss, by the powers of delph! Well, it's no matter, an offer is as good as a blow, but the first goes for nothing; here's at you again! Another miss, by all that's lovely-and that's my Bridget! At it again-it's no sheep's head -faint heart never won fair lady-a coward was never worth a groat, and the third time is the charm." Sc, taking a steady and deliberate aim, he threw, hit the mark, and smash went the pitcher.

"Well shot, be me troth!-well done, Sporteen!" he shouted in joy, and attempted to cut a caper, but stood petrified with horror when he saw Mrs. Judith O'Callaghan's "eternal tarmint" leap nimbly as a monkey from out the ruins.

CHAPTER II.

Ere the Sporteen had recovered from his surprise at the unexpected appearance of the imp, be was thus saluted :— "Why, then, your sowl to this and that, Sporteen, what did you break my coach for?"

"Was it you that was in it?" asked the Sporteen, with eyes

I-a-can cut a lady's mantle,

starting from his head.-" Well, be me sowl I didn't know it, though something tould me your sweet voice was not altogether thrange to me.

It was me!" cried the fearsome creature, "and that was a nice way to serve me after all the good I done for you. It's long ago you'd be kicked out of Jem O'Callaghan's but for me; and often might I tell about you and Bridget-if I did, what would ecome of you?"

Why, Jem would stick the pitchfork to the ring in me," said the Sporteen, affecting a careless air.

"And Judy would break the tongs on your ugly head," added the denizen of the pitcher.

"Stop there, now," said the Sporteen, "never speak about handsome heads as long as you're alive; but keep dark about Bridget, and I'll buy you another pitcher, or I'll stale you one, which is all the same to you, I suppose."

Oh, you're a nice boy, Sporteen," said the imp, archly eyeing him, "laying schemes to steal away the poor man's daughter. Yes, you please the father, wheedle the mother, flatter the children, and have a fair face and a sweet word for every one, while you're whetting the knife to cut open their hearts."

"And aren't you a nice boy, too," said the Sporteen, to be tormentin' the life out of the poor people all day, and rowlin' about the fields in your pitcher all night."

"Not a word more about that, Sporteen," said the toad, "I don't blame you in regard to Bridget; she is certainly a sweet pretty colleen, and if you hadn't interfered, I had a great notion of courting her myself."

"You!" said the Sporteen in wonder; "and do you think my Bridget would look at the likes of you."

"The like of me!" repeated the little man with an offended air, as he strutted among the fragments of his coach-"the like of me! why you bandy-legged wielder of a pair of shears, would you compare your sheep-face, your bandy legs, and your bony body to a nice, smart little fellow like me. If I thought her worth my wooing I could win her from you with one wink of my merry black eye."

Why then, all I'd have to say to that," said the tailor, "would be sweet bad luck to her taste, but she'd be a complate connishure."

"What is that you say, you long-stitching rascal?" asked the imp with a dark scowl.

· Och, nothing," answered the Sporteen, in a conciliatory tone. But sure enough it's a fine bright eye that's in the head o' you, and be me sowl you spake like the priest of the parish; it's your tongue that's well bung on its hinges any how. I would not wish to meet with a purtier spoken boy of a summer's day; but for your life don't say a word more about Bridget, or maybe I'd be timpted by something or another to let you fall in the fire or give you a loving squeeze, some day when I'd be dandlin' you." "And I suppose I'm not to mention your meeting with Bridget in the haggard, or at the well this morning."

"If you do," answered Sporteen, "I'll swear 'twas you broke Judy O'Callaghan's pitcher."

Well, I'll make a child's bargain with you," said the imp. "Do you keep iny secret, and I'll keep yours."

“ Done, and a bargain be it," cried the tailor; but what excuse will you make about the pitcher?"

"Look at this Sporteen," said the elf, fixing up the pieces of the broken vessel. "Poo!" and he blew upon them; they fastened together with a crash. "Now I must make haste home to old Judy," he added, "she will be looking for her morning amusement, and it would be a pity to disappoint her." He leaped into the remodelled pitcher like a flash of lightning, and turning it on its side, away he rolled as quick as the wind, singing

"Oh-a-I am a sportin' tailyur,
And I rove from town to town-a;
And a where I get a job of work
I'm willin' to sit down-a2.

Make a breeches for a man—a ; And-a-the girls all cry as I pass by

There's the sportin' journeyman-a.”

"Well sung, me darlint," shouted the tailor, "every bar of it; that's my rattlin' fine pitcher; the sorrow take the one o' them like yourself; and they needn't be sorry," he added in an under tone. Och, be me sowl, if I knew what sort you wor before it's I that 'ud give you a wrastle with the red coals, my boy; troth, I'd toast you at the ind of the tongs, my nate little chap, be me troth I would. I'd tach you to pimp on gentleman's private affairs. I'd make the corner too hot for you. Och, Judy O'Callaghan, it's you that has the fine family of it; if there's many of them like that fellow-a nice two years' nursin' you have afther your hands-it's you that may boast of it, and here's luck. A mighty sweet-tongued relation my Bridget has; and he to talk about coortin' her too. Och, the unnatheral beast! Wont I have a grand brother-in-law in the king of the fairies; the devil so elegant a tailyur in the County Carlow as you'll be Sporteen."

He amused himself in soliloquies of this kind until he thought it was time to return without exciting a suspicion that he had had a meeting with Bridget. As he approached the house be could hear the piercing screams of the imp within, and he trembled as he entered. Judith had "the etirnal tarment" in her lap, trying every method to quiet and soothe him. She rubbed him with her warm hand, shook him by the heels and sprinkled him with holy water. All her efforts but seemed to add to his torments, and he shrieked and kicked as if racked with every ache and pain in the catalogue of human diseases, so bitter and incessant were his cries.

"Och, Sporteen, where in the world wor you?" cried the harrassed and worn-out woman; "here I am since I got up sthrivin' to stop the screech of this sarpint of misery-baw! you devil, will you bite the nipple of me? The Lord pursarve us, sure he was sint in revinge of my sins-och; a monem beg," (my poor soul) and she fervently smote her breast; "and there's that little girl breakin' her heart at that weary churnin'. Here, take him, Sporteen, but don't hurt the poor lambie baton-don't handle the poor creathur so rough. There now, he's with his own Sporteen."

"Augh, aye," said the tailor, "give me the beauty of the world, I'll handle him as tindher as if you had him by the hair of the head. Ah, then, Mrs. O'Callaghan jewel, war all your childher like this darlint when they wor his age?"

"Och, no, Sporteen, they wor all fine bulockeens, with big heads, that 'ud eat as much stirabout as a field of mowers; but I dunna what kem acrass that dimen' at all at all; but take care of him, Sporteen-take care of the poor weeny darlint ;" and she bustled out to the barn where Bridget was churning.

As soon as she went out, the little imp twisted up its features and burst into a fiendish cackle.

"Ha! ha ha! Well, Sporteen, don't I amuse old Judy in fine style?"

"Be me sowl you do," answered the Sporteen mechanically. "But take care, for the life you love, never open your lips to whisper what has passed between us," said the elf.

"Never fear," replied the Sporteen, and he trembled at the idea of holding such a hideous object in his arms. The creature felt him shake, and turning his fierce eye on him. "Stop. Sporteen," said he, "stop, lay me down in the cradle, don't bring me near the fire, lay me down easy, you cabbaging thief; don't you think but I remember what you said about dropping me in the fire this morning. If ever I hear a word respecting me, or if ever you attempt to burt a hair of my head, I'll be under the disagreeable necessity of cutting your throat with your own shears some fine night."

66

"Sure, it's only jokin' I was about the fire," said the tailor;

no more, upon me sowl," and he laid him softly into his wicker

shell; "and I'll give you leave to darn my sowl and body together, or bleed me to death with my own needle, if ever I speak a word about you."

"You're a pleasant hearty fellow, like myself, Sporteen," said the imp, "and that's what made me take such a liking to you— would you like a merry tune on the pipes?"

"To be sure I would," said the Sporteen; "and it was always my greatest divarshin, and the hoight of my delight of a Sunday evenin'.”

"Well, when Jude and Bridget go to the market tomorrow, I'll show you some sport, never fear. I am reckoned one of the finest pipers between the sea and the Shannon," said the nasty monster, with one of his demoniac sneers.

.. I don't doubt you, at all, at all," said the Sporteen, "afther the speciment of your singing I had this mornin'; I'd take your word for more than that in the musical way."

"Hark! I hear a foot-fall," said the imp, lying back in his cradle, and feigning to be asleep.

Next day Judith and Bridget went to the market of Carlow, to dispose of their butter and eggs. The farmer and the elder branches of his family were at their labour in the fields, and the younger children were gone to the village school, so that the house was left to the management of the imp and tailor. When all were gone it sat up in the cradle.

"Shut the door, Sporteen," said the elf, "shut close and fast; now put that long arm of yours up the chimney and hand me down my pipes." The tailor put his arm up the chimney, "in the left-hand corner you'll find them-take them down carefully you botch," he snarled. The tailor handed him a very neat set of ivory-mouthed bagpipes, which he screwed and tuned with much nicety of ear and touch. "Stand out on the floor there before me now, Sporteen," said he; "and I'll give you the • Rakes of Kildare,' in a fashion you never danced to before. Now for a caper-that's my nimble tailor-heel and toe-up and down-double, treble, cut-see saw, hands across-cover the buckle-double and treble again-down the middle-back again -shuffle-flourish-hurroo! hurrups!" and the little imp, in a paroxysm of delight, jumpt out of the cradle and joined the tailor in the dance. Whenever the latter exhibited any signs of weakness or fatigue, he changed the measure and encouraged him with his wild "hurroo and hurrups, Sporteen," and he continued to play and dance so long, and with so much energy, that at length the poor tailor, breathless and exhausted, sunk down motionless on the paved floor.

The tailor continued the favourite at farmer O'Callaghan's -he made rapid advances in Bridget's affections, and was "the wonder of the world" at pleasing the wicked imp. He at length succeeded so far in the grand wish of his heart as to induce the farmer's daughter to promise to "run away with him," the very first convenient opportunity, but the "eternal torment" made him dance his life out almost, whenever he could find the house alone. After some time the neighbours began to take notice of the constant noise and merriment that was carried on at the farmer's in the absence of the mistress, and they soon roused her suspicions that all was not as it should be between the tailor and the child. Without imparting these suspicions to any person, she set about finding out the truth of the stories which she heard. She contrived a pretence of having some business to transact at a distance, and sent Bridget on an errand to Carlow, that she knew would detain her some space. The house, as usual, was left to the care of the tailor and child, and when she thought a sufficient time had elapsed, she returned by a private way.

The mirth and music as she approached the house made her heart throb, and her hair stand upright. With trembling limbs she approached a back window and beheld the pair in the midst of their diversions. The child, whom she always found unable to stand alone, was now capering about the floor with the agility and vigour of a merry-andrew, while he played on the pipes and whooped and hallood to cheer on the fast-sinking tailor. She

was horrified and thunderstruck-she was convinced the thing which she had believed to be her child was nothing better than a Shee oge, and half distracted she flew to an old crone in the village, well known as the oracle in all cases of the supernatural, and recognized among the peasantry by the title of "the Grand Adviser." She communicated all she had heard, all that she feared. The unfortunate tailor was sent for immediately, and terrified into a confession of every thing he knew, except what concerned himself and Bridget. He was then dismissed, and between "the Grand Adviser" and Judith they concocted a plan which may be explained in manner following :

Judith revealed all to her husband; he was bewildered with the strange and fearful tale, and at once entered into her scheme. That night the family was assembled round the fire. The Sporteen was in the corner playing tricks with and amusing the imp, or at whiles winking at Bridget, who sat opposite to him; the farmer and Judith were seated in front, the minor branches forming an outer circle, or occupying the spare seats in the nooks. "Musha, then Jemmy," began the old woman, turning the stockings which she was knitting into her lay, and looking up with a simple air into her husband's face; "the sorra take me but I'll bet you any thing you wouldn't guess what's runnin' through my head these couple of days."

"Nothin' in the world, Jude agra (my love), but what a comb would take out, sure," answered Jemmy.

"Och, the goodness take you, but your 'cute-but it's not that I mane at all-guess again."

"If it's any thing else I couldn't-there's nothing that had any sinse about it could stop in such a foolish head," replied the farmer.

Why, then, the sorra go from me," said she, "but I had a notion of takin' the darlin' there as far as my aunt Honor's, at Leighlin, and washin' him in the blessed well of the holy Saint Lazariene. Do you know but I think it might bring him to himself; besides, Honor is a mighty knowledgeable woman in 'arbs and all sorts of cures."

"But how can you go and leave the churn-in' to Bridget?" said the farmer, putting in feigned objection, "besides, I can't spare the horse and car from the work." "We'll

"Augh, never fear but I'll manage that," said she. be up early at the churnin', and as soon as I take my bruchwast, I'll take the darlin' dimen' o' the world on my back, and set off; and who knows but the vartues of the holy saint's wather, and our prayers, 'ud restore his health."

“Well, then, go in the name of the Three Best;" replied Jemmy, "may be it was the goodness put such a thought in your heart: never say now or hereafter that I hindered you to do the creather a sarvice."

During this conversation the restless eyes of the imp wandered with a keen and alarmed scrutiny from the tailor to Judith, and from Judith to the farmer. He screwed up his wrinkled meagre features at the Sporteen with the most malicious twist, but he not pretending to hear what was uttered, or to notice his gestures, continued laughing, joking, and singing, in his usual manner, with the greatest apparent happiness and indifference.

The following morning the Sporteen met Bridget at the spring in the field, and without hinting at what occurred, he laid a plan to carry her off during her mother's absence with the child, Bridget agreeing to take with her whatever money or value she could lay her hands on that was portable, and proceed immediately to Carlow, where they could easily get married before any alarm could be excited at home by her absence.

As he was returning through the glen, he again overtook the pitcher rolling before him, and the imp within singing as ever—

The lasses swear that I'm the lad That's pleasant to their mind-aIn every town that I go through

A new sweetheart I find-a

The pitcher suddenly stopped, raised itself on one end, and the "etarnal tormint" stood before him with a bitter and louring brow.

"Sporteen," said he, "I am afraid you are a mighty fine rogue and a very great rascal."

"What the puck do you mane," asked the tailor, " For what's the matther with you at all-at all."

"I mean that you are a traitor," said the wretch.

"Is it me!" cried the tailor, "me! Oh, honour bright, be me sowl! Me, indeed! turn trator to myself; let alone you that I have such a tindher regard for what the puck could put the like ov that into your head ?" The imp held down his head, and pausing a few moments, be resumed.

"From what I heard last night, I think you have deceived me -I fear at least there's something wrong afoot. I do not like going such a long journey with that old cat Jude, to try her pisheroughes on me" (surperstitious incantations.)

"Och, is that all you're afraid of, oh oh! ah ah!" said the tailor, forcing a laugh. "Well, the dickens the like o' that ever I heard of. Sure it's the commonest thing in life-to be sure it is."

"If I thought there was any harm to follow," said the elf, "I could easily contrive to break her leg or her arm before she'd go far or her neck for that matter. It is not that I care about the journey, if I was sure you did not betray me."

"Me! is it me!" cried the tailor; "by them tin crasses," and he placed the fingers of both hands crosswise, "I never whispered it even to a stone. Me! I would'nt tell St. Pether' or my Mother-oh no! Will I swear by the"

"Don't mention names, Sporteen," said the creature, interrupting him. "However, you'll have fine sport while we are away, running off with Bridget, and I'll have a pleasant ride on old Jude's back, and never say that I can play a merry tune on the pipes if I don't canter the courage out of her before we come back."

"I'd take your word for more than that," said the Sporteen, "and if I don't manage Bridget, never ask me to take a step with you again."

"Well, good morning to you, Sporteen, and I wish you success with your intended, and myself a pleasant jouruey" said the imp, disappearing within his pitcher, and turning it over, away he went merrily down the dell.

As soon as the morning's work at the farm-house was over, and the breakfast ended, Judith prepared herself to depart with the elfish child. The Sporteen placed "the darlin' beauty o' the world" on her back, and turned the skirt of her gown over him, which she pinned securely in front. She bid them all good bye, like one who does not intend to return for some time; and the imp, turning round and making a motion like a jockey springing in the stirrups, winked wickedly at the tailor.

As they journeyed along Judith felt her burden grow heavy and heavier at every step until she was nigh sinking with his oppressive weight. With a throbbing heart-with weak and wearied limbs, she proceeded along the high road for about two miles, when she turned off into the fields, and struck down a bye-path which led over a narrow plank that bridged a turbid

stream, where it flowed to join the limpid waves of the gentle Barrow. As this was a well-known short cut, no suspicious inference could be drawn from her taking it. She continued on in her plodding gait until the path descended by a winding route through a wooded slope to where the board spanned the banks of the current. The waters were confined, but black and deeplooking, with little curling eddies that whirled playfully away beneath the pendant branches of the slender-leaved sallow-willows that fringed the shores and swept the surface of the waters. She reached the plank, and slily extracted the pin which secured the imp to her back. She touched the bridge with doubt and fear-she looked on the rolling waves and felt the creature stir on her back, and was nearly failing in her pupose. As she expressed it," Her heart swelled, and was nearly choking her." She gazed around with a wild, bewildered eye. "Shall I turn back," she thought, as the dark stream made her shrink. “It is a dreadful trial for a weak and wicked sinner, and what if after all it should be my own child that I am about to destroy;" but then the dancing scene with the tailor flashing across her mind in all its horror, dispelled each doubt and obliterated every trace of feeling from her bosom, and she stepped firm and renerved on the tottering pass. With a slow and steady pace she reached the centre, where, suddenly wheeling round, she gave her burden to the waters.

"In the name of God, his Holy Son, and Blessed Mother, whoever or whatever you are," she cried aloud when she heard the loud splash behind her, " 'go back to your own people, and send my child back to his."

She turned to look-he was sitting tailor-wise on the stream, and sailing on as fast as its billows could bear him. He fixed an eye of demon-like malignity on the wonder-stricken woman, as he shook his tiny hand, and every hideous feature of his face became twisted up and corrugated, to give utterance to one fiendish snarl.

"Ha! Jude, you old vagabond,” he screamed, “I am sorry now, whilst I had you in my power, that I didn't knock the life out of you. However, I have one revenge. The scheming tailor has run away with your daughter, and all that you are worth in the world. Ha, ha, ha!" and with an exulting cackle he disappeared beneath the overhanging branches.

Judith's eyesight appeared to be forsaking her, and she was near falling into the water at this astounding intelligence. She forgot the fairy child and everything connected with him, and gathering up the loose folds of her gown, she rushed towards her home a distracted woman. She burst open her door, and searching hastily in her chest, she found that her gathering of yearsher all-was gone. She screamed and danced about in agony and phrenzy of mind. Her cries awoke a blooming, chubby, blue-eyed innocent that was sleeping in the cradle. She went to it-it laughed up in her face with the attractive laugh of infancy, and extended its little arms to her from its rosy slumbers. She felt-she knew it was her own child. She took it up, and it nestled like a little bird into her bosom, and her heart throbbed and warmed to it with the mysterious and undefinable mother's love. She clasped her arms over it, and falling on her knees with a fervour of devotion she never knew before-"All praise be to God in Heaven," she ejaculated; "if one is lost we have one restored, and everything that's in the hand of God is right and good."

We have now but to remark that the Sporteen and Bridget were soon after reconciled to the honest farmer and Judith. The tailor commenced business in the town of Carlow, and became a settled industrious man, and in the course of a few years attained to wealth and respectability, although never until the day he died was he recognized by any other cognomen than the Sporteen; whilst the restored child grew up, the pride of Farmer O'Callaghan's family, the comfort of his old age, and the wonder of the Barony.

It was towards sun-set, on a beautiful evening of the month of August, 18—, that a little cavalcade, consisting of a guide, as usual half soldier, half mountaineer, his swarthy complexion and jet black hair sparkling in contrast with the eternal berreta or scarlet cap-a man somewhat past the middle age of life, a young officer in naval uniform, and a lively girl of apparently seventeen or eighteen, engaged in familiar chat, and occasionally interrupting their conversation by an outbreak of buoyant mirth, were passing at an easy trot, on the road between Barrèges and Luz, in the department of the Lower Pyrennes. The narrow gorge, at the farther extremity of which is situated the small town, or rather village, of Barrèges, now widened to their view; and in the distance rose the antique towers of the castle of Sainte Marie, whose ruins, placed on a steep acclivity, overlook the town of Luz. The chronicles of the Béarnais have preserved no record of this spot; and tradition itself is silent on the chapter of that ancient fortress, now falling to decay; the veil of centuries has closed upon the recollection of its sieges, its combats, its disasters, and it may be, of its triumphs; silencing alike its turmoil and those who caused it.

"Father," said the young girl, " I have wagered with cousin Alfred, that I will reach Saint Mary's tower before he does: will you let me win? The road is so very good!"

"Well then-but mind! no foolish pranks, Marietta! Alfred, I confide her to you, keep a steady eye upon her."

"A fine guardian, to be sure!" said the young girl, with a most provoking toss of her head; and patting lightly on the neck of her spirited little pony, she started off at full gallop. The young man gave the spur to his own horse, and rode close at her side. The ground was hard, and resounded to the feet of the horses, each of them endeavouring to pass the other. Suddenly the horse of the young guardian, in making a forward spring to pass by his companion, slipped with his fore feet on some rounded pebbles in the road, and fell: the girths broke, and the cavalier fell forward on the neck of his charger, which was speedily on its legs again. The young lady, who was

already far a-head, immediately rode back.

"Come, cheer up poor cavalier mine,-there's no harm done,'' cried the lively girl, springing lightly from her horse.

Alfred, without replying, affected to be busy repairing the broken girth.

"Why, surely you are not hurt, Alfred?" she inquired in a tone of tremulous alarm.

"Oh! not in the least fair cousin," answered Alfred, in a tone half sad, half joking; "but it would seem there are days entirely subjected to the influence of one's evil genius :-days, in which there weighs upon one's mind, I know not what fatal presage of misfortune.

"Simpleton!" exclaimed the young girl, striking playfully with her glove, the hand which Alfred proffered to aid her in remounting her pony-"at your dreams and presentiments again!"-you will make me low-spirited too, and then we should make, you know, but a sorry pair at the Saint-Sauveur ball this evening, which I have been anticipating for the last week-why, for shame!-and a sailor too,-a pebble rolling beneath your horse's feet, ought not to make you so down-hearted." At this moment they were overtaken by Marietta's father, and the guide in a few words the mishap was explained; Alfred remounted his horse, and the little group shortly afterwards entered the court-yard of the Hotel des Pyrenées at Luz.

Our three travellers might be classed in the first division of Sterne's enumeration;-those who have nothing to do. M. d'Ambray and his daughter were inhabitants of Toulouse, and Alfred, a lieutenant of marines, and nephew to M. d'Ambray, had come to pass with them his six months' leave of absence. Alfred was to marry his cousin, and looked forward with impatience to the period of his union with the pretty and beloved Marietta. The month of August was so fine, the Pyrenees were so near! One morning, then, they had set out for the mountains and it was in one of the customary excursions that the little incident of the race for a wager, and the unlucky episode of the stumble had happened. This delightful mode of existence, varied by alternate fatigue and recreation,-so different from the town life of the one, and the monotonous occupations of the other, had its peculiar charm for the young couple. Marietta had scarcely attained her nineteenth year her eyes were black, brilliant, and piercing, as is usual with Southern beauties; whilst the rich tresses of her dark brown hair clustered in profusion over a forehead of the purest white, and on cheeks suffused with a deep roseate tint. Alfred was tall, slender, and somewhat pale; but the ease of his manner, and his countenance, impressed with a certain character of melancholy, prepossessed almost every eye in his favor.

It was the height of the season at Cauterez: and Cauterez is the Cheltenham of the Pyrenees, the rendezvous of the fashionable world, the Paradise of the affluent lounger, and the refined ennuyé. Saint-Sauveur, too, was crowded-that pretty little town, seated on a gentle slope, with the river Gave at its feet; and as the latter place was full to overflowing, there was also an abundance of good company at Luz, a stone's throw further down, on the opposite bank of the torrent.

Now, for every person on the continent, belonging to what is conventionally styled the fashionable world, and who understands to its full extent the meaning of the phrase, "I am going to take the benefit of the waters "-there are but three spots on the