Hearst Memorftjl Library ^ 
 
 Case No Shelf No. 1^7.!^^ 
 
 Drawer No. Inventory No. ?J5J€( 
 
 •'NOT TO BE REMOVED FROM LIBRARY 
 
 WITHOUT PROPER AUTHORITY." 
 
 PROPERTY OF HEARST CORP. 
 
 
 University of California • Berkeley 
 A Gift of the Hearst Corporation 
 
^ 
 T 
 
TREASURE TROYE: 
 
 THE FIRST OF A SERIES OF 
 
 ACCOUNTS OF lEISH HEIRS: 
 
 ROMANTIC IRISH TALE 
 
 OF THE LAST CENTURY. 
 
 BY .SAMUEL LOVER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 RORY o'mORE," " HANDY ANDY," " LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND,' 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 WITH TWENTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS ON STEEL, 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 FREDERICK LOVER, ALDINE CHAMBERS, 
 
 PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 
 1844. 
 
1 
 
 LONDON: 
 CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL. 
 
TO THE 
 
 RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CHARLEMONT. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 The name of Charlemont belongs to a brilliant period in 
 Ireland's history, when England, unable to protect the people 
 she had enslaved, told them to protect themselves, and the slaves 
 forged their broken fetters into swords. 
 
 That was the glorious time when Ireland, Minerva-like, 
 sprang completely armed from the wrong-headed Jupiter. 
 
 That period was partly the result of, and not far removed 
 from the time and circumstances of which the historic portion 
 of this story treats, and therefore I dedicate it to the worthy 
 successor of the General-in-Chief of the Irish Volunteers. 
 Your Lordship's family has ever stood by Ireland in the worst 
 of times, and left a noble example that devoted patriotism is 
 not inconsistent with spotless loyalty to the Sovereign. 
 
 A false outcry has too often been raised against Ireland, that 
 she will "never be quiet f — let any one, in a candid spirit, 
 look to her history, past and present, and he will admit that 
 no country so misgoverned could enjoy tranquillity. If her 
 history were better known in the land that rules her destinies, 
 I think more of justice would accrue to her in public opinion; 
 and therefore have the humble eiForts of my pen been directed 
 
IV DEDICATION. 
 
 to sprinkle a few grains of instructive fact through the fol- 
 lowing fiction, hoping thus to coax the reader into a sense of 
 even tardy justice to a country and a people amongst the finest 
 in the world. 
 
 However much I may have failed in this object, I am 
 sure your Lordship will give me credit for the honesty of 
 the intention; and therefore, with the warmest expression of 
 admiration for your Lordship's patriotic spirit, I commend my 
 work to your notice, and dedicate it to your merits. 
 
 I have the honour to be. 
 
 Your Lordship's very humble, 
 
 and most obedient servant, 
 
 SAMUEL LOVER. 
 
 Charles Street, Berners Street, London. 
 January Ist, 1844. 
 
 \ 
 
A FEW WORDS ABOUT 
 
 £ S. D. 
 
 If any reader should tliink tlie title of my book an odd one, and 
 mutter to himself, '*£ S. D. !— £ S. D. !— what does that mean ?"' 
 — to him I beg, in Irish fashion, to answer by putting another ques- 
 tion, " What does it not mean ? " These Roman initials for 
 Pounds Shillings and Pence, have a more extended meaning than 
 could be treated of in a Preface, — a deeper hold upon human affec- 
 tions than many would like to own. There is magic in this triumvirate 
 of letters, which, representing money, governs the world. — Youth and 
 beauty are slaves to age and ugliness, by £ S. D. Valour and 
 good faith are beaten by cowardice and treachery, through £ S. D. 
 Wars have begun, and peaces have been bought, through £ S. D. 
 National rights and national wrongs have been based on £ S. D. 
 Where lies the root of most senatorial questions ? — In £ S. D. 
 The aspirations which stir our souls, under the name of ambition, 
 are too often but the illuminated letters, £ S. D. In short, the 
 golden fleece is branded with £ S. D. 
 
 In placing Irish Heirs and £ S. D. in juxta-position, I have 
 made an alliance quite in the spirit of a work of fiction, for, unfor- 
 tunately, the Pounds Shillings and Pence are not, in reality, the 
 invariable concomitants in Irish Heirships. Irish Heirs too often 
 find themselves in the position of that particular one once described 
 to an inquiring traveller by his Hibernian guide, who said that Mister 
 So-and-So " was heir to five thousand a-year — that was spent.'^ 
 
 V 
 
But such arc the heirs for the author. — There is nothing to be said 
 of a man who inherits a fortune smoothly, lives a regular respectable 
 life, and dies decently and quietly in his bed. Out on all such ! 
 Were the world made up of .these, what an unromantic world it 
 would be ! As Irish Heirs seldom have the luck to be such uninter- 
 esting persons as these who have raised my indignation, they are 
 the heirs after an author's heart ; and as their patrimonies mostly 
 departed with their forefathers, waifs and strays and money found 
 must be considered legitimate Irish Heirships ; and with this decla- 
 ration I start with a tale of Treasure Trove, as the first of the 
 series of £ S. D. ; and, as I very respectfully present £ S. D. to 
 the public, I hope they will generously return £ S. D. to their 
 obliged and grateful servant, 
 
 SAMUEL LOVER. 
 
 I 
 
 Charles Street, Berners Street, London, 
 January Ist, 1843. 
 
 n 
 
 
ACCOUNTS OF IRISH HEIRS. 
 
 ^v^asur^ €robe» 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It is about a hundred years ago that the hero of the following tale 
 " lived, and moved, and had his being." He lived in the town of 
 Galway, moved in the humbler walk of life, and had his being from 
 one Denis Corkery, an honest and wealthy trader in the ancient town 
 aforesaid, and Molly his wife. This son of Denis, however, was 
 christened Edward, in deference to his mother, who thought it more 
 genteel than Denis, — but Denis took his revenge by never calling 
 him anything but Ned. 
 
 Ned, however, inherited, in the female line, a desperate hankering 
 after all that belonged to the upper ranks. Even when a child, his 
 very name sounded unpleasantly in his ear ; he would mumble over 
 " Corkery" to himself in disgust, and wish he was called J3urke, or 
 Blake, or Fitzgerald, or Macnamara. As he grew up, he looked 
 wistfully after every well-mounted cavalier who pranced gallantly 
 up the street, and the full-toned rumble of some grand family coach 
 was music to him, while the sharp rattle of a country car was a 
 nuisance. He would run to the counter of his father's shop and listen 
 eagerly to the more refined accents of a lady or gentleman customer, 
 but he showed no desire for that place of business when vulgarians 
 were caiTying on their traffic. These peculiarities of the boy (whose 
 mother died while he was young) were unnoticed by his father, a plain 
 pains-taking man, who, having scrambled his way upward from the 
 lowest class, had the ambition, so general in Ireland, to see his son pos- 
 sess " school knowledge," the want of which he so much regretted, — 
 
 u 2 
 
4 £ S. (I 
 
 and, perhaps, overrated, as men do other things of which they are not 
 possessed. Accordingly he gave him all the advantages of the best 
 school within his reach, whereby the boy profited so well, that the 
 master soon bragged of his pupil, and the father looked forward to 
 the cultivated mind of his son with a prospective pleasure never to 
 be realized; for all this but stilted the boy more and more above his 
 natural level, fed the mental disease with which he was infected, — in 
 short, to speak antithetically, strengthened his weakness. The more 
 Ned learned, the more he liked gentility ; and when, having learned 
 just enough to make him conceited, he retired finally from school, his 
 father's friends and acquaintances, whom, with a profuse hospitality, 
 the father gathered round him, were looked down upon for their 
 ignorance and vulgarity; and the more the youth grew, the more 
 repugnance he showed to engage in his father's trading, which could 
 open to him no better company than the punch-drinking community 
 amongst whom he was daily thrown. It may be questioned, Kow 
 a boy should entertain a dislike to vulgar company without ever having 
 seen what was superior ; many believing that we can only arrive at 
 conclusions upon this subject by comparison. But the more observant 
 may have had occasion to remark, that, in some minds, there is a 
 natural dislike to every thing coarse ; and examples may be seen, even 
 in the same family, of the wide difference often existing between 
 children whose education has been equal, in their native adaptation 
 to vulgar or refined habits. On a mind open to impressions, the 
 slightest opportunities will suffice to stamp the difference between 
 vulgarity and good breeding. In his father's shop, the boy had 
 observed the contrast between the superior orders of his father's 
 customers and his father's acquaintances. The stripling, further 
 grown, on the neighbouring race-ground, was not Unsensible to the 
 diffiiience between the daughter of a farmer on her pillion, and the 
 daughter of the squire on her side-saddle. The more refined accent 
 of the one fell on his ear more graciously than the broad brogue of 
 the other, and what produced a coarse laugh in the country girl awoke 
 but the smile of the lady. Such things will always make their impres- 
 sions on intelligent minds, let those who like say nay ; for occasional 
 glimpses of refinement may sometimes effect more results in a sensitive 
 shopkeeper than an academy of punctilio could produce upon an obtuse 
 man of a higher grade. But, be this as it may, such an action was 
 going forward in young Corkery's mind, however it got there, and 
 soon began to produce unhappiness between the father and son ; not 
 that the latter ever openly expressed his feelings, but the former was 
 shrewd enough to see, almost as soon as the other felt, this growing 
 repugnance to the consequences of his station , and many was the 
 
 « 
 
 « 
 
TllEASURE TROVE. 5 
 
 accusation of " Puppy," and " Jackanapes," hurled at poor Ned by 
 the indignant trader, who occasionally, when moved overmuch, relieved 
 his mind by indulging in sundry curses on the hour that " put it into 
 his head to rear up his own child to be ashamed of the father that 
 bore him." Now this was not fair to the youth, for it was not true, 
 and only aggravated the cause of disunion. 
 
 Did the stripling wish in return he had never been educated ? — No. 
 To whatever trials or troubles one may be exposed by education, 
 however much it may render the feelings by cultivation more sensitive, 
 and, consequently, more liable to be wounded, 1 believe none who ever 
 possessed the prize would relinquish it. The utmost the young man 
 ever ventured to retort, was the natural question — if his father could 
 expect that education would not make some difference in him ? 
 
 " To be sure, I think it should make a differ. It should make 
 you more knowledgable ; but instead o' that, it's a fool it made o' you. 
 And-; it should make you convarsible ; but, instead o' that, it's the divil 
 a word you'll say to any body, — thinkin' no one good enough to spake 
 to you. And it should make you more 'cute in thrade by rayson of 
 fractions, and algibera, and the cube root; and a betther marchant, by 
 rayson of jogriphy, and a knowledge o' foreign parts, and the like of 
 that ; but it's thinkin', I am, you turn up your nose at a marchant, 
 my young masther; and it's po'thry, and pagan hist'hry, and pan- 
 thenions, you have crammed your numskull with, till there's no room 
 in it for common since, at all, at all. What is it you'd like to do wid 
 yourself, I'd like to know ? I suppose you'd fancy an aisy life, and 
 would like to be put 'prentice to a bishop— eh? Or, maybe, it's a 
 jintleman all out you'd like to be ? Well becomes you, indeed ! — 
 owld Corkery's son a jintleman^ and his owld friends laughin' 
 at him !" 
 
 If the son attempted to slip in an apologetic phrase, as " Indeed, 
 sir ! " — or, " 'Pon my word, father !" — he was silenced directly with a 
 " Whisht, whisht, I tell you I — howld your tongue— didn't I see you 
 lookin' at Miss Macnamara the other day ? Bad luck to you — how dar 
 you lift your eyes to a Macnamara — the owldest blood in the counthry? 
 The dirt on her shoes is too good for you, you puppy ! " 
 
 " Indeed, sir •" 
 
 " Whisht, I tell you ! — shut your face, and give your red rag a 
 holiday — you're too fond o' waggin' it, so you are. The consayted 
 dhrop's in you, I tell you. What am I to do wid you ? Thrade's not 
 good enough for you ! How genteel we are, to be sure ! — your sarvant 
 sir ! I suppose you'll want to turn prodistint next. You'll be of the 
 ginteel religion^ I go bail. I wouldn't wonder ! Faith, you'll go to 
 the divil yit, Ned. Oh, wirra! wirra !" 
 
6 £ s. d. 
 
 The end of these frequent bickerings was, that Ned, to escape from 
 his father's trade, his father's reproaches, and his father's friends, 
 requested permission to go a voyage with the captain of a trading ship 
 whom the old man chanced to know in the course of his business. 
 This was not quite to the taste of either of the parties, — the father 
 disliking it decidedly, the son only looking forward to it as a step to 
 something else. The latter, by reading romantic scraps of sea voyages, 
 got his imagination inflamed with the charms of nautical adventure. 
 The former made a long calculation that a voyage in a trading ship 
 was at least a step towards commerce, and hoped that when his son 
 should be sufficiently tired of " sailoring," as he called it, he might 
 settle down into a mercantile man. 
 
 Under these circumstances it was agreed between the parties that 
 three months should elapse before the decisive step should be taken, 
 after which time, if Ned found he could not settle down to business at 
 once, his father consented to let him try the sea. During these three 
 months, therefore, Ned had more liberty and fewer reproaches than he 
 had ever known in his life, — the father hoping, by such indulgence on 
 his part, to make the shore more agreeable, and the sea less tempting; 
 and Ned was not slow to take advantage of this leave. ■! 
 
 Among other amusements, Ned especially loved horse-racing ; and a^^ 
 forthcoming trial of strength between some of the best horses and most 
 dashing bloods in the country promised rare sport, and set the pleasure- 
 goers on the tip-toe of expectation. At the approaching races, one 
 match beyond all others excited most interest, to be run between a pair 
 of celebrated horses ridden by their owners, both of sporting notoriety, 
 but of very different characters, — the one being rather conceited and 
 stand-off" in his manners, the other familiar and frank; the former being 
 satisfied of his great attraction among the fair sex, — the latter quite as 
 anxious for, but not quite so sure of, their smiles; Mr. Daly being per- 
 fectly certain he had but to ask and have favours, while young Kirwan 
 (or Kierawaun, as the admiring peasants called him) was grateful for 
 as much as was granted. They were both handsome, only that the 
 good looks of the latter were increased by the expression of gay good 
 humour that played on his sportive countenance, while the temper of 
 the former often militated against more than his good looks. 
 
 On the day of the race in question the neighbouring town poured 
 forth the sport-loving portion of its inhabitants, and the peasant popu- 
 lation were, as usual, in great force on the race ground. As the hour of 
 trial drew near, so did the ponderous carriages-and-four of the gentry, 
 with the gay cavalcade of the rank and yo^mger beauty of the neigh- 
 bourhood, whose heavy saddles, studded with silver nails and orna- 
 mented with gold fringe, marked a distinction in rank which the plainer 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 7 
 
 equestrian appointments of our time do not indicate. Amongst these 
 beauties was the identical Miss Macnamara, to whose pretty face Ned 
 had been accused by his indignant father of lifting his eyes, and may- 
 be Ned was not there in time to catch the first glimpse of the graceful 
 Amazon as she cantered up the course towards the group of carriages 
 and glittering cavalcade that clustered round the winning post. 
 
 But ah! — fleeting is the triumph of beauty! — even the triumph 
 achieved over the hearts of despairing burghers. Before Miss Mac- 
 namara had arrived, a newer and more commanding belle had displaced 
 her in the heart of the susceptible Ned, who stood transfixed as he 
 gazed on the face of a young and lovely girl whose beauty attracted 
 universal attention, as she took up her place beside a stern-looking 
 man of middle age, whose costume of somewhat heavier cut than that 
 of the gentry surrounding, and bronzed visage, imparted a foreign air 
 to his appearance. A servant, mounted on a stout horse, was in 
 attendance upon them, and many questions passed amongst the assem- 
 bled throng touching " who they were," but no one knew. Ned took 
 up the closest position he could maintain near them, and while he 
 feasted his eyes on the unknown beauty, little dreamt of the damage he 
 was doing to his heart all the time. — It was that sort of entrancement 
 wliich woman alone can achieve, and which tongue or pen cannot tell, 
 and those can only know who have felt; therefore we shall say nothing 
 about it, but leave it to the imagination or sympathy of the reader 
 to guess or feel how Ned was suddenly enslaved. 
 
 A shout disturbed him from his trance; — it was the appearance of 
 the racers, who paced before the assemblage of the elite as they passed 
 onwards towards the starting post. The usual bustle of the moment 
 prevailed — the admiration of the horses, the expression of hopes for 
 one and doubts of another, the excitement of betting, the watchfulness 
 of the start; and then, as the changes of the race round the plain were 
 perceptible, the intenser interest of the brief struggle, till the last 
 breathless moment of suspense, when the straining steeds, urged to 
 their utmost energies, are seen coming up to the goal — the sod resounds 
 beneath their rapid' stroke — the thunder increases — the very earth 
 trembles — they seem to fly ! — they are past ! ! — a shout rends the sky ! ! ! 
 — the race is over. 
 
 Brief pleasure ! — not so the pain for those who have lost their money. 
 Such were races then— as they are now — only they were somewhat 
 honester. 
 
 That race being over, the most interesting contest of the day was 
 next in succession. The company had not long to wait; — a cheer an- 
 nounced the approach of Mr. Daly, who, mounted on a splendid horse 
 and exquisitely dressed, approached the principal group of spectators. 
 
s. cL 
 
 He paraded up and down for some time, manifestly pleased to exhibit 
 himself and his horse, and a furtive glance cast into the principal 
 carriages betrayed his desire to know how much he was admired. 
 
 While he was thus amusing himself, a thundering shout, mingled with 
 roars of laughter, disturbed his serenity, which was soon overcast by 
 an expression of the darkest anger as he saw the cause of the cheers 
 and the merriment, which were provoked by the appearance of young 
 Kirwan, cantering up towards the group of rank and beauty on a 
 shaggy little pony without a saddle, while he himself was attired in a 
 coarse frieze jacket, tied round his middle with a straw rope, while on 
 his head, instead of hunting cap, a peasant's caubeen, with a gad * for 
 hatband, holding a dhudeen,'\ was rakishly stuck on one side. From 
 under this hat Kirwan's sportive smiles displayed his white teeth, as he 
 rode laughing up and down along the line of carriages, whence answer- 
 ing mirthful recognition was showered upon him, while his rival horse- 
 man could not conceal his rage at thus having his trim attire ridiculed 
 as it were; he approached Kirwan, and said with as much calmness as 
 he could command, 
 
 "Do you mean this for a joke or an affront, Mr. Kirwan?" 
 
 " A joke, to be sure." 
 
 " It is a very bad one, then, sir." 
 
 '* Sure an affront would be worse." 
 
 " It mai/ be so" said the other, putting spurs to his horse, intending 
 to gallop to the starting post; but the horse, an ill-tempered animal, 
 instead of obeying this summons as it was meant, plunged violently 
 and engaged in an angry struggle with his rider, who finally conquered, 
 however, and rode him to the post. 
 
 This was all Kirwan wanted; — he knew^the horse and rider were 
 both ill-tempered, and his grotesque dress was assumed for the purpose 
 of provoking the fury of the animal through the vanity of his master, 
 and thus, with a horse of inferior power, but gentler nature, securing 
 the winning of the race. After making a few jokes with the ladies, who 
 were yet enjoying his absurd costume, he cantered his pony after his 
 angry rival, and, on arriving at the starting post, alighted, and sprang 
 into the saddle of the racer, which was there held in waiting for him. 
 After some false starts, arising from the sulky horse of Mr. Daly, 
 " Whip, spur, and away !" were successfully answered to, and off went 
 the competitors. But the tustle between Daly and his steed were fatal 
 to his hopes. — If there be a time when horse and man should, as 
 the Mexicans imagined, be one animal, it is in the race; if they go 
 not together they go not at all.— For a time the race was contested, 
 
 A peeled osier twisted. 
 
 f Stump of a pipe. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 
 
 but the temper of Daly's horse, once roused, was irretrievable, and 
 the brute, bolting at the last turn, Kirwan won in a canter. 
 
 The shouts of Kierawaun I Kierawaun I! were deafening, and Daly- 
 made the best of his way to the stables. 
 
 Immediately after this race, while Ned was bestowing his attention 
 on the fair unknown, the gentleman with whom she rode addressed 
 some words to her, and afterwards to their attendant, and she at once 
 cantered off the course, followed by the servant, while he of the bronzed 
 visage followed in an opposite direction, in the wake of the crowd, 
 which, as soon as the heat was over, rapidly cleared the course, and 
 hurried to an adjoining field, where cock-fighting occupied the inter- 
 vals between the races. The cock -pit was very simple in its construc- 
 tion — no regularly levelled platform for the combatants, nor inclined 
 planes of seats for the spectators. The fairest portion of a pasture 
 ground was taken for the field of battle — a circle, marked by fresh-cut 
 twigs stuck in the earth, around which gentle and simple crowded and 
 got a sight of the sport as best they might, — the gentle mostly 
 mounted, it is true, who thus overtopped their neighbouring pedes- 
 trians; but often, as a late arrival on horseback placed the new comer 
 beyond the point of view, he would dismount, and leaving his horse to 
 the care of some gilly, push amongst the mass of the peasants, who 
 made ready way as his presence declared him to be of the upper class, 
 while, if " the handlers" within the ring caught sight of such a per- 
 sonage, they urged the populace to give place by strong representations 
 of their unworthiness to see the sport before their betters. 
 
 " Back out o' that, Dimpsy, I tell you ! — Is it stoppin' his honour 
 o'Menlough you'd be?" 
 
 Dimpsy made himself as small as possible, and the Blake came 
 forward. 
 
 "Cock you up, Shaughnessy, and is it you 'ud see the cock-fight 
 afore the quality? — Make way for his honour, Misther Lynch." 
 
 Shaughnessy squeezed back, and Mr. Lynch pressed forward, while 
 another handsomely dressed candidate for the front row followed in 
 his wake. 
 
 The handlers shouted, " Way for his honour the honourable Misther 
 Daly — hurra ! for Dunsandle ! way I bid ye !" 
 
 While such exclamations were ringing on every side, and the crowd 
 swaying to and fro, Ned had obtained a foremost place amidst the by- 
 standers around the ring, and observed, conspicuous amongst the 
 horsemen, him of the foreign aspect. 
 
 His attention, however, was more forcibly arrested by the presence 
 of a blind man, who struggled hard to keep a foremost place in the 
 ring, and whose endeavours for such accommodation every one of the 
 
10 £ s, d. 
 
 m 
 
 s his ^M 
 
 peasantry seemed willing to aid, while kindly expressions towards 
 pitiable state were mingled with merry allusions to the utter useless 
 ness of one deprived of sight occupying a front rank to see the sport. 
 But at the same time that this mingled pity and merriment went for- 
 ward, there seemed to exist a degree of respect towards the man, quite 
 at variance with pity or jesting, and difficult to account for, but for 
 the leathern pouch at his side, whence some ivory-tipped tubes of box- 
 wood protruded, and showed cause for the affectionate attention of the 
 peasants. — He was a piper ; and who, in the Land of Song, would not 
 stand well with the minstrel ? — one, ever prized in Ireland, through 
 the most endearing associations, either as the traditional transmitter 
 of ancient bardic effusions at the wake, the mirthful stimulator of 
 nimble feet at the fair, the contributor to love or fun in musical plaint 
 or planxty ; or, perchance, the exciter of sensations darker and more 
 secret, by the outpouring of some significant strain which had hidden 
 meaning in its phrases, and bore hope and triumph in its wild cadence. 
 
 All the influence arising from such causes Phaidrig-na-'pih* held 
 pre-eminently ; and " Stand fast, Phaidrig," and " I'm with you, 
 Phaidrig," and " Hold by me, Phaidrig," were amongst the ejaculations 
 which greeted the piper, as offers of assistance were made to him on 
 idl sides. The " dark" f man was pitied, though the blind witness of 
 cockfighting might make food for mirth. But, though he could not 
 see, he took deep interest in the savage sport, and would bet on the 
 fate of the battles, inquiring only who was the owner of the birds, 
 and what their colours; on knowing these, his knowledge of the 
 various breeds of the cocks would decide him in backing the comba- 
 tants, and mostly he was right in his selections. 
 
 The ring was now crowded to suffocation, and a movement between 
 the handlers promised a commencement of the encounter, when a 
 fresh commotion in the crowd indicated another struggler from the 
 rear to the front. He was caught sight of by the officials within the 
 ring, and " Room" was called for his honour Misther Bodkin ; but the 
 serried mass seemed too compact to admit of another being. " Arrah, 
 boys, is it keeping out Misther Bodkin you'd be ?" 
 
 " Faix, and if he was a needle instead of a bodkin, 'twould be hard 
 for him to get in here," said Phaidrig. 
 
 " Sure he's like a needle in one respect, any how," returned tlie 
 handler — " he has an eye in him ; and as you have not, you might give 
 him your'place, and stand behind." 
 
 " Sure, if I'm blind, that's a rayson I should have a front place,'* 
 says Phaidrig, " as a man with eyes has a better chance of seeing." 
 
 The crowd paid the good-natured tribute of a laugh to Phaidrig's 
 * Patrick of the Pipes. f A phrase applied to the blind. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 11 
 
 pleasantry upon his own misfortune, and the handler sought another 
 person to displace for his honour Misther Bodkin, who at length got 
 into the front, and the battle began. 
 
 The usual hasty offers and acceptances of wagers on the contending 
 birds rang in rapid succession among the mounted gentlemen in the 
 crowd, and those who held the front standing-places in the circle. 
 It was the first time Ned had ever seen a cockfight, and his attention 
 was distracted for a time between the fierce conflict of the birds and 
 the sounds of triumph or dismay which followed the blows or the falls 
 of either, and the bets which were offered or doubled in consequence ; 
 but all these gave place at last to observation of the blind man, whose 
 excitement surpassed that of all others as the fight proceeded, and who 
 appeared by his exclamations to know, as well as those who could see, 
 the vicissitudes of the battle ; his sense of hearing seemed to give him 
 the power of distinguishing between the strokes of the combatants, as 
 an occasional exclamation of "Well done, red cock!" sufficiently 
 proved ; and the crow of each bird seemed as familiar to his ear as the 
 voice of an acquaintance. 
 
 The fight between the first pair of cocks was over, and a fresh pair 
 produced : as they were brought into the ring, one of them challenged, 
 and on hearing his bold, clarion-like defiance, Phaidrig's countenance} 
 brightened, as he exclaimed, " That's the cock for winning — I know 
 his shout — 'tis the Sarsfield breed." 
 
 " That is not the name I give the breed," said a handsome cavalier, 
 of noble appearance, who was mounted on a splendid horse. 
 
 " But that is the breed, my lord," said Phaidrig, nowise daunted by 
 the voice of the nobleman ; " sure I know it, egg and bird, for long 
 ago — and what better name could a bowld breed have ?" 
 
 Phaidrig's answer was relished by the crowd, who evinced their 
 pleasure by a low, chuckling murmur, over which the voice of the 
 nobleman was heard rather reprovingly to the piper, telling him " his 
 chanter* was too loud." 
 
 " Sure the noble Clanrickarde should be the last to turn a deaf ear 
 to the name," retorted Phaidrig, " when one of the fair daughters of 
 De Burgo was wife to the bold Sarsfield." 
 
 " Put down the cocks," said Lord Clanrickarde, anxious to terminate 
 the parley. 
 
 As the birds were set opposite to each other, the strange cavalier 
 exclaimed, " Five guineas on the black bird." 
 
 As the Pretender was known to be often designated in Ireland under 
 the sobriquet of the " black bird," every eye was turned towards the 
 
 ^^ The principal pipe of the set. 
 
12 Jb s. a, 
 
 stranger as he uttered the words, and angry glances, as well as those 
 of admiration, were bent on him, — the angry ones openly, from the 
 consciousness that those who gave them were backed by authority, — 
 the others, timidly and furtively, as indicating an unlawful desire. 
 
 A stern horseman beside the stranger, in answer to his offered bet, 
 said, " The black cock you mean." 
 
 " The black bird !" returned the stranger. 
 
 " The cock !" repeated his neighbour. 
 
 " A cock is a bird, sir, I believe," the stranger returned, coldly, and 
 then repeated his bet, " Five guineas on the black bird !" 
 
 " Done !" said his stern neighbour, more influenced by the spirit of 
 political opposition than cockfighting. 
 
 This altercation had so far operated on the handlers, that they 
 paused in their duties, and the battle did not begin until the word 
 " Done" had been uttered ; then the birds were let loose, and rushed 
 eagerly on each other. 
 
 An interest was imparted to the contest beyond that of the mere sport, 
 from the words by which it was preluded ; and the spectators saw 
 in the two cocks the champions, as it were, of two parties ; and 
 hopes and fears, almost superstitious, were attached to each stroke of 
 the combatants, whose blows were exchanged fiercely and rapidly, 
 for both the birds were high game. At last the black received a 
 double stroke of his adversary's spurs, which brought him to the 
 ground, and a cheer of triumph rose from the surrounding gentry, as 
 the handlers rushed forward to disengage the birds. 
 
 " Two to one on the red !" cried several gentlemen, and another 
 cheer arose on their part, while a breathless silence reigned amid the 
 crowd of peasants, foremost amongst whom Phaidrig-na-pib bent his 
 head over the ring in the act of eager listening. 
 
 " *Twas only a body blow, you say," muttered Phaidrig to a neigh- 
 bour. 
 
 " Yes," whispered the other. 
 
 " Then, no matter," said the piper ; " he'll bide his time and hit his 
 match in the head. I know the breed well— they always strike for the 
 head." 
 
 The birds were again set in opposition. The black went in boldly, 
 and made a vigorous dash at his enemy. 
 
 " Well done ! — he's strong yet !" muttered Phaidrig. 
 
 A bold bout now ensued between the birds; their wings flapped 
 fiercely against each other, and some ugly blows were exchanged, but 
 it was evident that the double stroke the black had received was 
 telling against him; he bled profusely, and exhibited symptoms of 
 weakness, yet still his courage failed not, and he continued to exchange 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 13 
 
 blows, until another heavy stroke from the red brought him down, and 
 a fresh shout of triumph rose from the gentlemen. 
 
 " Behold the fate of your ' black bird' now, sir !'' said he of the 
 stern visage to the stranger. 
 
 " A battle is not lost till it is won, sir," was the answer. 
 
 A dead silence ensued, during which the handlers were counting 
 time, for the victorious red cock, having disengaged himself, was left 
 to tread the field in triumph, while his sable adversary lay drooping on 
 the ground, which was stained with his life-blood. 
 
 For a few seconds the red eyed his stricken foe, and stood as if on 
 guard, in expectation of a fresh attack; but when he saw his head 
 gradually droop, he seemed at once to understand that so bold an 
 adversary must be beaten, or he would return to the assault, and with 
 an air of conquest he stepped proudly towards him, and standing right 
 over him, flapping his wings, and raising his head to its proudest 
 height, he crowed his triumph over his fallen foe. 
 
 The sound acted like magic on the dying bird. The trumpet of 
 victory could not more have stirred the heart of a vanquished hero. 
 It was manifest the cock could not have struck another blow, if his 
 enemy had not crowed over him ; but the insult roused him at his last 
 gasp, and the defenceless position of his foe placed him within the 
 reach of vengeance. And vengeance was the work of an instant ; he 
 made one convulsive spring from the ground, and his spurs clashed 
 together through the brain of his exulting adversary, who dropped 
 dead under the expiring victor. A wild shout rose from the pea- 
 santry, and vexation was depicted in the countenances of the gentry. 
 
 " Is he dead ?" asked the owner of the red cock. 
 
 " As a stone, your honour," answered the handler. 
 
 " And there goes the black now ;" said the other handler, as the 
 gallant bird stretched himself in death. " 'Tis a pity such a bit of 
 game should ever die !" 
 
 " Give him into my hands here, for one minute," cried Phaidrig-na- 
 pib ; whose request was granted by the handler. 
 
 Phaidrig pressed the bird to his heart, and in his native language 
 vented a wild out-pouring of eloquent lament for the '^ black bird,** 
 in which many an allusion of an exciting character was caught up by 
 the populace ; and Lord Clanrickarde, not approving of the temper they 
 exhibited, very judiciously put an end to the cock-fight, by saying it 
 was time to run the last heat of the race. 
 
 He gave example to the gentry by his own act of galloping at once 
 to the winning post, and was followed by a crowd of horsemen, most 
 of whom cursed the unlucky chance of the fight. The peasantry drew 
 off in another direction, in the train of Phaidrig-na-pib, who, " yoking" 
 
14 
 
 £ s. d. 
 
 his pipes, poured forth the spirit-stirring strain of " The Blackbird" 
 and the shrill chanter, as it rang across the plain, to such admirable 
 music, but questionable loyalty, was — 
 
 " Unpleasing most to noble ears." 
 
 
 '^it MacWxti. 
 
 (With spirit, but not too fast.) 
 
 
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 -*- ^'* pjpzfip. -»-' 
 
 tit=l 
 
 t4=f: 
 
 yrfeiz— i=Ff-7P^ 
 
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TREASURE TROVE. 15 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 After this day of excitement, the night brought, with its darkness, 
 silence, also, over ,the town of Galway ; and, to judge from the quiet 
 within its narrow streets, out of doors, one might think it brought 
 peace likewise ; but it was not so. Could the interior of many of its 
 ancient domiciles be seen, the excitement of more than wine would 
 have been apparent, and the turn the cock-fight assumed brought 
 from its lurking-place many a feeling laid by, as the possessor thought, 
 for ever. But such feelings, like our great grandmothers' state suits, 
 were too often laid by only to be brought out on favourite occasions, 
 and sometimes, more unfortunately, were left as heirlooms. And 
 though it is long since we have laughed at this custom of our grand- 
 mothers, the other we have likened to it has, unfortunately, long 
 survived it, and is only now left off because, thank Heaven, it is worn 
 out. Party will lose its pattern as well as silk, and time crush the 
 stiffness of creeds as well as brocades ; hoops and wigs will flatten 
 and lose their beauty in spite of buckram and powder, and other 
 high things, as well as high-heeled shoes, be content to come down 
 to a reasonable level. 
 
 But, to return to Galway ; many a dinner and an after-bout of 
 drinking the town saw that day, comprising the proudest names and 
 the humblest. A sporting occasion, such as the one just mentioned, 
 is sure to spread the board, even in our degenerate times, which are 
 as nothing, if we may believe chronicles, to those of our fathers, 
 when the " pottle-deep" potations were in vogue, and a more indis- 
 criminate hospitality exercised. It will not be wondered at, therefore, 
 that, at a later hour of the night, many a hot-headed blade had to 
 traverse the dark town, more ready to give than take an affront, and 
 the better-humoured ready, at least, for " sport," which, after dinner, 
 in all times, meant giving somebody else annoyance, and bears the 
 same definition to this day. 
 
 Ned Corkery was one of the out-of-door people, who was returning, 
 after a dinner, to the parent roof, where he expected a reprimand for 
 staying out so late, when his attention was attracted by a lantern, 
 borne by a gentleman, on whose arm a lady leaned; and, as Ned 
 
16 £, s, d, 
 
 passed, the light of the hintern, flashing on her face, discovered the 
 features of the beautiful girl who had so smitten him on the race- 
 course. He paused as they passed ; they were followed by a bhnd 
 man and his dog, and Phaidrig-na-pib was easily recognised. Ned 
 followed the light of the lantern with longing eyes, knowing it showed 
 the fairy foot of the sweet girl where to pick her steps ; and when a 
 projecting abutment of one of the ponderous old edifices with which 
 the town abounds to this day screened the lantern's gleam, he could 
 not resist following. A thought of his father's additional anger for 
 every additional minute came over him ; but the desire to know 
 w^here that matchless girl lodged was a superior consideration, and he 
 pursued the magic lantern — to him, a magic lantern indeed ! for, 
 strange and wild were the shapes which, through its agency, his 
 future life assumed. 
 
 He had not followed far, when the party stopped, in consequence 
 of a servant saying he had dropped some money, and begging of the 
 gentleman to lend him his lantern to search for it. The request was 
 granted, and, after a few seconds, the man joyfully exclaimed, he had 
 found the money, and, laying the lantern at the gentleman's feet, ran 
 off. He who had conferred the obligation, remarked, that he thought 
 the man might have been civil enough to hand him the lantern he had 
 lent ; but how much greater was his surprise, when, as he stooped to 
 take it, the lantern was pulled suddenly upwards, till it swung from a 
 projecting beam above ; and a loud laugh from a distant part of the 
 street showed it was a practical joke which had been played off upon 
 the unsuspecting stranger, the servant of this " sportive" party only 
 having feigned the loss of the money, and, while he affected to look for 
 it, tying to the ring of the lantern a string, which N2iS pulled by the 
 remote jokers ! The gentleman was very indignant, and shouted 
 loudly some opprobrious names, meant for the persons who had treated 
 him so scurvily ; and, at the same moment, Ned advanced, requesting 
 him to be calm, as he would recover the light for him. The stranger 
 thought this might be some fresh jest, and intimated as much ; but 
 Ned assured him he would scorn conduct so " ungentlemanly," and 
 requested immediately that Phaidrig would stand beside the heavy 
 porch of an old doorway, and enable him thereby to clamber upwards. 
 The suggestion was obeyed ; the youth sprang upon the shoulders of 
 the stout piper, laid hold of the projecting entablature of the ponderous 
 masonry, and twining his legs round one of the pillars which supported 
 it, thus climbed his way to the top of the pediment, whence he was 
 enabled to reach the beam where the lantern swung. As he was about to 
 Itiy hands on it, the string which the distant party held was relaxed, the 
 lantern lowered, and Ned near tumbling. A fresh laugh was raised, and 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 17 
 
 another curse uttered by the impatient gentleman ; but when Phaidrig 
 was told what had occurred, he called his dog, and placing him on his 
 shoulders, and stooping, that the animal might gain a spring from his 
 back, cried, " Seize it, Turhiigh."* The dog obeyed the command, 
 sprang at the lantern, and laying hold with tooth and limb, clung to it ; 
 but the string was sufficiently powerful to haul up both dog and light 
 to the beam, which fresh trick was accomplished; but Ned was enabled 
 to catch the rope, and seizing the dog, drew him, and with him the 
 lantern, to the platform on which he stood, and, spite of the tugging 
 of the party who still bellowed forth their laughter, held fast, till he 
 was enabled to cut the cord, and regain the light. This he lowered to 
 his friends beneath, and began to descend himself, when he heard the 
 rush of the defeated jesters coming forward to make good the capture 
 of the lantern by downright assault. He hastened his descent, there- 
 fore, and sprang to the ground, just as he heard a voice from the 
 assaulting party exclaim, as the light flashed on the face of the 
 stranger, " 'Tis he, by Heaven !— down with the traitor !" 
 
 " Misther Daly, I know your voice,'' cried Phaidrig-na-pib, " take 
 care what you're about !" 
 
 " Ha ! you rebel rascal !" cried another voice, " you there, too ?" 
 
 " That's Misther Burke," said Phaidrig ; " you'd betther not brake 
 the pace, gintlemin, or see what the mayor will be saying to you 
 to-morrow morning ! " 
 
 There was a momentary parley among the bloods ; but an angry 
 voice (it was Daly's) was heard above them all, saying, " By Heaven, 
 I'll take him on my own responsibility ! " 
 
 At the same moment, his. sword flashed in the lamp-light, and the 
 stranger, knowing the disadvantage in a fight a light is to him who 
 holds it, extinguished it promptly, and drew his sword. His daughter 
 clung to him. 
 
 " Nell, release me," he said, in a low voice, as he freed himself from 
 the obedient girl, who now eagerly seized the arm of any other pro- 
 tector, and that arm was Ned's. He felt the might of giants, and the 
 courage of heroes, at the touch. 
 
 " Seize him ! " again shouted the enraged Daly. 
 
 "Beware, sir," returned the calm but determined voice of the stranger, 
 who stood on his defence. It was only in time, for his blade encoun- 
 tered that of his assailant. The clashing of the swords was the signal 
 for a general fight. That between Daly and the stranger was brief, 
 for the latter was an able swordsman, and, in the dark, had the advan- 
 tage, as being superior in feeling his adversary's blade. A few passes 
 convinced Daly he had enough to do, and a few more made him quite 
 sure the surgeon would have something to do next, for he received a 
 
 * Anglice, " Thunderer." 
 c 
 
18 Jt S, 
 
 severe thrust in the sword arm. His friends, on finding he was 
 wounded, became savage, and rushed on more fiercely, but they were 
 held at bay ; for the blind man's keen sense of hearing enabled him to 
 strike with his heavy stick with wondrous precision ; and, as soon as 
 the dog heard his voice engaged in the fray, the snappish whining 
 which he had uttered on the top of the portico in his desire to get down, 
 was changed for a fierce yell, and springing into the midst of the 
 combatants, he gave the first on whom he alighted an unpleasant 
 memento of the night's amusement. Then, cheered by the voice of 
 his master, he bit at their legs, and gave such terrible annoyance, that 
 the odds were lessened against the little party which yet held the 
 portico ; but still numbers were against them. Fortunately, however, 
 they were enabled, from their position, to keep a close front, the 
 portico in their rear forming a defence for the lady, and leaving her 
 protectors at ease upon her account, certain she could receive no injury 
 amid the storm of blows which were falling thick and fast. Ned 
 had wrested a sword from the first assailant who had fallen foul of 
 him, and though his position in life debarred him from wearing one, 
 he nevertheless knew its use, his genteel propensities having urged 
 him to learn fencing from an old sergeant, who had seen service in the 
 Netherlands. Ned poked away fearlessly, and pricked one of the 
 party pretty smartly, so that the bloods, finding themselves so stoutly 
 resisted, and two of their set wounded, were fain to beat a retreat, 
 venting curses, and threatening vengeance. It may be imagined there 
 was no desire to follow them ; the moment the road was free, the little 
 party who held the portico hurried down the street in an opposite 
 direction, when, to their dismay, two men, bearing lanterns, led by a 
 gentleman who seemed hurrying to the scene of action, appeared 
 coming round an adjacent corner, the leader exclaiming — 
 
 " Peace in the king's name ! keep the peace." 
 
 " By Jakers, that's the mayor !" said Phaidrig. 
 
 " Then strike out the lights, and let us force our way past them," 
 cried the stranger, with more of anxiety in his manner than he had 
 yet exhibited. " You take the right hand one," said he to Ned — 
 " ril manage the other." 
 
 With this determination they advanced, and the demand of the 
 mayor to " stand in the king's name," was answered by eacli lantern- 
 bearer being attacked. He who fell to the stranger's share was over- 
 powered instantly, and the heel of his heavy boot went crash through 
 the lantern ; the other was yet tustling with Ned, when the stranger 
 turned to his assistance, but, in engaging in this service, he himself was 
 collared by the mayor ; whereupon Ned, who had got disengaged, 
 bestowed such a hearty blow under the worthy mayor's ear, that the 
 portly dignitary measure 1 his length beside the first lantern -bearer, 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 19 
 
 over whom he tumbled, as the other was in the act of rising ; this left 
 the third quite helpless, and after laying him sprawling, and extin- 
 guishing the light, the adventurous little party ran for it, the Mind man 
 leading/ at a smart trot, his dog keeping close to him, a little way in 
 advance. 
 
 " Take care of yourself, Phaidrig," said the stranger, as he hurried 
 after with his daughter, beside whom Ned kept up his guard at the 
 other side. 
 
 " Never fear me," answered the piper, " with the help o' Turlough, 
 I could thread the doi'kest lane in the town without spoiling my beauty 
 — mind, a sharp turn to the left here — that's it," and they dived down 
 a narrow alley, as he spoke. " Divil a light we want as far as finding 
 the way goes, only the young misthress will slop her purty little feet ; 
 
 but dirt rubs out aisier than the grip of the mayor's bailiffs Whisht!" 
 
 — and he paused a moment — " by the powers they are afther us hue 
 and cry — dhurry ! hurry !" He quickened his pace, and after one or 
 two more windings, which were executed in silence, the dog stopped 
 before an entrance, and began scraping at the door fiercely. 
 
 " Knock, Phaidrig," said the stranger. 
 
 " No, your honour — no —the knock might be heard by our pursuers, 
 and the scratching can't — but will give them within notice." 
 
 The result proved Phaidrig right ; a step was heard stirring inside 
 the house, and soon after the drawing of a bolt and an open door 
 admitted the fugitives to a timely sanctuary, for the shout of pursuit 
 was heard at the entrance of the " close," and the portal was barely shut 
 and barred, when the heavy tramp of men was heard rushing past, the 
 hunters little suspecting that the thickness of a plank only was between 
 them and the prey they sought. 
 
 The party within made no move till the tramp of the pursuers died 
 away in the distance , then Phaidrig, with a low chuckle spoke. " Close 
 work," said he, " as the undher millstone said to the upper, when there 
 was no corn." 
 
 " 'Twould have been grinding work, sure enough, had we been taken," 
 said the stranger, — " You tremble, Nell," said he in a gentler tone to 
 the girl. 
 
 She only answered by a long-drawn breath. 
 
 " All safe now, my lady," said Phaidrig ; " put your little hand on 
 my arm, and I'll lead you — for we must have no light." 
 
 She obeyed his summons, and was led by the blind man into an 
 apartment, where the low embers of a fire gave a faint glimmer, and 
 where the sound of rushing waters wasTieard. 
 
 The rest of the party followed. 
 
 " Could you get the boat ready soon ?" said Phaidrig. 
 
 He who had opened the door answered in the afiirmative. 
 
 c 2 
 
" Then we had better cross the river, your honour," said the piper ; 
 " for it might come into their heads, them haythens of bailiffs, to go^ 
 searching the neighbourhood, and once we are over the wather intoS 
 the Cladagh, we are safe, for it's more nor a mile round by the bridge, 
 and they could never catch us, even if they got the scent. — Bad luck 
 to the mayor, though he's a worthy man ! why did he come out at all ? 
 it was no harm pinking the bloods, for that's as common as bad luck, 
 but knockin' down the mayor will make a stir, I tell you, in Galway, 
 where they are so proud o' their privileges — there is no standin' the 
 consait of the mayors of Galway, ever since Walther Lynch hanged 
 his son — get ready the boat, Mike." 
 
 The stranger now addressed Ned in terms of thankfulness for his 
 first polite assistance, and for his gallant bearing in the riot, and con- 
 cluded by expressing his regret that he should have been involved in 
 such a serious brawl, with hopes it would be of no material injury to him. 
 
 " Faix, he's in throuble, I tell you," said Phaidrig. " Sure it was 
 himself that gave the mayor the polthoge that upset him— faix, my 
 young masther, you have a delicate taste, considering your youth and 
 inexperience, that nothing less than a mayor would sarve you." 
 
 " 'Twas in my defence," said the stranger ; " and I regret, young 
 sir," said he to Ned, " that my circumstances are not such as to offer 
 you pi-otection adequate to the risk you have encountered for my sake." 
 
 Ned made a flourishing speech here, declaring he never was so 
 happy in his life — that to render a service to a gentleman — and — a 
 lady — and Ned stammered as he dared to allude to the lovely cause of 
 his dilemma. 
 
 " Indeed, sir, I thank you," said the girl, in a sweet voice. 
 
 Ned felt more than rewarded, even if he fell into the power of the 
 offended magistrate. 
 
 Phaidrig here quitted the chamber, to " hurry Mike with the boat," 
 as he said ; but as he left the room, another person entered, and 
 approached the stranger and his daughter, with whom he conversed] 
 in an under tone ; and even the glimmering light cast by the fire, 
 enabled Edward to see that his bearing towards both indicated the 
 most intimate familiarity between the parties. In a few minutes the 
 father was silent, and the conversation continued in low whispers 
 between the lady and the young cavalier, while the father, as if lostj 
 in thought, threw himself into an old chair that stood before the 
 fire-place, and, as if unconsciously, began to stir the dying embers 
 with the toe of his heavy riding boot. A bright flame flickered 
 from the smouldering heap, and revealed to Edward the person of 
 young Kirwan, whose attitude was expressive of the most devoted 
 attention, as he still continued to converse, in whispers, with the 
 attentive girl. 
 
S S^j-^sv^-- 
 
 . :^^^. 
 
 
 r,ondon:K [•OTei^.Aldin^ Chaui^crG.l^ternoctcr Ro-w. IP-it^ 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 21 
 
 Edward felt anything but comfortable, as he witnessed the courtly 
 address of the handsome Kirwan to the lady. The folly of such a 
 feeling was apparent to himself, yet still he could not conquer it ; the 
 influence that had been cast over him by his admiration of the morn- 
 ing, and the adventure of the night, seemed to himself as extraordinary 
 as it was unreasonable. Why should he be angered that the gay and 
 gallant Kirwan should pay his court to a lady of his own rank, immea- 
 surably above a trader's son, and to whom he might not address a phrase 
 beyond that of the humblest courtesy ? His heart could only answer 
 with a sigh ! This being, whom he had seen but twelve hours since, 
 with whom he had not exchanged twelve words, and to w^hom he dare 
 not aspire, nevertheless had filled his heart with passion ; the pang of 
 hopeless love was there, aggravated by the seeming favour in which 
 another was held, and poor Ned became the prey of a jealousy as 
 intense as it was absurd. 
 
 With a painful watchfulness he marked how closely they talked 
 together, while Kirwan held the lady's hand all the time. He would 
 gladly, at that moment, have engaged the favoured cavalier at the 
 sword's point ! 
 
 Phaidrig now returned, and announced the boat " ready." Ellen's 
 father rose, and taking Kirwan by the hand, said, " Here we part for 
 the present. You shall know where to find me — farewell !" 
 
 " Farewell ! " returned the other, with an energy of manner, and 
 hearty shaking of hands, denoting between the parties deep interest, 
 and warm fellowship. 
 
 " Allow me," said the stranger, " to recommend to your care this 
 youth, whose brave assistance makes me so much his debtor, and places 
 him in some jeopardy for the present. You, I am sure, will give him 
 shelter." 
 
 " Willingly," said Kirwan. 
 
 Ned recoiled from the thought of accepting safety at such hands, 
 and replied, that he did not fear returning at once to his own home. 
 
 " Baidershin !" said Phaidrig, " how bowld we are !" Then 
 addressing the stranger, he added, " If your honour will be advised 
 by me, you will take him over the river with you, for, 'pon my con- 
 science, the sweet town of Galway is no place for my young masther 
 to-night." 
 
 " Be it so," said the stranger ; " and now for the boat." Kirwan 
 offered his arm with courtly grace to Ellen, but her father drew her 
 arm within his own, and said, " A truce to compliments now. You 
 shall hand her to her carriage, when we see you at " 
 
 Ned could not catch the name of the place the stranger said. Ellen, 
 and her father, hurried from the chamber, and Phaidrig, talving Ned 
 
22 c^ S. (U 
 
 by the arm, the party proceeded in silence and darkness, along a 
 passage, through which a current of cold air was felt, and the roar 
 of a rushing torrent heard ; a small door was reached, which opened 
 directly over the rapids that hurry the foaming waters of Lough Corrib 
 to the sea, below the ancient bridge. The sheet of white foam was 
 visible in the darkness, and made the boat, some feet below the door, 
 perceptible, as it plunged on the eddying current. 
 
 " Let the heaviest go first," said Phaidrig, " 'twill steady the boat." 
 The stranger going on his knees, and laying hold of the threshold of 
 the door with his hands, let himself down till his feet touched the 
 gunwale of the boat, where, taking his seat, he called out to the piper 
 to take care of his daughter. 
 
 " Now, my lady, steady — don't be afeard," said the piper — " don't be 
 angry with my rough fist for taking a sharp grip o' you; give your 
 other hand to the young gentleman at the other side." 
 
 Ellen silently obeyed the instruction, and a thrill of pleasure ^hot 
 through Ned's heart as he held firmly the delicate hand of the girl, in 
 assisting to lower her to the boat, where her father received and placed 
 her in safety beside him. 
 
 "Now, young master, in with you," said Phaidrig. 
 
 " Had not you better go first?" said Ned. " I may assist you from 
 above." 
 
 " My own grip is worth all the assistance in the world," said Phai- 
 drig, — " obliged to you, all the same. I go bail PU not leave go of 
 the threshold till I feel a good howlt with my foot in the boat." 
 
 Edward lost no time in obeying, and the piper followed in safety. — 
 *' Off with you now, Mike !" said he. 
 
 The boat swept down the current as he spoke. 
 
 "Where's the dog!" cried Ellen, anxiously. 
 
 A splash in the water followed her words. 
 
 " There he goes," said Phaidrig; " his own bowld heart and strong 
 paws would put him over a wilder stream than this ; the dog who 
 can't swim is only fit for drowning." 
 
 The boat now plunged over the boiling waves of the rapid, and 
 Ellen instinctively held her father with a close embrace as they hurried 
 through the hissing foam, which soon, however, became less and less 
 as they swept onward, the waters gradually darkening as they 
 deepened, streaked only here and there with long lines of surge, and 
 the heavy gurgling of a strong current succeeding the roar which had 
 appalled the ear of Ellen. 
 
 They were soon enabled to pull the boat shoreward from out of the 
 current; and, as they touched the strand, Turloughwas waiting, ready 
 to receive the party, snorting, and shaking the waters of Corrib from 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 23 
 
 his brave sides ; a few minutes more placed them all under the shelter 
 of a fisherman's cottage, and, while horses were being prepared for the 
 stranger and his daughter, the former repeated his thanks to Ned, 
 shaking him heartily by the hand, and commending him to the care of 
 the fisherman. The latter promised safe keeping of him for the pre- 
 sent, and undertook to communicate with Ned's friends in the town, 
 on the morrow, swearing " by the hand of his gossip," that he would 
 have good care of the youth, for " his honour's sake" 
 
 The nags were soon ready, and Ellen was lifted to her saddle by her 
 father ; but, before parting, the gentle girl presented her hand to 
 Edward, and expressed a fervent hope he might incur no injury from 
 his generous conduct. 
 
 Edward stammered an unintelligible reply, and ventured to press 
 the. little hand. The next instant the horses were in motion; the 
 rapid clatter of their feet up the stony path died away in the distance, 
 and Ned, with a sinking heart, retired to the fisher's hut. Burning 
 with curiosity to know who these gentlefolks might be, he thought 
 the fisherman would inform him, and asked a question with that view ; 
 but the fisherman, returning him a glance that had in it much of 
 displeasure, replied : — " They did not tell me who they were, sir, 
 and I asked no questions." Ned felt the reproof keenly ;— it seemed 
 there was some mystery about the stranger, and then, for the first 
 time, Ned began to consider in what an awkward adventure he had 
 become involved. 
 
24 
 
 £ s. cL 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The next morning the fisherman, at Edward's request, went into the 
 town to communicate with worthy Mister Corkery, who already had 
 heard an exaggerated account of his son's adventure, so that the real 
 truth, though bad enough, lifted a weight of horrors from his civic 
 heart, which had sunk to the lowest depths of despair at the thought 
 of the city's peace being broken by a boy of his, and the daring hand 
 of Corkery lifted against the mayor, and that the mayor of Galway. 
 When he found, however, that Ned had not murdered six men, as 
 was reported, and only tripped up the mayor, (through that was dreadful,) 
 he was more comfortable, but desired Ned to lie quiet, and he would 
 write to him in the evening. All that day the trader worked hard at 
 a letter, which was a mighty task to him, and at night the fisherman 
 returned, and bore to Ned his father's epistle: — 
 
 " Deer Ned, 
 
 " Mi hart is Sore, and the mare's hed kut, and His 
 Wig will nevr doo a Dais gud, the Barbr tells me, fur sai-tin — his 
 blew and gool kote all gutthur. O Ned, to tutch a mare is a foalish 
 bizniz, — i no foalish aut to bee spelt with a yew, but I kan't make a 
 YEW to know it from an en. Yew must get out oflf this kounthry for 
 sum tim — praps the sailorin bizniz is the best now til The storee is 
 past and gone, and when y' unfortnate tale is not tuk up by the foals, 
 but let too dhrop, w** is the prair of y*" offended but afekshint father, 
 
 " Denis Corkery." 
 
 " i send 5 ginnys by the barer, for the rod to Dublin, wher Mc 
 Guffins ship iz — ax for the industhery, tliatz hur nam — you will see 
 hur on the blind K. 
 
 " lite gool duz for the rod, so the ginny's iz lite. 
 
 " mi hart is lievvy, Ned. 
 
 " i wood go see yew ned, but Am afeerd they w^ watch and trak 
 me, for y^ mares i iz on mee. 
 
 " Beewer ov bad Kumpiny. " Yours, D. C." 
 
 Ned, in obedience to orders, prepared to start for Dublin ; he wrote 
 an obedient and repentant letter to his father, hoping forgiveness, and 
 promising good behaviour for the future. In the dead of night, when 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 25 
 
 the slumbering majesty of Gal way's civic dignity rendered it most 
 convenient to make a start, Ned set out for the metropolis, and, before 
 dawn, had put several miles between himself and danger. Dublin was 
 reached in safety, and as swiftly as Ned could accomplish it; and on 
 the Blind quay, sure enough, he found the good brig. Industry, and 
 the exemplary Captain McGuffin, who was to sail with the next tide 
 for London. 
 
 Before Ned was over the bar, it was all over with him. Sea- 
 sickness contributes much to feelings of repentance, and Ned began to 
 entertain flattering notions of the susceptibility of his conscience, 
 which his stomach was more entitled to ; he wished for nothing so 
 much as death, and hoped the Land's End w;ould have made an end of 
 him; but he survived the Channel, and, after doubling the North 
 Foreland, found his appetite again. On passing the Nore, he was as 
 fresh as a lark, and while tacking up the Thames nearly created a 
 famine on board. After this, Ned liked the sea well enough; in short, 
 it suited him perfectly. 
 
 In some respects, he felt that, under certain circumstances, he 
 could love it ; but the captain of the trader was a sober, steady 
 man ; and the monotonous life on board of a merchant- vessel, whose 
 voyages were confined to the British waters, had not enough of 
 excitement and interest for a spirit like his. Nevertheless, he 
 served nearly eighteen months in this way, patiently looking forward, 
 however, to better things some day, on board of a nobler craft, whose 
 wings might be spread for longer flights. During all this time, many 
 a fond thought reverted to the fair girl of the race-course, whose image 
 was as fresh in his memory as though he had seen her yesterday. But, 
 notwithstanding this youthful love- sickness, he employed himself 
 diligently to become as good a sailor as circumstances could make him, 
 and, for a mere coasting mariner, was a very smart fellow. Ever, on 
 his return from sea to Dublin, which was the port whence the vessel 
 traded, Ned found a letter from his father waiting for him, in which 
 lamentations for his " foolish bit of consait" in the streets of Gal way 
 continued to be made, with recommendations to keep away for some 
 time yet, as it was " not forgotten to him." Sobriety, industry, and 
 frugality, were recommended, with this assurance, that 
 
 " Early to bed, and early to rise, 
 Make a man healthy, -wealthy, and wise ;" 
 
 and, furthermore, this solemn fact was put forward, that — 
 
 " A pin a day, is a groat a year." 
 On the receipt of such letters, Ned generally muttered, that he wished 
 his father would send him a little less advice, and a little more money. 
 
26 £ s. d. 
 
 But in uttering tliis wish, Ned was unreasonable. The old man, 
 though frugal, was not parsimonious ; and allowed his son quite enough 
 to enable him to enjoy himself reasonably on shore, when the duties of 
 his ship did not demand his presence on board ; for it was no part of 
 his intention that Ned should be screwed down to all the hardships of 
 a sailor's life, though he did not wish to make that life too fascinating 
 to a young fellow of naturally an erratic turn. He remembered that 
 Ned, when in port at Dublin, must see some friends there, and it 
 would never do for a respectable citizen of Galway to let his son 
 appear in the " slops" of a captain's mate. — No, no ; Ned was well 
 supplied with the means of casting his marine attire, and assuming a 
 landsman's garb befitting his station ashore ; and from his innate ten- 
 dency towards gentility, his clothes were rather of a smarter cut than 
 he had quite a right to indulge in, and certainly far finer than he 
 would have dared to assume in Galway, where his father's eyes, to 
 say nothing of neighbours', were as good as sumptuary laws. Con- 
 sidering the old man rather objected to the pursuit of the maritime 
 profession for his son, it may be wondered at he did not make him 
 feel as much privation as possible, in the hope of inducing a distate 
 for it ; but, on the other hand, when it is remembered that an only son 
 was forced to seek shelter on board ship, to save himself from the con- 
 sequences of a mischance ; that he was forced to fly his native town, 
 and that without even the paternal embrace, who can blame a father 
 for having yearnings of compassion for his absent boy, and seeking to 
 make his exile as bearable as it might be ? 
 
 Truth, however, compels us to say that Ned thought much more 
 of the beauty of the race-course than of his father ; and the decking 
 of his person in something of a superior costume, was insensibly in- 
 fluenced by the desire to see himself look as well as possible for her 
 sake, though, in all human probability, he should never see her again. 
 But this is no reason why an ardent imagination is not to think of an 
 object by which it has been excited ; and, in truth, there was seldom 
 a day in which Ned's heart did not wander to the recollection of the 
 day he first saw her — that eventful day, which brought love in the 
 morning, pleasure at sundown, and jealousy before midnight. 
 
 He was not mad enough to suppose, in his wildest moments of 
 dreaming, that the events of that day could ever "come to anything ;" 
 but still the recollection of them clung about his heart, and though be 
 dared not hope, he could not forget. 
 
 How many a night, on his cold and dreary watch, did the memory 
 of the parting pressure of the fair girl's hand return upon him ! At 
 such moments he would pace the deck, and, looking upwards at the 
 stars, inwardly exclaim, " Oh, that I could see her once again ! — Yet 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 27 
 
 why indulge in these foolish yearnings ? — As well might one of those 
 stars be mine, as that lovely being !" 
 
 Perchance a shooting star darted across the heavens as he spoke, and 
 as its brightness vanished, Ned, indulging the superstitious fancy of 
 his country, would curse his stupidity for not wishing for her while 
 the star was falling.* 
 
 At length it chanced his ship was ordered to Hamburgh, and Ned 
 was delighted at the thoughts of making a foreign port, which, in good 
 time, was achieved ; and, after discharging cargo, he lost no oppor- 
 tunity, while lying in port, to see all he could of this far-famed city. 
 The remarkable and picturesque costumes of the surrounding neigh- 
 bourhood — the grotesque old houses which towered aver its canals, 
 which, like so many veins of wealth, carried commerce into the heart of 
 the town, — its ancient churches, its dancing-halls and theatre — all 
 these, and more, filled Ned with wonder, and fed that greedy desire 
 which youth always has for novelty. 
 
 But exploring different quarters of the city was his principal pursuit; 
 and, in doing this, he had occasion to remark the absurd custom of the 
 Hamburghers in the profuse use of carriages in streets so narrow and 
 so crooked, that their vehicles could scarcely get on, from the mutual 
 impediments they presented. In one of these frequent "Jams," just as 
 one coach was passing another, he caught sight of a face that set his 
 heart all in a flame : it seemed the face of the beautiful girl of the 
 race-course, and he- sprang forward, in hopes to assure himself it was 
 so; but the coach became disentangled before he could look into it, and 
 drove on; — he pursued it, but could not overtake it, and it soon turned 
 into a gateway, which, when Ned reached, was closed. He lingered 
 about the place for some time, provoked and disappointed; he could 
 not be satisfied whether his notion was true or not; he could not even 
 ask to whom the house belonged, for he was ignorant of the language; 
 so he was forced to retire in a state of excited imagination, which not 
 only deprived him of sleep that night, but kept him on the alert for 
 several days, as he became possessed more and more with the idea, 
 that the beautiful girl was in Hamburgh. 
 
 Full of this notion, he looked into every carriage he saw, frequented 
 the theatre and other public places more, and made a point of going 
 to " The Maiden's Walk," at the hour it was most frequented. Just as 
 he was one day entering upon it, the truth of his surmise was realised; 
 he saw the idol of his wild passion at the opposite side of the canal, 
 going to church, as he thought, from the servant who followed her, with 
 a prayer-book hanging upon one arm suspended by a silver chain, and 
 
 * The superstitious say that if you express a wish before a shooting star vanishes, 
 it will be realized. 
 
28 £ S. d. 
 
 a brass stove suspended from the other. The canal lay between them, 
 and he looked out for a boat, and, perceiving one lying opportunely 
 near a neighbouring stair, ran towards it, and, springing into it, almost 
 like one who was crazy, astonished the phlegmatic German by his 
 urgent signs for speed, which the boatman, who was smoj^ing his pipe, 
 not being willing to obey, Ned seized the oars himself, and pulled 
 vigorously across the canal, on whose opposite bank he sprang, without 
 paying Mynherr, who was at once stimulated to activity ; and a double 
 chase ensued — Ned after the girl, and the boatman after Ned: it made 
 quite a sensation on the Maiden's "Walk to see a handsome young fellow 
 hunted by a pursy boatman, hallooing after him a " thousand devils," 
 and swearing for his deme7\ Ned heeded not; he had caught sight of the 
 last fold of his fair one's skirt, as she went round a corner, and for 
 that corner Ned made all speed; but when he reached it, out of breath, 
 no lady was to be seen, but the fat boatman was close at his heels, 
 saying a great deal to Ned, which it was well for the boatman Ned did 
 not understand; but guessing the cause of his pursuit, and remembering 
 he had forgotten to pay him, he threw him a groot, and continued his 
 search. The boatman caught the coin, and looked at this increase of 
 the sum demanded with wonder, (though it was only a penny,) and, 
 raising his eyes to heaven, ejaculated an aspiration to the Deity, with 
 the remark, " What extravagant robbers are the English!" 
 
 Ned searched every church in the neighbourhood, in hopes of finding 
 the object of his wishes, but in vain; indeed, it was useless, for the 
 service was over in all. So the lady had been returning from, not 
 going to, church, as her pursuer thought. — Ah! lovers are very liable 
 to make mistakes ! 
 
 The theatre he now thought the most likely place to see her, and 
 here he constantly resorted. It was the last place he would have gone 
 to, otherwise, for, not knowing the language, the entertainment could 
 not be very amusing, though indeed, for that matter, any one might 
 understand the greater part of it as well as the liamburghers, for it 
 consisted, principally, of practical witticism, such as cuffs and kicks, 
 smart boxes on the ear, hearty cudgellings, alternated with hugs and 
 kisses. Nevertheless, all this buffoonery our hero sat out, night after 
 night, in the hope of seeing this phantom of beauty, which seemed 
 to appear only to elude him. At last his perseverance was rewarded. 
 One night, as he was talking to an obliging stranger, who could speak 
 English, and had been explaining some passage in the play, he 
 saw the lovely girl, listening to what appeared to be courtly compli-' 
 ments paid to her, judging from the gracious manner of the hand- 
 somely dressed person from whom they proceeded, and the half diffi- 
 dent, yet smiling, manner in which they were receivetl.' 
 
_! . u«=-r^^t.to,. Hn^A, ^n■^>^ 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 29 
 
 Ned was breathless ! — there was the beauty of the race-course ! — 
 she, for whose sake he had engaged in a street riot, angered his father, 
 and was forced to fly his native town, and for whom he would have 
 made far greater sacrifices. 
 
 There is nothing, perhaps, so totally subversive of self-possession 
 as the unexpected sight of one we love. It paralyzes by the too great 
 intensity of its nervous excitement. It smites the heart to its very 
 core, and the stream of life is arrested in its course ;— we cease to 
 breathe ; — every function of life seems suspended, but that of sight ; — 
 the eye usurps, as it were, the power all other organs have lost, and 
 we can only gaze. 
 
 Ned was disturbed from this state of fascination by a tap on the 
 shoulder from his obliging neighbour, who had acted interpreter. 
 
 " I say, sir, that's the star you sail by, I reckon," said the new 
 acquaintance, with a knowing toss of his head towards the quarter 
 where Ned was still gazing in admiring wonderment. 
 
 Ned could neither speak nor withdraw his eyes. 
 
 " Hillo !" added his friend, " dumb-foundered — eh? If you can't 
 speak, you'll never win a woman." 
 
 Ned attempted a faint smile. 
 
 " Where did you see her before ?" 
 
 " Before ?" echoed Ned. 
 
 " Ay — before. No one ever looked at a woman for the first time, 
 as you did at her," said the other, sharply. 
 
 " I saw her in Ireland." 
 
 " Ireland ?~ho, ho— shouldn't wonder ! — but it's rather a hot place, 
 I should say, for Count Nellinski. 
 
 " A count ?" echoed Ned, in surprise. 
 
 "Oh — counts are common enough in Ja-armanyV returned his 
 informant, with a laugh. 
 
 " She is going," said Ned, looking up at the box, and rising to follow 
 her example. 
 
 "And you are going, too?" said the stranger. 
 
 " Yes.'' 
 
 " I don't care if I do the same — the play is dull work." Ned 
 hurried to the entrance, and watched eagerly fqr the appearance of the 
 beautiful girl, but in vain, and after some time perceived his new 
 acquaintance standing near him. 
 
 " Can't see her, eh?" was the question he put, while a provoking 
 smile played across his countenance. 
 
 Ned answered in the negative, with a chagrined air, upon which the 
 other laughed outright, saying, he was watching at the wrong entrance, 
 for that the game was flown by another. 
 
£0 £ s, d, 
 
 Ned was half inclined to be angry at the seeming enjoyment the 
 other took in his disappointment, till, with a voice of the most cheery 
 kindness, the stranger slapped him on the shoulder, and said, 
 
 " Never fret, man!" — I know the hotel she stops at, the Kaiser-ltoff ; 
 see her there, if so be you want it. Come along and sup with me — 
 the Weinkeller furnishes good tipple and victual — come !" 
 
 So saying, he drew the yielding arm of Ned within his, and they bent 
 their course to a celebrated cellar, then of great repute in Hamburgh, 
 where the best company in the city, both natives and strangers, 
 resorted to drink Hock, of which wine this cellar contained the 
 choicest store, whence the government drew a large revenue. On 
 their entrance, Ned saw but a confused mass of people, for the dense 
 tobacco-smoke in which they were enveloped rendered a clear per- 
 ception of any distant object difficult ; and, as soon as they could find 
 a seat, he and his companion had a flask of right Johannesberg set" 
 before them, which Ned at that moment was most willing to enjoy, as 
 he considered himself under the influence of the happiest fortune in 
 having met, in the person of a stranger, one who gave him the means 
 of once more seeing the lovely being who so enslaved him. 
 
 The stranger filled his glass, and spoke ; — " My service to you, 
 
 Mister what's your name, if I may make bold to ask ? — mine is 
 
 Hudson Finch, at your service." 
 
 " Mine is Fitzgerald," said Ned, who was ashamed to give so vulgar 
 a one as his own to so dashing a gentleman ; but he blushed as he 
 spoke, for the ghost of the departed name of " Corkery" rose up 
 reprovingly before him. But he swallowed his shame and a glass of 
 Rhenish together, to the health of Mr. Finch, who returned the like 
 civility to Mr. Fitzgerald, with the remark, that it was a good name. 
 Ned thought, at the moment, that good names, like other good things, 
 had the greatest chance of being stolen. 
 
 Finch now pointed out to him several persons among the company 
 worthy of note, with amusing anecdotes of almost every one he 
 indicated. 
 
 " Do you see those two in yonder corner ? " 
 
 " Smoking and drinking so hard?" asked Ned. 
 
 " The same. Now, I would wager a trifle those two poor devils 
 are spending here to-night every stiver they are worth." 
 
 " Why do you guess so ?" 
 
 " They are young graduates in law : — now, how do you think they 
 live?" 
 
 " By their profession, I suppose," said Ned. 
 
 " No, but by their jn'ocessions.^^ 
 
 " How do you mean ? '\ 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 31 
 
 These younger graduates, sir, have scarcely enough to keep life 
 and soul together. There is not a Ildringsfrau in all Hamburgh 
 who does not know the whole tribe; for pickled herrings and beer are 
 what they mostly live upon, and the " God-send" of a procession alone 
 can enable them to show their noses in the Weinheller. 
 
 " But you have not yet explained to me about these same pro- 
 cessions." 
 
 " Why, sir, these proud citizens of Hamburgh love processions 
 almost as well as beer and tobacco, and the smallest occasion is seized 
 upon to get one up ; sometimes to present an address to somebody, 
 for nobody knows what ; and as a procession is nothing without good 
 company, these younger members of the learned profession are regu- 
 larly engaged and paid to make the thing look respectable, and render 
 the compliment greater." 
 
 " And is this well known ?" 
 
 " As well known as the Bank." 
 
 " Then how ridiculous to have recourse to it, when all the world 
 can see through " 
 
 " Through the ' humbug,^ you were going to say ? — My good sir, 
 is not the world itself one great humbug ? " 
 
 " I confess that's new to me," said Ned, simply. 
 
 " Because you are new to the world," was the other's prompt reply. 
 " How many forms, laws, customs, names, et cetera, et cetera, are 
 bowed down to — how many things are in a flourishing existence round 
 us, which are rank humbugs — which are known to be humbugs — 
 admitted to be humbugs — and yet are not only permitted to exist, but 
 respected ? Oh, my dear young friend ! Monsieur the World has 
 a very large nose ; and whoever, whichever, or whatever, can lay hold 
 of it. Monsieur the World, follows as tamely as a lamb." 
 
 This outpouring of contempt for the world made Ned think 
 Mister Finch a very clever man. He remarked, however, that he thought 
 the Germans more prudent than to spend their money on one expen- 
 sive entertainment, when they were forced to live mostly, as Finch said, 
 on pickled herrings and beer. 
 
 " My dear fellow, that is a part of their game," said Finch. " They 
 must have good clothes, and be seen sometimes rubbing skirts with 
 gentility, or they would lose their employment." 
 
 " Oh ! I perceive," said Ned. 
 
 " For instance, those fellows who are so jolly over there, I saw this 
 very day, in a funeral procession, looking as if their hearts would 
 break. The deceased was a tailor, whose kith and kin prided them- 
 selves on having law students among the mourners. Very likely they 
 got a new suit of clothes on the occasion; — but, hold— look over there! 
 — do you not perceive ?" 
 
Ned looked in the desired direction, and was delighted to see his 
 bronzed friend of the race-course — the Count Nellinski himself. Ned i_ 
 would have given the world to speak to him, but the count wa»a| 
 engaged in earnest conversation with a military man, of iron aspect ; 
 so earnest, that Ned felt it would have been intrusion to attempt a 
 word with him: therefore he continued to listen to Finch's lively 
 raillery, though, truth to say, he did not comprehend much of it, so ™ 
 totally was his attention absorbed by the father of the lovely Ellen. M 
 
 This distraction of mind, however, did not long continue, for the 
 count soon after rose, with his companion, and retired. Ned looked 
 hard at him, in hopes to catch his eye as he passed out, but the 
 count seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to heed external 
 objects. Ned consoled himself with the hope that he should see 
 him on the morrow, at the Kaiser-hoff. 
 
 As no object now intervened to disturb his present enjoyment, Ned 
 did the duty of the hour like a man, and, after a jolly supper and a 
 merry drinking bout, the acquaintances separated, Ned thanking 
 fortune over and over again for the chance she had cast in his 
 way; but the slippery jade was laughing in secret at Ned all the 
 time, for she was at that moment but playing him a scurvy trick ; for 
 when, after a night of feverish dreaming, in which a German supper, 
 strong Rhenish, and love, strove for mastery, Ned rose with a hot 
 head, and hotter heart, and, making himself as smart as he could, set 
 out for the Kaiser-hoff to inquire after his enchantress, he heard, to 
 his utter dismay, that the Count Nellinski and his daughter had left 
 Hamburgh that morning. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 33 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 When wo have made up our mind to some great pleasure, and 
 feasted by anticipation on the sweets imagination spreads before us — 
 when thus hope forestalls reality, we purchase our joys in a very dear 
 market. Plow bankrupt in heart we feel, after thus drawing on the 
 future, to find our cheque returned with the answer, " No effects !" 
 It was thus with poor Ned, when he inquired with the most " galliard" 
 a'r he could assume at the Kaiserhoff for his fair one and her father, 
 nnd found they were gone. His look became so suddenly changed, 
 so utterly blank, that even the slow -going German could not help 
 noticing his disappointment. 
 
 Ned was transfixed with dismay for some seconds, and stood in 
 sorrowful silence before the door of the hotel, till catching the cold 
 eye of the German fixed upon him with something like a smile 
 upon his countenance, a sense of shame came over him, and he 
 walked down the street. But he could not leave it ; — there he stayed, 
 looking at the house where she had been, while a quick succes- 
 sion of fond imaginings whirled through his head, and drove the 
 l)lood rapidly through his heart. The gentle speeches he thought he 
 should have made to her, and had almost gotten by heart, (he went 
 over them so often in anticipation of the interview,) recurred to him, 
 and seemed to mock at his fond yearnings. " Hard fate I " he muttered 
 to himself; " cruel disappointment I at the instant I thought I should 
 address her once more — once more touch that dear hand — at such 
 a moment to have my hopes dashed, and made the very sport and 
 mockery of circumstance. 'Tis hard ! alas ! 'tis doomed — doomed — 
 I am never to see her again — never. Yet why should I seek it ? the 
 daughter of a count — cursed infatuation ! — No, not cursed ; call it 
 fatal, but nothing can be cursed that springs from such an angelic 
 cause ! O Ellen ! Ellen ! — I know my own unworthiness — I know 
 the hopeless folly of my passion, but I cannot resist its fatal influence ; 
 the deadly, yet darling poison is in my heart, and nought but death or 
 you can assuage the pain," With these and other such exclamations 
 lie wandered up and down the street, and after some time w^ished he 
 could even enter the apartments she had last occupied. " Were it only 
 to pace the room she trod," said he ; " to see the table where she sat, 
 to touch the chair she occupied, to look in the mirror which late 
 
 p 
 
reflected that lovely face, to stand in the deep recess of the window 
 where she had stood — even this were a sad pleasure : — I will return to 
 the hotel and try if I cannot accomplish it." Acting upon the words, 
 lie retraced his steps to the Kaiserhoff, and by means of some few 
 w^ords of English, understood by an attendant of the house, and some 
 pieces of silver on the part of the lover, he contrived to be shown the 
 apartment whence the Count Nellinski and his daughter had so 
 recently departed. It was yet in that state of litter which the room 
 of a hotel always exhibits after the " parting guest" has retired, ere 
 the order has been restored which may welcome the "coming" one. 
 Edward's imagination occupied the deserted chamber with its recent 
 lovely visitant, as he cast his eyes around ;— she had reclined on that 
 couch — that little quaint table of marquetry was for a lady's use — 
 there was a pen upon it — she might have used it ; he would have taken 
 it, but the eyes of the attendant were upon him, and he felt ashamed 
 of exposing a weakness which, nevertheless, he did not blame himself 
 for entertaining. Oh ! that exposure, how many love fooleries does its 
 terror prevent ! Peeping from behind the cushions of a large easy 
 chair was a little glove, which Ned determined to have, but stiU the 
 presence of the attendant was a check upon him ; feigning extreme 
 thirst, he asked for a glass of water, which the attendant retired to 
 procure; and the instant Edward was free from observation, he 
 pounced upon the glove with hawk- like avidity, and dragged from 
 beneath the cushion a morsel of music-paper also, whereon a few notes 
 were pricked down, to which a few words were attached. Ned paused 
 not to read them, but thrust glove and music inside his waistcoat — • 
 seized on the pen, and perceiving in a far corner a few flowers which 
 seemed a discarded bouquet, ran to secure them ere the attendant could 
 return ; and when he had sipped a mouthful of the water which was 
 presented to him, in an instant after hurried from the house in the 
 pride of his plunder, and it is a question if he would have exchanged 
 these trifles for all the plate in the Kaiserhoff. He did not feel quite 
 secure of his booty till he had turned the corner of the street, and 
 then hastened to his quarters to deposit his treasure in safety. There 
 ]ie folded up his flowers — not a leaf was permitted to be lost ; — he dated 
 the paper with the purloined pen — he drew forth the glove and kissed 
 it passionately, between fond ejaculations, — kissed it on the inside 
 where the dear hand had been. O Ned ! Ned ! how desperately, 
 irretrievably over head and ears in love wert thou ! So intent was he 
 in his love-sick occupation, that he did not hear the entrance of his 
 hostess into his room, and the first notice he had of her presence was 
 an exclamation behind his chair, as he imprinted one of his wild kisses 
 on the little glove. 
 
 "3Iei7i GottV exclaimed a fat squashy sort of ^•oice, which, when 
 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 3.') 
 
 tlie words were uttered, went on with a guttural chuckle, while Ned 
 turned round, startled and looking as foolish as if lie had Ijcen caught 
 robbing the good Avoman's cupboard. The situation was absurd 
 enough, (Ned thought it disgusting,) that while his imagination was 
 filled with the form of a sylph, and rapt in the secret idolatry of love, 
 he should be startled by the presence of a fat frau, and have his sweet 
 visions broken by the laugh of derision. 
 
 He thrust the glove into his breast, in the vain endeavour to conceal 
 it from the landlady ; but she only laughed the louder, pointing first 
 inside his waistcoat, and then to her own fat fist, on which she 
 impressed a great smacking kiss, and shook with laughter again, 
 exclaiming in the intervals of her cachination, " Mein Gott ! " 
 
 On Ned desiring to know what this interruption meant, she pointed 
 to the door, and said, " Herr Finch ;" at the same moment ascending 
 footsteps were heard on the stairs, and Ned's acquaintance of the 
 Weinkellar soon made his appearance. As he entered the room, the 
 landlady, still laughing, repeated the piece of pantomime towards 
 Edward, and bestowing another smack on her hand, and gurgling up 
 " Mein Gott ! " retired and shut the door. 
 
 "Hillol" said Finch, "what insinuation is this, my friend? have 
 you been kissing your landlady ? " 
 
 " Kiss he?'?" exclaimed Ned, with a curl on his lip as though it 
 were on the brink of a cup of rhubarb. 
 
 Finch laughed outright at the expression of nausea which the 
 insinuated gallantry had produced, and asked if Ned thought he had so 
 poor an opinion of his taste. 
 
 " But did you prosper in the other affair ? " continued he. " Have 
 you been to the Kaiserhoff? " 
 
 " Yes," said Ned, with a sigh. 
 
 "What! sighing?" said Finch; "a sigh is the worst wind that 
 blows, — 'tis the very wind of the proverb that * blows nobody good :' 
 — was she denied ? or was she cruel ? " 
 
 " She is gone ! " said Ned, with an air of despondency worthy of a 
 criminal going to execution. 
 
 " Pho ! is that all ?" said Finch. " Can't you go after her ? " 
 
 " I know not where they are gone to," said Ned. 
 
 " And what have you a tongue in your head for ?" replied Finch. 
 
 " But even if I did," returned Ned, " I cannot follow tliem ; and 
 after all, if I could — what's the use ?" 
 
 '•What's the use?" cried his friend, in surprise; ^'what's the use of 
 following the girl you love ? — what a question ! " 
 
 " Oh!" sighed Ned, "if you knew all; — were you but aware — " 
 he paused, and looked wistfully into Finch's face, as though he would 
 make him his confident. Young, inexperienced, and of an ardent 
 
3(> £ s, (I, 
 
 nature, he longed to liave some one to whom he might unburthen his 
 heart, and this seemed the only chance for it. Extending his hand to 
 Finch, who took it cordially, Ned exclaimed, "It seems to be my 
 destiny that my love and friendship must be of the mushroom nature — 
 both the growth of one night." 
 
 " But not so soon to perish, I hope," said Finch, shaking his hand 
 warmly. 
 
 Ned returned the genial pressure, and continued, " I know not how 
 it is, but I feel myself drawn towards you in a most unaccountable 
 way, and if you will have patience to listen, I will tell you all about 
 tliis romantic affair." 
 
 " I will listen willingly," said Finch ; " but don't be so down in the 
 mouth, man," he added, slapping Ned on the shoulder, " ' Faint heart 
 never won fair lady.' " 
 
 Taking a seat after uttering this cheering exhortation, he threw 
 himself back, and showed he was resigned to the operation Edward 
 proposed. 
 
 Our hero made it as little painful as possible ; passing over, for 
 obvious reasons, much about himself and family, and banishing the 
 name of " Corkery" beyond the pale of history, stating, however, that 
 his rank in life, as the son of a trader, presented a barrier to the pur- 
 suit of a lady of condition — hov*^ that lady was first encountered, the 
 street broil, his subsequent banishment and irrepressible love were 
 recounted as briefly as they might be, and the listener seemed infected 
 by the spirit of romance which appeared to have presided over the 
 whole affair, for when Ned concluded, Finch expressed not only admi- 
 ration of his spirit, but even went so far as to encourage his hopes. 
 
 " You do not mean to say I have a chance ?" exclaimed Ned, 
 whose flashing eye betrayed that his feelings were at variance witli 
 llie doubting nature of his question. 
 
 " And why not ?" returned Finch. " You are young, full of 
 courage, and fit for enterprise ; the world offers plenty to do for all 
 such. Look at the Low Countries at this moment, for instance ; 
 the theatre of daring achievements that lift bold men alcove the heads 
 of ordinary mortals. Glorious graves or living laurels may be had 
 there, and fortune, too, if you have luck on your side." 
 
 " I would dare a thousand deaths a day !" exclaimed Ned, "to win 
 her ;— even to deserve her ; — but where could I get a commission ? — 
 I have not friends, and to serve as a volunteer re(piires more money 
 than I can command." 
 
 " Money ! " returned Finch — " ah ! — you have said the very word 
 that has more magic in it, lad, than all else besides — if you had money 
 enovffh, you need care for nothing besides — the £. S. D, — the pounds 
 sliillings and pence reign triumphant over all else." 
 
 I 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 37 
 
 " True !" said Ned, with a sigh. 
 
 " Well," returned Finch, " money is to be made, and adventure 
 found in other places than in Flanders. The sea offers reward as well 
 as the land. The Indies, for example, afford scope to the enterprise 
 of the navigator." 
 
 " Would to Heaven I had but the opportunity of engaging in such 
 a venture ! " cried Ned, enthusiastically. 
 
 " Well," said Finch, " there is no knowing how I myself might 
 help you in that particular ; I have sailed P^ast and West myself." 
 Here he launched forth at some length on the subject, embellishing his 
 recital with some piquant bits of sea stories, which quite came up to 
 all Ned fancied of nautical adventure, and set him quite agog to 
 realize ""those dreams in which he had sometimes indulged, and which 
 he found, from his friend's narrative, were not beyond reality. Finch 
 spoke with contempt of paddling about, as he called it, in muddy 
 channel seas. He talked of " the blue waters ;" and certain lofty 
 phrases of " Indian skies," " waving palm-trees," and " soft savan- 
 nahs," quite fired Ned's brain. In truth, his new acquaintance was 
 a dashing fellow — there was a fine free tone about him above the 
 narrow prejudices of those to whom Ned had been accustomed ; there 
 was that in him which approached nearer to the romantic than he 
 had yet witnessed, and he began to hope the world was not such a 
 hum-drum place as, of late, he began to fear it was. Under his 
 present circumstances, he felt the society of his new friend the greatest 
 relief; he diverted his thoughts from the absorbing theme which 
 unmanned him, by his good spirits and the profusion of entertaining 
 anecdote with which his memory was stored, till Ned began to enter- 
 tain a regard, as well as admiration for him, and every spare moment 
 he could command was given up to his society. 
 
 All this time Captain M'Gufiin was loading * The Industry^ with 
 her cargo, and Ned Corkery with reproaches ; for his attention became 
 quite alienated from the interests of the brig, for which the recitals of 
 the dashing Finch had engendered a thorough contempt, and the 
 worthy M'Gufiin's displeasure might have assumed a harsher form, 
 but that Ned -was the son of a wealthy man. £. S. D. have their 
 collateral as well as direct influence. 
 
 The moment approached, however, which was to separate Ned from 
 the sober reproaches of the master. Meeting Finch by appointment, 
 one day, an unusual brightness illumined the countenance of his 
 friend, who, shaking him warmly by the hand, announced that he had 
 some good news for him. 
 
 " I have heard of your charmer," said he. 
 
 Ned listened breathlessly. 
 
 " The Count lias travelled soutli, and if I don't mistake much, is 
 
38 £ 'V. c/. 
 
 oil Lis way to Dunkirk, or, perhaps, Courtrai ; but 1 would venture a 
 bet he is at either of the phices, where it won't be hard to find him." 
 
 " Of what avail is that to me ?" said Ned, sorrowfully. " To hear 
 they, whom I wish to see, are hundreds of miles away, without^ the 
 power of following." 
 
 " Wait, lad ! don't jump to your conclusion so fast ; suppose I put 
 you in the way of following — of seeing your ' ladye love ' — mayhap of 
 winning her." 
 
 Ned could only gasp forth an amatory ' oh ! ' and clasp his hands. 
 
 " Listen, then. Imprimis, as lawyers begin people's wills. Imprimis, 
 
 you must leave that clumsy old brig, and the fusty M'Guffin. \VTio 
 
 could do any good with such a name as M'Guffin ?" cried Finch, 
 
 contemptuously. 
 
 Ned was delighted, he had thought of changing his. 
 " I will give you a berth on board the prettiest craft that ever 
 iioated, and take you with me to Dunkirk ; there you Avill be nearer 
 your game than here, and you may have some days' leisure to play it 
 too ; and when, under my advice, you make the most of an interview 
 with your charmer, return on board, and it will go hard with me if 
 1 don't show you the way to fortune." 
 
 At all times the promise held out to a young man of being put in 
 the way of making the first step in the course Ned's friend pointed 
 out is most tempting ; but under the peculiar circumstances such 
 promise was made, the temptation was irresistible. At that mo- 
 ment Ned would have followed Finch to the uttermost end of the 
 world, and with all the enthusiasm belonging to his country and his 
 time of life, he made a wild outpouring of thanks to his friend with a 
 hearty acceptance of his ofler. 
 
 " Then to-morrow evening," said Finch, Hinging forth his hand to 
 our hero, in a fashion which says, * Trust me.' 
 
 "An' 'twere this moment!" returned Ned, grasping the offered 
 gage of friendship, and in the warm pressure which his heart prompted, 
 expressing more than he could have spoken. 
 " Enough !" cried Finch, and they parted. 
 
 What a tumult of thought and feeling passed through Ned's head 
 and heart, after the separation ! that which in the enthusiasm of an 
 excited moment, seemed easy as the volition of flight to a bird, had 
 its difficulties and objections presented when about to be brought into 
 action, lie was going he knew not M'here — nor for how long : — of 
 time nor place could he tell his father, and though implicit obe- 
 dience was not a virtue Ned exercised pre-eminently, yet the natural 
 affections, which were strong in him, forbade he should take the step on 
 which he had determined without writing to the old man. A letter was 
 accordingly composed for the exigency of the moment, saying that. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 39 
 
 desirous of seeing the world and making his fortune, he was bound to 
 foreign parts, hoped to be forgiven, and all that sort of thing which irre- 
 gular and erratic young gentlemen who have the use of their limbs, 
 indite to men of slow habits who go upon crutches. This letter was 
 entrusted to the care of the deserted M'Guffin, enclosed in one to 
 himself ; and Ned, seizing the occasion of the sober master's absence 
 from the * Industry,' transferred his chest from that simple brig to 
 the knowing little craft, * Seagull,' which, immediately after 
 weighed anchor, and a flowing sheet soon put leagues of water 
 between Ned and his industry.'' 
 
 The breeze, at first so favourable, soon chopped about ; but the 
 adverse wind only served to make Ned more in love with the boat. 
 Unlike the brig, that lifted her heavy head out of the sea, and flopped 
 it in again, as if she were half asleep, the lively Seagull clove the 
 waves, dashing the spray right and left aside of her graceful bows, 
 answering her helm with the delicacy of a hair trigger, coming into 
 the wind as fast as if the point whence it blew were a magnet, and she 
 had a needle in her bow-sprit, and away again on the opposite tack, as 
 though she w^ere gifted with an animal instinct, and doubled, like a 
 hare before greyhounds. 
 
 " Come down," said Finch, " we need not stay here ; we'll make 
 ourselves comfortable below, and then turn in." The evening was 
 spent agreeably, accordingly ; Ned liked the skipper more and more, 
 and wondered how his father could have had the barbarity to send 
 him to sea in such a heavy tub as the ' Industry,' while such craft 
 as the ' Seagull' swam. He turned in, and dreamt of " blue waters, 
 waving palms, and soft savannahs." In the morning he partook of 
 the nicest breakfast he ever saw on board a ship, the next day's sail 
 \vas all that could be wished, and the next and the next day were more 
 pleasantly passed by Ned than any other days of his life ; they made 
 Dunkirk, and fresh enjoyments were before Ned ; he was happiest of 
 the happy. He remembered the couplet of the song, which says — 
 " — he talked of such things, 
 As if sailors were kings ;" 
 
 and Ned thought there was no if about it, but that no king could be 
 hap[)ier than he ever since his foot had been on board the ' Seagull.', 
 The port of Dunkirk, at that time, was a stirring scene of action ; 
 the fortilicatioufj, which by the treaty of Utrecht had been destroyed, 
 and the extensive basins, capable of receiving forty sail of the line, 
 which had been filled up, were now being rebuilt and cleared out ; 
 and already the docks were capable of affording accommodation to a 
 considerable armament, preparing for a descent upon England, under 
 the command of the renowned Marshal Saxe, and for the purpose of 
 re-establishing the house of Stuart on the British throne. 
 
40 
 
 The bustle of workmen, the shouts of sailors, the drum, the trumpet, 
 and the cannon, all contributed to the martial din and tumult of the 
 place, which perfectly astounded Ned, who, notwithstanding, was less 
 influenced by the thought of the mighty game which was preparing 
 to be played than by the hope he entertained of seeing his beloved one. 
 Inquiry lay within so small a compass in Dunkirk, that Finch was 
 soon enabled to ascertain what persons of note were in the place, and 
 Count Nellenski was not amongst them. The Marshal had gone to 
 Courtrai ; and there Ned was recommended to repair, in search of his 
 darling object. Finch stoutly avowing his belief the game would be 
 found in that quarter, he gave Ned several hints as to his mode of 
 proceeding, placing in strong array his own knowledge of the world 
 in general, some little insight into the circumstances of the particular 
 case, and, beyond all, his conviction that a coup cle main, where a lady 
 is in the case, does wonders. " Be bold," he said ; " tell her at once 
 you love her, the first moment you have an opportunity, and that you 
 entertain hopes of being soon in a position to claim her hand ; draw a 
 little on futurity ; and if the woman likes you, she will put it in bank in 
 her heart, and then you'll have something to draw on. Remember my 
 axiom — 'tis that good old one I have often repeated to you — ' Faint 
 heart never won fair kdy.' " 
 
 Along with such advice he furnished his friend with a passport and 
 copious directions, and Ned set out on what he could not help con- 
 fessing to himself was a wild-goose chase, spurred by the strongest 
 stimulus that can inspire the heart — love ; and upborne by the most 
 enduring power that can sustain human exertion — hope ; both the 
 bright companions of life, but brightest in youth. 
 
 The time which fortune had thrown in our hero's way was not the 
 most favourable for travelling ; the frequency of military posts, the 
 scrupulous examination of passports, the suspicion with which the 
 most trivial circumstances in connexion with a traveller was regiu-ded, 
 rendered the wayfarer liable to many discomforts, and not unfre- 
 quently to danger ; for sometimes straggling parties of soldiers roved 
 up and down, who, taking advantage of the exigencies of the times, 
 made the public cause but an excuse for private rapine, by vexatious 
 and rude interruptions, which enabled them to raise pecuniary contri- 
 butions from defenceless parties whose ill luck threw them into such 
 unwelcome company, and Avhose only chance of permission to proceed 
 on their journey was giving a bribe ; the loss of their money being, 
 in most cases, preferred to the loss of their liberty, more particularly 
 in the hands of such unceremonious captors. 
 
 It was Ned's evil fortune to fall in with one of these marauding 
 parties, in company with some fellow-travellers with whom he had left 
 Dunkirk. When stopped and questioned, and, at last, detained by the 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 41 
 
 soldiery, one of the party, a sturdy burgher, protested loudly against 
 the proceeding ; swearing lustily that it was not care for the public 
 cause, but the mere desire to 'mulct the passengers, by which it was 
 prompted ; and though he paid for leave to pass, he grumbled 
 ominously, and some muttered words of making it a matter of debate 
 in his town-council, and having it strongly represented at head-quar- 
 ters, caught the ears of tlie soldiers ; while he further averred, that 
 though scarcely a day passed without hundreds of such stoppages, he 
 never heard of a single instance of their daring to take a prisoner 
 before the authorities ; clearly proving that it was a piece of knavery, 
 and nothing else. 
 
 This was so generally known, that the depredators lost no occasion 
 of pulling up any really suspicious person, to give a colour to their 
 proceedings ; and as it happened that Ned, speaking nothing but Eng- 
 lish, and his passport not being what they chose to consider satisfac- 
 tory, was just the man for their purpose, they rebutted the accusation 
 of the burgher by making a prisoner of Ned, whom they feigned to 
 believe a spy ; and he was therefore parted from his companions and 
 despatched to Courtrai, under a guard. This was but an inauspicious 
 commencement of his voyage of discovery ; and the miles which he 
 had yet to traverse towards the toAvn were passed by our hero in 
 melancholy forebodings, which grew darker as he entered the strongly- 
 guarded gate of the fortress, and saw the fierce looks which were cast 
 upon him as he was pointed out for an P^nglish spy. He was forwarded 
 directly by the officer in command of the gate, under a special escort, 
 to the provost-marshal ; and after a brief charge made by his captors, 
 who made matters appear as bad as they could against him, the more 
 to glorify their own vigilance, and one word of which Ned could not 
 contradict, as he did not know what they were saying, he was thrust 
 into a dingy cell, lighted by one small window with a strong iron 
 grating ; and as the guardian of the den was about to close the door, 
 he cast back a significant look, and, putting his thumb under his ear, 
 with an ominous twist of his mouth and a smart click of the tongue 
 at the same moment, he slammed the door on his prisoner, whom we 
 must leave, for the present, to his hempen meditations. 
 
12 X 6-. r/. 
 
 CHAPTKR V. 
 
 French Flanders, whose greater portion was won by the valour of 
 the British arms, had been reconquered in subsequent campaigns. 
 
 The genius of Maurice, Count de Saxe, had retrieved the fallen 
 Ibrtunes of the French, and the victories of the illustrious Marl- 
 borough were remembered with impatience, as the more recent suc- 
 cesses of this later master of the art of war swept away the result of 
 the British hero's conquests. With an inferior force, he now held in 
 check the army of the allies ; and though unable to maintain a pitched 
 battle, the judicious distribution of his battalions prevented his adver- 
 saries from concentrating, and forcing him to a general engagement. 
 Until his presence might be required, he had retired from Dunkirk to 
 Courtrai, where he was better able to enjoy the pleasures he loved. 
 Of these, the theatre was one; and though a dramatic company 
 attended his camp, which he might command at all times, he preferred 
 Courtrai to a mere seaport town, as in the former a more distinguished 
 audience might do honour to the exalted efforts of the artists whom it 
 Avas his pleasure to patronize. Amongst these the exquisite Adrienne 
 le Couvreur stood pre-eminent. It was she who first inspired the 
 Count with the passion for the drama, which, in her hands, could 
 enchain the imagination and engage the passions. Her embodiment of 
 the poet's conceptions, showed a power in the histrionic art which he 
 did not conceive it possessed ; and the fascination became the more 
 potent from being unexpected, and was enduring as it was sudden. 
 The admiration her talents excited made him desire to have the 
 acquaintance of one who so often charmed him in public, and in the 
 society of this gifted actress he found new charnis ; her conversation 
 was an enjoyment he constantly courted, and she obtained sufficient 
 influence over the soldier to urge him to the study of elegant litera- 
 ture ; his mind, hitherto absorbed by authors who could only extend his 
 knowledge in the art of war, was thrown open to the contemplation of 
 tliose who move our hearts to the better purposes of peace, and em- 
 bellish social life with the adornments of poetry and the fine arts ; and 
 thus endowed, through her influence, with a new and more exalting 
 power of enjoyment, he more and more esteemed his beautiful bene- 
 factress. Profuse in his expenditure, his patronage of Adrienne was 
 munificent ; and on one occasion she had the opportunity of proving 
 tliat his liberality was not un^vorthily bestowed. When, under adverse 
 
TllEASUllE TROVE. 1;5 
 
 circumstances, he was combatting for the duchy of Courland, Adrienne, 
 then in Paris, pawned her jewels and plate, and sent a considerable 
 sum to replenish the military chest of her patron. 
 
 Here was a fresh cause of admiration on the part of the Count, 
 whose sense of such noble conduct raised her still higher in his opinion, 
 and the fair Adrienne became such a favourite, that she was admitted 
 to the freedom of friendship with the noble Marshal, and might 
 venture to say or do what few would have dared to one in his exalted 
 position. 
 
 Whenever the exigencies of war, on his part, or of the Theatre 
 Frangais on hers, permitted, her presence was always requested by 
 the Count, to add the lustre of her dramatic art to the many other 
 courtly pleasures with which he always sought to adorn his camp, 
 thereby rendering an exile from the capital more bearable to the young 
 nobles who followed his standard. One of these occasions had now 
 arrived ; hostilities, on a large scale, were laid by, and the Marshal 
 awaited with impatience in Courtrai the arrival of the renowned Le 
 Couvreur ; for the pleasure of the theatre was held in dearer anticipa- 
 tion at that moment from his being debarred from active exercise, in 
 consequence of a wound received in early life and neglected, and, 
 often causing pain and inconvenience, now exhibiting some of its 
 unpleasant symptoms. The Count, for the greater ease of his wounded 
 limb, was in dishabille : habited in a roquelaire, and wearing on his 
 head a silken cap, in which a small aigrette of heron's feathers was 
 (juaintly fastened with a jewel. He was surrounded by maps and books, 
 plans of fortifications, and other evidences of an active commander, 
 and poring over a projected movement, which he measured with hand 
 and mind, balancing all in the scale of contingency, when the arrivid 
 of Mademoiselle Le Couvreur was announced. The compasses M^ere 
 Hung aside, all thoughts of the campaign were abandoned, and the joy 
 at the sight of his lovely and welcome visitor put " grim-visaged war 
 to flight." How the hours glided by — what amusing anecdotes the 
 actress brought from Paris ! The tittle-tattle of that brilliant place 
 was served up to the Marshal with the piquant sauce of the fair 
 Adrienne's manner ; even court plots and state intrigues were at her 
 fingers' end, and the king himself did not escape. 
 
 " There is one thing however he did that I love him for/' said she ; 
 '' he created you a marshal ; I need not tell you how / rejoiced at 
 tliat well-deserved proof of his majesty's favour. I have not till no;v 
 had the opportunity of making my congratulations ; pray. Marshal, 
 accept them ! " 
 
 She then asked, in that womanly spirit which enjoys the outward 
 signs of triumph, to sec the hatoii which the king had presented. 
 Suxe smiled at the fond folly, and said, " Is it not enough to knoAv 
 
44 J: S. (L 
 
 that I am a Marshal, without lookin;^ at tlie bauble which represents 
 the rank ? it is not half so fine as many of the insignia you wear upon 
 the stage." 
 
 " But more real," answered Adrienne ; " and that makes all the 
 difference ." 
 
 " Some of the dignities of real life are quite as unsubstantial as your 
 pasteboard crowns," returned the Marshal. " What, for instance, is 
 my coronet of Courland worth ? It is dear to me, for one reason, 
 certainly; the struggle to win it proved there was yet a noble and 
 disinterested friendship) left in the world." 
 
 He fixed his bright eye significantly on Adrienne as he spoke ; she 
 only answered by a smile and with an inclination of the head. 
 
 " But I repeat," continued the Count, "what are many of the dig- 
 nities, the triumphs, and the honours of this world, more than a 
 theatric pageant, only not so amusing, and a little longer sometimes; 
 wdiile the w^orld applaud or hiss by turns, and on which the curtain 
 lalls at last when Death ' rings down?' " 
 
 "Go on! goon!" said the actress; "rally as much as you please; 
 but I hold my opinion : — the triumph, or grief, or joy of this world, 
 must be more touching than that of the theatre, because it is rect/." 
 
 " Ma belle I " answered tlie Marshal, with ready courtesy, " all is 
 real when you are on the stage." 
 
 " Ah!" returned the lovely woman, "if you reply by compliments, 
 I must give np the argument ; but though I can say no more, 
 I will see the baton." 
 
 The Marshal's principal attendant was summoned, and at the 
 lady's desire the staff of office was produced. It was beautil'ully 
 wrought, studded, or to use the ancient heraldic phrase, seivc with 
 fleurs-de-lis in gold and enamel. The fair Adrienne snatched the 
 glittering emblem of military domination from the hand of the 
 attendant, and when he had left the room she kissed it passionately, 
 and exclaimed, " May victory hover wheresoever 'tis raised! but the 
 wish is needless — it mnst^ in the hands of Le Alarechal de Saxe" 
 
 " You can beat me at compliments," said the Marshal, " though you 
 disclaim them." 
 
 Adrienne rose, and assuming a militarj^ stand, waved the baton in 
 the air, and with the happiest mimicry imitating the, Count's manner, 
 gave a series of the most absurd commands. The Count laughed, 
 half at the close imitation of himself, half at the nonsense she was 
 talking; while the admiration of her beautiful arm, as it waved to and 
 fro in all the accustomed grace of the highest study, cast an Attic 
 enjoyment over the scene, and almost made farce sublime. 
 
 " Sit down!" cried the Count, when his laughter permitted him to 
 speak; " sit down, lady fair — what nonsense you do talk. If Hercules 
 
TREASUHE TROVE. 45 
 
 was absurd holding the distaff, Venus makes as poor work with the 
 truncheon." 
 
 The lively tete-a-tete was soon interrupted by the announcement 
 that Mons. de Devenish, the commandant, waited the Marshal's 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Mafoi!^^ exclaimed the Count, surprised, and consulting his watch, 
 " que le temps fait! it is indeed the hour I appointed;' and turning 
 to the servant, he desired him to make his compliments to the com- 
 mandant, and say he should be charmed to see him: the servant retired. 
 
 " Now," said the Count to the lady, " you will hear some very 
 droll French spoken." 
 
 " I am used to that," said Adrienne, with a smile, alluding to the 
 Marshal's own foreign accent. 
 
 "Ah I but I am an angel compared to Mons. de Devenish; he is an 
 Irishman — one of the many thousands who, brave as Coesar, and loving 
 fighting in their hearts, are not allowed to draw a sword for the king 
 of Great Britain, under whose crown they live; and therefore they 
 help to win victories for other countries. I liave known De Devenish 
 many years; he was an officer in the first regiment I ever raised, and 
 lias been in many a liot place with me; he has elevated himself by 
 his own merit to be commandant of this fortress, and a more deserving 
 officer never held command." 
 
 The entrance of the commandant cut short any further praise or 
 comment the Count might have felt inclined to make, and after 
 returning tlie Marshal's salutation, he begged to present to him an 
 officer who had entered the chamber with him. His aspect was stern, 
 and liis arm in a sling spoke of recent encounter; and when the com- 
 mandant introduced him under the name of Captain Lynch, the Marshal 
 seemed to receive him with peculiar courtesy. 
 
 "Charmed to see you. Captain," said the Marshal; "you have 
 s'trengthened the brigade* wonderfully; — what dasliing fellows you 
 liave brought from Ireland — are they all such handsome strong straight 
 dare-devils?" 
 
 " I believe. Marshal, we are pretty fairly provided with natural 
 gifts." 
 
 " You have got hurt — how's that?" 
 
 " A sharp affair. Marshal," answered Devenish, taking up the con- 
 versation; " and in a quarter I would not have expected, which made 
 me take the liberty of bringing the Captain with me, to give all the 
 information you might desire." 
 
 Tlie Marshal withdrew to a table at the further end of the room, 
 
 * The Irish Brigade— one of the most distinguished in the French army of the 
 period. 
 
4() JC .s*. d, 
 
 and after asking Captain Lynch some few brief question?, he turned 
 to Devenish, and with an outspread map before him, began to gauge 
 distances with a pair of compasses. After a pause of a few 
 minutes, he exclaimed to the commandant, " I tell you 'tis impossi- 
 ble; the Duke de Grammont is here — Mons. de Luttaux there. 
 The Duke de Biron could not be forced — St. Sauveur commands an 
 impenetrable point — the Count de Longaunai would not permit an 
 enemy to steal a march — 'tis impossible any thing of moment can 
 liave taken place." 
 
 Devenish ventured certain suggestions, which the Marshal listened 
 to with an attention Avhich showed in what respect he held the com- 
 mandant's judgment, but still he maintained the opinion that any 
 serious movement of the enemy was impossible. 
 
 While this conference of so much moment was going forward, 
 Lynch's attention w^as arrested by the occupation of Adrienne, who, 
 still holding the Marshal's truncheon, used it for a plaything to pro- 
 voke her dog into activity. Yes: while the interest of kingdoms w^as 
 in debate, the staff of honour, presented by a proud potentate to an 
 illustrious soldier, was made the toy of the moment in the hand of a 
 w^oman ! 
 
 Lynch's mind was not of the mould to derive enjoyment from the 
 piquant frivolity of such a scene: the staff of honour made a play- 
 thing for the amusement of a lap-dog, to his earnest nature only con- 
 veyed a sense of displeasure, and an expression of pity and sadness 
 passed across his countenance while he watched the gambols of the 
 lady's pet, pursuing in bounding circles the baton which the lovely 
 W'Oman w^aved above his head. Even the beauty of person and grace 
 of action before him, to which, under ordinary circumstances, he \wtis 
 not insensible, became neutralized by the wound his sense of pro- 
 priety received. The impressions of the man were less vivid than 
 the feelings of the soldier; and the truncheon, which in his mind was 
 associated with thoughts of honour and victory, and whose indication 
 he would have followed with alacrity though the path led to death, — 
 that type of command to be degraded, as he considered it, cast a 
 deeper shade over his stern and massive features the longer he looked. 
 ITis attention was withdrawn from the displeasing incident by a word 
 addressed to him by the Marshal, who having finished the discussion 
 of the important topics on which he was engaged with the Com- 
 mandant, turned the conversation upon the passing trivialities of the 
 time. 
 
 " I hope you and Mademoiselle, your fair daughter, enjoyed the 
 ball the other night, Captain; — by-the-by, what a charming person 
 she is. She was called by common consent in the salo?i, La heJh 
 Irlandaise.'^ 
 
Q\^tr^^ 
 
 y/z-e '^yaa/yTrZ'' ^/^ ,yna.^^^^A-'f:z./< 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 47 
 
 Lyndi bowed, and thanked the Marshal for Jiis flattering speecli 
 with a formal courtesy. 
 
 " I hope she enjoyed our comedy too." 
 
 " Extremely, sir." 
 
 " No doubt she can appreciate the wit of Moliere, for I know she 
 speaks French charmingly. — Has she ever lived in Paris?" 
 
 " No, Count; she has passed most of her life in Ireland." 
 
 " Then how has she acquired so pure an accent?" 
 
 " An old priest was her instructor." 
 
 " Ah, truly, I forgot that; all your pr'ests get their education in 
 France. We send you priests, and you supply us with soldiers. Wc 
 have the best of the bargain," said the Marshal, laughing. " So a 
 priest has taught her French ? " 
 
 "Yes, Count, and something better, I hope," replied the father, 
 seriously. 
 
 " Oh, doubtless," returned the Count, with a corresponding suavity of 
 voice: ^^hut still she enjoyed our comedy^'' added he, witli a mis- 
 cliievous twinkle of his dark eye, and one of his merriest smiles. 
 
 " Certainly," replied Lynch; "we say in Ireland, sir, that we may 
 be * merry and wise,' and I think it quite possible." 
 
 "I'll go farther than that," said the Marshal; "I think it very 
 unwise not to be merry when one can. But now I can offer to 
 Mademoiselle a higher entertainment. Our camp is honoured with 
 tlie presence of the first artiste in the world," and he looked to 
 Adrienne as he spoke: " and I doubt not. Mademoiselle has tears to 
 bestow on tragedy, as well as smiles to reward comedy. I hope for 
 the honour of seeing you and your fair daughter. Captain, amongst 
 our auditory." 
 
 " Thanks, Marshal; — but my daughter has left Courtrai." 
 
 " For shame. Captain! Beauties are not so plenty here, that we 
 can spare so fair a face. I hope Mademoiselle returns soon: besides, 
 remember what an intellectual banquet is before her in seeing 
 Mademoiselle Le Couvreur." He w^aved his hand towards Adrienne, 
 and bowed courteously. She returned the salutation with a smile, 
 and retired. 
 
 " I hope your daughter is within recall," continued the Count. 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 Captain Lynch hesitated for a moment, and muttered something 
 about the Marshal's too flattering courtesy. 
 
 " I insist on knowing," said the Count, with his most winning air. 
 " I positively command her presence here, to grace our revels;— where 
 is she? Answer, Captain, or dread a generalissimo's displeasure: if 
 your fair daughter is thus spirited away, I swear you shall not have a 
 forlorn hope to lead, or a post of danger to defend, for the rest of the 
 campaign." 
 
48 £ s, cL 
 
 Lynch smiled at the nature of the Marshal's threatened punish- 
 ment, and in reply to the reiterated questions of where his daughter 
 had gone, he replied, " To Bruges;" but in despite of the entreaties 
 made for her return, the Captain respectfully declined the honour of 
 the Marshal's pressing invitation, and soon withdrew in company of 
 the Commandant. 
 
 They had scarcely retired, when the Count ordered the immediate 
 attendance of his favourite emissary, Lerroux. 
 
 A swarthy man, of powerful frame, overhanging brow, and quick 
 dark eye, soon made his appearance. The moment he entered, the 
 Count addressed him with something of reproach in his manner. 
 
 " How is it that you never told me Mademoiselle de Lynch had left 
 Courtrai?" 
 
 " I did not know it, Monseigneury 
 
 " Then she has fairly given you the slip?" 
 
 " But I will learn where she is gone, if Monseioneiir desires." 
 
 "I know it without your help; — so you see I have done without 
 you this timQ—'prenez garden 
 
 ^'Pardon, 3Ionseigneur. — And what is Momelg?ieiu-''s pleasure?" 
 
 " We must have the lady back to Courtrai; vre have no beauties to 
 spare here — eh, Lerroux?" 
 
 " Monseigneur is right." 
 
 " She is too charming a person to stay at Bruges while I am here." 
 
 "At Bruges; — thanks, 3Io/iseignmr.-^But what address?" 
 
 "Plague take thee, rascal; am I to find out every thing that belongs 
 to thy business?" 
 
 " Pardon, Monseigneur! am I to go to Bruges then?" 
 
 "Yes: you know how to find out where anybody is anywhere, 
 and can discover the address of Mademoiselle. She is too hand- 
 some to be spared from Courtrai, and we must make some excuse 
 to get her back. Her father is wounded; that is a good plea to 
 draw her from her retreat." 
 
 "Admirable, Monseigneur V^ 
 
 " You can make it serve, I think. 
 
 " Without doubt, Monseigneur'^ 
 
 " Contrive it your own way ; — but of course I know nothing 
 about it." He threw him a purse of gold as he spoke, and smiled. 
 
 Lerroux answered with a vile leer and low chuckle. 
 
 " Lose no time." 
 
 " Not a moment, 3Ionseigneur.'" 
 
 " And you shall 7iot lose money — for there is another purse if you 
 bring back the lady." 
 
 " Monseignewr is too good!" said the wretch, with a cringe, as he 
 retired from the room, and left the Marshal to his alternate reveries 
 of love and war. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 40 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The Commandant insisted on the presence of Captain Lynch at liis 
 quarters on tlieir retiring from the Marshal's presence. The latter 
 pleaded his wound as " reason fit" why it were wiser to betake him 
 to the retirement of his own lodging and the repose of his own 
 bed; but the Commandant pleaded ancient friendship, with that oft- 
 used clause, "the length of time since they had met;" and Lynch 
 being an Irishman, the social disposition of his nature backed his 
 friend's request, and yielded to the Commandant's wishes, on the 
 promise of the latter that Lynch should " do as he liked;" which 
 meant, that the Commandant would not enforce his guest to drink till 
 he was tipsy. In the course of their walk, Mons. de Devenish, for so 
 we must call our French-Irish commandant, alluded to the beauty of 
 tlie Captain's daughter, and the universal admiration she created. 
 
 " Even the Marshal," said he, " though used to the blaze of charms 
 in the French court, has been attracted." 
 
 " I wish he were not," returned the father. 
 
 " And why not?" 
 
 " Because I desire not such distinctions for my child. The 
 admiration of wolves for lambs is something like that of your Count- 
 Marshal for a captain's daughter; it is disproportionate, and any 
 *^- superstructure on so false a base, must fall; and in falling, whom would 
 it crush? — the woman. The brilliancy of a warrior's reputation, and a 
 courtier's manner, are an over-match for the natural weakness even of 
 the most sensible girl; and I would not willingly expose my child to 
 the trial: — not that I fear or doubt her good sense and her innate love 
 of all that is honourable, not only in reality, but in seeming; never- 
 theless, I should shrink at the idle whispers of a clique commenting 
 upon the courtesies of a man of the Count's gay reputation to my 
 daughter." 
 
 " My dear friend," answered Devenish, " you think like a man who 
 has lived in the hermit retirement of our native land, and is unused 
 to the world." 
 
 " And you, my good Commandant," returned Lynch, " think — or 
 perhaps I had better say, don't think of such matters, with the care- 
 lessness that long habit lias engendered while living with these 
 demoralized foreigners." 
 
 E 
 
00 £ s, (L 
 
 "It is possible," said Devenisli; "but I hope I am not con- 
 taminated." 
 
 " Certainly not," replied the Captain; " but your feelings on such 
 matters are blunted: and so strongly do I feel on this subject, that 
 
 1 am going to ask of you the favour of supplying me with some trusty 
 messenger, to convey to my daughter a letter to warn her against any 
 surprise that may be attempted to draw her to Courtrai." 
 
 " Surprise I" exclaimed Devenish, in wonder. 
 
 "Aye, surprise," repeated Lynch; "there was something in the 
 manner of the Count I did not like — it jarred upon me; and I would 
 ask the favour at your hands I have named." 
 
 " You shall have it, my dear friend." 
 
 "My wound, and the duties I have to perform here," said the 
 Captain, " are obstacles to my own departure hence at this moment, 
 or I would instantly go to Bruges and see my girl; but a letter in 
 safe hands must serve my turn for the present. You say you can fur- 
 nish a trusty messenger?" 
 
 " Depend on me," replied Devenish. 
 
 " Thanks!" said Lynch; " it is enough." 
 
 Their brief and confidential colloquy brought them to the quarters 
 of the Commandant, where a few officers had been invited to share the 
 hospitality of his table, and were already awaiting their host. He 
 pleaded the commands of the] Marshal for this breach of etiquette on 
 his part, and ordered dinner to be served directly. 
 
 Most of the men were L-ish, for Devenish loved to have his country- 
 men about him, and the after-dinner hilarity was mingled with various 
 anticipations of the proposed descent on Great Britain, in the cause 
 of Prince Charles, and its probable result on L-eland. Lynch 
 promised the most devoted adherence to the cause, on tlie part of all 
 L-eland, — stating his personal knowledge of the feelings of tlio 
 country, in the cause of their legitimate king. 
 
 "More fools they !" said Devenish — " pass the bottle, boys." i 
 
 " Call you devotion to a sacred duty folly ?" said Lynch, in whom 
 a romantic and enthusiastic nature produced a dc^opcr love for a 
 sinking cause. 
 
 " I call it folly," returned Devenish, " to adhere to a family through 
 whom poor L'cland lost all, and got nothing. They adhered to the 
 royal cause in Charles the First's time, and little thanks they got — 
 only were murthered entirely by Cromwell for it after, and had not 
 even pity from Charles the Second. Still, for all that, nothing would 
 serve them but to stick to dirty '^ James, with desperate fidelity; and 
 much good that did them, — only got them murthered over again by 
 
 * King James ^is still remembered in the devoted land he abandoned by this 
 compHmentary sobriquet, 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 51 
 
 black Billy, and made the world just one big barrack for Irishmen to 
 go live abroad in, for they dare not stay at home." 
 
 " And arc we not as badly off under George?" asked Lynch, 
 gloomily — " and is it not worth a struggle to make Ireland a land 
 where her sons may live and die in honour, and not be forced to live 
 in exile, if they would not live as slaves ?" 
 
 "Ah, Lynch, leave your indignant eloquence, like a good boy, and 
 pass the wine, — there is poor O'Donnell eyeing the bottle with a 
 longing look, that is quite heart-breaking." 
 
 "I am of your opinion. Commandant, respecting the expedition," 
 said O'Donnell, filling his glass. The wit spoke truth, who told Louis 
 that he would never see mass performed in London, unless he had 
 three hundred thousand soldiers to serve it." 
 
 " We have yet to see what the expedition will do," said Lynch. 
 
 " And they are making all haste in their preparations," added 
 Blake. 
 
 " Yet I have no expectation from it," said the Commandant. 
 
 " Though Saxe commands it ?" replied Lynch. 
 
 "Aye, even Saxe. — And, by-the-by, I am not sure if he won't be 
 lield by the leg here — that wound of his is troublesome sometimes — I 
 know it of old — for I was with him when he got it." 
 
 "By the way, that was a desperate affair, I believe ?" inquired 
 O'Donnell. 
 
 " Faith, you may say that." 
 
 " An extraordinary escape, was it not T inquired another. 
 
 " Incredible, almost," replied Devenish, who was requested, by all 
 present, to give the particulars of the encounter, as none of them had 
 ever heard the details. 
 
 "It is upwards of twenty years ago," said Devenish, " and as one 
 might forget a little or so in that time, I dare say you will imagine 
 the half of what I shall tell you invention ; but I give you my 
 honour, the most fertile fancy could not invent half the wonders of 
 that^ night's work. — You see it was when I first joined the Count's 
 regiment, — the first which his father allowed him to raise, and with 
 which he certainly performed wonders in a former campaign, — it was 
 then that the regiment was ordered to Pomerania, to join the 
 Prussians, and the Count sent off the lads before him, that they might 
 be in for the first of the fun, he himself intending to follow in a few 
 days ; but as he could move faster than a whole regiment, they were 
 sent ahead, he reserving only six of his officers, and about twelve 
 servants, well armed, for his escort, though we had to cross part of an 
 enemy's country." 
 
 " Did he dare such a thing with only eighteen men r" 
 
 " Dare ?" said Devenish ; " of all the dare-devils I ever saw, — and 
 
 E 2 
 
^ ' £ s. (1. 
 
 I have seen a few in my time, — the Count 
 
 young. He knows better, now ; for, indeed, the bit of advice Princa 
 
 Eugene gave him one day, was needed." 
 
 " AYhat was that ?" inquired Blake. 
 
 " When the general officers were praising the young Count one day, 
 at Bethune, for some of his daring vagaries. Prince Eugene waited till 
 they were all done, and then he took him down a peg, with these re- 
 markable words : — ' You mistake temerity for courage,' said he ; * but 
 do not confound them. Count, for connoisseurs know the (Ufference' " 
 
 " But you are forgetting the story. Commandant." JJfl 
 
 '' Well, we were but nineteen people in all, well mounted, and armed "^ 
 to the teeth ; and we pushed our nags pretty smartly, till night brought 
 us, after a hard day's ride, to a small place called Crachnitz. Here 
 there was but a shabby little inn, which could not afford sufficient accom- 
 modation for our party. We were obliged to distribute our horses in 
 various stables up and down the village, reserving those of the inn for 
 the officers' chargers, and the servants to sleep in. We stationed a 
 couple of scouts to be on the look out, to avoid a surprise, and then 
 the^ Count ordered supper, with as much noncJialance as if he were 
 safe at home in his father's palace. Well, just as we were sitting down 
 to supper, in rushed our scouts, to tell us the enemy were pouring 
 into the town in great force. What need of force, you will say, to 
 take nineteen men ? but, as we afterwards heard, the enemy had sup- 
 posed us to be a much stronger detachment, having heard that g ^^ 
 Marshal Count Fleming travelled with the Count de Saxe ; and solH 
 something to the tune of two hundred dragoons entered the town, 
 while six hundred cavalry were posted outside, to prevent escape, and 
 make our capture sure ; for if they could have carried off the Count 
 and the Marshal, it would have been as good as taking threes 
 thousand men. 
 
 The Count immediately gave orders to barricade the door and lower 
 windows — to pierce the wainscot of the hall, and place a couple of 
 men in each of the side rooms, which commanded the }>assage, who 
 could thus, under cover, pour a fire upon the first who shouhl enter. 
 The Count and the rest of his suite withdrew to the stables, which we 
 could better defend, and where we saddled our horses, to be ready to 
 
 run when we could 
 
 no longer 
 
 fiffht. We heard the clatter of the 
 
 dragoons, as they galloped up the street, and drew up round tlu^ inn. 
 A violent knocking at the door succeeded ; and on the refusal to open, 
 the officer in command threatened to force it. The threat was soon 
 put into execution ; the door was battered down with iW butt-ends 
 of fire-arms. And while all this din v/as going I'orward outside, 
 within, the stillness of death reigned — where the Grim King was soon 
 to rei.irn h/nf.^elf. A light was so disposed, that the ludl was visiblf^ to 
 
tiii::asuiie trove. 53 
 
 us, vvliile those who should enter could see nothing. The four men in tli 
 two rooms, with guns ready pointed through the loops, awaited the 
 ibrcing of the door, to deal slaughter on the first who should enter. 
 Bang! bang! fell the blows on the portal, and the creaking planks told 
 how fast the w^ork went on. At last came one grand crash, and in 
 fell the door ; a rush of dragoons is impeded by a slight barricade of 
 furniture in the hall ; the moment they are checked, four deadly shots 
 are put in from the side rooms. We then, from the other end of the 
 passage which led to the stables, hurl a murderous fire upon the 
 assailants, whose own dead bodies become an additional rampart for 
 our defence. The dragoons, treading over their fallen companions, 
 are pressed forward from the rear, — they are met with the bayonet, 
 and slaughtered helplessly ; a panic seizes the assailants, and the hall 
 is abandoned — literally barricaded with dead. An escalade was 
 attempted at the same time, however ; and just as we had cleared the 
 hall, the tramp of the dragoons was heard in the apartments above, 
 where the windows were undefended. The Count was the first to rush 
 up stairs in the darkness. He had a pistol in one hand, and a sw^ord 
 in the other. The first man he met fell by the former ; and then he 
 laid about him so vigorously with his steel, that several were killed by 
 his own hand, before we could back him. A desperate struggle now 
 took place ; it was pitch dark ; -sve could not see where we struck, 
 and the greater part of the conflict consisted rather of wrestling, and 
 knocking our foes on the head, with the butt-ends of our pistols. 
 At last, we drove them towards the windows, and threw thevi out — 
 by St. Patrick 'tis a fact ! — we threw them out hy handfah! A 
 second attack w^as made, and a second time repulsed ; and the enemy, 
 finding the defence so complete, concluded a greater number were 
 in the house than was anticipated ; therefore, the oflacer relin- 
 quished further assault, till daylight would enable him to use his 
 numbers wdth advantage ; and as he considered himself sure of 
 his prey, he only placed strong parties round the inn, and ordered 
 the men to rest on their arms till morning, when he might sum- 
 mon the Count to surrender. When we found ourselves unmo' 
 lested, a little council of war w^as held, and the first thing that we 
 perceived, wdtli surprise, was, that not one of us, except the Count, 
 had received so much as a scratch; — he got a pistol wound in the thigh, 
 but he treated it as nothing, and we proceeded to debate wdiat w as best 
 to be done. ' We must make daylight through them wdiile it is night,' 
 said the Count ; ' for if the dawn should show the paucity of our 
 numbers, the game is lost.' Tlie difficulty -was, now, the want of 
 horses ; for you remember the stables of the inn could only accommo- 
 date those of the officers. It was therefore agreed to wait till the 
 enemy might be supposed to be drowsy, and surprise the postj which, 
 
51 £ s. (L 
 
 we perceived, had been established behind the inn. One great difficulty 
 now existed ; — though we had powder, we had expended every ball, 
 and a rummage was made through the house for anything we could 
 substitute ; any bit of brass or iron was a treasure. I crammed a 
 nail for some fellow'' s coffin into my pistol, and the Count was busy 
 in cutting the buttons off his coat, to ornament some other gentleman's 
 uniform, when a bright thought, as I imagined, struck me. ' Count,' 
 
 says I, * we say in Ii-eland that nothing can kill the d 1 but a 
 
 silver bullet. So suppose we club our dollars, and cut them up into 
 slugs ?' * A most characteristic invention,' replied he ; * / never 
 knew an Irishman mho could not get rid of his pay faster than any 
 other fellotv in the world.' Laughing at the Count's reply, we acted 
 on my advice, however, and chopped up our dollars into slugs, deter- 
 mined to pay the enemy ransom in a new fashion. When all was 
 prepared, we mounted our horses, opened the gates of the court-yard 
 quietly, and making the servants on foot steal cautiously forward, till 
 they should get sufficiently close to the enemy to enable them to reach 
 them as fast on foot as we should on horseback ; and having contrived 
 this combined attack of infantry and cavalry on so grand a scale, at 
 the proper moment the Count yelled out 'Charge!' and every man 
 shouting enough for a dozen, to make believe we were in force, rushed 
 forward for death or liberty. This sudden and furious assault upon 
 the guard, who thought themselves in such security, that they had 
 alighted from their horses, and were lying round a watch-fire, took 
 them completely by surprise ; and such as escaped our fire, and the 
 edge of the sword, fled precipitately, and our servants picking the 
 best of their horses, we set off at full gallop, and never drew rein till 
 we arrived at Sandomir, the next morning, which we accomplished 
 without the loss of a man, or a wound amongst the party, except that 
 of the Count. 
 
 '- Now," said the Comriiandant, when lie had finished the stoiy, 
 " remember you ashed me to tell you that ; for, 'pon my conscience, 
 I would not volunteer to tell so mar^•ellous a thing and hope to be 
 believed." 
 
 His brother-soldiers, while they acknowledged the affair to have 
 been a wonderful feat, still avowed their belief that, favoured by dark- 
 ness, a small determined party might keep fearful odds at bay ; and 
 many instances were remembered round the board. 
 
 " By-the-by, Commandant, was Burke with you in that affair?" 
 inquired O'Donnell. 
 
 " He was, jioor fellow T' said the Conmiandant, with an expression 
 of true regret on the last words. " He had not long come from 
 Ireland then, and was one of the four picked men Avho held the hall. 
 He was my servant for many years, and much as I valued him, I did 
 
TRDASUliE Tll()>E. oo 
 
 not know all his worth till I lost him. I havoi ne\ cr had such another. 
 You remember him, O'Donnell ? " 
 
 " I cannot forget the strange scrape he got into the night he mis- 
 took the pass-word." 
 
 The Commandant laughed at the recollection. 
 
 " Tell ns, Commandant," was the general request. 
 
 " O'Donnell knows it," said Devenish ; " but as there are some here 
 who do hot, 1 will tell you ; and it has the great merit of not being 
 long. It was one night when I wished to make a communication 
 with one of our outposts, commanded by a brother Pat, that Burke 
 was the only disposable person I had for the purpose. He had to 
 pass a line of sentries ; and as it was not long since he came from 
 Ireland, he did not knoAv a word of French, so the only thing I wished 
 to impress on his understanding was the necessity of remembering the 
 pass-word. As it happened, our glorious marshal here furnished the 
 same in his own ever memorable name — Saxe — ever memorable but 
 in the case of poor Burke, who forgot it, though he swore he never 
 would, nor could if he tried — ^ for your honour,' says he to me before 
 he went, ' how could I forget that word ? Sure, I can remember a 
 miller aisy enough, and a miller has sacks — isn't that right ? ' ' Quite, 
 Burke,' said I ; ' remember a miller and sacks, and you can't go 
 v\'rong — that one word will pass you to-night all through the camp.' 
 Now you must remember, Saxe did not command us, and that Burke 
 had never heard of such a person, and depended on his mnemonic 
 system for remembering the charmed word ; but whether it was 
 thoughts of home, or Hhe girl he left behind him,' that were busy 
 with my poor Burke, or that his high-trotting horse shook the word 
 out of his head, I won't pretend to say, but Avhen he was challenged, 
 tlie lively ' qui vive ? ' of the sentry was answered by Burke singing 
 out ' Bags ;' and as you may guess, Burke was laid hold of. 
 
 " ' Let me go, you thief !' cried Burke — * I^ags, I tell you I' J 
 
 " He was taken before the officer of the guard, who asked him v/here 
 he came from. Burke tipped him a knowing wink, and cried ^ JBagsf 
 but the officer seemed as stupid to Burke as the sentinel. 
 
 " ' What brings you here?' asked the officer. 
 
 " * BagsT said Burke, with more emphasis than before. 
 
 " The same answer to two different questions roused the French- 
 man's indignation ; but the warmer he got, the more did Burke repeat 
 ' Bags ! ' and cursed in his own mind the officer's stupidity ; and 
 though he rang the changes on * Bags ' in every possible intonation, it 
 was not till the next day that my inquiries after my servant set him 
 free. Many a laugh was had at Burke's expense on the subject of the 
 pass-word; and for a long time after, if I ever wanted him to be 
 particular not to forget any thing, I had only to say 'Bags' to put 
 Burke on his mettle." 
 
£ i'. d. 
 
 '' What a smart soldier he was too !" said O'Doimell. 
 
 " And as brave as a lion," added Devenish. " In short, he was a 
 noble fellow. Though in the ranks he had a heart that would have done 
 honour to a marshal. I knew his history, and it was touching. He 
 loved a girl passionately, who treated him, nevertheless, with coldness; 
 }'et I firmly believe that to the end of Ids life, she was the dearest 
 thing in his memory. Too daring a devotion to what the poor fellow 
 considered the cause of his country obliged him to fly from it, and 
 never was there a more home-sick exile at hear't ; but his pride, in 
 both cases, was so unflinching, that word or look would never betray 
 to strangers that he regretted the girl and the land that were lost to 
 him for ever. He fell, at last, on a hard-fought and victorious day, 
 and a lock of jet-black hair, and a withered shamrock, were found 
 enclosed in a small case of green silk, together with a gospel, suspended 
 by a ribbon from his neck, and resting over the pulseless heart, which 
 in life never throbbed with an unworthy emotion. 
 
 " The incident suggested to one of our lads, who was as ready with 
 his pen as his sword, a song, which has often been sung round our 
 camp fire, and which, if O'Donnell pleases, he can give us now." 
 
 The manly voice of the soldier was at once raised in accordance 
 with the wishes of his comrades, and though he could not boast the 
 perfections of an accomplished singer, what was wanting in art was 
 more than made up in feeling. 
 
 ^6e Sollriet. 
 
 'Twas glorious day, worth a warrior's telling, 
 Two kings had fought, and the fight was dou-: 
 
 When 'midst the shout of victory swelling, 
 A soldier fell on the field he won. 
 
 He thought of kings and of royal quarrels, 
 And thought of glory without a smile ; 
 
 For what had he to do with laurels? 
 He was only one of the rank and file. 
 
 But he pulled out his little cruiskcen,* 
 
 And drank to his pretty coltccn,f 
 " Oh darling !" says he, " when I die 
 You won't be a widow — for why ? — 
 
 Ah ! you never would have me vourncen." | 
 
 A raven tress from his bosom taking. 
 
 That now was stained with his life-stream shed ; 
 
 A fervent prayer o'er that ringlet making, 
 lie blessings sought on the loved one's head. 
 
 * A dram-bottle. f Girl. J A term of endearment. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 
 
 And visions fair of his native mountains 
 Arose, enchanting his fading sight ; 
 
 Their emerald valleys and crystal fountains 
 Were never shining more green and bright ; 
 
 And grasping his little cruiskeen, 
 
 He pledg'd the dear island of green ; — 
 " Though far from thy valleys I die, 
 Dearest isle, to my heart thou art nigh. 
 
 As though absent I never had been." 
 
 A tear now feli — for as life was sinking, 
 
 The pride that guarded his manly eye 
 Was weaker grown, and his last fond thinking 
 
 Brought heaven and home, and his true love nigh. 
 But, with the fire of his gallant nation, i 
 
 He scorn'd surrender without a blow ! — 
 He made with Death capitulation. 
 
 And with warlike honours he still would go ; 
 For, draining his little cruiskeen, 
 He drank to his cruel colleen. 
 
 To the emerald land of his birth — 
 
 And lifeless he sank to the earth. 
 Brave a soldier as ever was seen ! 
 
 The applause which followed O'Donnell's song was still ringing 
 round the table, when a servant entered, and addressed some words to 
 the Commandant. 
 
 Devenish, ever since his holding the important station he filled at 
 Courtrai, alwaj^s made it a rule to examine English prisoners himself 
 on their capture, to avoid the misunderstanding that might arise from 
 question and answer being confused by an imperfect knowledge of 
 language between parties, and now he was informed an officer was in 
 waiting, having an English prisoner in charge. The Commandant 
 desired he should be brought before him ; and in another instant, Ned 
 was standing in the presence of the dinner-party. 
 
 Though his air was somewhat sad, there was nothing of tha dov/ncast 
 craven about it, as he looked towards the Commandant at the head 
 of his table ; but when he heard himself addressed, not only in Eng- 
 lish, but with the accent of his native land, his face brightened as his 
 heart told him he was not so friendless as he thought himself. After 
 answering the Commandant's first question, he cast his eyes round the 
 table, and they met those of Captain Lynch. A mutual look of sur- 
 prise and pleasure passed between them; and as the Captain rose 
 and advanced towards him with open hand, saying, " Well met, my 
 young friend," Edward exclaimed, " What ! Count Nel " 
 
 The Captain suddenly stopped him by seizing his hand, and, with 
 
o8 
 
 £ s. d. 
 
 significant pressure, saying, " Captain Lynch is glad to see you — liow 
 came you to be a prisoner ?" 
 
 A few words of explanation sufficed to show that Edward was clear 
 of any charge that should limit his liberty, and the Commandant pro- 
 nounced him free, and rec^uested him to take a seat at the table, so 
 that, by one of those sudden turns of fortune which are so surprising, 
 he was transferred at once from a prison to the table of the Commandant, 
 and instead of "supping sori'ow," drinking most excellent wine, 
 the first glass of which he filled at the courteous soldier's request that 
 he would pledge him. 
 
 " I am happy to have the pleasure of seeing you, sir," said Devenish, 
 with that air of high breeding, warmed with heartiness, that so much 
 characterised the Irish gentleman of the period, " and I hope you will 
 make yourself comfortable. We owe you a little extra civility, in 
 consideration of the rough treatment you first had at our hands : but 
 if you have seen something of the chance rubs of travelling in a country 
 under military occupation, I trust, before you leave us, we will prove 
 to you that soldiers can be very good fellows as well as sturdy." 
 
 Ned, who never before had sat in as good company, feeling that 
 inevitable abashment which being made the subject of address in such 
 presence always produces in a young man of his station, made a 
 somewhat hasty and hesitating speech about the honour he con- 
 sidered he enjoyed, and the good fortune of an apparently unlucky 
 chance affording him the pleasure and honour of such a distinguished 
 society. So far, his native tact enabled him to say what was quite 
 right under the circumstances, though given with a difiSdence which 
 betrayed a shyness, showing a want of intimacy with the high-bred, 
 but by no means awaking a suspicion of vulgar habits. 
 
 " As for the pleasure, sir," said Devenish, (politely leaving \\\y, 
 honour unnoticed,) I believe I may, without flattery, opine that the 
 apartments of the Commandant are more agreeable than those of the 
 prevot 7narechal. 1 hope you will look over the little accident that 
 befel you : these French fellows, you know, — these fascinating 
 foreigners, — have a very taJting way with them, as they say of the 
 robbers in Ireland." 
 
 Ned assured him he felt more than repaid by the consequences that 
 ensued from his capture. 
 
 " I hope you have not been taken much out of your way, Mister — 
 by-the-by, your examination was conducted in so very Irish and after- 
 dinner a fashion, that we never inquired your name ; — may I beg the 
 f\ivour ?" 
 
 " Fitzgerald," answered Ned. 
 
 " A good name, sir, — I had some cousins of that name myself. 
 May I ask, are you connected with the Kilkee family ?" 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 51) 
 
 Ned, feeling much puzzled to be asked about Lis Fitzfjerald rela- 
 tions, answered in the negative. 
 
 " Or the Knight of Kerry ?" continued Devenish. 
 
 A negative was still returned ; and then politeness forbidding the 
 Commandant to inquire further, he returned to the question of 
 '' hoping that our hero had not been taken out of his way." , 
 
 So far from that, Ned declared Courtrai was a place he intended to 
 visit. 
 
 " Then no bones are broken after all," said Devenish, who having 
 performed the courtesy of conversing with a stranger introduced to 
 his table under such peculiar circumstances, joined in the general 
 conversation of his guests. 
 
 Ned was delighted to escape from the inquiries on the subject of 
 his genealogical tree, which was anything but a tree of knowledge 
 to him, as far as Fitzfjej^ald was concerned. 
 
 " What a strange meeting this of ours," said the Captain. " We 
 last met in a quiet town on the remotest shore of Europe, and here 
 we come together again on the theatre of its most stirring incidents." 
 
 " True, sir," ansAvered Ned. " And yet in that quiet town, you 
 may remember, we met in strife better befitting the seat of war." 
 
 " I don't forget it," answered his friend, significantly ; " and any- 
 thing I can do for you here, pray command me. — May I ask what 
 your object is in visiting Courtrai ?" 
 
 Here was poor Ned puzzled again with the very second question 
 put to him. He dare not tell to him who asked it the real object of 
 his visit ; and a second time within a few minutes he felt the painful 
 difficulty of not being able to speak the truth. He said at last, that 
 haying a few days to spare, the natural curiosity of persons to visit 
 ■'^trange places was his motive ; and then, trying to make a virtue of 
 speaking truth enigmatically, he added, that doubtless there was that 
 in Courtrai which he should he glad to see. 
 
 The Captain assured him there were places of much greater note 
 in Flanders, Courtrai being principally remarkable for its manu- 
 factures, not for the outward beauties which are attractive to the 
 traveller, and recommended his young friend to leave Courtrai as soon 
 as possible, as he should only lose his time there. 
 
 How dismally those words sounded to Ned. Despair stared him in 
 the face ; he scarcely noticed anything that took place afterwards till 
 the party broke up. Then, as the Commandant politely offered the 
 guidance of his own servant to conduct him to an hotel, Lynch 
 declared it was needless, as he would give his young friend accom- 
 modation in his own quarters. 
 
 Despair fled at the words : the enthusiast saw Fortune smiling 
 again ; and the lover's heart jumped at the chances involved in the 
 proffered invitation. " 
 
60 c£ s. cL 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 On retiring from the hospitable board of the Commandant, with what 
 surprise did Ned find himself walking down the street arm in arm with 
 a count — or a captain, as he chose to be called there — and a passing 
 wonder was experienced by Ned, how any man could wish to conceal 
 his rank — that is, when it was a high one. But the wonder was 
 momentary ; superseded by the ecstatic idea of seeing his enchantress 
 in a few minutes ; nay, of being under the same roof with her ; but 
 ah ! what was his disappointment, when he found, on reaching the 
 soldier's barrack-room, his fond anticipations unfounded I — " How many 
 tricks hath fortune played me to-day," thought Ned — and he sighed at 
 the thought. Hitherto, with the timidity of true love, and a young 
 heart, he had not dared to breathe her name ; but his impatience 
 would no longer remain within bounds, and he hazarded a timid 
 question after her health. 
 
 *' I thank you, she is well," said the soldier ; " and may God keep 
 her so — and in safety ! " he added, and seemed, in uttering these last 
 words, as if he thought aloud. Then relapsing into silence, a shade 
 of deep reflection settled on his brow, and he did not speak for some 
 minutes. Suddenly he addressed Ned, asking him, that, as there was 
 no immediate business to detain him at Courtrai, if he would object 
 to visit other towns, better worth seeing. Ned raised no objection, 
 merely saying he should be on his return to Dunkirk in some few 
 days. 
 
 " You can do that, and oblige me too," said Lynch ; " and also see 
 the person after whom you have asked so politely — my daughter." 
 
 Ned could hardly answer for the breathlessness of delight, but he 
 stammered a hasty assurance of his happiness to oblige in the par- 
 ticular requested. 
 
 " Then you can carry a letter to her, for which purpose I require a 
 trusty messenger, and you have already proved how stout and sure a 
 friend you can be;— but if you would oblige me, you must start 
 to-night." 
 
 Ned assented with alacrity; and the Captain, writing a short 
 letter, which he placed in Ned's hands, took down a sword from the 
 wall where it hung, and presented it to his young friend. 
 
 " You can ride to-night in perfect safety, with a detachment of 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 61 
 
 dragoons going to strengthen Belem ; but, as you will have to proceed 
 thence alone by the canal to Bruges, and, in these rude times, may 
 meet blustering people, it is as well to be provided witli the means 
 of defence." 
 
 Ned, after expressing thanks for the gift, buckled it to his side, 
 and they proceeded immediately to the quarter where the cavalry 
 was already mustering for the march, and Edward being presented to 
 the officer in command by Lynch, was allowed to join the party, 
 riding one of the troop-horses. As he departed, a single but deep 
 and earnest ' farewell ' was bestowed by the stern soldier. 
 
 The night-march was rapid and fatiguing ; but Ned, with the 
 excitement produced by the novelty of the scene, and, beyond all, the 
 promising nature of his mission, would gladly have borne twice as 
 much ; the 
 
 "Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war" 
 
 were around him ; the martial clang of arms, and rapid tramp of steeds, 
 rang through the darkness. The glitter and flutter of gold and steel and 
 plume, that dazzle by day, were not there, but snatches of moonbeams 
 struggling through the clouds, lighted them more picturesquely than 
 sunshine, and rendered the scene, if less brilliant, more romantic. 
 
 As soon as he reached Belem, notwithstanding all his fatigue, 
 lie sought not repose, but lost no time in embarking in the first 
 passage-boat which proceeded to Bruges. In the boat, however, 
 exhausted nature sought the repose she needed, and he slept for some 
 hours, until the clatter of dinner aroused him. — Here was another 
 novel scene to Ned ; smoking, eating, and drinking, all going on to- 
 gether, the women joining in the latter pretty freely ; and the custom 
 being that the wine bill should be defrayed by the men, travelling 
 ])achelors undergoing a sort of tax upon celibacy, by paying for the 
 wine of other men's wives and daughters, Ned found the Flemish 
 fair sex had a tolerable capacity for the consumption of the article. 
 There was but one person on board who could speak a word of 
 English, and only a few broken scraps were at his disi:)osal. This 
 occasioned Ned to attach himself to the company of this person, though 
 there was something in the man from which he was instinctively in- 
 clined to shrink, a sort of bird-of-prey look that was repulsive, yet 
 through the desire to ask a question, so natural in a young traveller, 
 our hero overcame his prejudices, and submitted to the companion- 
 ship. Ned found he was well acquainted with Bruges ; and as they 
 approached the town, the magnificent tower of the town-hall (the 
 carillon), the lofty steeple of Notre Dame and other spires were 
 named to our young traveller by the obliging stranger, to whom 
 Ned fancied he had done great injustice by his antipath3% 
 
 " You can tell me, then," said our hero, " in what part of tlip town 
 
G2 
 
 I can find this address ;" and he produced the letter he was bearing to 
 Ellen. 
 
 Ned saw an extra brightness flash in the SAvarthy stranger's keen 
 eye as he glanced at the direction ; but it was momentary ; and he 
 calmly answered, he should be happy to show him the house, warning 
 against trusting to any paid guides through the town, as they were 
 tlie greatest villains unhanged. Ned remembered the Captain's part- 
 ing words and his gift of the sword, and was therefore readier to 
 give credit to the stranger's admonition. 
 
 " I vill show good 'ouse to Monsieur,^^ said the friend, whom Ned 
 thankfully followed; and the stranger led him to the Singed' Or, 
 where he proposed they should have soam leetel refraish togezzer, and 
 that he would conduct him afterwards to the place he songht for ; he 
 then left Ned, on some pretence, saying he would be back by the time 
 the ^ refraish^ was ready, which, having been ordered with all speed, 
 Ned expected to make its appearance in some twenty minutes ; but 
 when an hour elapsed, and the stranger returned not, Ned fancied he had 
 forgotten him and the * refraish ' altogether, and therefore determined 
 to delay no longer the delivery of the letter ; demanding a guide, he 
 issued from the inn, and after traversing some intricate and inodorous 
 bye-ways, his conductor indicated with his pointed finger that the house 
 he sought lay up a street into which he had just turned. Ned saw a 
 carriage with a door open, and a figure standing, as if in attendance, 
 which struck him to be the hawk-eyed stranger of the passage-boat — 
 the next instant a lady issued from the house; it was Ellen ; and the 
 stranger assisted her to the carriage; — a thought of treachery flashed 
 across Edward's mind, and he ran with all speed to the spot, where the 
 stranger was employing his utmost haste to shut up the steps and close 
 the door. But Edward arrived in time to present himself before 
 Ellen, who grew alternately pale and red on beholding him, and saw in 
 his excited look some occasion of unusual moment — while his lu'sent 
 appeal to lier to stop was met by the swarthy stranger's passionate 
 exclamation that there was not a moment to delay; this he urged, speak- 
 ing rapidly in French to Ellen, with much gesticulation. 
 
 " I fear there is treachery here," cried Ned, eagerly ; but he was 
 interrupted by the Frenclnnan, who, with some contemptuous gesticu- 
 lation towards him, gabbled a torrent of talk to Ellen, which Ned 
 could not understand, as the stranger spoke his own language. But 
 our hero would not be thus put down ; for, laying hold of the door, and 
 shoving the intruder aside, he put his head into the carriage, and said, 
 
 " Dear lady — if this rascal is trying to persuade you that I am not 
 your father's authorized messenger, he is a liar !" 
 
 ^' Sacre!" exclaimed the Frenchman, who, with gnashing teetli and 
 eyes flashing fire, drew his sword fiercely, and with such evidence of 
 
-I h 
 
 
 =- « \ 
 
 
 fel (f^ 
 
 ^yij/i^^^ 
 
 e^. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 03 
 
 reality in his evil intention, that Ned had his rapier out in time to 
 parry the furious thrust of his assailant, whose fierce and rapid lunges, 
 urged with great personal power, lashed to its utmost exertion by rage, 
 placed our hero's life in iniminent jeopardy. Ellen screamed ; and, 
 opening the carriage door, was about to rush between the combatants, 
 when a rapidly-returned pass from Ned laid the base Lerroux dead at 
 the feet of the lovely creature he would have betrayed. 
 
 Ellen would have fallen to the ground but that Edward caught her 
 in his arms, and bore her into the house, where the attention of the 
 rapidly-assembled domestics recalled her from her swoon. . Her first 
 words, on recovering, were to urge Edward to immediate flight, but 
 his answer was handing her the letter of her father, and saying, '• I 
 must not go until I know if there is any other duty I can perform." 
 
 She glanced over the letter, and exclaimed, " Oh! from what peril 
 you have preserved me! — but you have slain a Frenchman, and are in 
 the hands of his countrymen, in arms— Fly! for Heaven's sake, fly! — 
 Then wringing her hands, she exclaimed, "Alas! alas! am I doomed 
 always to involve you in trouble?" 
 
 She looked with so much gentleness at Edward as she spoke, that a 
 thrill of delight shot through his frame, and he exclaimed, with an 
 emotion to which no woman's ear could be insensible, " Think not for 
 a moment of my danger ; I would gladly lay down my life for you ! " 
 
 The sound of commotion in the street without now became audible, 
 and increased more while they spoke ; and when Ellen moved to the 
 window and looked out, she suddenly withdrew, alarm impressed on 
 every feature. " They are gathering fearfully, — it is impossible you 
 can escape by the front ; the court in the rear opens on the canal, and 
 a boat is at the stair. — Hasten, Ernestine !" she exclaimed to a ftiir- 
 li aired girl, her attendant ; " put this gentleman across the canal, and 
 you will escape immediate interruption. Lead him at once to the 
 nearest gate, — get him out of the town, for Heaven's sake, — and when 
 once you gain the suburb," she added, addressing herself to Edward, 
 '• you can procure the meaps of escape, and neglect it not for an 
 instant, as you value your life. Fly ! I beseech you." 
 
 " Lady !" said Edward, " I have a word in private for you." 
 
 " There is no time." 
 
 " I cannot leave without." 
 
 Ellen rapidly waved the attendants from the room, and closed the 
 door. 
 
 " Be brief." 
 
 '• I may never see you again, but I cannot leave you without telling 
 yon, that a mad presumption has entered ray heart, — Oh, do not start 
 — I am going. — I hope and believe I shall yet have fortune, and 
 one day mujht hope — Oli, say, if ever I come back, where may I 
 
64 
 
 £ 
 
 hear of you ? Do I presume too much ? — Oh, be not angry with me I" 
 he exclaimed, imploringly, dropping on his knee at her feet, and 
 taking her hand, 
 
 " Against one who has been my preserver," said Ellen, trembling, 
 " gratitude forbids I should entertain anger ; — but this is folly, and 
 may cost you your life." 
 
 " Then answer — where shall I hear of you ?" 
 
 " To save your life I imist speak," said Ellen. " At the Convent 
 of the Assumption, in this city, you are likely always to hear of me." 
 
 " A convent !" exclaimed Edward, with a look of horror. 
 
 A louder murmur rose from the street as he spoke, and Ellen's 
 pallor and tremor increased. 
 
 " If you really respect me," she said, " fly." 
 
 He ventured to press the hand he held to his lips, and rose, and 
 uttering a passionate farewell, hurried from the room. On the stairs 
 Ernestine was waiting for him, and beckoned him rapidly to follow 
 her. To run down the court, jump into a boat, and cross a canal, was 
 tlie work of a very few minutes, and a few more found them threading 
 back streets towards one of the gates. As they hurried along, a 
 chime of bells rang out, and an expression of alarm overspread the 
 girl's face, as she beckoned Edward to greater speed, and ran forward 
 to the gate that was now in sight. They ran till" they were out of 
 breath, and reached the guarded portal only to learn that the gates 
 were closed for the night, and none must pass. 
 
 ^ 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 65 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Ernestine could not avoid betraying in her countenance alarm and 
 anxiety, which might have been enough to waken the suspicion of the 
 sentry had he been a reasonable man ; but, as he was a conceited fellow, 
 he attributed the changing colour of the damsel to the result of the 
 impertinent love-glances he cast from those bold eyes, which he fancied 
 capable of conquering any woman alive, and, as he ogled the fair 
 Fleming most unequivocally, the girl's agitation was set down to his 
 grenadier gallantry. 
 
 Ernestine through all her alarm saw this, and \Yiih womanly readi- 
 ness determined to make use of it ; she pouted her ripe lips into the 
 prettiest form of entreaty, and bent the most love-like gaze of suppli- 
 cation from her blue eyes as she urged every ingenious plea she could 
 think of, to be permitted to pass the wicket. It was in vain ; — to 
 every appeal the grenadier only chucked her under the chin, and told 
 her to " try again," till at last Ernestine, seeing he was making a jest 
 of her, left oif calling him " cruel," which she hoped would have made 
 him kind, and, saying he was an impertinent fellow, turned away from 
 the gate in bitter disappointment that all the powder and shot of her 
 coquetry had been thrown away, and in much anxiety respecting the 
 safety of the young gentleman who had been put under her charge. 
 For some time the girl seemed absorbed in thought as she retraced 
 her steps with speed across the bridge and down the main street from 
 the gate, till turning into one less frequented she relaxed her speed, 
 and, looking round to see that none were near to observe, she stretched 
 forth her arms in the action of swimming, with a look of inquiry to 
 Ned, who having answered by a nod of assent, she hurried forward 
 again. Ernestine's pantomimic question arose from a little plot she 
 had contrived for placing her charge in some place of safety 7vitMn 
 the city, as she could not get him out oi it ; and as the only one she 
 knew was in a public part of the town, and not far from where the 
 fatal affray took place, the difficulty lay in getting the fugitive there 
 without observation. This she feared was impossible by crossing any 
 of the bridges — at least it was perilous, and as the house she intended 
 for his sanctuary had a water-gate which opened on one of the canals, 
 her plan was to go round by the bridges by herself, and leave Edward 
 
 'f 
 
GG £ 5. (I. 
 
 to lie in some momentary place of concealment, till she could advertise 
 the inmates of the house of her intention, and give a signal to Ned 
 from the opposite side of the canal, which, as he could swim, would 
 present no other obstacle than a wet jacket between him and security. 
 
 The understanding between Ned and his guide had been so perfect 
 by the mere intervention of gesture, that no further explanation was 
 required for the present to comprehend one another's meaning, — he 
 understanding she expected him to swim, and she quite satisfied he 
 could do so ; therefore she trotted on, and he after her, through a 
 multiplicity of intricate windings, which reminded Ned of his native 
 town in their high flavour and narrowness.* They soon debouched, 
 however, from these labyrinths of nastiness into the broader and more 
 frequented part of the town ; but the relief to one sense gave alarm 
 to another, for the eye became painfully alive to passing groups, whose 
 upraised voices and gesticulation showed they were moved by some 
 event producing popular excitement, and many of the military were 
 among them. Ernestine hurried across one thoroughfare thus occu- 
 pied, and cast a furtive glance backward to see that Edward followed 
 unmolested, and, when assured of this, she took no further notice, but 
 led onward with unslackened pace through the quieter intersecting 
 street till she reached the opening on the next highway, where a sight 
 was before her enough to shake a stouter heart ; for a party of 
 soldiers were at the moment bearing over the bridge the body of 
 Lerroux on a litter, and seemed excited even to ferocity. 
 
 Ernestine grew white with terror, and, turning suddenly back, abso- 
 lutely dragged Edward after her till they reached a low-browed arch 
 leading up a dark entry, to the farthest extremity of which they quickl}^ 
 retired, waiting in silent anxiety until the receding murmurs should 
 tell them the savage crowd was past. They listened breathlessly, but 
 the noise increased rather than diminished, and to their dismay, the 
 mob turned down the street to which they were so close. Ernestine, 
 trembling from head to foot, leaned for support on Ned, who grasped 
 the handle of his sword in readiness to sell his life deai'ly, if need 
 might be. On poured the stream of the growling and swearing mul- 
 titude, past the little entry which reverberated to their heavy tramp, 
 and whence the fugitives could see from out the friendly shadow the 
 grim faces that were passing. The numbers grew less and less — the 
 murmur faded into distance, and soon the tramp of some following 
 straggler alone disturbed the quiet street. Ernestine ventured to peep 
 
 * There are many points of similitude between Bruges and Galway. The heavy 
 portals forming the entrance to quadrangular buildings, — the narrow passages 
 through successive arches, not over sweet,— and the Spanish look of the women 
 with their ample cloaks, are singularly like. Tliis may be accounted for by the 
 extensive intercourse subsisting between Spain and Gahvay in ancient times. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 67 
 
 oirt, and, beckoning Edward to follow, they emerged from their hiding 
 place, and again dared the streets, over which the shadows of evening, 
 now falling, favoured their retreat, which the careful girl still con- 
 trived should lie through the most quiet ways. At last they arrived 
 at an open square, whose odour proclaimed it at once a fishmarket, 
 and whose proximity to the water showed the fitness of the locality. 
 Hurrying to the quay, Ernestine, after casting a few inquiring 
 glances about, thought a barge moored to the bank the most favour- 
 able chance that oiFered for her purpose, and, stepping on board, she 
 was soon joined by Edward. She pointed to a house nearly opposite, 
 with a water-gate opening directly upon the canal, and gave Edward 
 to understand that he should remain in the barge until she could get 
 round by a bridge to that particular house, to which, as soon as he 
 saw her\ he should swim. She then departed hastily, and Edward 
 cast a glance across the water to measure the distance of his aquatic 
 short cut. 
 
 Not far from his promised asylum stood a building of such quaint 
 and peculiar beauty, that Edward, even amidst the reasonable anxiety 
 of his situation, could not avoid remarking it. Its graceful pinnacles 
 yet sparkled in the sunset, and the elaborate beauty of their form 
 was more remarkable from being wrought in brick, whose makers 
 and layers in olden time must have far surpassed all modern work- 
 men, judging from the exquisite specimens still to be seen in Holland 
 and Belgium. But though its pinnacles were still bright, the greater 
 mass of the building was sinking into shadows, relieved only by the 
 small squares of glass in its ample windows catching a light here and 
 there, which, reflected in the canal beneath, broke the massiveness of 
 shadow, which would otherwise have been heavy, and made one of 
 those pictures which only such amphibious places afford. 
 
 He withdrew his eyes now and then from the sparkling pinnacles 
 to cast a glance at the little water-gate in search of Ernestine, and 
 had not long to wait, for the assiduous girl had used all speed to 
 accomplish her object ; and Edward soon saw her standing within the 
 recess of the opposite arch, and waving a handkerchief by way of 
 signal. Letting himself down gently by a rope from the barge's side 
 into the water, to avoid the noise a plunge would have made, he 
 struck out boldly across the canal, and Ernestine received the dripping 
 fugitive with smiles and testimonies of admiration, and led him imme- 
 diately up a winding stair, at the head of which a fat old lady, the 
 picture of good living, was waiting to receive him. She shook him 
 by the hand with an air of elaborate politeness, and said, " Velkim, 
 velkim." She then talked an immensity in her own language, with 
 a word of English here and there, to Ned, who was shaking the weight 
 of water from his garments in the hall, while the fat old lady poured 
 
 f2 
 
68 <^ s. d. 
 
 a torrent of directions to Ernestine, who was running up stairs, after 
 having received them, but was recalled to get a fresh supply of 
 orders. Off went Ernestine again, and by the time she was near the 
 top of the house, the old babbler must have her back for some fresh 
 order, — and this was repeated several times, till the girl's patience 
 was exhausted, and, affecting not to hear the recall still screamed after 
 her, she pursued her way up stairs to get fresh clothes for Edward. 
 
 The old lady then told him she could speak English, though he 
 would scarcely have found it out without her saying so, for her few 
 words, badly pronounced, were so crushed between her native gutturals, 
 with which she made up her conversation, that no dictionary in the 
 language would have recognised the disfigured creatures as ac- 
 quaintances, and they could only be classed amongst the vagrants and 
 vagabonds that go wandering over the world without a claim on any 
 society ; few and shapeless as the words were, however, she made it 
 intelligible that she acquired a knowledge of English from her second 
 husband, but that it was to her third that Edward was to be indebted 
 for his clothes. 
 
 " But yaw are vet, naut moche, I dink," said Madam Ghabbel- 
 kramme. 
 
 Ned shook his head, and the skirts of his coat, and said, *' VeryT 
 
 " Bote it vos so droi here — very — dis zummer." 
 
 " Maybe so, ma'am," said Ned ; "but the canal is very wet, I assure 
 you." 
 
 "Ah no — cannaut — dis year rain not moche." 
 
 " The little that was of it, ma'am," said Ned, " is very penetrating 
 however." 
 
 The feet of Ernestine were now heard pattering down stairs, and she 
 soon made her appearance bearing a bundle of clothes. 
 
 Madam attempted a long talk with Ernestine about the clothes, 
 which the girl strove to cut short by hurrying towards a side room off 
 the hall ; but madam held her back by her skirt as she gained the 
 door, and said that, as the garments had not been worn since her 
 poor dear good man had died, that they must want airing. To 
 whicli the girl replied, with an exclamation of wonder at madam's 
 absurd care, that they were certainly more dry than those tlie young 
 gentleman had on him. Edward, seeing the tendency to discussion 
 on the old lady's part, lost no time in following Ernestine into the 
 I'oom ; where the girl, depositing the clothes in a chair, gave him a 
 significant nod to make the most of his time ; and, notwithstanding 
 the old lady's attempt to establish a parley at the portal, Edward 
 contrived to get the door shut sooner than his hostess thought con- 
 sistent with that politeness to the fair sex which she constantly 
 preached, and of which she considered herself a most deserving object. 
 
TKEASURE TROVE. 69 
 
 She kept talking to him, however, through the door all the time 
 Ned was effecting his change, which presented two difficulties, the first 
 to drag off the wet garments which clung to him, and the second to 
 keep the ample folds which had encased the rotund proportions of the 
 late Herr Ghabbelkramme from Tailing about his heels ; no possible 
 buttoning would do it, and he was fain to hold them up with his 
 hands, which the cajDacious sleeves and heavy ruffles of the portly 
 burgher rendered nearly useless. It was as much as Ned could do to 
 get one hand free to open the door, at which the fussy old lady began 
 to knock impatiently, and when she entered, her desire to give Ned a 
 second shake of welcome by the other almost produced a catastrophe 
 which it would have given us pain to record. Ernestine saw our hero's 
 difficulty, and, while she laughed at it, promptly set about its removal; 
 huge pins were put in requisition, and at length the application of a 
 scarf round his middle set Ned's mind at ease and his hands at 
 liberty, whereupon his fat hostess shook them heartily, and remarked 
 to Ernestine, how slender the youth looked in the burgher's clothes. 
 
 "Augh!" exclaimed she in German, "Ghabbelkramme was a fine 
 man — but to say the truth, the youth is good-looking." She then led 
 the way to another chamber where the supper table, handsomely 
 provided at all points, was laid, and, after some words to Ernestine, 
 the latter departed, and Edward was left tete-a-tete with the old 
 lady, who did not seem in the least to regret that he did not answer 
 one word, but appeared the happier that she had all the talk to herself, 
 in which she never relaxed for one moment. There were a good 
 many pictures in the room, most of them daubs done to order ; 
 among them were three portraits of the three former lords and masters 
 of the extensive domain of female loveliness that now stood before 
 Edward, and this she contrived to make him understand by pointing 
 to them and saying, as each was indicated — 
 
 " Dat is mine von ; dat i s mine doo ; dat is mine dree. Mine 
 von vos gooder ; mine doo vos beast er ; but, mine dree vcs pigger. 
 Dem is his goats ;" and she pointed to Ned's coat and nether gar- 
 ments as she spoke. She then indicated several portraits of herself 
 at different periods of life ; and by reference to these and those of her 
 husbands, and afterwards calling his attention to various composition 
 pictures which hung round the room, gave him to understand that 
 she and her former lords had sat as models for the principal figures. 
 It would seem the tastes had varied at the different periods of these 
 pictures being painted. In the earliest, the pastoral prevailed — 
 Madame figured as a shepherdess. In the second, the mythology was 
 laid under contribution for the subject ; and here, as Daphne, she was 
 escaping at the very moment of metamorphose from a bloated Apollo, 
 who seemed very much blown with his run ; ^^hile the tree into which 
 
10 £ 6*. (L 
 
 she was changing was by far the least wooden part of the picture. 
 In the third era scriptural subjects prevailed, and this mountain of 
 " too solid flesh " had done some of the most renowned beauties of 
 sacred history the favour of being their representative. In some of 
 the accessory seraphic groups, too, she would indicate the handsomest, 
 and say, *^Dat is vie; — but here is 'noder — ver goot indeet :" and she 
 pointed to the largest picture in the room, the subject being Tobit and 
 the Angel. "Dat is goot to ebbery potty ebhery time (which was 
 the old lady's way of expressing always) — Ghabblekramme vos Tobit 
 — de hangel is me" Ned found it difficult to resist laughing, and 
 commenced a voluble praise of the picture to escape such a breach of 
 politeness, remarking how very naturally the fish was represented. 
 
 " Oh, yais," said madam, " ebbery ting from nature — de veesh vrom 
 de market — ver goot — after bainter baint him, de cock made him for 
 zuppers ; — ebbery ting from nature, ebbery time, in goot vorks ; — 
 Ghabblekramme vos Tobit — de veesh vrom de veesh — and de hangel 
 is me." Ned could no longer resist a smile, which she perceiving, 
 she requested him to remember that she was much more beautiful then 
 than now ; and by certain applications of her hands squeezing in her 
 present redundancy, and her pointed finger referring to departed 
 dimples, and cutting certain figures through the air indicating various 
 lines of beauty, she endeavoured to convince her guest that she was 
 the remains of a Venus, somewhat enlarged. 
 
 " But dat is all mine goot humour, — I am so grabble, (agreeable, she 
 meant to say), it is bleasant to live mid me, I do adsure you ;'* and 
 she gave Ned a tender glance as she spoke. 
 
 "All mine von, mine doo, mine dree, zay I vos so grabble ; dere 
 is mek me happy-not, only von ting, — I am 'vraid zum day I vill grow 
 too tick :" she was eighteen stone if she was a pound, as she spoke 
 the words. 
 
 Ned would have given the world to have laughed out, and screwed 
 his mouth into all sorts of shapes, to keep in the rebellious merriment 
 that was producing internal convulsion. 
 
 " I zee," said the old lady, " you laughs at mine bat vorts of Hin- 
 gelish ; but you naut know notten Deitch — zo me petters dan you." 
 Leaving tlie room as she spoke, Ned was left to his own observations 
 of the chamber, which had much in it indicating wealth. There were an 
 Indian cabinet and screen, jars and beakers of china, idols of marble and 
 gilded metal, and monsters in porcelain of the direst forms of ugliness, 
 rich cornices and mouldings, liangings of that stiff damask which we 
 only now have a notion of through old pictures, and tall-backed chairs 
 of walnut w^ood and cut velvet inciting to sedentary ease. Every 
 thing in the room bore an aspect curiously coinciding with the fi"-ure 
 of the mistress. The cabinet was square-built and thick, and one 
 
THEASURE TROVE. 71 
 
 open drawer, crammed Avitli a medley of things, gave some idea of the 
 surfeit tinder which the rest were labouring ; while another empty 
 one seemed protruded by the poor cabinet itself to get a mouthful of 
 air. The jars were of the most rotund forms, the dragons seemed 
 bursting, the idols were bloated, and the very chairs seemed stuffed as 
 full as they could cram. His further observation was interrupted by 
 the return of his hostess, followed by a stout-built fran, bearing a 
 tray holding several dishes ; upon which, as they were laid one by one 
 on the table, the lady who feared she would grow " too tick " looked 
 with an eye of affection little in keeping with such an apprehension, 
 and, when all was ready, she motioned Ned to a chair, and then, flop- 
 ping dow^n into one herself, squeezed as near the table as her good 
 humour would allow her, and commenced operations. After helping 
 her guest, she set to herself, and though Ned, as might be expected 
 from his youth and hardy calling, could play a tolerably good knife 
 and fork, or was, in Irish parlance, a capital " trencher-boy," he was 
 a fool to his hostess, who made astounding havoc with both eatables 
 and drinkables. No sooner was one dish cleared, than an assault was 
 made on another ; and, though Ned did all he could to keep a lady in 
 countenance, he was forced to give in long before she relaxed in her 
 labour of love. Heavens ! how she did gobble and swill ! it was 
 almost sublime, and, somehow or other, she contrived to talk all the 
 time. At last she seemed to have done, and spoke to the servant, 
 Avho partly cleared the table and retired, and the interval was made 
 use of by Madame Ghabblekramme to pull a large handkerchief from 
 her pocket and rub down her face, which began to give some dewy 
 evidence of the exertion she had gone through. She pulled a second 
 handkerchief from another pocket, and before making use of it, said, 
 " I am zo partic, ebbery time, mid mine ankleshift, — ^you zee I habben 
 von — to make mine nose — and 'nudder vor to zweep mine face." 
 
 The servant returned bearing an enormous dish of salad, — a perfect 
 stack of vegetable production, which Ned declined meddling with, 
 though assured by his hostess it was an excellent thing after a hearty 
 meal ; but she remarked on his continued refusal to taste it, that 
 perhaps he was right, as he was "too tin" to eat salad; — "Bickos," 
 added she, " I take him vor to kip minezelf tin." Then plunging her 
 weapons right into the whole dish of vegetable, she began to gobble 
 salad in a style that might have shamed a Neapolitan bolting macaroni ; 
 and, as she paused sometimes to take breath, would pant forth this assu- 
 rance to Ned: "Augh ! — dat is goot vor me !" But, as every thing 
 in this world must come to an end, poor Madame Ghabblekramme 
 finished her salad at last, and sighed as she followed the dish with her 
 eyes as it was borne away by the attendant yra?/. The table, however, 
 was replenished with dishes of fruit ; and burly, round-bodied, jolly- 
 
72 £ s. d. 
 
 looking bottles, filled with good wine, and long-stemmed glasses, orna- 
 mented with spiral lines of white, sparkled gaily on the board. In 
 making free with these, Ned had a better chance of coping with the 
 old lady, though it is not unlikely, if she had a mind, she could have 
 put Ned under the table. The curtains being drawn, and the cham- 
 ber well lighted with a plenty of wax candles, which stood in hand- 
 some candelabra of bronze gilt, resting on richly-carved oaken 
 brackets, and the servant having retired, they were now left to them- 
 selves, and another avalanche of talk fell upon Ned. She told him 
 she was very rich, with good houses, and good plate; "gelt and 
 silber, — and blenty," — and she " so grabble," that it was easy to live 
 with her, — and Bruges was a very good town to live in. On asking 
 Ned if he did not think so, he answered, that it was impossible he 
 could judge, as he had but just arrived. To this she replied, that he 
 might stay in Bruges as long as he liked, where he might consider her 
 house as his. She told him then something of her history, assuring 
 him that when young she was extremely handsome, and even now 
 that she had a more delicate skin than many a girl, and held out 
 her arm to Ned that he might prove it by touch. He, young in the 
 world, and never having had the opportunity of observing to what 
 absurd lengths vanity can be stretched, did not attribute the old lady's 
 absurdity to its true cause, but began to think she was a little mad ; 
 and, instead of being inspired with disgust, entertained pity for her, 
 which gave such a softness to his manner, that the old dame enter- 
 tained a notion she was making a conquest, and began to look round 
 the room to see if there was a spare corner for Ned's picture. To 
 Ned's great relief, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of 
 Ellen, attended by Ernestine, though the pleasure he experieno^d on 
 beholding her, which at first chased every other idea, was a little 
 dashed when he rose at her entrance; for the feeling of the fat 
 burgher's clothes slipping off gave him such a notion of his own 
 ridiculous figure, that it shocked him to be seen in such a plight by his 
 charmer. She, crossing the room with exquisite grace, approached 
 Madame Ghabblekramme to make her salutation, which the old lady 
 did not seem inclined to receive a bit too well, for it disturbed her in 
 the pursuit of an agreeable idea. Ellen then turning to Edward 
 begged him to be seated, with an air of the gentlest courtesy : he was 
 glad to obey, being conscious he looked less ridiculous sitting, as he 
 could stow away some of the extra folds and flaps and skirts of 
 Mynlierrs voluminous garments behind him, and show a better front. 
 
 "Vat vor you kummen here ?" inquired Madame Ghabblekramme, 
 rather gruffly, cranching an apple while she spoke. 
 
 "I came to thank you, my dear Madame," replied Ellen, in the 
 sweetest manner, " for the protection you have afforded this gentle- 
 
S.^J 
 
 QAK/r-"^ 
 
 ^/7^y?9^y 
 
 i^AiZ^^^'/ei^^^ta/^?Z'9?t£<^ C^:?7^A4a/LiU>d^z^: 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 73 
 
 man." As if she thought the ceremonious term of " gentleman " cold, 
 she then said, — " my friend ;" and then, as if she feared she had said 
 too much, added, — " my father's friend." 
 
 Edward bowed low as she uttered the words, and felt himself ele- 
 vated in the scale of creation, to have woxi such a name from her lips. 
 
 "And I am glad to tell you," she continued to Edward, "that I have 
 interested the good Father Flaherty in your behalf, and he has pro- 
 mised to see you into a sure place of safety, and get you unharmed 
 out of the town." 
 
 " He is 'nuff safe vere he is," replied Madame Ghabblekramme, 
 tartly ; " ve vant naut Vader Flart." 
 
 " Remember, dear madam, that, in case of need, he could place him 
 in sanctuary." 
 
 " Sanctum — little ! de yhung mans is fer goot vere he is ; — vaut a 
 vright you iz, mine loaf, to-night ! you iz a vite as mine dabble- 
 clout ;" — and she laid her hand on the table-cloth as she spoke ; " vy 
 iz you naut all rosen liken to me ?" 
 
 " I have been much frightened, madam, this evening." 
 
 " Yais, — you looks liken to dead ; you iz alfays too tin, bote now 
 you looken like a skelter." 
 
 *• Not quite a skeleton, madam," said Ellen, smiling. 
 
 " Yais, — skelleter ; — you never had proper-shins." 
 
 Edward, who had hitherto listened with amazement, became indig- 
 nant at what he thought an attack on the symmetry of the young 
 lady's legs, not being able to comprehend that old Ghabblekramme 
 meant j^roportions, when she said " proper-shins." 
 
 Ellen only laughed, and the old lady continued : — 
 
 " You can laughen, mine tear, — bote you iz no peauty, dough you 
 tink zo, — maynbe ; — young foomins tinks it peauty to be tin, — but de 
 mans knows petters. Now you looken, mine tear !" and taking a 
 knife in her hand and holding it upright on the table, she said : 
 "Dere! you are just liken to dat — stret before, and stret behind, 
 and vair?/ tin." 
 
 Ned could hardly keep his temper ; but the gentle smile of Ellen 
 calmed him by its sweetness, and when he saw Ernestine laughing 
 behind the old woman's chair, it taught him to regard the old lady's 
 sj)eeches as they did. As he looked at Ernestine, he saw a dai'k 
 figure emerge from behind a screen, and gently approach the chair of 
 Madame Ghabblekramme, as she continued : — 
 
 " Yais, mine loaf, don't you be konsetted ; — if you aff hearen as 
 I aff hearen de mans' talk of de foomins, you vould know petters : 
 a poor tin tread of a ting is not grabble to de mans, I do adsure you ! 
 — de talken of poor tin tings, as — cane chairs, mine loaf; — as teal 
 poards, mine tear !" 
 
74 £ s. d. 
 
 By this time, Father Flaherty, for it was he whom Ned had seen 
 advance, laid his hand on the back of Madame Ghabblekramme's 
 chair, and overlooking the mountain of conceit beneath him, exclaimed 
 in a rich brogue, after she had uttered the words, " deal poards and 
 cane chairs," — "Arrah, then, Madame Ghabblekramme, acushla, did 
 you ever hear of such a thing as a feather-bed ?" 
 
 Ned could " mind his manners " no longer, — he burst out laughing, 
 and even the trained courtesy of Ellen could not repress her mirth. 
 Ernestine, though she could not understand a word, gathered the 
 meaning from the result of the father's speech, and ran out of the 
 room to enjoy herself at freedom in the hall. 
 
 " Yais, — Vader Flart, — I know vat is vedder bet ; — dere is vedder 
 bet in mine 'ouse." 
 
 "All the town knows that, ma'am." 
 
 "And you taken avay must not— dis yhung mans, — vor I aff a 
 redder ])et vor him dis neight, so kumfitab." 
 
 " It would Ibe too much indulgence, ma'am, for a youth. I must 
 treat him to sackcloth and ashes in my own little gazebo." 
 
 " No, no ! — not must be, Vader Flart !" Then turning to Edward, 
 she said, "You vill not "go, — ^you vill not go to zackclbut, and leaf 
 your vedder bet, — you vill not leaf your vedder bet ?" 
 
 She said this so tenderly, that Ned, remembering its allusion to her- 
 self, could not repress a smile, though he answered respectfully, that, 
 much as he thanked her for the offer of her hospitality, he was bound 
 to go wherever 3Iademoiselle and the good Father desired. 
 
 '• Den you are bat mans, Vader Flart, to taken avay mine vrent." 
 
 Ned hurried from the room with the father, who came provided 
 with a proper disguise ; and in the side chamber off the hall, where 
 Ned made his first change, he assumed a clerical habit, more suited to 
 his size than the garments of the fat burgher. 
 
 " 'Pon my word, you are a good figure for the part, young gentle- 
 man," said Father Flaherty to Ned, when he was dressed ; " only your 
 hair has a very unsanctified twist about it ; however, we can shave 
 your head if necessary." 
 
 Witli this prospect of losing what it must be confessed Ned was a 
 little vain of, and which, as he hoped to see Ellen again before he left 
 Bruges, he particularly wished to preserve, he left the house closely 
 tucked under the sheltering wing of Father Flaherty, who kept 
 humming snatches of Irish tunes as they wended their way through 
 the now silent streets. 
 
 Passing in front of the Hotel de Ville, they walked close beside a 
 soldier, keeping guard beneath its massive and lofty tower ; and tlie 
 padre remarked, it was little the sentry knew who was close to him ! 
 Striking across the ample square in its front, the chimes of the 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 75 
 
 carillGn rang forth, and Edward recognised in the plaintive melody 
 the very notes he found written on the music paper he made prize of 
 at Hamburgh. With those who love, every circumstance that relates 
 to their passion, culminating to the one dear point, increases its force, 
 and so the merest trifles become important. Thus it was with Edward 
 on hearing the chime ; — he stopped suddenly and listened, and the 
 sweet tones of the bells, as they rang out their liquid melody high in 
 air, seemed like aerial voices speaking to him of his love. 
 
 " What ails you?" said the priest. 
 
 " Oh those bells !" exclaimed Edward in ecstasy. 
 
 '' Why, then, is it stoppin' you are to listen to the clatter of those 
 owld pots and pans!" exclaimed the i^riest, dragging him onward. 
 
 What a savage Ned thought Father Flaherty, and what a simpleton 
 he thought his protege. 
 
 " Sure this is twice as purty a tune as that owld cronan^^ said the 
 priest, lilting a bit of an Irish jig, which quickened their pace by 
 urging them to step in time to it, and brought them the sooner to the 
 end of their walk. 
 
 Ned thankfully refused the hospitable offers of refreshment on the 
 part of the padre, as his supper had been so substantial ; and after the 
 excitement and fatigue of mind and body he had experienced, he began 
 to feel the need of rest, and the kind-hearted priest showed him to his 
 sleeping -room. 
 
 Now that he was alone and in security, the eventful circumstances 
 of the last few hours crowded rapidly upon him, and, despite his need 
 of rest, kept him wakeful : the thought that he had sacrificed a human 
 life, though in self-defence, and what was to him still dearer, in defence 
 of her in whose cause he would have laid down his own a thousand 
 times, weighed heavily upon him, and he prayed long and fervently, 
 ere he lay down to sleep, for pardon of his unpremeditated guilt : his 
 conscience thus soothed, poor Edward flung himself on his bed, and 
 exhausted nature yielded to that benign influence which can alone 
 restore her — profound sleep, 
 
76 3j s a 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It took some hearty shakes by the shoulder to rouse Ned from his 
 sleep the next day, when, at rather an advanced hour, Father Flaherty 
 told him it was time to rise. Resuming his clerical disguise, he descended 
 from his dormitory, and joined the worthy father at breakfast, after 
 which they quitted the house, and proceeded towards the cathedral of 
 Notre Dame. The gigantic outward proportions of the building 
 struck Edward with amazement ; but when he passed into the interior, 
 a sense of solemn admiration made him stand still and silent before he 
 advanced many steps. 
 
 There is a reverential feeling, produced by the aspect of a large 
 gothic interior, which even long habit cannot overcome, and whose 
 first experience is almost oppressive. The cold vastness into which 
 we at once are plunged on passing the portal has a chastening effect, 
 and we pause ; the lessened light permitted through its painted 
 windows is subduing, yet enticing, from the tinted harmony it sheds. 
 The eye, raised in involuntary wonder up those lofty yet slender shafts 
 that bear the over-hanging pile above, is lost in the complex beauty 
 of the fretted roof. With slow and respectful steps, we move towards 
 the centre of the aisle ; we stand beside one of those apparently 
 slender columns, and perceive it is a ponderous mass of masonry, to 
 which the artifice of sculpture has imparted the seeming of lightness, 
 and the presence at once of beauty and power commands our homage. 
 We look through that long vista of columns, that stand like mighty 
 sentinels guarding the approach to the altar, shedding its glories of 
 gold and marble and pictured art from afar, through the open arch 
 of the elaborate screen, whose slender filagree supports, as if by 
 magic, the gigantic organ above, whose melodious peal, should it then 
 be waked, first bursting like thunder through the vaulted pile, and 
 then fading to the faintest echo through the solemn vastness, fills the 
 heart with a reverence bordering on awe, and lifts the mind above 
 this world. 
 
 With what dumb-stricken admiration did Edward first behold the 
 cathedral of Notre Dame, where the gorgeous ceremony of a high 
 mass increased his reverential wonder! Imagine a young man from the 
 remote shores of Ireland, where the humble chapel of a friary was all he 
 had ever seen in the service of that religion, whose exercise was there 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 77 
 
 and then little better than felonious ; — imagine him, for the first time, 
 entering a temple of colossal proportion and elaborate beauty, and 
 witnessing a high mass, in all the pomp of a dominant religion, with its 
 gorgeous altars, its massive wax-lights, the odour of incense flung from 
 silver censers by numerous acolytes, before the train of bishop, priests, 
 and deacons, clad in the utmost splendour of sacerdotal robes, amid the 
 organ's plaintive notes or full-toned peal, — the wail of choral voices or 
 their exulting burst, as they were subdued to the penitential spirit of 
 the Coiifiteor, or rose to the triumphant out-pouring of the Gloria in 
 excelsis — imagine this, and think with what emotion Edward knelt at 
 a high mass in Bruges! Though the service in word and act was the 
 same, yet the difference in extrinsic circumstances might well suggest 
 the internal question — " Can this be the same religion in which I was 
 reared ? Is this the poor frightened faith, which hides in holes and 
 corners in my native land ?" And then the wish arose that those who 
 sat in high places in Galway could only witness the splendour of the 
 rites which appealed so powerfully to his own weak points. His 
 passion for the lofty was flattered to its utmost bent by the " pomp 
 and circumstance" he saw before him ; and his father's apprehensions 
 of the superior " gentility" of the protestant religion were no longer 
 valid, for from that moment Ned was firm in the faith of Rome. It 
 is not saying much for our hero, that such influences held sway in a 
 cause where deeper and holier motives should operate ; but it is our 
 business to tell the truth of him, and not make him out to be either 
 wiser or better than he was. 
 
 The service being over, Edward was conducted by Father Flaherty 
 up a lofty winding stair, which led to a small chamber that seemed to be 
 cut out of the thickness of the wall, and was desired to remain there until 
 the priest should return to him. " And here is a book for you, my son," 
 added he, handing him one of prayers. " You had better occupy your 
 mind with good and holy thoughts while I am away, and chastise the 
 proud spirit of humanity, — for though I don't want to be too hard on 
 a poor fellow in distress, yet I must remind you, my son, that you 
 must not forget you killed a man yesterday." Hereupon Edward 
 expressed such contrition, and gave such manifest evidence of his 
 sense of guiltiness, that the kind-hearted priest felt more inclined to 
 comfort than to blame, and spoke words of hope to him. 
 
 " There, there, that will do now. You killed the man, 'tis true, 
 but it was in a good cause — yet there is blood on your head, no doubt ; 
 but then, if you killed him, he was a blackguard, and no loss to king 
 or country agra! so don't fret. Not but that I would put a good 
 round penance on you, if you were staying here in quiet and safety ; 
 but considering that you will have to run some risk before long, and 
 might be taken off sudden, you see, I must not let you die in your 
 
78 £ s. (I 
 
 sin, my poor boy, but must hear you make a clean breast of it, and 
 give you absolution before you face the danger of the road : so while 
 I am away, working out a little plan o'my own to get you out of the 
 town, stick to that book like a good Christian, and chastise the proud 
 spirit of humanity." 
 
 Leaving Edward with these words, the father went to make arrange- 
 ments for an escape from the town ; and an opportunity was offered 
 by a procession of The Host being about to take place through one of 
 the gates ; and he conceived the stratagem of clothing Edward in the 
 habit of an acolyte, and making him the bearer of one of the banners 
 carried on the occasion, and thus eluding the vigilance of the guards. 
 During his absence, Edward really did apply himself to the sacred 
 book, the only interruption to his holy communings being the chimes 
 of the carillon, which in the calmness of the day and the stillness of 
 the high place where he sat, far above the noise of the town, he could 
 distinctly hear. He felt it was sinful to wander from the sacred duty 
 in which he was engaged ; but as every thought of her in his mind 
 belonged more to heaven than earth, the lapse, perhaps, was pardon- 
 able. When the chime ceased, he again applied himself to the book ; 
 and his attention never wandered from the sacred page until with- 
 drawn by the reappearance of the kind padre, who came at once to 
 confess and shrive and liberate him. Of confession there needed not 
 much, for, to say truth, in knowing that he killed a fellow-creature, 
 the priest knew the greatest of Ned's human offences -, and as there 
 
 was — 
 
 " Short time for shrift," 
 
 he briefly received absolution of his sins, and was made ready for 
 *' rope or gun," as the case might be, in the gauntlet he was about to 
 run for his life. He was then habited in a white surplice to repre- 
 sent an acolyte, and bade by the father to follow him. As ih^y 
 descended the long winding stair, the soft-hearted priest often paused 
 to give Ned some fresh direction how he was to comport himself, and 
 told him to be " no ways afear'd, nor wervM," though, in truth, the 
 good father himself was infinitely more nervous about the matter than 
 Ned. On reaching the church below, the persons to form the pro- 
 cession were assembling ; and Father Flaherty, after a few minutes' 
 absence in the vestry, returned in the sacerdotal habit suited to the occa- 
 sion, and placing Edward next him, joined in the line, which, emerging 
 from the church, carried before it homage through every street. The 
 doffed hat and bended knee and downcast eye of humility showed the 
 fugitive what an admirable means it was of escaping not only inter- 
 ruption, but even observation ; and a fresh wonder was revealed to him 
 in the reverence the Romish faith obtained here. Encountering in their 
 course a handsome cortege, where stately coach and prancing steed 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 79 
 
 had place, the pageant made way, and the servants of the church held 
 their road. 
 
 At last the gate came in sight, and Father Flaherty began to exhibit 
 symptoms of anxiety, while Ned was perfectly collected. The father 
 was praying devoutly, mingling at the same time certain admonitions 
 to the fugitive ; and they were so rapidly alternated, that the good 
 father sometimes looked to Ned when his addresses were meant for 
 heaven ; and he raised his eyes to the skies, when he said something 
 appertaining to his fnend. For instance, winking at Ned, he ex- 
 claimed, " Holy Virgin, 'purisswia I pulcherrima ! — howld your banner 
 straight. Holy saints and martyrs ! — you'll be shot if you're disco- 
 vered. Mind your eye when you come to the bridge, and don't look 
 at them. — Guardian angels ! — they've no mercy — but show a bowld 
 face." 
 
 The sudden outburst of a bold strain from trumpets and drums now 
 arrested their attention ; and as they topped the middle of the bridge, 
 they beheld a military column advancing, and close upon the gate. 
 For the first time Ned felt somewhat nervous ; — to be stopped just at 
 the gate was awkward ; but his apprehensions were but momentary ; 
 for the instant the advancing troops perceived the sacred procession 
 they halted ; the serried masses filed right and left on each side of 
 the road ; and as the procession of the Host passed uninterruptedly 
 through the gate, it was met with a military salute as it progressed 
 through the opened ranks, and when it reached that portion of the 
 column where the standards were carried, the ensigns of a king were 
 lowered before the banners of the cross. 
 
80 £ s, a. 
 
 'CHAPTER X. 
 
 We must now transfer our readers to the cabin of the Seagull, 
 where, four days after his escape from Bruges, Ned was cracking an 
 after-dinner bottle of most exemplary claret with Finch, luxuriating in 
 repose and safety, rendered the more enjoyable from the fatigue and 
 dangers he had undergone in making his way to Dunkirk. These 
 fatigues and dangers, as well as his doings at Courtrai, he detailed to 
 his friend while they sipped their wine ; and the sparkling eye of the 
 skipper, as he listened to the romantic recital, showed the ardent love 
 he bore adventure. He congratulated his young friend on his having 
 " done bravely," as he said, and foreboded brightly of the future. 
 When Edward ventured a doubt of this, reminding him that Ellen 
 would not have listened a moment to him but for the danger in which 
 he stood, Finch met his doubtings with a laugh of derision. 
 
 " Tush, man ! what a young hand you are at such matters ! If she 
 meant to crush your hopes, would she have gone to the old -fat frmCs 
 house to see you — answer me that ?" 
 
 " Consider," replied Ned, " that my life being endangered on her 
 account, she came to see after my safety." 
 
 "Nonsense, I say!" returned Finch. "Your safety could have 
 been attended to by the old priest just as well, and take my word, if 
 she was angry with you, you never more would have had a sight of 
 her by her own act and will. I tell you, make money, lad ; be rich, 
 and the lady may be yours. Say no more about it for the present ; 
 you need rest, so turn in, and take no care." 
 
 The working of the windlass, and the song of the sailors, as they 
 lifted the anclior, were now heard. 
 
 " Hark !" said Finch, " they are weighing, so I must go on deck 
 now ; to-morrow we shall talk more about this — good night." 
 
 Ned prepared to turn in with good will, and as the Seagull was 
 standing out of the harbour before he got into his berth, the ripple of 
 the water along her side helped to lull him to sleep ; for sweet to all 
 who have ever known it, is the music of that sailor lullaby. When 
 he rose the next morning, the gallant boat was bounding gaily 
 over the waters, and most of the day was passed in talking of his 
 affairs to Finch, who won more and more upon Edward as the 
 intimacy increased. He could start no doubt for which Finch 
 
TREASUllE TROVE. 81 
 
 could not find a satisfactory answer ; no adverse circumstance for 
 whicli he did not at once name a countervailing expedient : there 
 seemed in him such a fund of ready contrivance for the exigences of 
 every occasion, that he passed upon Ned for a marvel of sagacity, and he 
 willingly rendered to his words that ready submission which in early 
 youth is so easily yielded to those who have a command of glib 
 language, and can adroitly make use of common-places, which pass 
 as good as new on the uninitiated. Ned felt very happy ; he glided 
 through the hours of the day as smoothly as the vSeagull through 
 the waters ; and when the black cook had completed his work in the 
 caboose, and tliat dinner was announced, he wondered how the time 
 had passed, and could scarcely believe it was so late. The table still 
 exhibited that superiority which Ned had first remarked, and 
 when, after enjoying its good cheer, it was cleared, and that he and 
 the skipper were left to themselves, he ventured to remark, that 
 either the owners of the Seagull were much more liberal than those 
 under whom he had had the chance to serve, or their trade must be far 
 superior, to afford such enjoyments — "Unless," said Ned, suddenly 
 catching at a thought, " unless you have a private fortune of your own." 
 " No fortune but what I make by the trade," answered Finch ; 
 " but then that trade is a glorious one ! and the more a man knows of it 
 the better he likes it." He then enlarged upon the subject, and while 
 discussing with his young friend seductive wines, and spirits, and 
 liqueurs, discussed also some important questions of a fiscal nature ; in 
 the course of which, all governments were shown up to Ned in the 
 light of selfish and crafty tyrannies, whose only objects were robbery 
 and oppression of the people, whose state would be too wretched 
 for endurance but for the existence of free-hearted souls like the 
 skipper, who endeavoured, by a generous and daring intervention, 
 to counteract the baneful influence of the harpies who snatched from 
 the labours of the industrious three-fourths of their honest earnings, 
 by making them pay four times the original price of an article, which 
 the skipper, in the spirit of philanthropy, was willing to supply them 
 for only twice the cost. Ned was fascinated by the glownng manner 
 in which the skipper represented the case, yet, when all was done, lie 
 could not help saying, with great simplicity, "Why, as well as I can 
 imderstand what you have been telling me, the traffic you speak of is 
 very like what they call smuggling." 
 
 " That is the name the land-sharks give it," returned the skipper ; 
 " but we call it ' free trade.' '* 
 
 " Well now, isn't it odd," said Ned, " that, often as I've heard the 
 phrase ' free trade,' I never kncAv what it meant before ?" 
 
 " Not odd at all, my lad. — You are too young to know much yet, 
 
 G 
 
82 £ S. (I. 
 
 and the more you learn in my school, the better you'll like it. 
 Besides, instead of your paying your master, your learning shall line 
 your pockets with gold, boy ; and then — ah ! I see your eye 
 brighten ! — then your heart's desire may be realized. Yes, when once 
 you command the influence of what I call the magical letters — the 
 £ S. D. — then you may ask and have the girl of your heart. But 
 even without this inducement, the romantic adventures we some- 
 times turn up — 'splood ! 'twould make a fellow of spunk a free 
 trader, for the mere sport of the thing." A commendatory slap on 
 the shoulder served for sauce to this speech ; and the bright eye of 
 the dashing skipper beamed upon Ned, as if he saw in him some 
 future hero of free trade. 
 
 Ned went to sleep that night, his head heated with wine and the 
 inflammable conversation of his friend ; but in his dreams, the glories 
 of " free trade" alwaj^s presented themselves in the shape of " smug- 
 gling," and he saw his father's honest shop, and his father's honest 
 face, and a frown upon it : he tossed and tumbled, and awoke rather 
 feverish ; but a walk upon deck in the fresh morning breeze, before 
 which the Seagull was bounding over the bright waters, cooled his 
 blood, and the activity of waking life dispelled every sad thought tlie 
 visions of sleep had created. In truth, he must have been a deter- 
 minately gloomy fellow, who could be sad on board the Seagull, for a 
 merrier set of fellows never stepped on deck than her picked crew, 
 which was chosen by the skipper himself, whose skill in selecting the 
 men suited to his purpose amounted almost to instinct. He made it a 
 rule never to have an ill-tempered man in the crew ; if he chanced to 
 make a mistake in his selection, which was rarely, he always got rid 
 of the sulker ; the consequence was, that the duty was done with a 
 spirit and heartiness which was quite beautiful. It was this same 
 quick perception of men's qualities, that made him pitch upon Ned ; 
 he had lately lost his mate, and among his crew he did not know one 
 exactly suited to fill the place ; and he fancied he saw that in Ned 
 which promised, in the service, a bold, active, and enthusiastic parti- 
 cipation, without which the daring risks of a smuggler's life could 
 never be surmounted. He was not long in proving his neophyte. 
 Ned was soon engaged in running some goods under very trying cir- 
 cumstances, and acquitted himself so well that he won the praises of tlie 
 skipper, who handed him over a purse with no contemptible number 
 of gold pieces, as his share of the night's work. Ned would have 
 refused them, but his friend was peremptory. 
 
 " The money is your rights lad ! — the owners consider that 
 short reckonings make long friends ; and after each successful turn of 
 trafHc, every man in the craft has his purse the heavier for it." 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 8;i 
 
 " Yet I have a scruple of conscience about it, somehow," said Ned. 
 "I am not quite satisfied this smuggling is right.". 
 
 " It is not right to let it he hnown^'' said Finch, — " that is the only 
 harm to avoid. Bless your innocent heart! If you but knew the 
 worshipful men ashore who are engaged in it, you would be soon 
 reconciled to the practice. I tell you, lad, the outcry and scandal 
 raised against it is only a got-up concern by those to whose interest 
 its suppression tends — those in high places — and men of sense know 
 it is so; and therefore, while they would avoid the publication and 
 penalty of their doings, nevertheless dare to do what they are con- 
 vinced is not morally wrong in itself, and brings those who have hardi- 
 hood to venture, large profits. Could you but see the smooth and 
 silky man who reaps his thousands a year from the Seagull — a sanc- 
 tified man; — goes to church three times on Sunday; — a most worship- 
 ful man on 'Change : — an upholder of church and king ; whose 
 adversary, Charles Edward, he would gladly hang — ^though he thinks it 
 no harm to get on the w^eather-side of his majesty's exchequer : — so 
 take cash and counsel, and be the richer and wiser. 
 
 Ned never had so much money in all his life at once, and there 
 is something in the chink of a purse full of gold amazingly attractive, 
 as a young fellow chucks it up and down in his hand, with the internal 
 complacent feeling of " this is mine.''^ Ned had some qualms at the 
 notion of being, after all that could be said for it, engaged in an illegal 
 trafiic ; for though he had been humbly, he had been honestly reared. 
 So far the pursuit was repugnant to the earliest lessons he had received, 
 and next, his acquired notions did not exactly chime with it — he was 
 not sure that it was genteel, and there is no doubt he would have 
 declined engaging in a contraband trade, but for the hope it held out 
 of sudden wealth, whose first instalment was in his hand. Not that 
 Ned loved money for money's sake : — we believe there are few souls 
 base enough to be actuated by this wretched motive ; but he saw in it 
 the means to realize the fond dreams in which he had dared to indulge ; 
 to fulfil aspirations that, however wild, were those which the noblest 
 spirit might entertain. And thus gold may become precious in the 
 eye of the enthusiast for the sake of what it may win. Refined in 
 the fire of love, and bearing an ethereal impress, it ranks above the 
 mints of kings and purposes of common trafiic : — it becomes the coin 
 of the realm of romance, and we may wish for its possession without 
 being sordid. 
 
 Thus Ned was fairly enlisted — the bounty-money was in his hand, 
 and he became a hearty contrabandist. Having made the first plunge, 
 having gone through the trial with eclat, the golden harvest being 
 suddenly reaped, with the increasing favour of the fascinating skipper, 
 before whose plausible words all objections melted aw^ay insensibly, 
 
 G 2 
 
84 £ 5. (L 
 
 a few months discovered him to be, as Finch anticipated, one of the 
 most ready, quick-witted, and daring followers of the " free trade." 
 He soon became mate of the Seagull, and won so fast on tlie confi- 
 dence and good-will of his chief, that the latter let him do very nearly 
 what he liked ; and to such a height did this esteem increase, that on 
 one occasion, when a severe indisposition obhged the skipper to stay 
 ashore, the craft and her cargo were entirely trusted to Ned, who 
 won fresh reputation by the skill which he displayed in the conduct 
 of the venture. 
 
 Ned's berth on board the boat was a picture of neatness, and a touch 
 of his quality might be felt from the shelves of books with which it 
 was stored. Histories of adventure, both real and fictitious, lives of 
 remarkably daring persons, romances and books of poetry abounded 
 there. A few works on navigation also, with which science Ned had 
 made it a point to become well acquainted, and instruments necessary 
 for its practice as well. All these little possessions he had ample 
 means to purchase, and had handfuls of money to squander beside in all 
 the pleasures that might tempt a young man on shore, if by such plea- 
 sures Ned could have been tempted ; — but he loved, and the poetry of 
 passion preserved him through many a trial. Besides, his main object 
 was to accumulate as much money as possible, — not that his present 
 profits, liberal as they were, would have soon realized a fortune ; but 
 they made a handsome beginning, and Finch held out the hope of soon 
 being enabled to purchase a vessel for himself, in which Ned should 
 hold a share ; and " then, my lad," he was wont to say, " then shan't 
 we have the wind in our sails ? — wait a while ; — once let us possess our 
 own craft, and a couple of years shall make us good matches for ladies 
 even as charming as yours." 
 
 In one of their runs across the North Sea, after having made a safe 
 landing of their cargo. Finch told Ned he had entered into an engage- 
 ment to remove secretly from England a couple of his countrymen, 
 who, becoming obnoxious to government, from being engaged in 
 making enlistments for foreign service in Ireland, were obliged to 
 fly ; and, dreading the vigilance of the servants of the law at the ports, 
 which were strictly watched, offered a handsome sum to be taken off 
 nt some convenient and secret place along the coast, where they might 
 embark with less risk of discovery. 
 
 " One of them I know," said Finch — " his name is O'Hara, an 
 officer of the Irish brigade. I promised to meet him at a little inn 
 that lies some miles inland, and while I am absent, you can stand out 
 and keep a good offing, away from all observation from the land, and 
 be back about the same time to-morrow, and hang about that point 
 to the westward, where I know there is a little creek will suit our 
 purpose." 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 85 
 
 All tlieir measures being preconcerted, signals agreed on, and 
 other necessary arrangements entered into, Finch doffed his sailor's 
 guise, and assuming the landsman's attire, became at once the dashing 
 looking fellow, who so won upon Ned at Hamburg. A boat was 
 lowered, which rowed the skipper to the shore, and afterwards re- 
 turned to the Seagull, which stood out from the land, while Finch 
 pursued his course to the appointed inn to meet the fugitives, who so 
 anxiously, sought the shelter of his friendly vessel. A walk of some 
 two or three miles brought him to a farm house, where, by the offer 
 of a guinea, he obtained the loan of the farmer's horse for the next 
 twenty -four hours. The good man proceeded at once to the stable 
 to saddle his nag, which was soon ready for the road. Finch, as he 
 was going to mount, addressed the farmer, saying, " By-the-bye, my 
 friend, as you know nothing of me, had I not better leave you a 
 deposit for the value of your horse ?" 
 
 " Na, na," said the farmer, " yow'll bring un back, I's not aveard." 
 
 Finch was pleased with this exhibition of good faith, arising from 
 an honest nature which could not suspect guile in another ; but wil- 
 ling to pursue his strain of doubt regarding himself a little farther, he 
 continued, " How do you know I wont steal your horse, and that 
 you'll never set eyes on me again ?" 
 
 " JVhoi" said the blunt fellow, with a faint gleam of fun lighting 
 up his habitually quiet eye, and casting a glance at Finch from top 
 to toe, " whatever mischief yow'll be after, I don't think it's a stealing 
 off a 'orse yow'll be 'anged vur." 
 
 Finch laughed at the rejoinder, and applied his heel to the side of 
 his steed with a galliard air, as if he expected " Dobbin " was to prance 
 off in a corresponding manner, but as his heel was unarmed, (for spurs 
 are not articles in much requisition on board ship, though we have 
 heard of "horse marines,") Dobbin only grunted, and stirred not 
 a peg. 
 
 The farmer had the laugh against Finch once more, and said, 
 " Ah — yow beant up to our honest country ways ; that be an honest 
 beast yow're a ridin on ; he waunt do nothin' onless he be convinced 
 it's roight, and I'll give yow an argument for un." So saying, he 
 went into the house and returned with a heavy thong-whip, which, 
 before presenting to Finch, he cracked loudly, and Dobbin pricked 
 up his ears directly. 
 
 " I towld 'e so," said the farmer, chuckling, " I towld 'e he'd listen 
 to reason." 
 
 Handing the whip to the rider with these words, the latter was not 
 idle in reasoning Dobbin into a trot, though it cannot be denied 
 that Finch was very much shaken in his argument ; however, on they 
 went wrangling over ten miles of ground, both right glad when the 
 
80 £ s, cL 
 
 discussion was over. Calling for the hostler, and giving the beast 
 into his charge with a good-natured admonition to take good care of 
 liim, Finch entered the comfortable little inn, and, seeing the door of a 
 snug parlour open, he at once took possession, and ringing a email 
 bell that stood on a table, a plump and merry -looking girl answered 
 the summons. 
 
 It is an established rule in travelling, that a bar-maid is fair game 
 for flirting ; indeed it would seem, that there is something in the 
 genus to inspire the propensity; for the stupidest fellows, who cannot 
 exchange a word of the most distant pleasantry with a lady, are 
 elevated into wits at the sight of a bar-maid. 
 
 Finch was the sort of man who does as the world does, so, just to 
 avoid being remarkable, he chucked the buxom girl under the chin, 
 swore she was very pretty, asked her name, and what he could have 
 for supper. 
 
 "Jenny, please your worship, and chickens." 
 
 " Very]^good, Jenny," replied Finch ; " I'll have the chickens first, 
 if you please — and Jenny !'* 
 
 " Yes, your worship." 
 
 " Send me Boots here, with a boot-jack and slippers." 
 
 " Yes, your worship," and Jenny vanished ; but Finch heard her 
 merry clear voice in the house, calling for Ralph to "go to the room 
 and take boots." She came bustling backward and forward preparing 
 the table, and never made an entrance or exit without some inter- 
 change of merry talk with Finch, who inquired every time when 
 Boots would make his appearance. At last, after the fifth asking, 
 when Jenny was bustling out of the room Finch called her back, and 
 requested her to put her " pretty little foot " on the toe of his boot, 
 and he would do without the lazy, good-for-nothing fellow, who 
 seemed determined never to come. Jenny obeyed. And as she 
 stood close to Finch, he took occasion to lean on her for support, 
 and then affecting to lose his balance caught her hand to save himself 
 from falling, declaring he was the most awkward fellow in the world, 
 and still keeping hold of her fingers, which if he had not scjucezed he 
 certainly must have tumbled to the ground. 
 
 " Ha' done ! do !" said Jenny. 
 
 '■ My dear, this confounded boot is so tight," and he clung closer to 
 her for support. 
 
 At the moment a great lout, bearing a boot-jack under his arm and 
 slippers in his hand, entered the room, and exclaimed, " 'Ere be the 
 boot-jack, your worship." 
 
 " Thank you," said Finch, " but I prefer the hoot Jenny — you're 
 not wanted." 
 
 Boots f^tared, and left the room, and after a great many trials Finch 
 
.NS 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^ ay;^^' .::^rJc^oi^'/^y:' 
 
k 
 
TllEASUllE TROVE. 87 
 
 contrived to get off his boots, and Jenny managed to get out of the 
 room, protesting his worship was the funniest roisterer she ever 
 met. 
 
 Finch was joined at supper by a gentleman who rode over to the 
 inn to inquire for him. The visitor was brother-in-law to O'Hara, 
 whose sister had come over to England to see him in safety out 
 of the country ; and whose agency, with that of her husband, was 
 of importance to one, who being watched, could not conduct his 
 measures of escape in person without imminent risk. It was agreed 
 that O'Hara and his companion in flight should join Finch at dinner 
 at the inn the next day, and the visitor, after a hasty supper, departed, 
 for he had far to ride that night. 
 
 The next day, accordingly, the entire party assembled at the little 
 inn, and O'Hara, after a hearty salutation of Finch, introduced to 
 him the friend, who was going with him to join the Irish Brigade in 
 Flanders, " to strike," as O'Hara said, "a blow for the rightful king." 
 O'Hara's sister and her husband were with them, and there was 
 evident effort on all sides not to be sad — there was even a forced 
 merriment among them. O'Hara's handsome companion seemed to be 
 most unconcerned, (except Finch,) and showed his fine white teeth in 
 many a laugh, as joke or repartee passed round the board. It was 
 the woman whose smiles would have given most pain to an acute 
 observer. There, beneath an outward show of much cheerfulness, the 
 torture of an aching heart might be seen. While she openly expressed 
 thankfulness that her brother was so near the moment of escape, it 
 was plain that the thought of parting was little less painful than the 
 thought of death ; but she went through her task heroically ; — with 
 that most difficult of all heroism, that passive endurance of pain, in 
 which the gentle fibre of woman puts the stronger nature of man to 
 :-hame. She never winced for a moment ; nay, she even joined the 
 iiiirth, for mirthful they were, at least in seeming. Yes, they laughed — 
 they even sang. Finch dashed off snatches about fair winds and flowing 
 sails ; O'Hara, like a soldier, did something in the " love, war, and 
 wine," fashion ; and to"please the skipper, who professed an extravagant 
 admiration of Irish melodies, the gentlewoman raised her voice in 
 song, while her heart was steeped in sadness. 
 
 Oh, how hollow was all this — what a mockery — how false I what a 
 deceitful thing is the human heart ! Not only does it try to deceive 
 others, but how often does it deceive itself ! 
 
 The first check to the cheerful aspect of the party, was Finch 
 looking atliis watch, and saying, " 'Time and tide wait for no man.' 
 We must soon be at the shore ;" and with good taste, wishing to 
 leave the party alone at the last moment, he said, he would go order 
 the horses to be got ready, and left the room ; O'Hara's companion 
 
88 £ .V. (L 
 
 followed the example, and on reaching the stable-yard, was struck 
 with the sudden change in Finch's aspect ; his eyes being fixed 
 with an expression of much anxiety towards the horizon that lay 
 seaward. In a moment he spoke. " Go back to your friends," said he, 
 " and hurry them — I would we were afloat — the weather looks threaten- 
 ing, and we are on a bad coast." 
 
 In the meantime, the sister and her husband were in the room 
 with O'Hara, interchanging those last words of parting, which make 
 parting so precious and so painful, — impressing on each other the 
 many fond remembrances which, hurried over in a moment, are 
 remembered through our lives ; those half-uttered wishes that we 
 understand before they are half spoken, and are replied to by a glance ; 
 or some promise exacted, which is better ratified by a pressure of the 
 hand, than by the solemnity of an oath. In this endearing inter- 
 course were they engaged, as their friend returned, to deliver Finch's 
 message. O'Hara's sister grew pale at the words. 
 
 " Remember, Honora," said her brother, taking her hand gently, 
 *' remember your promise — you told me you would behave like a 
 soldier's sister." 
 
 *• And have I not kept my word, Charles ?" she answered, gently. 
 " You have, indeed ; but will you do one thing more for me ?" 
 " Name it." 
 
 " You will think my request foolish — absurdly weak ; but you 
 know there is another beside you vevT/ dear to me — and — " 
 " Yes ; what shall I say to her ?" 
 
 " All that is kind at all times. But 'tis not that I would ask" — 
 *' What then ? do tell me." 
 
 " It seems a childish weakness — at such a time as this it appears 
 like trifling — but there is one song I wish you would sing me before 
 I leave you — that one I love so dearly .'" said O'Hara, with more of 
 sadness in his manner tlian he had yet betrayed. 
 
 " Do not ask it, Charles ; it is more than you can bear — more than 
 either of us can — remember how much it touched us both last night, 
 how much more will it on this — when we are to part for so long a 
 time." 
 
 "Soon to return, I hope, in triumph, sister," he exclaimed with 
 energy ; " but I would hear that song once more before I part." 
 " It will make you too sad." 
 
 " No, no — sing to me — pray do ! Let me take away that song and 
 story of my native land fresh upon my ear — my outpmrd car. In my 
 memory it will dwell for ever." 
 
 Nerving herself to the utmost, his sister raised her voice, rendered 
 more touching by tlie emotion against which she did her best to 
 struggle, but which, nevertheless, tinged the strain with a peculiar 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 89 
 
 air of sadness. Wedded to the melody were these simple lines whieli 
 told the tale of many a broken heart in Ireland, a tale of whose 
 truth O'Hara himself was but too painfully conscious. 
 
 I. 
 
 The flower of the valley was Mary 7na chrcc. 
 Her smiles all bewitching were lovely to see, 
 The bees round her humming, when summer was gone, 
 When the roses were fled — might take her lip for one. 
 Her laugh it was music — her breath it Avas balm ; 
 Her heart, like the lake, was as pure and as calm, 
 Till love o'er it came, like a breeze o'er the sea. 
 And made the heart heave of sweet Mary ma chree. 
 
 II. 
 
 She loved — and she wept ; for was gladness e'er known 
 To dwell in the bosom that Love makes his own ? 
 His joys are but moments — his griefs are for years. 
 He comes all in smiles — but he leaves all in tears. 
 Her lover was gone — 
 
 Here the voice of the singer, whose eyes betrayed how deeply the 
 subject of the song and the circumstances of the hour aiFected her, 
 began to falter, but by a great effort she controlled her emotion, and 
 continued — 
 
 Her lover was gone to a far distant laud, 
 And Mary, in sadness, would pace the lone strand ; 
 And tearfully gaze o'er the dark-rolling sea, 
 That parted her soldier from Mary via chrce. 
 
 Tiie soldier's head drooped as the stanza stole to its conclusion, and 
 at the last line he hid his face in his hand, while the voice of the 
 singer, no longer supported by the artificial exertion of sustaining the 
 strain, was audible in stifled sobs. 
 
 O'Hara, da hing the gathering mist from his eye, wrung the hand 
 of the beloved singer with convulsive fervour, and said, " God bless 
 you — I am ready to go now." 
 
 Scarcely had he spoken, when a rapid knock at the door and Finch's 
 voice outside were heard. He was invited to enter, and, on opening 
 the door, he said, with more of energy in his manner than lie was 
 usually betrayed into, ^^ Pray, gentlemen, delay no longer — I like the 
 look of the weather less and less every moment, and it behoves us to 
 be off the coast without delay ; as it is, we must ride hard for it," 
 
90 £ S. (I 
 
 O'Hara turned to his sister— one glance passed between them. Oh, 
 how much of affection and agony were mingled in that look I his lip 
 was pale and slightly quivered j he did not dare to say more than 
 a parting Irish blessing as he folded his sister for the last time to 
 his heart, and, after uttering that beautiful benison of, " God he with 
 you" he yielded her to the arms of her husband, on whose shoulder 
 she drooped her head as her beloved brother left the room. Nestling 
 to her husband's heart, her eager ear watched for every sound ; — she 
 heard the hurried tread of the parties leaving the inn — in another 
 minute the clatter of horses' feet told they were speeding to the shore, 
 and then, the struggling emotions that had been so long pent up in 
 her bosom had vent, and the little parlour of the inn, that so lately 
 rang with song and laughter, echoed to the deep sobs of a bursting 
 heart. 
 
 The husband sought not to interrupt her sorrow, but permitted its 
 first outpouring to have vent ere he attempted to soothe. Then 
 gently pressing her to his heart he spoke words of comfort, and with 
 kind patience awaited her recovery from the prostration attendant on 
 the violence of her emotion. Her head still rested on his breast, and 
 thus for a long time she wept in silence — till suddenly she started 
 up, as the heavy sough of the wind swept past the window where 
 she sat, and shook it in its frame. For the first time she became 
 conscious a storm was rising, and she listened to her husband's wish 
 that they should leave the inn at once, and seek the retreat whence they 
 came, before the weather should break. Their horses were soon at 
 the door ; and when the acclivity of a neighbouring hill enabled 
 her to get a glimpse of the sea and the threatening sky that 
 hung above it, her tears ceased, for the chill of fear froze the 
 fountain of sorrow. Strange operation of our passions ! Had it 
 been a calm, she would have wept throughout her homeward way — 
 tears would have dimmed her sight to the soft sunshine, which had 
 indicated safety ; but a dry eye was bent on the lowering elements 
 which threatened danger; and sorrowing for the past, gave place 
 to fears for the future. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. Di 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Other eyes as well as those on shore were cast about, anxiously 
 regarding the prognostics of the weather, and raising no favourable 
 augury from the aspect of the darkening horizon, which seemed closing 
 in on all sides, like some mighty net, which soon should make its sweep 
 upon the waters, and gather within its deadly coil shattered barks 
 and shipwrecked men. Ned had stood in for the land, according 
 to his orders, before the lowering sky had given warning of the 
 approaching storm ; or, with such a coast under his lee, he would 
 not have run the pretty Seagull into such a point of danger ; and 
 would have trusted to Finch's judgment for knowing why he did not, 
 and acquitting him of blame for disobedience of orders. But there he 
 was, as fortune would have it, and he should make the best of it. 
 Already the wind had so increased as to oblige the topmasts to be 
 struck, and sail taken in ; and, that not a moment might be lost 
 in getting Finch on board, Ned despatched a boat to the creek 
 before the appointed time, and beat oif and on as near the point as 
 prudence would permit. Alternately looking to the weather and the 
 .shore, to watch the increase of evil omens on one side, or the signal 
 that should announce Finch's arrival on the other, Ned paced the 
 deck of the Seagull impatiently, and passed at every turn an ex- 
 perienced mariner, who had never quitted the same place for nearly 
 lialf an hour, and leaning over the bulwark, with his weather-beaten 
 cheek resting on his sinewy hand, kept eyeing the weather with a 
 steady gaze, as if he looked upon an enemy, and was measuring the 
 strength with which he soon should have to contend. 
 
 Ned paused as he reached the mariner on his next turn, and said, 
 " Dirty weather, Mitchell.'* 
 
 " As ever I see," was the curt answer of the man, who still kept his 
 gaze fixed on the point he had been so long observing. 
 
 " And the change so sudden too — ■" 
 
 *' Can't say I liked the looks o' the morning, sir." 
 
 " I wish you had told me so." 
 
 " Not my business, sir," replied he ; "besides, I never likes croaking; 
 I never know'd it lucky yet — them as looks out for squalls is the first 
 to catch 'em ; they're bad enough when they conies without invitin' 
 pf 'em, as I think growling often does." 
 
92 £ s, (L 
 
 '• Do you tliiiik I was wrong in standing so far in ?" inquired Ned, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Can't say you was, sir; for, as you say, the change ivas sudden for 
 sartin, and the weather deceitful— besides, there was the skipper's 
 order." 
 
 " True," said Ned ; " but as the craft was in my care, I should be 
 sorry to have run her blindly into danger." 
 
 " No, no, sir ; don't you think that ; the weather was deceitful, 
 that's sartin, and might deceive an older seaman than you ; for I will 
 say, Mr. Fitzgerald, you are, for your years, about as good as ever 
 I see. You'll excuse me for saying so to your face ; but it's true, and 
 I wouldn't only you was a blaming of yourself. But as you have 
 hailed me on this here matter, I would recommend another reef taken 
 in, sir." 
 
 " She carries what is on her well, Mitchell ; doesn't she ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, for the present, and maybe for the next half hour ; but 
 remember, six hands are away in the boat, and we mayn't find it so 
 easy by and by to take in canvass, sir, if it comes to blow as hard as 
 I expect before they come back." 
 
 Mitchell's advice was acted upon, and, as it proved, most wisely, for 
 every ten minutes increased the violence of the wind, which howled 
 louder and louder through the shrouds ; the sea tumbled in more 
 heavily, and the increasing line of surf along the shore gave rise to the 
 conjecture that the boat would find it impossible to put back to the 
 vessel. Ned kept a sharp look out to the land with his glass, which 
 he was forced to wipe from time to time, so thickly was the spray 
 fiying about. 
 
 *' If they do not appear in five minutes more," said Ned, " it is 
 impossible they can put through that surf, and after waiting that time 
 I will put out to sea." 
 
 " I would, sir," said Mitchell ; " for it Avill be a foul night, and a foul 
 coast under our lee, and it will be as much as we can do, as it is, to 
 Aveather the head ; thof, if there be a thing that swims can do it, the 
 Seagull can." 
 
 " Oh, we are safe enough yet, Mitchell." 
 
 *' Yes — I don't say we are not, sir ; but we've nothing to spare, 
 I reckon." 
 
 The next i\\e minutes were anxiously passed in watching the coast, 
 and just as they were on the point of expiring, a black speck emerged 
 from out of the fringe of foam that whitened the whole shore ; and, 
 riding over the white crests of the waves that rolled in with increasing 
 violence every moment, the bold boat was seen putting her head to 
 the storm, and pulling gallantly against it. How anxiously Ned 
 watched them! Calling Mitchell to his side, he gave him the glass, 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 93 
 
 and said, he feared they would never be able to reach the Seagull with 
 such a sea and tide making against them. '• We must run in a little 
 farther, Mitchell." 
 
 " Wait awhile, sir," said the old seaman ; " don't be in a hurry, 
 they may make better way when they get more clear of the shore, and 
 if we go in farther, we shall never weather the point to the south- 
 ward." 
 
 " But we can't let them be lost before our eyes." 
 
 " Sartinly not, sir ; we must all sink or swim together." 
 
 " If we cannot make sail, could we not ride it out at our anchors ?" 
 
 " Ah, master !" said Mitchell, " I know what's a comin', and iron 
 was never forged, nor hemp twisted, that would hold a ship this 
 night." 
 
 As he spoke they saw a flash from the boat. 
 
 " 'Tis a signal, they cannot make way to us," said Ned ; " we must 
 run down to them." 
 
 " Then we shall all have a squeak for it," said Mitchell. 
 
 The way that six ctout rowers could not make was soon skimmed 
 over by the Seagull, that flew through the water before the storm 
 which gathered thicker and faster every moment. Sweeping swiftly 
 towards the boat, she approached it as near as safety would permit. 
 '• 'Bout ship !" shouted Ned to Mitchell, who had gone astern. 
 
 Ecwn went the helm, and the Seagull, turning her head gallantly 
 to the storm, swung up into the Avind, leaving the boat but a few oar 
 strokes undsr her lee. 
 
 It was a service of danger to get on board with such a sea running, 
 — stout oars and lusty sinews bent to the work — a rope was hove from 
 the Seagull and caught — 
 
 " Lay fast hold of that rope when you spring,'' said Finch to O'Hara. 
 " Steady now ! — wait till the boat lifts close to the ship's side, and lose 
 not that moment to jump on board." 
 
 It was done, and in safety by O'Hara, and the next instant down 
 swept the boat into the trough of the foaming sea. Again she lifted, 
 and O'Hara's companion, without waiting for the rope, seized the 
 favourable opportunity to spring to the chains, where Ned himself was 
 standing to assist in getting the unpractised strangers aboard. Less lucky 
 than O'Hara, the bold stranger slipped his foot, as he sprang, and 
 though he caught the shrouds with one hand, the pitching of the 
 vessel, and his own impaired equilibrium, were swinging him back 
 again into the hissing surge below, but that the powerful grasp of 
 Ned recovered him, and in another instant he was standing in safety 
 on the deck, and Ned beheld in the man whose life he had saved 
 3'oung Kirwan. 
 
 Even in that instant of commotion and of peril, the thought that 
 
94 £ .9. cl. 
 
 Kirwan was going where Ellen was, brought with it a pang to Edward's 
 bosom, that suspended all other considerations, and it was only the 
 voice of Finch, who had now sprung to the deck, shouting to him and 
 giving orders, that recalled him to the business of the moment. 
 
 After issuing some few prompt orders, placing Mitchell at the helm, 
 and seeing the craft beating out to sea, as close to the wind as she 
 could run, Finch went below to rid himself of his landsman's guise, 
 and assume a habit fitter for the rough work of the night he should 
 have to go through. He took down O'Hara and Kirwan with him, 
 requesting them to remain below, as they would not only be exposed 
 to unnecessary danger and discomfort on deck, but be in the way of 
 those whose exertions were but too needful and urgent that night to 
 bear interruption ; " for I will not conceal from you, gentlemen," said 
 Finch, " that we have an anxious night before us ; the weather 
 threatens to be worse even than it is, and we have a bad coast under 
 our lee." Finch returned to the deck immediately, where an unpro- 
 mising gloom sat on every seaman's brow, as they looked towards the 
 dreaded headland that was now barely perceptible in the distance ; for 
 the evening was suddenly overshadowed by the storm, and premature 
 night settling over the sea, added fresh horror to a scene abeady 
 sufficiently appalling. They soon lost sight of any land-mark, and 
 swept through the boiling surge by the guidance only of their compass. 
 The gale was rising now to a perfect hurricane, and the increasing 
 turbulence of the sea made every timber, plank, and spar of the 
 Seagull ** complain" as she strained, even under her diminished 
 canvass, through the fierce elementary commotion which she faced so 
 gallantly; riding up the overhanging waves that threatened to 
 engulf her, and dashing back their fierce assaults from her bows, as 
 a lion flings the dogs of the hunter from his crest. 
 
 An intervening bank lay between her and the headland which was 
 the ultimate danger, and this more immediate peril became a source of 
 anxiety as they approached it. When a calculation of their run 
 induced them to believe they were in its neighbourhood, the flash of a 
 gun a-head was observed, and every eye was strained to watch for a 
 repetition of the signal of distress, for such it was undoubtedly. At 
 the expiration of a minute it recurred, and Finch, as he saw it, 
 exclaimed to Ned, who stood beside him, " We are all right yet ! — the 
 flash was on our lee bow — and see 'tis a large vessel — it can be but 
 the tail of the bank we are near, and with our light draught of water 
 we shall pass it in safety." 
 
 " With such a heavy sea running we might strike," said Ned. 
 
 "We shall soon know," replied Finch, "and escape at least the 
 pain of suspense." 
 
 Again the flash broke through the gloom ; and it was almost on 
 their beam. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 93 
 
 " Huzza !" cried Fincli, " the bank is passed !" He walked amongst 
 the crew, and cheered them by remarking, so much of their danger 
 was over, and expressed the fullest hope they should weather the head 
 yet. 
 
 Another 'signal of distress flashed from the stranded ship, which 
 was now astern of them ; and it was an unhappy response to Finch's 
 speech of encouragment ; for it is enough to shake the nerve of the 
 stoutest, when, at the mercy of the tempest, you witness' one of 
 the fatalities of which you yourself may be the next victim. Yet 
 boldly and unflinchingly the gallant crew of the Seagull did their duty 
 through the darkness and peril of the night ; with that seaman-like 
 skill, and heart of daring, that can best elude or readiest meet danger : 
 M'hich gives security in the tempest, and victory in the battle. 
 
 On sweeps the Seagull ! — the darkness grows denser! — the hurricane 
 grows fiercer ! Scarcely can the speaking trumpet carry Finch's 
 orders to his men, through the roaring of the wind. Higher rise the 
 watery mountains, deeper rushes the boat down the yawning gulf 
 before her ; heavier is the buifet of each sea that smites her, and 
 makes her tremble throughout from stem to stern ; groaning at the 
 instant she receives the shock, and then as she writhes with heavy 
 pitching over each billow, the straining of her timbers producing 
 plaintive sounds, like the painful whine of some living thing. Well 
 may she complain, for the lash of the tempest is upon her ! She bounds 
 under each blow — she flies — but the tempest is merciless, and lashes 
 more and more, and madly and blindly she rushes onward through the 
 darkness of that terrific night ! 
 
 Land as well as sea bore the marks of that memorable visitation; cattle 
 were killed, and trees torn up by the roots : rivers burst their bounds, 
 and the gathered produce of industry was swept away ; the inundations 
 rendered roads impassable, and many bridges yielded to the pressure 
 of the streams they spanned. Few were the sleepers in London that 
 night, for terror kept them wakeful ; — houses were unroofed and 
 chimneys blown down, and loss of life and limb were amongst the 
 accumulated misfortunes of that dreadful storm. Every hour 
 brought tidings of the havoc made amongst the shipping ; the shores 
 were covered with wrecks, and many a merchant who held high his 
 head on 'Change, drooped it under the ruin which the tempest made. 
 
 But while there was individual wail for jirivate loss, and much of 
 public lament too, for tliis sweeping destruction of national property, 
 still it was overpowered by the rejoicing which later news created. 
 The tempest had utterly scattered and demolished the threatening 
 
90 i^ s, d. 
 
 navy which had been preparing, at such an enormous cost to France, 
 for the invasion of EngUmd. Her marine had for the present received 
 a blow which must require a hu'ge amount of time and treasure to 
 repair, and the house of Guelphs at easier on its newly acquired throne. 
 The loyalists had further cause for rejoicing. Anson had returned 
 from his voyage round the world. His ship, the Centurion, had 
 happily made her port, before the tempest had burst, and had brought 
 back from the plundered possessions and ships of Spain a larger 
 amount of treasure than had ever hitherto been taken. 
 
 The name of Anson was in every mouth. He had returned not 
 only with the reputation of an able circumnavigator, but the glory of 
 a conqueror. If the grumblers made long faces at the loss which 
 had fallen on the merchant interest, the upholders of things as tliey 
 were answered that the coffers of the Bank would be filled with 
 Spanish gold and silver ; and the treasure, immense as it was, was 
 magnified by the ever-exaggerating voice of rumour. If, on the one 
 hand, the destruction of our shipping was lamented, the triumphant 
 reply was, that the navy of France was annihilated. 
 
 But while joy-bells rang, and public feasting was held, the bitter 
 wail of those whom that tempest had bereaved made mournful many 
 a house in England. The noisy triumph of the hour soon passed ; Avhile 
 the low wail of sorrow w^as heard for many a day. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 97 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A FEW days after the dreadful storm we have recorded, a certain 
 merchant sat in a dark little counting-house in the city of London, 
 anxiously looking over his books. He was a staid looking man, some- 
 what beyond middle age ; whose thin lips, small eyes, scant hair, and 
 low forehead, bespoke a poverty of nature ; and the pinched cut of 
 his snuff-coloured garments accorded well with the character of his 
 countenance. His spare neckcloth was tied simply, and smoothed 
 down in a plain fall in front, without the least particle of border, — an 
 excess in which Mister Spiggles did not indulge even on a gala day. 
 Snuff he did indulge in, — or it should rather be said he took^ for it was 
 not for indulgence he used it, but merely to give him the opportunity, 
 when he was asked a question which he did not like to answer hastily, 
 of taking out his box, tapping it leisurely, dipping his fingers into it 
 slowly, and making three solemn applications of his hand to his nose, 
 that he might thereby gain time to answer the aforesaid question in a 
 manner the most advantageous to himself. He was sparing of every 
 thing — even his word^— though they were worth nothing, unless they 
 were written, and this, it would seem, was his own opinion, from the 
 fact that he was quite regardless or forgetful of them himself , unless 
 the inexorable "black and white" held him bound, or refreshed his 
 memory. 
 
 Mr. Spiggles was consulting his books after the " terrible night," to 
 see what amount of risks he had on the water, when a thrifty neigh- 
 bour, as fond of money as himself, entered the counting-house. After 
 the exchange of formal salutations between them. Mister Gripps re- 
 marked the sad visage of his neighbour. 
 
 " Ay, brother Gripps, and well may my visage be saddened as I 
 look over the sums that I have trusted to the winds and the waves, 
 which, mayhap ere now, have dispossessed me of the same." 
 
 " And yet, methinks," returned Gripps, "you should rejoice rather 
 that so much of thy ventures have come to port, when such a many of 
 thy neighbours have been despoiled by the tempest." 
 
 " Thanks to Providence, truly, friend Gripps, lam a favoured man, 
 doubtless, but still much is abroad. Yet, His will be done, — ' the 
 Lord chasteneth whom he loveth,' and these visitations may be for our 
 good; for, alas ! not only hath the tempest of the winds and the waves 
 
 H 
 
98 A S. d, 
 
 smitten us heavily, but, alas ! the internal tempests of the factious and 
 disaffected threaten us full sore." 
 
 " Verily !" said Gripps, " the adherents of the scarlet one waxeth 
 bold : only think, as I passed by the Belle Sauvage just now, there 
 was much ado about another discovery made of arms for the Papists." 
 
 " Have they seized those concerned therein ?" 
 
 "No," said Gripps; " they know that a chest of basket-hilted swords 
 and a cask of skull-caps hath arrived from Birmingham, and were on 
 the road into Dorsetshire, and them have they seized." 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Spiggles, devoutly, " would they could seize those 
 who sent and those who were to receive : what matter for the arms in 
 comparison with the hands that were to wield them, — of the skull-caps, 
 with the Papist-heads they were to cover ; would they were over 
 Temple-bar for ornaments ! ' 
 
 "But still it is well," answered Gripps, " to keep the arms from the 
 hands of the ungodly, that would work evil in the land." 
 
 " Truly, brother Gripps." 
 
 " And the nets of the godly are compassing the knaves round about. 
 Just now have I seen two Irish rebels, in the pay of France, taken to 
 Newgate. They were cast upon the coast by the hand of Providence, 
 in the late storm, and were then fain to endeavour to escape, in the 
 packet from Harwich, into Holland ; but the king's servants, who 
 watch the ports narrowly, seized them there, and they were sent up by 
 order of my Lord Carteret, under care of two messengers." 
 
 "Heaven be praised!" piously ejaculated Spiggles; "these Papists 
 would devour us with good will, but Heaven favours the godly and the 
 righteous ; — ^tlie church and the state are under especial care from on 
 high — yea, from above! But how heard you all this, brother Gripps?" 
 
 " From my friend, Alderman Spiers, who looketh for news and sal- 
 vation, as thou knowest : he told me, moreover, it was a smuggling 
 ship that cast them up, as pieces of her wreck which floated ashore did 
 betoken." 
 
 "Ah! the vile and ungodly ones, that would defraud the king's reve- 
 nue," said Spiggles; "Heaven be praised, they are smitten as with a rod!" 
 
 " A well-known and dangerous ship was the same," added Gripps. 
 
 " Heaven be praised !" again ejaculated Spiggles. 
 
 " Well known for her malpractices, though they never could take 
 her." 
 
 " But the storm encompassed her round about as with a net," said 
 Spiggles ; " the finger of Providence pointed her out for destruction ; 
 praised be His name for smiting the ungodly !" 
 
 " She was entitled the * Seagull,' added Gripps. 
 
 "The 'Seagull?'" involuntarily echoed Spiggles, — looking more 
 pinched and miserable than before. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 99 
 
 *' Yes, the ' Seagull' — dost know anything of her ?" 
 
 Mister Spiggles began to take snuff, and after his usual manoeuvres 
 answered, " Why, yes — I think— as well as I can remember, I have — 
 that is, — 'tis like a dream to me — " 
 
 " "Well, Heaven be praised, she is a wreck at last," said Gripps — 
 " what can honest dealers like me do, while such rogues are let to live ?" 
 
 " True, neighbour — true," answered Spiggles, with a long-drawn 
 sigh. 
 
 " Art not well, neighbour ? " inquired Gripps, observing the in- 
 creasing pallor of his friend. 
 
 " To say truth, brother, I am but ill at ease since this storm ; — 
 I have not only my own proper risks at sea, but much of my money is 
 out on bottomry, and the borrowers are not men of substance, so that 
 if the ships reach not their port, my loans are in jeopardy." 
 
 A lank-haired clerk now entered the counting-house, and whispered 
 to his master, who grew paler than before, and telling his neighbour a 
 person on private business sought an interview, Gripps departed, and 
 to his shuffling step of departure, succeeded the firm tread of the ap- 
 proaching visitor, who soon stood before the pallid Spiggles, in the 
 person of Hudson Finch. 
 
 Neither spoke a word for some time, for both were startled at the 
 other's appearance. The gallant skipper had been used to enter with 
 a light and dashing air, and as far as a smile could take a liberty with 
 the parchment features of Spiggles, it did, to welcome the man who 
 was a valuable friend ; but now both looked haggard ; a gloom and 
 anxiety were on Finch's brow, where brightness and daring were wont 
 to sit, and his usually trim attire was changed for the coarsest guise 
 of a storm-beaten sailor. Spiggles was the first to speak. — " It is true, 
 then ?" said he. 
 
 " What is true ?" returned Finch. 
 
 " The * Seagull' " said the merchant. 
 
 " What of her ?" said the skipper. 
 
 " Is lost," faltered Spiggles. 
 
 " Yes," said Finch, sadly, — " Do you read it in my face ?" 
 
 " I heard it," said Spiggles. 
 
 " Zounds! but ill news speeds apace," returned Finch. " How did 
 you hear it ?" 
 
 Mister Spiggles had again recourse to his snuff-box, and the im- 
 patience of Finch in driving new questions at him before the pre- 
 ceding one was answered, gave the cautious merchant additional 
 time to treat the headlong seaman's inquiries as he pleased. After 
 some farther conversation, Spiggles began a long lament over the 
 amount of his loss, but was suddenly cut short by Finch. 
 
 "Hang the money!" cried he — "It is not that loss I mind — of 
 
 h2 
 
ICO £ s. d. 
 
 money there is plenty more to be had ; it is not the money, but the 
 Ijoat I lament — there never was such a beauty swam the sea. Other 
 craft we can buy, but never such another as the pretty Seagull." 
 He said this with an expression of grief befitting the loss of a beloved 
 friend. 
 
 " Captain Finch," replied the merchant coldly, " I shall never have 
 such another vessel at alV^ 
 
 " What ? " exclaimed Finch, eyeing him sharply. " You don't 
 mean to say you are going to give up so thriving a trade?" 
 
 "Even so, Captain Finch. It hath pleased Providence to open 
 mine eyes to mine iniquities," cried Spiggles, with a sniffling whine, 
 " and I will wash myself from my abominations." 
 
 " That is as much as to say, you are so rich you don't want any 
 more," said Finch. 
 
 " Nay," said Spiggles, "I am not a rich man — it is the inward yearning 
 after righteousness." 
 
 " Well, my good sir," said Finch, cutting short his cant, " I neither 
 want to pry into your accounts, earthly or heavenly, but as I have 
 been a useful friend to you, I hope you don't mean to turn me adrift 
 now, when your own turn is served ; and if you intend to abjure the 
 traffic, I hope you will give me the opportunity of repairing my 
 present mishap, by getting afloat again." 
 
 " Your skill is too well known. Captain, to let you want for em- 
 ployment." 
 
 *' It is rather a bad introduction to a new employer, though," said 
 Finch, "to say, * Sir, I have just lost one craft, will you give me 
 charge of another? ' — no — that won't do. I don't want you. Mister Spig- 
 gles, to have any thing to answer for in a new venture, if your conscience 
 is against it ; but, as I have been a faithful and profitable servant to 
 you, I only ask you to lend me a couple of thousand pounds, to put 
 me afloat handsomely again, and I will repay you, with interest, within 
 a year." 
 
 Spiggles opened his little eyes as wide as they could open, at the 
 mention of two thousand pounds, and assured Finch he had not the 
 money, nor a tenth part of it at command. 
 
 A mingled expression of indignation and contempt crossed Finch's 
 countenance, as he said, " That is, in other words, you rvon^t" 
 
 " CarCt, Captain." 
 
 "Fudge!" cried Finch. "You talk of conscience ; how can you 
 reconcile, I say, to your conscience to throw off one who has been the 
 making of tens of thousands for you, and who now stands before you 
 a ruined man? how, I say, can you reconcile the refusal of what is 
 a small sum to you, to retrieve his fortunes — a small sum, were it even 
 
; 
 
^ .c7... ^JYVJ-<. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. lOl 
 
 to be given — but when it is only a loan I ask — no, I am sure you 
 cannot mean to refuse it." 
 
 " Could I even spare it, Captain Finch, my conscience would equally 
 reproach me for aiding another in evil doing." 
 
 " Come, come. Gaffer Godly, that won't do. — You can't humbug me, 
 though you can the world — we know each other. You would not like 
 to have the world know all I could tell of you." 
 
 Mr. Spiggles took snuif again, before he answered. " You would 
 find it difficult to prove any thing against me. Captain Finch." 
 
 " More perhaps than you would like," said Finch — " but fear not — 
 I would scorn to use so base a means to raise money, though I were 
 starving. Once for all, will you lend me even a thousand ? " 
 
 *' I assure you, Captain " 
 
 " Even five hundred ? " 
 
 " Not only do I disapprove of the illegal traffic in which you indulge, 
 but I have heard you have gone so far as to aid the king's enemies — 
 flying rebels — and I own I am loyal to my Church and my king." 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! put a stopper on that lingo, you old hypocrite I " 
 cried Finch, losing all patience. "Church and king, forsooth! — much 
 you care for either. Your religion you can put off and on like your 
 coat, and like it 'twill be always of the sleekest outside — and your 
 loyalty teaches you to cheat the king's exchequer. Church and king, 
 forsooth! — If you could make a thousand pounds by selling both, you'd 
 do it. Religion and loyalty, quotha ! — Your false oaths at the Custom- 
 house are good proof of both ! and yet you talk of virtue — you, you 
 forsworn hypocrite, with a string of perjuries hanging round your heart 
 as thick as beads on a blackamoor." 
 
 Spiggles grew more ghastly as Finch poured forth his fierce invec- 
 tive, and opened a little window that looked into the outward warehouse 
 to call his clerk, but Finch interrupted him. 
 
 " Don't be afraid, you paltry coward — Fll not harm you. Do you 
 think I would soil my hands with such contemptible carrion — faugh ! 
 I leave you to your religious meditations, you perjured, pilfering, 
 stingy, old sinner ; and in the middle of your prayers, don't forget 
 n ly blessings on you ! " 
 
 He shook his clenched fist at the shrivelled up Spiggles as he spoke, 
 and as he showed his teeth in a^ fiendish grin as he uttered the word 
 " blessings," there was something more appalling in it than if he had 
 used all the curses in the world. He strode from the counting-house, 
 trembling and pale with passion, and thrusting his arm inside that of 
 Ned, who was waiting for him at the door of the warehouse, hurried 
 through the narrow lane without uttering a word, and did not speak 
 until they reached the thoroughfare, as if his " great rage " could not 
 get vent in a smaller space. 
 
102 £ s. d. 
 
 Then he copiously anathematized the miserly hypocrite who cast him 
 off ; but getting cooler when they got over a couple of miles of ground, 
 as they walked westward the indignant Finch snapped his fingers, 
 swore he did not care a curse for the old hunks, and that all would be 
 right yet. " I have another port still under my lee, lad, and though it 
 is not the haven where I had most right to expect shelter, mayhap 'tis 
 there I'll find it." 
 
 In this hopeful expectation they pushed onward towards the neigh- 
 bourhood of Charing Cross, and turning into a tavern, Finch walked 
 straight into the bar, where a very pretty child was dragging her doll 
 about in a quart pot, by way of carriage. 
 
 " Hillo— is that Polly?" cried Finch. 
 
 The child turned up her pretty blue eyes in wonder at hearing her 
 name uttered by one whom she did not know. 
 
 " Where's mother?" inquired Finch. 
 
 The child only put its finger in its mouth, and kept gazing as before. 
 The mother entered at the moment ; and the instant she espied Finch, 
 tittered a glad exclamation of surprise, and seizing Finch by both 
 hands, poured forth voluble assurance of how delighted she was to see 
 him. 
 
 '* I must shake hands with you. Captain!" 
 
 *' You may as well give us a buss, mother!" said Finch, kissing the 
 buxom landlady. 
 
 " You are as merry as ever. Captain ; though— bless my heart — you 
 don't look as you used, saving your favour." 
 
 " Can't return the compliment, as they say, Mrs. Banks, for you are 
 looking better than ever I saw you." 
 
 " And am better. Captain, thanks to you ; I have thriven ever since 
 the day you lent me the money and got me out of trouble. I've got 
 on ever since ; oh, you've been the saving of me and my orphans." 
 She stooped and took up the child, and bid her kiss the gentleman, 
 for that he was the best friend her mother ever had. 
 
 The child put its little arms round his neck, and pressed its ruby 
 lips to the bronzed cheek of the sailor, who seemed touched by the 
 incident. 
 
 " And I can give you back all your money now, Captain," continued 
 the widow ; " ay, and more too," added she, in an under tone, " if 
 you want it ; for indeed. Captain, you do look bad ; don't be angry with 
 me — but if a hundred more " — 
 
 She stopped, for she saw Finch's lip quiver ; he could not speak, 
 but catching her in his arms, he gave her another hearty kiss ; and as 
 the landlady wiped her eye, which glistened with the dew of pure 
 human sympathy, (though it was in the bai* of a tavern,) — Finch 
 recovered himself sufficiently to say, " Bless you. Mother Banks! 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 103 
 
 you were always a good soul ! — I hope your house is not so full but 
 you can let me have room." 
 
 " If a lord was in your way, he should turn out for you, Captain. 
 The house is yours, and all that's in it! " 
 
 " Avast, mother, avast! — a woman's palaver always bothers me; so 
 say no more — show my friend and myself to a room ; and as soon as 
 may be, let us have a dinner of the best, and a rousing bottle from 
 your pet bin!" 
 
 Mrs. Banks showed them the best room in her house ; and as for 
 dinner, protested she only wished she could melt down gold and silver 
 for their dinner, and give them distilled rubies for wine — or words 
 to that effect, as the lawyers say. 
 
 " There !" cried Finch to Ned, as Mrs. Banks closed the door ; 
 " there, in a poor widow have I found the friendship which the man 
 whose fortune I have mostly made, refused me. Oh, Ned, Ned ! how 
 unequally, and 'twould seem to us how unjustly, are the riches of this 
 world divided!" 
 
 Finch's spirits rose rapidly after he found himself under the roof of 
 Mrs. Banks ; her heartiness and gratitude chased the hateful recollec- 
 tions of Mister Spiggles from his mind, and the innocent kiss of the 
 unconscious child that was told to love him, acted like balm upon his 
 spirit ; a spirit easily excited, but as easily soothed. Indeed, it was 
 Finch's misfortune that he was too sensible to immediate impressions ; 
 he was capable of doing either a bad or a good action. But whatever 
 his faults were, they were attributable rather to a headstrong nature 
 than a bad heart, and were far outnumbered by his good qualities. 
 Among these, generosity stood preeminent; and a loan of money, in 
 an hour of need, to poor Mrs. Banks, had saved her from destruction ; 
 and it was perhaps the inward consciousness that the kiss of her inno- 
 cent child was not quite undeserved, that made it the sweeter ; for how 
 much dearer is every enjoyment we have earned. Finch's misfortune 
 (to go a little further into his character) lay in not having a fixed 
 principle about anything ; and this want, in conjunction with an ex- 
 citable nature, often allowed him to be betrayed into that, in heat of 
 blood, which, in cooler moments, he would not have committed, and 
 in cocker moments often regretted. He was fond of pleasure, whose 
 road, though generally smooth, has some rough places in it, which, 
 without careful driving, may overturn those who frequent it, and Finch 
 had had some upsets in his time. Now, in these cases it is found that 
 the warnings arising from experience do not always act as correctives, 
 but rather embolden ; and that when people have been flung very often 
 and escaped unharmed, they get so used to the matter, that they think 
 nothing about it. And so it was with Finch. He had been so long 
 following the bent of his will merely, that he neglected any other 
 
101: £ S. (L 
 
 form of guidance, and, of course, his horses sometimes ran away with 
 him, and consequently an occasional break down was the result ; but 
 as his energy and activity always put him on his legs again, he heeded 
 not the momentary bruises he received, which, as they healed, hardened 
 and became insensible to future pain, as the culprit often flogged loses 
 all terror of the lash. 
 
 Asking pardon of the reader for this slight digression from the 
 immediate story, to aiEFord a general idea of the class and " manner of 
 man" to which Finch belonged, we shall now proceed. 
 
 Finch, as his spirits rose, opened to Ned the bright prospects the 
 future presented to him ; and, as they sat at the window, looking upon 
 the busy thoroughfare before them, he suggested every five minutes a 
 new plan to be " up in the world again." His fourth proposition was 
 just on the point of being broached (making exactly twenty minutes 
 they had been at the window) when his thoughts were interrupted by a 
 singular arrival at the door of the tavern. Two coaches drove up, 
 having their roofs occupied with four sailors each, while their interiors 
 were empty ; and as an altercation commenced between the drivers 
 and the tars, whi5;Jfe4?C?^ed to excite the indignation of both the dis- 
 puting parties, s^^^^^^li^ mirth of bystanders, who rapidly gathered 
 to listen, Finch threw up the window to hear what was going forward. 
 He found the dispute occasioned by the sailors desiring the coachmen 
 to drive them '' back again," while the coachmen swore they wouldn't, 
 for that their horses were tired, and that they had driven them back and 
 forward the same road three times, and what could they want more ? 
 
 " What's that to you if you're paid, " said one of the Jacks. 
 
 " Well, I don't like it, " said coachee. 
 
 " Well, no matter, whether you like it or not — you've got the bounty, 
 and are under orders, and must sail — so weigh and be off." 
 
 " Can't you get another pair of coaches? " 
 
 " We see none here, " cried the sailors. 
 
 " There are plenty to be had, " answered the coachman. 
 
 " Well, " said a more reasonable tar, " let them drive us to one of 
 their anchoring grounds where the craft lie, and let these lubbers go 
 into dock and be paid off, if so be they like it." , 
 
 "But I like this craft," says another; "she's none o' your fair- 
 weather cockle shells — she pitches as if it blew a trifle, and 'tis 
 a'most as good as being at sea." 
 
 The crowd laughed at the sailor's choice of a coach, but the coach- 
 men turned to them and said, " Ah ! you may laugh, but if you knew 
 what a plague we've had with them — and they won't even sit inside." 
 
 "Why, you lubber!" said the principal spokesman, "would you 
 have us stay below while we can come on deck ? " 
 
 The absurd answer of the seamen always turned the laugh against 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 105 
 
 the discomfited drivers, and the arrival of another coach simihirly 
 laden to the former ones, strengthened the party of the Jack tars. 
 Indeed, this coach was stronger in attraction to the crowd, for amidst 
 the sailors on the roof sat a piper, who was playing away for the bare 
 life the most rollicking of tunes. Hitherto Finch and Ned had en- 
 joyed the scene in silence, but now the latter involuntarily exclaimed, 
 
 " By the powers 'tis he ! " 
 
 *' Who?" inquired Finch. 
 
 " There— there ! " said Ned, pointing to the piper, and made no 
 further answer, but, rushing from the room, ran down stairs, and in 
 another moment Finch saw Ned clambering to the top of the coach, 
 and after addressing a word to the piper, beheld the most cordial 
 marks of recognition pass between them. This put an end to the 
 dispute between the drivers and their strange fares, for as Phaidrifj- 
 na-pib — for it was he — said he would go into the tavern with his friend, 
 the sailors agreed to go wherever he went, so the coaches were dis- 
 charged with ten times the amount of their proper fare; and as the 
 crowd saw the sailors showering money into the hands of the drivers, 
 they cheered the open-handed liberality, whereuj ^^^me of the Jacks 
 dipped their hands into their pockets again and pi ted them full of 
 coin to the crowd, many of whom were not loath to take advantage of 
 such a windfall. The thoughtless sons of the sea, however, were soon 
 housed in the tavern, the crowd dispersed by degrees, and after Ned 
 had seen the sailors comfortably stowed in a room below, he conducted 
 Phaidrig up stairs, and introduced him to Finch, who, he had no doubt, 
 would be as glad to hear, as himself, by what chance the blind piper 
 had come to London. 
 
 " rU tell you how it was," began Phaidrig. 
 
 " Stop," said Ned — " perhaps you would like a glass of something 
 before you begin." 
 
 "Bless your sowl, not at all! — them divils of sailors keep me 
 dhrinkin' mornin', noon, and night, so that in throth its refreshing to 
 have a mouthful o' nothing. Faix I'm so full o' spirits, that I'd be 
 afeard to blow out a candle for fear my breath would take fire. But 
 to come to my story. You see, one fine day there put into Galway- 
 bay three ships, and soon afther came a power o' sailors on shore with 
 handfuls o' strange money, that no one could tell the value of, not even 
 the sailors themselves, for I hear broad pieces of silver and even goold 
 was scattered about like dust — and maybe the townspeople didn't 
 sweep it up. Well, sir, the sailors was mad for divarshin, and av 
 coorse coortin' and dancin' comes undher that denomination, and as 
 music is wanted for the fanatistical toe, to be sure they could not do 
 without me — Phaidrig-na-pib was in request — and maybe they didn't 
 
106 £ 
 
 s. 
 
 pay the piper. By dad, I was a rich man in a few days, and paid off 
 all the incumbrances on my estate." 
 
 " Have you an estate then ? " inquired Finch, rather surprised, for 
 Finch, be it known, was an Englishman, and had never met an Irish 
 piper before. 
 
 " To be sure I have," said Phaidrig. " Have n't I the estate of 
 man upon me, and what more throublesome estate is there to manage ? " 
 
 " True," said Finch, with a smile. " But what were the incum- 
 brances you spoke of ! " 
 
 " It was all in consequence of a legacy was left me," said Phaidrig. 
 
 " Ah !" said Finch, anticipating — " and you sunk your own trifle 
 of property in going to law with the executors I suppose ? " 
 
 " Not at all," said Phaidrig. — " In the first place, I could not sink 
 my property much more than it was by nature, for it is undher wather 
 nine months in the year — being in a bog, and as for the executioners, 
 or whatever you call them, I never heerd o' such people at all ; but 
 not to bai^^r you with such bits and scraps o' nonsense, just let me 
 tell you how I got here." 
 
 "The sailors, as I towld you, kept me busy, mornin', noon, and 
 night, and at last the Captain himself came ashore one day, and heerd 
 me, and swore nothing would content him but that I should go aboord 
 and play for him, and by dad, he pulled out some goold pieces and 
 popped them into my hand, not that I went for the sake of the money, 
 but that he praised my playing powerful, and I remarked he liked the 
 fine omld airs. His name was Talbot — and he took me aboord sure 
 enough, and the way he came into Galway-bay was, that having 
 taken some Spanish ships prizes, and the weather turning bad, he 
 made for Galway-bay, until the storm was passed, and the word was 
 that the prizes was so rich, that Captain Talbot never touched the 
 private goods of the people at all, only the cargo of the ship, although 
 the people wor so rich that they had diamond rings on every finger, 
 and goold-hilted swoords, and diamonds in them too — but not a taste 
 the Captain would take av them, and wos so pleased with the great haul 
 he made, that he gave a present of twenty goold pieces to every sailor 
 and sarvant in the ship. Well, I staid aboord for two or three days 
 as happy as a king ; when one mornin', as I got up, afther a pleasant 
 night aboord, I began to stagger about and couldn't keep my feet. 
 * Ow wow ! ' says I, — * I'm dhrunk yet,' and was going into bed again, 
 when I no more could get into it than if it was the eye of a needle, 
 and I was catching at every thing in my way to lay howld of it, but 
 nothing would make me stand ; and with that I heerd them laughing 
 at me all round about, and my head began to reel, and I began to feel 
 quare a bit, and down I fell on the flure as sick as a dog. — To make a 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 107 
 
 long story short, they had put to sea in the night, and that was the 
 cause of my staggering and qualmishness all the time I was blaming 
 the dhrink for it. Well, I was so bothered with the sickness for five 
 or six days I couldn't take bit or sup, or handle the pipes at all, so 
 that the Captain was disappointed of all the music he expected to get 
 out o' me while he was sailing from Galway to London, but when I 
 got well, I paid off the old score, for I worked a power and didn't lave 
 a tune in the bag I didn't give them, and I got such a favourite with 
 them that they made me put up with them here in London, and they 
 pet me like a first child — and that's the way you see the Irish piper 
 came to London." 
 
 " And how do you like London ? " asked Finch. 
 
 " Oh, it's a fine place, sir." 
 
 " How can you tell, under the deprivation of sight ? " 
 
 " Don't I hear it ? — Can't I tell what crowds are passing up and 
 down, and what a power of waggons and carriages there are in it ? — 
 and all the different bells that are ringing tell me 'tis full c churches. 
 Sure fifty ways I know it's a big place." 
 
 " How would you like to live here, Phaidrig ? " inquired Ned. 
 
 " Not at all — the air breathes thick to me, and wants the sweet smell 
 of the mountains." 
 
 " When do you mean to return, then, to Ireland?" 
 
 " When these divils o' sailors will let me — and faix I'm beginning 
 to get tired o' them — and would be long ago, only for the thundering lies 
 they tell, that divarts me. And one chap, a new friend they have 
 picked up to-day, bates all the rest hollow ; I give it up to him for the 
 biggest liar I ever met, and I have met a few, and, indeed, am not a 
 bad hand at it myself, on an occasion — but this feUow — Ow, ow ! " 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 " One of the sailors out o' the great ship come home lately ; I forget 
 her name, but the commander's name is Anderson." 
 
 " Anson, I suppose, you mean," said Finch. " Commodore Anson." 
 
 " That's it," said Phaidrig. " Well, if you were to hear this fellow 
 tell of all their doings." 
 
 " He can scarcely tell more wonders than the reality, I believe," said 
 Finch ; " they say Anson's sufferings, and dangers, and triumphs, are 
 beyond the wonders of fairy tales." 
 
 " Faix, the fairies are fools to the fellow I spake of, if the half of 
 what he says be true." 
 
 Finch suggested to Ned that they should join the party of sailors, 
 doubting not it would be good fun. Ned chimed in with the propo- 
 sition, and Phaidrig undertook to make them welcome on his intro- 
 duction. They at once acted on the suggestion, and found the jolly tars 
 "tossing the can" gaily. Phaidrig was hailed with a shout of delight, 
 
108 £ S, d. 
 
 and his friends heartily welcomed him ; and, having been accommo- 
 dated with seats and glasses, Finch and Ned were on as good terms 
 with the lads of the ocean in five minutes as if tliey had been ship- 
 mates. Finch essayed immediately to draw out the principal romancer, 
 of whom Phaidrig had spoken, and found it no difficult matter. Every 
 sailor is ready enough to talk about his ship ; and when a man had 
 such a ship as the " Centurion" to brag of, he had reason to speak the 
 more. He rattled away about the disasters and triumphs of the cir- 
 cumnavigation right willingly, every now and then bolting out some 
 tremendous fiction, whereupon Phaidrig would make his pipes give 
 out a little querulous squeak, that made every one laugh but the story- 
 teller, who only swore the more stoutly to the truth of all he said 
 the more doubt was cast upon it. He was one of the principal 
 people engaged in the attack on the shores of South America — he was 
 the first to land — he made the Dons run — five and twenty of them — 
 and the Governor at their head, all with his own hand. 
 
 Phaidrig's pipe gave a plaintive cry, as if it was calling for mercy. 
 
 " What's that you say?" cried Jack. " D— d if I didn't, though ; 
 and I would have thrash'd twice as many, if they were there ! " 
 
 On went the narration again. The town was burnt, after being 
 emptied of its treasure, and the triumphant boats rowed back to the 
 ship, all but sinking with the weight of gold they carried ; again they 
 are afloat on the great Pacific Ocean ; again they traverse the mighty 
 waste of waters ; again sickness attacks them. 
 
 " Then," said Jack, " we knew that unless we could make an island, 
 we were lost — and, by hard work, we did make an island at last." 
 
 " You made an island," cried Phaidrig ; " well, that is the best thing 
 you towld yet ! " — and Phaidrig made his pipes give a screech, while 
 he shouted with laughter. " I suppose you'll tell us you made the 
 world next." 
 
 "Put a stopper on that chap's lingo, will you !" cried Jack. 
 
 It was now explained to Phaidrig that " making " an island, in nau- 
 tical parlance, meant arriving at an island. 
 
 "Oh, that's it, is it?" said Phaidrig; "then that's the way you 
 sailoring gentlemen arrive at ,your wonderful stories, I suppose — by 
 making them." 
 
 " The story-teller swore he would carbonado the piper if he didn't 
 take care ; but the rest of the sailors overruled him in this, swearing 
 Phaidrig was a treasure, and the best fellow in the world, and that he 
 had the privilege of saying anything he liked. 
 
 " Well," continued Jack, " we made the island— mind, you piper- 
 chap — we made it." 
 
 " Ay, ay ! " cried Phaidrig. 
 
 " And then," cried Jack, with enthusiasm, " How we did enjoy 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 109 
 
 the fresh water and vegetables— and such vegetables! You will 
 hardly believe it, now, but as true as I'm here, there was little round 
 loaves growing nat'ral on the trees, and as good bread as I'd wish 
 to eat." 
 
 " I hope it was ready butthered," said Phaidrig. 
 
 " No, it wasn't — you old piperly humbug. But if we hadn't butter, 
 we had milk on the trees, though. Now, what do you say to that ?" 
 
 " As far as milk is consarned, sir," said Phaidrig, " all I'll say is, 
 that * Kerry cows have long horns.' " * 
 
 " It was not from cows we had it, I tell you ; but trees — out of nuts ; 
 there we found nuts that gave us more than a pint o' milk a-piece." 
 
 " That's the hardest nut to crack I ever met," said Phaidrig. 
 
 " It's true though, so hold your jaw ; they call 'em co-co nuts." 
 
 " Cow-cow would be a fitter name for them," said Phaidrig. 
 
 " Well," continued Jack, " after making all right and tight for sea, 
 we made sail for China, and stood for ten days or so " — 
 
 " And why didn't you go on ?" cried Phaidrig. 
 
 *' So we did go on, you nincompoop." 
 
 " Why, you tell me this minit you stood, and how could you go on 
 while you were standing ? " 
 
 It was [again explained to Phaidrig that the sea-phrase to "stand" 
 for a place, meant to go towards it. 
 
 " Well, you have quare ways of talking," said Phaidrig; " and if a 
 plain-spoken man can't make you out, it's your own fault, with your 
 contrary words." 
 
 " Well," continued Jack, " we made China ; — you know now, I 
 suppose," said he to Phaidrig, rather testily, — " you know now, old 
 blowpipe, what I mean when I say we made China." 
 
 " O yis," said Phaidrig, mischievously, " you mean you made cups 
 and saucers." 
 
 " No, I don't, old double-tongue," exclaimed Jack, while the sailors 
 laughed at the continued quibbling by which Phaidrig annoyed him — 
 "No, I don't ;— but it's no use talking to you — only don't vex me too 
 much — that's all — mind your eye ! " 
 
 " I wish I had one to mind," said Phaidrig. 
 
 The cheerful spirit of the man, jesting on his own misfortune, 
 touched even the impatient story-teller, and he joined in the chorus of 
 laughter which followed Phaidrig's last rejoinder. Phaidrig's spirit of 
 jest was fully satisfied in making the man join in the laugh against 
 himself ; and when the noisy mirth abated, he begged Jack to go on, 
 and said he would not annoy him any more, if he could help it. 
 
 * A saying in Ireland, applied to any incredible story. Kerry being a remote 
 corner, it would be more difficult to detect any exaggeration promulgated as to its 
 wonderful productions ; hence the saying. 
 
110 £ s. (L 
 
 "In China," continued Jack, "we did the grand thing. They 
 wanted us there to pay port dues, and all that sort of thing, in going 
 into harbour, but our commodore said he'd see 'em far enough first — 
 farther than any of us would like to go, I reckon ; and told 'em the 
 king of England never paid no duty at all, but took all he could get, 
 and more too, which stands to reason, or what would be the good of 
 being king of England ? So we got all the 'commodation in life we 
 wanted, and didn't pay a rap to the long-tails ; and then, all being 
 ship -shape again, we put to sea. The commodore said nothing to 
 none of us, thof all of us suspected there was something in the wind, 
 by the long walks the commodore used to take, all by himself, up and 
 down the quarter-deck, with never a word to nobody; and sure enough 
 we were right. We were nigh a fortnight at sea afore he broke his 
 mind to us ; but then, ordering all hands to be turned up, he tipped us 
 the lingo. * My lads,' says he, * wouldn't you like to go back to old 
 England with your pockets well lined ? ' says he. * Ay, ay, sir ! ' 
 says every man in the ship. ' Well then,' says the commodore, 
 ' there's the rich Spanish galleon,' says he, * a sailing from Manilla 
 to Akkypulky, and tliat^s what I'd like to t.ike.' The commodore's 
 speech was hailed with a shout. ^ Remember, my lads/ says he, ' I 
 never want to deceive you;' — we shouted again; — 'the galleon is 
 strong,' says he, and we are wasted by sickness ; our numbers are few, 
 and that few are weak ; we have only half our compliment of hands ; 
 but, at the same time,' says he, * a'nt we able to lick twice as many 
 Spaniards, my boys?' We shouted louder than ever. 'That's 
 enough,' says the commodore, * we'll take the galleon ; — keep a bright 
 look out, let every lad have his eye open.' And sure enough we had; 
 — then you might see the officers sweeping the horizon with their 
 glasses every half hour, and night and day a man at the mast head. 
 Well, about noon one day, a sail to the southward was reported from 
 the top ; — up ran the officer of the watch, with his bring-'em-near ;* — 
 and when the commodore hailed him from the deck, to know what he 
 made her out to be, he answered 'twas all right — a large ship, running 
 to the southward. My eyes ! what a shout did rise when we heard 
 the news ; we were all as nimble as monkeys ; and, with a ' will O,' 
 we made all sail in chase. When we had every inch of canvass 
 drawing, and were going well through the water, ' Let the men 
 have their dinner,' says the commodore ; ' they have work before 
 them.' Dinner we had soon, accordingly, thof the thoughts of making 
 so rich a prize almost took away our appetites, so "we made short wcrk 
 of it. All this time we were nearing the galleon, that did not seem 
 to notice us for some time, but soon we saw she was alive to it, for 
 she crowded sail and seemed inclined to show us her heels ; but all of 
 * Telescope. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. HI 
 
 a sudden, 'bout she comes, and beai'S right down on us. 'Twas such 
 a comfort to see we were not in for a long chase, and maybe lose her 
 in the night, after all, but to settle the matter out of hand at once ; 
 so we cleared the decks, and made all ready for action. Now, you 
 see, it's a custom with these Spanish chaps, to lie down when an enemy 
 comes up to them to deliver a broadside, thinking they have less 
 chance of being killed crouching than standing ; and then, when the 
 broadside is over, up they jump and work their guns;* — it's a dirty 
 dodge ; but so it is ; — so the commodore passed the word round the 
 ship, that instead of firing a broadside into the enemy, we should give 
 her our guns one after another, as we brought them to bear when we 
 n eared her, and so we did ; so that the lubbers were lying flat, waiting 
 for a broadside, while we bore up to her, going bang, bang, into her with 
 our starboard guns as we ran past her, and then, going about, we had our 
 larboard broadside ready by the time the Dons were on their legs ; so 
 that we exchanged with them, after giving them thirty guns before 
 we got any answer. We had rather the advantage in metal, but they 
 had twice our number of men — five hundred and fifty to little more 
 than two hundred, weal^ened by sickness too ; — but what o' that ? — 
 they were Spaniards, and we were Britons ! The Spaniard mounted 
 thirty-six guns on his lower deck, besides twenty-eight lighter ones 
 on his gunwale quarters and tops ; they call them 'pidreros' " — 
 
 " Pattheraras, we call them in Ireland," said Phaidrig. 
 
 " Don't stop me, and be d — d to you! ! " shouted Jack. 
 
 " Twenty-eight pidreros, and they peppered our decks pretty well; 
 but as most of our hands were below fighting the heavy guns, they did 
 not do us much damage, while our heavy mettle was pounding them 
 in their vitals ; they were only scratching our face while we were 
 digging them in the ribs; and their hands were so numerous that^very 
 shot of ours was killing more on their crowded decks, than theirs among 
 our spare crew. They did not fight badly, however — but at last down 
 came the flag of the Nostra Signoi^a de Cahadonga — that was her 
 name ; those Spanish chaps, men, women, and children, ships and all, 
 have such confounded long names, — and her commander Don Jero- 
 nimo de Montero — there's another o' them, came aboard the Centurion 
 — now there's a tidy name — and delivered his sword to — Co7)imodore 
 Anson — that's short and sweet too — so there's how we took the Nostra 
 confound her, I can't say her name right over again." 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried Finch—" well fought— and her treasure, they say, 
 was a million and " 
 
 " Avast heaving, messmate — we're not come to the treasure yet, 
 there was worse danger than the battle, after the enemy struck. Just 
 
 * Such is described to be the Spanish mode of fighting, by the writers of 
 the day. 
 
112 £ s. d. 
 
 as we were conquerors — up walks the first lieutenant to the commodore 
 to congratulate him on his victory — as he pretended — but it was to 
 whisper to him that the Centurion was on fire below, close to the 
 powder room. That was the time to see the cool courage of the noble 
 Anson — not a word of alarm was whispered on the deck, and the com- 
 modore went below as unconcerned to all appearance, as if he was 
 going to dinner, and by his example kept the men so steady and quiet 
 below, that the fire was extinguished in a few minutes. As it turned 
 out, the danger was really less than it appeared, for some oakum had 
 caught fire by the blowing up of a small portion of the powder between 
 decks, and the smoke and the smother made matters seem worse than 
 they were— but a moment's confusion might have blown gold and all, 
 friends and foes, into the deep ocean, and no word would have been 
 heard of Anson's glory." 
 
 "A brave tale, i' faith," said Finch. 
 
 " Stay, there is one thing more I have to tell," said Jack. — "What I 
 told you, partly is credit to ourselves — what I'm going to tell you, is 
 to show how Providence watched over us all the way home — our sick- 
 ness diminished, we had good weather round the Cape, and pros- 
 perous winds home, and just as we were entering the Channel it fell 
 thick and hazy, and this we were ungrateful enough to call bad luck, 
 when, as it turned out, it was our salvation, for in that very fog we 
 passed unseen right through the middle of a whole French fleet." 
 
 " Providential indeed," said Finch. 
 
 " Yes," said Jack thoughtfully — " I will say Heaven was special 
 kind to us all through, though we had some sore trials and sufferings." 
 
 " But how amply rewarded you are by the tremendous treasure you 
 have brought home ! Near a million and a half I hear ; you must 
 have prodigious prize money." 
 
 '' Why, yes — pretty picking," said Jack. " Every man before the 
 mast got three hundred pounds on account the other day, and we 
 have a heap more to get still — so call for what you like — I'll pay for 
 all." 
 
 "No d — me ! " you shan't, cried another of the revellers — I'm not a 
 Centurion man, and didn't sail under a commodore ; plain Captain 
 Talbot was my commander, and my ship only a privateer, but as far 
 as prize money goes I pouched eight hundred guineas to my share, so 
 Til pay — you can pay for me when you get the rest of yours ! " 
 
 " Eight hundred ? " exclaimed Finch. 
 
 "Ay — eight hundred hard shiners!" cried the sailor — "there's a 
 sample " said he, thrusting his hand into his pocket and dragging out 
 a fist full. 
 
 Finch exchanged a look with Ned, and said, " that's the trade ! " 
 
 " And though a commodore didn't command us," added the tar, 
 
TREASURE TROVE. \\Ji 
 
 " we had a pretty tightish fight of it, as I could tell you, if so be you'd 
 like to hear it." 
 
 " I should, of all things," said Finch, who, wishing to ingratiate 
 himself with these roving gentlemen, knew the surest road to a sailor's 
 heart was through his story. The sailor popped a fresh quid in his 
 cheek, hitched up his trousers, and put himself into an attitude — in 
 short, * squared his yards' to tell his story, when, just as he had got 
 over the preliminary sentences, his yarn was suddenly cut short by a 
 very sharp sound of hooting in the street; and as the noise grew louder 
 the whole party rose and ran to the windows to see whence the hub- 
 bub arose. A .dense mob of people preceded a carriage, which was 
 guarded by some strange-looking soldiers, whose singular uniform 
 seemed matter of special dislike to the populace. They wore grey 
 jackets turned up with red, and there was a very un-English cut 
 about them altogether. They were, in fact, a body of Swiss, resident 
 in and about London, who, in the absence of the greater part of the 
 regular troops abroad, in the prosecution of the king's Joreign wars, 
 volunteered to do military duty, and were embodied accordingly ; and 
 this seeming confidence in foreigners in preference to Britons was a 
 most odious measure, and rendered the king very unpopular with the 
 great mass of his subjects. The crowd seemed inclined to impede as 
 much as possible the progress of the guarded carriage which contained 
 prisoners, who were on their road to examination at the Cock-pit, 
 where the Privy Council then held their sittings. Reproaches were 
 showered on these Swiss guards, and terms of disrespect, loudly shouted 
 against the king and his ministers, by the growling crowd, which pressed 
 more and more on the guard, who seemed half inclined at last to use 
 their bayonets. 
 
 " Kill Englishmen if you dare !" roared the crowd. 
 
 " Down with the Hanoverian rats !" was thundered from another 
 side. 
 
 " Why won't the German good-for-nothing trust his own people ? " 
 cried a third party. 
 
 " Down with the badgers! " was echoed round about — alluding to the 
 grey regimentals of the Swiss. 
 
 At this moment the carriage which bore the prisoners came within 
 full view of the window, and Ned recognised Kirwan in one of the 
 captives. For an instant he almost rejoiced that the man whose pre- 
 sence in Flanders he so much feared was retained in England ; but in 
 an instant his better nature triumphed over the selfish thought, and he 
 called Finch's attention to the carriage, at the very moment that he, 
 too, had caught a glimpse of O'Hara. Exchanging a significant look 
 with Ned, Finch made a rapid and impassioned address to the sailors, 
 saying the prisoners were friends of his, and as innocent as babes 
 
114 £ s, (L 
 
 unborn; winding up with an appeal to their feelings as "men and Britons" 
 if they would allow free-born Englishmen to be dragged to slaughter, 
 like sheep to the shambles, by a pack of beggarly foreigners? 
 
 " Will you, who have thrashed the Spaniards, let a parcel of hired 
 strangers make Britons slaves in their own land ?" cried Finch. 
 
 " No, no, no ! ! " was indignantly shouted by the thoughtless and 
 generous tars, who, headed by Finch and Ned, made a rush from the 
 tavern, and, further inflaming the crowd by their fierce invectives and 
 daring example, a bold dash was made at the carriage, the doors drag- 
 ged open, the guard overturned right and left, and Kirwan and his 
 companions in bondage were freed in an instant, and hurried through 
 the rejoicing crowd by the posse of sailors down the narrow streets 
 of the favouring neighbourhood ; and, while the tumult raged wildly 
 behind them, and all pursuit was successfully retarded by the mob, 
 the two men, so late in deadly jeopardy, sped securely onward towards 
 the river, where they effected an embarkation in safety ; the broad 
 Thames was soon placed between them and their pursuers, and the 
 obscure haunts on the Surrey side of the river gave sanctuary for the 
 present to the rescued prisoners. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. H5 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The storm which had so nearly made an end of the persons most 
 prominently engaged in our history, which dealt such heavy blows on 
 the mercantile interest in England, as almost to amount to national 
 calamity, had not inflicted such smarting wounds as those under which 
 France suffered. She had been for months preparing a great blow 
 against Britain, which the winds in one night had paralyzed. And as 
 this threatened movement was known to all Europe, its defeat was 
 bitterly felt by the sensitive nation that looked on it so hopefully. 
 
 But still they could attribute their failure to the elements in ihat 
 case; but another occurred which was more difficult to support with 
 patience. Admiral Roquefeuille, having made a junction of the Brest 
 and Rochefort squadrons, sailed up the British channel with the 
 intention of making an attack by sea, while Saxe should make his 
 descent by land, and, having run up channel as far as Dungeness, the 
 British fleet hove in sight, bearing down upon him. The lateness of 
 the hour, and state of wind and tide, prevented the gallant old Norris 
 from at once closing in action with him, and Roquefeuille took advan- 
 tage of the night to get away in the dark, and return to port, w^hile 
 Norris had the credit of clearing the channel of the enemy without 
 firing a shot. 
 
 But the extreme vigilance which our fleet and cruisers were obliged 
 to exercise for great national purposes gave facility to minor adven- 
 turers, who dared the channel, and the safety which could not be 
 obtained by the guns of a line-of-battle ship, was secured by the 
 insignificance of a fishing-boat. Under cover of such protection, 
 Kirwan and O'Hara reached the coast of France in safety, in a few 
 days after their rescue in London ; and at Gravelines joined Lynch, 
 who was deeply engaged in the interests of Charles Edward, and in 
 constant communication with the prince, who kept quiet at this little 
 spot under the name of the Chevalier Douglas. His hopes had been 
 fearfully dashed by the disasters of the storm. His cause, w^iich had 
 liitherto been so popular, fell into disrepute ; for that great element of 
 popularity — success — seemed to be denied to him, and the unfortunate 
 Stuart was blamed for all the failures. Some few faithful and untiring 
 
 I 2 
 
116 £ s. d. 
 
 friends still clung with desperate fidelity to his cause, and his small 
 house was the rendezvous of these devoted adherents, where the prince 
 was still cheered by their hopefulness, and assisted by their advice. 
 Of the latter he stood much in need; for the chevalier was deplorably 
 deficient in judgment, and allowed trifles to attract or annoy him when 
 greater interests might have been expected to engross his mind at that 
 important moment. 
 
 Lynch had been on a mission to Paris, to make interest amongst the 
 friends of the prince in the capital, and, through them, to endeavour 
 to influence those in power in his favour ; but he found the cabinet as 
 much disgusted with the failure of their last grand effort as the people 
 in general, and, so far from having the interests of Charles Edward 
 discussed in council, their best energies were employed to send a suffi- 
 cient force into Flanders, which was seriously threatened by the Dutch, 
 who seized this favourable opportunity to join England in the war 
 more heartily than they had yet co-operated. 
 
 A little council of four sat in the small house of the Chevalier at 
 Gravelines. The Prince himself, Lord Marshal, Drummond of 
 Bochaldy, and Lynch, just arrived from Paris. After he had laid his 
 statement of how matters stood in the capital, Drummond asked him 
 if he had seen Marshal Saxe. 
 
 *' Yes," said Lynch. 
 
 " And what said he ?" enquired Charles ; "he seemed to be all heart 
 and soul in the cause." 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Lynch, "as he would be heart and soul in any 
 cause that promised daring military achievement. The Marshal is 
 essentially a soldier, and loves war for war's sake." 
 
 " I am quite of Captain Lynch's opinion," said Lord Marshal. 
 
 " Then he," pursued Charles, " does not seem to care about following 
 up the expedition?" 
 
 " His attention is now turned towards the Low Countries, sir, where 
 the French will soon take the field under his command — that is, if the 
 Marshal's health permits him to leave Paris ; for he is reduced to a 
 state of great exhaustion, and when he allowed me the honour of an 
 audience, he was in bed." 
 
 ■" His debaucheries, I suppose, have reduced him to so helpless a 
 state," said Lord Marshal. " 'Tis a pity so great a man should be 
 such a slave to pleasure. 
 
 " Tush ! " exclaimed Charles. "What were life without pleasure? 
 I vow to heaven I would rather be on a sick bed in Paris, than stuck 
 up in a vile corner like this, where one earthly enjoyment is not to be 
 had — I am enmiye to death. I have neither hunting nor shooting, — 
 I have not had a gun in my hand for two months." 
 
 This was said with a petulance and levity that was shocking to the 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 117 
 
 devoted men who heard it ; and glances were exchanged among his 
 followers, that, if Charles could have read their eyes, should have 
 made him blush. 
 
 "Tis very hard the king refuses to see me," continued the 
 Chevalier, in the same tone of complaint ; " if he would even per- 
 mit me to reside in Paris — the Duke de Richelieu promised to 
 intercede for me in this particular, — did you see him ?" 
 
 " I did, sir," said Lynch. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " He strongly recommends a continuance of quiet residence here 
 for some time." 
 
 " Plague take it !" cried Charles. " The deuce a thing there is to do 
 here but buy fish." 
 
 "Is there not such a thing as ^mending our nets?'" said Lord 
 Marshal, pithily. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said Charles, pettishly, " my patience is worn out." 
 
 " I think we shall not have so long to wait before we see clearly, 
 one way or the other," said Drummond. " Much depends on this 
 campaign. Let the arms of France be successful again, and our cause 
 prospers beyond a doubt. Let victory remove the remembrance of 
 recent disasters, and they will be ready to back your cause again, 
 •sir." 
 
 " I agree with you, Bochaldy," said Lord Marshal. 
 
 " And even then," said Lynch, " though the French government 
 should not give all the aid your highness may reasonably expect, 
 still their success makes ;i/our success. You remember, sir, the 
 Irish merchant at Bourdeaux, of whom I spoke ; he is ready to 
 advance money, and if we watch the moment of England's defeated 
 arms abroad, a well-arranged descent on the shores of Scotland 
 and Ireland at that time must be successful." 
 
 " You always tell me I may depend on Ireland." 
 
 " Sir, she has been always faithful to the cause of your royal 
 house, and is so still." 
 
 " And all Scotland would die for you," said Drummond. 
 
 " So be not impatient, my prince," added Lord Marshal. " Await 
 the result of this campaign." 
 
 " Then I will join the army," cried Charles Edward, " and share in 
 the campaign myself; for I must have something to do." 
 
 " Oh, my prince ! " exclaimed Lord Marshal, reddening to the 
 forehead with shame for his master's folly, " think not of so rash a 
 step. Consider, sir, your position. For God's sake think not of 
 raising your arm in battle on the side of a foreign power, against 
 the people over whom you seek to rule !" 
 
 " It seems I am never right," said Charles, peevishly ; seeming 
 
lis 4j s. d. 
 
 quite insensible to the noble rebuke his faithful servant gave him, 
 and, rising suddenly, he left the room. 
 
 He retired to his own chamber, and employed the remainder of 
 that day in writing to his father bitter abuse of the devoted and 
 high-minded exile who sought to direct his folly. And the men who 
 had abandoned home and country, and were ready to sacrifice their 
 lives for him, were the objects of this ungrateful trifler's anger, 
 because his humour was thwarted by their good sense. He also 
 wrote to Paris, to obtain permission to join Louis's army in Flanders ; 
 but the king felt, as Lord Marshal did, the indecency of such a 
 proceeding, and positively forbade his presence. 
 
 Lynch, after the prince retired, had some farther conference with 
 Lord Marshal and Bochaldy, who were much better able to concert 
 measures for their master's good in his absence; and when the 
 future chances in favour of the Stuart cause were canvassed by 
 the three a herents, till no topic was left untouched. Lynch bade 
 them farewell, as he was going to join Dillon's regiment — so called 
 after its gallant colonel, than whom a more devoted adherent of the 
 vStuarts did not exist. Repairing to his own lodgings, he rejoined 
 Kirwan and O'Hara — the latter bearing a commission in the Irish 
 Brigade, the former about to join, less perhaps with the love of 
 arms than of Lynch's fair daughter ; for it is more than probable 
 that to be near Ellen was one of the objects, if not the principal, 
 which made Kirwan quit Ireland. For the present, however, he 
 was not likely to see her ; for, as the army was about to take the 
 field, it was now concentrating on the frontier, and the following day 
 Lynch and his two countrymen set out for Douay. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 It was a beautiful morning in spring, when the active inhabitants 
 of two neighbouring villages in the province of Hainau, adjoining 
 French Flanders, had just finished their morning meal, and were out- 
 going again to the fields, to continue the healthful industry with 
 which the morning opened, when the blast of a trumpet attracted their 
 attention, and the peaceful peasants were startled at the sound ; for 
 who could live in that province and not know that any day might 
 bring the horrors of war to their door, and, though the little villages of 
 Fontenoi and Antoine had hitherto escaped that perennial scourge of 
 the Lower Countries, the sinking heart of every inhabitant foreboded 
 that their hour was come at last j and the happy hamlets which hitherto 
 had known no greater excitement than a wedding-feast or a christening, 
 was about to have a burial-service celebrated on a large scale. The 
 implements of husbandry, which had been cheerfully flung over the 
 shoulders of sturdy men as they went a-field, were suddenly cast 
 downwards again, and the listeners to the trumpet leant thoughtfully 
 on spade and hoe, as they caught the first glimpse of the party whence 
 the warlike warning proceeded, and some squadrons of French horse 
 were seen approaching ! Women and children now crowded the 
 village streets, as the cavalry ride in and dismount, and appropriate 
 houses and stables to their use, as they are billeted by the proper 
 officer, — and when houses and stables can hold no more, the horses are 
 picketed and the men bivouac. When all is, so far, settled, the 
 peasants go to work, but they cannot work with that heart-free spirit 
 which make« toil pleasing. The demon of war 
 
 " Casts his shado-w before," 
 and all is darkened beneath it. The women in the villages are busy 
 with ordinary cares ; they are preparing " sops for Cerberus," and 
 hope to soften the hearts of the men of war by roasting and boiling. 
 So far, so well. But, in another hour, the engineers arrive, and, shortly 
 after, a group of officers of the higher rank gallop into" the town, — 
 rapid orders are given, and the officers depart swiftly, as they came, 
 and then a terrible work of destruction commences. Whole families 
 are turned out of their houses ; the engineers set to work, the rafters 
 of the cottages are sawn through — in tumbles roof after roof, and each 
 house is made the platform for a piece of artillery. Yes, the smoke of 
 
120 £ s, d, 
 
 the happy hearth that curled in the golden mist of evening, and invited 
 the weary traveller from afar, was to be replaced by the repellant 
 vapour of the cannon's mouth. 
 
 * The war clouds rolling, dun, 
 Where furious Frank and fiery Plun 
 Shout in the sulphurous canopy.' 
 
 The hospitable village that afforded welcome and healthful fare, and 
 wholesome slumber to the wayfarer, was preparing to hurl destruction 
 on all who should approach it. The homes that heard the first fond 
 whispers of bride and bridegroom, and the after holier blessings of 
 fathers and mothers on their children, were soon to hear the roar of 
 cannon thundering above their ruins. 
 
 When this work of destruction began, the men ran back from the 
 fields, w^hile the women and children stood in the streets into which 
 they were turned, and looked on, — some with horror, others with the 
 clamour that bereavement will produce in the most patient. Here was 
 a woman, in silent despair, looking on at her dwelling tumbling into 
 rubbish, — there was some youthful girl, struggling with a swarthy 
 pioneer, endeavouring to stay the upraised axe, about to fell some 
 favourite tree. The men, returning breathless from the field, add to 
 the clamour in a different fashion ; but curses or prayers are alike 
 unavailing, — the work of destruction goes on. 
 
 Far apart, sitting by the road side, was a woman, whose tears fell 
 fast, as she held her baby to her bosom, — the fountains of life and 
 of sorrow were both flowing. The unconscious baby smiled ever and 
 anon, and looked up with its bright eyes at the weeping mother, while 
 an elder child, who could just lisp its thoughts, was crying bitterly as 
 she told her little grief — that the soldiers had trampled down all the 
 pretty flowers in the garden. An officer approached this group, and 
 attempted words of consolation. It was Lynch ; for the advanced 
 cavalry of France was a portion of the Irish Brigade. 
 
 "Do not cry so bitterly," said Lynch, to the weeping woman. 
 
 The woman only answered with her sobs. 
 
 " Do you not see the other villagers are getting away their furniture 
 and making the best they can of it ?" 
 
 The woman looked up gently through her tears ; for, though she 
 could gather no comfort from Yn^jcordsy there was charity in the sound 
 of his voicBy and even tliat to the wretched, is something. 
 
 " You would find relief in going to help your husband." 
 
 " I have no husband to help," said the woman. 
 
 " What ! a widow ?" exclaimed Lynch. 
 
 '* No, thank God !" replied the woman. *" But my husband is not 
 here, — Pierrot is gone some miles away to see his mother, who is 
 dying, and I don't know what to do. I think less of the destruction 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 121 
 
 of our house and the loss of all, than the thought of what poor Pierrot 
 will think, when he comes back, and sees his.house, in ruins, and won't 
 know what has become of his wife and children. Oh, if Pierrot were 
 only here I wouldn't mind it ; but what shall I do all alone ?" 
 
 "Show me which is your house," said Lynch, touched by the 
 woman's agony, " and perhaps I may be able to preserve it." 
 
 " You can't," replied the woman, sadly ; " there it is !" added she, 
 " there — there, where they are dragging up the cannon now." 
 
 'Twas true ; the artillery had arrived, and they were mounting the 
 guns on the ruins of the houses. A dragoon rode up and handed a 
 note to Lynch, saying, as he made his salute, "From Colonel Dillon, 
 sir." Lynch, after glancing at the brief contents of the missive, 
 turned his eyes towards the weeping woman, with much sadness and 
 pity in their expression ; he looked as though he wished to speak, but, 
 feeling he could give her no comfort by his words, he hastily told the 
 dragoon to lead him to Colonel Dillon, and galloped from the spot, 
 heartily wishing he had escaped the scene of suffering he had wit- 
 nessed. ' He soon reached a rising knoll, where Colonel Dillon and 
 some other chiefs were issuing orders to numerous officers, who, arriv- 
 ing and departing in rapid succession, were scouring over the broken 
 ground that lay between the villages of Fontenoi and Antoine and the 
 wood of Barri on the opposite side of the narrow little valley, directing 
 the operations that were going forward with speed and energy across 
 the entire line of this point of defence. Spade and mattock were 
 busily plied in thousands of hands, and deep trenches were cut across 
 the pass, and trees felled and made ready barricades, behind which 
 cannon was judiciously placed, to sweep, with cross fires, the inter- 
 mediate points where an enemy might dare to force a passage. Thus 
 went on the day ; every hour making the approach to the bridge of 
 Calonne more terrible ; and there were the engineers constructing a tete 
 dupont which soon bristled with cannon, and gave the French complete 
 command of the passage of the Scheldt ; for Saxe chose to fight with the 
 river in his rear, thus giving himself the means of throwing the river 
 between him and the enemy, in case the day should go against him, and 
 hence the powerful work constructed to hold the bridge, which afforded 
 retreat, if retreat were needed. And now the gentle slopes which rise 
 from the banks of the ' lazy Scheldt,' began to show upon their crests 
 battalion after battalion crowning the heights and making a brave array 
 of the French force ; and soon the hill sides, whitening with their tents 
 as though a sudden fall of snow had taken place, show that the army of 
 Louis is encamped. Ere long a burst of trumpets and saluting cannon 
 is heard, one universal shout arises where the lilied banners float : — 
 these sounds announce the arrival of the King and the Dauphin, the 
 chivalry of France is to fight under the eyes of their monarch and 
 their prince, and all is enthusiasm. 
 
122 4; 5. d, 
 
 " "Where is the gallant Marshal ?" enquired the King, as he missed 
 the presence of Saxe, in the crowd of chiefs who surrounded him. 
 
 " Sire," said the Count D'Argenson, " the Marshal is so reduced 
 by sickness, that the fatigue of superintending the preparations of 
 to-day have obliged him to retire to rest." 
 
 " What trumpets are those ?" said the King, as he caught the distant 
 sound of the warlike blast coming from afar. 
 
 " Those of the enemy, vSire," said D'Argenson, looking across the 
 Scheldt, and beholding the distant columns of the English advancing. 
 
 " They are welcome," answered the King ; " we shall measure our 
 strength to-morrow." 
 
 But the English seemed not inclined to wait for the morrow, for a 
 smart fire opened on their side, the French outposts were driven in, 
 and the Marshal de Noailles paid a tribute to the ready gallantry which 
 the English always exhibit to join battle. And now, not content with 
 driving in the outposts, and taking up their position, they even com- 
 menced a cannonade against the French lines, although the evening 
 began to close ; and it was deemed advisable to consult Saxe on the 
 subject. The Marshal was no way disturbed by the news. "Let 
 them fire away," he said — " the Duke of Cumberland is young and 
 precipitate ; he bites against a file ; he little knows what I have 
 prepared for him ; he has no time this evening to force a single point, 
 and must wait till tomorrow to find out the trap into which he is 
 running his head. — So never mind this demonstration to-night — they 
 will soon stop." 
 
 The event proved the truth of Saxe's word. The cannonade soon 
 ceased, and the Duke of Cumberland called a council of war. He held 
 the chief command, though the Prince de Waldeck had some share of 
 authority at the head of his Dutch troops, and burned for military 
 glory which had been so brilliantly won by the English prince at 
 Dettingen ; but the ardour of these two young men was held in check 
 by the old Marshal Koenigsec, who commanded the Austrians, and 
 was entrusted by the States-General for the very purpose of over- 
 ruling the temerity of the fiery young princes. 
 
 On the English side the arrangements were soon made. On the 
 left, the Prince de Waldeck promised to seize Antoine. The Duke of 
 Cumberland undertook all the rest with his British and Hanoverians. 
 
 In the French camp all was gaiety. The king held a banquet in 
 his pavilion, surrounded by his chiefs — he was never known to be more 
 lively ; the discourse ran on battles and feats of arms, and Louis 
 remarked, that since the fight of Poictiers no king of France and his 
 son had been together present in battle. The remembrance of a 
 fight so fatal to the French chivalry was looked upon as an evil omen 
 by many, and rather darkened the end of the festive evening. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 123 
 
 On retiring to his quarters Dillon met Lynch, who, at his colonel's 
 request, was awaiting him. Unusual gloom sat on Dillon's brow; 
 he grasped Lynch's hand with fervour as he told him he wished some 
 parting words with him before the morrow's fight, as he knew that 
 fight would be fatal to him, and, he feared, disastrous to the cause they 
 both loved. 
 
 Lynch endeavoured to dispel such gloomy forebodings. 
 " I fear they are too true," replied Dillon. — " Only think of a French 
 king, by way of inspiring his soldiers, refreshing their memories with 
 Poictiers on the eve of a battle ! " 
 
 '' 'Twas less felicitous than Frenchmen generally are in their allu- 
 sions, certainly," said Lynch; — "but what of that ?" 
 
 " Let it pass," returned Dillon ; " but for myself I feel — I know I 
 am to die to-morrow, and would bid you, my staunch friend and faithful 
 adherent to the Stuart cause, farewell, and to request you to bear to the 
 prince my dying wishes for his prosperity, and the assurance of my 
 fidelity to him to the death, for I shall fall to-morrow in making my 
 best charge for the regaining of his crown." * 
 
 "My colonel— my friend !" exclaimed Lynch — "why this — " 
 " Say no more, my dear Lynch," said Dillon — " such presentiments 
 as mine are always fulfilled. I shall fall — but it will be at the head of 
 my gallant regiment, and I prophesy it shall be a charge that England 
 will long remember, and make the wise regret the cruel laws that make 
 Irishmen exiles and enemies." f 
 
 The friends then parted with a " Good night " and " God bless you," 
 and Dillon offered up his soul devoutly to God before he slept ; for he 
 felt his next sleep should be that of death. 
 
 Night and slumber now wrapped the two camps in darkness and in 
 silence, save the pale glimmer of the stars, or the faint ripple of the 
 river which reflected their light. But this repose was of short duration: 
 drum and trumpet startled the quiet dawn, and the first rays of sunrise 
 glittered on the ready arms of both the powers. 
 
 The king of France was one of the first to rise in the camp, and 
 Count D'Argenson sending to Marshal Saxe for his last orders, the 
 
 * Though the gaining of a battle in Flanders could not immediately replace the 
 Stuarts on the throne of England, still every success against England was looked 
 upon by the exiled Irish as favourable to their cause ; and the brigaded Irish in 
 their gallant aid to France were not actuated by love for the French, but by a desire 
 to favour the Stuarts, whom they regarded as the legitimate race of their sove- 
 reigns ; and, though fighting under the banners of Louis, it was the feeling for their 
 own exiled king, and their own persecuted faith, that inspired them, and whetted 
 their courage — it must be owned not unnaturally — against the English of that daij. 
 
 f George the Second, on hearing of the terrible and triumphant charge of the 
 Irish Brigade at Fontenoi, uttered these memorable words : " Curse on the laws 
 that deprive me of such soldiers.'* 
 
124 £ S, 
 
 Marshal replied that all was ready for his majesty to enter the field. 
 The King and Dauphin, each followed by their splendid suites, wound 
 down the slope, crossed the bridge, and entered on the field of battle, 
 of which, to obtain a better view, many of the followers of the court 
 climbed into trees to feast their Parisian eyes with slaughter. 
 
 Saxe was in such a state of exhaustion, that he was obliged to be 
 carried through the ranks in a litter made of osier, to give his final 
 orders, and the soldiers, looking with fond admiration on their glory- 
 loving General, who made a sick couch serve for a war chariot, 
 hailed his presence with applauding shouts. Around him rode a brilliant 
 staff, and, as he had completed his arrangements, he pointed to\v,ards 
 the enemy as various generals and commanders departed for their 
 respective posts, and said, " Gentlemen, I have but prepared for you 
 the road to victory — alas ! I cannot lead you myself, but you need not 
 the guidance. None know better how to follow the road to glory ! " 
 
 The English guns open as he speaks, and the generals ride to their 
 respective posts. The Count de la Mark gallops to Antoine where he 
 is received by the brave Piedraontese with cheers. The Marshal de 
 Noailles embraces his nephew, the Duke de Grammont, ere he departs 
 for his post ; but he quits the embrace of his uncle for the embrace of 
 death ; he is struck by a cannon-shot, the first victim of that sanguinary 
 day. The old man hides his face in his hands, but the soldier triumphs 
 over the mortal, and, dashing a tear from his eye, he bows to Saxe 
 and cries, "Jwill take his place. Count. Let Fontenoi and vengeance 
 be mine !" The Marshal puts spurs to his charger and rushes to the 
 defence of Fontenoi, on which the English and Hanoverians make a 
 joint attack ; the slaughter is terrific, never was seen a fire so rapid 
 and so terrible ; the valour of the assailants is only to be equalled by 
 the bravery of the defenders ; but the village is one blaze of fire, 
 sweeping destruction on all who dare approach. No living thing exists 
 before it — the English retire, the French shout in triumph, the taunt- 
 ing sound stings the brave Britons, and again they assault the village. 
 So rapid has been the French fire that the ammunition is nearly 
 exhausted ; aid-de-camp after aid-de-camp is despatched for a fresh 
 supply — it does not arrive — the English continue the assault, every 
 ball in Fontenoi is exhausted ; but they still have powder. " Let them 
 fire with powder only, then !" cried the brave old Marshal; " we must 
 keep up the appearance of defence at least." On, press the English — 
 Fontenoi is almost theirs, when a fresh supply of ammunition arrives; 
 the fire is no longer a mockery, and the English are mowed down — they 
 are too much weakened to hope for success — they retire till a reinforce- 
 ment arrives. 
 
 The Duke of Cumberland in the centre passes through the village of 
 Vc/^on under a tremendous cannonade, and, though not more tlian 
 
 
'/=k yn^-'^A^ 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 125 
 
 fifteen or twenty men can march abreast, still, undauntedly, they press 
 through the fire and file ofi" to the left, forming line with the cool 
 precision of a parade, while the iron shower makes wide gaps in their 
 ranks which are instantly filled up, and rapidly a column of undaunted 
 British infantry forms and advances across the broken ground of the 
 centre ; they are suddenly checked— the ground is escarpe — an enor- 
 mous trench is before them. Old Koenigsec whispers the Duke, 
 he dreaded his attack was rash, and that he told him. so. The Duke 
 makes no answer, but, rushing to the front, exhorts the men to re- 
 member Dettingen, and, dashing through the trench himself, he leads 
 his gallant guards forward, who drag with their own nervous arms six 
 guns across the trench, and again move forward at the command of 
 the Duke. 
 
 Four battalions of the French guards now confront them, and the 
 picked infantry of both armies prepare for deadly conflict. The 
 Scotch guards under Campbell and Albemarle, the English under 
 Churchill — a descendant of the great Marlborough. When fifty paces 
 interpose between the combatants, the English ofiicers advance, and, 
 with a courtly air, take off their hats and salute the French guard. 
 The Count de Chabanes, the Duke de Biron, and all the French 
 ofiicers return the salute. Such were the chivalrous customs of that 
 time, that even an invitation to fire was made, which seems absurd in 
 these more matter-of-fact days, when "Up, Guards, and at 'em" was the 
 pithy and unceremonious phrase of Waterloo ; but, in the polished 
 day of Fontenoi, the gallant Lord Charles Hay exclaims, " Gentle ' 
 men of the French guards, fire ! " 
 
 The gentlemen of the French guard would have been shocked to 
 do anything so rude, and Count d'Auteroche replies, " Fire your- 
 selves, gentlemen — The French guai^d never fire first !^^ — 
 
 The English take them at their word, and when they did once set 
 about it, they certainly fired in good earnest, for nearly the whole 
 front rank of the French guard fell. The incredible number of 380 
 killed and 485 wounded was the result of that first volley, to say 
 nothing of ofiicers, nearly all of whom bit the dust ; indeed Fontenoi 
 presents a more fearful list of leaders killed than any other action on 
 record : such was the heroism on both sides with which the men were 
 led to assault, or inspired to resistance. 
 
 The second rank, appalled by the utter annihilation of the first, look 
 back for support ; they see the cavalry 300 toises behind them, they 
 waver, but throw in their fire ; it is fearfully returned by the English, 
 and when Luttaux and D'Aubeterre at the heads of their regiments 
 attempt to support the guards, they arrive but to witness and join 
 in the rout. Luttaux bit the dust. The Duke de Biron had his 
 horse shot under him. On press the victorious English, and the 
 
126 * s. a. 
 
 Duke of Cumberland pours fresh masses into the field. An impenetrable 
 body of 14,000 men is firmly established.. The Duke looks to the 
 right, and expects to see Ingoldsby driving the enemy in before him — 
 alas ! he only receives a message from Ingoldsby asking for fresh 
 orders, as he has hitherto done nothing, being kept in check by the 
 skirmishers, and intimidated by the batteries. The Duke of Cumber- 
 land curses him for a coward, and swears he shall be tried by court 
 martial for it — and he kept his word. This is a fatal mistake. The 
 Duke must either dare all, and pass between the batteries on his right 
 and left, or retire ; he chooses the desperate resolve to hazard all, and 
 the invincible British bayonets drive all before them, though a cross- 
 fire of batteries rips up the English ranks, and carries fearful slaughter 
 into the advancing column, but still it does adoan ce. 
 
 Saxe is alarmed for the fate of the day, and the thought of defeat 
 lends him strength : he calls for a horse, and mounts, but his weak- 
 ness prevents his carrying a cuirass, and a sort of buckler of quilted 
 taffeta is placed before him on the pommel of his saddle. For some 
 time Saxe permits it to remain there, but he soon cries " Curse such 
 mantua-making," and, flinging it down, dashes into the hottest of the 
 fight in a light, open dress. He retrieves the disorder, but sends the 
 Marquis de Meuze to the king requesting him to retire. The king 
 refuses, and determines to remain in the fight. At the moment his 
 suite is scattered by the broken regiments rushing back upon them. 
 The body-guard, of their own accord, without waiting for orders, 
 interpose their columns between the king's person and the fugitives. 
 Saxe heads the second column of cavalry himself, and makes another 
 charge upon the unflinching column — -the cavalry are flung back from 
 the serried bayonets, as a broken wave from a rock — the column is 
 unshaken, and Koenigsec already congratulates the Duke of Cumber- 
 land on his victory. And so it might have been, had the Dutch then 
 advanced ; but, alas ! for the Prince de Waldeck, his fame is tarnished. 
 After the first assault on Antoine, which he undertook to secure, he 
 retired, and never attempted to do more. Saxe rode amidst a 
 tremendous fire all along the centre British line, to reconnoitre their 
 state with his own eye. They were firm, but quite unsupported by 
 any other portion of their troops ; charge after charge, nevertheless, 
 they resist, and the Marshal saw nothing for it but to prepare for a 
 safe retreat for the king. To this end he ordered Fontenoi and 
 Antoine to be abandoned, which bravely held out against a third 
 attack of the English, who, from that quarter, were in vain looked for 
 by the Duke of Cumberland, as the Dutch were as vainly expected 
 from Antoine. The Count de la Mark would not obey the order to 
 retire from Antoine ; and Fontenoi was held also. Again Saxe orders 
 the French infantry to advance and revenge their comrades — " Men 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 127 
 
 of Hainan, you fight on your own fields, drive hence the enemy ! 
 Normandy, remember your ancient chivalry ! you conquered all Eng- 
 land once, shall a handful of Britons resist you ?" — thus inspiring 
 regiment after regiment with his words, he ordered them to charge, 
 calling on their leaders by name as he passed them. Saxe watched 
 the result of the charge — ^the English were still invincible. The 
 Prince de Craon fell as he led his troops to the charge, and the regi- 
 ment of Hainan was swept from the field by a terrible fire of musketry 
 and cannon ; for the English had some few guns with them which 
 they used with great judgment; and as their musketry was fired in 
 divisions, it kept up a continued slaughter amongst the French which 
 drove them back in utter disorder. Saxe now gave up the day for 
 lost — the English column, though it did not advance, was master of 
 the field. It remained motionless, and showed front every where, .only 
 firing when it was attacked. 
 
 Seeing this state of things, a rather noisy council was held round 
 the king, and Saxe despatched fresh orders to have Fontenoi and 
 Antoine evacuated, telling Count de la Mark to refuse at his peril. 
 Just as these orders were despatched, the Duke de Richelieu, the king's 
 aid'de-camj'), arrived at full gallop. 
 " What news ?" cried Saxe. 
 
 " That the day is ours, if w^e only wish it ! The Dutch are beaten, 
 and the English, too, at Fontenoi — the centre only holds out. Muster 
 all our cavalry and fall iijwn them like foragers^ and the victory is 
 won."— 
 
 " I am of that opinion," said the king to the Marshal. 
 " Then we'll do it," said Saxe ; " but first shake them with some 
 cannon. Pequingny," cried he to the Duke, "advance four heavy 
 pieces. D'Aubeterre, Courten, head your regiments ! Ride, Richelieu, 
 to the household troops, and bid Montesson charge ! Jumillac, head 
 your musqueteers ! let the movement be concentrated. Dillon" — for 
 the colonel was among the knot of ofiicers round the king, — " Dillon ! 
 let the whole Irish brigade charge ! — to you I commend its conduct. 
 Where Dillon's regiment leads the rest will follow. The cavdry has 
 made no impression yet ; let the Irish brigade show an example ! " 
 
 " It shall be done. Marshal ! " said Dillon, touching his hat and 
 turning his horse. 
 
 " To Victory ! " cried Saxe, emphatically. 
 
 " Or Death," said Dillon, solemnly, kissing the cross of his sword, 
 and plunging the rowels in his horse's side, that swiftly he might do 
 his bidding ; and that the Irish bi'igade might first have the honour of 
 changing the fortune of the day. 
 
 Galloping along the front of their line, where the brigade stood 
 impatient of the order to advance, Dillon gave a word that made every 
 
128 d: s. d, 
 
 man clench his teeth, firmly plunge his foot deep in the stirrup and 
 grip his sword for vengeance; for the word that Dillon gave was 
 talismanic as others that have been memorable j he shouted as he rode 
 along, " Ihmember Limerick !" and then wheeling round, and placing 
 himself at the head of his own regiment, to whom the honour of 
 leading was given, he gave the word to charge ; and down sw^ept the 
 whole brigade, terrible as a thunderbolt, for the hitherto unbroken 
 column of Cumberland was crushed under the fearful charge — the 
 very earth trembled beneath that horrible rush of horse. Dillon was 
 amongst the first to fall ; he received a mortal wound from the steady and 
 well-directed fire of the English column, and as he was struck, he knew 
 his presentiment was fulfilled ; but he lived long enough to know, also, he 
 completed his prophecy of a glorious charge, — plunging his spurs into 
 his fiery horse, he jumped into the forest of bayonets, and, laying 
 about him gallantly, he saw the English column broken, and fell, 
 fighting, amidst a heap of slain. The day was won ; the column, could 
 no longer resist ; but, with the indomitable spirit of Englishmen, they 
 still turned their faces to the foe, and retired without confusion ; fhei/ 
 lost the field with honour, and in the midst of defeat it was some satis- 
 faction to know, it was the bold islanders of their own seas who carried 
 the victory against them. It was no foreigner before whom they 
 yielded. The thought was bitter that they themselves had disbanded 
 a strength so mighty ; but they took consolation in a strange land in 
 the thought that it was only their own right arm could deal a blow so 
 heavy. Thanks be to God, these unnatural days are past, and the 
 unholy laws that made them so are expunged. In little more than 
 sixty years after, and not fifty miles from that very spot, Irish valour 
 helped to win victory on the side of England ; for, at Waterloo, Erin 
 gave to Albion not only her fiery columns, but her unconquered 
 chieftain. 
 
TREASURE TROVR. V29 
 
 CHAPTER X\^ 
 
 The battle of Fontenoi may be said to have decided tlie campaign 
 it opened. Town after town rapidly fell into the hands of the French ; 
 and though gallant defences were made here and there on the part of 
 the allies in detail, no general movements could be effected ; and the 
 greater part of French Flanders was once more under the dominion of 
 Louis. Nevertheless, while plumed with victory, he otfered peace ; 
 but whether England thought the offer insincere, or fancied that at 
 such a moment favourable terms would not be obtained, she rejected the 
 pacific overture, and France and England continued belligerent 
 powers. This circumstance was considered by the adherents of Charles 
 Edward most favourable to his views, as it was hoped the successes in 
 Flanders would be followed up by striking a home blow at Great 
 Britain, and his partizans flocked to Paris, whither the prince himself 
 had been now allowed to proceed ; and although yet refused a personal 
 interview with the king, he resided in the vicinity of the capital, and 
 was in constant communication with those about the court who were 
 favourable to his interests. Here he could pursue the amusements he 
 so much regretted at Gravelines, and awaited his happy hour with 
 better temper than on the sea-coast, the interregnum being agreeably 
 filled up by the pleasures of the chase and the charms of a society 
 which, though small, was brilliant, and offered a foretaste of vSt. James's 
 in the observance of courtly etiquette and homage to his rank. Not 
 only some of the haute noblesse, and many gallant cavaliers, but fair 
 and stately dames made the small country house of the handsome 
 young prince an enviable residence. And pre-eminent amidst the 
 beauty which graced it was Ellen — no longer the inmate of the 
 cloister at Bruges, but mingling in the gaieties of Paris, under the pro- 
 tection of Madame de Jumillac. To none were the little meetings of 
 the mimic court of Charles Edward more agreeable than to Ellen, 
 whose personal charms won homage from all the cavaliers, and whose 
 sweet manners almost reconciled her triumph to her own sex. As 
 the daughter of one of the most active and devoted of the prince's 
 agents, lie, too, was studious in his attentions to her ; and wherever 
 the fair daughter of Captain Lynch appeared — at masque, or ball, or 
 
 K 
 
J so £ s. cL 
 
 theatre — she attracted universal admiration. Madame de Jumillac 
 particularly loved the opera ; and one night, as she and her fair 
 2)7'0tegeeh^d taken their seats to -witness the representation o^ Arniide, 
 an unusual commotion was observable among the audience ; whispers 
 seemed to pass from box to box, and eyes were eagerly directed 
 towards a conspicuous place near the stage which was yet unoccupied : 
 the pit catches the movement from the boxes, and are equally anxious 
 gazers at the vacant place. The overture commences ; and though, of 
 course, that strict silence which the severe etiquette of the French 
 theatre most fitly enjoins, immediately ensued, still it was manifest 
 the audience were inattentive ; and the vacant seat near the stage 
 carried it hollow against the crammed benches of the orchestra. In a 
 minute or two the door of the box opens, and, ushered with profound 
 reverence to his seat, appears an ofiicer in brilliant uniform. It is the 
 victorious Marshal himself, just arrived in Paris — it is the temporary 
 idol of the people, the glorious Count Maurice de Saxe, and all 
 etiquette is forgotten by the audience. The pit rises en masse, and loud 
 vivats ring through the house ; the powerful orchestra is drowned by 
 that burst of popular admiration — sweeter music to the hero's ears 
 than if Apollo himself led the band. The musicians themselves 
 have lost self-control, and the bewildered leader can scarcely keep 
 them together, while Saxe returns repeated obeisances to the applaud- 
 ing audience. At length order is restored, and the last few bars of the 
 overture are audible. The curtain rises, and an impersonation of 
 Glory appears, and sings a species of prologue; some lines occur in the 
 verses which singularly apply to the hero of Fontenoi, and the actress, 
 catching the enthusiasm of the moment, directs her gaze upon the 
 Marshal as she pours forth her strain of triumph ; and finally, as she 
 completes her heroic roulade, she advances to the box, and presents the 
 laurel wreath she bears, as one of her attributes, to the Marshal. 
 Again the pit simultaneously rose ; and so taken by surprise were all 
 by this impromptu of the actress, that even the courtly boxes were 
 urged to a breach of decorum ; and vivats from the men, and white 
 handkerchiefs, waved by fair hands, hailed the conquering Count, who 
 seemed sensibly touched by the enthusiastic welcome. Again and 
 again he bowed to the audience ; and when, after some minutes, order 
 was restored, he might be seen making slight marks of recognition, as 
 his brilliant eye wandered round the house, and, piercing the deepest 
 recesses of the farthest boxes, caught some smile or glance which 
 beauty cast upon him. But suddenly his attention seemed particularly 
 arrested ; and he makes a salutation in which tliere is more of devo- 
 tion than he has yet manifested — his glances wander no more — he 
 continues gazing on the same place — and all eyes, by degrees, turn to 
 see who has enthralled the volage Count. It is the box of Madame 
 
TKEASURE TROVE. 131 
 
 de Jumillac that is the point of observation. It cannot be Madame 
 who has made the conquest — she is j^assee — it must be la belle Irian- 
 daise. Yes ; the unaffected graces of the beautiful Irish girl put the 
 overdone Parisian belles into the shade ; and the coquettes of the 
 capital are indignant, while Madame Jumillac, in the second-hand 
 triumph of a chaperon, whispers to Ellen with a smile — " My dear, you 
 have conquered the conqueror," 
 
 Ellen would have given the world to escape from the theatre. A 
 host of disagreeable emotions crowded upon her ; and the natural 
 repugnance of a woman to speak of herself as the object of an unbe- 
 coming admiration, prevented relief in words. No woman of delicacy, 
 even to one of her own sex, chooses to admit that she has inspired 
 aught than an honourable passion ; and therefore Ellen preferred 
 keeping to herself the knowledge of the Marshal's atrocious attempt, 
 through his emissary at Bruges. 
 
 She knew that Madame de Jumillac was a woman of honour and 
 reputation, and that under her protection she was in security, and that 
 speaking as Madame did, she only made a sportive use of the phrase, 
 which, in that age of gallantry, meant nothing ; for where so much 
 of gallantry — not to use a stronger phrase — was then tolerated, the 
 tribute of open admiration to a lady's charms might go much further 
 without being blamed than in modern times. Ellen, therefore, sat 
 patiently under the disagreeable trial to which she was exposed, 
 though the blushes with which the concentred observation of the whole 
 theatre suffused her cheek were sufficiently painful, without the deeper 
 and hidden feeling of maiden indignation. Still, with all her desire 
 to conceal her emotion, Madame de Jumillac saw the triumph of the 
 moment was not pleasing to her whom most it concerned ; and she 
 attributed to the recluse nature of her early education this shrinking 
 from what a court -bred belle would have enjoyed. 
 
 " My love, do not think so seriously about it," said Madame de 
 Jumillac. 
 
 "Seriously, Madame!" replied Ellen, echoing the word : "how 
 could I think seriously of such folly ? " 
 
 " But it makes you uneasy :— pray be tranquil, child, or all our 
 friends will laugh at us." 
 
 " But it is such folly," said Ellen. 
 
 " My dear, such follies may sometimes be made to serve good pur- 
 poses. Remember the Marshal's enormous interest at the court at 
 this moment, and how signally he may benefit the cause of your exiled 
 king." 
 
 These words gave a new turn to Ellen's thoughts. She felt hoAV 
 much truth there was in the observation ; and in her devotion to the 
 cause of the royal Stuart her personal feelings were sunk. In that 
 
 K 2 
 
132 c£ 6*. (L 
 
 devotion she had been early instructed by her father, than whom a 
 deeper enthusiast in the cause did not exist ; and the seeds thus sown, 
 taking growth in a heart full of affection and sensibility, produced that 
 unalloyed attachment, which can supersede all selfish considerations — 
 an attachment to which the tendril nature of a woman's heart and mind 
 conduces, and has furnished so many examples of heroic self-devotion. 
 
 The thought of enchaining the Marshal to the Stuart cause in the 
 rosy bondage which Madame de Jumillac hinted, thus entered Ellen's 
 mind for an instant ; but that sanctuary was too pure to permit it to 
 remain there longer ; — its temporary admission was obtained through 
 the generosity of her disposition in preferring the cause of her king 
 to her own, but the dignity of her nature revolted at the idea, 
 and she almost blushed for herself, that any cause could have made 
 her harbour a thought repugnant to honour. In thus speaking of 
 honour, of course the word is used in its most I'ejined sense ; for Ellen 
 Lynch was too strongly fortified in virtue to feel any evil conse- 
 quences to herself from the attentions of the most accomplished roue 
 in the w^orld. She had also sufficient confidence in her own powers 
 of attraction, (of which every day gave evidence,) and reliance on a 
 sufficiency of woman's wit, to hold a hero in lier chains, if she had 
 looked upon coquetry as allowable ; but her simple dignity of nature, 
 and a deep sense of moral rectitude, were above the practice of what 
 she held to be wrong ; and even for a cause in which she would 
 willingly have laid down her life, she could not stoop to a course of 
 conduct which would have forfeited her own self-respect. She w^is 
 so absorbed in thought, that the pageant on the stage passed before her 
 eyes as unseen as though she gazed on vacancy ; her whole mind was 
 preoccupied in anticipating circumstances that chance might combine 
 to force her into intercourse with the Marshal, and forming thereupon 
 resolutions as to how she should act ; and after much consideration, 
 her final determination was, that prudence made it advisable to appear 
 unconscious of any cause of anger against the Count, should they 
 meet, and that she must rely on a punctilious politeness to protect her 
 from any advance that could offend. 
 
 This, perhaps, w^as the most delicate course she could have adopted 
 in her present situation. Her father was absent at Bourdeaux, con- 
 certing measures with an Irish merchant named Walsh, in the cause 
 of diaries Edward ; and confided, as she then was, to the protection 
 of a lady moving in the court circles, and the wife of an officer in the 
 army, it might have placed Madame in an awkward position, had 
 Ellen spoken the real state of her feelings, apd the cause ; to say 
 nothing of the repugnance already alluded to, which she entertained 
 against speaking of such matters at all. 
 
 Besides, she expected the return of her father soon, and, for a finv 
 
TREASURE TROVE. XtiS 
 
 days, she reckoned it impossible any evil could result from the silence 
 she had determined to observe. 
 
 As soon as the first act was over, the Marshal's box was crowded 
 with a succession of visitors, some few really glad to interchange 
 Avords of kindly greeting ; the man^/ proud to be seen as of his ac- 
 quaintances, thus deriving a reflected light from the star of the 
 evening. One, however, remained longer than the rest, and took a 
 seat beside the Count — it was Vojtaire. They seemed mutually 
 pleased with each other's company, and ere long the eyes of the philoso- 
 pher were turned towards the box where Ellen sat. It was the first time 
 she had seen him, and she was forcibly struck by the intellectuality of 
 that face, where keenness of perception and satire were so singularly 
 marked, while he was as much attracted by the expression of simplicity 
 with intelligence which characterised the beauty of the Irish girl. It 
 is difficult to say which had most pleasure ; she, in gazing on dis- 
 tinguished ugliness, or he in admiring the beautiful unknown. 
 
 " What are you about there, Sir Poet?" said Saxe, noticing the 
 rapt gaze of Voltaire. 
 
 " I am not a poet at present," answered he, *' but an astronomer. 
 I am making an observation on that heavenly body." 
 
 " Heavenly, you may well say I" ejaculated the Marshal. 
 
 " Your Cynosure," said Voltaire, slyly. 
 
 " I should rather call her Venus," returned the Count. 
 
 " I should think Mars,'^ said Voltaire, eyeing the Marshal, 
 " would like to be in conjunction." 
 
 " Or Mercury either," rejoined Saxe, witli a glance at the poet. 
 
 " You are getting too close to the Sun, now," answered Voltaire. 
 
 " We shall be dazzled in the light of our own metaphors, so wc 
 had better return to the earth and common sense — who is she?" 
 
 " The daughter of a Captain in the Irish brigade." 
 
 " Mafoi ! — those Irish are victorious every way. We have heard 
 wondrous rumours of them at Fontenoi, from the Stuart party 
 here." 
 
 " The fact is," said Saxe, in a whisper to the historian, — " the?/ won 
 the battle — but for Heaven's sake don't say I said so, or, you know, it 
 would not be relished in France." 
 
 " Don't fear me," said Voltaire, " I won't make either on-dit or 
 history of it.* But remnons a nos moutons— the lady is very charm- 
 ing ; I wish we had a brigade of such." 
 
 * The historian of Precis da Sieck Louis XV. kept his word. lie behaves 
 shabbily to Ireland in the account of the battle. It is from other sources we hear 
 the whole truth of the meiiiorable charge of her gallant brigade. Poor Ireland ! 
 she has so often been grudged her due by writers on all sides, that an Irishman 
 
134 £ s. d. 
 
 n 
 
 " A brigade ! " cried Saxe, in surprise ; " why, there are not as 
 many such to make it in all the world ! " 
 
 " Parhleu ! Count ! — You are positively entete on this point." 
 
 " I'm over head and ears in love with her ! " said Saxe : " I confess 
 it — and the worst of it is, she is a piece of snow." 
 
 " From the top of a mountain in Ireland," added Voltaire, with a 
 sneer. 
 
 " Provokingly pure, on my honour," said Saxe. 
 
 " But snow melts when it is no longer on the top of the mountain,** 
 said the scoffer. 
 
 ** Would I were the valley it would fall upon ! " said vSaxe. 
 
 " I should think the air of Paris sufficiently warm to thaw your 
 frozen beauty." 
 
 " She's not so easily melted, I assure you." 
 
 " She's a moman" said the leering cynic, who had no faith in any 
 virtue. 
 
 " By my faith, she has more of Diana about her than ever I met 
 yet," said Saxe. 
 
 " 'Tis most natural," returned Voltaire, '• with your love of sporting, 
 that you should liken your fair one to the hunting goddess ; but, 
 Marshal, if I mistake not, you admire the chase more than the 
 chaste.''^ 
 
 " The difference is but a letter^'' said Saxe. 
 
 " How can you say letter, in your present state of mind," said 
 Voltaire ; " you should say billet-doitoc." 
 
 " Hold ! hold !" cried Saxe, I cannot play atjeu cle mots\\\t\\ you." 
 
 Here a fresh visitor entered the box, and made his salutations to 
 the Count in the most obsequious manner. He was one of those 
 useful persons whom nobody likes, yet nobody can do without ; who 
 is always abused in his absence, but whose presence seems always 
 welcome. Who, by a species of ubiquity, is present at every party, 
 where every one votes him a bore, yet smiles at his sayings, and asks 
 him to forthcominrr fetes and suppers. He had the singularly ap- 
 propriate name of * Poterne.'' The Marshal was delighted at the sight 
 of him, shook him by the hand, and invited him to a seat. Even the 
 great Voltaire gave him a pleasant nod of recognition. 
 
 " Charmed to see you, my dear Poterne," said the Marshal. *' As 
 usual, I find you in the midst of fashion." 
 
 " And as usual, Count," returned Poterne, with a monkeyish grin, 
 " I find you worshipping beauty — " and he made a grimace, and looked 
 to the box as he spoke. 
 
 " By the bye, Poterne," said the Marshal, in a confidential whisper 
 
 is the more pardonable in picking up a cvumb for her, vrhen he can, from the 
 literary banquet. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 135 
 
 over the back of his chair^ " I wish you could find out for me where 
 Madame de Jumillac sups to-night." * 
 
 " I can tell you already," said Poterne, with a knowing look. '' I 
 thought you would like to know, so I found out and came to tell you." 
 
 " My dear Poterne, you are a treasure I " exclaimed the Count, 
 squeezing his hand in a fit of momentary friendship : " where ? — 
 where ? " 
 
 " At Madame de Montesson's." 
 
 " Bravo ! " exclaimed Saxe, " I can invite myself there." 
 
 " You need not do even that," said Poterne, with a shrug. " I 
 managed all that — the whole thing I imagined, d Vimprovise, and I 
 have just come to tell you that Madame de Montesson hopes for the 
 honour of your company." 
 
 " You are my good genius, Poterne ! " said Saxe in ecstasy ; " pray 
 bear my compliments to Madame de Montesson, and say how happy 
 I am in accepting the honour she proposes, and add that I will bring 
 with me the wit of Voltaire to season my stupidity." 
 
 The "fetch and carry rascal" departed to do his message, content 
 with being seen in close converse with the great man, as the payment 
 of his dirty work. 
 
 " Mon ami,'^ said Saxe to Voltaire, " you must come with me to 
 supper. I depend on you to engage Madame de Jumillac in con- 
 versation, while I talk to her protegee. You alone can serve me, for 
 she is given to virtue and letters — therefore you must make a diversion 
 in my favour." 
 
 " I will prevent sport being spoiled as much as possible," answered 
 his friend. 
 
 Again the door of the box was opened, and a servant in the livery 
 of the theatre made his appearance, but remained in the back-ground. 
 J " Well ?" was the brief exclamation of the soldier. 
 
 The servant still remained within the shadoAv of the back of the 
 box, and exhibited a small note. 
 
 " Give it me," said the Marshal, without leaving his seat. 
 
 The servant advanced, and placed the missive in his hands ; Saxe 
 broke the seal and read — 
 
 " Glory waits you ! 
 " Supper at 10. 
 
 " Quai d'Orfevre. " Celestine." 
 
 " A Monseigneur 
 
 " Le tres illustre 
 
 " Le Marechal 
 
 " Comte de Saxe." 
 
 * The "petits soupers " of this period were brilliant things, and matters of course 
 after the opera. 
 
136 £ S. (L 
 
 It was a note from the actress who had personated " Glory" in the 
 opera, and this very brazen invitation to supper so displeased even 
 Count de Saxe, who was not very particular, that he tore a slip from 
 the note, and, borrowing a pencil from Voltaire, wrote, 
 
 " Glory should not seek a soldier, — 
 A soldier should seek Glory." 
 
 And twisting up the paper, handed it to the servant for answer. 
 He made a low obeisance and retired ; and as he was hastening back 
 along the corridor to the stage, he was met at the head of the stair- 
 case by Adrienne le Couvreur, who arrested his further progress. 
 She had been in the auditory of the theatre, and all unseen had 
 witnessed the presentation of the laurel branch to the Marshal by 
 Celestine, who was a very pretty woman, and a desperate coquette, 
 and had avowed her determination to rival the tragic queen with the 
 gallant Marshal This demonstration had put Adrienne on the qui 
 vice, and a little ruffled her temper ; but when she saw the servant of 
 the theatre hand a note, (for with all his care to keep in the shade, the 
 vigilant eye of Adrienne saw him, and her suspicions told her his 
 mission,) her jealousy and indignation were no longer under her con- 
 trol, and instantly hurrying from her box she rushed down stairs to 
 intercept the servant, and was successful in her manoeuvre. 
 
 *•' Give me that note, sir," said Adrienne. 
 
 *' What note, Madame ? " faltered the messenger, his eyes wandering 
 from side to side as if lie dared not meet the vivid glance which was 
 fixed on him. 
 
 " You dare not look me in the face, and repeat that question," said 
 Adrienne quickly. " That note in your hand behind your back." 
 
 ^'Vraiment! Madame!" said the messenger, holding forth his 
 empty hands with a seeming candour. 
 
 " Then you have put it up your sleeve," said Adrienne. " You 
 can't impose on me — I know all about it — it is an answer to a note 
 you bore from Mademoiselle Celestine to Marshal Saxc — " 
 
 "Really, Madame!" 
 
 " I must have the note. I do not expect it for nothing ~ here," she 
 said, drawing forth her purse, and lianding the servant a couple of 
 Louis d'o7\ 
 
 " Madame ! " exclaimed the fellow in a deprecatory tone, " consider 
 my honour ! " 
 
 " "Well, sir, tell me the price of your lionour." 
 
 " Pardon me putting a price on my own honour, Madame," said the 
 fellow, with an air that was very Avhiuisical, " but 1 think a note from 
 a field marshal is worth five gold pieces." 
 
 *' There ! " said Adrienne, handing the money. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. lo7 
 
 " And now, Madame, consider my character I pray you ! For pity's 
 bake order a couple of these gentlemen to force me to deliver the 
 note," and he pointed to some of the servants of the lobby who were 
 standing near and laughing. 
 
 "You are a gentleman of the nicest punctilio!" said Adrienne, 
 smiling, and giving the order he requested to the attendants, a mock 
 scene of forcing the note from the messenger was gone through, who 
 with a tragic air wrung his hands, and swore he was in despair, while 
 Adrienne seized the billet^ and gave another Louis (Tor to the 
 attendants for their service. Hastily untwisting the chiffon^ she read 
 the Count's answer with intense delight, and observing one of the 
 principal persons in the stage direction passing at the moment, she 
 addressed him, and requested the favour of being allowed the advan- 
 tage of his private key, and being passed at once to the stage. This 
 little favour was immediately granted, and La belle Adrienne, flushed 
 with victory, and meditating vengeance, trod the boards with lofty 
 dignity, seeking for her would-be rival. Soon she espied " Glory" at 
 the front wing, surrounded by many subordinates ; and entering the 
 riitg, that at once made way for the approach of so distinguished an 
 artiste, she made a most dignified inclination of her head to Celestine, 
 and handing her the billet open, said, " Allow me the honour to 
 return Marshal Saxe's answer to your obliging invitation," laying 
 great stress on the word obliging, and making a low curtsey as she 
 spoke. 
 
 Celestine might be seen to grow pale, even through her rouge. She 
 bit her lip, and could not refrain from bursting into spiteful tears, 
 which contrasted strangely with the emblems of triumph with which 
 she was decorated. 
 
 Adrienne, with a scornful curl upon her lip, said scoflingly, " What 
 a Glory to be sure ! This is not French glory," she added, to the 
 women who stood by and enjoyed the scene : " 'tis a glory of the 
 Dutch school." 
 
 The words were received with a titter, for Celestine being rather a 
 full-blown beauty, and the Dutch behaving so dastardly at Fontenoi, 
 the words bore a double application ; and satisfied with having raised 
 the laugh against the vanquished Celestine, Adrienne returned to her 
 box, first having despatched a messenger with another note to tlie 
 Marshal. 
 
 He was much surprised to see a second theatrical messenger hand 
 him a second billet, and exchanged a laugh with Voltaire as he broke 
 the seal. The note ran as follows : — 
 
 " I am glad you are not too fond of Glory. Come sup in peace and 
 quietness with " Adrienne." 
 
 ., '^Embarras de richessel" exclaimed Saxe, with a shrug, to his 
 
138 £ A*, d. 
 
 companion, who, lending his pencil again, the Count taking a leaf from 
 a pocket-book wrote a few words to Madamoiselle le Couvreur, regret- 
 ting he could not accept her invitation for that evening, having a 
 pre-engagement. 
 
 To that engagement he looked for much gratification, and with the 
 eagerness of a new passion longed for the moment that would enable 
 him to make his compliments to Ellen, and, as soon as the opera was 
 over he lost no time in seeking his carriage, and driving with the poet 
 to the hotel of Madame de Montesson. He had but just alighted 
 when his quick eye caught sight of Ellen in the carriage that was 
 drawing up to the door, and waiting till she was going to alight, he 
 stepped forward, and offering his hand with an air of the most courtly 
 attention, he assisted Ellen from the coach, and ushered her into the 
 hall with the most respectful assurances of his great delight in having 
 the good fortune to meet her in Paris. 
 
 It was lucky that Ellen had, by anticipation, prepared herself for the 
 occasion, as it gave her an ease and composure of manner most calcu- 
 lated to serve her under the circumstances, and which rather took the 
 Count by surprise ; for where he expected a certain amount of appre- 
 hensiveness and timid reserve, which his practised address was to 
 reassure and overcome, he found a calm but faultless politeness which 
 puzzled him excessively, and induced him almost to believe that Ellen 
 could not be aware of the nature of his design at Bruges. On enter- 
 ing the drawing room where Madame de Montesson had arrived but a 
 few moments before, the Count, after paying his compliments to 
 ^ladame, followed to where Ellen had taken her seat close beside 
 Madame de Jumillac. The proximity to her chaperon prevented the 
 immediate adoption of any urgent strain of compliment which he 
 might otherwise have attempted, and he waited till the announcement 
 of supper would give him the opportunity of monopolizing her atten- 
 tion out of inconvenient ear-shot, when his friend should have drawn 
 off the elder lady to a distant corner of the table. In the meantime 
 he addressed polite inquiries after her f^ither, and took occasion to 
 flatter Ellen's nationality by high praise of the Irish brigade. Of this 
 Ellen took immediate advantage, by turning the conversation into a 
 channel the farthest remove from that into which the Count could wish 
 it to flow ; she spoke of the death of Colonel Dillon in terms of affec- 
 tionate regret, saying she knew the whole family well in Ireland, and 
 could tell the Count many anecdotes connected with their history, 
 which she had learned during her early intercourse with them in her 
 childhood, and which she was sure would interest the Count much, 
 from the great regard he was known to entertain for the late Colonel. 
 
 The Count protested the most devoted friendship, but would have 
 willingly made the anecdotes a present to his Satanic majesty: but so 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 139 
 
 well did Ellen feign great interest in the recital, that he was bound to 
 hear without the opportunity of saying one gallant thing till supper 
 was announced. 
 
 "Now," thought Saxe, "my time is come," as he offered his 
 urm to I Mademoiselle, and led her from the drawing-room, while 
 Voltaire held the delighted Madame Jumillac, proud of the poet's 
 attention, one of the last to leave the salon. 
 
 The Count seated himself at supper most favourably for his purpose, 
 and was studious in his attentions to Ellen, who, having worn out the 
 Dillons, bethought her of a new subject. She, after some preliminary 
 askings of thousands of pardons, et cetera — hoped the Count would 
 excuse her if, as he had already spoken of the brigade, and so far 
 touched on public affairs, he would allow her to mention the cause 
 dearest to her heart. 
 
 The Count here edged in some speech about hearts in general, 
 and her heart in particular, at which Ellen only smiled, and said a 
 woman never could make use of the word * heart,' but the gentleman 
 beside her thought it his bounden duty to make love on the spot. " But 
 I absolve you from that duty. Count," said Ellen, " you know the 
 cause I mean is that of my king, — what think you of his prospects ? 
 brightly I trust." 
 
 Hereupon she engaged the Count on the business of the Pretender 
 during the whole of supper, that is to say, the eating part of it, when 
 people are so engaged in their own immediate interests that they care 
 very little about their neighbour's doings, and, therefore, such time is 
 the most propitious to a tender tete-a-tete, when well managed by a 
 practised cavalier ; but so quickly did Ellen put question after question, 
 and suggest fresh and sensible matter for discussion, that all the * soft 
 nonsense^ the Count had hoped to utter, he was forced to keep to him- 
 self. The business of supper advanced — the champagne circulated — 
 conversation grew brisker — laughing more frequent, as if mirth and 
 champagne had been bottled together, and every cork that popped 
 out emancipated hilarity. And now, what sharp ringing laughter 
 comes from the other end of the table ! — 'tis the tribute to the pleasan- 
 tries of Voltaire, who, in endeavouring to enchain the attention of 
 Madame de Jumillac, (quietly though he does it,) enchains the attention 
 of all besides — for Madame's laughter attracts notice — 'tis something 
 Voltaire has said has made her laugh — who would not like to hear 
 Voltaire's hon-7nots ? — all became attentive by degrees. The Count 
 now thinks his time has arrived — he makes a desperate dash at com- 
 pliment, and hopes to have Ellen all to himself ; but she, with a well 
 acted air of innocent rudeness, turns to him and says, " Oh, Count — 
 pray don't talk now — I want to hear Monsieur de Voltaire," — then 
 
HO £ S. (I 
 
 suddenly stopping, as if she recollected herself, she said, — " Marshal, 
 I beg your pardon — I fear I have been very rude." 
 
 " By no means ! " said Saxe, with a smile, though he really was very 
 much stung — wished Voltaire where the whole Catholic church wished 
 him — and vowed in his inmost heart he would never call upon a wit 
 to help him when he wanted to make himself agreeable. 
 
 Voltaire had now every eye and ear devoted to him, and after a 
 brilliant hour, the jjetU souper broke up. 
 
 ►Saxe handed Ellen to her carriage, without having advanced his 
 position one step since he handed her out of it. 
 
 " Well," said Voltaire, as he drove away with the Marshal from the 
 house, "how have you fought your battle ?" 
 
 " Never was so beaten in my life," said Saxe. " That girl is either 
 the most innocent or the cleverest woman I ever met." 
 
TREASURE TROVE. HI 
 
 i 
 
 CHAPTER XVr. 
 
 The day following, when Madame de Jumillac and Ellen met at 
 breakfast, the latter complained of head-ache. This was true, but not 
 quite to the extent that Ellen feigned. The excitement of the previous 
 evening was sufficient to account for the throbbing of her temples, but 
 the pulsation under ordinary circumstances would not have been suffi- 
 cient to make her forego a very gay/e/e champetre given that day in 
 the neighbourhood of Paris ; but, as she had heard over-uight that 
 Marshal Saxe was to be present, she made her head-ache serve a good 
 turn for once, and excused herself on that score from being of the 
 party. 
 
 " My dear child, the air would do you good," said Madame de 
 Jumillac. 
 
 " Not to-day, dear Madame — I feel it is too bad a pain to play with." 
 
 "And such a charming party too!" added Madame. 
 
 " So charming, " said Ellen, with a sweet smile of suffering, " that 
 they won't miss me." 
 
 " Dear girl, half my pleasure will be gone if I have not you with 
 me." 
 
 " I am sorry, dear Madame, to deprive you of any pleasure, but pray 
 enjoy the other half without me." 
 
 It was in vain that Madame de Jumillac urged arguments or per 
 suasions or coaxings. Ellen would not go ; and, therefore, when in 
 due time the carriage was announced to be at the door, Madame de 
 Jumillac was destined to be the sole occupant, and drove to the fite- 
 cliampetre alone. 
 
 On arriving at the tasteful chateau where the fete was held, 
 Madame de Jumillac was accosted by many a gallant cavalier as she 
 sauntered through the shady walks and gaily dressed bosquets of the 
 pleasure-grounds, and the salutation graciously tendered to her always 
 finished by an inquiry after Mademoiselle, whose companionship in the 
 dance was ever held a high favour. On hearing that a slight head- 
 aclie was the cause of her absence, there were a thousand " pities ! " 
 uttered ; — some hundred were " very sorry " — and about Mty " in 
 despair ;" — nevertheless, they nil contrived to enjoy themselves. It 
 
142 dj S. d. 
 
 was when she was almost wearied out with the eternal regrets of all 
 her friends at the non-appearance of her protegee that Madame dc 
 Jumillac saw the Marshal Saxe passing through a crowd of distin- 
 guished persons to make his respects. After observing all that 
 courtesy could desire to a lady of her time of life ; in short, paying 
 the octroi that is due at the gates of the chajwron before you can deal 
 for the goods that lie within her circumvallation, the Count made a 
 polite inquiry after Mademoiselle de Lynch, and Madame de Jumillac 
 thought he exhibited more real emotion when he heard that poor Ellen 
 was all alone at home, than any person who had heard of her indispo- 
 sition. And true it was that the Count did exhibit more emotion — 
 but it was emotion arising from very different causes than those for 
 which Madame de Jumillac gave him credit ; — 'twas an emotion which 
 his quick spirit of stratagem excited ; for, in this circumstance, he 
 perceived a chance of obtaining a tete-a-tete with Ellen, and deter- 
 mined at once to act on the suggestion of the moment ; therefore 
 bowing and smiling his way towards the point of egress, he seized a 
 favourable opportunity to retire, and finding his carriage himself, 
 without making the eclat of having it called, he was driven back to 
 Paris with all speed. 
 
 Ellen, in the hours of Madame de Jumillac's absence, had devoted 
 her time to reading a heap of old letters, some of which (in the accu- 
 mulation that time will bring) it became necessary to destroy ; as, in 
 the rambling life she was forced to lead by her father's occupation, the 
 most portable luggage was of importance. Perhaps there is no sadder 
 occupation than reading old letters — particularly where you are obliged 
 to burn some of them. Sometimes their words recall pleasures of the 
 past — such pleasures as you feel you may never taste again, — some- 
 times assurances of affection, or some expression of sympathetic endear- 
 ment which you are loth to destroy, and Avhich you read over and over 
 again before the paper is given to the flames, — sometimes a trait of 
 unlooked-for friendship — of distant kindliness that has cheered when 
 most we wanted, and in some desolate hour had made us feel we are 
 not forgotten. Such are the things that render old letters dear, and 
 make the burning of them painful. The ancients used to keep the 
 ashes of the dead in urns. Might we not do the same by letters ? 
 
 It was in the midst of such employment — her mind attuned to the 
 tenderest pitch of sentiment, that Ellen was startled by the loud rattle 
 of a carriage and a commanding knock at the door ; and in a few 
 seconds afterwards, the door of the sitting-room she occupied was 
 thrown open, and a servant announced Marshal Saxe, who approached 
 Ellen with the most courteous ceremonials, but at the same time with 
 a devotion of manner far above the level of common-place politeness, 
 and which no woman could mistake. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 143 
 
 '' Mademoiselle," said the Marshal, *' I have hurried hither from a 
 scene of pleasure, where I went in the hope of seeing you ; you being 
 absent, it was no longer a scene of pleasure to me ; and I came to 
 throw myself at your feet, and tell you so." 
 
 Ellen was so taken by surprise at this sudden avowal, that it abso- 
 lutely took away her breath, and she could not answer ; while the 
 Count, profiting by her silence, poured forth a voluble flood of pas- 
 sionate protestation. At length Ellen, recovering her self-possession, 
 though still pale with mingled alarm and indignation, answered ; her 
 voice, though less sweet, retained all its clearness, and fell with that 
 cutting distinctness which irony imparts. 
 
 *' Count," she said, " I must suppose you have been at a masquerade ; 
 and, retaining the spirit of the scene you have quitted, have come 
 here but to mock me." 
 
 " No mockery, by Heaven !" exclaimed Saxe, " and you know it, 
 lovely one ! Did you not see, last night, how I was watching for one 
 look of tenderness at the theatre, which you refused to grant ? Did you 
 not see, in the midst of all that engaging scene, my thoughts were wholly 
 yours ? Why were you so cruel ? Could you not afford one kind 
 look ?" 
 
 " Sir," said Ellen, *' in the midst of that scene of your triumph 
 I should have thought it a vain and unseemly intrusion had so humble 
 a person as I am dared to claim your attention." 
 
 " Humble person ! — scene of triumph !" exclaimed the Count, 
 echoing the words — " yours is Nature's nobility ; and as for triumph 
 — I swear to you, by a soldier's honour, that, in the midst of all the 
 flattery showered on me last night, I had no thought but you. The 
 applauding shouts of all France would charm me less than one sigh of 
 yours — if I might win it." 
 
 He fell on his knees, as he passionately uttered these words, and 
 seizing Ellen's hand, impressed several kisses upon it. 
 
 After a momentary struggle she disengaged her hand, and the tone 
 of irony was instantly changed to that of dignity ; and as her noble 
 brow was slightly knit, and her bright eye dilated with emotion, she 
 said — " You have spoken of a soldier's honour. Sir. — Remember, I am 
 a soldier's daughter, and that his honour is involved in mijie. I hope 
 I need say no more." She was rising to leave the room, but the 
 Count, again seizing her hand, retained her in her seat. 
 
 " You must not leave me thus ! — not without some word of hope 
 to me—" 
 
 " What would my father say. Sir, if he saw you kneeling at my 
 feet?" 
 
 " It is not what your father would say I want to know — but what 
 his daughter would say," returned the unabashed Marshal ; " hy 
 
14 4 ' £ S, d. 
 
 Heaven, you tire the most enchanting creature in the world I — my 
 angel —my goddess — my — " 
 
 Thus was the Marshal pouring forth his raptures — attempting to 
 kiss Ellen's hand between every two words, Avlien she became alarmed 
 at his impetuosity, and bethought her of a stratagem to relieve herself 
 from her painful predicament. Feigning a new apprehension, she held 
 up her finger in token of silence, and exclaimed softly — " Hush !" — 
 affecting then to listen for a moment, she muttered quickly — " 'tis lie I 
 — I am lost ! — Oh, Count, if you would not have my future prospects 
 utterly destroyed, pray conceal yourself for a moment ; if you are seen 
 here I am ruined." 
 
 " Where shall I hide ?" exclaimed the Count, springing to his feet. 
 
 " Here ! " said Ellen, opening the door of a china closet. 
 
 " Oh, you rogue !" said the Count, laughing, and looking archly at 
 her, as he obeyed her command, and entered the open portal. 
 
 " You dreadful man ! " said Ellen, with a coquettish air, as she was 
 shutting him in. 
 
 *' Remember you owe me something for this," said Saxe, popping 
 out his head. 
 
 " Take care ! " said Ellen, affecting alarm — " be quick ! " 
 • Saxe entered the closet, and Ellen locked the door upon him, and 
 withdrew the key. Then throwing a light mantle round her, and 
 casting a veil over her head, she hastened down stairs, and entering 
 the Marshal's carriage, which stood at the door, ordered the coachman 
 to drive back to the chateau where the fete was held. Here she was 
 soon enabled to find Madame de Jumillac, to whom she communicated 
 what had happened — briefly relating the Bruges adventure, and giving 
 her reasons for the silence she had observed on the subject. " But 
 now," said Ellen, " I am convinced nothing will cure him but to make 
 a scoff of his gallantry : — he is locked up in the china closet — here is 
 the key. I leave his exposure to you, Madame, the sanctity of whose 
 roof he has dared to set at nought." 
 
 Madame de Jumillac was deeply indignant at the Maj-shal's conduct ; 
 and quite approving of the punishment Ellen proposed, bethought her 
 how she could make it most severe. She determined his own parti- 
 cular friends should be the witnesses of his discomfiture, as well as 
 hers to bear evidence of the afiinr, and with this view she sought for 
 Voltaire and Poterne ; for anything in which Voltaire bore a part 
 must become celebrated ; and Poterne was the man of all men to give 
 currency to a piece of scandal. Having found them, Madame pro- 
 mised them a piece of the richest ridicule they ever witnessed if they 
 would come with her ; and so successfully piqued their curiosity, that 
 the wit and the talebearer joined her party back to Paris, whither they 
 speedily drove. 
 
'S-^QM-^iT:^ 
 
 K^A^ .^4la//J^,^/Z^ A€^i^>tZy(^: 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 145 
 
 In the meanwhile the gallant Saxe remained locked up in the china 
 closet — not the first, by many a dozen, he had been in — exulting in the 
 success of his bold move : for the moment a lady proposed to conceal 
 him, he was sure he had triumphed. He looked upon a china closet 
 as the very citadel of love, which having carried, it was his to propose 
 the terms. Not that he imagined the lady in this case would have 
 yielded so soon. He thought her the very slyest person he had ever 
 encountered, and set her conduct down as one of those strange 
 varieties of the sex, of whose caprice he had such extensive expe- 
 rience ; but this example, he admitted, surpassed by far any he had 
 hitherto met ; and he laughed to himself at the sudden turn affairs 
 had taken. She all honour and indignation ; and then, in a moment, 
 is proposed a china closet. "Capital!" thought Saxe — "capital ! — to 
 be sure, she would not have yielded so soon, I dare say, if she had not 
 heard her other lover on the stairs, and dreaded my being discovered. 
 Good ! — her other lover — and she playing injured innocence all the 
 time — and at a word proposes a china closet ! Oh, woman ! woman ! ! 
 woman ! ! ! " 
 
 Such were Saxe's reveries (though they have not appeared among 
 his 2^uhUshed ones,) while he was awaiting liberation and love. He 
 began to get very impatient, however, towards the end of his imprison- 
 ment ; and it was with no small satisfaction, after the lapse of a couple 
 of hours, that he heard a tap at the door, and Ellen's sweet cautious 
 whisper outside. After some soft mumblings through the keyhole, 
 the key is employed, the door is opened, and forth pops the Count, 
 expecting to embrace a charming girl, when, to his horror, he sees a 
 grotip of his particular friends, who are as much surprised as he, for 
 Madame de Jumillac had not told the nature of her piece of ridicule, 
 nor the name of the principal actor. 
 
 Madame de Jumillac advanced with an air of serious dignity, and 
 said — 
 
 " Marshal, I hope this lesson will prove to you that there are some 
 virtuous women in the world. That you should offer an affront to a 
 young lady under my protection, at once grieves and surprises me ; 
 and I think your violation of my house justifies the severe revenge I 
 have taken in thus exposing your defeat to the world." 
 
 Saxe looked, first very foolish, and then very angry, as he saw every 
 one grinning ridicule upon him, and knew the story would be all over 
 Paris next day. Poterne was the only looker-on who did not enjoy 
 it ; he was really sorry to be made an unpleasant sight to a great man, 
 and advancing with a cringe towards the Count, requested him to 
 believe that he had no idea he was the person engaged, or he would 
 not for the world have been of the party. 
 
 The Count only pushed him aside, with a hnlf-miittercd malediction, 
 
14(> £ s. cL 
 
 as he passed towards the door, near which Voltaire was standing 
 looking on in ecstasy. 
 
 " My dear Count," said Voltaire, with a smile of malicious delight, 
 and a tone which clearly implied he did not mean a particle of what 
 he said, " you may be certain / will not mention one word of this 
 affair." 
 
 " Of course not," answered Saxe in a corresponding tone. " I dare 
 say I shall have an epigram at breakfast to-morrow." 
 
 " Unless you would like it better at supper to-night," replied his 
 friend. 
 
 "Plague take you !" muttered Saxe. "As for you, ladies," he 
 added, with a severity on his brow that seldom sat there, "since 
 you have chosen to play at lock and key with me, I beg to remind 
 you that two can play at that game, and perhaps my locks and keys 
 may be stronger than yours." 
 
 He left the room as he spoke, and the spirit of jest was chilled 
 under the teri'ible influence of his words. An involuntary shudder 
 passed through the heart of every woman in the room ; for Saxe, hero 
 as he was in the field, was known to have been, on occasions, very 
 unscrupulous about the means of indulging any and all of his passions, 
 and the fearful httre de cachet had been employed by him more than 
 once to accomplish his purposes. With such reminiscences on the 
 minds of all, the reconnoitring party of Madame de Jumillac broke up 
 suddenly, and with that embarrassment which the dread of something 
 unpleasant produces ; and the affair of the china closet did not turn 
 out so good a joke as was expected to the parties who made it, though 
 Paris laughed at it considerably ; and Saxe's prediction was fulfilled 
 by his receiving a note next morning, containing the following epi- 
 gram : — 
 
 " Love's empire is celestial ! — Yes ! 
 And so is China. Count, confess." 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 147 
 
 CHAPTER XVIT. 
 
 It is necessary, now, to return to the fortunes of Ned and Finch, 
 whom we left in London, after assisting in the escape of O'Hara and 
 Kirwan, who, it has been seen, got out of England in safety. 
 
 The rescue of prisoners from the Swiss guard made a great commo- 
 tion in London. It gave a colour to those who wished to carry high- 
 handed measures, for the exercise of the law in its greatest severity 
 against all those who had the misfortune to fall within its compass ; 
 and tirades were uttered by the upholders of government against the 
 daring disaffection of the times, when state-prisoners were rescued in 
 open day from the king's soldiers. At the moment the circumstance 
 occurred, the Privy Council were quite taken by surprise, on hearing 
 of so bold a movement of the mob, and they instantly set measures on 
 foot to inquire into the circumstances of the case, and punish the 
 guilty, if they could be discovered. Knowing that some sailors had 
 been the instigators of the riot, and that they had issued from a certain 
 tavern, an order of the Council was despatched to the magistracy, 
 to make diligent inquiry at this house of entertainment, touching the 
 offence and its perpetrators. 
 
 It was not long, therefore, ere Mrs. Banks had a domiciliary visit 
 from Sir Thomas de Veil, (an active magistrate of that day,) and a 
 posse of constables, who searched the house, high and low, for any 
 against whom suspicion could rest, of having taken part in the riot. 
 Mrs. Banks, of course^ knew nothing about any of the party ; they 
 were, according to her account, a pack of noisy sailors, not one of whom 
 she had ever seen before, and devoutly hoped never to see again. She 
 would have been the last woman, so she would, to let an enemy of the 
 king, God bless him ! into her house. She harbour rebels ! — no, no — 
 she knew better than that ; — what would become of her licence if she 
 would permit such goings on ! 
 
 In the midst of her torrent of eloquence, the officer who commanded 
 the guard, and who had accompanied the magistrate, caught sight of 
 Phaidrig, and pointed him out as having been in the window of the 
 tavern while the affair was transacting, at which he seemed in great 
 
 L 2 
 
14S - £ s, (L 
 
 delight, and that he was playing on his pipes at the time, as if to 
 encourage the rioters, and yelling forth some most unearthly cries, 
 enough to make one's heart sink in their bodies. 
 
 The fact was, Phaidrig had been lilting one of the wildest of the 
 pipe war-tunes, and shouting the battle cry of "Kierawaun aboo," 
 during the fray ; and when this fact was brought home to him before 
 Sir Thomas de Veil, all Phaidrig had for it was to mystify the magis- 
 trate as much as possible. 
 
 '* What were you playing on the pipes for, sirrah ?" asked Sir 
 Thomas, fiercely. 
 
 " That's my business, your honour." 
 
 " You had no business, sirrah, to be playing when rebels were im- 
 peding the king's officers." 
 
 " I beg pardon, your honour. I had no business, it's thrue for you ; 
 and when I said business, it was all through modesty." 
 
 " How do you mean modesty, sir ?" 
 ^ " Why, your honour, I said business, when, in fact, I should have 
 said profession, and that was all through modesty ; for mine is a pro- 
 fession, I being a musicianer." 
 
 " You're an Irishman," I perceive. 
 
 " Faix, I am." 
 
 " Then you're a papist ?" 
 
 " No, sir — I'm a piper." 
 
 " No quibbling, sir : a piper must have a religion." 
 
 " Excuse me, your honour— pipers never has any religion at all; 
 they must make themselves plazing to all companies." 
 
 " Then are you a heathen, you vagabond ?" 
 
 " No, your honour — I'm only a pagan." 
 
 " Dare you acknowledge yourself a pagan in my presence, sirrah?" 
 
 "To be sure, your honour : there's no law agin pagans ; it's only 
 agin Christians the laws is." 
 
 " But there are laws against unbelievers, villain ! " 
 
 " That'll do me no harm, your honour, for I believe every thing." 
 
 Here some persons amongst the many who were listening to 
 Phaidrig's examination, laughed, which was all Phaidrig wanted ; for 
 nothing alters the features of a serious examination so much as a hue 
 of ridicule cast over it. 
 
 "But you were of the party of the sailors, however," said Sir 
 Thomas. " Did he not come with them ?" added he, addressing Mrs. 
 Banks. 
 
 " To be sure I did," said Phaidrig, before she could answer. 
 
 " Silence, sirrah ! I did not ask you— but the woman of the 
 house." 
 
 " He did come with them, 3^our worship," answered Mrs. Banks. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 149 
 
 " See there !" exclaimed Phaidrig triumphantly — *' I tow Id you 
 so ; do you think I want to tell you a lie ? " 
 
 " Then if you came with them, you must know something of 
 them," said the magistrate. " Who are they?" 
 
 " Not a one o' me knows," returned Phaidrig. 
 
 " How did you come into their company ? " 
 
 " I did not come into their company at all. It was they took me 
 into their company agin my will." 
 
 " How did that happen ? " 
 
 " Why, your honour, it's'a long story, but PU make it as short as I 
 can. You see they are wild divils of sailors that was out looking 
 over the wide ocean for the, Spaniards, to rob and murdher them, ac- 
 cordin' to rayson, as your honour knows, is only right and proper, 
 and so comin' back, tliey wer dhruv in by hard weather to Galway 
 bay, which is the finest bay in the world, and came into the town of 
 Galway, which is the finest town in the world, barrin' this town of 
 London, of which your honour's glory is a chief governor, and long 
 life to you. Well, I must tell you, sir, the Galway people is very 
 proud of being descinded from the Spaniards, and they are always 
 braggin' of it evermore, and by my sowl, when the wild divils o* 
 sailors heerd the Galway people, one and all, saying they wor 
 Spaniards, the sailors swore they would thrate them as sitch. And 
 sure enough they lived at free quarters, and robbed right and left, 
 and not a thing in the town they took a fancy too they wouldn't take 
 without have your lave or by your lave ; and among other things, 
 sure they took a fancy to me, God help me ! and took me a prisoner, 
 and made me play for them mornin' noon and night, and divil a penny 
 they paid me ; and not contint with that, nothing v/ould sarve them 
 but to carry me ofi" in the ship with them all the way here, sore agin 
 my will, and when I said I wouldn't play for them, they said they'd 
 hang me — and I b'lieve they'd ha' kept their word, for I don't think 
 any thing is too hot or too heavy for them." 
 
 " Well then," said Sir Thomas, hoping to incite Phaidrig through 
 personal motives to disclose all he knew, " you have a heavy charge 
 to make against these men ; and if you can only bring all, or any of 
 ihem to justice, they shall be punished, and I will endeavour to obtain 
 for you ample compensation for the loss you have sustained." 
 
 " Long may 'jou. reign, my Lord ! " exclaimed Phaidrig ; " it's the 
 first word of pity or justice I have heerd for many a day." 
 
 "Then you'll swear against them for this offence?" said Sir 
 Thomas. 
 
 " I'll swear sthrong agin them ! " thundered Phaidrig. 
 
 " You know their names, I suppose ? " 
 
 " 'T would be hard for me to forget them, for they had the queerest 
 
150 £ s. (L 
 
 names I ever heerd of with cat or dog. One fellow was called 
 ' Bumbo,' and another * Nosey;' and there was ' Dasher,' and ' Slasher,' 
 and * Smasher.' " 
 
 " These are not surnames," said Sir Thomas. 
 
 " No, your honour, but they had very fine surnames with them 
 for all that. There was * Alexander.' " 
 
 " Alexander is a Christian name," remarked the magistrate. 
 
 " No, your honour, beggin' your pardon, this Alexander wasn't a 
 Christian name, but an owld anshint name — it was Alexandher the 
 Grate they meant all the time, together with Pompey, and Saizer, 
 and Nickydemus." 
 
 *' But these are not surnames. Were there"not amongst the crew 
 some one of the name of * Smith,' ' Brown,' or * Jones,' or some such 
 name ? " 
 
 " No, your honour ; I never heerd sitch a name at all. There was 
 only one smith aboord, and he " 
 
 " There, now, you are contradicting yourself," said Sir Thomas, 
 hastily. " You said you never heard such a name on board as Smith, 
 and in the next breath you acknowledge tliere was a Smith on board." 
 
 " Yis, your honour," returned Phaidrig, in a most soothing tone of 
 voice, " so there was a Smith — that is what I was going to tell 
 your honour ; but _that Smith was a Uachsmith, that they had to 
 make and mend iron things when they wor broke with fightin', or 
 storms, or the like." 
 
 " Then you never heard regular English surnames amongst them ?' 
 
 " No, indeed, sir. My own j)rivate opinion is, they thought it 
 better to leave their names behind them when they went to saa, for 
 their doings there was not likely to do their names any credit ; and 
 maybe they thought it would be saving the magisthraits throuble to 
 make themselves as little known as possible." 
 
 " Ah — I see — each man was provided with an alias." 
 
 " I can't say I ever heerd of sitch a thing among them, sir." 
 
 " I mean they all had nicknames." 
 
 " Faith they had ; and owld Nick himself never gave his name to 
 more desarving childhre, for they are the gratest set o' divils I ever 
 came across. Oh, your honour, won't you do me justice, and sthrive 
 and nab them, and get me my lawful due agin them ?" 
 
 " What can I do, when you can give no clue ? — You don't know 
 anything of them." 
 
 " That's thrue, your honour ; and I wish I knew less. Oh, weira ! 
 weira ! — ruined I am. Maybe it's your honour could give me a thrifle 
 o' money to take me home to Ireland ? " 
 
 Sir Thomas did not relish tliis proposal, and asked, had the piper 
 no friend in London ? He answered, by asking, how could he have 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 151 
 
 one in a city where lie had first set his foot that morning ? The 
 magistrate asked, by what conveyance he came to London ? Phaidrig 
 answered, " by the river." The functionary demanded the name of 
 the ship. Phaidrig replied that the desperadoes had quitted their 
 own ship a long way off, and came up the river in a smaller one, the 
 name of which he did not know. To various other questions tending 
 to find a clue to the sailors, Phaidrig pleaded his blindness, as pre- 
 venting his making the observations other men, blessed with a sense 
 of vision, could ; and continued, by his seemingly simple and queer 
 answ^ers, to baflle all the efforts of the magistrate to implicate him in 
 the transaction, or to make him implicate others. Sir Thomas de Veil 
 and his satellites departed, and left Phaidrig to the care of the kind 
 widow, who was right well pleased when she saw the authorities re- 
 cross her threshold, and charmed with Phaidrig for his address 
 throughout the affair. 
 
 " You are staunch and true and right honest !" said JVIrs. Bankt^, 
 " and it is a pity so clever a fellow should want his eyes." 
 
 " 'Tis a loss to me, ma'am, certainly," said Phaidrig, with an air of 
 gallantry, " since it deprives me of the pleasure of seeing you." 
 
 " Ah, you rogue," said the widow, " you have a tongue worth more 
 than a pair of eyes. Isn't it enough to have talked over Sir Thomas 
 de Veil, without palavering me ? " 
 
 "Veal, is it, you call that janius ?" said Phaidrig. " Faix, he'll 
 never be veal till he's dead." 
 
 " You mean, he's a calf while he's alive," said Mrs. Banks. 
 
 " Mrs. Banks, ma'am," answered the piper, " you're a mighty purty- 
 spokcn, sinsible woman." 
 
 Here their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Finch 
 and Ned, no longer in their rough sailor's trim, but rather handsomely 
 dressed in laced coats, embroidered waistcoats, and the rest of their 
 attire correspondingly beauish. Mrs. Banks w^as rather surprised at 
 the sudden metamorphosis, which Finch readily explained. 
 
 " You see, mother, the sooner I cast my sea-skin the better, after 
 the row ; so I took the loan of a handful of doubloons from one of the 
 Jacks, and at a respectable establishment of cast-off finery, rigged 
 myself and friend afresh, and under our new canvass the sharpest 
 thief-catcher in England would not know us." 
 
 " But you do look handsome, captain ! " exclaimed the widow. 
 
 " Yes, the clothes are not much the w^orse for wear — they'll do well 
 enough for a turn on shore." 
 
 " And the young gentleman, too, becomes the fine clothes well ; — 
 my certie ! but he has a nice leg of his own." 
 
 " Hold up your head, Ned," said Finch, laughing, " here's money 
 bid for you ! And now, mother, a word with you in private : this 
 
152 £ S. d, 
 
 day's rough work is like to turn out well for me, if I can make all 
 things requisite ^^. A few of these bold dogs, who left you to-day in 
 such a hurry without paying their score, are going to fit out a slasliing 
 privateer to cruise against the Spaniards, and if I can lay down some 
 rhino in the common stock, I can have a share, and then my fortune's 
 made, — now, mother, you told me you can let me have the cash I lent 
 you—" 
 
 " And a hundred more I told you, if you like." 
 
 " So you did, mother, like a good soul as you are ; but the matter 
 is, can you spare it ? — not but that I'll pay it back again all safe to 
 you, but do not inconvenience yourself for me — that's all." 
 
 " Lor ! Captain, wouldn't I lay down my life, let alone my money, 
 for you ! But consider, my dear captain, this fighting work is very 
 terrible, and maybe you may lose your precious life, and then what's 
 all the money in the world to you — or to me either, indeed? — for I 
 should break my heart, I think, if anything happened to you." 
 
 '' As for that. Mother Banks, have no care. Thrashing the 
 Spaniards is simple work — -just as easy as paying out cable." 
 
 " But a bullet may reach you as well as another ; for somebody must 
 be killed in these affairs." 
 
 " I may get a hole in my jacket, certainly, mother, but I might get 
 run over on shore — or my head split with a falling tile from a house- 
 top ; or my windpipe slit by some of your city Mohawks as I'm going 
 home some night. We must all die, mother, some time or other ; and 
 I'd rather have a bullet out of one of those nice long smooth Spanish 
 guns — " 
 
 " Lor ! don't talk so, Captain ! " exclaimed the widow, writhing as 
 if she felt a bullet had gone through her. 
 
 " I'd rather die at sea than ashore any day ; and if so be in fighting 
 the Dons, all the sweeter. I hate 'em ! Zooks ! I could eat a 
 Spaniard without salt. And as for plundering them on the highseas, 
 I tliink it a good deed." 
 
 " No doubt^of it. Captain, as long as you come home safe." 
 
 " No more o' that palaver, mother ; I don't tliink my yarn is quite 
 spun yet. The money I can have, you say." 
 
 " Whenever you like. Captain. May Heaven preserve you ! " 
 
 " Fiddle-de-dee, mother ! — Come, Ned, we'll have a jolly day of it ; 
 I'll show you a good week's sport on shore before we go afloat again — 
 for afloat we do go, lad ; it's all right ! — the mother here, bless her — " 
 and he gave her a hearty kiss as he spoke — " she'll furnish the cash, 
 as I knew she would ; so we're before the wind again, hurra !" He 
 snapped his fingers above his head gleefully, and tucking Ned's arm 
 within his own, forth they sallied on the town to have surfeit of 
 amusement. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 153 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 In about a fortnight after their London adventure, Finch and Ned 
 were at Portsmouth, where the privateer lay, in which they were 
 going to seek their fortune. In playing this game, in this particular 
 way, many hundreds of Englishmen were at the moment engaged ; 
 and even some of the Irish ports sent out cruisers against the Spaniards, 
 so infatuated had the whole kingdom become with the spirit of priva- 
 teering. In England it was a perfect rage at the time ; scarcely a port 
 that had not her little cruiser out to harass the enemy in detail along 
 their coasts, and make them suffer in their minor merchant trade, while 
 many a dashing craft of heavier metal scoured the ocean in search of 
 larger and more valuable prizes. In this pursuit, not merely the love 
 of gain inspired the undertakers ; a deep and rooted hatred to the 
 Spaniards rendered them more energetic in their measures, and the 
 British pride, so long wounded by the right of search which Spain, in 
 all her treaties, continued to enforce along the coasts of South America, 
 found balm in this opportunity of wreaking vengeance on an arrogant 
 foe, now that the king had declared war by the reluctant advice of his 
 ministers, who were almost forced by popular clamour to that measure, 
 the public indignation being roused to its highest pitch of fever by the 
 accounts constantly brought home by almost every British ship that 
 traded to the West Indies, of the insults and cruelties exercised upon 
 them by the Spanish Guarda Castas in those seas. 
 
 It sounds strange to English ears, in these triumphant days of our 
 navy, to hear that right of search was ever submitted to by us ; but 
 the fact was, that our ships of war were then very inferior to those of 
 other powers — particularly those of Spain, at that day the first in the 
 world ; and the scientific writers of England on the subject lament 
 the inferior build and power of our vessels which, in all their classes, 
 were so weak in comparison with the enemy's, that it was overtaxing 
 tlie valour of British seamen to expect them to cope with such fearful 
 odds against them ; and though they kept the British flag of that day 
 untarnished, yet they could not add many laurels to the national wreath 
 of glory, inasmuch as that in some instances, when an English ship 
 had absolutely beaten a Spaniard, she was not strong enough to take 
 possession of her, from sheer want of the proper power belonging to 
 lier class. 
 
154 £ s. d. 
 
 Tlws was a cause of much national vexation, and was attributed to 
 tlie love of having an army in Flanders on the part of the king, instead 
 of triumphant fleets at sea. And when the activity and courage of 
 privateers were so successful, these deeds of daring on the ocean were 
 welcomed by the people with a rejoicing, which, in other times, might 
 not have been given to such a questionable mode of warfare ; and the 
 taijit of piracy which, to a certain extent, must ever tarnish privateer- 
 ing glory, however brilliant, was overlooked at a time when vengeance 
 upon an enemy was the predominant feeling. 
 
 So thoroughly did this sentiment pervade all the seaports, that the 
 crew of a privateer were held rather in more repute than a man-o'- 
 war's-man, and the chances of rich plunder held out to all able hands 
 engaging in the service, brought the most dashing fellows flocking to 
 the privateer flag ; insomuch, that if a group of particularly fine sea- 
 men were walking up the main street of a seaport town, it was 
 reckoned certain a privateer was in the harbour. Then, while all the 
 men of the port liked them for the cause they were engaged in, the 
 women admired them for their good looks; and the little boys, who are 
 always glad of any excuse to make a noise, used to go hurraing 
 after them up and down. 
 
 Thus it was that Finch and Ned and their companions were 
 greeted as they paraded Portsmouth in very trim attire; and when 
 their equipment was complete, and their beautiful craft, the Vulture, 
 (a snow) had her *blue peter' flying, swarms of boats put off from 
 shore, and cheered her as she made sail. Thus it was, that with 
 the good wishes of all England, and a favouring breeze, Ned was 
 afloat again, and yet he was not quite happy. He could not divest 
 himself of the idea that privateering was only a sort of licensed robbery, 
 far worse than smuggling, which was illegal. Whatever is wrong in 
 smuggling, its evil effects are not so immediately apparent, and ai'e 
 spread over a wider and less tangible surface; whereas, in the case of 
 the privateer, the success of the victor can only be based on the 
 immediate loss — perhaps ruin — of some very few : and thus, the 
 wrong being more apparent, is more startling, particularly to a nature 
 like Ned's, where sensibility and want of reflection were so dangerously 
 blended. But the old temptation lured him on : — the phantom which 
 love prompted him to pursue. " Riches and Ellen," cried hope. 
 What chance had a whisper of conscience after the 'S'oice of the 
 charmer?" So bracing himself up for the consequences he had 
 determined to dare, he bade conscience be silent — he looked onward 
 over the bows of the bounding bark, that was cleaving her way into 
 those *blue waters' of which Finch had spoken, when first he fired 
 Ned's brain with the love of adventure ; he was going to share in 
 the excitement and peril of battle, in which he was yet untried, and 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 155 
 
 that thought strung his nerves with new fortitude. With clenched 
 hand he smote his breast, and muttered, " Conscience, be silent — I 
 must he a manl" When his watch was over, and he slept, he dreamt 
 of a Spanish galleon of enormous magnitude — they board her — he 
 sees her deep hold crammed full of treasure — in the heat of the 
 fight he tumbles amidst the ingots and the doubloons, which open, like 
 water, to receive him, and he sinks into the metallic mass, which 
 closes on him, and he feels himself crushed to death by the enormous 
 weight of the wealth he has won. He started and woke, but soon 
 slept again, and Ellen smiled on him in his second dream, and his 
 waking in the morning was happy. 
 
 Every depressing thought was cast to the wind— to the wind that 
 gave them wings, and sped them onward on the path they hoped to 
 make golden. Onward they ploughed into the deep Atlantic, and the 
 bold and merry hearts of the treasure seekers expanded in revelry 
 every night over the " flowing can." There was one joyous fellow in 
 particular, who was the life and soul of the company. He abounded 
 in anecdote, though now and then a dash of bitterness was perceptible 
 in his sallies, which his companions attributed to his having been 
 engaged in literary pursuits, wherein men get so used to " handling 
 the foils," that they cannot help hitting their friends now and then to 
 keep their hands in practice. He had been, to a certain extent, soured 
 by some of his early experiences. Born in a small town, the paltry 
 jealousies which beset any aspiring man, who offends his brethren by 
 trying to do more than they can, stung young Tresham, and gave an 
 occasional unamiable turn to his thoughts. Having left his native town 
 in disgust, he proceeded to London, and won some literary reputation. 
 He became a contributor to the Gentleman^s Magazine, and wrote 
 pamphlets for parliament-men, who washed to have the credit of 
 wielding a stinging pen. But his love of pleasure ran him into diffi- 
 culties, from which his literary pay could not extricate him; so he 
 joined the privateering speculations of the time, and had already done 
 something in the small way near the coast. Ned admired Tresham 
 extremely, and Tresham sufficiently liked Ned, only he said he was 
 too sentimental by half. " You are always talking," he would say, 
 " about your * Native Land,' and all that sort of thing, which is pure 
 nonsense, believe me. Excuse me, my dear fellow, for the word ; I don't 
 mean it offensively — but nonsense it is. Now, I am of the pure Cosmo- 
 polite breed, that's the thing — nothing like it — Cosmopolite for ever ! — " 
 
 Notwithstanding such discourse, however, Ned persevered in his 
 love for his country, and was not ashamed to avow it — nay, he even 
 would sing it ; and one night, while enjoying their grog, as songs were 
 going round the board, Ned, in his most sentimental vein, gave the 
 following : — 
 
156 £ s, d. 
 
 Hobe anlr |^ome nntr iSatibe Hanlr. 
 I. 
 
 When o'er the silent deep we rove, 
 
 More fondly then our thoughts will stray- 
 To those we leave — to those we love, 
 
 Whose prayers pursue our wat'ry way. 
 When in the lonely midnight hour 
 
 The sailor takes his watchful stand, 
 His heart then feels the holiest power 
 
 Of love, and home, and native land. 
 
 n. 
 
 In vain may tropic climes display 
 
 Their glittering shores— their gorgeous shells ; 
 Though bright birds wing their dazzling way, 
 
 And glorious flowers adorn the dells ; 
 Though nature there prolific, pours 
 
 The treasures of her magic hand, 
 The eye — but not the heart, adores : 
 
 The heart still beats for native land. 
 
 Tresliam only laughed at Ned's sentimentality. " You Irish fellows 
 are the most incurable patriots in the world — there's no curing you. 
 Now I'll volunteer a song on a native subject, gentlemen, if you allow 
 me." 
 
 " Bravo ! Bravo ! " exclaimed all. 
 
 " It is not about my whole native land, for that is too extensive a 
 subject for my limited genius : it is only the thumping heart of an 
 Irishman can entertain so gigantic an aifection — I am content with a 
 town." Then off he dashed as follows : — 
 
 i^O iSatibe ^otim. 
 I. 
 
 We have heard of Charybdis and Scylla of old ; 
 Of Maelstrom the modern enough has been told 
 Of Vesuvius's blazes all travellers bold 
 
 Have established the bright renown : 
 But spite of what ancients or moderns have said 
 Of whirlpools so deep, or volcanoes so red. 
 The place of all others on earth that I dread 
 
 Is my beautiful native town. 
 
 II. 
 
 Where they sneer if you're poor, and they snarl if you're rich ; 
 They know ev'ry cut that you make in your flitch ; 
 If your hose should be darn'd, thoy can tell ev'ry stitch ; 
 And they know when your wife got a gown. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 157 
 
 The old one, they say, was made new — for the brat ; 
 And they're sure you love mice — for you can't keep a cat ; 
 In the hot flame of scandal, how blazes the fat, 
 When it falls in your own native town. 
 
 III. 
 If a good stream of blood chance to run in your veins, 
 They think to remember it not worth the pains, 
 Tor losses of caste are to them all the gains, 
 
 So they treasure each base renown. 
 If your mother sold apples— your father his oath, 
 And was cropp'd of his ears— yet you'll hear of them both, 
 For loathing all low things they never are loth 
 
 In your virtuous native town. 
 
 IV. 
 
 If the dangerous heights of renown you should try 
 
 And give all the laggards below the go-by, 
 
 For fear you'd be hurt with your climbing so high, 
 
 They're the first to pull you down. 
 Should Fame give you wings, and you mount in despite. 
 They swear Fame is wrong, and that they're in the right, 
 And reckon you f^ere— though you're far out of siglit 
 
 Of the owls of your native town. 
 
 V. 
 
 Then give me the world, boys ! that's open and wide, 
 
 Where honest in purpose and honest in pride. 
 
 You are taken for just what you're worth when you're tried, 
 
 And have paid your reckoning doAvn. 
 Your coin's not mistrusted — the critical scale 
 Does not weigh ev'ry piece, like a huxter at sale ; 
 The mint-mark is on it — although it might fail 
 
 To pass in your native town. 
 
 Before a word of comment could be made upon the comparative 
 merits of the two songs, the report of " a sail" from the deck soon 
 cleared the table, and all rushed to join in the look-out. It was soon 
 agreed she was a merchantman ; and the most experienced made her 
 out to be a ' Spaniard for sartin,' so all sail was made in chase. For 
 some time the stranger seemed to take no notice ; but soon it was per- 
 ceived her course was altered, and sail crowded upon her, and this 
 made the pursuit more urgent. The evening now was closing ; but 
 before sun-down, they found they were gaining on the chase ; and ere 
 darkness settled over the deep, they had neared her sufficiently to be 
 convinced she was " foreign," and to prove they could outsail her ; so 
 vigilant look-out was kept during the night, that they might not lose 
 her before dawn, as in case they could but have her then within view 
 they could run her down before night. Fortune favoured the priva- 
 
ir>8 £ s\ d, 
 
 teer. With every effort of nautical stratagem to get away during 
 the darkness, the Spanish ship was visible in the morning, and an 
 anxious chase ensued during the day, which caused beating hearts on 
 board both vessels. At last the Spaniard saw she must fight, and she 
 prepared for action : — she was a large merchantman, well-armed and 
 ably manned; but the superior sailing qualities of the privateer 
 enabled her to chose her position, and her better-handled guns gave 
 her a decided advantage, the results of which were soon apparent. 
 The Spaniards, nevertheless, defended their ship gallantly; and it 
 was not until a large proportion of her men lay dead upon her deck 
 that she struck. Then what a thundering shout arose from the pri- 
 vateer ; how eagerly pushed off the boat to take possession of the 
 prize. She was found to be a rich one ; a large amount of treasure 
 and a valuable cargo secured to the captors ample reward for their 
 enterprise. The bullion was at once removed to the privateer, to- 
 gether with a portion of the crew of the Spaniard ; v/hile a draft of 
 men from the victorious ship was put on board the prize, leaving a 
 portion of her own people free, under the armed control of the captors, 
 for the purpose of working the vessel ; and the few passengers on 
 board were allowed to remain, and enjoy the conveniences of their 
 berths, but under the authority of the person put in command. 
 
 That person was Ned, who had behaved most gallantly in the 
 action, and who, from his seamanlike reputation, was accounted the 
 fittest person to entrust with the prize, as Finch could not be spared 
 from the privateer, where his presence was indispensable. 
 
 The first care was to repair on both the ships the damage done in 
 action ; and after the requisite " fishings" and " splicings" and " knot- 
 tings" were completed, they both made the best of their way in 
 company towards England. 
 
 The prisoners were let up on deck by turns, and it used to go to 
 Ned's heart to witness their dejected looks. But one of the pas- 
 sengers in particular excited his deepest compassion. lie was an 
 old man, of venerable aspect, on whom an Indian climate had set 
 its mark, rendering the traces of time more decided ; but since the 
 taking of the ship, ten years seemed added to his age ; and the sunken 
 and lustreless eye, now and then cast up to Heaven, as if accompany- 
 ing some inward prayer for pity, but chiefly bent downwards 
 despairingly, as he paced the deck, bore heart-rending evidence of 
 suffering. Up and down that deck would he pace with slow and 
 tottering footsteps, occasionally uttering such heavy sighs, as though 
 his heart were breaking. 
 
 The Spaniards called him Don Jerome Carcojas, but the old man 
 spoke English so fluently, that he would not have been taken 
 for a foreigner by his accent. Ned sought every opportunity to 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 159 
 
 exercise little acts of kindness towards the old man, who seemed 
 soothed by his attentions, and sometimes entered into conversation 
 with Edward, who did his best to divert his melancholy by the most 
 amusing anecdotes he could recall ; and by degrees he so won upon 
 the captive, that their conversations lengthened daily, and the poor old 
 gentleman at last used to leave his confinement below, less for the 
 sake of the refreshing breeze of the deck, than the society of Ned. ' 
 
 One very beautiful morning, as the captive made his appearance, 
 Ned was pacing the deck with a light and joyous step, and singing 
 snatches of sea-songs. In short, Ned was in great spirits. The ship 
 was going swiftly through the water before a favouring breeze, the 
 sea sparkled brightly, all external things were calculated to cheer, 
 and Ned was anticipating how many hundreds he should have for his 
 share; and it must be owned, that in the frequent indulgence of this 
 thought of late, it was w^onderful how fast he was getting rid of the 
 conscientious scruples that suggested themselves when he first set sail 
 on the expedition. As he turned lightly on his heel to pace forward 
 on his beat, he caught sight of old Don Jerome, and instantly ceasing 
 his merry carol, accosted the old man in a gentler tone. 
 
 " Yes, you are all life and merriment," said the old man, sadly. 
 " Ah ! there is one about your age, as light of heart as you are now : 
 light of heart in expecting me, and in anticipating riches in my 
 coming, who, if he could see me here a captive, and bereft of all my 
 wealth, would hang his head, and maybe weep." 
 
 Ned attempted some words of comfort, which the old man heard 
 with a silent shrug. 
 
 " Comfort to me ! " he exclaimed, after some minutes' silence. " I 
 will tell you with what hopes and intentions I was going homewards, 
 and then you yourself may answer how a poor disappointed and 
 ruined old man may ever hold up his head again. But God's will be 
 done ! ' Man proposes, but God disposes.' Many years ago I left 
 my native country. Indeed, I ran away from it ; abandoning parents 
 and friends in a wild and wilful spirit, that possessed me in my youth, 
 and maybe this heavy blow in my old age is but a punishment in- 
 tended by Providence for the waywardness and disobedience of my 
 early years." 
 
 The old man paused and sighed, as if recollections of the past brought 
 wdth them bitter regret, and Ned, in thus witnessing the grey-headed 
 regret for youthful disobedience, bethought him of his own infraction 
 of parental authority, and abandonment of the course wherein his 
 father had ordered him to walk. 
 
 The old man resumed. — " Years and years rolled on, and I never 
 heard of home or kindred ; but in the bustle of young and active life, 
 I thought nothing of that ; and as I prospered fast in worldly affairs, and 
 
160 4^ 5. d, 
 
 not only all comforts, but pleasures were at my command, the present 
 hour always drove both the past and the future out of my head. But 
 when age began to creep on me, I had no one to care for, nor to care 
 for me, and then regrets for past ties began to steal upon me, and self- 
 reproach for early heedlessness used to disturb my hours of solitude. 
 At last, by a chance intercourse with a trader, I learnt that my 
 brother was still alive in his native land, and had a son, the prop of 
 his age — a blessing I did not possess, and I took the resolution of 
 going back to Europe with all my wealth. I converted every thing 
 into treasure — the treasure which you took, and is now on board your 
 ship — and was returning in the hope of embracing my brother, and 
 my nephew whom I intended to make my heir, and in the enjoyment 
 of kindred to end my days, with the hands of one who should love 
 and honour me to close my eyes, when it should please Heaven to call 
 me away, not to be left in the last hour to the cold care of heartless 
 hirelings in a strange land. Such were my intentions ; but worse is 
 before me than the death I wished to shun ; for where I expected to 
 go back a welcomed benefactor, I shall return but a burden and a 
 pauper." 
 
 Tears trickled down the old man's cheeks as he spoke, and he sunk 
 down exhausted on a gun-carriage. 
 
 " 'Tis a sad tale," said Ned, laying his hand gently on the old man's 
 shoulder — " a bitter tale ! " — and he wished in his heart he had not 
 heard it. 
 
 " You are compassionate," said the old man, " and compassion to 
 the wretched is much. There is kindness in the tone of your voice 
 that is welcome to me ; — an accent belonging to the kind-hearted land 
 you came from." 
 
 Ned was surprised at such a remark upon accent coming from a 
 foreigner, and asked him to explain himself. 
 
 " Are you not Irish ?" said Don Jerome. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " No wonder then I recognise the accent of a countryman," returned 
 the old man. 
 
 " I thought you were a Spaniard." 
 
 " I lived amongst them in their American possessions for forty 
 years, and in the course of that time have become like one of them- 
 selves." 
 
 " And how comes your name to be Don Jerome Carcojas ?" 
 
 " It was only a slight alteration which the Spaniards made, to ac- 
 commodate my real name to their pronunciation — which is Corkery." 
 
 Ned started — gasped for breath, and had he not laid hold of the 
 bulwark, must have fallen upon the deck. 
 
^.S-^AjHir-"" 
 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 101 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 "What a confused rush of contending emotions whirled tlirougli 
 Ned's brain, as, gasping for breath, and his heart thumping against his 
 ribs, he held on for support, and cast a fearful gaze upon the old man, 
 who, with one word, had made him so miserable. Poor fellow ! his 
 case was a hard one. He saw before him his own uncle, of whose 
 wealth he himself was tlie intended heir ; and of that wealth he had 
 helped to despoil him. The compunctious visitings of conscience he 
 experienced before he entered on this course of pillage had been dis- 
 regarded in his greedy desire for wealth, and they all recurred to him 
 at that moment, adding weight to the blow which had fallen. He felt 
 the chastising hand of Providence was upon him ; and that, when he 
 went forth in violence to plunder others, the bitter retribution was 
 ordained that he should despoil himself. Then in what fearful rela- 
 tion he stood to this new-found relative ! His heart prompted that he 
 should embrace him ; but how could he dare acknowledge himself his 
 nephew — he who was amongst his captors and his plunderers ? 
 
 The old man looked up, and Ned could hardly fortify himself 
 against the kind expression of his glistening eye, as words of thapks 
 were given to him for his sympathy. 
 
 *' You are a good-natured fellow," said the Senor — " God bless you !" 
 
 The benediction was worse than curses to Edward's ear, and he 
 writhed under it. 
 
 " Do not think me a poor, weak old driveller, because I droop 
 so. I would not grieve so much if the boy had not heard of it ; but 
 I lately sent home word of my being alive, (for they thought me 
 dead,) and of my wealth, and good intentions towards my nephew ; and 
 of course he, poor boy, is full of joy and hope ; and when he knows the 
 result, 'twill be hard for him — hard — hard ! It is crushing in early 
 youth to receive a blow so heavy." 
 
 Bitterly the truth of these words was felt, while the unselfish 
 nature of the old man's regrets increased Ned's anguish. " "Wretcli 
 that I am !" thought he, "that all this solicitude should be entertained 
 for the worthless fellow who has helped to work his ruin ; and these 
 
 M 
 
162 £ S, (L 
 
 kind considerations be given to one whom he imagines far away, 
 while the miscreant is at his side ! " 
 
 " / have not long to live," said the old man ; " the grave will soon 
 shelter me from worldly woe ; but he, full of youth and health, has 
 long years of regret before him for this mischance." 
 
 " True," was the response, uttered with a pang. 
 
 " While with the wealth I could have left him, he had a future of 
 enjoyment in prospect." 
 
 A heavy sigh followed from Ned. 
 
 " Proudly might he have claimed the girl of his heart." 
 
 These last words were as coals of fire on the head of poor Edward, 
 who could endure no more, but rushed from the spot, and, hiding him- 
 self in his berth, gave vent to the convulsive feelings with which his 
 heart was bursting. 
 
 When these had run their rapid and violent course, calmer musings 
 succeeded ; and then it was that Ned saw his case presented one point 
 of consideration which was downright ludicrous. He was a brilliant 
 specimen of an Irish heir, who had destroyed the fortune to which he 
 was to succeed. He was his own cut-purse. — He had come forth to 
 shear, and was returning shorn. — He dare not confide his case to any 
 one. — Finch would only laugh at, while his uncle would abhor him ; 
 therefore must he be doomed to imprison the fatal secret in his own 
 bosom, saddening his heart, and gnawing at his conscience. What pro- 
 longed misery he endured, on the homeward passage, as day after day 
 he was forced to meet his uncle, and experience frequent repetitions of 
 his griefs, his thanks, and his yearnings towards his nephew ! This 
 became at last insupportable ; it was a load his conscience could no 
 longer bear, and he felt it would be some alleviation of his misery to 
 confess the relationship at once, and, by the voluntary exposure of his 
 shame, make some atonement for his transgression. But this he found 
 was not so easy. Often he essayed, but, as the words of confession 
 were rising to his lips, his courage failed, and pride was stronger than 
 conscience — he could not so humiliate himself. But as the old saying 
 
 hath it — 
 
 *' Continual dropping will -vrear a stone." 
 
 And one day the expressions of affection for his nephew, on the part 
 of the old man, were so fervent, so full of thoughtful tenderness, tliat 
 Ned could stand it no longer — he felt almost choking ; his eyes glis- 
 tened with rebellious tears, and asking the Senor to follow him to the 
 cabin, he there "made a clean breast of it," relating his adventures 
 from the time he left home — love, smuggling and all, and finally dis- 
 closed his name and relationship to the old man, who, when the first 
 shock of astonishment was over, folded Ned to his bosom and wept 
 over him. 
 
5^5-OYoT~_^ 
 
 cy, 
 
 ^Wr-e^/i^^-^zce. - • b^?:^^^^^yp'L(sA:^ . 
 
-■»»•' .,. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. - 1C3 
 
 " Can you forgive me ?" said Ned. 
 
 " Forgive you ? " returned his uncle. " My poor fellow, you are 
 more to be pitied than I am," were the only words of reproof the 
 generous old man uttered, and Ned wrung his hand with gratitude. 
 
 " What I blame you most for is your not writing to your father." 
 
 "I thought he would have disapproved of my course of life," 
 answered Ned, " and I did not like to give him unhappiness." 
 
 " No unhappiness like uncertainty about those we love," said his 
 uncle ; " you should know that from your own experience." 
 
 " Oh, as for my love," said Ned, sadly, " I told you of it because 
 I determined to confess all. Of course you think it a wild and 
 absurd vision — as it is; nevertheless, it has led me to all I have 
 dared." 
 
 "Where will not love lead?" returned the old man, with a sigh, 
 and a tone of tenderness in his voice, and his sunken eye lighted with 
 a gleam that Edward never had marked before. " What will it not 
 make us dare ; what will it not make us hope ! Think not I blame 
 you for entertaining a love so much above your station. You could 
 not help it — I know it, boy — for I could not help it myself. I loved 
 as you have, Ned. But don't fear an old man is going to prate of his 
 love — no, Ned, no. Love is for youth. I have said it, boy, only to 
 show you I could not blame you. My days and hopes are past and 
 gone, but the thoughts still lie here — here !" and he laid his attenuated 
 hand on the slowly-beating heart, which still carried in its lessened 
 current the unlessened tenderness of an early and hopeless passion. 
 " Ah, Ned ! " he added, with an expression of the deepest longing in 
 his voice, " Would to God my fortune had been yours—that you 
 might have claimed your love — that I might have seen in one of my 
 own kin, at least, the happiness that was denied to me ; it would have 
 been making real before my old eyes a dream of the past to me ! " 
 
 Ned suggested that their present conference must cease, as too pro- 
 tracted a tete-ct-Ute might create remark on board, and remark 
 excite questions ; " and I would not for the world they should suspect 
 our relationship," said Ned. " How the rascals would laugh ! and, 
 though I have borne the shame of avowing myself to you, I could not 
 bear the humiliation of being the jest of these dare-devils." 
 
 " The laugh of scorn is a sore thing," said the old man ; " but the 
 humbleness which repentance makes is consoling — do you not feel the 
 happier, Edward, for your confession?" 
 
 "Oh, so much happier!" said Edward; <' but to what merciful 
 ears I confessed!" 
 
 " Boy ! " said his uncle, solemnly, " remember that repentance ever 
 begets mercy. And now let us part for the present— fear not discovery 
 from me." 
 
 m2 
 
1(54 £ S, (L 
 
 With these words they separated, and met no more for that day ; 
 but every four-and-twenty hours afforded them the ordinary meeting, 
 and uncle and nephew enjoyed the interchange of affection. 
 
 Ned's spirits returned as soon as he had unburthened his conscience, 
 and, without saying a word of his intention to his uncle, he had deter- 
 mined that, whatever his share of the prize should be, he would hand 
 it over to the old man ; and, though this placed as wide a gulph as 
 ever between him and the object of his love, it brought peace to his 
 conscience, and the inward conviction of doing what was right 
 proved, as it ever must, a great consolation. 
 
 The ships were now nearing the shores of Europe, and, one morning, 
 Ned was asked by his uncle for a few minutes of secret conversation. 
 "Be sure there is not a creature within ear-shot of us," said the 
 old man. 
 
 Ned took his opportunity for obtaining the privacy his uncle 
 required, and the old man told him he had a secret to reveal which 
 might in some measure retrieve their fortunes. 
 
 " It sometimes happens," said he, " that, when ships are taken by 
 privateers, some stronger-handed plunderer, under another flag, may 
 wrest the prize from the first captor ; and this has happened so 
 often of late, that privateers make it a rule to seize upon all the 
 treasure they can find, and convey it on board their own bottoms, in 
 case of the worst ; and that, however ships and cargoes may slip 
 through their fingers, they, at least, will make sure of the pieces 
 of eight. Now my boxes of treasure have been so served by your 
 friends, and are on board the privateer yonder, but, when I left the 
 main, in case of accident, I—" 
 
 The old man paused and cast a look of alarm towards the door. 
 
 " Did you not hear a noise ?" said he, in an under tone, to Ned. 
 
 Ned answered in the negative ; and, opening the door to see that 
 no one listened, his uncle was reassured and continued. 
 
 " In case of the worst, I — " again he paused, looked round, and, 
 lowering his voice to a whisper, continued — " I concealed no incon- 
 siderable sum of gold in the bags of snuff which are among this 
 cargo." 
 
 " Well," said Ned, breathlessly, "what then?" 
 
 " If you could only procure some trusty agent on shore to buy all 
 this snuff when the cargo is put up for auction, as it will be soon 
 after we get into port, then — " 
 
 " We should possess the gold," interrupted Ned. 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 " Uncle," said Ned, after a moment's pause, and with a heavy sigli, 
 as if he regretted what he was forced to say, " It would be dis- 
 honourable." 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 105 
 
 " Dishonourable ! " exclaimed the old man in surprise. " Talk of 
 lionour with thieves like these ? " 
 
 '• Yes," said Ned, " the principle has passed into an old saying — 
 
 ' Honour among thieves ;' 
 
 uud I will not violate it — I am of them — I came out with them, 
 as we all came, to risk our lives for gold — banded together in daring 
 and in danger ; and, though the fates have been unkind to me in the 
 venture, nevertheless, I cannot reconcile it to myself to play this trick 
 upon my shipmates." 
 
 " You are a romantically -honourable fellow, Ned ! " said his uncle. 
 '•' I would not have you obtain wealth if you have a scruple about the 
 means." 
 
 " If you think of any way in which you yourself could manage to 
 procure an agency for this purpose," said Ned, " I will say nothing 
 about it ; though I am not sure if that is not a breach of trust ; and 
 question if I am not bound in strict honour to tell them this." 
 
 " I cannot have such an agency," said his uncle ; " that is quite out 
 of the question, utter stranger as I am in England ; but, as for telling 
 them, Ned, do not tell them yet ; they have not got us into port, and 
 there are slips ' between the cup and the lip' — France and Spain have 
 their privateers and ships of war as well as England, and, if a Spaniard 
 should retake us, — " 
 
 The old man became suddenly silent, for a hasty step was heard 
 descending the companion-ladder; the door of the cabin was opened, and 
 the mate popped in his head to say the privateer was making signals. 
 
 Ned hurried to the deck, and, glass in hand, was on the alert to 
 answer his consort. The signals gave notice of a strange sail, and 
 also told the prize to keep closer company. To achieve this, the pri- 
 vateer shortened, while the prize made all the sail she could; and 
 when a couple of hours had brought them sufficiently near, a boat was 
 ordered from the Spaniard to the privateer, where Ned received orders 
 ho^v to manage the ship through the night ; — for the night was 
 approaching — and so was the strange sail, whose aspect was not 
 pleasing to the company on board the Snow, for it looked ship-of- 
 war-ish, and not friendly ; and though the privateer might be equal in 
 sailing, the prize certainly was not. It was debated for some time 
 whether the two ships in company might be able to beat off the 
 enemy, should she prove such ; or if it would not be more ad- 
 visable to throve overboard the guns of the prize, which, thus 
 lightened, might have a better chance to run for it. It is scarcely 
 necessary to say which way the question was decided. When did the 
 question ever lie between fighting and running, that the British seaman 
 did not throw up his hat for the fight ? Ned was sent back, therefore, 
 
166 £ s, d, 
 
 with orders to keep close to the privateer during the night, and, in 
 case of an attack from the strange sail, to make a good bull-dog 
 defence of it, while the privateer should take every advantage of 
 position, and make her shot tell. That the prize might be the better 
 able to keep her colours to the mast, an additional draft of men was 
 given for the working of her guns ; for, hitherto, as she sailed under 
 the protecting canon of the privateer, she only numbered hands 
 enough to work the ship, without any view to fighting; but, now 
 that danger threatened, this necessary supply to her guns was 
 afforded, while, at the same time, Ned received the order to make all 
 possible sail he could during the night to avoid the necessity of hostile 
 collision. Reversing the order of the noted sea-song, which says — 
 " We'll fight while we can — when we can't, boys, we'll run ! " 
 
 Ned's duty was precisely the reverse — 
 
 " We'll run while we can — when we can't, boys, we'll fight ! " 
 
 As the boats rowed to the prize the last red<rays of the sun tipped each 
 wave with crimson, and seemed to forebode blood. At least, so fancied 
 Ned,, who went back silently and full of thought. The announcement 
 of a strange sail at the very moment his uncle suggested such a 
 chance, struck him as remarkable, and was received with the super- 
 stitious reverence of a sailor. Then, if the sail should turn out to be 
 Spanish, that he should be entrusted with the defence of a ship which, 
 for his uncle's, and for his own conscience' sake, he should wish to be 
 retaken, was an embarrassing circumstance, for here were wishes 
 divided against duty ; and, in such a frame of mind, what man could 
 wish to fight ? 
 
 With a depression of spirits rare with Ned, he stepped on board 
 and resumed the command of the ship, whose deck he never quitted 
 throughout the whole of the night ; during which gloomy forebodings 
 overcast his spirit, when the intervals of the anxious duty he had to 
 perform gave thought a moment's liberty. A presentiment that he 
 was doomed to fall, haunted his midnight watch ; and when, as the 
 dawn revealed the cold dead level of surrounding waters, the strange 
 sail loomed larger in pursuit, he felt the fight was inevitables and 
 braced himself with the manly determination honestly and resolutely 
 to defend his ship. 
 
 The sun now rose above the horizon, and morning, with its freshness 
 and its brightness, sparkled over the waters. In another hour the 
 pursuing ship fired a gun and showed French colours. The privateer 
 and her prize took no notice. In half an hour more the chase-guns 
 of the Frenchmen were opened on the flying ships, and, every ten 
 minutes, as Ned looked over the taffrail of the Spanish merchantman, 
 he saw the shot foiling closer astern. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 16) 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The alFair of the cliiua closet had spread over Paris rapidly, and 
 the defeat of so able a strategist as Marshal Saxe was looked upon as 
 too good a joke to be laid on the shelf ; the consequence therefore was 
 that the redoubtable Count, hitherto invincible in love and war, felt so 
 much of ridicule attach to the adventure, that he quitted the capital 
 and retired to his chateau. But before he withdrew he prepared a 
 terrible retaliation upon EUen, fully in the spirit of the threat with 
 which he quitted the house of Madame de Jumillac on the day of his 
 defeat. He procured lettf^es de cachet against Ellen and her father, on 
 the ground of their being in reality nothing better than English spies, 
 while they were apparently attached to the cause of the exiled Stuart. 
 
 Lynch, it was his intention to consign to the Bastile, where he 
 would be irrecoverably beyond all means of counteracting the Mar- 
 shal's designs, and protecting his beautiful daughter, whom the Count 
 destined for an imprisonment not so dismal, but more detestable, than 
 that of the Bastile itself. 
 
 It was not the first time the Count had availed himself of that most 
 iniquitous engine of all tyrannies, the lettre de cachet, for the accom- 
 plishment of his libertine desires ; and he was not the only one who 
 made it serve other purposes than those for which it was supposed to 
 be intended. This unquestioned measure of imprisonment, for whose 
 exercise no one in the executive was responsible, invented to uphold 
 the despotism of the crown, was too frequently used to serve the pur- 
 poses of a licentious court ; and the person whom the lettre de cachet 
 dragged from the bosom of home, was not always consigned to the 
 Bastile. That place served for troublesome fathers, husbands, or 
 brothers, while the surrounding chateaux of the voluptuous capital 
 more frequently were the prisons of ladies who fell within the grasp 
 of this secret instrument of unscrupulous power. 
 
 This seems almost incredible now, when the tyranny that disgraced 
 France has been subverted for ever, and popular privilege based on the 
 ruins of regal oppression ; but, in the days'^of which our story treats, 
 the crown, its minions, and the seignorie of France, held undisputed 
 power over all the lives, liberties, and honour of the people, — that 
 
168 £ .V. (L 
 
 people who, driven at last to desperation, rose in maddened masses on 
 their tyrants, and took swift and terrible vengeance ; —a vengeance so 
 bloody, and so fraught with human suffering, that we shudder to 
 remember ; but at which, if we consider the provocation, we can 
 scarcely wonder. 
 
 The Marshal had retired, we have said, to his country retreat. It was 
 the celebrated royal chateau of Chambor, which had been presented to 
 him by the king as a mark of his favour for the brilliant services of 
 the soldier ; and the gift was the more prized by the gallant Count, 
 that it had been a favourite retreat of one whose name stands highest 
 in the list of chivalry. Here Francis the First had enjoyed his 
 voluptuous leisure ; and this palace, built by the gallant king, had 
 been since dedicated by many a monarch to pleasure, and was not 
 likely to have its celebrity impaired, in that respect, by its present 
 occupant. Saxe had determined to make a double capture of father 
 and daughter ; and, armed with his terrible warrants for theii' arrest, 
 waited till Lynch should return to Paris before he should consign him 
 to a dungeon, and carry off Ellen to the chateau. 
 
 At last that moment arrived, and Saxe was awaiting the arrival of 
 an emissary he had summoned, in that very chamber which, doubt- 
 less, had often been the scene of intrigue, — that little room which yet 
 bore evidence on its window-pane of the presence, in by-gone days, of 
 the gallant founder of the fabric, whose hand had traced there the 
 well-known couplet — 
 
 " Souvent femme varie 
 Mai habil qui s'y fie.'* 
 
 The Count was not alone. Voltaire, who was then on a visit with 
 him, had just risen from the breakfast-table, and was scanning the 
 couplet on the glass with his keen eyes, marking the form and cut of 
 every letter. In the meantime the servant of the Marshal's pleasures 
 entered, received some sealed ^acquets from his master to be delivered 
 in Paris, together with strict injunctions to be sure and swift in the 
 matter of which he before had received the jmvate commands of the 
 Count. 
 
 The emissary, with the assurance that " 3Ionseigneur might depend 
 on him," bowed low, and left the chamber on his fearl'ul mission. 
 The Marshal flung himself back in Ins fauteicil, and watched Voltaire 
 as he was still looking at the couplet of Francis. 
 
 " That seems to fascinate you," said Saxe. " Is it the autograph 
 or the sentiment you admire ?" 
 
 " I am amused," said Voltaire, " at the vanity and conceit of the 
 royal rhymer." 
 
 " I cannot see either in the lines," said the Marshal. 
 
TllEASUllE TROVE. 1G9 
 
 " The man," said Voltaire, " who puts a couplet thus e)i evidence, 
 thinks his production very clever ; and I do not see any great exer- 
 cise of ability in discovering what he has taken so much pains to 
 engrave." 
 
 " But is it not true ?" returned the Count. 
 
 " Certainly. — But I only said it was not clever." 
 
 " Yet the saying is known all over Europe ; and that which has 
 lived two centuries has some claim to distinction." 
 
 " It has lived because it is true," said Voltaire. — " Truth is immor- 
 tal. At the same time it must be avowed this is a very common- 
 place truth, and derives its immortality not from Francis : for I doubt 
 very much if a king had not written it, and written it thus, that eveiy 
 sight-seer in Europe might tell, on going home, he had seen the cele- 
 brated writing on the window of the Chateau de Chambor, that the 
 lines would have survived his reign. No. Its immortality may be 
 derived from a more respectable antiquity than two centuries, for 
 women were much the same two thousand years before as two hundred 
 after Francis." 
 
 " All I pretend to say is," said the Marshal, '• that Louis now 
 might just as fitly and truly write those lines as Francis." 
 
 " Yes, my friend," returned Voltaire ; " and so might Pericles have 
 written of Aspasia, or Caesar of Cleopatra ; or, to go back to the 
 beginning, I believe, if there had been another man in the world 
 immediately after the creation, Adam might have carved the same 
 saying on the tree of knowledge." 
 
 The Count laughed at the conceit, and Voltaire smiled at the success 
 of his sally ; and, according to the tactics of wits by profession, who are 
 glad to retire after saying a " good thing," he made the excuse of 
 being obliged to write, to make his bow for awhile ; and, after these 
 two sceptics in human virtue had amused themselves at the expense of 
 the oft-abused gentler sex, the Marshal, settling himself into a posi- 
 tion of greater ease in his chair, dropped into a luxurious doze, and 
 dreamt of La belle Irlandaise. 
 
 It was the third day after, that the Marshal's messenger was 
 approaching Paris, and about the same time Prince Charles Edward 
 *and his adherents were holding council at his little court in its neigh- 
 bourhood. The French cabinet had refused open aid in his cause, 
 and seemed disinclined, if not unable, to give him anything more than 
 good wishes : — these were at his service in abundance, — but good 
 wishes will not supply the sinews of war. Many of his adherents 
 went so far as to believe that the professions of the French govern- 
 ment were all hollow ; and that the desire for peace with England 
 made them hesitate in making any movement in favour of the young 
 Pretender. 
 
170 £ s, d. 
 
 Lynch was most indignant of all. He had run the extremity of risk 
 in extensively recruiting in Ireland for the Irish brigade in the service 
 of France, believing (as he was led to believe,) that the entire brigade 
 would be given to the service of his " rightful king," as he called 
 Charles, and believed him to be : but when he found that this was not 
 to be the case, his indignation was deep, and partook of that disgust 
 which honest and earnest natures feel at breach of faith. 
 
 " Did they think," he would say, " that I would have made myself 
 a recruiting officer for Louis ? — Did they imagine I would enlist 
 Irishmen to shed their blood for French quarrels and French glory ? 
 Insolent ! — I enlisted my countrymen for the cause of their King — to 
 strengthen that gallant brigade which I fondly hoped should have 
 the largest share in placing him on his rightful throne ; — and what 
 is my reward ? — I see not only their swords refused in that holy 
 cause, but even worse ; many of the brave fellows I enlisted have not 
 been enrolled in their native brigade, but drafted here and there into 
 French regiments, in utter violation of the understanding with which 
 I embarked in the desperate cause of enlistment in Ireland. Curse 
 them ! — And he, their great Marshal, — gallant and able though he be, 
 staining his laurels by a profligacy so unblushing, that even the 
 honour of a soldier's daughter, which should be sacred in his eyes, is 
 held as nothing ! — Oh, the profligacy of the time and place disgust 
 me, and I long to be quit of the infected land I" 
 
 While debating the affairs of the Prince he would say — " Strike 
 at once ! — While the terrors of Fontenoi still hang over George, make 
 a descent on Scotland." 
 
 This he had repeated more than once at the present council held by 
 Charles Edward, and the Prince declared himself to be of the same 
 opinion. 
 
 " If I go alone !" exclaimed Charles, with energy, — " I will show 
 myself in Scotland, and trust to the loyal hearts there to rally round 
 their Prince." 
 
 " If we could even get a thousand regular troops," said Drummond. 
 
 " The happy time is more to be considered than men," said 
 Charles. 
 
 '* And if we bring arms, we'll find men to bear them," added Lynch. 
 
 " True," said Charles. — " And some expert officers will accompany 
 me, who will soon teach them discipline." 
 
 " The arms you can have. Prince," said a secret agent of the 
 government. 
 
 " And a swift brig of eighteen guns lies this moment at the mouth 
 of the Loire, ready for your Higlmess's service," said Lynch. 
 
 " And / will venture to promise," said the government agent, 
 " that one ship of war shall sail in your company, and give 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 171 
 
 protection ; while a portion of the officers of the Irish brigade can be 
 allowed leave, and may join the expedition. — So far the government 
 is willing to wink at the aid rendered ; but, under existing circum- 
 stances, any more open demonstration in your cause. Prince, is 
 impossible." 
 
 After some further debate, in which details were entered into un- 
 necessary to particularise here, it was agreed that the adherents of 
 Charles should proceed to the mouth of the Loire, and hold them- 
 selves in readiness for embarkation, for which the arrival of the pro- 
 mised frigate should be the signal. Lynch informed the Prince that 
 Walsh, the Bourdeaux merchant, was already at Nantes, and had 
 three thousand gold pieces at his Highness's service, and also a house 
 there ready for his reception. 
 
 Lynch was called from the conference, at this moment, at the 
 urgent desire of a messenger, who had manifestly ridden hard, for his 
 horse was reeking and dripping wet, as he stood at the door panting 
 for breath. The messenger handed him a note, — he broke the seal 
 hastily, and read — • 
 
 '* Beloved Father, 
 
 " As you value all that is dear to you and to me, 
 return here instantly. — Your own 
 
 " Ellen." 
 
 The urgency of the note made him contract his brow as he read ; 
 he cast an eager glance of inquiry at the servant, who answered the 
 look by words. 
 
 " Mademoiselle desired you should take my horse, sir." 
 
 In another minute Lynch was in the saddle, and riding at speed to 
 Paris. On reaching the house of Madame de Jumillac, and asking 
 for his daughter, a servant told him he would conduct him to where 
 Mademoiselle was, and, opening the hall-door, led the way to the street. 
 
 " Has she been taken from the house, then ?" asked her father in 
 alarm. 
 
 " Mademoiselle left the house suddenly. Monsieur, with Madame 
 and another lady in a carriage." 
 
 Lynch's uneasiness was somewhat appeased at the thought of 
 Madame de Jumillac being still in Ellen's society ; but he urged the 
 servant to speed, and, walking at a rapid pace, they were not long in 
 reaching a handsome house ; there, on Lynch presenting his name, 
 he was immediately ushered to an apartment, where, amidst objects 
 of taste, which adorned the chamber, and furniture of the utmost 
 elegance, a quantity of shabby-looking clothes were strewed about the 
 floor, or hung upon the chairs, making a contrast too startling not 
 
172 £ S. d. 
 
 to be observed by Lynch, whose wonder was increased by seeing 
 Ellen standing amidst a heap of boddices, petticoats, caps, and jerkins, 
 of all fashions, she herself wearing a peasant's costume, which was 
 nearly completed, the finishing touches being in the act of completion 
 at the hands of a very lovely woman. There was one remarkable trait 
 in this affair; it was, that, though engaged seemingly in preparing for a 
 masquerade, which usually inspires mirth, there was rather a serious 
 and business-like air about the whole proceeding, and an expression 
 of anxiety shadowing every face. 
 
 On Lynch's entrance, he was received by the beautiful lady Avho 
 was acting tyre-woman, with an air of supreme elegance ; and, as he 
 was taxing his memory to recall where he had seen her before, Ellen 
 advanced to her father, and, hastily expressing her delight at seeing 
 him in safety, begged to present him to Mademoiselle le Couvreur. 
 
 An involuntary expression of something between surprise and dis- 
 pleasure passed across his face, as Lynch saw his daughter thus 
 engaged in offices of intimacy with one whose reputation was not 
 stainless ; and Madame de Jumillac, with all the quickness of a 
 Frenchwoman, advanced, and said — 
 
 " You know not, Moimeur le Ca/pitaine^ how deeply we are in- 
 debted to Mademoiselle le Couvreur." 
 
 She then commenced an explanation of the affiiir to Lynch ; the 
 purport was, in brief, this : Adrienne had, in some way, which she 
 did not think it necessary to explain, got information of the Count de 
 Saxe's infamous design ; and she, though herself not a model of 
 purity, had, nevertheless, enough of a woman's sympathies remaining 
 to shudder at the thought of the Marshal's plot, and hastened at once 
 to the house of Madame de Jumillac to give warning of the impending 
 danger, and suggest a mode of escape. Adrienne, aware there was no 
 time to lose, hurried Madame and Ellen away instantly from their 
 home to her own house, where she ordered the superintendant of the 
 wardrobe of the theatre to be in attendance, with a choice of peasant 
 costumes, both male and female. 
 
 It so happened that the day was the octave of the feast of Corpus 
 Christi, on which dny the Bastile was always thrown open for public 
 inspection, and was visited by the surrounding peasantry of Paris in 
 thousands, who were anxious to see the interior of this prison-fortress, 
 whose name carried with it so much of mystery and terror. Adrienne, 
 therefore, suggested that Ellen and her father, in the disguise of 
 peasants, should visit the Bastile ; and, wandering about there all 
 day amidst the crowd, find safety, by being in the very spot to which 
 there was a government order to convey them ; judging, truly, that, 
 of all places in Paris, the Bastile must be the last where they 
 >vould be sought for, and that in the evening they could pass the 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 173 
 
 barrlors securely among the groups of country people then quitting 
 the city. 
 
 Ellen's disguise was now completed ; the only difficulty Adrienne 
 experienced being to keep do\vn her beauty as much as possible. 
 Contrary to all the regular rules of the toilette, her object was to 
 make the lady look ugly instead of handsome ; but, with all the 
 skill of an experienced and accomplished actress, used to the artifices 
 of personal disguise, this was more than even Adrienne le Couvreur 
 could accomplish. 
 
 When Lynch heard of the infamous design on foot against him and 
 his daughter, his indignation knew no bounds ; — he lost all patience, 
 and burst into a fierce and terrible invective against the Marshal, 
 clutching the hffndle of his sword at intervals, as though he longed for 
 the extremity of vengeance, and even suggesting the possibility of his 
 hastening at once to the libertine's retreat, and demanding satisfac- 
 tion at the point of the sword. From such fruitless passion and vain 
 attempt he was at length cooled down and dissuaded by the persuasive 
 words of the ladies, who now retired from the chamber with Adrienne, 
 she promising to Lynch the inmiediate attendance of the theatrical 
 wardrobe-keeper, who would do as much for him as had been accom- 
 plished for Ellen. 
 
 " Observe," said Adrienne, " I have made believe that all this 
 masquerading is but for the fulfilment of a little bit of private fun; 
 so clear your brow. Monsieur, and seem to treat the affair as a 
 bagatelle." 
 
 With these words she retired, and the dramatic dresser made his 
 appearance, and in some twenty minutes the captain of the Irish 
 brigade was converted into a rustic, and miglit have passed for the 
 " Antoine" or "Basil" of some pastoral farce. 
 
 When the ladies were allowed to return to the room, Adrienne 
 
 gave some finishing strokes to the " making up" of Lynch, and father 
 
 j^d daughter were prepared to go forth on their pilgrimage. The 
 
 "next point of consideration was, whither they should fly when they 
 
 were passed the barriers, for concealment for any time near the city 
 
 was impossible. 
 
 " Opportunely," said Lynch, " I was on the point of departing for 
 Nantes, and this only hastens the journey a few days." 
 
 " Your road thither lies directly towards Chambor^^ said Madame 
 de Jumillac, in alarm. 
 
 " All the better," said Adrienne. " When it is found that the birds 
 are flown, none will suspect they are flying towards the net of the 
 fowler." 
 
 It was then arranged that Madame de Jumillac should drive to 
 Prince Charles Edward, tell what had occurred, and ask him to pro- 
 
lU £ s. (I 
 
 cure a passport as if for one of his own adherents, who were in the 
 habit of being permitted to travel under feigned names ; and that, 
 under favour of night, they should meet at a safe place of rendez- 
 vous near Paris, named by Adrienne, and thence Ellen and her 
 father hasten to the coast. Such necessary preliminaries being 
 arranged, Ellen uttered unfeigned and touching thanks to Made- 
 moiselle le Couvreur ; and receiving in return kind wishes for the 
 success of the plot, father and daughter, as Basil and Annette, 
 went forth upon the streets, and proceeded to the Bastile. As 
 they approached the fortress, they mingled in the crowd of pea- 
 santry, and assimilated themselves as much as possible to their gait 
 and manner, and imitated the upturned looks of surprise and 
 gaping wonder which were bestowed on the lofty* and ponderous 
 towers. They crossed the drawbridge, and as they passed under the 
 low-browed arch, and Ellen felt herself within the prison, she shud- 
 dered at the thought of discovery, and clung closer to her father. An 
 admonitory look, and a whispered word of caution, recalled her to 
 self-possession, and she affected an ease to which her heart was a 
 stranger. — Sometimes they stopped to hear the remarks of some 
 spokesman of a group, who pointed out something worthy of observa- 
 tion, or made some remark in a levity of spirit ill-suited to the place, 
 which made his hearers laugh. 
 
 " Heaven pity the poor captive," thought Ellen, " who hears the 
 thoughtless laughter of those who come to see the place of his misery! 
 How bitterly must a laugh sound to him !" 
 
 Ellen observed a turnkey eyeing her intently ; the gaze was, in 
 fact, attributable to the brute's admiration, but to her it seemed as if 
 he suspected her, and, with the cunning peculiar to his craft, saw 
 through her disguise. Her heart sunk within her ; and as her arm 
 touched her father he felt her shudder. Again his words were used 
 to reassure her, but she took occasion to point out the turnkey to Iiis 
 observation. 
 
 " How that man looks at me!" 
 
 " Because he thinks you are pretty, Nell, no more. — Steady, my 
 girl, and fear nothing." — The turnkey approached, and chucking her 
 under the chin with as galliard an air as the savage could assume, 
 said, — 
 
 " There's a pretty girl ! — you're pretty enough for a lady, my dear." 
 
 " Pretty enough for a lady ! — Could he mean anything ?" — Ellen 
 attempted a smile, but it was very faint. — The turnkey thought it was 
 shyness. 
 
 " You are too pretty to be bashful, my dear," he said. — " I should 
 think you have soft things said to you too often to be surprised. — 
 This is your father, I suppose, with you." 
 
,:Z<H^l/^^. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 1 7o 
 
 '•Yes, sir," said Ellen; "but he is deaf ; and, as lie cannot hear 
 what is said, he never speaks much." 
 
 She said this to exonerate her father from the necessity of speaking, 
 for' his accent had not that purity which hers possessed, — a purity which 
 could deceive a native ; — besides, her power of imitation was such, 
 that she could mimic the patois of many districts, and dreaded not 
 present discovery on the score of language. 
 
 " Then, if he is deaf I may say what I like to you, — eh ?— that was 
 not a bad hint of yours," said the fellow, with a wink. 
 
 Ellen shook her head, as much as to say he must not go too far. 
 
 " You're the prettiest girl in your village, I'll be sworn. — Where 
 do you come from ?" 
 
 " Lonjumeau, sir." 
 
 " Lonjumeau ! — ah, J like the girls of Lonjumeau well. — Do you 
 know Etienne BaroUes, who lives there ?" 
 
 " No, sir," replied Ellen, sorry she had hit on a village in which he 
 had acquaintances. 
 
 " I expect him to-day." 
 
 Ellen devoutly hoped he would not come. 
 
 "But, as he has not arrived, I'll wait no more here, where I 
 promised to stay for him ; and I'll show you the whole place, if you 
 like." 
 
 Ellen thanked him for his offer ; and a group of peasants taking 
 advantage of this guidance, won through a pretty face, were per- 
 mitted, on asking leave, to join the party, of which Ellen was quite 
 the queen ; and no peasants ever had such satisfactory sight-seeing 
 in the Bastile as that group that day. There was nothing deserving of 
 notice neglected by the turnkey ; the narrowest spiral stair of its top- 
 most tower, and the lowest and most noisome depths of its souterrains, 
 were exhibited in the truest pride of a showman, who cared little whe- 
 ther it was their knees, or their hearts, he made ache, so he excited 
 their wonder ; for the more they wondered tie greater man was he ; 
 and as the greater man, of course, the more acceptable to the pretty 
 girl for whose sake all this was done. Occasionally, a halt was ob- 
 tained, by his stopping at some particular place to point out where a 
 stone had been once ingeniously removed, or an iron bar cut through, 
 to achieve an escape ; and such recitals made within the walls of this 
 terrible prison, whose very stones seemed to deny the possibility of 
 the tale, added such wonder to these stories, that they surpassed the 
 marvels of fairy lore. The turnkey, seeing the incredulous looks 
 sometimes cast upon him, and sometimes even called upon to answer 
 doubting querists, who would venture to question the janitor in that 
 peculiar excitement which an interest in an escape from bondage 
 always makes, would beg to remind them that only few, very few, had 
 
J 76 - £ s. (L 
 
 ever succeeded in such achievements. "No, no," he wouhl say, 
 " when once people get in here, they don't go out in a liurry. There, 
 for example," — and he banged his ponderous bunch of keys against a 
 door as he spoke — *' inside there is a prisoner who has never been out 
 of his cell for thirty years!" What a chill the words cast over his 
 hearers ! As for Ellen, she felt it to her heart's very centre, and put 
 up an inward prayer for God's special mercy over her father and herself 
 in that day of danger, and prayed that, with the shades of evening, his 
 guardian spirit might descend to shield them through their many perils. 
 This thought for self-preservation once passed, her gentle nature winced 
 as her imagination reverted to the poor captive within that door whereon 
 the crash of those ponderous keys had fallen. What did he think of that 
 startling noise ? — was it the executioner come to claim him ?— was the 
 hour arrived when death should relieve him from his misery ? — did he 
 hope so ; or did the love of life still exist in the withered heart of that 
 poor captive ? — or did he remember that this was the day when his 
 prison was open to public view ? Did he rejoice in hearing the hum 
 of human voices — this evidence of the presence of his fellows, even 
 through his prison-door ? — or did the contrast of their freedom with Ids 
 captivity make bondage more bitter ? Or was some remnant of human 
 pride still left to be wounded at the thought tliat his door was pointed 
 out, like some cage in a menagerie, as containing some special mon- 
 ster demanding heavier bars, and peculiar watching ? 
 
 Link after link of such heavy thoughts weighed down her spirit till 
 
 she almost wept, while the turnkey thought he was doing the most 
 
 .w, amiable thing in the world, and making himself particularly agreeable. 
 
 Passing along one of the broader and more airy passages, he stopped 
 at another door, and, shoving it open, said to Ellen, " You may look 
 in there," and pointed the way. She hesitated -, her ordinary courage 
 was subdued by the appalling influences with which she was sur- 
 rounded; and a thought shot through her brain, that, if she entered 
 within that door, it might be shut upon her ! She shuddered at the 
 terrible imagining. 
 
 "What are you afraid of?" said the Cerberus, laughing. " 'Tis 
 only my own room ; come in ! " and he led the way, beckoning EHen 
 and her father to follow, while the crowd remained outside. 
 
 The chamber seemed to be nothing more than a hollow in the 
 thickness of the wall, but was made as comfortable as such a place 
 could be. Its owner opening a little cupboard that hung in a corner, 
 produced a bottle of wine, and a glass, which he filled, and offered to 
 Ellen, remarking that sight-seeing was tiresome work, and that there 
 was yet much more to be gone over. 
 
 Ellen had experienced that sinking of heart which makes a restorative 
 so desirable, and therefore gladly accepted the proffered hospitality ; 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 177 
 
 and though the wine was but poor stuff, it was mo3t welcome. After 
 giving another glass to her father, the turnkey pledged them both in a 
 brimmer himself; and as he smacked his large protruding lips, assured 
 Ellen a girl might do worse than marry a turnkey. This was said 
 with a very significant look of admiration at lier, and a self-satisfied 
 grin, which showed tliat tlie gentleman stood on very good terms 
 with himself. 
 
 " I cannot often get leave to go out," said he, " but the first time 
 I can go to Lonjumeau, I will call and see you." 
 
 Ellen assured him it would give her and her father much pleasure. 
 
 " Whereabouts do you live there ?" 
 
 This was rather a puzzler, for Ellen had named Lonjumeau on the 
 spur of the moment, when he asked her where she came from, and 
 knew but little of the place ; she therefore was obliged to shelter her- 
 self under fresh inventions every step she took, and, for the present, 
 said she knew but little of the village, as they had only removed to it 
 within a few days. 
 
 " Oh, new comers," said the turnkey. " But then you know where 
 your own house is." 
 
 " Oh yes," said she, " to be sure. I am not so silly as not to know 
 my own house, though I am only a country girl." 
 
 " No, you don't look much like a fool," said the turnkey. 
 
 " La ! how ready you gentlemen of the city are at making compli- 
 ments," returned Ellen. 
 
 " Why, who could be uncivil to ?/ow?" said he, with a smirk. "But 
 where do you live ? — tell me that." 
 
 " You know the post-house," said Ellen— that being the only place 
 in the whole village she herself knew any thing about, and only knowing 
 that by having changed horses once in passing through. 
 
 " To be sure I know it," said the turnkey. 
 
 " AYell, as you pass the post-house, there is a turn down to the 
 left." 
 
 " I know it," said the turnkey — " there's a grocer's shop at the 
 corner." 
 
 " I believe there is," said Ellen ; '^ but I have such a bad memory, 
 and have been such a short time there — but turn down at that corner, 
 and there are some houses—" 
 
 " A great many," said the turnkey. 
 
 " Well, there's where we live," said Ellen. 
 
 " But in which ? " said the turnkey, who was determined on making 
 a visit. 
 
 "Do you remember any palings there?" asked Ellen, fishing for 
 knowledge. 
 
 •' To be sure I do — on the left." 
 
 N 
 
17J» £ s. d. 
 
 " Just so ! " said Ellen. " La ! how clever you city gentlemen are ! 
 you know every thing, if you only see with half an eye !" 
 
 " Oh, I remember quite well," said the turnkey, stimulated to fur- 
 ther description, " some small houses, with vines on their front." 
 
 " The very houses," said Ellen. 
 
 ** There is a house near," pursued he, " with a remarkable chimney." 
 
 Ellen, afraid of engaging too much in particulars, said she was not 
 sure. 
 
 " You must have seen this chimney." 
 
 " I'm not sure about the chimney, sir, but I am certain I have seen 
 smoke," said Ellen, with well-affected simplicity. 
 
 " Tut ! you pretty simpleton," said the turnkey, '• your eyes are too 
 good not to make better use of them." 
 
 " 'Tis the fourth house, sir," pursued Ellen. 
 
 '• The fourth. Very well, I'll find you out." 
 
 '•' You can't miss it, sir." 
 
 " But, in case of accident, you may as well give me your name, too, 
 that I might inquire in the neighbourhood." 
 
 " My name is Annette Claudet, sir," she answered ; and her ad- 
 mirer, satisfied with his inquiries, and promising a visit the first oppor- 
 tunity, offered another glass of wine, which being declined by father 
 and daughter, he played turnkey on the bottle ; and having locked it 
 up again in his corner cupboard, pursued his course of exhibition over 
 the prison. 
 
 There was a garden he showed, where the more favoured prisoners were 
 permitted to take exercise. To Ellen it seemed as if the few sickly 
 flowers were languishing for liberty, and could not bloom in bondage; and 
 the weakly trees appeared to have outgrown their strength in stretching 
 upwards, in the hopeless endeavour to get a peep over the wall at the 
 nature outside, for which they pined. " What melancholy reflections," 
 thought Ellen, " is this garden calculated to excite in those who are 
 indulged in the use of its walks, if they look on it as I do!" Thus 
 every fresh object she saw impressed her more and more with a sadness 
 approaching despondency ; and though she knew the place afforded her 
 temporary concealment, she longed for the approach of evening, which 
 would place her once more outside its walls, and permit her and her 
 father to pass unsuspected amidst the peasant groups beyond the 
 barriers of that city, where, even now, they were sought for by the 
 myrmidons of power. 
 
 The wished-for time at length arrived ; the Bastile began to pour 
 forth the gaping crowds of idlers ; and amongst the earliest of the 
 departing groups were the disguised fugitives, who had the good for- 
 tune to pass the barriers in safety, and breathed freer as they found 
 themselves on the open road; and when half an Jiour inore placed 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 170 
 
 them among quiet hedges, then Ellen, taking her father's hand, and 
 littering a fervent ejaculation of thankfulness to Heaven, ventured to 
 express her belief that they were now in safety. A walk of a few 
 miles brought them to the appointed place, where they might expect 
 to see their friends ; and as they approached the house, they saw one 
 of its windows open, which commanded a view of the Paris road ; 
 and, peeping from behind its curtains, the lovely face of Adrienne, 
 beamed with a benevolent joy as she caught the first glimpse of 
 the fugitives, and knew they were safe. After waving a welcome to 
 them, she retired from the window ; and by the time they reached the 
 little entrance gate, the hand of Adrienne herself had drawn its bolt, 
 and father and daughter were received in a pretty little parterre, and 
 gratulations were warmly exchanged among the party. 
 
 " Is Madame de Jumillac here ?" inquired Ellen. 
 
 " No," answered Adrienne. " But before you ask any questions, 
 you must sit down, and submit to regular eating and drinking ; for 
 neither you, nor Monsieur le Capitainey can have had any refresh- 
 ment for many hours, and remember, you have a long journey before 
 jou." 
 
 Ellen and her father obeyed the hospitable command, given with 
 so much grace and kindness, and partook of an elegant repast pre- 
 pared for them ; after which Adrienne told them how matters had 
 fared since they had parted in the morning. It was not long after 
 their disguise had been completed, that Madame de Jumillac's house 
 was visited, and strict search made for Lynch and his daughter; 
 which, failing there, was pursued in other quarters, the rank even of 
 Prince Charles Edward not screening his retirement from invasion. 
 
 " Under these circumstances," said Adrienne, " it was impossible 
 that Madame, or even the Prince, could be of the slightest use in 
 conducting the affair ; therefore you must pardon me if I undertook 
 to act in the place of your friends, and I hope you will not think me 
 intrusive in thus becoming an agent in your safety ; but you must 
 perceive at once, that any passports obtained through those channels 
 would have put your pursuers on your track, and, therefore, I advised 
 Madame de Jumillac to let me procure them, and further entreated 
 her to forego the desire she had of bidding you farewell. — Here is a 
 letter she entrusted to my care for you. Mademoiselle," — handing Ellen 
 a note, which was hastily opened, and read with suffused eyes, as the 
 expressions of touching tenderness reached her heart. — " And here, 
 Monsieur, is your passport. You had better look over it to see under 
 what name you travel ; and then the sooner you both cast your 
 disguise and prepare for the road the better, for a post-chaise ivill be 
 here anon, and it is needless to counsel speed under such cir- 
 
 n2 
 
180 £ s, (L 
 
 Her advice was followed ; and when Lj'nch and Ellen had resumed 
 their proper attire, and returned to the apartment where they had left 
 Adricnne, they found her engaged in packing up a little basket, 
 which she handed to Ellen, saying that, as they must travel all night, 
 she had put up a few confitures^ and some little restoratives, which 
 might be agreeable in the morning, when she would feel exhausted 
 after her night's fatigue. 
 
 " How thoughtful! — even to such trifles as these — you have been for 
 my sake, dear Madam," said Ellen, offering her hand. 
 
 Adrienne pressed it tenderly, touched at the earnestness of her 
 manner ; and the word " dear," so uttered, and coming from such 
 pure lips, sounded to her sensitive soul little short of a blessing. 
 
 " Let me kiss your hand!" said Adrienne respectfully, and as if 
 she felt she asked a favour. 
 
 The gentle soul of Ellen was touched at this proof of an erring 
 woman's sense of her loss of caste, — and that at a moment when so 
 much was due to her. With all the warm heai't and enthusiasm of 
 her country, Ellen threw wide her arms, and, while heaven-born tears 
 sprang to her eyes, she exclaimed, " My hand ! — how can you ask for 
 my hand only ? — Come to my heart !" 
 
 In a moment they were locked in each other's arms ; and Lynch, 
 stern though he was in his morality, blamed not the noble nature 
 of his pure child in thus mingling her embraces. He looked on 
 in silence, through which the sobs of the two women were audible, 
 and for some minutes neither could speak. 
 
 At lengtii Adrienne assumed her self-command, and, clearing the 
 tears from her eyes, gazed on Ellen for an instant with a look of 
 admiration and gratitude. " You are a noble creature," said she, 
 *' and worthy of all that could be done for you." 
 
 " And what have you not done ?" answered Ellen, — " preserved to 
 me my father !" 
 
 " And deeper still my debt," said Lynch, *•' you have preserved to 
 me a daughter." 
 
 " We must part," said Adrienne. " The carriage waits, and time 
 is precious. — Come !" She led to the entrance as she spoke ; and as 
 they stepped out into the parterre the soft beams of the moon shed a 
 soothing light on all things. 
 
 " And now, farewell, and Heaven speed you !" she said, turning to 
 Ellen. The moonlight fell full upon her fair forehead and deep and 
 lustrous eyes, and Adrienne thought she seemed more like a being of 
 heaven than earth. 
 
 "You are like an angel," she said, with almost devotion in her 
 voice, " and those soft sweet eyes beam peace into my very soul." 
 She stooped and plucked a stem from a rose tree ; '• T will keep tlicsc 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 181 
 
 roses," she said, " in remembrance of this hour ; and whenever I'see 
 them they will recall the benign look of those angelic eyes, and I can 
 fancy that a seraph, for once, looked kindly on me." 
 
 " Give me one of those flowers," said Ellen, " 'twill be precious to 
 me as to you." 
 
 They divided the stem between them ; and after a few last parting 
 Avords, and a fervent blessing from Adrienne, Ellen and her father 
 entered the carriage, and started on their toilsome and perilous 
 journey. 
 
 For many miles they were silent ; both were occupied with their 
 thoughts, — those of Ellen reverting to the scene in which she had been 
 engaged, while Lynch's were cast forward to the journey before them, 
 for the accomplishment of which one serious consideration pressed 
 upon him, namely, that he doubted if the money he had about him 
 would be sufficient to carry them through. He entered into conversa- 
 tion with Ellen on this point at last, and they held a gloomy council of 
 war as they drove through the darkness, for by this time the moon 
 had set. It was decided at last that they should exert themselves to 
 pass Blois as soon as possible, for, until then, while between Paris and 
 the seat of the Marshal, they must run the risk of encountering his 
 emissaries, should they be delayed at any intermediate post. A calcu- 
 lation of miles versus money was entered into, and Lynch, on reckon- 
 ing up his cash, almost doubted being able to accomplish this object. 
 They dare not write to Paris for money, as a letter might tend to 
 trace them, therefore they must send a letter all the way to Nantes 
 to obtain supplies. — It was in such anxious debate the night was 
 passed, and horses changed througliout the darkness at the successive 
 posts ; and the dawn began to break on the sleepless travellers, as they 
 approached the town of Etampes. There is something peculiarly 
 grateful to the senses in the return of day, when you have been 
 journeying for many hours through darkness ; and to spirits like those 
 of our travellers, overcast with anxieties for the future, that darkness 
 was yet more drear. It was with peculiar welcome, therefore, that 
 they saw the first rays of the sun burst from their purple bondage in 
 the east, and sparkle on the dewy vineyards through which they now 
 were travelling. Pleasant slopes, too, here and there, were stretching 
 down to the river Juine, and the sweet aspect of smiling nature shed 
 balm on Ellen's spirit. The spires of the town appeared in the 
 distance, rising among its surrounding meadows, and the morning 
 chimes of the bells of St. Martin floated on the refreshing breeze ; 
 the postilion cracked his whip with more energy, and the jaded hacks 
 pricked their ears, and seemed to step out more cheerfully, in expecta- 
 tion of the rack and manger of the hostelrie. In half an hour they 
 were entering on the skirts of the town, and Lynch suggested to 
 
182 £ s, d, 
 
 Ellen that ghe should refresh herself with breakfast, but assuring him 
 she felt no inclination as yet for the morning meal, they merely 
 changed horses and pursued their journey. The truth was, Ellen was 
 anxious to spare their purse as much as possible, and had determined 
 that the little basket of coiifitures should satisfy any craving of nature 
 until she had passed Blois. On reaching their next post, however, her 
 father again urged her to take some breakfast, but Ellen commenced 
 unlacing her little basket, and told him, with a significant nod, that 
 breakfast, dinner, and supper for the next two days were in that 
 little basket. 
 
 Lynch understood her motive in an instant, and urged her to be 
 sure she was not overrating her strength ; but Ellen, with a sweet 
 smile of assurance, bade him be content on that point. He called her 
 a brave girl, declared she might give even an old soldier a lesson on 
 prudence, and, acting on her suggestion, said he would subsist on an 
 occasional crust and buvette (as a hasty cup of refreshment was called) 
 until their point of danger was past. He quitted the post-chaise, and 
 entered the little inn to call for a cup of light wine, for Lynch, being 
 an old campaigner, was not afraid of that beverage in the morning. 
 As a pretty lively grisette was handing him the drink, Ellen suddenly 
 entered the house, her face beaming with excitement, and having 
 ordered the girl to bring them breakfast directly, took her father's 
 arm, and led him into the parlour of the inn. Lynch could not 
 account for this sudden revolution in Ellen's determination, and her 
 change of manner. 
 
 " Oh, father !" she exclaimed, while the flush of emotion restored 
 the colour to her cheek, — " that noble creature !" 
 
 The words would have been unintelligible, but that she opened the 
 little basket as she spoke, and there, lying amongst the conJitureSy was 
 a purse well stored with gold. 
 
 Lynch could not speak, nor Ellen utter another word, but with 
 trembling lip and glistening eye she stood looking at her silent father 
 till her heart was full to overflowing, and, unable longer to repress her 
 emotion, she threw herself on his breast and wept. 
 
 Ellen was not a crying lady, by any means ; but her tears on this 
 occasion may be pardoned, when we consider the sudden revulsion of 
 her feelings. At this point of need, when, to save a few livreSi she 
 was willing to abstain from needful sustenance, and opened her little 
 basket, content with the slender support it contained — heedless of 
 hunger in the more necessary desire for flight — at such a moment to 
 see a full purse was enough to make a full heart, and a stoic only 
 could be calm ; the difficulties and dangers which beset them were 
 lessened by this timely supply, and the demon Want, that so lately 
 threatened to be in league with their enemies, was overcome. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 183 
 
 The smiling grisette now made her appearance, the table was soon 
 spread for breakfast, and cheerfully did father and daughter sit down 
 to their morning repast. 
 
 " What is the name of this village, my girl?" inquired Lynch. 
 
 " It is called Montdesir, 3Ionsieur" 
 
 " An appropriate name," said Ellen to her father, " for the place 
 where we have found what was so much to be wished for ; d Mont- 
 desirfai trouve mon desir.^^ 
 
 *' Come ! " said her father, "I am glad to see you are merry 
 enough to make a calemhou7'ff" 
 
 They both, however, displayed renovated spirits ; and he was as 
 willing to listen to as she to utter lively sallies— for lively she was. 
 She had quite shaken off the gloom which oppressed her over- 
 night ; for it seemed to her that fate was inclined to favour their 
 escape, and Ellen augured well of the remainder of their journey. No 
 time was lost, however, in pursuing it ; fresh horses were ordered, and 
 now that they had got those golden wings which can transport the tra- 
 veller with accelerated speed, a trifling douceur in the stables always 
 secured the best pair of horses, and a bribe to the postilion pushed 
 them to their best pace, so that the next fifty miles were much sooner 
 passed than the former, and they were enabled to dine at Orleans. 
 Plere Lynch offered Ellen a few hours' rest ; but she preferred the 
 prosecution of their journey, and another night of travel was under- 
 taken. The next morning saw them approaching Blois ; this, the 
 point they were anxious to pass, w^as reached in safety ; and now they 
 were within twelve miles of the man who sought their capture : little 
 did the Marshal know how near to him was the prey his myrmidons 
 were then seeking in Paris. This proximity to their enemy made 
 Ellen very anxious, however, and she begged her father to make no 
 further delay than change of horses required. Even at Chousy and 
 Veuve she refused any refreshment ; and it was not until reaching 
 Haut Chantier that she took a slight breakfast. On they sped again, 
 and reached Tours in time for dinner ; which Ellen enjoyed more than 
 her breakfast, as her courage rose in proportion to the distance placed 
 between them and their enemy. Her father suggested some rest at 
 Tours ; but as there were still some hours of the day available, Ellen 
 declared herself strong enough to pursue the journey farther. Fresli 
 horpes were therefore ordered ; and now, leaving the southern route, 
 they struck off to the right, westward, making for the coast ; and 
 having achieved two posts and a half, Ellen was content to give the 
 night to sleep, and they rested at Pile St. Marc. 
 
18 1 £ s. (L 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 It was one morning, early in July, 1745, that a large merchantman 
 was seen, under jurymasts, making what sail she could up the Loire, 
 assisted in ascending the stream by being in tow of a handsome 
 French corvette, whose prize she seemed to be. On reaching Port 
 Launai they dropped their anchors, as the sands prevented vessels of 
 their burthen proceeding higher. 
 
 A boat Avas lowered from the corvette, and the Captain went on 
 shore to report himself. Being congratulated on bringing in a prize, 
 he replied, the prize was not so very much, as she was a Spaniard, 
 retaken from an English privateer ; and, therefore, as the vessel of a 
 friendly state, they could only claim salvage upon her. 
 
 " To judge from her masts," said the officer with whom he spoke, 
 " you did not get her without blows." 
 
 '• No ; the Englishmen fought like devils, and a great number were 
 killed ; such as there are I will send up to Nantes when the tide 
 makes. By the bye, that is a very pretty brig that lies in the river ; 
 do you know what she is ? " 
 
 " It is suspected she is meant for the service of the Chevalier 
 St. George. You know whom I mean ! " 
 
 " To be sure I do. Wasn't I at Dunkirk when the troops were 
 embarked in his cause, and didn't I barely escape going on the rocks? 
 Parbleu ! I shan't forget that gale in a hurry ! So he has got some- 
 thing in the wind again ?" 
 
 " So it is rumoured here." 
 
 " Well, I wish him better weather than he had last — that's all — 
 good bye ! " 
 
 As the naval officer was returning to his boat, lie was accosted by a 
 gentleman, who held out his hand, and claimed acquaintance. 
 
 " Do you not remember me ?" said the stranger. 
 
 "I have a recollection of your features, and yet I cannot recall 
 where it was we met." 
 
 " You don't forget Dunkirk ? " inquired the stranger. 
 
 " Ah ! I have it now. — The Irish Brigade — you were on board my 
 ship—" 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 185 
 
 " The same." 
 
 "Glad to see you," said the sailor, shaking him heartily by the 
 hand. " But you are not in uniform now, that is the reason I did not 
 remember you." 
 
 "Is the corvette here. Captain?" asked the stranger. 
 
 *•' Yes, there she lies yonder." 
 
 *•' Might I speak a word in private with you ?" 
 
 " Certainly. I am going on board this moment, will you come ?" 
 
 " Willingly." 
 
 " Something brewing, I suppose," said the Captain, with a sig- 
 nificant nod, and pointing to the pretty brig. 
 
 " We will speak of that when we get on board," returned the 
 stranger. 
 
 With these words he followed the Captain to his boat, and they were 
 rapidly rowed to the corvette ; and as they passed the prize, which 
 was lying close alongside, a voice shouted loudly, " Captain Lynch ! 
 Captain Lynch ! ! " 
 
 Lynch — for the strange companion of the naval commander was he, 
 looked up, and, with no small surprise, saw Ned leaning over the 
 bulwark of the merchantman, and waving his hand as he called 
 to him, saying he wished to speak with him. 
 
 Lynch explained to the Frenchman Ned's desire, which the Captain 
 said should be gratified, as he would send for him to come on 
 board the corvette. " 'Tis a strange chance that you should meet 
 here," said the Frenchman. " Do you know him well ?" 
 
 " Not intimately," said Lyn'ch. " But all I know of him I have 
 reason to like, for he has laid me twice under obligation — once deeply 
 so. He is a very spirited young fellow." 
 
 " I'll swear to that," said the Frenchman ; " for I never saw a man 
 fight a ship more gallantly." 
 
 " But what brought him fighting on board a Spanish ship ?" in- 
 quired Lynch. 
 
 " That is a most extraordinary piece of romance, which I can't 
 pretend to tell you, but which of course he can enlighten you upon 
 when you see him. His uncle, who is owner of the shij), and a Spanish 
 subject, interceded with me not to confine your young friend with the 
 rest of the prisoners, but to grant him parole; and as I had proved 
 him to be a gallant fellow, I made the old man happy in acceding to his 
 request. And now for this private affair of your own," he added, as 
 he led him into the cabin of the corvette, and pointed to a seat. 
 
 " You are right in your suppositions about the brig yonder," said 
 Lynch. — " I need say no more, — for the less said about secret expedi- 
 tions the better ; and however you may receive what I have to pro- 
 pose, you, of course, will afic'ct to known nothing about our designs. 
 
186 £ s. d. 
 
 We are all ready on board, but we dare not, in so lightly-armed a 
 vessel, venture to sail in British waters. We have been led to 
 expect, in an underhand way, (for the government will do nothing 
 for us openly,) the protection of a sixty-gun ship, but she is not yet 
 arrived, and we may be disappointed in the end, while every day's 
 delay is detrimental to our cause. Now, as you are cruising in the 
 Atlantic, could you not just as well take a turn with us to the northward, 
 and I am prepared to promise the Prince would not be ungrateful." 
 
 The Captain said he dare not act without orders; that every- 
 thing connected with the marine was cavilled at in those days, — that 
 no commander might risk the slightest overstepping of duty. 
 
 Lynch continued to tempt the sailor, suggesting many modes 
 whereby he might excuse or justify " a little run towards Scotland." — 
 " For instance," he said, " could you not suppose you saw a sail, and 
 say you chased it ? " 
 
 " You forget, my friend, that there are other eyes than a Captain's 
 on board ship, and that there are accounts kept of our doings. — I dare 
 not comply with your request." 
 
 Lynch, finding it vain, gave up his attempt, and returned to the 
 deck, where he found Ned had already arrived, and cordial was the 
 greeting he gave him, reminding him they had not seen each other 
 since the night they parted at Courtrai. 
 
 " And that you presented me with a sword," said Ned. 
 " Which I heard you made brave use of," returned Lynch. 
 Ned hereupon ventured to hope Ellen was well, colouring so deeply 
 as he spoke, that it was plain the inquiry was not uninteresting to him. 
 Lynch answered in the affirmative ; and said she would be glad to 
 see him if the Captain would extend his jmrole to a visit on shore ; 
 " for I hear you are a prisoner," said he, " and that there is some very 
 strange piece of romance about this affair in which you have been 
 engaged." 
 
 Ned owned it -svas so, and that he should be delighted to relate to 
 him the circumstances of the adventure, if he would favour him with 
 a visit on board the merchantman. 
 
 Lynch consented, and Ned was delighted, for he had many objects in 
 view in getting Lynch on board. In the first place, though he would 
 not join in practising a deceit on his shipmates regarding the gold 
 concealed in the snuff, he had no such scruples about Frenchmen, and 
 hoped to obtain through Lynch an agency by wliich this money 
 might be recovered. In the next place, he wished Lynch to under- 
 stand that he was his uncle's heir, and was anxious to set before the 
 eyes of his fair one's father the wealth to which he should succeed. 
 Great was Ned's joy, therefore, when he saw Lynch set his foot on 
 the deck of the merchantman, and presented to liim Senlior Carcojas, 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 187 
 
 for he still assumed tlie Spaniard, while Ned retained the name of 
 Fitzgerald. 
 
 After giving a rapid account of his privateering adventure, Ned then 
 confided to Lynch the secret of the hidden gold, and the means whereby 
 it might be saved, concluding with asking Lynch's assistance. 
 
 Lynch paused for a moment, and, after some consideration, said he 
 knew a little of the Captain of the corvette, with whom he had once 
 sailed, and though he should be glad to oblige Ned, yet, for the 
 interest of a gentleman to whom he had only just been introduced, he 
 would not like to interfere in such an affair. 
 
 " Allow me on that point, sir," said Ned, " to set you right. — My 
 uncle's generosity permits me to say, that what is his — is mine; there- 
 fore, in giving us your aid in this, you oblige me rather than him." 
 
 " Well, that alters the case," said Lynch, " and as I owe you my 
 good offices, perhaps I may assist you." 
 
 " Ah, sir !" said old Jerome, — " do not say perhaps, — say you will. 
 Did you but know the ardent desires that have put this boy of mine on 
 his adventures, I am sure you would sympathize with him. He has 
 been acting under the dominion of a romantic passion, which spurred 
 him to seek sudden wealth in desperate adventure, in the doing which 
 he unconsciously despoiled me, his uncle. Chance led him to discover 
 this, and though he might have kept the secret, his conscience would 
 not let him; he humiliated himself in repentant acknowledgment 
 before me, and that act of grace won him lasting fiivour in my eyes. 
 Since then, the honourable spirit to his companions in adventure, 
 which urged him to defend thi^ ship to the utmost, against his own 
 interest, has raised him in my esteem, and therefore I beg to repeat 
 to you, sir, that whatever is mine is his ; and as I have told you the 
 love of a lady has been the prime mover in all his affairs, I may as 
 well be candid with you, and tell you also, that not only whatever is 
 mine is his — but is also — your daughter's — if she will do him the 
 honour to share it with him." 
 
 This was a most unexpected proposition to Lynch, who was silent 
 for some minutes, during which Ned, who was rather " taken aback" 
 by his uncle's out-speaking, hung down his head, and dared not look at 
 Ellen's father. 
 
 When Lynch broke silence, it was in a question to Ned. — " Does 
 ray daughter know you love her ?" said he. 
 " She does." 
 
 " Is the love returned ? " 
 
 " I dare not hope that,^^ said Edward. — " It was in those few 
 hurried moments of danger at Bruges, which you alluded to, that I 
 had the hardihood to throw myself at her feet." 
 '• And what did she answer?" 
 
188 £ S'. d. 
 
 " Nothing, ill fact," said Ned. " She did not encourage — but— I 
 may say — neither did she disdain me." 
 
 " Fairly answered," returned Lynch ; '• and I will as fairly tell you 
 my intention for her is another alliance." 
 
 Ned could not answer in words, but there was an expression of 
 despair in the look he cast upon Lynch more eloquent than language, — 
 so eloquent that it touched him. And he continued, — " At the same- 
 time I must confess she has given no answer on the subject ; and on a 
 subject so serious, she shall never be controlled by me to accept — how- 
 ever I may consider myself justified in the authority to object , — or, at 
 least, delai/." 
 
 Peculiar emphasis was laid on the last word ; and it was painful to 
 watch the changes that pas^sed over Edward's face as the sentences 
 followed each other. 
 
 " Now I have two propositions to make," continued Lynch. " There 
 is an expedition undertaken to replace the rightful king of England 
 on his throne ; in that expedition we want brave men and ready 
 money. Now, sir," said he, addressing the old man, '-if I get your 
 valuable snuff out of jeopardy, will you advance a loan of a thousand 
 pieces to Prince Charles, to procure arms and ammunition, which we 
 need ?" 
 
 " Willingly," said the old man. *' I wish his cause well." 
 
 " And will you," he said to Edward, " give the aid of a bold heart 
 and able hands to the cause, as the price of my consent?" 
 
 " With all my heart !" said Ned. 
 
 '• I must make this additional proviso," added Lynch, " that until 
 our expedition has struck its blow, no word of love must pass between 
 you and my daughter." 
 
 This damped Ned's rising spirits : but it was such a brightening of 
 his hopes to have his pretensions entertained in the least, that he 
 agreed to the condition, but hoped he might be permitted to see her. 
 
 Her father consented to this, and Ned's heart bounded with joy ; 
 but a sudden difficulty presented itself to him in the recollection that 
 he was a prisoner. 
 
 " That is a difficulty easily got over," said Lynch ; " offer to enlist 
 in the L^ish Brigade, and the commandant of Nantes will be ready 
 enough to give you your liberty ; and, when once enrolled, it will be 
 easy to manage that you join the expedition. 
 
 Lynch set out for Nantes at once, where Ned's liberation was 
 effected ; and the secret of the gold was confided to Walsh, the mer- 
 chant, who, in consequence, became the purchaser of the snuff when 
 the cargo of the prize Avas offered for sale, which it was in a few days. 
 This valuable lot of tobacco was sent off to a private store, where the 
 peculiar virtues of the snuft* were extracted ; and though, in modern 
 
TllKASURE TllOVE. 189 
 
 times, much is asserted in flaming advertisements of the rare qualities 
 of certain eye snuffs, we venture to affirm that no snuff was ever so 
 good for anybody's eyes as that proved to Don Jerome's. 
 
 The thousand promised pieces were handed over for Charles Edward's 
 service, and a commission promised to Ned in the first regiment the 
 Prince should raise on his landing. 
 
 Ned was now amongst the most impatient of all for the arrival of 
 the promised convoy ; he longed to embark in the expedition, which, 
 by engaging him in the honourable profession of arms, would elevate 
 him at once to the rank he desired, — a rank entitling him to the com- 
 pany of a peer, or the hand of a lady. — But as yet he had not seen 
 Ellen, though her father assured him he should before they sailed ; 
 day after day passed, however, without this promised pleasure being 
 fulfilled. At length the Elizaheth, a ship of sixty-seven guns, was 
 reported to be waiting at Belleisle, to convoy the brig ; and the 
 stores were at once forwarded to the man-of-war, and the Prince's 
 adherents given notice to hold themselves in readiness for embarkation 
 on the morrow. In the mean time they were all invited to an enter- 
 tainment that evening, which the Prince gave before his departure. 
 There were a few young nobles and men of rank who had followed 
 him to Nantes, — some to join him in the expedition, some to witness 
 his departure, and breathe good wishes for speed and safety to his 
 sails. Among this goodly company were some noble ladies ; and his 
 fast friend, the young Duke de Bullion, graced this gallant little 
 circle. Hitherto, all these gay people, as well as the Prince, observed 
 great quietness while waiting for the arrival of the convoy, wishing 
 the intended expedition to be as little bruited as possible ; but now 
 that the hour of departure had arrived, one brilliant meeting was 
 agreed to, where hopeful hearts might cheer the adventurer with 
 parting gratulations, fair lips whisper blessings on his course, and 
 brimming glasses foam to the heartfelt toast of success to the throne- 
 seeker. 
 
 There are times when the great find it their interest to be gracious; 
 and at this parting reunion given by the Prince, there were no excep- 
 tions made among his adherents. Walsh, the merchant, was there, 
 and Ned, as the young gentleman who was to have a commission, was 
 presented to the Prince ; and his uncle, who had advanced the thou- 
 sand pieces, was also a guest. It may be imagined how Ned's love of 
 gentility was gratified by being presented to a real, live prince — join- 
 ing in the same party with noble ladies, and a whole duke, to say 
 nothing of some clippings of nobility that were scattered about. 
 But beyond this was his joy at seeing his lovely Ellen once more. 
 She received him with a most gracious smile, and spoke with him for 
 a good while; sharing her conversation, however, with Kirwan. who 
 
190 £ s. d. 
 
 kept near her, and seemed studious in his attentions. " Ah ! " 
 thought Ned, " there he is again." It was manifest her father favoured 
 the suit of Kirwan ; and the promise under which Ned was hound, 
 placed him at a sad disadvantage ; — he was pledged not to speak one 
 word of love ; but Ned, however, could not help looking it ; and he 
 met Ellen's eyes two or three times in the course of the evening in a 
 way no woman could misunderstand. She — La belle Irlandaise — 
 received the choicest courtesies of the most distinguished men in the 
 room ; her foot was lightest in the dance, her lip most eloquent in 
 repartee, though fair forms and quick wits were there. Brightly 
 passed that evening ; every heart seemed wrought to its highest 
 bent ; and flashing eyes and brilliant smiles met Charles Edward on 
 every side, shedding hopefulness over his spirit, and seeming to prog- 
 nosticate triumph to that expedition which ended so fatally. 
 
 " Brightly then, to Fancy's seeming, 
 The wily web of Fate was gleaming ; 
 The warp was gold, of dazzling sheen. 
 But dark the weft she wove between." 
 
 So wrote one in after years ; one who then was present, and smiled 
 and hoped like the rest. And sweet voices were there, and lays of 
 the gallant troubadours were sung, as befitting such a meeting. One 
 beautiful girl gave an old romaunt of Provence ; one of those strange 
 conceits which breathe of love and chivalry. We shall try a metrical 
 version of the quaint old thing, which was called — 
 
 'Zlz l^antr anlr ^]&e (ffilcbe. 
 
 To horse ! to horse ! " the trumpet sings, midst clank of spear and shield ; 
 
 The knight into his saddle springs, and rushes to the field ! 
 
 A lady looked from out her bower, the stately knight drew near, 
 
 And from her snowy hand she dropt her glove upon his spear. 
 
 He placed it on his helmet's crest* and join'd the gallant band ; — 
 
 " The lady's glove it now is mine, but soon I'll win the hand ! " 
 
 n. 
 
 Above the plunging tide of fight their plumes now dance like spray ; 
 And many a crest of note and might bore proudly through the fray ; 
 But still the little glove was seen the foremost of the band ; 
 And deadly blows the fiercest fell from that fair lady's hand I 
 Before him every foeman flies ; his onset none can stand ; 
 More fatal e'en than ladies' eyes was that fair lady's hand ! 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 191 
 
 III. 
 
 And now the trumpet sounds retreat, the foeman drops his crest ; 
 
 The fight is past, the sun has set, and all have sunk to rest — 
 
 Save one — who spurs his panting steed back from the conquering band ; 
 
 And he who won the lady's glove— now claims the lady's hand. 
 
 'Tis won ! — 'tis won ! that gallant knight is proudest in the land ; 
 
 Oh, what can nerve the soldier's arm like hope of lady's hand ! 
 
 The song, of course, was received with enthusiasm, where so many 
 soldiers were present ; and as the exclamations of " hrave^^ and 
 " charmant^'' ran from lip to lip, Ned was curious to know what the 
 meaning of the song w^as which pleased so much, and inquired of 
 Ellen, who hastily gave him the point of the romance. 
 
 Ned was quite charmed with the idea, which inspired him with the 
 notion of making it serve himself a good turn. He had promised not 
 to speak of love to Ellen, but to "give her a hint" now lay so fair 
 before him, he could not resist it. Bowing low beside her chair, he 
 said in a voice, sweet with lovingness, " Do you know that I have got 
 a cjloxie of yours already ? " 
 
 "A glove of mine?" said Ellen, in surprise, and blushing at the 
 obvious implication. 
 
 " Yes," he said, and was going to tell her how he obtained it, when 
 Lynch approached, and he could say no more. She was soon led again 
 to dance, and Ned had no further opportunity of exchanging a word 
 with her. Supper soon after was announced, and a bright last hour 
 was spent ; foaming pledges of champaign passed round the brilliant 
 board ; and, at last, the parting toast of success to the expedition was 
 given. The glasses were drained, and flung backward over each 
 man's head, that their brims, so honoured, might never bear a toast 
 less precious. The ladies rose and waved their handkerchiefs, and 
 tears of excitement glistened on bright cheeks that were dimpled with 
 smiles of gratulation. The joyous party broke up, and soon the dawn 
 appeared of that busy day which w^as to see the adventurers on the 
 water. Port Launai was a scene of bustle at an early hour : a swift 
 cutter lay ready to bear the larger portion of the Prince's adherents 
 on board the Elizabeth^ which lay outside the harbour of Belleisle, 
 while a chosen few should bear the Prince company on board the 
 Doutelle. Among these were Lynch and his daughter ; and before 
 Ned embarked on board the cutter, he had the mortification to see 
 Kirwan hand Ellen into one of the Doutelle s boats, and seat himself 
 beside her, followed by her father and Walsh, who sailed on board his 
 own brig, to do the honours to the Prince. 
 
 Thus was he separated again from Ellen, while his rival had the 
 
192 £ S. (L 
 
 advantage of bearing her company. Ned was ungallant enough, 
 however, to make a very horrid speech to himself. " She'll he sea- 
 sick," thought Ned, " and won't be in much humour for love-making 
 — that's a comfort." 
 
 Oh, fie ! Ned ! 
 
 He, at the same time, felt a pride in being on board the ship which 
 should protect the bark that bore his " ladye-love ; " and when, Avith 
 favouring breeze, the two vessels in company stood out to sea, there 
 was no eye watched the beautiful Doutelle so eagerly as Ned's. 
 
 For three days they thus kept company, and were unobserved by 
 the British cruisers ; but on the fourth a ship, bearing the English 
 flag, hove in sight, and bore down on them. Under present circum- 
 stances, to avoid a hostile collision was desirable ; therefore every 
 effort was made to get off without an action ; but from the point the 
 wind blew, the Englishman had the power to force them to battle ; 
 and though inferior, by ten guns, to the Elizabeth, determined to 
 engage her, and the brig of 18 as well. The French man-of-war 
 cleared for action, and took a position between the enemy and the 
 Doufelie, whose men were at their quarters also, ready to assist her 
 consort, and annoy the British ship, who now opened her guns, as she 
 bore down gallantly against such odds. The Frenchman returned the 
 fire with promptitude, ar.d the shot soon began to tell on both sides ; 
 in ten minutes more the IJoii and Elizabeth were hard at it, pouring 
 broadsides into each other with murderous effect. And now it was 
 that the Doutelle might have done good service ; though her weight 
 of metal could not have damaged much so large a ship as the Lion, yet 
 her guns, well used, might have anno}^ed her considerably, while 
 engaged with a vessel of superior force ; but, shame to tell, she 
 sheered off, and made all sail, in a disgraceful flight, leaving her con- 
 sort to sustain the whole brunt of the action, which was fiercely main- 
 tained for six hours ; after which, both ships were so damaged, that 
 they mutually gave up the contest. The Elizabeth was in too shattered 
 a condition to keep the sea ; therefore she returned to her own shores 
 — a fatal mischance for Charles Edward, for she bore all the military 
 stores. How drooped the hearts of his adherents on board as they thought 
 of the unprovided state in which their Prince would reach Scotland, 
 should he dare to continue jhis course ; but heavier drooped the heart 
 of poor Ned, who saw himself again separated from all that was dear 
 to him on earth, without the smallest chance of knowing where or 
 when he might ever see her more. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 While Ned was grieving for his separation from Ellen, Fincli was 
 regretting the loss of Ned. The gallant fight Ned sustained in the 
 merchantman enhanced his value in Finch's eyes ; and when the 
 overwhelming fire of the corvette drove the privateer from the support 
 of her prize, and forced her to seek in flight her own safety and that 
 of the treasure she had already secured. Finch was moved to a deeper 
 regret for Ned's mishap in falling into the enemy's hands than his 
 nature was often susceptible of entertaining ; while in this mood, and 
 while Ned's gallantry was fresh in their memories. Finch proposed to 
 the crew, that, in the division of their booty, when they should return, 
 Ned and his -gallant companions in the prize ghould not be forgotten, 
 but their shares allotted and set aside, in case they should survive and 
 return to England to claim them. This, with that generosity which 
 characterizes seamen, was readily agreed to, and the privateer having 
 suffered considerably in the action, it was considered advisable to 
 return to port, to secure what tliey had already got, and refit before 
 they should seek more, unless some small prize should fall in their way. 
 Their good luck prevailed in this respect ; they picked up a little 
 French merchantman after a run of a couple of days, which raii:ed the 
 spirits of the adventurers, and greatly consoled them for the loss of 
 the Spaniard. They should have the satisfaction, too, of "lugging 
 something after them" into port, — a great joy to Jack, — and when, 
 after much vigilance to keep clear of the swarm of privateers, both 
 French and Spanish, that hovered about the mouth of the channel, 
 they caught the first glimpse of their own cliffs, where security 
 awaited them, how the heart of every seaman bounded ! There is no 
 one has the same delight and pride in his native land as a sailor, — it 
 beats that of a landsman hollow ; — nor can we wonder at this if we 
 consider the circumstances that engender the feeling : — Is it not most 
 natural, that, after long and dangerous absences on the waste of waters, 
 the sight of his own shores should touch the seaman's heart ? — that he 
 should rejoice in the coming pleasure of embracing those who wept 
 his departure and shall smile at his return : — 
 
 " 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye to mark 
 Our coming — anrl grow brighter when we come :" — 
 
194 £ s. d. 
 
 and though the thought could not be so beautifully expressed by the 
 rough tar, still is it felt as deeply. In anticipation he pictures the 
 bright glance of joy with which his wife or his sweetheart will rush 
 to his embrace, — he opens his arms on empty air, and folds them on 
 his breast, — he fancies the loved one is within them, and in the delu- 
 sion of the moment exclaims, "Bless her!" 
 
 Even such gentle emotions stirred some of the hearts among the 
 dare-devils on board the privateer ; and as they filled the cup to 
 drink " Welcome home to old England," Tresham found a ready echo in 
 every bosom as he raised his voice in praise of the " white cliffs." 
 Never was song hailed with louder welcome, nor joined in with heartier 
 chorus, than these careless rhymes which picture the vessel returning 
 **from foreign," lowering her boats over the side, and bearing the 
 islanders to their native strand : — 
 
 Our ©hjit WiW ariiff. 
 
 The boat that left yon vessel's side, 
 
 Swift as the sea-bird's wiug, 
 Doth skim across the sparkling tide 
 
 Like an enchanted thing ! 
 Enchantment, there, may bear a part, 
 
 Her might is in each oar. 
 For love inspires each island heart 
 
 That nears its native shore ; 
 And as they gaily speed along, 
 The breeze before them bears their song : 
 " Oh, merrily row, boys — merrily ! 
 Bend the oar to the bounding skifF, 
 Of every shore 
 Wide ocean o'er, 
 There's none like our own white cliff!" 
 
 Through sparkling foam they bound — they dart- 
 
 The much-loved shore they nigh — 
 "With deeper panting beats each heart, 
 
 More brightly beams each eye ! 
 As on the crowded strand they seek 
 
 Some well-known form to trace. 
 In hopes to meet some blushing cheek, 
 
 Or wife, or child's embrace ; 
 The oar the spray now faster flings, 
 More gaily yet each seaman sings : 
 
 " Oh, merrily row, boys— merrily ! 
 Bend the oar to the bounding skiff, 
 Of every shore, 
 Wide ocean o'er, 
 There's none like our own white cliff ! " 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 195 
 
 Before sun-down the privateer had dropped Jier anchor in a native 
 harbour, and the scene represented by the fancy of the bard was 
 enacted in reality. The shore-ward boats — the plashing oars — the 
 eager eyes and expectant friends — all, all were there ; and the sailors 
 flushed with prize-money, and their friends willing to spend it with 
 them, made the town boisterous with their festivity ; and 
 
 Midnight shout and revelry, 
 Tipsy dance and jollity 
 
 ruled the "small hours" of the four-and-twenty. 
 
 Finch came on shore, but did not join in such rude mirth. He 
 proceeded to London, preferring to spend any spare time he could 
 afford, there; and really anxious to tell the good-hearted landlady 
 the luck of his adventure, and return the sum she had lent him. On 
 reaching the capital he proceeded at once to his old haunt; and the 
 first object which attracted his attention in the bar, was Phaidrig-na- 
 pib petting the landlady's little girl on his knee ; and the familiarity 
 of the child with the blind piper indicated that he had something like 
 a family position in the establishment. 
 
 Finch hailed the piper. 
 
 " Arrah, is that yourself, then, so soon back ?" exclaimed Phaidrig. 
 
 " You know me, then," said Finch. 
 
 " To be sure I do." 
 
 " What's my name, then?" 
 
 " Sure I heard you spake more than once, Captain Finch ; and once 
 is enough for me. Why is not the young masther with you?" He 
 meant Ned. 
 
 " How do you know he is not with me?" enquired Finch, in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Oh, by a w^ay of my own :— where is he ? " 
 
 " I am sorry to tell you he is a prisoner." 
 
 " Oh, my poor fellow!" exclaimed Phaidrig, in distress, clapping 
 his hands: — "A prisoner! — Who cotch him?" 
 
 " The French." 
 
 " The Lord be praised!" said Phaidrig, as if his mind was greatly 
 relieved. 
 
 Finch, in surprise, asked why he gave thanks for his friend being 
 taken prisoner by the French. 
 
 " Bekaze I was afeerd it was the English had him," said Phaidrig. 
 
 ^^ And would you rather he w^as prisoner in France than Eng- 
 land?" 
 
 " Faix, I would ; sure, he might meet with some friends there. 
 The Brigade is there, and if all fails, can't he list? — Throth, that 
 Brigade— my blessin' on it— is as good as a small estate to the wild 
 
 o2 
 
196 £ S. d. 
 
 young Irish gentry. Besides, if a sartin person I know is in France, 
 and knew of the lad being there, he'd give him a lift, I go bail." 
 
 " I guess the person you mean." 
 
 " Throth, you don't: — how could you?" 
 
 Finch whispered a name, and a few secret words, in Phaidrig's ear, 
 to which the piper replied by a long low whistle ; and, turning uj) his 
 face, and fixing his sightless eyes as though he would look at Finch, 
 exclaimed in a suppressed tone, " Tare-an-ouns — how did you know 
 that?" 
 
 *' Oh, a way of my own— as you said to me just now." 
 
 '* Come up, come up," said Phaidrig, rising and leading tlie way : — 
 *' Come up to the little room, and we'll talk — we mustn't spake in 
 the bar here." 
 
 He led the way up -stairs, and Finch and he were soon seated in a 
 snug' little bed-room, where Phaidrig's hat and pipes, hanging against 
 the wall, indicated the apartment to be his own. 
 
 " You seem quite at liome, here," said Finch. 
 
 " Oh yes," answered Phaidrig ; " the misthris is a kind crayther : — 
 Afther you and Misther Ned went off in that hurry, she took pity on 
 me, as a dark man, without friends, in a strange place, and offered me 
 shelther till it plazed me to go back to Ireland ; so the few days I was 
 resting here I used^ to play the pipes below-stairs to rise the money 
 for the journey, and, by dad, the people used to like it so well — (the 
 pipes I mane) — that they came twice to hear me, and brought a frind 
 with them, so that when I was thinking of making a start of it for 
 Ireland, Mrs. Banks, the darlin', comes to nie, and, says she, ^Faydrig,^ 
 says she, for the English can't get their tongues round the fine soft 
 sound of our language at all, and does be always clippin' it, like the 
 coin * — the crayther could no more get the fine mouthful of soft 
 sound, than climb the moon — she couldn't say Faw-dhrhj for the life 
 of her ; but she has a fine soft heart for all that ; and, says she, * I 
 wish you'd continue playing in the house,' says she, ' for you are bring- 
 ing custom to it, and, to make you as comfortable as I can, and not 
 give you the throuble of groping your way along the streets,' says she, 
 * you shall liavc a room in the house, and share of the best that is 
 going.'" 
 
 " I suppose the end of all this is," said Finch, "that you have mar- 
 ried the widow ?" 
 
 " Oh no, captain," said Phaidrig, laughing ; " fiiix I niver tried to get 
 at the soft side of her heart ; and I'll tell you why — because it might 
 get her into throuble — as you'll see, when I tell you all in a minute or 
 two more — and I wouldn't hurt or harm her for the world, for she's as 
 fine a hearted crayther as ever breathed the blessed air of life." 
 ^ * Coin-clipping was a common Offence at the period. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 197 
 
 " That she is indeed," said Finch. 
 
 " Well— I staid when she asked me — and. somehow or other, there 
 wor many genthry came about the house when they heerd an Irish 
 piper was here, and among them, from time to time, I got the ' hard- 
 word '* that there were warm hearts here in London for one that was 
 ' over the water,'f and they used to ask me to private parties to play — 
 ' by the way ;'^ but it was probing me deep, they wor, about the hopes 
 of the ' blackbird' in the bushes in ould Ireland : and I have seen more 
 than one noble lord about the matther." 
 
 " More, I have no doubt," said Finch, with emphasis. 
 
 " What do you mane?" inquired the piper. 
 
 '• Put a Barry to that," was the answer. 
 
 " Wow wow!" ejaculated Phaidrig ; " I see you know more than I 
 thought. Well, my Lord Barrymore hears from Scotland regular ; and 
 Ave are towld that we may be expectin' somethin' there afore long." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," said Finch. 
 
 " Ah then, now, captain," said Phaidrig, '• don't be angry if I ask 
 you one question" 
 
 " Not if you ask me fifty," said Finch. 
 
 " How comes it, that, being in with our side, you go on the sea and 
 attack the French and Spaniards, that would help us ?" 
 
 "A fair question, Phaidrig; and I'll give as fair an answer: — 
 When I was engaged in the * free-trade,'§ as we call it, I had occasional 
 communications with adherents of ' Somebody,' and was always willing 
 to give a cast across the water to gentlemen in distress ; and I don't 
 say but I would as soon see the man who 'sits in Charley's chair' out 
 of it ; for, to be candid, I care very little for either of them ; but, as in 
 those great affairs, — poor men like me seldom come in for anything but 
 blows, — and the profits are only for the few, and the rich, I don't see 
 any harm in making my own fortune in my own way, and feathering 
 my nest while I may ; and while the war is a-foot, and English pri- 
 vateers will go out and seize French ships, I don't see why I shouldn't 
 pick up my crumbs as well as others, for whichever side is uppermost 
 won't care a curse for me when peace is made: therefore, though I 
 would not betray any man engaged in this political game — and per- 
 haps go as far as to wish them well — neither will I join in it, but get 
 on as fast as I can in lining my pocket with French and Spanish 
 prize-money — I don't care which." 
 
 " But suppose you wor made a captain of a man-of-war, where you 
 
 * Secret intelligence, or signal, 
 t The well-lino-wn phrase indicating the Stuart. 
 X A pretence. 
 
 § In one of the early numbers of this work, the term " free trade" was objected to 
 hy a critic, as aii anachronism ; hut it is frequently found in the writings of the time. 
 
198 £ S. d. 
 
 would have prize-money all the same, and honour and glory into the 
 bargain?" 
 
 " But where's the man-of-war, Phaidrig?" 
 
 " Sure, we'll take them!" said the piper. 
 
 " Easier said than done, Phaidrig." 
 
 *' I wish you'd talk to Lord Barrymore — maybe it's an admiral 
 you'd be?" 
 
 Finch laughed at the sanguine expectation of the Irish piper. 
 
 " You might as well have a word with him — I'm going there 
 to-night." 
 
 Finch declined, and expressed his wonder that Phaidrig should have 
 anything to do with such desperate affairs, more particularly under 
 the privation of sight, which rendered him so helpless in case acci- 
 dent should throw him into the hands of his enemies. 
 
 " I can't help it," said Phaidrig ; " though I have no eyes, I have a 
 heart all the same, and it beats for the rightful king— and whenever 
 the row begins, I must be in it." 
 
 " You don't mean to say you'll join the fighting parties?" 
 
 ^ To be sure I will. Won't him I love best in the world be there — 
 the bowld Lynch, I mane? — and won't I folly him to the death? — and 
 one comfort is, that though I am blind, and worse oflf than others in 
 that regard, I'm not worse off in another, and that is — I can die but 
 once." 
 
 " But you run greater risk ; for should danger hem you in you 
 could not escape." 
 
 " That would be an advantage: for when I could not see to run I'd 
 stand; and don't you think many would stand with me? — for who, 
 with a heart in him, would desert the poor blind man in the front of 
 the fight? — and it's there I'll be (plaze God!) lilting away for them, 
 rousing the blood in them ! — Hurroo ! " 
 
 He waved his hand wildly above his head as he spoke, and Finch 
 looked in admiration upon the heroic blind man, who, unable to restrain 
 his enthusiasm, jumped up, hastily reached down his pipes from the 
 peg where they hung, and began playing a wild battle tune. The 
 noise of the music in the house attracted attention, and in two or 
 three minutes the door was opened, and Mrs. Banks made her appear- 
 ance ; her joy and surprise were great at the sight of Finch, who, as 
 usual, saluted her heartily; and Phaidrig, hearing the smack, cried 
 out — 
 
 " Ah, Captain, you divil, you're at it again." 
 
 " Don't object, Phaidrig — she's not yours yet," said Finch, who saw 
 in the heightened colour his words called up to the cheeks of Mrs. 
 Banks, that his suspicions of the favour in which Phaidrig was held, 
 were not unfounded. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Not many days after Finch's arrival in London, rumour, with her 
 thousand tongues, began to whisper alarm to the timid, and hope to 
 the disaffected. Rambling reports reached the capital of a descent 
 upon Scotland, and at last it was beyond doubt that Charles Edward 
 was landed. It was true, the adventurous prince had dared to do this 
 with seven devoted men, trusting to the well-known attachment of the 
 Highlanders to his cause for further support ; but the horror-mongers 
 of London had strengthened him with a French army of ten thousand 
 men, and the old women were in hourly dread of the capital being 
 sacked by the wild Highlanders. The town was in a ferment. The 
 proclamation, warning the papists not to come within ten miles of 
 London, was posted up afresh in all the public places — the guards 
 were doubled — the corporations met and voted addresses, assuring the 
 king of the attachment and unshaken loyalty of his good city of London, 
 though these addresses were not passed without opposition, some being 
 found stout enough to dispute that England had no right to prefer the 
 existing government to any other, unless they would promise a redress 
 of grievances, curtailment of expenses, and consequent reduction of taxes 
 rendered necessary by the king's passion for foreign wars, and desire 
 to aggrandize his Hanoverian subjects at England's expense — " Where 
 is he now, for instance ?" exclaimed Alderman Heathcote, in the com- 
 mon council. " He is at Hanover, this moment, which he seems to 
 think more of than his goodly kingdom of England, invaded during 
 his absence. Why is he not on the spot to guard his throne and 
 people ?" 
 
 " As for his people," exclaimed a second, '- he does not concern 
 himself much about them — however danger to his throne may alarm 
 him." 
 
 " Let him look to it, or he may lose it," said Alderman Heathcote. 
 
 " Order ! order !" was loudly exclaimed by the loyalists. 
 
 " Take down his words !" cried a hanger-on of the court party. 
 
 " Do !" cried the Alderman — " Few words uttered here are worth 
 taking down ; they make a pleasant variety. I am an English- 
 man, and love my liberties ; and I do not see any difference in being 
 
200 £ S. (I, 
 
 under the evil dominion of a Guelph or a Stuart. We are taxed for 
 the benefit of foreigners — the interests of England are sacrificed to 
 the interests of Hanover. Are the many to be sacrificed for the few ? 
 The navy is going to ruin, though the only force we can depend on. 
 Where is our army ? Abroad, to fight the battles of strangers ; our 
 petted army is reduced, year after year, in numbers, in wasteful, use- 
 less, and costly campaigns. Dettingen and Fontenoi are wet with 
 English blood ; the one a worthless victory, the other a disastrous 
 defeat. On whom are we to depend for the safety of our own shores ? 
 On Dutch and Hanoverians? In the good old days of England's 
 glory, Englishmen had hands to defend their own heads, and needed 
 not the aid of foreigners. Who decided the battle against us at Fon- 
 tenoi ? The Irish Brigade. Why should we deprive ourselves of the 
 natural aid of such brave brotherhood?" 
 
 " They are papists, and not to be trusted," said Finch's friend, the 
 liberal Mister Spiggles. 
 
 " But the government refuses to trust even the L-ish Protestants," 
 returned the Alderman. 
 
 " No, no !" cried the court party. 
 
 " I repeat it," cried Heathcote. " The Earl of Kildare offered to 
 raise a regiment, at his own exjjense, to support the government, and 
 was told the king did not need his services ;* while English lords, who 
 offer and are allowed to raise regiments, demand also that they shall 
 be put on the government establishment, like the rest of the army- — 
 there's a contrast for you ! Our government refuses the loyal Irish 
 earl's disinterested offer, while it accepts the bargain-and-sale loyalty 
 of your English whig lords. Not one of them has offered to raise a 
 regiment gi'atis." 
 
 " The Archbishop of York," replied one of the court party, *' has 
 organized a body of armed men without asking government money." 
 
 " Yes," said Heathcote ; " and put himself at their head." 
 
 Loud cries of "Bravo !" and " Hear, hear I" resounded in the hall. 
 
 " Yes," said Heathcote. '* You cry. Bravo ! when your own pre- 
 late puts himself at the head of a warlike movement ; but how often 
 have I heard my protestant brethren blame a Romish prelate for the 
 same act ! Why do you praise the act in one churchman that you 
 blame in another ? Because you rave under the influence of a popish 
 fever." 
 
 Thus spoke the independent alderman, and many were of his 
 opinion, though the pressing emergency of the times prevented their 
 outspeaking ; and the clamour of the court party carried the address 
 with very big words. But it is easy to be courageous and talk boldly 
 on the side of " the poM^ers that be." 
 
 * Pict, Hist. Eng. 
 
TREAiSUIlE TROVE. 201 
 
 With all this show, however, of the court party, they were, in truth, 
 uneasy at the signs of the times — there was an apparent apathy in 
 those who did not oppose them, as if they did not much care Avhich 
 side won. It was said at the time by one whose words were worthy 
 of noting, " We wait to know to which of the lion's paws we are to 
 fall." Another, a member of the administration, writes, " We are for 
 the first comer ;" and asserts that five thousand regular troops would 
 then have decided the affair without a battle, so unprepared was the 
 government, and so disaffected the people. These apprehensions, 
 therefore, produced extraordinary measures. The rich merchants 
 subscribed a sum of 250,000/. for the support of additional troops ; 
 and the more rich, who always dread political changes, were, in self- 
 defence, obliged to enter into a further subscription for the support of 
 the Bank of England, for public credit was shaken, and a run on the 
 bank had already begun. Great vigilance was exercised for the 
 security of the city ; guards were eVfery where doubled ; the Tower 
 was watched with a caution almost ridiculous ; the city called out the 
 train-bands, and watch and ward was kept night and day ; the city 
 gates were shut at ten o'clock at night, and not re- opened again until 
 six in the morning. The proprietors of public places of entertain- 
 ment, such as jelly -houses,* taverns, and the like, were ordered to 
 beware what persons they harboured, and were restricted in their 
 hours ; and all suspicious-looking persons were taken up in the street, 
 without anything more than their looks against them. It was at this 
 period of distrust and excitement, that, one night, some time after 
 Mrs. Banks had closed her house, a cautious tap was heard at the 
 door, which at such a time she dreaded to open, for spies were about, 
 endeavouring to entrap the unwary into opening their doors by some 
 specious story, and then giving them up for a fine to the authorities, 
 which fine was pocketed by the informer. Mrs. Banks would not 
 open the door, yet still the knock was repeated ; and if caution and 
 solicitation were ever expressed in such a mode, the present tapping 
 at the door was a case in point. To Piiaidrig's fine ear it pleaded so 
 powerfully, that he begged to be allowed to go to the door and en- 
 deavour to find out who sought admittance. 
 
 • " Don't be afeerd. — I'll make no mistake," said the piper ; '• none 
 but a friend shall get in." 
 
 He went to the door and addressed a word to the person outside, 
 who answered. — The first word of response was enough for Phaidrig 
 —the bolt was drawn, the door hastily opened, a person admitted, and 
 the door as quickly shut. Finch, who was in a back parlour with 
 Mrs. Banks, heard the voice of Phaidrig in great delight in the dark 
 hall, through which he led the belated guest to the apartment, and 
 * Favourite places of resort at the time. 
 
202 £ S, d, 
 
 both landlady and Finch were startled with astonishment when, in the 
 person of the new comer, they beheld Ned. With what wondering 
 and hearty welcome did they receive the man who was supposed to be 
 a prisoner in France, who absolutely reeled under the sudden rush 
 of questions which assailed him, as to the manner of his escape. 
 When " one at a time" was content to be answered, he replied that 
 the story was too long and intricate to be entered into at that moment, 
 and that he would reserve for Finch's ear on the morrow the entire 
 account of his adventures in France. For the present, they must be 
 content to know that, obtaining his liberty, he trusted to a fishing- 
 boat for the means of crossing the channel; that, under cover of 
 night, he had landed unobserved, and had made his way up to 
 London without difficulty, and did not know, until reaching the city, 
 the risks a stranger ran after nightfall of becoming the prey of the 
 watch, and that he had had a narrow escape of being picked up by 
 these worthies, into whose hjftids he must have fallen, but for the 
 timely opening of the door. Mrs. Banks, like a " sensible woman," 
 saw, after some time, she was one too many, so, leaving plenty of 
 creature-comforts for their benefit, she took her leave, and left the 
 three men to discuss among themselves that which her natural quick- 
 ness told her they did not choose her to be a party to. As soon as she 
 retired, Ned confided to his companions the part he had undertaken 
 as regarded the Pretender, and declared his intention of proceeding 
 immediately to Scotland. Phaidrig recommended him to communi- 
 cate with certain influential persons in London he could mention, 
 before he started, as he would be all the welcomer at head quarters for 
 being the bearer of confidential intelhgence. Finch coincided in this 
 opinion, and Ned agreed to wait for an interview with the Lords Barry- 
 more and Bolingbroke, which Phaidrig promised him the day follow- 
 ing. They continued to discuss the exciting topics of that momentous 
 time with an energy and interest sharpened by the sense of personal 
 danger which attended those who had determined to engage in the 
 struggle, and they did not separate until the pale dawn, breaking 
 through the chinks of the window-shutters, told them how heedless 
 they had been of the passing hours. 
 
 At all times the light of returning day seems to look reproach- 
 fully on those who have passed in watching, the hours which Nature 
 intended for rest ; and the pure dawn shames the dull glare of the 
 far-spent candle which burns near the socket, itself worn out by over- 
 taxed employment : but when such hours have been spent in secret 
 and dangerous conclave, the vigil keeper starts at the dawn with some- 
 thing like a sense of detection, and hurries to the bed which the fever 
 of excitement robs of its accustomed repose. 
 
 Thus felt Finch and Edward, who each took a candle and withdrew 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 203 
 
 to their chambers ; while Phaidrig, unconcerned, found his way to his 
 pallet, unchided by the light he had never enjoyed. The blind man, 
 for once, was blessed in his darkness. 
 
 The next day, an unreserved communication was made by Ned to 
 Finch of the entire of his adventures since they parted, and the 
 romantic meeting of the uncle and nephew startled the skipper not a 
 little ; though, as Ned guessed, he laughed heartily at the notion of a 
 man committing a spoliation of himself, as our hero had done, and, so 
 far from being angry at the successful trick of the concealed gold, was 
 delighted that so much had been got " out of the fire," and told Ned 
 of the additional sum he would have in his share of the plunder the 
 privateer secured. 
 
 " But the old gentleman, your uncle," said Finch — " what has be- 
 come of him?" 
 
 Ned told his friend that it would have been too great a risk for the 
 old man to run, to dare the chance of a debarkation from a French 
 fishing-boat on the English shore ; that, therefore, he had proceeded 
 to Spain, where he hoped, in families of some of his mercantile corre- 
 spondents, to find friends, which he could not expect in France, where 
 he was an utter stranger, and whose language he could not speak ; 
 and that it was agreed, on their parting, should Prince Charles be 
 successful, and a consequent peace with Spain ensue, the old man 
 should return to Ireland ; while, in case of a reverse, Ned should seek 
 an asylum in Spain. 
 
 After being engaged in the exchange of this mutual confidence for 
 some time, they were interrupted by the entrance of Phaidrig, who 
 came to conduct Edward to the interview he promised him ; where- 
 upon the friends parted for the present, and agreed to meet again in 
 the evening, for Finch, as Ned had avowed his determination to set 
 out for the North the next day, pledged him to join in one merry bout 
 before their parting. 
 
 How one in Phaidrig's station could obtain the confidence of men 
 of rank, and be so trusted in dangerous affairs, may seem, at first, 
 startling ; but let it be remembered that the old saying, " Distress 
 makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows," peculiarly applies to all 
 associations of a revolutionary character. In such movements the 
 highest may have their most confidential agents amongst the lowest, 
 as under that unflattering denomination we generally class the poor, 
 though, to their honour be it spoken, experience proves that the 
 betrayal of companions in such dangerous enterprises has rarely 
 been chargeable to them, though their betters (so called) have not 
 
204 £ s, d, 
 
 been above temptation. Ned sought not to know the sources of 
 Phaidrig's influence, but certain it was, that confidence was not only 
 reposed in him, but that his word was taken for the faith of another ; 
 for after driving a few miles to a house in the neighbourhood of the 
 Thames, Edward, on the piper's introduction, was admitted to an 
 audience with the Lords Bolingbroke and Barrymore, and many 
 communications of great trust and importance were made between 
 them touching the interest of the Stuart cause. Edward was urged 
 to speed on his northern journey, and the most earnest desire 
 expressed for the immediate descent of the Prince and his adherents 
 upon London, as, in the present unprepared state of the Government, 
 with a scanty exchequer, a shaken public credit, a want of troops, 
 and a wide-spread disaiFection, the triumph of their progress would be 
 certain. In the course of the conference, which was long, extensive 
 promises of aid were advanced, and numerous names and places, and 
 plans of co-operation were read to be communicated to the prince. 
 
 Ned suggested that when so much had to be communicated it 
 were best to commit all to writing ; but the noblemen stai'ted the 
 objection of papers being dangerous instruments in the hands of 
 enemies, in case the bearer of them should be arrested. Phaidrig 
 here smoothed all difficulties, by assuring them that his memory was 
 " as good as writing any day," and that anything repeated twice in 
 his hearing would be retained with accuracy. 
 
 He gave evidence of this on the spot, by repeating, word for word, 
 the contents of a document read to him, and having proved himself 
 so unfailing a register, the desired communications were confided to 
 the tenacity of the piper's recollection. 
 
 " It is all here now," said Phaidrig, raising his hand to his fore- 
 head — "here, in my brain ; and search-warrants wouldn't find it, 
 though the seekers should blow out the brains that hold it." 
 
 "I don't think killing men is the best way to make them speak," 
 said Lord Bolingbroke, smiling, as he noticed the bull Phaidrig had 
 made. 
 
 " Oh, my lord, remember I'm a musicianer, and most of thc/fi 
 make no noise till they're dead." 
 
 " Well answered, Phaidrig," said Lord Barrjmore ; '* and then their 
 strains live in glory." 
 
 " Faix, then," returned Phaidrig, " that's more than them that made 
 the strains ever did, for you know, my lord, what 'piper's pay' is — 
 * more kicks than halfpence.' " 
 
 After a few more words of good-humoured raillery wilh Phaidrig, he 
 and Ned were dismissed with a parting injunction to make all haste 
 to Scotland, and our hero almost wished he had not promised to spend 
 the evening with Finch, for, though the day was far spent, still some 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 205 
 
 miles might have been accomplished before night. Phaidrig comforted 
 him, however, with that good old Celtic assurance which is made to 
 reconcile so many Irish calamities, *' may be 'tis all for the best," and 
 held out the prospect of an early start on the morrow, and a long day's 
 journey. 
 
 On returning to town, Ned found Finch awaiting him at the 
 tavern, and having deposited Phaidrig safely at home, the two friends 
 sallied forth to spend a jolly evening as they agreed. They first 
 sauntered into one of the principal coffee-houses, the resort of the 
 bloods and wits of the day, expecting to hear something piquant on the 
 existing state of affairs ; but there was little of a political nature 
 handled; it seemed as if men were indifferent about Hanoverian 
 interests, and of course, no word implying favour to the other party 
 would be uttered in a promiscuous company. The coffee-house 
 not proving so attractive as they hoped. Finch proposed a visit to 
 Vauxhall, and they strolled down to the river's side where they 
 engaged a boat. As they stepped aboard, the waterman, touching his 
 hat, hoped they would not object to *'the young woman," pointing as 
 he spoke to a girl who was sitting in the bow, indicating grief by her 
 attitude, and whose eyes betrayed recent tears. Having pushed from 
 the wharf, and being fairly engaged in pulling, the waterman com- 
 menced explaining the cause of the woman's presence. 
 
 " She's my sister, you see, your honours, and in trouble because her 
 husband is a sojer, and is marched away to-day to Scotland to join the 
 army, and she's in such grief, that I did'nt like leaving her at home 
 alone for fear she'd make away with hersel'." 
 
 " Oh, don't 'e, Tom, don't 'e," said the girl, in an under tone. 
 
 " Why, you said you would you know," answered Tom over his 
 shoulder. " Well, your honours, as I was telling of ye, I thought it 
 better to bring her out with me here to keep her company, for you 
 see she's not long married — there's where it is, and is a fretting 
 more nor reasonable for a raff of a sojer, 'cause she's not tired of him 
 
 yet." 
 
 "Now don't 'e, Tom!" said the girl again. 
 
 " Why, you know it's true, and it was agin my will that you ever 
 had un, and you can't say no to that. But its nat'ral, as your honours 
 know ; at the same time, she'd be sorry." 
 
 " Of course," said Ned. — " Have many soldiers marched ?" 
 
 "Lor, no sir, there's where it is, just a handful, and they've no 
 chance, and they say them Highlanders be mortal vicious. — I hear they 
 eats their enemies sometimes." 
 
 " Ah, don't 'e, Tom!" cried the girl piteously. 
 
 "Why how can I help if they do ?" said the strangely good-natured 
 brother; "besides, if they do kill un, you know my partner Dick 
 
206 £ s, d, 
 
 will have 'e, and well for 'e if it was so before ; a waterman's better 
 than sojer." 
 
 " S'help me God, Tom ! " exclaimed the girl, somewhat roused, 
 " I'll throw myself out o' boat and drown, if 'e don't ha' done." 
 
 "Better not!" said Tom, "water's deep here, and I can't stop 
 t' save you, for the ge'men's in a hurry." 
 
 " "Who commands the troops?" said Ned. 
 
 " Oh, some o' them outlandish chaps ; we ha' nothing but out- 
 landish chaps now in all good places. Its well for watermen their's 
 is hard work, or I s'pose we'd be druv off the river." 
 
 "' But of course you wish the King's cause well," said Finch. 
 
 " To be sure I do, sir, as in duty bound : not that it makes any 
 difference to the likes o' me, for whoever is uppermost, they'll want 
 boats on the river, and there won't be a tide more or less in the 
 Thames, and so I say, on all such matters, it's no affair o' mine, but 
 God's above all, and them's my principles, sir." 
 
 " Excellent principles," cried Finch ; " and becoming a Christian." 
 
 "Oh, I am a Christian," said the waterman, "that I am, and 
 wouldn't be nothing else. I have no chalks up agin me at the tap ; 
 no, no! and loves my fellow creaturs — all 'cept the Hanoverians — 
 and as they are so plenty in all other places in England, I do wish, 
 I will say, that some o' them as couldn't swim, were in the middle 
 o' the Thames, without a boat under them, and a strong ebb tide a 
 running." 
 
 " You think that would be good for the country," said Finch. 
 
 " Sure of it," said the waterman ; "only the river would be dirtier 
 with them." 
 
 As they rowed up towards Vauxhall they found in the course of 
 their chat with the waterman, that not only he was no lover of " the 
 Hanoverians," but gathered from his conversation that there was no 
 great affection for them throughout his class ; and this, together with 
 learning the popular impression, that there were not sufficient troops 
 for defence, was good intelligence for Ned to have picked up, and in 
 thankfulness for the same, when they arrived at their destination, he 
 gave an extra sixpence to Tom. 
 
 The gardens were not as gay as usual — not for the want of the 
 ordinary routine of entertainments, these went on as ever ; but there 
 seemed wanting that air of careless cheerfulness which characterizes 
 such public places. The fact is, the body politic, like the human 
 body, is not fit for enjoyment when something not easy of digestion 
 lies in the system, and impending events of an important and 
 dangerous nature, however much people may affect to be unconcerned 
 about them, partake of this character, and the public mind is not 
 attuned to mirth. The bold may bluster, and the silly vent the 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 207 
 
 empty laugh, but even with them, amidst the swagger of the one, and 
 the folly of the other, the spirit of the momentous hour will sometimes 
 assert her sway, and bring all within her power. 
 
 Thus it was at Vauxhall ; the rope-dancer did not bound an inch 
 lower than usual, the singers were as great favourites as ever, and 
 sung as favourite songs ; the fire-works burnt as brightly, and people 
 paid as much for invisible slices of ham as usual ; but still there was 
 an indescribable dulness about it, which so affected Finch and Ned, 
 that they left it long before the accustomed time. Engaging a 
 hackney coach, they were driven to the suburbs of the town, and 
 there they alighted to pursue the remainder of their way on foot. 
 As they were passing through a narrow and ill-lighted street, they 
 encountered a person just under the rays of one of the few lamps, 
 and the imperfect light sufficiently revealed to Finch the person of 
 Spiggles, shambling along as fast a^ he could, but Finch intercepted 
 him, and, tempted by the opportunity of giving Spiggles a fright, he 
 laid his hand on his shoulder, and said he was delighted at the pleasure 
 of the meeting. Spiggles trembled from head to foot, and begged to 
 be released, pleading his desire for haste, and the lateness of the 
 hour. 
 
 "Tut, tut, man," exclaimed Finch. " Old friends must not part 
 so ; I want a few words with you, and you must stop ;" and he 
 jammed him against the wall at the words, while the wretched miser 
 shuddered, fear depriving him of the power of calling for the watch, 
 which he would have done if he could. Finch upbraided him with 
 his want of gratitude, and reminded him of his refusal to lend him a 
 small sum. 
 
 Spiggles, dreading violence, protested he had no money about 
 him. 
 
 " Miserable niggard !" cried Finch, " do you think I want to rob 
 you? No, no, others will save me that trouble, for I do rejoice to think 
 how you will be plundered by the Ilighlanders when the city is 
 sacked, which it will be in a day or two. The clans are close upon 
 you. I rejoice how you will be fleeced — how your ill-gotten gold 
 will be rummaged." Spiggles groaned at the thought, and trembled, 
 while Finch ordered Ned to take the old sinner under the other arm, 
 and walk him along with them. Spiggles ' would have refused, 
 but was unable, and borne by Finch ^on one side, and Ned on 
 the other, he shambled on between them, while continued volleys of 
 threats, plunder, Highlanders, and throat-cutting, were poured into 
 his ears on both sides. This jumble of horrors, which the two 
 friends made as terrible as they could for the benefit of Spiggles, 
 being spoken rather loudly to increase the efi^ect, was overheard by a 
 party of the watch which chanced to be unseen in a dark entrance ; 
 
208 £ 
 
 the party passed, and the guardians of the night, following stealthil}- 
 and hearing what tliey believed to be " flat treason," they fell suddenly 
 on the trio, and having secured them, took them olF to the round-house. 
 They were charged before the constable of the night with uttering 
 of treasonable language, and as persons of evil intent, and were 
 ordered to be locked up for the niglit. Spiggles protested that he 
 was a peaceful and worshipful man, a man of substance and good 
 repute in the city, and that a round-house was no place for him to 
 spend the night with rogues and vagabonds. 
 
 "Rogues and vagabonds, indeed!" exclaimed a virago, in a fury, 
 who had been just committed, but not yet locked up. She rushed at 
 Spiggles and boxed his ears, calling him all sorts of foul names, and 
 belabouring him, until she was laid hold of by the constables and 
 dragged away. Finch uttered not a word in defence, and Ned, by his 
 advice, also maintained silence. To all the appeals of Spiggles, who 
 said the gentlemen in whose company he was walking could explain 
 it all, Finch only shook his head, throwing doubt more and more on 
 the miser, whose ill-favoured aspect, further disfigured by fear, was 
 anything but prepossessing. 
 
 Before being locked up, the parties were secretly informed by 
 a watchman, that a message could be carried to their friends, if they 
 were willing to pay for it. On inquiring the price, half-a-guinea 
 was named, which Finch readily gave, and sent to Mrs. Banks, 
 requesting her presence early in the morning. Spiggles, of course, 
 refused to pay so much, and was content to wait till the magistrate 
 should order a messenger to go for any person to whom it might be 
 necessary to refer. This saving of half-a-guinea, by depriving him of 
 evidence at the moment of need, laid him open to loss, through a 
 device of the skipper's. 
 
 As for passing a night in durance. Finch thought nothing about 
 it, as it was not the first time ; nor would Ned, but for the delay it 
 occasioned. Finch whispered him not to make himself uneasy, as he 
 would manage their speedy liberation, and hoped to make vSpiggles pay 
 dearly for the frolic ; and, afterwards, in some private words with the 
 miser, he threatened that if, in his defence, he cast the smallest blame on 
 him for the affair overnight, he would make certain disclosures respect- 
 ing him that would cost him dearly. Spiggles, knowing he was in 
 Finch's power, and supposing him to be in desperate circumstances, pro- 
 mised to cast no imputation on him, and the skipper then insisted, in 
 assurance of his good intentions, he must permit him to make their 
 common defence in the morning, and that he would get them out of 
 it bravely. Spiggles was forced to consent to these conditions, and 
 then groped his way to a corner. The prisoners were all huddled 
 together in utter darkness ; those wlio could find a seat sitting, others 
 
 1 
 
z^^^-^. 
 
 <^/ 
 
 sc/iL^^y?'?.<^ ay 
 
% 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 209 
 
 stretched on the floor, whose curses were evoked, as some lively 
 gentlemen danced over them. Some were moaning and crying, 
 while others were laughing at the jokes cracked on the misfortunes of 
 their fellow-prisoners. Spiggles had sunk into a melancholy trance, 
 when he was roused by a shrill female voice exclaiming near him, 
 " I wish I could clap my claw on the old rascal that said rogues and 
 vagabonds. — Come out if you're a man !" shouted the virago, "and 
 I'll fight you in the dark for a dollar ! " 
 
 ' Spiggles sneaked as far away as he could, and when the morning 
 peeped into the cell, he shrunk behind Finch for concealment and 
 protection. 
 
 "Mrs. Banks, as soon as admittance could be obtained, was in 
 attendance to render Finch what assistance he needed. He merely 
 desired her to go to the ship-agent who transacted the affairs of the 
 privateer in London, and request his attendance before Sir Thomas 
 de Veil. This was done, and when Finch, Ned, and Spiggles, 
 were charged, and called on for their defence, the skipper became 
 spokesman. 
 
 He admitted that they had been speaking in the street of an attack 
 on London, and of Highlanders, and cutting throats, but that it was 
 only in dread of it they spoke, not in hope. 
 
 Here the watch deposed that they spoke as if with knowledge of 
 the movements of the rebels. 
 
 " Ha ! ha !" said Sir Thomas, " knowledge ? — what say you to 
 that ?" 
 
 " Please your worship, such knowledge as we all have from report, 
 no more." 
 
 "But they spoke fierce and loud, your worship," interposed the 
 watch, " like suspicious persons." 
 
 " Now, your worship," said Finch, " does it not stand to reason that 
 persons to be suspected would be the last to speak loud, but would, on 
 the contrary, be secret and silent ? Speak loud, indeed ! Well might 
 this worthy and wealthy gentleman speak loud in the fear of his riches 
 being swept away by these wild Highlanders ; and the best proof your 
 worship can have of his loyalty is, that he was going to Garraway's 
 yesterday to subscribe to the merchants' fund for raising troops, but 
 was prevented by urgent business." 
 
 " It is true, so help me God ! " said Spiggles. 
 
 " But as he intends doing it to-day," continued Finch, " and it 
 would be troublesome to send to the city to obtain proof of his 
 respectability, the shortest way to evince his loyalty is to hand your 
 worship his cheque for two hundred pounds, to be forwarded to 
 Garraway's." 
 
 The miser gasped, as if he would have spoken, but Finch, fixing 
 
 p 
 
210 £ s, d. 
 
 his eye on him with a meaning he could not mistake, said, " Do you 
 wish I should say any more ?" 
 
 Spiggles quailed under the threatening glance; and supplied by 
 Sir Thomas at once with pen, ink, and paper, he wrote the cheque 
 with an agony little short of the bitterness of death. 
 
 " As for myself and my young friend here, so far from being 
 favourers of the Pretender, we have been privateering against 
 the ships of France and Spain, and that does not look like dis- 
 loyalty." 
 
 The ship-agent came forward in proof of his words ; Finch and Ned 
 were at once discharged, and left the office in company with Spiggles, 
 who looked more dead than alive at the loss of his money. 
 
 " A word in your ear," said Finch, taking the miser under his arm, 
 and walking apart with him. — "Now I have had a sweet bit of 
 revenge on you for your cold-hearted ingratitude to me; I would 
 not wring money out of you for my own purposes — I would scorn it, — 
 but as you were base enough to refuse me a loan, which should all 
 have been returned, I rejoice in having plucked you of a couple of 
 hundreds, which you will never see again ; and in case you ever meet 
 in the course of your worthless life another servant as useful and 
 faithful as I have been, use him better than you did me, and remember 
 Finch and the two hundred. And now farewell — I've done with you — 
 I wish you a good appetite for your breakfast ; — don't eat eggs, nor 
 fried ham ; — don't be extravagant, try and make up in saving the loss 
 of this morning — perhaps your high character for loyalty may throw 
 something in your way— eh, skinflint ! — but I think your loyalty is the 
 dearest bargain you have been let in for, for some time. Good bye, — 
 remember Finch and the round-house ! " 
 
 So saying, he turned the old wretch adrift, and went off in an 
 opposite direction with Ned and the agent, while the steps of Spiggles 
 were tracked by a secret agent of the police,- despatched after him by 
 Sir Thomas de Veil, that he might be traced in case the cheque should 
 turn out a hoax. But the document was proved true in another hour, 
 and the money of Spiggles converted to public uses — the first of his 
 that ever found its way into so good a channel. 
 
 Through Finch's influence, the agent advanced Ned a hundred 
 guineas on account of his prize-money, and after a hasty breakfast and 
 a hearty farewell to the skipper, he started on his journey, accom- 
 panied by Phaidrig, who did not leave the tavern without some 
 applications of the corner of Mrs. Banks's apron to her eye. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 211 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 When the young Pretender embarked in the daring enterprise of 
 regaining the throne of his fathers by force of . arms, one of the ele- 
 ments of success on which he counted was an immediate rising in 
 Ireland so soon as it should be known his banner was unfurled in 
 Scotland. But it so happened, that the one particular year he selected 
 was the only one for many before or after in which Ireland would not 
 have joined in the rebellion. 
 
 The cause of this absence of disaffection in Ireland, while there was 
 any thing but a well-grounded loyalty in England and downright 
 revolt in Scotland, was attributable to one man — that man was'Philip 
 Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield, chiefly known in England for his 
 trifling letters to his son, but remembered in Ireland by all readers of 
 her history as the most enlightened, benevolent, and successful of her 
 viceroys. On assuming the reins of government in that oppressed 
 and distracted country, he declared that he would be influenced by no 
 dictation of minor personages there, but would "judge and govern 
 himself."* Acting firmly on this resolution, he discarded the counsels 
 of severity and injustice under which the great mass of the Roman 
 Catholic people of Ireland had been suffering, he administered the laws 
 in the spirit of justice, and he won the confidence of the nation, — a 
 confidence not only won but maintained during a period of peculiar 
 peril to the British crown. He is thus spoken of by an historian not 
 particularly favourable to popular Irish interests. f " The short 
 administration of Philip Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield, was a kind of 
 phenomenon in Irish history. This highly accomplished, liberal, and 
 judicious nobleman, to whose character such injustice accrues from 
 the posthumous publication of his letters, intended for a peculiar 
 purpose, by no means for general advice, was appointed at a dangerous 
 juncture, when in the midst of an unsuccessful war against France and 
 Spain, an alarming rebellion had been raised in Scotland in favour of 
 Charles Edward Stuart, son of the Pretender. Vested with ample 
 powers, this Viceroy acted from his own judgment, uninfluenced by 
 
 * Liber Munerum Publicorum Hibernise. Report of Rowley Lascelles. 
 t Hist. Irel. Rev. James Gordon, Rector of Killegny, in the diocese of Terns, 
 and of Cannaway, in the diocese of Cork. 
 
 p2 
 
212 £ 6*. d. 
 
 the counsels of those who, to p7'event an imaginmy^ might have excited 
 a real rebellion by violent measures against Catholics, the bulk of the 
 nation. He discountenanced all party distinctions." In another history 
 he is spoken of as governing Ireland "with rare ability, and a most 
 rare liberality."* 
 
 After all, the successful government of Ireland at this momentous 
 period is less attributable to ability, than to a pure spirit of justice, — a 
 gift much rarer in statesmen than talent. Actuated by this spirit, he 
 received no tale on the ipse dixit of the tale-bearer — ^he would have 
 proof. Alarmists were peculiarly odious to him ; he sometimes got rid 
 of them playfully, as in one case when a person of some importance 
 assured him the " Papists were dangerous," he replied, he never had 
 seen but one, and that was Miss , a particularly lovely woman. 
 
 This lady, as well as many other Catholics, won by Lord Chester- 
 field's liberal policy, flocked to the Castle and graced the viceregal 
 court with an accession of charms to which it had long been a 
 stranger. The particular beauty in question was so delighted by Lord 
 Chesterfield's noble conduct, that on some public occasion, to mark 
 how thoroughly she could overcome political prejudice, she wore a 
 breast-knot of orange-ribbon ; the earl, pleased at the incident, 
 requested St. Leger (afterwards Lord Doneraile) — celebrated for his 
 wit, to say something handsome to her on the occasion, whereupon 
 St. Leger composed the following, not generally known, impromptu : — 
 
 *' Say, little Tory, why this jest 
 Of wearing orange on thy breast, 
 Since the same breast, uncovered, shows 
 The whiteness of the rebel rose ? " 
 
 An alarmist one day asked him, in a very mysterious manner, if he 
 knew that his state-coachman went to mass : " I don't care," replied 
 the earl, " so long as he don't drive me there." 
 
 But when the landing of the Pretender and the raising of his 
 standard in Scotland was announced, the alarmists became bolder, and 
 besieged the liberal Lord-Lieutenant with tales of terror; he had 
 no peace of his life ; he was continually baited with buggaboos fabri- 
 cated in the heated imaginations of partizans, whom he was unwilling 
 to dismiss unheard, and whose cure he hoped to effect by a courageous 
 incredulity. 
 
 The rumour of a popish plot soon brought down upon him one 
 alarmist after another, who all were much discomfited at the coolness 
 with which he received their reports. The first, one morning, was 
 Alderman Watson, who arrived while his Excellency was at breakfast, 
 
 * Pict. Hist. Eng. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 213 
 
 and, sending in his name with an importunate assurance that he had 
 intelligence to communicate which was of the deepest interest to the 
 state, was immediately admitted. 
 
 There was a striking contrast between the ease of the accomplished 
 Lord Chesterfield and the fussy embarrassment of the Alderman. 
 The cool and accomplished courtier almost felt hot to look on the 
 flushed face of the civic dignitary, who was mopping it with a snuffy 
 pocket-handkerchief, while he assured the Lord-Lieutenant he had 
 come in a great hurry. 
 
 " That is manifest, Mister Alderman," returned my lord ; " and 
 may I ask the cause of all this hurry ?" 
 
 " I have it, your Excellency, on undoubted authority — " 
 " I beg your pardon. Mister Alderman," returned Chesterfield, 
 smiling ; " but I cannot help telling you that all the wild reports I 
 hear are universally accompanied with the same assurance." 
 
 " On undoubted authority, your Excellency. — I have it from the 
 fountain-head — " } 
 
 " Whose head, do you say ?" 
 
 " The fountain-head, my lord," said the Alderman, betraying some 
 displeasure. 
 
 " Oh — I beg your pardon," said the Viceroy, with provoking 
 suavity; '* pray proceed." 
 
 " I came to tell your Excellency that there is a plot — a popish 
 plot—" 
 
 Here he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Mr. Gardner, 
 the vice-treasurer, who, in great perturbation, and scarcely observing 
 the common courtesies of salutation in his hurry, exclaimed, " My 
 lord, the Papists of Connaught are to rise this day !" 
 
 " That's the very plot I came to tell you, my lord," said the Alder- 
 man ; " remember, I came first to give the alarm." 
 
 To this intended "alarm" of the Alderman, Lord Chesterfield's 
 calmness was intensely provoking. — Taking his watch carelessly from 
 his pocket, he replied, " It is nine o'clock, and certainly time for them 
 to rise."* 
 
 " I see, my lord, you make little of my information," said Gardner. 
 " My good Sir," said Chesterfield, " I cannot make it less than it 
 comes from your own mouth. You offer a most startling piece of rumour, 
 without any name, place, or time, direct fact or corroborative evi- 
 dence of any sort, — you make a naked assertion — assuring me it is on 
 ' undoubted authority,' and from the * fountain-head.' — Would to 
 Heaven these feverish loyalists had heads like the fountains — cooler 
 and clearer." 
 
 ^ Liber Munerum Publicorum HibemiaK. Report of Rowley Lascelles. 
 
214 £ s, d. 
 
 " Your Excellency must allow me to say, that loyal men might ex- 
 pect to meet more encouragement in the head of the government," 
 said the Alderman. 
 
 " That is a very smart saying of yours, indeed, Mister Alderman ; 
 but you will allow me to say that you corporation gentlemen seem to 
 have a very strange notion about loyalty. You are devoted to 
 government as long as government does all you wish, and believes all 
 you say, and will back you through thick and thin ; but the moment 
 government entertains a view superior to that — ventures to look be- 
 yond the civic boundaries in which your illiberality confines you, your 
 loyalty is of a very doubtful character ; for, in short, the self-made 
 charter of your loyalty is simply this — ' as long as the government lets 
 us do what we like, we will support the government.' " 
 
 The Alderman protested he was the most loyal man in the world. 
 
 " I am so wearied with these eternal tales of plots and risings," 
 continued Lord Chesterfield, " that I am in the condition of the shep- 
 herd in the fable, to whom the idle boy called ' wolf so often, that I 
 know not when to believe the cry ; therefore, I am obliged to depend 
 on my own sources of information — and allow me to assure you 
 I have them. Mister Alderman, and can depend upon them; and 
 have also the means of repressing any rebellious movement that may 
 be attempted, but of which I have not, at this moment, the slightest 
 apprehension." 
 
 " May Divine Providence grant," said the Alderman, piously, " that 
 your Excellency's" confidence in the present deceptive calm be not 
 ill placed ; for what should we do in case of a rising at this moment, 
 when your Excellency has sent away so much of the army to rein- 
 force his Majesty in Scotland ?"* 
 
 " I have as much military force as shall be wanted while I am 
 here," said Lord Chesterfield, smiling. 
 
 *' It is fortunate, my lord, that the city has done its duty in fur- 
 nishing forth the militia. And further, my lord, we have offered a 
 reward of six thousand pounds for the head either of the Pretender or 
 any of his sons — dead or alwe"\ 
 
 ♦ Pat. Gordon's Hist. Ireland, 
 
 There is singular resemblance between Lord Chesterfield in 1745, and Lord 
 Normanby nearly a hundred years late. Both men of fashion, suddenly grappling 
 ■with a difficult government, and elevating their reputations by the largeness of 
 their policy. Both essentially exclusive— the men of a coterie in private life, were 
 nobly above such influence in dealing with public affairs. — They legislated not for 
 the few, but the many. Both inspired with a spirit of justice to, and confidence in 
 the people, found ready obedience to the former, while the latter was never abused. 
 They were the only viceroys who could spare troops out of Ireland. It is to be 
 regretted, there was a lapse of almost a century between two such governments : 
 " Like angels' visits, few and far between." 
 
 t Gent. Mag. 
 
- .V.cvC/T-'^ 
 
 ^.„., 
 
 m^- 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 215 
 
 " I should be sorry to interfere, Sir," returned the sarcastic lord, 
 '^ with the bargains of the corporation, however injudicious I think 
 them: for, in mj opinion, the heads of all three are not worth the 
 money." 
 
 An official now entered to inform his Excellency that Governor 
 Eyre sought an audience. Hereupon the disappointed and indignant 
 Alderman Watson retired, and the Governor of Galway was intro- 
 duced. 
 
 Eyre was a fierce old soldier, whose only notions of law or govern- 
 ment were derived from a drum-head court-martial, or the rule of a 
 regiment, and his horror of "popery" was as absurd as that of a 
 child at a " buggaboo." Frequent written communications he had 
 made to the Lord -Lieutenant* were not treated with as much con- 
 sideration as he thought they merited, and he, therefore, went up to 
 Dublin to make his representations in person. The courteousness of 
 his reception by the polished lord softened the asperity of temper 
 with which he entered the presence ; and though he came prepared 
 to throw shot and shell, he was forced to exchange salutes. 
 
 He entered on his business, therefore, with calmness and precision ; 
 but as he was disturbed in the course of his representations by some 
 searching question of the Viceroy, his irritability was roused, and he 
 began to warm thoroughly to the subject of his complaint. Like all 
 other complaints of the time, the blame for every misfortune was laid 
 at the door of the poor and powerless Roman Catholics. According 
 to Governor Eyre, the safety of Galway was not worth a day's pur- 
 chase ; and after detailing anticipated horrors enough for a dozen of 
 the darkest romances, he besought the Lord-Lieutenant to grant him 
 additional powers to keep down the '* Papists." 
 
 " My dear Governor," said Chesterfield, in his blandest manner, 
 " I do not think my views concerning the * Papists,' as you call them, 
 and yours, can ever agree." 
 
 " Do you not grant they are very daring, my lord, to assemble and 
 celebrate mass, in defiance of the law ?" 
 
 " Governor, people will say their prayers in spite of us ; and I 
 cannot wonder they would rather worship God than man. It is we 
 who are wrong in making laws which it is impossible to enforce. It was 
 but the other day an old house in a secluded street fell down from the 
 overcrowded state of one of its rooms, where the mass was celebrated, 
 and many broken limbs were the consequence."f 
 
 " I hope, my lord, the ofienders will be prosecuted. It may pre- 
 vent a recurrence of the crime." 
 
 " I don't know any prosecution that would save old houses from 
 
 * Hardiman's Galway. f Lascelles' Report. 
 
216 £ S. (L 
 
 falling, Governor — but I have recommended to the King and his 
 ministers a way to prevent a recurrence of such an accident." 
 
 " May I beg to ask it, your Excellency ?" 
 
 " It is to permit the Catholics to build chapels, and worship in 
 public."* 
 
 The Governor was thunderstruck. " And would you tolerate the 
 celebration of the mass ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Certainly," said Lord Chesterfield. " It is wisest to tolerate what 
 we cannot prevent ; the laws that can be defied or defeated are soon 
 despised — good laws never are." 
 
 " Would you trust them, my lord, when they are ever ready to enlist 
 in the armies of our enemies ?" 
 
 " I have a cure for that, too," said Lord Chesterfield ; " I would 
 enlist them in our own." 
 
 " Our own!" echoed the Governor, in amazement. 
 
 " Yes; the Irish are essentially a military people ; and it is much 
 better to have them fighting for us than against us — for fight they 
 will. You know I have used strong measures to repress foreign en- 
 listments ; I have issued a proclamation, offering a reward of a thou- 
 sand pounds for the discovery of any one who enlists a British subject 
 for foreign servicef — yet what has it done ? — Let Fontenoi answer ; 
 
 * The Irish Brigade is stronger than ever.'" 
 
 " But how could we trust these pestilent Papists, my lord — who 
 have poisoned the springs all round London to sicken the cattle, and 
 kill the loyal Protestants with foul meat?"{ 
 
 " So you believe that vulgar rumour, do you ? — Let me assure you 
 that the London physicians all declare the disease of the cattle to be 
 an infection imported from Holland. What do you think of that, 
 Governor? — Holland! — from our allies! But I fear the Dutch mur- 
 rain will stick to us closer than the Dutch cavalry at Fontenoi. Their 
 cows are more fatal than their horse T^ 
 
 " Would, my lord, that you had seen the swagger of the Galway 
 merchants the other day, when they fancied that some large ships, 
 descried off" the coast, were Spanish men-of-war come to help them !" 
 
 " I heard of no such armament. Governor." 
 
 " No, please your Excellency — they were not Spanish ships, only a 
 portion of the East-India fleet driven up hither by stress of weather, 
 but the Papists thought they were Spanish, and rejoiced accordingly."§ 
 
 " Are you sure. Governor, they did not rejoice at the thought of 
 their being East-India ships coming once more to trade to their har- 
 bour? For I have had many petitions from the same merchants, 
 setting forth that the exorbitant port-dues, levied by the corporation 
 
 * Lascelles' Eeport. f Gent. Mag. % I'i^t. Hist. England. § Hardiman's Galway. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 217 
 
 of Galway, have ruined their trade, and caused a once flourishing 
 port to be deserted."* 
 
 The Governor here entered into an explanation with his lordship, 
 setting forth, that it was necessary for the protection of Protestant 
 interests that the members of the corporation should be protected by- 
 certain privileges and immunities, and that many of these imposts 
 were to be avoided if ships were cleared or entered belonging to 
 members of the corporation. 
 
 " Notwithstanding which," returned Lord Chesterfield, " if I am 
 informed aright, the trade has not increased under such protection to 
 one class of the townsmen — not even amongst those it was meant to 
 benefit." 
 
 The Governor was obliged to admit this was true. 
 
 " And surely you cannot think it beneficial, Governor, that the 
 commerce of a port should be limited? — Commerce breeds wealth, and 
 I cannot see any good to be derived from making a country poor." 
 
 " I have written to the East-India Company myself," said Eyre, 
 " requesting them to recommend their ships to trade with the loyal 
 Protestant merchants of our town."f 
 
 " I cannot help thinking your efforts would be better bestowed. 
 Governor, in urging the corporation to relax their heavy imposts 
 against their fellow-subjects, and let trade take care of itself. In a 
 few years more your port will be ruined, otherwise. I am informed, 
 that so late as seven years ago, fifteen ships belonged to the port, 
 and traded on the high seas, but the grinding exactions so discourage 
 the merchants, that they are dwindling away year by year, and the 
 prosperity of the town is manifestly impaired." 
 
 " The town is going to decay in many ways, my lord, I grieve to 
 say. In one point, most material to me, who have its safe holding in 
 trust : the walls and fortifications are in a dilapidated state, and in 
 many places holes are absolutely broken through by the audacious 
 smugglers, who, under cover of night, introduce their goods to avoid 
 paying the dues, J and I hope Government will look to the repairs, or I 
 cannot answer for the town's safety in case of a rising of the O's and 
 Macs in the neighbouring highlands of lar Connaught." 
 
 " Well, Governor, you have certainly made an ample admission in 
 favour of all I have been saying. The exorbitant tolls which ruin 
 fair trade, produce smuggling. The honest merchant is wronged — 
 rogues and vagabonds prosper instead. In despite of you they make 
 holes through your city walls, rendering the king's defences unsafe, 
 and then you call upon Government to repair the damage which 
 the blind injustice of your corporation has produced. The town's 
 
 * Hardiman. f Ibid. X Ibid. 
 
218 Jb s, a. 
 
 defences I shall issue immediate orders to the proper officers to look 
 after — for the safety of no part of the kingdom which my sovereign 
 has entrusted to my care shall be neglected — but at the same time 
 I will address a recommendation to the corporation of Galway to relax 
 their illiberal code of laws ; for be assured, Governor, it is far from 
 pleasing to his Majesty that one portion of his subjects should be 
 sacrificed to the interests of another, or that any should be oppressed. 
 I should think it manifest to any capacity, that if you let people lead 
 quiet lives, and accumulate wealth, the preservation of their own 
 comforts will be the best guarantee for their preserving public tran- 
 quillity; while if you impoverish and oppress them, you cannot wonder 
 they should wish to throw off your yoke. In my experience of the 
 people of Ireland, since I have been their Governor, I have found 
 them a generous and warm-hearted people, sensitive alike to kindness 
 and confidence, or severity and distrust, — easily led by the one, or 
 provoked by the other. I have tried the former, much the easier and 
 more gracious mode of rule, and have found it succeed to admiration; 
 and I am proud to believe, notwithstanding all the tales of the alarmists, 
 that in spite of the contagious example of rebellion in Scotland, the 
 disease will not spread into Ireland while a liberal course of policy is 
 pursued towards her people." 
 
 The Governor, finding Lord Chesterfield impervious to alarms, 
 withdrew, and returned to Galway, with no very pleasing intelligence 
 for the corporation, who did not include Lord Chesterfield's health in 
 the " loyal " toasts of their festive board, and who paid no attention to 
 his remonstrance against their excessive imposts, which, as he pre- 
 dicted, ultimately ruined their town. So rapid was the progress of 
 decay, that instead of fifteen ships belonging to the port and engaged 
 in trading, only three had owners ere long, and of these only one 
 traded in 1761, and one other in 1762.* So much for municipal mo- 
 nopoly. But these local plague-spots in various parts of Ireland were 
 prevented from working a fatal result, in consequence of the general 
 excellence of Lord Chesterfield's administration: for the confidence 
 and good-will inspired by his liberal course of policy awakened in the 
 people the hope of better days for the future ; and though some en- 
 thusiastic Jacobites endeavoured to organize a rising, they found it 
 impossible, and were fain to join the adherents of the young Pretender 
 in Scotland. 
 
 ^ Com. Jour. vol. viii. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 219 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Anxious was the watch kept on board the Doutelle when she parted 
 from her consort the Elizabeth. Deprived of that protection, her 
 own guns were too few and light of metal to dare an encounter, and 
 all she had to rely on for the safety of the precious freight she bore 
 was her speed. This she was obliged to exercise more than once ; 
 and when closing with the Scottish coast she was chased for many 
 hours by a British cruiser, whose swiftness put the sailing qualities 
 of the French brig to a severe trial. Indeed, at one time it seemed 
 impossible to avoid an action, but a sudden change in the wind gave 
 the Doutelle an advantage in a point of sailing, and soon distancing 
 her pursuer, she doubled a headland of one of the islands abounding 
 on the western coast of North Britain, and dropped her anchor 
 under its shelter. An eagle at the moment swept down from the 
 rocky heights of the island, and wheeled in majestic flight over the 
 Doutelle. 
 
 " Behold, my Prince ! " exclaimed old Tullibardine, " the king of 
 birds has come to welcome you to Scotland." 
 
 It was reckoned a good omen, and Charles landed, but his rank was 
 not revealed to the islanders. He whom he hoped to find, Clanronald, 
 was absent, therefore the Doutelle weighed anchor and stood over 
 to the main land, whither the chieftain had gone. The following day, 
 in obedience to a summons from the Prince, Clanronald repaired on 
 board the brig, attended by several of his clan, and Kinlock Moidart 
 bore him company. 
 
 The chieftains were sadly disappointed to find but one small and 
 lightly armed vessel, where they hoped to have seen men-of-war and 
 a supply of regular troops, and told the Prince frankly that without 
 such aid a rising would be madness — a hopeless adventure in which 
 they would not join. Charles urged them by every artful appeal he 
 could summon to his aid — their hitherto unfailing affection to his 
 house — their promises, from which the honour of a Highland chieftain 
 never yet flinched — their proverbial bravery, which no odds could 
 daunt ; all these stimulants were applied to the excitable Celts, but as 
 yet in vain, and both parties grew louder in argument and answer as 
 
220 £ 5. d, 
 
 they paced rapidly up and down the deck. Ellen was reclining under an 
 awning spread above the after-part of the vessel, sheltering from the 
 noon-day heat, while her father and the rest of the adventurers kept 
 aloof in a group, the Prince still engaged with the chieftains. How 
 her heart beat as she watched the expressions of theii' faces and that 
 of Charles. She could see the conference v^as not satisfactory, and 
 she felt for the humiliating position of a prince suL^^.o a subject and 
 suing in vain. At this moment she observed a young Highlander, 
 who had taken no part in the debate, but who, as he caught the 
 meaning of it, seemed suddenly enlightened as to the real rank of the 
 person who was engaged with the chieftains, and became deeply inte- 
 rested. It was Ronald, the younger brother of Kinlock Moidart, who 
 had no idea of the objects of visiting the Doutelle. He had been 
 leaning listlessly against the bulwark of the ship, seemingly careless of 
 every thing but his picturesque costume, which in every point was 
 perfect. Completely armed, he seemed the very model of a Highland 
 warrior ; and as he caught the import of the Prince's words, his former 
 listlessness was changed to eager watchfulness — his glistening eyes 
 followed the parleying party backwards and forwards. Ellen could 
 see his colour come and go ; his lips become compressed with the 
 energy of high resolve ; his hand fitfully grasp the hilt of his broad- 
 sword ; and his whole figure heave with the tumult of emotion. It was 
 at this moment the Prince passed over to Ellen, as if he had spent all 
 his arguments in vain, while the two chieftains turned on the heel and 
 paced the deck back again. 
 
 " Pardon me, your highness," said Ellen, in an under tone, " but 
 pray look at that young Highlander, whose eyes are so enthusiastically 
 bent upon you." 
 
 The Prince looked and saw that he had won the young man's very 
 soul, and suddenly approaching him, he exclaimed, " You at least will 
 assist me." 
 
 " I will, I will !" cried Ronald ; " though no other man in the 
 highlands shall draw a sword, I will die for you !" In the wild 
 emotion of the moment he suited the action to the word ; snatching 
 his bright claymore from the sheath, the steel flashed in the sun- 
 beam, as he waved it above his head, and uttered the wild shout of the 
 Celt. 
 
 The enthusiasm was infectious ; the hearts of sterner men were 
 moved by the impetuous youth ; there was not a sword remained in 
 its scabbard, and the clash of steel, and the war cry of the Mac Donalds, 
 startled the silence of the smooth bay with a wild clangour, that was 
 sweeter music to Charles's ear than ever he had heard in the palaces 
 of kings. 
 
 Assured by the adhesion of these bold few, he landed, and messages 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 221 
 
 were despatched to every hill and glen to tell that Charles Stuart had 
 come to fight for the throne of his fathers. Lochiel was the first to 
 obey the summons of his Prince, but he came to dissuade, not to 
 encourage him. He, unconscious of the scene that had fired the 
 Mac Donalds, represented the madness of attempting a rising without 
 aid from abroad, and recommended him to re-embark. 
 
 " No," said Charles, " as soon as I land what stores yet remain to 
 me on board the brig, she shall return to France, and thus will I cut 
 myself off from all retreat ; for I have come determined to conquer 
 or to perish. In a few days, with the few friends I have, I will raise 
 the royal standard, and Lochiel, who my father has often told me was 
 our firmest friend, may stay at home, and learn from the newspapers 
 the fate of his Prince." 
 
 The blood of the ** gentle Lochiel " curdled at his heart at these 
 bitter words, and his prudent resolutions were forgotten when his 
 honour was impeached, and his courage doubted. 
 
 " My Prince ! " he exclaimed with warmth, " whatever be your fate, 
 be the same fate mine, and the fate of all over whom nature or fortune 
 hath given me power. I will love and serve you while I have life, 
 and follow you to the death ! " 
 
 Preparation for a general rising was now rapidly made through 
 the highlands. Glenfinnin was named as the point of general ren- 
 dezvous, where the Jacobite clans might assemble in detail, until their 
 congregated force was sufficient to make a descent on the lowlands. 
 The glen was admirably suited for this purpose — a deep and 
 narrow valley, with a river running through it ; steep mountains 
 guarding it on both sides ; while at either end it was shut in by a 
 lake, thus preventing surprise from enemies, and rendering cavalry 
 utterly useless. 
 
 With his few immediate followers the Prince set out for the glen ; 
 on reaching the shores of the lake, a shrill whistle from their highland 
 guide called some wild gillies to their aid, a couple of small boats 
 were brought forth from the concealment of some deep rocky creeks 
 and low underwood, and launched upon the calm dark waters. About 
 midway across the lake, the valley became gradually visible, like a 
 deep rent in the mountains, presenting the picture of security. On 
 landing on the opposite shore, the party sought the hovel of a 
 shepherd, the only house within sight, and there leaving Ellen to rest, 
 for the journey had been somewhat fatiguing, the Prince and his little 
 band sauntered about the valley awaiting the arrival of the clans. 
 For some hours not a sound disturbed the silence of the glen, and its 
 savage grandeur and oppressive loneliness began to impart a tone 
 of melancholy to Charles, who had never till now beheld the wild 
 and solemn majesty of our northern hills. But that which made him 
 sad, gave delight to Lynch, and Kirwan, and Sullivan, (the Prince's 
 
222 £ S, d, 
 
 prime favourite, who was his companion in all his subsequent perils 
 and wanderings.) They saw in these bold hills and wild glens the 
 counterpart of their own dear western mountains of Ireland ; and after 
 the dead levels of Flanders, and the tame champaigns of France, on 
 which their eyes so long had rested, the sight of cliff, and fell, and 
 torrent, brought the features of home to their hearts, and the memory 
 of early days, — when in boyhood they followed their careless mountain 
 sports, and dreamt not, in that happy time, of future exile from their 
 native land, a return to which was risking death ! 
 
 Oh, happy boyhood ! which sees no joy nor sorrow, but that of the 
 day in which it breathes ; or whose future, whenever it dares to 
 speculate, seldom extends beyond a week. Whose highest enjoyments 
 are in the whistling whirl of the rod and line across the lively stream, 
 the sharp ring of the fowling piece, and the whir of the flying covey, 
 the neigh of the impatient steed, anticipating in the warning 
 tongue of the hound, the start of the game and the headlong chace. 
 Happy boyhood ! which cannot believe, however wisely preached, that 
 days will come, when such joys shall be as nothing ; that the mind 
 shall create for itself a world within more attractive than the external ; 
 that the questions of civil right and public good shall supersede all 
 private consideration ; that the present shall display its attractions in 
 vain against the interest which the past affords in its historic lessons, 
 and the future in its political hopes. 
 
 To our daring adventurers, the mountains revived such images of 
 their boyish sports ; these mountains that were now to become the 
 theatre of their manhood's sterner game. The stream was valued not 
 for its bounding fish, but as it might strengthen a position ; the gun 
 was now to threaten men, not birds ; and the neigh of the steed was 
 to be roused, not by the bay of the hound, but the blast of the war 
 trumpet. 
 
 The old Lord TuUibardine continued near the Prince, but he 
 became reserved, even to this gallant and faithful adherent of his 
 house, and sat apart upon a rock, seemingly overcast with saddening 
 thoughts, and at length leaning his head upon his hands as if in dark 
 communion with himself. Did the spirit of divination which gifts 
 the children of these misty hills then hover over him ? Did he see 
 the " rally and the rout " of Dark CuUoden ? Did he see the royal 
 Stuart forced to hide his manhood in a female garb, to wander, 
 hunted like a wolf, to shelter in a savage cave, and herd with 
 robbers? 
 
 But soon the visions of the Prince, whatever they were, vanished, 
 like the mist of morn before the sunbeam ; he was startled from his 
 trance by a wild peculiar sound which broke the solemn silence of the 
 glen. It was the pibroch of the Camerons. 
 
 Old TuUibardine waved his bonnet in the air, and his practised eye 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 223 
 
 caught the first glimpse of the clan as its vanward men passed the crest 
 of the hill, and might be seen glancing here and there through rocks 
 and heather, with which their tartans so blended, that none but the 
 initiated could mark their progress. He pointed them out to the 
 Prince, who, after some time, could discern them, while louder and 
 louder rang the pibroch, startling from the cliffs the eagles, which 
 boldly came forth and answered with their shout the war-strain, as if 
 they challenged those intruders on their solitary domain. And now 
 the clan became more visible, they had defiled into a mountain- 
 gully, and came pouring onward, a rush of living men down the 
 path of a winter-torrent. On reaching the valley they formed in two 
 lines, each line three deep, and advanced in good order to where 
 Charles Edward and his little staff were awaiting them. Lochiel was 
 at their head, and when he brought them to a halt before the Prince, 
 the first rank opened, and discovered, between the two lines, a small 
 detachment of English soldiers and their officer, prisoners. 
 
 " Behold, your Highness ! " said Lochiel, — " the first blow is already 
 struck, a party of my clan yesterday intercepted a detachment of the 
 red coats and beat them without the loss of a man on our side.* So 
 far the game is well begun." 
 
 " Your conquest would not have been so easy. Sir," said the English 
 officer, " but for the nature of the ground, and your peculiar mode of 
 fighting." 
 
 " As for that," said Lochiel, " we fight in the way we best under- 
 stand, and though it may not be according to your notion of tactics, 
 you cannot deny you were beaten." 
 
 " Sir," said the Prince to the officer, with his peculiar courtesy of 
 manner, " I at once liberate you on your parole. Rest here for the 
 present after your fatigue, and be my guest for this evening ; on the 
 morrow you may return to General Cope, and tell him I shall soon 
 give him battle." 
 
 The Prince was surprised to find the greater part of the clansmen 
 carrying guns, and inquired of Lochiel how that came to pass, while a 
 strict parliamentary act had disarmed the Highlands. 
 
 Lochiel laughed, and said the Highlanders had been nominally 
 deprived of arms by a stringent law : " But," said the acute moun- 
 taineer, " the sharper the law the sharper the people." He went on to 
 say that extreme laws were the easiest evaded : " Fools may give up 
 their arms," said he, " but wise men will keep them." And he pro- 
 tested, that however cunning and vigilant the officers of the govern- 
 ment might be, he defied them to discover arms amongst a bold and 
 acute people, who were determined not to give them up. " Those 
 who hide can find," said Lochiel ; " and sign's by it," he added, 
 
 * Fact. 
 
224 £ 5. d, 
 
 pointing to his clan ; for, despite of the Arms Bill, he had brought six 
 hundred armed, out of his eight, at a short notice.* 
 
 Then turning to Tullibardine the Prince exclaimed, " Raise my 
 standard, mj Lord ! " The old nobleman received it from Ellen, whose 
 own hands had worked it ; and as the silken folds of mingled white, 
 blue, and red were unfurled, and lifted upwards in the breeze that 
 flaunted the colours gaily about, a deafening shout arose from eight 
 hundred stalwart mountaineers, that made the echoes of Glenfinnin 
 ring again, and once more disturbed the eagle in his eyrie. 
 
 How proudly beat Ellen's heart, as leaning on her father's arm she 
 saw the ensign of her king displayed, and heard it recognised in loyal 
 shouts, while his royal proclamation was read beneath it. And yet a 
 shudder crossed her woman-heart as she thought that gay and 
 silken work of woman's hand, in peaceful hour, should muster the 
 hands of men around it in deadly fight. That banner which had been 
 her favourite occupation and companion in the quiet convent of Bruges 
 and the luxurious boudoir of Paris, should float for the future amidst 
 the thunder of the battle and the hardships of war. 
 
 How rapt in admiration was Kirwan, as he marked the enthu- 
 siastic gaze of the beautiful girl upon the standard. He fancied he 
 divined her thoughts, and approaching her, whispered gently, — " Ellen, 
 while within reach of my sword he will be a bold foe that plucks that 
 standard down." And in saying this the lover thought less of his loyalty 
 to his King than his devotion to the work of his mistress's hands. 
 
 A marble column marks the spot where that ill-fated banner was 
 raised ; even now we may stand where the enthusiast Lynch and his 
 gentle daughter, the devoted lover, the loyal Lochiel, the faithful 
 Sullivan, and the ambitious Prince, then stood, and trusted in hopes 
 that were doomed to be blighted. 
 
 Yet why mark with a column that spot of blighted hopes ?— Alas ! 
 there is no spot on earth which might not thus be celebrated, save that 
 spot where we kneel and pray in the hope of the Christian — the only 
 hope that deceiveth not I 
 
 * " By an act of the first of the late King (George I.), intituled, 'For the more 
 effectually securing the Peace of the Highlands,' the whole highlands, without dis- 
 tinction, were disarmed, and for ever forbid to use or bear arms, under penalties. 
 This act has been found, by experience, to work the quite contrary effect from 
 what was intended by it ; and, in reality, it proves a measure for more effectually 
 disturbing the peace of the highlands and the rest of the kingdom. For, at the 
 time appointed for the disarming act, all the dutiful and well-affected clans truly 
 submitted to the Act of Parliament, and gave up their arms, so that they are now 
 completely disarmed ; but the disaffected clans either concealed their arms at first, 
 or have provided themselves since with other arms. The fatal effects of this 
 difference at the time of a rebellious insurrection must be very obvious ; and are, 
 by us in this county, felt at this hour " — Letter of Andrew Fletcher^ Lord Milton^ 
 Justice- Clerk, to the Marquess Tweeddale, Secretary of State for Scotland. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 After the reading of the proclamation the Highlanders were dis- 
 missed from their parade, and occupied themselves in preparing for a 
 feast ; gathering what would suit for fuel in the glen they lit fires, and 
 cooking commenced, in which they were assisted by many of their 
 women, who came dropping in at the rear of the clan, carrying loads 
 of provisions and kegs of whisky. Long wattles were placed in the 
 ground, and small arcades of successive arches formed, over which 
 blankets were thrown to make shelter for the women and children, for 
 even children were among them, while shorter sticks, tending in the 
 form of a cone, and thatched with fern plucked by the boys and girls 
 among the rocks, made a more primitive retreat, and the valley soon 
 assumed the air of an encampment. The shepherd's hut served for 
 the accommodation of Ellen ; for though it was intended for the 
 prince, as the best shelter the place afforded, he, with a courtly gal- 
 lantry, refused to take it when a lady was in his "little court," as he 
 playfully called it, and the hut therefore was allotted to Ellen, and, as 
 a point of nice punctilio, to her father. 
 
 " As for myself," said the Prince, " I shall sleep, like the brave 
 fellows who come to fight for me, on the heather, in my plaid ;" for 
 Charles, to flatter the nationality of the Highlanders, had assumed the 
 tartan, and, as he said himself, in the parlance of Italy, to which he 
 was most accustomed, " to lie al fresco was no great penalty in the 
 month of August." 
 
 As the evening advanced, other forces poured into the valley. 
 Again, the echoes of Glenfinnin were waked by the pibrochs of Mac 
 Donald and Mac Leod, and upwards of four hundred devoted men 
 strengthened the force of the Prince, who greeted his adherents as 
 they arrived. 
 
 And now the wild feast was spread. Charles and his little staff and 
 the chieftains were stationed on a gently rising knoll, which served as 
 a sort of natural " dais," whence they might be seen by all the clans- 
 men who were huddled around without much attention to order. Game 
 of various sorts served for viands ; and while some claret was thought- 
 fully brought by Lochiel for the Prince, who might not like their 
 stronger mountain beverage, whisky was the favourite liquor of the 
 
226 £ S, d. 
 
 evening. When all the eatables were disposed of, Lochiel rose and 
 addressed tlie assembled clans in a speech quite unintelligible to him 
 whom it praised and was meant to serve, for the Prince did not under- 
 stand a word of Erse, (though his Irish adherents could gather most 
 of the meaning), but, judging from the effect it produced, it was 
 spirit-stirring in the extreme, for the Highlanders yelled in delight as 
 he proceeded, and quaffed their brimming cups to the last drop, as the 
 chieftain wound up his speech with the toast of " JDeochs laint an 
 MeoghV'' 
 
 The pipers struck up the tune of " The king shall have his own 
 again;" and as the mountaineers warmed to the spirit of the scene, the 
 music had an electric effect upon them, and up they jumped and 
 began dancing. Those who could get women to join them, all the 
 better, but the absence of the gentle sex was no bar to the merriment, 
 for the men pranced away amongst each other with as much seeming 
 glee as if each had the "bonniest lassie" in all Scotland for his 
 partner. 
 
 The chieftains were not exempted from the exercise, for two of the 
 women coming up and dropping curtsies to Lochiel and Mac Donald, 
 challenged them to the dance.f Forth stepped the chieftains as ready 
 for the front of the festival as the front of the battle. The Prince, 
 full of that " condescension " for which great people are so famous 
 when they have a point to carry, wished to join in the common revelry, 
 and offered his hand to Ellen if they would play a cotillon, but the 
 Higliland pipers knew no such outlandish stuff. Lynch, seeing the 
 Prince's desire that all about him should make general cause in the 
 mirthful spirit of the hour, said his daughter would dance a jig with 
 " any comer " if there was a piper present who would play one. 
 
 " Hurra ! " exclaimed a voice, not unknown to Lynch. " Faith, 
 then, it's I will play the jig for the mastherl " 
 
 Lynch turned to the spot whence the voice came, and beheld, to his 
 astonishment, Phaidrig-na-pib led up to him by Netl. 
 
 "Here's the music, sir," cried Ned to the Captain ; "and may I,'* 
 he said, with all the humility and devotion he could impart to his 
 voice, " have the honour of leading Miss Lynch to the dance ? " 
 
 Ellen uttered an exclamation of surprise at sight of Ned, and 
 eagerly asked what extraordinary chance had thrown him there. He 
 told her he would explain all to her when the dance was over, and 
 Phaidrig, losing no time " for the honour of Ireland," in lilting up the 
 very merriest of his jigs, Ned and Ellen set to, and won rapturous 
 
 * God save the King. 
 
 t This custom exists still, I believe, in Scotland, but certainly in Ireland, at 
 harvest-homes and such festivals, where the highest gentleman would be consi- 
 dered recreant who would refuse the * challenge ' of a peasant girl. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 227 
 
 applause from the surrounding lookers on. Ellen had that sound 
 spirit of nationality, unfailingly allied to good sense, which made her 
 not slight, even if she did not love, any customs of her native 
 country. She could tread the stately minuet or lively cotillon with 
 courtly grace, but equally well could she bound through the tricksy 
 steps of the merry jig ; and the arm a-kimbo, and the 
 
 " Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles," 
 
 SO peculiarly belonging to that flirty dance, were never more attractive 
 than in the person of Ellen Lynch^ 
 
 Now Ned could dance a jig right well too, and with the readiness 
 of an Irishman he seized the occasion of showing off his good point, 
 while he secured at the same time what he considered the highest 
 honour on earth. All his exertions were called forth by the sight of 
 the beautiful girl whose graceful action even to one who was not 
 already in love with her might have made him so ; and whether it was 
 the peculiar occasion, the presence of the Prince, or the honour of her 
 country, it is impossible to say, but Ellen certainly danced uncom- 
 monly well; in short, she seemed to *'take share of the jig " with all 
 her heart. 
 
 The bystanders cheered the dance amazingly, and the point of 
 honour of " who should give in first," was made more precious every 
 minute. Ellen strove hard to " dance her man down," but Ned would 
 not be beaten, and when breathless and panting his flushed and 
 exhausted partner almost dropped with fatigue, Ned tripped forward 
 with the air of a true cavalier, and supporting his lovely burthen firmly 
 yet delicately in his arms, he led her, amidst loud applause, to ^ gentle 
 slope, and seated her on a bunch of heather with as much ceremony as 
 though it had been a velvet chair. As he retired, after thanking her 
 for the honour of her hand, and receiving in return a gracious glance 
 of her sweet eyes, he met the gaze of Kirwan, looking thunder. 
 
 Whether it was that the fitful light of the fires imparted an unusual 
 flashing to the eye, that the ruddy light tinged his glance with an 
 outwai'd glare rather than it burned from a fire within^ Ned could not 
 at the instant determine, but he felt it was the most repulsive look he 
 ever encountered: — the more so, as Kirwan's aspect was generally 
 good-humoured ; — handsome though he was, it was the expression of 
 cheerful good-nature which rendered his countenance so prepossessing, 
 and over such the shade of evil passions makes its most startling im- 
 press. Kirwan, for the moment, looked almost fiendish, and at the 
 instant felt an agony of soul he had never before experienced ; for as 
 the eyes of the rivals met, there was in Ned's look a joy so bright, a 
 something more akin to the skies than the earth, so expressive of 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 £ S. d, 
 
 unlooked-for joy, of hope realized, that its brightness shot infi- 
 nitely more of anguish to the soul of Kirwan, than his lowering aspect 
 did of regret to Ned, in this passing encounter of their eyes. That 
 glance was but instantaneous, and yet in that one moment those men 
 felt they were for ever and for aye, deep, deadly, irreconcilable foes. 
 
 This was the more painful, because both had rather desired to be 
 friends. Ned, for Lynch's sake, would scrupulously have avoided a 
 quarrel with Kirwan ; and he, on the other hand, could not forget that 
 to Edward's hand he owed his life, when he missed his footing in 
 springing on board the Seagull in the storm. He would have given 
 the world not to be thus indebted. To owe a favour to the man you 
 hate is indeed terrible, and Kirwan all on a sudden thoroughly hated 
 our hero, for until that moment he had never dreamt of him as a 
 rival ; but there was an indefinable something about Ellen's dancing 
 which made Kirwan's heart sink within him. It is true, he had never 
 been received as Ellen's recognised suitor ; a long and attached friend- 
 ship was the highest claim he ever held to be so much in her society ; 
 and though Lynch would have been glad of Kirwan's alliance by mar* 
 riage, Ellen's bearing towards him, while replete with friendliness and 
 confidence, could never for a moment be mistaken for love. 
 
 This, however, Kirwan hoped by long devotion to achieve at last ; 
 but, though the smiles of the gentle sex were no strangers to him, 
 though a general favourite with the fair, and often envied for his 
 ready access to their good graces, he felt that he had not made impres- 
 sion on Ellen's heart, though he was conscious of her utmost esteem. 
 Can it be wondered at, then, that thus suddenly discovering a rival in 
 a man he was inclined to consider, if not quite an adventurer, at least 
 much his inferior in rank, he should look upon him with peculiar 
 aversion ; that the hopes he had been long building up being thus 
 suddenly overthrown, should as suddenly engender hatred for the 
 author of his disappointment ? 
 
 Conscious that his aspect might betray the emotions which struggled 
 within, he turned away from the group, and walked apart for some 
 time. On his return he had no greater reason to be satisfied, for 
 though Ned was not in the neighbourhood of Ellen, he saw him closely 
 engaged in conversation with Tullibardine, Lynch, and the principal 
 men of the party, and even with the Prince himself; and this argued 
 an importance in his position which afforded fresh cause of uneasiness, 
 for whatever made him useful to "the cause," would give him interest 
 in the eyes not only of Ellen, but of her father. 
 
 It was immediately after the dance, when Kirwan had walked 
 away, that Lynch inquired of Ned how he came to make so sud- 
 den and unexpected an appearance in the glen. Ned gave a brief 
 sketch of his adventurous measures to join the expedition, but with 
 
TllEASURE TROVE. 229 
 
 great tact abstained from personal affairs, as soon as possible, and 
 entered upon the subject of the secret Jacobite interests as entrusted 
 to him by Lord Barrymore ; whereupon Lynch praised him much for 
 his zeal and activity, and led him at once to the Prince ; who, on 
 learning the importance of what Ned had to communicate, retired with 
 him and his principal adherents to a neighbouring hillock, and re- 
 ceived, with the aid of Phaidrig's memory, such detailed accounts of 
 the assistance they might expect in England, that the hearts of the 
 adventurers, exulting in the hopes before them, opened in welcome to 
 the bearer of the glad tidings, and Ned found himself suddenly a 
 person of some consideration. The Prince repeatedly addressed him, 
 and at the conclusion of the conference praised him for his zeal, cou- 
 rage, and activity; and when the party separated to throw themselves 
 on their beds of heather. Lynch had some more parting words with 
 Ned as they walked together towards the hut whither Ellen had 
 already retired. As they parted at the door. Lynch told his young 
 friend he should find the best bed he could for himself on the heather, 
 to which Ned replied that to one who had often kept the middle 
 watch in a gale, a heather bed in August was luxury. 
 
 But Ned did not feel himself inclined for immediate repose; for although 
 he had walked many a weary mountain mile that day, the excitement 
 of the evening countervailed the natural desire for rest. His meeting with 
 Ellen, and her gracious bearing towards him, raised hopes which Lynch's 
 manner and the Prince's condescension were calculated to heighten, 
 and which Ned had no wish to drown in slumber for the present, so 
 he sauntered up the glen which was fast sinking into quiet. The 
 whisky had done its duty ; the Highlanders were stretched in drunken 
 sleep beside their watch-fires, already beginning to burn low, whose 
 dull red light, as it glinted upon some overhanging rock, contrasted 
 in picturesque relief to the pale light of the moon, which now illu- 
 mined the silent depths of the valley. 
 
 It was the very region of romance ; and in such a region Edward 
 might well indulge his own. Oh, what living, real romance was there ! 
 A prince had come to claim a crown, and with a daring few had com- 
 menced the bold adventure. Those faithful few, forgetful of all other 
 ties, the dearest and most real nature knows, clung to that ideal one 
 which from boyhood upward had held a secret, and therefore the 
 dearest place in their enthusiast hearts — the tie of loyalty. They, in 
 turn, had their followers educated in the blind but affectionate and 
 generous motive to follow the fortune of their chief, whithersoever it 
 might lead ; and here were prince, and chieftains, and clansmen, all 
 sunk alike into the forgetfulness of slumber ; slumber on the edge of 
 doom ! even that royal head, which now, resting on the wild heather, 
 might in a few eventful days lie beneath the palace canopy or on the 
 
230 c£ 5. cL 
 
 scaffold's block, forgot itself in sleep. The ambitious prince — the 
 devoted adherent — the reckless clansmen — all could sleep, but the 
 travel-tired lover coidd not repose. No. Nought can disturb the 
 heart like love — nought else so chase the soul of rest. Kingcraft and 
 loyalty are of the world's making ; but love is of nature's creation, and 
 therefore more absorbing in its influence. 
 
 Edward had a confused consciousness of all this around and passing 
 within him, though he could not have defined his sensations in words ; 
 but he apostrophised the name of his mistress, asking himself why he 
 alone should be waking in that valley, as he walked amidst the 
 sleepers. He looked towards the hut which sheltered Ellen, and 
 approached it with the pleasing notion of making his couch near the 
 place where she rested. 
 
 As he brushed briskly through the heather in the eagerness of the 
 fond idea, the rustling attracted somebody already in the neighbour- 
 hood of the hut, who raising himself on his arm from his recumbent 
 position, demanded, " Who goes there ? " 
 
 " A friend," replied Ned, still advancing. 
 
 The challenger sprung to his feet and confronted him ; and Ned 
 beheld in the person who barred his path, Kirwan. 
 
 The moonlight perfectly revealed both the men to each other, and 
 neither spoke for some time, but stood gazing silently on each other. 
 Kirwan's visage was sad and pale, and it seemed as if he made an 
 effort to be calm. At length he asked some vague question, to which 
 Edward returned as vague a reply ; and after the interchange of some 
 broken sentences they seemed as much perplexed how to part as they 
 were startled by their meeting. Each knew the other's motive for 
 being there, as well as if the motive had been his own, yet dared not 
 hint at such a knowledge. Each knew the working of the other's 
 heart, as well as if he were inside it, yet tried to appear as indifferent 
 as if they had not a heart between them. Both the men at that 
 moment would have gladly seized each other by the throat, and 
 struggled to the death, or gashed each other with their swords, yet 
 were forced to assume the formalities of acquaintanceship ; and when 
 they stumbled on an excuse for parting, mutually uttered a hurried 
 good-night," while they wished each other at the d 1. 
 
 The following day was full of bustle and activity. An early council 
 of war was called to consider the propriety of an immediate march to 
 the south, but Lochiel and the other chieftains recommended the delay 
 of one day more at Glenfinnin for the reception of small straggling 
 parties of Highlanders which might be expected, and would be dis- 
 heartened, or perhaps turn back if they found no friends awaiting them 
 in the glen. This being decided on, the remainder of tlie day was 
 given up to amusement. Athletic sports were engaged in by the 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 231 
 
 mountaineers for the entertainment of the Prince, while Ellen and a 
 few who loved the picturesque made a little party to explore the 
 beauties of the glen. It was after the fatigue of a steep ascent which 
 they had made in their excursion, that the little basket of refreshment 
 was opened, and their simple repast spread in a pretty sheltered nook 
 of the hills, where a rivulet, crystal-bright, bounding down the rocks, 
 offered ready beverage to the party. Here it was that Ellen called 
 upon Ned to tell her of his adventures since they had parted at sea, 
 and by what extraordinary means he had contrived to follow them. 
 This he did in more detailed form than the night before to her father, 
 but still without making himself offensively prominent in the story ; 
 and all listened with pleasure to the adventurous little history — his 
 contriving to get away from France, his fishing-boat passage of the 
 channel, his secret landing in England, escapes in London, and 
 northern journey, which latterly became dangerous, from the suspicion 
 of the authorities in the lowland towns attaching to all southerns 
 travelling to the north. All the incidental questions that were asked 
 him in the course of his narrative were answered with so much clear- 
 ness and good sense that he obtained consideration among his hearers. 
 
 Kir wan was not among these ; his duties obliging him to remain in 
 the camp, much to his chagrin, as he saw Ellen departing with Ned in 
 her train. As for Ned, it was the happiest day of his life. The 
 beautiful girl he adored listened with pleasure to the recital of his 
 adventures, and there was a nameless charm in her manner towards 
 him which gave him joy for the present and hope for the future. How 
 lovely did she seem in his eyes, as she reclined in that little rocky dell 
 upon the short aromatic grass, where the tiny flowers had crept for 
 shelter. Her fairy foot was playing with a hare-bell which lay close 
 beside it, and Ned would have given the world for the painter's power 
 at that moment to record the beauty of its arched instep and rounded 
 ankle. 
 
 Young Ronald Macdonald was of the party, albeit not insensible to 
 Ellen's beauty, and she called on the young chieftain to arouse them 
 from their too luxurious quiet by one of those spirit-stirring songs 
 with which he was wont to gladden the hearts of the king's friends : 
 one of those strains whose fiery poetry roused men to action, and out- 
 lives the cause by which they were inspired. 
 
 The young chieftain poured forth his very heart in the song, which 
 well suited the genius of the place, and as he arrived at its burthen, — 
 
 " Come through the heather, 
 Around him gather, I 
 
 You're a' the welcomer airly," 
 
 every voice joined in the chorus, and felt the aptness of the strain, for 
 the heather was around them, and they were " a' the welcomer airly" — 
 they were the first of the adherents. 
 
232 -Ms, d, 
 
 " Ellen's foot had kept beating time to the melody, and Ronald re- 
 marked that if she kept time so well he was sure she could sing, and 
 that hers truly was the land of song. 
 
 She obeyed the call, and sang that exquisitely plaintive melody 
 called " Limerick's Lamentation," which touched the heart of every 
 hearer ; and when it was concluded, Ronald made her promise she would 
 teach it to him, as it was one of the loveliest airs he had ever heard. 
 " But it is so sad," he added. 
 
 " And well may it be," said Ellen. " It was written to com- 
 memorate the expatriation of us poor Irish after the violation of the 
 treaty of Limerick, and hence its name." 
 
 " I will learn it," said Ronald. And so he did, and the air became 
 afterwards a great favourite in Scotland, where it is now known under 
 the name of " Farewell to Lochaber," for the beauty of the strain 
 caught the ear and waked the genius of Burns. 
 
 Ned was now called on to contribute to the harmony of the party, 
 and said he would attempt a variety in the style of the song he should 
 give. The others treated of war and exile ; he should deal with a softer 
 subject, which was the unfailing contrast to war in the hands of the 
 poets. 
 
 " Aye — love ! " said Ronald : " you lowlanders are always thinking 
 of sighing and whining after your lady's apron string. Oh the moun- 
 tains for me, which brace a man's nerves to bolder strains ! " 
 
 " Softly," said Ned : " in the first place I am not a lowlander, — 
 I came from the region of mountain and lake as well as yourself, and 
 I never heard it objected to a warrior that he could play the lover also. 
 Nay, my love-song even shall not treat of the valley, but hold forth 
 the fitness of the mountain for tender recollections 'as well as warlike 
 achievements. Why should we not 
 
 * Come thro' the heather' 
 
 at the behest of a lady as well as of a king ? " and he bowed low to 
 Ellen as he spoke, and then began : — 
 
 Wiyz iWountain IBfto. 
 
 " By yon mountain, tipp'd with clciul, 
 By the torrent foaming loud, 
 By the dingle where the purple bells of heather grew, 
 Where the Alpine flow'rs are hid, 
 And where bounds the nimble kid — 
 There we've wander'd both together through the mountain dew 
 AVitli what delight in summer's night we trod the twilight gloom, 
 The air so full of fragrance from the flow'rs so full of bloom, 
 And our hearts so full of joy — for aught else there was no room. 
 As we wander'd both together through the mountain dew ! 
 
TREASl^HE TROVE. 233 
 
 II. 
 
 ," Those sparkling gems that rest 
 On the mountain's flow'ry breast 
 Are like the joys we number — they are bright and few, 
 For a while to earth are given, 
 And are call'd again to heaven, 
 When the spirit of the morning steals the mountain dew. 
 But memory, angelic, makes a heaven on earth for men, 
 Here rosy light recalletli bright the dew-drops back again ; 
 The warmth of love exhales them from that well-remember'd glen, 
 Where we wander'd both together through the mountain dew." 
 
 Even the fiery Ronald admitted that a song not unworthy of the 
 mountain might be sung to a softer theme than war, and one after 
 another of the party gave some snatch of — 
 
 " Music wedded to immortal verse." 
 
 And right pleasantly passed the day, until the shadows warned them 
 it was time to return and join the evening feast, which the Prince 
 was to hold again in Glenfinnin. As they descended to the valley, 
 Ned seized many an opportunity of tendering his services to Ellen, 
 whose beautiful hand was often within his, as he steadied her footstep 
 round some precipitous ledge, or atforded Iier support as she sprang 
 from some overhanging rock, too high to dare a leap from, without 
 such aid. Happy, happy Ned ! — he would have wished the descent 
 to be interminable, but such sweet moments must come to an end, and 
 he found himself too soon at the mountain-foot, where preparation for 
 festivity was in active progression. 
 
 It was not long till the feast was spread, and the Prince and his 
 adherents (much increased in number by fresh arrivals) re-enacted the 
 scene of the former evening. Again to the King's health did Glen- 
 finnin resound ; again shrieked the pipes in wild music ; again the 
 fantastic dance beat the ground — but there was no jig. Ellen pleading 
 fatigue had retired early, so the jealous glances of the rivals were 
 spared, as well as their moonlight walk and meeting of the preceding 
 night, and if Kirwan did not sleep soundly, Ned certainly did. 
 
234 £ S. d. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 The following morning, at an early hour, the forces of Charles 
 Edward started on their southern route, and the house of the " gentle 
 Lochiel " w^as their next appointed halting-place. 
 
 Now, while the Highlanders are on their march, it may be as well 
 for the author to beckon his kind companion, the reader, into a 
 bye-path, and have a few confidential words w^ith him about the 
 march of his story. Let him (the reader) not be afraid that he is about 
 to be dragged through the high road of history, with which he is as well, 
 if not better acquainted than the author himself. The story of the 
 adventurous Prince is too well known by the world in general, to afford 
 rational hope to an author that any fresh research or "new dresses, 
 scenery, and decorations," of his, could invest that romantic drama 
 with a fresh interest. Therefore, once for all, let it be understood 
 that no more of the history of this period will be touched upon than 
 properly belongs to the affairs of the persons connected with our 
 story. In touching on the immediate time and place of such startling 
 historic events, it cannot be forgotten that the greatest novelist of any 
 age or country has made the theme his own, and that while the course 
 of the present tale lies through such beaten ground, the author feels 
 like a trespasser, pursuing his game over a manor that must be ever 
 well preserved in the grateful memories of admiring millions. There- 
 fore, with what speed he may, he will hasten his course, nor venture 
 one step he can avoid in a region it w^ere literary sacrilege to 
 profanei 
 
 And now, so much being said, let us join the general march, and 
 halt with the Highlanders and the " gentle Lochiel." 
 
 The gathering of the clans was increased at the home of the gallant 
 chieftain. Mac Donald of Glenco, Stuart of Appin, and the younger 
 Glengarry, joined their forces to those already assembled ; and though, 
 despite the Arms bill, they were wonderfully provided with offensive 
 weapons, nevertheless, some hundreds were wanting in that essential 
 point of war, and a council was held to deliberate on the best mode of 
 remedying the deficiency. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 235 
 
 After the council had broken up, the theme of its deliberation con- 
 tinued to be the subject of conversation among the leaders, and 
 repeatedly regret was expressed that the Prince had come so ill pro- 
 vided with arms. TuUibardine, Lynch, and others of the Prince's 
 immediate followers, reminded the chieftains that it was not from 
 lack of foresight such a want was experienced, but that the fortune 
 of war had interrupted that most necessary supply — the ship bearing 
 the military stores having been intercepted. 
 
 Kirwan could not resist this opportunity of saying something io 
 annoy Ned, and though his better nature pointed out to him at the 
 instant he spoke the unkindness and injustice of his words, the 
 demon of jealousy would not let him be silent, but goaded him on to 
 wound in any way he could. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " if those on board the Elizabeth had only done 
 their duty, and fought their ship becomingly, we should now have 
 plenty of arms and ammunition." 
 
 Ned, in the peculiar relation he stood with Kirwan, was quite as 
 ready to take, as the other to give offence, and instantly retorted, " If 
 the Doutelle had not deserted the Elizabeth — " 
 
 "Deserted!" interrupted Kirwan, captiously; "you forget his 
 Highness was on board — too precious a freight to endanger ; besides, 
 what could a light-armed brig do against a fifty-gun ship? while the 
 Elizabeth, carrying sixty-seven, should have been able to beat an 
 inferior adversary." 
 
 " The Elizabeth" said Ned, " was an old and inefiicient ship, while 
 the Lion was perfect in all respects ; and I feel myself bound to bear 
 testimony to the gallantry of the captain and crew of the Frenchman. 
 No ship could be better fought." 
 
 " Very possibly," said Kirwan, superciliously, " I only mean to say 
 it was pity she was beaten." 
 
 " She was not beaten," replied Ned, warmly. " It was a drawn 
 battle, and a bitter and bloody one too ; there was not a stick left 
 standing in either ship." 
 
 " We have lost our arms, however," returned Kirwan. 
 
 " If the Doutelle had used her guns," said Ned, " we should not 
 want arms; not only the Elizabeth, but the Lion too, as our prize, 
 would have been here." 
 
 " Oh," said Kirwan, "it's easy to talk of what would have been. 
 I speak of what happened. You7' ship was driven back." 
 
 " If you talk of my ship," said Ned, " I must talk of your's — and 
 I should rather be on board the ship that fought, than the ship that 
 ran aAvay." 
 
 " Ran away !" echoed Kirwan, furiously. " What do you mean ?" 
 and he laid his hand on his sword. 
 
236 £ S. d. 
 
 " •' Peace ! peace !" cried Lynch, authoritatively, and restraining 
 Kirvvan's arm. " Gentlemen, this is an unseemly and uncalled-for 
 altercation. We are too few to quarrel among ourselves — let our 
 swords be drawn on our enemies, not on each other. I make it a 
 personal request to each that not a Avord further pass between you. — 
 I am sure no offence was meant on either side." 
 
 A general exclamation of " certainly not," arose among the 
 chieftains, though some suspected there might have been; and Lynch 
 was quite sure there was, and grieved to think upon the cause, and 
 not wishing to trust the men longer in each other's company, passed 
 his arm through Kirwan's, and withdrew from the group, which by 
 common consent dispersed immediately afterwards. 
 
 Ned's temper, though ruffled, soon recovered its tone, from the 
 consciousness that he had repelled any affront that was meant, and 
 maintained his position ; and during the evening, in the house of the 
 Highland chief, he renewed his opportunities of speaking with Ellen, 
 undeterred by Kirwan's lowering brow, which, despite his efforts to 
 the contrary, betrayed his inward feelings. 
 
 The next day, too, while pursuing their route to Blair Castle, the 
 seat of old Lord Tullibardine, he often walked by Ellen's bridle-rein, as 
 she sat her rough highland pony down the steep declivities of the 
 mountain road ; and though often obliged to give place to Kirwan, 
 equally arduous in his attention, yet Ned made a good fight for the 
 place of honour, and lost no opportunity of being near the lady of his 
 heart. 
 
 This struggle for the honour of '''groom in waiting " between the 
 rivals, was not unobserved by Lynch, who would gladly have pre- 
 vented it by assuming the place himself, but that his presence was 
 demanded in front, beside the Prince, who was in close converse with 
 him on the subject of the expected share L'cland would take in the 
 insurrectionary movements, while Tullibardine was called on for 
 his counsel. 
 
 The old lord, who had been actively engaged in the conference, 
 soon became abstracted, and seemed scarcely to hear a word that was 
 addressed to him. This absence of mind was accounted for to the 
 Prince, by one of the chieftains, who told him they were approaching 
 Blair Atliol, and that Tullibardine's heart was full at the thought of 
 nearing his old halls after so long an absence. It was even so. 
 Thirty years had elapsed since the heroic old man had been in his 
 native land, whence the same cause had procured his exile that now 
 induced his return, and his countenance betrayed the varying emotions 
 that stirred his soul, as he drew near the castle. 
 
 As they topped an acclivity, the turn of a sharp angle in the road 
 revealed to the old lord his ancestral towers ; first clear and distinct. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 237 
 
 but soon dim and uncertain, for lie saw them through the mist of 
 affection which his heart sent up before his eyes, as he looked on the 
 home of his childhood. Other emotions were there, too, as well as 
 those of affection. This staunch adherent of his king had received 
 the father of the present prince in those very halls; then, on an 
 enterprise like the present, had proved his fidelity, and forfeited his 
 estates ; and now was returned, after more than a quarter of a century 
 of exile, to risk all he had remaining — his life — in the same desperate 
 cause. 
 
 Ashamed to have witnesses to his emotion, the old man hastened 
 onward, upon the pretence of being ready to receive the Prince at 
 the castle. When he reached the portal there was a reception 
 awaiting himself. Some old adherents of the house, who yet survived 
 the ravages of time, and the still more actively depopulating measures 
 of the law after " the fifteenth," were ready to receive him at the 
 gate, and hailed him as the "Duke of Athol," the title held by his 
 Whig brother, (or the " fau'se laird," as the people called him,) by way 
 of reward for his adhesion to the Guelphic interest. 
 
 One fine old man, in particular, whose white hairs proclaimed age, 
 and on whose face a scar indicated warlike service, was foremost in 
 welcome : calling down blessings on the head of the old lord, he ran 
 before him into the castle^ shouting, '•' It's a' your ain again ! — a' 
 your ain!" 
 
 But Tullibardine did not follow. His prince being close at hand, 
 he awaited his arrival at the portal, where he received him with loyal 
 welcome as he alighted, and prayed him to enter his castle, which he 
 considered less his own than his king's. He stood uncovered as he 
 spoke, and when he had finished his short but devoted speech, he 
 threw his bonnet in the air, as a signal to the surrounding retainers, 
 whose answering shouts made the walls of Blair Athol ring again, as 
 the Prince entered its gates. 
 
 Much confusion was apparent in the interior appointments, owing 
 to the sudden departure of its recent occupant ; the open doors of 
 closets and cupboards with emptied shelves, papers scattered about, 
 and remnants of valueless utensils, showed that documents of any 
 value and all the plate had been removed. Old Tullibardine, after 
 ransacking every corner of his castle, came back laughing to the 
 Prince, swearing " the loon had not left as much as a silver spoon in 
 the house." Rejoicing, however, that the cellar could not be emptied 
 at a short notice, the brave old gentleman set about getting up a feast 
 directly, and all the resources the neighbourhood could furnish were 
 put in requisition for the purpose. In the meanwhile the Prince was 
 conducted by his host through the castle, much of which had been 
 modernized, to the great grief of Tullibardine, who regretted each 
 
238 £ S. d, 
 
 innovation, which made his castle look less like what it was when he 
 had left it. On entering the garden his surprise was still greater, to 
 find additions to a considerable extent had been made in this depart- 
 ment ; even to the luxury of green and hothouses, and the culture of 
 foreign fruits. It was at Blair Athol, Charles Edward first tasted 
 pine-apples, which the banquet of that festal day furnished. A wild 
 and singular banquet it was ; the dishes were of a sufficiently substan- 
 tial character for the old baronial times ; the exigencies of the hour 
 precluded the possibility of the careful cooking of anything ; while the 
 produce of the gardens and the cellars bespoke modern refinement, and 
 were fit for the board of a king ; but even here the absence of all 
 suitable accessories was ludicrous. The commonest ware, and not 
 much of that, bore costly delicacies ; and the choicest wines were quaffed 
 from horn cups. But still right joyous was that wild banquet, and 
 the ancient hall of Blair Athol rang through the night with loud 
 merriment, till dawn surprised some of the carousers at their potations, 
 and the hoarse exhausted song of the reveller was but a prelude to the 
 clear, outgushing melody of the lark. 
 
 That morning melody had wakened Ellen from her slumbers, which 
 had been deep and refreshing, far removed from the riot of the hall ; 
 and she arose to enjoy the early fragrance of the gardens she saw 
 sparkling in dew beneath her window. To rove through a garden 
 was at all times to Ellen an exquisite pleasure, and she found in that 
 of Blair Athol much to admire. It seemed as if great care had been 
 bestowed on this department of the establishment, and in her walk 
 among its flowers the morning passed swiftly away. As the day ad- 
 vanced, stragglers running to and fro indicated the stir of life again 
 about the castle, and the old lord himself was soon after seen making 
 his appearance upon a grassy slope, that led from the house to the 
 garden. As in this neighbourhood there was a beautiful bed of flowers, 
 Ellen hastened thither, doubting not she should find him, but on 
 reaching the spot she stood alone amidst its bloom and its fragrance ; 
 she raised her voice and called on him by name, but no answer was 
 returned, and then, stepping into one of the neighbouring walks, slie 
 commenced a search. At length she caught a glimpse of him through 
 an opening in an old hedge, whose antiquity showed it to be an origi- 
 nal boundary of the garden, and she followed to keep him company. 
 As she approached, she observed him looking attentively upon the 
 trunk of an ancient tree, beside which an old but flourishing bush of 
 white rose was growing, and he had just taken a knife from his pocket 
 as if to cut some memento on the bark, which already bore the rough 
 seams of some former carving. 
 
 On being addressed by Ellen, the old gentleman turned round and 
 saluted her courteously, while she inquired how he could choose to 
 

 .") -•^vii'/'c r 
 
 M^mA^ 9U- 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 239 
 
 ramble in that grass-grown and neglected place, while so beautiful a 
 garden lay so near. 
 
 " My dear child," he said, " this was the garden. Yonder is the 
 doing of my Whig brother, who loves new kings and new fashions 
 better than I. 77m is the place where I stole apples as a boy, and I 
 would not give this neglected, grass-grown spot, for ten times the 
 " beautifications " that have been made at the other side of that hedge. 
 Do you see that old tree ? I have climbed it when it and I w^ere younger, 
 to the terror of my poor mother. It bears a memento, too, of my hand 
 in manhood — look here !" and he pointed out to her, as he spoke, the 
 initials of his name and the date 1715, carved in the bark. 
 
 " In that year," he said, " I fought for the royal house which now 
 I fight for. In that year I planted that white rose, the emblem of our 
 cause, beside that tree ; and now I return, after thirty years of exile, 
 and the tree still stands, and the rose still flourishes ; good omen of 
 success ! And do you wonder I love this old garden better than the 
 new one ? No ! I see you don't ; by your glistening eyes ! And now 
 I am going to carve my name and 1745 on that same old tree, whose 
 bark shall bear the record that TuUibardine was ever loyal to his king. 
 Yes ! that tree and I are older and weaker than we were when I 
 played among its branches. I am too old to climb, and it too weak to 
 bear; but still, though shaken by time, we are unchanged in nature. 
 As w^ell might that tree assume another foliage as I become a Whig. 
 As well might it desert its roots, as I desert the cause of Charles 
 Stuart." Ellen's heart swelled at the enthusiasm of the old man, who 
 began carving his memorial on the tree, while she commenced a care- 
 ful selection of the choicest neighbouring roses, as a welcome tribute 
 to the Prince, saying she was certain the flowers would be doubly 
 welcome when he heard the history of the tree from which they had 
 been gathered. 
 
 Having culled her bunch of roses, Ellen sauntered up and down the 
 old garden, waiting till TuUibardine had finished his carving on the 
 tree, that he might bear her company ; and as she approached the 
 hedge she fancied her name was spoken at the other side of it. She 
 paused and listened, and distinctly heard her name repeated, and by a 
 voice which she recognised for Kirwan's. A reply was returned, but 
 the intervention of the fence prevented her from hearing sufficiently 
 well to know who spoke, though she rather imagined it was Ned. She 
 caught the sound of Kirwan's voice again, and in a higher tone, which 
 seemed to produce a louder reply than before, at once identifying 
 Edward as the speaker. There was a peculiar tone in the conver- 
 sation, indistinct as it was, that could not be mistaken for friendliness, 
 and a suspicion flashed across Ellen's mind as to its nature, which, 
 while it made her heart tremble, also piqued her curiosity, and 
 
240 £ S, (L 
 
 approaching still closer to the hedge, she listened breathlessly for the 
 next word. 
 
 Now Ellen, though the soul of honour, and the last in the'world 
 who would wilfully play the eavesdropper, could not resist this 
 temptation. But who could blame a woman for listening under such 
 circumstances ? hearing her own name mentioned, and that in an angry 
 tone, between two persons whom she knew were her admirers, and 
 trembling for what the result might be, — perhaps a deadly quarrel, 
 which it would be her duty to prevent. She stood in a state of 
 perfect fascination, as the conversation proceeded, and the speakers 
 having drawn nearer, she could gather much of what was said. 
 Kirwan's tone was haughty and intemperate ; Edward's, though indig- 
 nant, more under restraint. She heard Kirwan calling Edward to 
 account for his over assiduous manner to herself, which Edward 
 defended as being perfectly within the limit of homage which any gen- 
 tleman may offer to a lady. This Kirwan denied, and a good deal of 
 what followed was lost ; but it seemed a hurried discussion of how far 
 attentions might go without being construed into meaning anything, 
 and Kirwan seemed to assume to himself the right of questioning any 
 approaches to Miss Lynch, an intervention which Ned did not seem 
 at all inclined to give way to. Something offensive followed, implying 
 that Edward was not entitled to look so high. This was followed by 
 an enthusiastic outbreak on Edward's part, not in assertion of his own 
 deserts, but asking Kirwan who was worthy of so " divine a creature." 
 Words ran higher every moment, and at last, in a very violent tone, 
 Kirwan called upon his rival to abandon all pretension to Miss Lynch's 
 notice, and desist from further " intrusion upon that lady." Ned 
 replied with excellent temper, that when that lady's manner made him 
 feel his attentions were intrusive, he should retire, but that he would 
 not receive dismissal from other hands. Kirwan, in still stronger 
 language, insisted on his renouncing all pretension to her society, on 
 the spot. Ned very shortly and indignantly gave a plump refusal, 
 and Ellen heard some enthusiastic expression about laying down his 
 life a thousand times for her. She then heard Kirwan say, with 
 terrible distinctness, " One of the thousand will do for me, sir — 
 draw!" 
 
 The next instant she heard the clink of swords, and uttering a 
 piercing scream, she sprang to the entrance through the fence, and 
 ran into the garden, where she beheld the two young men engaged in 
 deadly encounter, and rushed between them. At her presence they 
 dropped the points of their swords, while TuUibardine made his appear- 
 ance suddenly, startled by Ellen's cries, and following her footsteps 
 rapidly. She, pale as death, looked silently at the combatants, who 
 stood mute and abashed before her, while the old lord, with stern 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 241 
 
 dignity, reproved them for the outrage they had committed, reminding 
 them that, while the Prince honoured the castle with his presence, it 
 became a palace, within whose precincts to draw a sword was punish- 
 able with death. 
 
 ^' Surrender your swords to me, sirs," said TuUibardine. 
 
 The young men obeyed. 
 
 " You are both under arrest, sirs ; and I desire you instantly to 
 walk before me to the castle, where you shall be confined till a court- 
 martial be called." 
 
 . " My lord," said Ned, " I only beg to assure you that I was igno- 
 rant of the law it seems I have broken." 
 
 : " Then, sir, 'tis well if you do not learn an over-dear lesson," 
 answered TuUibardine, sternly. " Go before me, gentlemen," he added. 
 
 " Oh, my lord ! " exclaimed Ellen, whose heart sank at the name of 
 a court-martial, " for Heaven's sake pardon the thoughtlessness of these 
 gentlemen, who, I am sure, quite forgot the neighbourhood of the 
 Prince, and are therefore unintentional offenders." 
 
 '^ It is quite clear they did forget, Miss Lynch, and so do you seem 
 to forget what is due to your Prince, in interceding for such bold 
 offenders." 
 
 ^. Ellen had never heard the old man speak so harshly before, and 
 hung her head to conceal the tears which his reproof had caused, and 
 with a heavy heart followed him to the castle, whither he advanced, 
 marching his prisoners before him. On reaching the hall he sent 
 for two armed Highlanders, and giving directions to a servant to place 
 Kirwan and Ned within the strong rooms of the old turret, desired 
 tlie Highlanders to keep watch at the door of each chamber. 
 
 The prisoners were marched off immediately, and TuUibardine re- 
 turned to the garden, whither Ellen followed, notwithstanding the 
 rebuff she had already received, to endeavour to soften the anger of 
 the punctilious old nobleman : but she found him inexorable ; all tlie 
 arguments she urged in favour of the prisoners were in vain. Most 
 fitly she suggested the wisdom of not weakening their small force 
 by the bad example of letting a quarrel in their own little band be a 
 subject of inquiry and punishment, while there was a common enemy to 
 be fought ; — that at such a moment, unanimity among themselves was of 
 more consequence than the observance of court etiquette ; — and that the 
 probable ignorance of both, certainly of one of the party, of the nature 
 of the offence they committed, ought to be mercifully taken into consi- 
 deration. But to all these sensible observations the old courtier was 
 deaf. In his view everything was less important than the respect due 
 to royalty, and the argument advanced, of the Prince standing in need 
 of friends at the immediate moment, only made him more indignant 
 with the offenders. 
 
242 £ S. (L 
 
 " When our Prince is here," he said, " almost at the mercy of his 
 lieges to restore him to power, it more behoves us that he shall not 
 have his royal dignity despised nor abated one jot ; his very weak- 
 ness, in this case, makes his strength ; for what is wanting to him in 
 real power must be made up to him by the homage of loyal and true 
 hearts ; and though he might not, at the present moment, be able or 
 willing to assert his dignity and privileges to the fullest, it is the duty 
 of his servants to see that they be not infringed ; and in my eyes, Miss 
 Lynch, an offence against our ill-provided Prince, our royal Master's 
 alter ego, in this humble Highland dwelling, is as great an offence 
 as if committed against the potent Louis in the Tuileries." 
 
 Ellen assured him she was not insensible to the loyal spirit in which 
 he spoke ; it was only in a prudential point of view she urged him to 
 be merciful and say nothing about it ; and that if the secret lay with 
 the parties already in possession of it, there was no fear of the affair 
 reaching the Prince's ears ; " and then, my lord," said she, enforcing 
 her argument with one of her sweetest smiles, "you remember how 
 truly and beautifully the poet says, 
 
 * He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen, 
 Let him not know it, and he's not robbed at all.' " 
 
 But Ellen's smiles and quotations were in vain. She might have 
 smiled her life out, and exhausted a whole library without moving 
 Tullibardine. He returned a stern look in exchange for Ellen's smile, 
 and said, 
 
 " Miss Lynch, the poet there speaks of a purse ; and would you 
 place money on a level with the dignity of the crown ?" 
 
 " At least, my dear sir," answered Ellen, still trying to force him 
 out of his severity by playfulness, " you will acknowledge they are 
 both gold." 
 
 " Or silver," Miss Lynch, returned my lord, with chilling severity, 
 " as the case may be. Miss Lynch, the subject is not one to treat with 
 levity, and in one devoted to your King, as I know you are, I am sur- 
 prised to observe the temper in which you discuss this subject. An 
 offence punishable with death — death. Miss Lynch, is committed in 
 my garden, and I am not to see the offender punished, forsooth, be- 
 cause you can quote poetry !" 
 
 " This is unjust, my lord. In devotion to my king I will yield to 
 no one, and I only appealed to your prudence and mercy to induce you 
 to overlook what is, after all, but a breach of etiquette, too heavily 
 punishable to mal^e it Christian-like to prosecute." 
 
 " Ho, ho !" exclaimed Tullibardine, getting very angry. *• So, 
 Mademoiselle, you first spout poetry and then preach Christianity to 
 me, to make me forget the honour of my Prince ; but you shall learn. 
 
TREASURE TROVE 243 
 
 Mademoiselle, that old men are not to be moved from their duty by 
 love-sick young ladies." 
 
 Ellen felt the phrase " love-sick " severely, and replied with spirit 
 to Tullibardine : " My lord, since you so mistake my motives, I shall 
 take my leave ;" and, making a low curtsey, retired with dignity ; but 
 when she was sheltered from the stern old man's view, tears sprang to 
 her eyes, and she cried with pure vexation that the state of her heart 
 should be suspected. 
 
 Of this, I believe, a woman is more jealous than a miser of his gold. 
 
 r2 
 
244 ^ S. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 The parting words of the old lord presented to Ellen a new aspect 
 of the affairs of the morning. Hitherto her views and motives 
 regarded the interests of others : now they assumed a selfish form — a 
 rare occurrence with her. The sternness of TuUibardine's manner 
 left no doubt on her mind that he would bring the offenders to punish- 
 ment, and the stinging phrase "love-sick" conjured up a host of 
 hateful imaginings as to the facts that would come out in the course 
 of the examination. The cause of quarrel would naturally become a 
 matter of question, and therefore her name would inevitably be 
 mixed up in the transaction, and in a way of all others most grievous 
 to a lady ; for where is the woman of right feeling who would 
 not shudder at being supposed the cause of a duel ? Such were her 
 thoughts as she wended her way to tlie castle, and sought her chamber ; 
 her pretty notion of presenting the verses to the Prince being 
 abandoned in the serious considerations of the hour. She began to 
 hope that perhaps neither of the gentlemen engaged would confess 
 what was the cause of their quarrel, but that hope was abandoned in the 
 speedily-following belief, that on so serious a matter they must waive 
 all delicacy, and answer every question asked. Nay, as she was 
 present, perhaps slie herself might be called on to declare all she 
 knew about the matter, and then, " what would become of her ?" To 
 stand the gaze of a court of inquiry, and be forced by her own word 
 of mouth to declare how important a share she had in the transaction 
 — it was too dreadful, and she wrung her hands in very bitterness of 
 grief, pacing up and down the chamber, exclaiming in an under breath, 
 *'What is to be done!" Poor Ellen! she was in sad perturbation, 
 and was long undecided what steps to pursue:— whether to let things 
 take their course, or speak to her father, and telling him all she 
 knew about it, seek his counsel. Yes — she rvould tell her fiither, and 
 her hand was on the lock of the door to open it, and go forth to seek 
 him, when the project was abandoned on second thoughts. 
 
 She had serious objection to speak to Lynch on the subject, for 
 she dreaded his blame. He had made it sufficiently intelligible to 
 Ellen, that a union with Kirwan would please him, and he might, 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 245 
 
 perchance, say, that had she thought more of his wishes, and accepted 
 one so worthy in every way, this could not have occurred. Then 
 again, the quarrel implied that the advances of some one else must 
 have been sufficiently apparent to arouse the anger of her former 
 suitor, and therefore there must be a long talk about love affairs, 
 which to Ellen Lynch was the most hateful thing in the world, and 
 that determined her to say nothing to her father. Such a dislike 
 ever belongs to minds of refinement and imagination. Those of 
 grosser clay may discourse in common of such engagements, and see 
 nothing more in treating of them than of others. To love, (if ever 
 they do— and to marry, which they do if they can,) is nothing more 
 in their eyes than a worldly concern, which they would as soon 
 discuss as any other matter ; but to a sensitive nature there is some- 
 thing beyond earthliness in all that belongs to love. It is held too 
 sacred a thing to be the common talk of the world — too precious to be 
 approached by every body — the very hoard of the heart, guarded with 
 a miser's care, and bolts and bars are put upon it that none may pass 
 but the one who is lawful partner in it. So strongly does this 
 feeling imbue sensitive natures, that they have a repugnance even 
 to the imputation of a love which they bear not. Its very name 
 touches such chords in their souls, which the finger of the jester 
 may not approach. It is then — 
 
 " Like sweet bells jangled out of tune." 
 
 To produce harmony, one chosen hand alone can wake it, and then 
 it doth 
 
 " Discourse most eloquent music." 
 
 When Ellen had abandoned the thought of speaking to her father, 
 she next entertained the idea of seeking the Prince, and interceding 
 for the prisoners at his feet ; but here again she dreaded her motive 
 might be questioned, and shrank from the attempt. What, then, was 
 to be done ? She saw nothing could free her from her embarrassment 
 but the liberation and flight of the prisoners ; and this idea took final 
 and firm possession of her mind, and towards its achievement all the 
 resources of her invention were called into action. 
 
 To reconnoitre the turret where they were confined was her first 
 object, and this she undertook on the instant. She thought it likely 
 the prisoners would be looking towards the window, if window there 
 was in their place of durance ; and she had not the least doubt that if 
 she made her appearance before them, the gentlemen would not be 
 unlikely to approach the casement to look at her. She put her scheme 
 in practice, and it answered admirably ; both her admirers rushed to 
 the windows, as she paced the grass plat in its vicinity, and she was 
 
246 £ s, d. 
 
 glad to find that those casements lay on different angles of the 
 turret, so that communications might be held with one without being 
 under the observation of the other. Satisfied of this fact, she sum- 
 moned Phaidrig to her presence, determining to make him her 
 confident, and seek strength in his advice. 
 
 All the objections she entertained to speak to others on the subject 
 vanished as regarded Phaidrig; he was an attached adherent of her 
 family, loved her to devotion, and, as an inferior, would feel the con- 
 fidence reposed in him an honour, binding him to respect and silence, 
 which an equal might not observe. 
 
 " Phaidrig," said Ellen, as he entered her presence, " I have sent 
 for you to have a confidential word with you about something." 
 
 " Oh yis. Miss, — I guessed you'd be throubled about it." 
 
 " You know, then, what I allude to?" 
 
 " To be sure I do," said Phaidrig, who wished, with that delicate 
 address belonging to the Irish people, to spare her the awkwardness 
 of opening the subject, therefore dashed into it himself; his natural 
 perception leading him at once to the right conclusion as to what 
 that subject was: — "you mane the scrimage in the garden, this 
 morning?" 
 
 " Yes, Phaidrig." 
 
 " I thought so. Indeed it is a crooked turn the thing has taken, 
 Miss Ellen." 
 
 " 'Tis most painful, Phaidi-ig." 
 
 " Sure, then, it's a quare counthry," said the piper, " where they 
 wouldn't let gentlemen have their quarrel out their own way." 
 
 " 'Tis not for their quarrelling, Phaidrig, — it is for drawing their 
 swords so near the presence of the king." 
 
 " Musha then, but the ways o'the world is quare! Here's half 
 the swoords in Scotland goin' to be dhrawn in the king's cause, and 
 out o' them all you mustn't dhraw one in your own." 
 
 " Not just thaty Phaidrig : it is drawing the sword within the 
 forbidden limit, is the offence — so near the king's presence, you 
 understand." 
 
 " Arrah, Miss Ellen, you have too much seme not to see that is non- 
 sense. Sure you may flourish your swoord undher a king's nose, so 
 near that you've a chance of cuttin' it off, as long as it's in a battle— 
 and you're a hero for that. But if you are some perches out of his 
 sight, and stone walls betune you and liira, you must keep your blade 
 in good behaviour. Isn't that rank nonsense, Miss Ellen ?" 
 " You must remember the respect due to the prince, Phaidrig." 
 " Faix the man who wouldn't respect himself first, and back his 
 own quarrel, would have but little respect for a prince, or be little likely 
 to stand up for his cause. But, to come back to the story, as I said 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 247 
 
 afore — it's a crooked turn, and how can we make it sthraiter ? — for that's 
 the matther." 
 
 " Could we not help them to escape from confinement?" 
 " I dar say," said Phaidrig, " with a little head-work. But is 
 the danger so great as to require it ? " 
 " The offence is punishable with death." 
 
 " Death !— oh murther !— Tut, tut, Miss Ellen, they wouldn't kill 
 them for that — don't think it." 
 
 " The old lord is desperate about it." 
 
 " Yes— I dar say — he's a bitther owld pill. But the prince himself, 
 Miss, wouldn't hear of it ? he'd just maybe give them a reprimand 
 when he made an inquiry into the thing — and — " 
 
 " That," interrupted Ellen, " is the thing of all others I wish to 
 avoid — inquiry. I would not, for the world, have the cause of this 
 quarrel made a talk of. You are an old, an attached follower, Phaidrig 
 — faithful and kind ; and I don't hesitate to tell 9/021, that — " But she 
 did hesitate. " In short," she continued, " to be candid with you — 
 I mean that sometimes gentlemen will — will — " 
 '' Will fight about a lady," said Phaidrig, slily. 
 The words called a blush to Ellen's cheek, but its pain was spared 
 by the blindness of her companion. " You are right, Phaidrig," 
 she said ; " but though ijou know that, I would not wish the world to 
 know it." 
 
 " Faix then they'll make a sharp guess at it. Miss." 
 " Do you think so ? " 
 " Sartinly." 
 
 " Why, gentlemen may fight about many things." 
 " Yes, Miss Ellen, after dinner. When the wine is in and the wit is 
 out, a hot word will sometime breed a quarrel ; but when gentlemen, 
 in the cool o' the morning, go seriously to work, it's mostly a lady is 
 at the bottom of it." 
 
 " Do you know, then, the people here are aware of the cause of the 
 duel this morning ? " 
 
 " No — I don't know it — but I suppose they are not fools, and have 
 their eyes and ears as well as other people ; so, as far as that goes, take 
 no throuble about it, for I'll go bail they are up to it." 
 
 " Well, let them ! " said Ellen, pettishly. " Let them suspect what 
 they like, so long as there is no examination — no words about it ! " 
 
 " Ah !— there it is !" said Phaidrig, " that's the way o' the world 
 all over. It's not the thing we care so much for, as the thing being 
 talked of. But why would you care, Miss Nelly, alanna; sure 
 Avhat's the shame of your being beloved by two brave gentlemen? — for 
 indeed they are brave. The one loves the flowers you tread on, and 
 the other the ground they grow out of ; the one is an old friend, the 
 
218 £ S. (L 
 
 growth of family connexion ; the other a newer one, turned up by 
 chance in an hour of trial— and well he behaved in it, and since that 
 same, I hear, was near you in trouble again. Kierawaun is good 
 owld Galway. blood, and Fitzjarl is a good name, no denying it, 
 though he may not know just the branch he belongs to— but I'd be 
 book-sworn the good dhrop is in him, for he gives his money, and 
 keeps his word, like a gentleman ; Misther Kierawaun will have a 
 purty little estate one o' these days, and Misther Fitzjarl has a 
 rich uncle at his back ; throth, I couldn't make a pin's choice between 
 them ; it's only yourself could do it. Miss Nelly ; and indeed I would, 
 if I was you, and settle the dispute out of hand." 
 
 " Ah, as cunning as you are, Phaidrig," said Ellen, laughing, 
 (for confidences with inferiors in rank are made easier by mirth,) — 
 " cunning as you think yourself, you shan't find me out. Besides, my 
 good Phaidrig, remember these are not times for wedding — the king's 
 cause before ours." 
 
 ^^ Lamia machreer'' said Phaidrig, tenderly, "the cause of Nature 
 is before the cause of kings, — there is no jewel in a king's crown worth 
 the pure love of a pure heart." 
 
 Ellen was touched with the truth of the saying, but still, trying to 
 laugh, told Phaidrig he was getting poetical. 
 
 " Miss Ellen, I can't help it, sometimes. Sure, when the truth is 
 strong in us it will come up, like a spring, bright and bursting, and 
 fiow out of us, whether we will or no." 
 
 " Well, Phaidrig, all the poetry in the world won't get our friends 
 out of their confinement — we must consider how that is to be done." 
 
 " Then you are still for their escape ?" 
 
 "I would prefer it." 
 
 " Then your will is my pleasure, Miss, and I'll do all I can for 
 
 you." 
 
 Ellen told the piper how the prisoners were situated ; upon which 
 he said a rope was all they wanted for their purpose, by which the 
 prisoners could lower themselves from their windows. 
 
 Ellen questioned the danger of such a mode of descent from such 
 a height. 
 
 '• Tut !" exclaimed Phaidrig, " you forget Misther Fitzjarl is used 
 to the sea, and a rope is as good as a fiiglit o' stairs to him." 
 
 " True," said Ellen, quite satisfied with the remark, and made no 
 further observation. But this incident, slight as it was, furnished 
 the acuteness of the blind man with a clue to her feelings. 
 
 To give notice to the prisoners of the intended efforts in their 
 favour was the next object, and this, Phaidi-ig promised to effect by means 
 of his pipes. Led by Ellen to the part of the turret which fortunately 
 for them lay at a remote angle of the building, she desired the piper to 
 
QTY^JY 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 240 
 
 play tlic " Cuckoo's Nest," as that she knew would attract Edward's 
 attention. Phaidrig wanted to know why that air would produce 
 that eftect, to which Ellen replied, that much as he knew, he must be 
 content not to be in all her secrets, and cunning as he was, she defied 
 him to find that out. The fact was, the " Cuckoo's Nest " was the 
 melody to which Ned had sung his song at Glenfinnin, and the moment 
 Phaidrig played it, Ned appeared at the window. What was his 
 delight to see Ellen wave her hand to him, and point to Phaidrig's 
 pipes, as much as to say, " observe what he plays." She waited no 
 longer than to tell Phaidrig Ned was listening, but her momentary 
 presence was enough to enchant the captive. The signal she had 
 chosen to give him, too, was the air of the song he had sung to her, 
 and his heart beat with transport. Phaidrig next played " The 
 Twisting of the Rope ;" next in succession, " Hie Foggy Dew,^ and 
 then " Yourself along with Jie," after which he retired. 
 
 This language of music Ned thus translated — " by the assistance of 
 a rope he was to effect his escape in the evening when Phaidrig 
 should call him." He was watchful now for every passing circum- 
 stance ; no light or sound escaped him, as he held careful watch at 
 the window. It was some hours, however, before any thing worthy 
 of observation occurred ; but then he saw he had rightly read 
 Phaidrig's warning, for a rope was lowered opposite his window, and 
 he lost not a moment in drawing it rapidly into his room. He coiled 
 it up, sailor fashion, and was looking about the chamber, which was 
 very bare of furniture, to see where he might stow it away to escape 
 observation in case his room might be visited, when he heard a foot 
 outside the door, and the key turned in the lock. 
 
2r>o £ s» d. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 How the rope was lowered to Ned, lest it might be a mystery to 
 the reader, or supposed to be the work of some " sweet little cherub " 
 that was "sitting aloft" on the roof of the castle, we shall explain ; 
 for all supernatural agencies we beg to disclaim in this our truest of 
 histories, which treats but of human affairs throughout. Phaidrig 
 having promised to supply the rope " somehow or other," Ellen care- 
 fully reconnoitred the turret, and found, by reckoning its battlements, 
 exactly the points where the windows lay ; and as she had ascended 
 that very turret the day before, in company with Tullibardine, who 
 wished to show her a fine view from the platform on its top, there was 
 no difficulty in her ascending the tower again for the same supposed 
 reason, and under the folds of a cloak it was easy to conceal the coil 
 of rope, and thus, without the slightest suspicion attaching to her act, 
 she was enabled to supply the necessary means of flight to her captive 
 friend, though it must be confessed fortune presented an embarrassment 
 iii the time of its arrival which was most inopportune. 
 
 In a castle under regular "watch and ward," all these plottings 
 and schemes of deliverance would not have been so easy of design 
 and execution; but, with the irregular nature of the armed forces 
 about it, it was no such difficult matter. The superiors in command 
 were engaged in council most of the day contriving their campaign ; 
 and as for the Highlanders, they were straggling idly about the hills, or 
 enjoying the rest the halt afforded, or cooking their dinners, or, in 
 short, doing any thing but taking care of the castle ; which, after all, 
 there was no necessity for guarding, save for the two prisoners, who 
 were too unimportant to excite a care ; for the Prince was in the 
 midst of devoted followers, no enemy was within scores of miles, 
 and why should the Highlanders "fash" themselves about regular 
 military order ? 
 
 Ellen had kept close to her chamber all day, save at such times as 
 she stole abroad in furtherance of her own peculiar plans. This she 
 did to avoid the chance of encountering any question or being engaged 
 in any conversation on the business of the morning, and it was not 
 until late in the day she had a visit from her father, whose services had 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 251 
 
 been in constant requisition for some previous hours in the council. 
 She feared he would make some mention of the morning adventure, 
 but in this she happily deceived herself. Lynch was equally annoyed 
 at the circumstance as his daughter, and knowing besides how painful 
 it would be to her, abstained from any allusion to the subject. It had 
 already given him sufficient pain ; he had endeavoured to dissuade 
 Tullibardine from following the matter up in the spirit of indignation 
 which, he first evinced on the subject, but in vain. The old punc- 
 tilious courtier was resolute on punishment, therefore Lynch dropped 
 the subject as soon as he could, with him, and depended on the 
 graciousness of the Prince for a more sensible and merciful termi- 
 nation of the business. After a brief visit. Lynch left Ellen to 
 the solitude of her chamber, while he went to join the feast in the 
 hall. 
 
252 £ 5. d. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. , . 
 
 In the meantime how fared it with Ned in his prison-chamber ? We 
 left him rather in a dilemma. Fortune is a capricious sort of dame, 
 often behaving like the ill-natured cow, who when she has given 
 plenty of milk, kicks down the pail, and Ned trembled for the fate of 
 his rope which the slippery lady had sent him. By " slippery lady," 
 we by no means intend Ellen. Heaven forfend we should give so 
 ungracious a title to a heroine. Oh no ! — we mean to indicate Fortune 
 by that epithet, and as no one has ever accused her of being over 
 steady, our conscience is free from reproach ; we have not been the 
 first to take away her character, and w^e call her slippery without 
 remorse ; whereas a young lady to be so, particularly when she was on 
 the roof of a house, where a slip would be a serious matter, would 
 endanger not only her good name but her neck. 
 
 But to return to Ned and his rope. When he heard the key turned in 
 the door, and he standing with the aforesaid rope in his hand, whereon 
 depended his hopes of liberty, he thought all was lost; but, as in 
 desperate emergencies, thought, stimulated by the spur of necessity or 
 danger, sometimes suggests a sudden measure of escape, so, on the 
 present occasion she stood Ned's friend. In an instant he laid down the 
 coil of rope close to the hinged side of the door, which, on being opened, 
 screened the object it was so important to hide, thus making the means 
 of discovery also the means of concealment. A servant entered, bearing 
 some refreshment, which having deposited on a little rickety table, 
 the only one in the room, he asked, civilly, if there was any thing 
 else Ned required; and Ned, only wanting his absence, got rid of him 
 as fast as he could, and the door being once again closed, and the 
 rope safe, it was crammed immediately up the chimney, until its 
 services should be required at the time of '' the foggy dew." 
 
 That long-wished-for hour at length arrived, and when the 
 evening shades began to gather on the hills, and the revel without 
 and within the castle had unfitted all for guardianship, Ellen and 
 Phaidrig stole forth, and at the turret's base gave the pipe-signal. 
 Ellen watched the window anxiously, which soon was opened, — 
 she perceived Edward emerging from the casement and prepare 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 253 
 
 to descend — she trembled with anxiety as she looked at the fearful 
 height, and was forced to lean on Phaidrig for support. It was 
 too dusky to distinguish the rope, and when Edward's hand let go 
 the window-sill where he had steadied his weight before he com- 
 mitted himself to the rope, to avoid oscillation as much as possible, and 
 that Ellen saw him swinging in middle air, she shut her eyes and held 
 them closed, until Edward's voice close beside her assured her of his 
 safety. 
 
 " Dear Miss Lynch !" he said, " how shall I thank you for this kind 
 interest in my fortunes ? " 
 
 " I do not forget," said Ellen, "how much I owe to you. On the 
 score of obligation I am still in your debt." 
 
 " No, no ! " returned Edward, " the pleasure of serving you is 
 sufficient reward for the service ; — but this present escape of mine 
 — to what is it to lead ? " 
 
 " To freedom, of course," said Ellen. '^ You must fly this place 
 immediately, and escape the consequences of this morning's rashness." 
 
 " To me it seems," returned Ned, "that to break my arrest is a 
 greater offence than the one for which I was confined, I have no 
 desire . to fly from trial ; — but perhaps my kind friend Phaidrig here 
 can explain the matter ? " 
 
 " Not a bit," said Phaidrig ; " it's all her own ordhering, and so let 
 her explain it herself. Just walk off a bit there with the young 
 raisthiss, Masther Ned, out of my hearing, and you can say what you 
 like to each other." 
 
 The obvious hint in the piper's speech did not escape Ned, who lost 
 not an instant in seizing Ellen's hand and pressing it tenderly, at the 
 same moment leading her away ; but she resisted gently, and said, 
 in a flurried manner, to Phaidrig, that she had no secrets to com- 
 municate. 
 
 " Tut, tut, tut. Miss Nelly, don't vex me," exclaimed Phaidrig ; 
 " go off there, and talk your little talk together, or by this and that 
 I'll make a screech on the pipes that will bring the whole castle about 
 your ears, I will !" 
 
 " Phaidrig ?" exclaimed Ellen, in a tone expressive of wonder, and 
 implying command. 
 
 " I'm in airnest. Miss Nelly, and you know I'm wicked when I'm 
 in airnest. Go off and talk, I tell you." 
 
 " You surprise me, Phaidrig." 
 
 " Faix then I'll astonish you if you don't go." Filling the air-bag of 
 his pipes with some rapid strokes of the bellows as he spoke, he laid 
 his hand on the chanter, and raised it in menace. " Be off. Miss Nelly, 
 you little stubborn thing, or I'll blow — I will, by St. Patrick !". 
 
 Ned, adding his entreaties to Phaidrig's menaces, and enforcing l)is 
 
254 <£ 5. cL 
 
 request by drawing Ellen's arm within his own and pressing it gently 
 to his heart, whispered low in her ear, " Pray come." 
 
 He then led her, unresistingly and in silence, some twenty paces 
 apart. Both their hearts were beating rapidly, for Phaidrig's words 
 had prepared Ned to speak and Ellen to hear what neither had con- 
 templated in this meeting. 
 
 Edward was the first to find his tongue ; he prayed her to tell hira 
 her reasons for wishing his flight. 
 
 She answered her fears for his safety, and assured him Lord Tulli- 
 bardine was bent on the extreme punishment. 
 
 " Fear not for my life," said Ned ; " even if the severe discipline of 
 the old lord urged him to the uttermost, the affair must ultimately 
 rest at the Prince's option, and I will never believe he would, under 
 present circumstances, permit matters to be carried to extremity ; and 
 I am so blameless in the occurrence of this morning, that I have no 
 dread of standing my trial for it." 
 
 " No, no ! — No trial," said Ellen, " for my sake, no trial !" 
 
 " I see, by your objection, you know the cause of the quarrel, and 
 can feel your motives for suppressing all question about it ; but let 
 me assure you, I am guiltless of involving a lady's name so un- 
 pleasantly." 
 
 " I believe you," said Ellen. 
 
 " I was called upon at the sword's point to renounce all claim to 
 you — you, who are all my hope in this world. Yes, Miss Lynch, 
 yes ; let me once for all avow, that without you, this life is valueless, 
 and I am careless how soon I lose it, unless it may be dedicated to 
 your service — service is a cold word — Oh, Ellen ! you are my worship, 
 my adoration !" 
 
 It was the first time he had ever called her Ellen, and he was 
 startled at the sound himself. " Pardon me," he exclaimed, " for the 
 liberty my tongue has taken with your sweet name !" 
 
 " Oh, don't talk of ceremony with me," said Ellen. " So tried a 
 friend as you is more than deserving of so small a familiarity." 
 
 " Bless you!" exclaimed Ned, venturing to raise her hand to his lips, 
 and imprinting on it a devoted kiss. 
 
 Ellen withdrew her hand suddenly. 
 
 "Be not offended, Ellen. This night must make me hope or 
 despair for the future. In the first place, let me tell you, your 
 father is aware of my love for you." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes. On leaving Nantes, my uncle avowed it to him, and offered 
 to make all his fortune ours if he would consent to our union. Your 
 father did not refuse — ^lie only made me promise not to address you as 
 a lover until this expedition was over, and candidly avowed he had 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 255 
 
 intended another union for you. — I guessed it was Mister Kirwan. 
 Think then with what heavy heart I saw you leave France in his 
 company — led to the boat hy his very hand — his companion on board 
 the same ship. Think what bitterness was added to defeat, when, after 
 the furious action we had sustained, my ship was driven back, while 
 Ms proceeded in safety, bearing off all I prized in the world, giving 
 to my rival the advantage of such fearful odds, that the chance was he 
 should rob me of that treasure for whose sake I had engaged in 
 the desperate fortunes of Prince Charles. Oh! did you but know 
 the risks, and trials, and difficulties, I encountered to get back from 
 France to England ; — the additional dangers that beset me there in 
 holding communication with the disaffected in the midst of jealous 
 and watchful guardians of the law. Did you but know the obstacles 
 which had to be overcome in following here with speed — the sleepless 
 nights I gave to travelling, that I might once more be near you. 
 Oh! when I tell you all this, — done for your sake, — and that you 
 remember I kept my promise to your father, and did not plead my love, 
 you must give me credit for forbearance. But now forbearance were 
 folly. The time absolves me — I may — I must speak, and I ask you 
 at once to be mine ! — Yes, adored one, if I am to fly, be you the 
 partner of my flight ; my uncle will receive us with open arms — 
 fortune is before us — leave these scenes of danger and coming war, 
 for peace, and security, and love ! " 
 
 " Your ardour hurries you strangely away," said Ellen, laughing ; 
 ''you must think women made of very yielding materials, to suppose 
 that the moment a man names marriage, they are ready to jump into 
 his proposal, and a postchaise at the same time. Oh, Mister Fitz- 
 gerald ! Is that your opinion of the sex ? — those divinities you so 
 much adore !" 
 
 Ned felt very foolish at this sudden parry of Ellen, which left him 
 open to her ridicule, and even through the gloom he could perceive 
 the mirthful malice which twinkled in her eye, as she thus suddenly 
 cut him off in his heroics. 
 
 Ned was all penitence in a moment for his presumption ; begged 
 her to consider the urgent circumstances which betrayed him ; prayed 
 her not to laugh at his folly; protested that no one could have a higher 
 opinion of the sex, but as for their being all divinities, he vowed he 
 never said any such thing, and swore she herself was the only divinity 
 of them all. 
 
 "Of course!" said Ellen, "of course!" laughing heartily, while 
 poor Ned stamped with downright vexation, and prayed her not to 
 laugh at him. 
 
 " One comfort the poor women have," added Ellen, " is, that each 
 one is a divinity to somebody, for a little while, at all events. 
 
266 A s. d, 
 
 Grecian, Roman, and Snub, have their various worshippers. But 
 
 now, to be serious, and return to the business of the night jom 
 
 must fly." 
 
 " Suppose I cannot reconcile it to my sense of duty," said Ned. 
 
 *' Or suppose that you refuse me so small a request," returned 
 Ellen, reproachfully — 
 
 "No, no!" exclaimed Edward, passionately, "I can refuse you 
 nothing ; — for your sake I would—" 
 
 " Well, then," said Ellen, with peculiar sweetness, " for 7ny sake." 
 
 There was an expression in that one little word " my," which went 
 to Ned's very heart, and dropped balm there ; it had that peenliar 
 eloquence especially belonging to women, which may be called the 
 eloquence of tone, in which they are so excelling, that the ear must 
 be dull indeed which cannot interpret the melodious meaning. 
 
 " You will go now," continued Ellen, " now that I desire it." 
 
 " To do your bidding in all things is the dearest pleasure of my 
 life," said Ned ; " your first bidding I will obey, but before I go, let 
 your second bidding be, to bid me hope." 
 
 *' Have you no cause, then, to hope already ?" said Ellen, with 
 mingled sweetness and reproachfulness. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I have indeed !" said Ned ; " but pardon, if, before 
 I leave you, I would wish to hear " 
 
 Ere he could finish the sentence, the alarum bell of the castle rang 
 out fiercely, startling the soft silence through which their own 
 M'hispers were audible, and Ellen, uttering a faint cry of terror, ex- 
 claimed they were discovered, and besought Edward to instant flight. 
 
 " Say you love me, then !" he cried, " before I go." 
 
 The sudden alarm, added to her previous excitement, had so over- 
 come Ellen, that, breathing a faint sigh, she sank into Edward's arms. 
 He pressed her to his heart, and kissed her, but found she was quite 
 insensible — she had fainted. He bore her hastily in his arms to 
 where Phaidrig had been left waiting, and, followed by the piper, 
 sought, for the present, a shelter from discovery in one of the shadiest 
 spots of the garden, while the alarum bell still kept up its discordant 
 clangor, calling the inmates of the castle to be " up and doing." — It 
 was a sound to make the hearts of fugitives tremble. 
 
TRRASURE TROVE. 25: 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Ellen, on recovering her consciousness, found herself lying on a 
 grassy slope, her head resting on Phaidrig's lap, and Edward kneeling 
 beside her, bathing her temples — a handkerchief swept across the dewy 
 grass supplying the cooling drops. The alarum bell was still ringing, 
 and instantly recalled her to a sense of passing events. 
 
 " You still here ? " she exclaimed, clasping Edward's hand ; " for 
 heaven's sake fly ! " 
 
 " Let me see you quite i*ecovered first," he answered, 
 
 " I am, now," she said, springing to her feet with surprising energy 
 — " fly, I beseech you ! " 
 
 " Do, masther Ned," said Phaidrig, " I will take care of Miss 
 Nelly." 
 
 " Will you not say, then, before I go," said Edward, in a lower 
 tone to Ellen — 
 
 " Hush ! " she said, enforcing her word by laying her hand on 
 Edward's breast, and unwilling he shoidd pursue his question within 
 the hearing of a third person. 
 
 " I know the question you would ask, and to save time, now so 
 precious, will answer it without your speaking further. I say yes — 
 Ido—lwillf' 
 
 " Bless you ! " cried Edward, raising her hand unresistingly to his 
 lips. 
 
 " Go now ! " she said, " I tremble for your safety ! — and see, what 
 light is that flickering about the castle ? — they have lit torches, and 
 are coming to search the garden, perhaps. — Fly, fly !" 
 
 " Farewell, thenl" said Edward, relinquishing her hand, "we must 
 trust to chance for our next meeting." 
 
 " You shall hear of us soon," said Phaidrig, " we are to march 
 to Perth to-morrow, and on the main bridge of that town you'll find 
 me at night-fall ;— off with you, now !" 
 
 Edward obeyed ; and as he passed by the old hedge, and recognised 
 the scene of his encounter in the morning. So far from regretting it, 
 he blessed the incident whose consequences had revealed to him the 
 precious secret that to him was worth all the world. He cleared the 
 
 s 
 
258 £ S. d. 
 
 fence at one bound, and commenced his night-march to the southward 
 cheerily. Nor staff, nor scrip, nor guide, had he; but love supplied 
 the place of all. He faltered not — ^lie hungered not — he found his path 
 with readiness : for he was loved. This delicious consciousness gave 
 him a might, unknown before, to conquer all difficulties, to live 
 through all dangers, for the sake of the bright reward before him : for 
 now he knew that Ellen should one day be his own. ■ r .,, : 
 
 All through that live-long night did Edward pursue his joutney; 
 It was long and toilsome ; and when the next day he reached the 
 town of Perth, he gladly entered the first inn which presented itself, 
 and sought the rest and refreshment he so much needed. The table 
 was soon spread with substantial viands, and Ned, after his long fast, 
 fell to with a hearty will, that did ample j ustice to the good things of 
 ** mine host." While thus engaged, he had a word now and then with 
 the bare-footed " hizzie," who was running in and out of the room 
 ever and anon, and he found the fame of " Bonnie Prince Charlie's" 
 gathering had gone abroad — that the government authorities were 
 already alarmed at his approach — while the people, if he might judge 
 from the eye of the attendant girl, were ready to receive him with 
 open arms, though her Scotch prudence kept her tongue under proper ^ 
 control; and her expressions were, at the most, but ambiguous, 
 though sufficient to satisfy Ned that he had not fallen into the enemy's 
 camp ; so, having despatched his hearty meal, he thought the best 
 thing he could do was to keep quiet within his hostel until his friends 
 should arrive ; and as the quietest place therein was bed, and the wel- 
 comest also, Ned desired to be accommodated with a sleeping -room, 
 and leaving orders to be called in the evening, gave himself up to the 
 luxury of a sound sleep. 
 
 He was, therefore, quite refreshed by sunset, when a hearty shake 
 from the " hizzie" warned him it was time to rise. II., 
 
 His waking glance met the broad grin of the lass, who told him, 
 with evident glee, that the Prince, and his Highland forces, were in 
 the town, and that she thought the folk were " a' gane clean wud 
 wi' joy !" 
 
 If in the morning it behoved Ned to keep out of sight of the Prince's 
 enemies, in the evening it was equally necessary not to be recognised 
 by his friends ; therefore, he waited till darkness rendered his appear- 
 ance in the streets less dangerous, and, inquiring his way to the main 
 bridge, he hastened to seek Phaidrig. 
 
 The faithful piper, true to his appointment, was abeady there, and 
 met Ned with hearty welcome, desiring a boy, who had been his 
 guide, to remain on the bridge till he returned. He took Ned's arm, 
 and retiring to a less frequented place, told him how all fared at th<»r 
 castle since he had left it. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 259 
 
 ** After ali," said Phaidrig, " tlie alarm wasn't about your escape 
 at all, but some sheds, nigh liand the castle, wor set a-fire by some o' 
 them drunken thieves o' Highlanders, in their wild faisting and divil- 
 ment, and a purty bonfire they made, in throth. And, as it happens, 
 it would have been betther if you had staid where you wor, for the 
 young misthiss, you see — 
 
 " I hope no unpleasant consequence has ensued to her," interrupted 
 Ned. 
 
 *' Aisy, aisy," said Phaidrig, " how you fly off at the sound of her 
 name, agra ; I was only going to tell you that the young misthiss was 
 out in her guess about the throuble you wor in; and your life wasn't in 
 danger all the time, as big and bowld as the ould lord talked about it." 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Ned, in delight; "then I need not fly— • 
 I may still remain near her." 
 
 " Ow ! ow ! " cried Phaidrig, " not so fast, masther Ned ; don't 
 hurry me, and you'll hear all in good time. You Ece, the Prince 
 wouldn't hear at all, at all, about two gentlemen being killed on his 
 account, and so he towld the masther — captain Lynch, I mane ; but 
 the owld lord was in such a fume and a flusther, that he was let to 
 plaze himself with the bit of imprisonment, and all that ; and it was 
 not until the next mornin' that the Prince sends for him, and tells him 
 he makes a particular requ<^ct of him to say no more about it, and just 
 to be contint with the confinement of the gentlemen, and a bit of a 
 reprimand. So, when old TuUy-bo goes to let them out, you may 
 suppose, masther Ned, one o' them was missin ; and I lave you to' 
 guess who that was ; and, my jewel, cart-ropes wouldn't howld owld 
 TuUy-bully, he was in such a rage at his arrest being held in contempt, 
 and the prison broke ! — and off he goes to his highness, and says, that 
 as he bowed to the Prince's pleasure in allowing such offenders to get 
 off so easy, he hopes the Prince will stand by him, in turn, and not see 
 an owld and faithful servant so abused and held in contimpt, as for a 
 prisoner to da7' for to go out of his power ; and so, the end of it was, 
 to patch up the owld fool's honour, it was agreed, that if misther 
 Kierawaun was to be pardoned, misther Fitzjarl must be punished if 
 ever he is cotch for breaking his arrest ; and there it is just for you, 
 the length and the breadth of it." 
 
 " How unfortunate ! " said Ned. 
 
 " Thrue for you ! " said Phaidrig, " you know I always remarked 
 you had a great knack for gettin' into throuble." 
 
 " So, all Miss Lynch's care for me has only exiled me from her 
 presence ! " 
 
 " Just what she says herself," said Phaidrig — " throth, she's in sore 
 throuble, and blames herself for not having spoken to her father about 
 it, for he was in the Prince's confidence all the time, and could have 
 
 s 2 
 
260 £ 6'. d. 
 
 towld her how 'twould be ; and she is angry with herself for her 
 breach of confidence to the father, and thinks this is a sort of punish- 
 ment on her for it." 
 
 "Poor dear young lady!" exclaimed Ned ; "and is the captain 
 conscious of her share in this adventure ? " 
 
 " Not a word has passed about it, but the masther is too cute not 
 to see how it is." 
 
 " And do you think he is angry ? " 
 
 " Not a bit. — Of the two, I think he's rather plazed." 
 
 "Why?" said Ned. 
 
 " Because it puts you out o' the way, and laves the field open — " 
 
 " To Kirwan ! " interrupted Ned, anxiously. " True ; true ; he 
 will be near her." 
 
 " The divil a much good that will do him, I think," said Phaidrig. 
 
 "Do you think so, my kind, good Phaidrig?" exclaimed Ned, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " To be sure I think so. Don't you think so yourself ?" 
 
 " Oh, Phaidrig, to be absent, and know that a rival is near the 
 woman you adore." 
 
 " But if you know the woman cares more for you than him," said 
 Phaidrig. 
 
 " May not his presence enable him to turn the scale ? " answered 
 Ned. 
 
 " Yes," said Phaidrig ; " but it is to turn it more in your favour. 
 I tell you, Masther Ned, if a woman has once got the real liking in 
 her heart for a man, Pm thinking absence is often the best friend he 
 has ; for he is always remembered in the best colours, while the one 
 that is thrying to throw him over is showing himself up, maybe, in 
 the w^orst. When lovers are together they sometimes will have a 
 little skrimage now and then ; when they are absent there is no unkind- 
 ness between them. I hear them say, how soft and inviting the moun- 
 tains look far away ; while I know myself how rugged and rocky they 
 are when you are upon them. And isn't it so with the best of friends ? 
 they sometimes break their shins over each other when they are together. 
 When we like people, we like in the lump ; just as the mountain can 
 only be seen in the distance, the little faults, like rough places, are 
 not persaived far off, it is only when we are near we find them out." 
 
 " Perhaps it is so," said Ned. " At least you are a kind fellow, 
 Phaidrig, to endeavour to make me think so, in the absence to which 
 I am doomed : though when a blind man talks of the visual beauties 
 of nature, to illustrate his argument, it might shake one's faith in the 
 soundness of his judgment." ,* 
 
 " Isn't love blind ?" said Phaidrig, with a chuckle; " and who so 
 good as a blind man to know his ways ? Remember the owld saying, 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 261 
 
 * Set a thief to catch a thief.' I tell you, Masther Ned, the' lover 
 remembered at a distance is seen, like the distant mountain, to advan- 
 tage ; for what is memory but the siglit of the heart?" 
 
 " True, Phaidrig ; 'tis a good name for it." 
 f " And in that sight I am as sthrong as any man," said the piper. 
 " Oh, don't I see my darlin' dog, my bowld Turlough, as plain as if 
 he was here, while I miss him sore." 
 
 " Your dog ! " exclaimed Ned, astonished and half indignant that 
 a brute should be named as a subject for fond memories at the same 
 time as his mistress. 
 
 " Aye, my dog ; and why not ? as trusty a friend as ever man had, 
 bowld and faithful, and as knowledgable as a Christian a'most ; all 
 he wants is the speech to make him far above many a score, aye, 
 hundreds, of men I have known in my time : and when them divils o' 
 sailors took me away, poor Turlough was on shore, and it's less for my 
 own want of him I grieve, than for the fret that will be on himself 
 while I'm away — poor fellow, he'll pine afther me, I'm afeard." 
 
 Notwithstanding Phaidrig's affectionate consideration of Turlough, 
 Ned still disrelished the juxtaposition of a dog and a lady, and assuring 
 Phaidrig that he had every confidence in the merits of his canine 
 friend, still he would rather he'd change the subject, and return to 
 Miss Lynch. 
 
 " To be sure," said Phaidrig. " Every man for his own ; you're 
 for Miss Nelly, and I'm for Turlough. Though, let me tell you, I 
 love Miss Nelly as well as ever you did, though afther a different 
 fashion, and would lay down my life for her, or the masther either. 
 Don't I know all about them as long as they know it themselves ? and 
 she, when she was a dawnsJiee thing, afther losing the mother — ah, 
 that was the sad day for the masther, and he was a different man ever 
 since ; and she, the darlin', as good as goold ever and always, and, of 
 late times, goin' here and there, through hardship and danger, with 
 the Captain at home and abroad. Oh, there's not the like of her in a 
 million ! " 
 
 " Now, Phaidrig, there is one question I would ask you," said Ned, 
 " since you talk of knowing the Captain so well. When first I saw 
 him at Galway I thought he was a foreigner, and — " 
 
 " Yis, yis," said Phaidrig, quickly, " I hear tell he does look foreign : 
 but sure no wondher, his mother was Spanish ; besides, he has been 
 abroad so much himself, it might give him the foreign air." 
 
 " But what I was going to ask you was about his real rank, for the 
 second time I saw him was in Hamburg, and there he went by the 
 name and title of Count Nellinski." 
 
 " Yis, yis," said Phaidrig, " I know he has gone by different names 
 in different places, when engaged in stirring up intere;?t for the 
 
2&2 £ s. (L 
 
 Prince; and * the CounV passed off' well in Jarmany, and gave a high 
 colour to the thing in some places, and made it not so aisy to thrace him ; 
 though as for that name you spake of — Nellinski I mane, sure i*'fi 
 nothing but his own and his daughter's put before it.'"^^^^ ^^^'^''S^ ^^^ 
 
 " How's that?" said Ned. ' :^ ' - 
 
 " Don't you know that the Irish people, in their OAvn tongue, call 
 Lynch, Linski? and put Nell before that, and there it's fttfi'J^, 
 chapther and verse, as plain as A, B, C." "■^- '^'^ 
 
 " So it is," said Ned ; " that never struck me before. Th^ h^^'fe 
 really only Captain Lynch ?" '^fi i biiiilo'tl 
 
 " Divil a more." --* '^''^ «Q*fw 
 
 " And not noble ?" -^ ^°^' 
 
 "Except in his nature; and not a complater gentlemairii ever 
 stepped in shoe leather. A little high betimes, may be, and given to 
 admire the owld blood, and that's one reason he favours Misther 
 Kierawaun ; he would like that family connexion." 
 
 " But you think that she — " said Ned. ^ 
 
 *' Likes him well, as a friend, but the love never was in it ; though 
 he tried hard for it, and I'm sure loves the ground she walks on, poor 
 fellow : but it's no use. Och, a woman's heart is a quare thing I'*'"'*^ 
 
 " And now, Phaidrig, I am going to ask you another questiOT ; 
 how comes it that you seem to favour my cause, though you were a 
 staunch adherent of Mister Kir wan long before you knew me ?" ^'^^ 
 
 " I'll tell you, then ; it's not that I value Misther KierawatliFa 
 thraneen'^ less, but that the love I bear Miss Nelly would make ^e 
 go through fire and wather to sarve or to plaze her ; and I have often 
 thought how hard her place is, going about the world in danger and 
 hardship with the masther, and how much betther it would be she 
 was married and settled. And that same the father would like himself, 
 — and threw the Kierawaun in her way always to bring it about, 
 but it would never do. For, gintleman as he is, as I said before, 
 the love never was in it. And I found out the other day, by a sthray 
 word or two of hers, that you were near her heart ; and do you know, 
 now, I always had a notion from the first that she liked you." 
 " Do you mean to say, from our first meeting ?" 
 " Yis, indeed, that same night in Galway. Oh, faix, you did good 
 sarvice that night ; without your help that night the masther would 
 have been taken, and as sure as he was, he'd ha' been hanged, for it 
 * went out on him' that he was working hard in enlisting for * the 
 Brigade,' and stirring up the counthry for the ' owld cause,' and they 
 were ' hot on him.'" 
 
 " Oh, blessed chance !" exclaimed Ned, " since it won me her 
 
 •'' A blade of jrrass. 
 
 1 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 263 
 
 ihfu^ldpji't say ' love,' exactly," said Pliaidrig ; " hut favour you won, 
 no doubt, that night in her eyes j she liked the bowldness of you ; 
 the masther, too, praised your spirit, and often I heered her afther 
 that night, when we were hiding in the hills of iar Connaught, 
 wishing she could know you were safe, and had not got into trouble 
 on her and her father's account. Somehow I thought, by the way 
 she spoke, that in the little sight she had of you, you plazed her eye, 
 or she wouldn't be so busy in thinking about a young blade getting 
 into a scrape for a sthreet row. Well ; — then they escaped out of 
 Ireland ; and the next I heer'd of you and her was from yourself, 
 when we travelled up here together to Scotland ; and it was plain to 
 me, from the way you spoke, that you wor over head and ears in love 
 with her. So, the first opportunity she gave me, I thought the best 
 thing I could do was to make you both undherstand one another, foi', 
 as I said before, the darling girl is in a sore position, and the sooner 
 she is out of it the betther." 
 
 " Oh, Phaidrig," said Ned, " as you have done so much for me, 
 cpuld you not urge her to fly with me at once, and end all difficulties ?" 
 
 " I know she would not hear of it," said Phaidrig. '^ She is too 
 fond of her father to leave him, and nothing will make him desert the 
 King's cause. No ; your plan is to help the cause as much as you 
 can, either down in England or over in France, and that will find you 
 fresh favour in her eyes, and win over the father to you — for there is 
 where the difficulty lies. I towld you he is very high betimes, and 
 given to the owld families and big names." 
 , : " Well," said Ned, " Fitzgerald is a good name." 
 ; , " Wow, o?v, ow, Masther Ned," said Phaidrig, slily, " that won't 
 do for me." 
 
 ii *' What do you mean?" said Ned, startled unexpectedly by the 
 form and manner of Phaidrig's answer ; for he had borne his adopted 
 name unquestioned so long, that he began to think it his own, and he 
 repeated to the piper, " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " Oh, Masther Ned, Fitzjarl is a good name — but you know — " 
 
 " What ?" said Ned, anxiously. 
 
 " That it's not your own." 
 , u , Ned felt confoundedly puzzled ; but wishing to make as good a fight 
 ;^ he could on such tender ground, he retreated from assertion by 
 turning querist, and demanded of the piper if Fitzgerald was not his 
 ,|giame, what other name was. 
 
 <,i I Phaidrig at once replied by returning the hated patronymic — 
 " Corkery." 
 
 Ned felt terribly abashed, and, on recovering himself sufficiently 
 from his sui-prise and chagrin, asked, with an exclamation of wonder 
 at Phaidrig's sagacity, how the deuce he found that out. 
 
2*04 £ S. d. 
 
 " Aisy enough, faith," said the piper. 
 
 *^ You're a deep fellow, Phaidrig." 
 
 " Pheugh \" ejaculated the blind man, " there's no depth in 
 that." 
 
 " Then how, in Heaven's name, did you discover it ?" 
 
 " Do you forget the fisherman in the Cladagh ?" 
 
 " Ah ! now I see !" exclaimed Ned, " he carried a letter to my 
 father." 
 
 " The very thing," said Phaidrig. 
 
 " What a fool I was to forget that !" said Ned, stamping with 
 vexation. 
 
 '•' Aisy, aisy," said Phaidrig, " don't put yourself in a passion ; and 
 mind, Masther Ned, you're as good in my estimation as if you came 
 from the earls of Kildare or the knights of Kerry, for you have the 
 rale right feeling and behavidur of a bowld brave gentleman, and a 
 king could have no more." 
 
 " Does she know this ? " asked Ned, careless of the piper's con- 
 cluding laudatory words. 
 
 " Not a taste of it," said Phaidrig. 
 
 " Nor her father ?" 
 
 " No. — They went out of Ireland soon afther that night ; and it 
 was not until I went back to the Cladagh I knew it. And, as I tell 
 you, you are as good in my eyes as if you were Fitzjarl in airnest; only, 
 if you go to talk with the captain about the hlood, you see, Fitzjarl is 
 too good a name not to be able to tell something about where it came 
 from." 
 
 " What a fool I have been!" said Ned, despondingly. 
 
 " Don't fret," said Phaidrig ; " I know very well what put you on 
 this. You have a feeling above your station, masther Ned, and that's 
 always throublesome ; and you didn't like the name of Corkery — • 
 'twasn't ginteel — no offence, masther Ned." 
 
 " No, no, Phaidrig, you're a good kind fellow, and a clever fellow 
 — you know me as well as I know myself" 
 
 " Betther, maybe," said Phaidrig ; " for I know those you come 
 from. Your mother came of a good family ; reduced they wor, like 
 many a good family in poor Ireland, but her blood was gentle^ 
 I tell you ; and the * good dhrop' was in her from both father's and 
 mother's side." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Ned, delighted. " Then I have good blood va 
 my veins ; — how do you know this ?" 
 
 " Oh, by a way of my own," said Phaidrig ; " but we have no time to 
 talk about that now. Only remember, the less you get into a * tangle' 
 with the masther about the name, the betther ; and Miss Nelly advises, 
 and I think she's right, that you should do some special sarvice in the 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 265 
 
 good cause, and make yourself stand so high as a servant of the Prince, 
 that you may come back here soon and defy owld Tully-buUy." 
 
 " Does she suggest any such service ? " said Ned. " I will gladly 
 do anything at her bidding." 
 
 " Fairly spoken, Masther Ned ; and now a last word more with 
 you. Meet me here to-morrow night again. Keep close in the mane- 
 time, though ; for, by the powers, if Tully-bully lays hands on you, 
 he'll mark you. Meet me here, I say again, to-morrow night, and I'll 
 have more news for you." 
 
 " Remember," said Ned, " there is nothing too difficult or despe- 
 rate for me to undertake." 
 
 " I know it," said Phaidrig — " good night." 
 
 " Phaidrig," said Ned, hesitating — " before we part, tell me truly 
 — are you certain she does not know my name is Corkery ?" 
 
 Phaidrig burst into a fit of laughter, which he could not repress 
 for some time, while Ned besought him to desist, strongly deprecating 
 his merriment. 
 
 " Oh, its grate fun ! " said Phaidrig, when he recovered his breath ; 
 " sure poor human pride is a quare thing. Here's a brave fellow, 
 that all the dangers of desperate adventure couldn't daunt, and he 
 thrimbles at the sound of a name ! But don't be afeard, I'll not sell 
 the pass on you — good night — good night." 
 
 Ned having reconducted Phaidrig to the bridge, where the boy was 
 waiting, shook his hand heartily, and they separated until the follow- 
 ing evening, when Ned, at the appointed hour, was there again, and 
 soon joined by the piper. He, desiring the boy, who was his guide, to 
 ^^ go to where he knew" seized Ned's arm, and followed, whispering 
 to him that he was taking him to " Miss Nelly ;" on hearing which, 
 Ned started off at such a pace, that the blind man nearly lost his 
 footing in attempting to keep up with him, remarking, that if " a spur 
 in the head was worth two in the heel," a spur in the heart was still 
 better. After threading some narrow streets, the boy stopped before 
 a door, which was opened without knocking, on Phaidrig's whistling 
 a few bars of the air called " Open the door softly." 
 
 Softly and quietly they entered, too, a gleam from an open apart- 
 ment at the end of the hall giving sufficient light to indicate the 
 passage, and, in another instant, Ned stood in the presence of Ellen, 
 seated at a table whereon were materials for writing. She laid down 
 her pen as he entered, and extended her hand, which he pressed fondly, 
 and continued to hold, as he gazed on her face, which was paler and 
 more thoughtful than ordinary. They were silent for some time ; at 
 length, Ellen, with hesitation, said — 
 
 " I fear you will think my conduct of last night deficient in proper 
 reserve; but — " 
 
2GG £ s, d, 
 
 " For Heaven's sake !" exclaimed Ned, " do not attribute tq;iqjQf^] 
 
 unworthy a thought of you — you, who are my " . U fj'>ivT 
 
 " No more!" said Ellen; " a truce to all high-flown speech.f,..rf,..r: 
 Ned still held her hand and said, " Do you remember you presente^t 
 this little hand to me the first night I met you ? " ^ 
 
 " Did I?" said Ellen, casting down her eyes, while something ,U)^^j 
 a smile of consciousness played on her lip. ,.;.r >j,jj lUhA 
 
 " Yes," said Ned. " To remember the touch of that fairy liaiwlf "^ 
 was my greatest pleasure for many and many a day, till chance threw 
 in my way a more tangible remembrancer. Do you know what that 
 is?" he said, laying down before her on the table a shrivelled up 
 shapeless thing, impossible to recognise — " That," said Ned, " once 
 bore in its delicate shapeliness a faint resemblance of this fair handj — 
 for it was your glove." .^^^ 
 
 •* And where could you get my glove ? " said Ellen, in surprise. . -j^ 
 " In Hamburg." ,^^^j 
 
 " I never saw you in Hamburg ! " ^f^[ 
 
 " No, but I saw you ; you were stopping at the Kaiserltoff there." 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I went to see you there— you were gone. I asked to see even 
 the room which you inhabited, and there I found this glove, and made 
 a prize of it ; and it was often the companion of many a meditative 
 and hopeless hour. It was the only thing I saved when I was ship- 
 wrecked. Amidst the horrors of the fiercest tempest I ever witnessed, 
 I thought of that little glove, and could not bear to lose it, I secured 
 it next my heart before I jumped into the sea; and the death-strug- 
 gling swim for my life has made it what you see, shrunk and shapeless, 
 but still precious to me ; " and he kissed, and replaced it in his bosom. 
 " Do you not remember, at the farewell supper of the Prince at Nantes, 
 when the song of * The hand and the glove' was sung, I toid you 
 I had got the glove already ? " 
 
 " I remember," said Ellen, " though I could not understand it then." 
 " The song," said Eldward, " prophesied, that he who won the glove, 
 should win the hand — and here it is !" he said fervently, as he raised 
 it to his lips, " it is — at least, it will be mine !" ^j 
 
 Ellen looked at him thoughtfully, and said, " Dark days, and dangers, 
 and difficulties, are yet before us. Be it enough to know that you are 
 esteemed — and now, no word more of romance, but listen. That 
 sealed packet on the table is to be entrusted to your care ; — ^it is from 
 our Prince to Louis of France. It behoves us that the King should 
 know how far, beyond all hope, our cause already prospers, and that 
 he should be urged to lend a helping hand in good time to raise a 
 brother monarch to a rightful throne. When I found that you n\^st 
 absent yourself for a time, it struck me you could not better einpjtoy 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 267 
 
 your^elf''tliari ill being the messenger to render such good service-*- 
 service that will win you honour, and for which your former pursuits 
 peculiarly lit you ; and I, therefore, undertook to promise the Prince 
 that I would procure a messenger on whom he could depend. He did 
 me the honour to confide in my judgment and prudence in the selec- 
 tion of that messenger, and, without further question, entrusted me 
 with this packet. I found I did not count myself higher in the 
 Prince's confidence than I stood ; and I'm sure I did not make an 
 empty boast w^hen I promised to find the messenger." She smiled 
 sweetly on Edward, as she spoke ; and he was profuse in assurances 
 that, to do her behest, w^as the dearest pleasure of his life, and in thanks 
 for the honour she had procured him. 1/ 3J:>i»wv*tir 
 
 But w^iile Ned was talking about " devotion," and " honour," it' 
 suddenly occurred to him that he was quite without the proper means 
 of prosecuting so important and difficult a service. He had neither 
 horse, nor arms, nor money ; for, by this time, Ned's purse had run 
 low, and an oppressive feeling of shamefacedness came over him, to 
 confess this to his " ladye love." >- -* '^^^^ 
 
 " This letter," she said, as she folded and sealed what she had been 
 writing as Ned came into her presence, " is to one you already know, 
 the good father Flaherty, who will give you his aid in Paris. And 
 these," she added, as she put some documents into an unsealed enve- 
 lope, " will give you facility wherever you land in the French domi- 
 nions ; and now the last word is speed." 
 
 '■' Ned wished to tell how he was circumstanced, but could not get out 
 a'word. 
 
 ""' " You must start early to-morrow," said Ellen. 
 ' ^^ Certainly," answered Ned; though he did not know how. 
 
 '' '^' As for the means " - ''"t -^^ - 
 
 '" « Oh, don't mention it," said Ned. - 9^^^ ^''J^ 
 
 " Are you already provided, then ?" -'^ *og f>Bif J 
 
 " I can't exactly say I am, but " lasmm I '' 
 
 • ' " But what ?" said EUen. '\??<^t)'. qs\T *' 
 
 " Oh, to talk to a lady about money is so horrid ! " said Ned, grow- 
 ing quite scarlet. 
 
 '" " To be sure, the hashfulness of an Irishman is the strangest thing 
 in the world ! " said Ellen, smiling. " He could not ask a lady for 
 some few gold pieces, though he has little hesitation in asking for her 
 heart. Is it less valuable, I wonder ! " said Ellen, mischievously. 
 ^*' Ned gave a groan of denial, and said she must admit talking about 
 ^iiioney matters to a lady w^as awkward. 
 
 " Not when it concerns a commission which she herself originates," 
 '§aid Ellen. " But make yourself easy on that point — I have provided 
 all* V thanks to the Prince." 
 
268 A, s. a, 
 
 " The Prince ! " said Ned, in wonder ; " I heard he had not a 
 Louis d'or left." 
 
 *' Not yesterday," said Ellen ; " but the public money of Perth was 
 seized to-day, and here is some of it." She laid a tolerably well-stocked 
 purse on the table as she spoke ; and going to an old cabinet in the 
 corner of the chamber, produced a handsome pair of pistols, and a 
 sword, telling Edward, at the same time, a horse should be at his 
 service in the morning. " And now," she said, in a voice somewhat 
 low and tremulous, " farewell — and Heaven speed you ! " 
 
 Edward having secured his packets, buckled on the rapier, and 
 placed the pistols in his belt, pressed the fairy hand which was pre- 
 sented to him to his heart, and would have spoken ; but words were 
 difficult, where so many thoughts were struggling for utterance. 
 When and where might they meet again, when both were involved in 
 adventures so doubtful and perilous ! At such a time the deeper 
 emotions of the heart are better looked than spoken ; and after gazing 
 steadfastly upon Ellen for some seconds, he suddenly drew her to his 
 heart, and after a fervent and silent embrace, hurried from her 
 presence. 
 
 n 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 269 
 
 «)ih nr V 
 e htm 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 When the rumour first got abroad that the young Pretender had 
 landed, travelling was sufficiently dangerous to those who were inter- 
 ested in his cause ; but now that it was known he was advancing on 
 the capital of Scotland, the authorities were doubly vigilant, and kept 
 a still sharper eye on all suspicious persons; and all those whom 
 government influence could induce to play the spy, or entrap the 
 friends of the Jacobite cause, were on the alert to get the promised 
 reward for securing and giving up the disaffected. In numerous 
 instances innocent persons at this time were involved in trouble, and 
 sometimes in danger; how much more, then, did hazard attend the 
 movements of the real adherents of the Stuarts, the moment they got 
 beyond the circle which the Prince's armed power rendered secure, or 
 while they were yet beyond and sought to join his ranks. To cut off 
 all communication of aid from the Lowlands to the insurgents, or of 
 intelligence from the Highlands of the northern successes already 
 achieved, was of importance to the government, and hence the Forth 
 and all the roads leading to it were sharply watched, and bribery 
 employed in some of the small houses of accommodation by the way 
 side, to engage their owners against the Jacobite cause. 
 
 Thus circumstanced was the house where Ned stopped to bait his 
 horse after a hard ride. It was in a neighbourhood where certain 
 flying reports had aroused the suspicions of government touching the 
 intentions of the Drummonds, and a sharp look-out was kept there, 
 so that, as fate would have it, it was the most unlucky place Ned 
 could have put his head into, but, as Phaidrig always said, " he had a 
 knack for getting into scrapes." A rough, short, shock-headed fellow, 
 in a kilt, who was landlord, answered to the summons of our traveller, 
 and took his horse to lead to the stable, while Ned entered the house 
 and ordered a mouthful for himself while the nag should be feeding, 
 for he had left Perth at an early hour and had tasted nothing since. 
 The larder of this roadside hostel was not particularly extensive, as, 
 indeed, one might infer from its outward appearance, and the homely 
 fare Ned was promised was not of a nature to consume much time in 
 
270 £ s, cl. Hi 
 
 the cooking ; therefore was Ned rather surprised at the length of time 
 he was allowed to fast, and to every inquiry he made the assurance 
 was so often given, it will be " ready immediately," that he began to 
 suppose he should not get anything, and had made up his mind tO' 
 take the road without tasting the delicacies of " mine host," when his 
 horse had been accommodated ; for Ned was one of those good 
 tempered fellows who took things pretty much as they came, and, on- 
 the present occasion, as " getting on" was his principal object, he 
 cared less for his own comfort than that of the beast, on whose good' 
 service so much depended. "When, on asking again, he received the 
 same answer of " ready immediately," he said he would not take any- 
 thing, but proceed the moment his horse was fed, and that they need 
 not take any further trouble about his repast.' 
 
 To this the host replied, he was sure Ned was too much of a 
 gentleman to order a dinner and not stay to eat it — it would be using 
 a host hard to do the like. He was sure '' his honour would 
 stay." * saom ii 
 
 ~ There seemed to Ned something more in this than what lay 66'^'^' 
 surface. It struck him there was an intention existing here to delay 
 him, and, this suspicion once aroused, he regarded all that passed 
 since he had alighted through that medium, and felt a sudden distrust 
 of the people about him. He determined to leave the house at once, 
 and with this view went to the stable to mount directly ; but what was 
 his surprise and increased uneasiness, to be unable to find his horse 
 any where* v»i ,l-c>/1 
 
 He called the host, who, in answer to Ned's inquiry after his^hdlhs^,'^ 
 answered that he had sent off a boy with him to the neighbouring 
 " burn" to drink. o;1^.^:.1) 
 
 Ned saw the landlord was telling a falsehood as he spoke^* 'Ijit^ f 
 feigning credence, he returned to the house with affected indifference,* 
 though filled with serious alarm. After a few minutes' consideration, 
 his resolve was taken to leave the place at once on foot, and take 
 chance for his escape, rather than remain among enemies. But to do 
 this he must revisit the stable, for there, in the panel of his saddle, his 
 despatches for France were concealed, for greater security. 
 
 Having seen the landlord re-enter the house, Ned returned to the 
 shed, by complaisance called a stable, and soon had his knife at work 
 in ripping his papers from the saddle ; but quick and cunning as he 
 was, the astute Scot was a match for him ; for, before he had com- 
 pleted his work, in ran the landlord after him, and just caught him in 
 the act of pulling the papers from their place of concealment. '.:- ^ 
 
 " Hegh !" he exclaimed, "that's a rare pouch ye ha' got foriycrs 
 honour's letthers. I doubt they're unco precious or ye wad na hide 
 them in your saddle.'* ■ ^^ 
 
>%?/////</ f/.^i^y/^. /A-€ 
 
 Alftine ChiTmbers. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 271 
 
 *;* What is it to you where I have my letters?" said Ned, very 
 angry. 
 
 " Dinna fash, mon, dinna fash, I dinna want to read them ; I can 
 mak a guess o' the contents !" said the fellow with a grin. 
 
 " Gan you make a guess of the contents of this ?" said Ned, fiercely, 
 as he drew a pistol from his pocket, and springing between the land- 
 lord and the door, presented it at his over-curious host. 
 
 " Hegh ! ye wad na commit murder," he shouted, in alarm, as he 
 held his hands between his head and the levelled weapon. 
 
 "I would think very little of shooting a treacherous rascal like 
 you," said Ned. " Tell me where you have concealed my horse, 
 scoundrel !" 
 
 He swore it was gone to be watered, and swore so loudly, that Ned 
 saw it was to attract attention from the house. " Don't talk so loud," 
 said Ned, in a very significant under tone, " I am not deaf. If you 
 want the house to be really alarmed, the report of my pistol will do 
 it most effectually ; and if you make any more noise that report is the 
 next thing — and the last thing — you shall hear." 
 
 There was a certain earnestness in the way this was said that 
 carried belief with it, and reduced the landlord to obedience. Ned 
 taking a piece of rope that hung from a ring in the wall, made a 
 running noose in a moment, and desired his prisoner to put it over 
 his shoulders. There was a refusal to comply at first, but the levelled 
 pistol again procured submission, and when compliance was made, 
 Ned, by a sudden jerk, had the landlord's arms pinioned to his side, in 
 another instant he sprang behind him, and his nautical experience had 
 made him so conversant with knots and nooses of all kinds, that the 
 treacherous landlord was bound hand and foot and laid on his back, 
 in little more than the time it has taken to relate it. A small wisp of 
 straw, placed across his mouth and tied down with a handkerchief, 
 prevented his making any outcry, and Ned was about leaving the shed 
 and making the best of his way from so inauspicious a spot, when the 
 clatter of horses' feet startled him ; and as he saw four horsemen trot 
 into the yard he gave himself up for lost, supposing them to be the 
 authorities to whom it was intended he should fall a victim. Neverthe- 
 less he determined to present a bold front, and, if the worst came to 
 the worst, sell his life dearly. Notwithstanding the desperate circum- 
 stances in which he supposed himself to be placed, he was perfectly 
 collected; for his was that determined courage which bestows self- 
 possession in the hour of danger ; therefore he calmly, though intently, 
 observed the motions of the horsemen. Three of them alighted, 
 giving their nags to the care of the fourth, who, though not in a 
 livery, seemed to be a servant. The dismounted men entered the 
 house, and as the face of the attendant was turned towards Edward, 
 
272 £ 
 
 s. 
 
 ■ he had an opportunity of observing it carefully, and it struck him he 
 had seen it somewhere before. Memory suddenly came to his aid. 
 It was on the race course of Galway he had met him, on that eventful 
 day when his heart became enslaved by the fair unknown one. It was 
 in attendance on her and her father this very man had been riding ; it 
 was not likely, therefore, he was in connexion with the enemies of the 
 Stuart cause. Ned at once approached the servant, and addressed 
 him, noticing the great beauty of the horse he held. 
 
 To this the servant returned a brief assent, but did not seem 
 inclined to enter into conversation. 
 
 " I think I have seen your face before," said Ned. 
 " You could not very well see it behind, sir," he answered ; Ned 
 recognising, in the quibble as well as the accent, a countryman. 
 " Were you ever at the Galway races P"^; 
 
 " It would be hard for me to remember all the races I have been 
 at," said the other, evasively. 
 
 " If I don't very much mistake," said Ned, " * of all the birds in 
 the air, and all the fish in the sea,' you love the hlachhird" 
 The man made no answer, but returned a searching look. 
 " If so," pursued Ned, ' war hawk !' don't be afraid of me. You 
 were riding behind Captain Lynch, at Galway.'* 
 " Are the Captain and you great,* sir ?" 
 '* Fast friends," said Ned, " and in the same cause." 
 " He's very great with my master," said the servant. 
 " May I beg the favour of his name ?" 
 " Colonel Kelly, sir." 
 " Of Roscommon ?" 
 " The same, sir." 
 
 " Then I must speak with him," said Ned, entering the house, and 
 proceeding at once to the little parlour where the Colonel was seated 
 in company with Drummond, afterwards ci'eated duke of Perth by 
 James, but contemptuously characterised by the bitter Horace Wal- 
 pole, as the " horse-racing boy," which title sufficiently accounts for 
 tlie gallant steed Ned noticed. 
 
 Apologizing for his apparent intrusion, Ned told the gentlemen the 
 suspicions he entertained of the house, relating the manner in which 
 he had been served, and the measures he adopted respecting the land- 
 lord ; " and, as I have reason to believe," said he, " that your political 
 opinions are the same as mine, I thought it my duty to wai'n you." 
 
 " Then we had better mount and be off at once," said a third party, 
 whose name was unknown to Ned. 
 
 " You forget," said Kelly, " this gentleman has lost his horse and 
 
 * Very intimate. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 273 
 
 <^annot go, and 'twould be ungenerous to leave liim in jeopardy, after 
 liis friendly warning to us." 
 
 " Perhaps a good horse-whipping to the landlord would procure 
 speedy restitution of the nag," said Drummond — " we'll see." He 
 left the room as he spoke, followed by the whole party; but, as he 
 emerged from the house, he suddenly paused, and cast a quick glance 
 down the road, as if some object in the distance attracted his attention. 
 Shading his eyes with his hand, he looked keenly for a few seconds, 
 and exclaimed, " There are the red-coats !" 
 
 All now looked in the direction he indicated; and, winding down a 
 path that led to a hollow, about a mile distant, a party of dragoons 
 was visible. 
 
 " We must fly instantly," said the nameless gentleman, putting his 
 foot in the stirrup at the words. 
 
 Drummond uttered a strong negative to this, and laid his hand on 
 the shoulder of his precipitate friend. 
 
 " If we fly now," said he, " the loons will see us going up the next 
 hill, and our apparent flight will encourage them to follow ; and though 
 we might outstrip them, and effect an immediate escape, it would not 
 be safe to ride through the next town with dragoons at our heels — no ; 
 we must beat them." 
 
 ^' Desperate odds," replied the other. 
 
 " Not with such as those," said Drummond; " Gardiner gives them 
 more prayers than drill; and you'll see how ill they can take cold steel 
 and lead." 
 
 " Lead ?" returned Kelly, " you forget they are used to Gardiner's 
 sermons" — the devil-may-care Colonel joking in the moment of 
 danger. 
 
 " We'll preach to them after another fashion," said Drummond. 
 
 " Then we had better lose no time in getting our text ready," replied 
 Kelly. 
 
 Their arrangements were soon made. A hole was knocked through 
 the shutter of a window which flanked the door ; all the shutters were 
 then barred, and all the pistols of the party given to Kelly's servant, 
 to be fired in rapid succession, when the house should be summoned, 
 so that the dragoons might entertain the belief that several were 
 within to make defence, while the gentlemen should remain mounted, 
 with drawn swords, concealed behind the shed and a peat-stack, and 
 make a charge on the troopers at a proper time. The landlord was 
 dragged into the inn, bound as he was, lest the entrance of the 
 soldiers into the shed might put them on their guard, while the 
 women were taken from the house that they should not unbind him, 
 and join in overpowering the solitary man within, who, as his master 
 told him, was to be " an entire garrison in his own person." 
 
 T 
 
274 £ s. d, 
 
 Mick (the servant) having barricaded the door, the gentlemen 
 mounted, and took their post behind the peat-stack, where the women 
 were also concealed under their surveillance. They were barely ready- 
 in these their preparations, when the distant tramp and clatter of the 
 troopers were heard, and soon they wheeled into the yard, and the 
 word " halt," brought them to a stand before the inn. 
 
 The officer in command called " house!" but no reply was returned. 
 He repeated the summons with as little effect; whereupon he ordered 
 a couple of dragoons to dismount, and force the door open with the 
 butt end of their carbines. 
 
 This was the signal for the " garrison" to commence hostilities. — 
 Mick delivered two shots, so well directed, that a couple of saddles 
 were emptied, and three more galling fires flashing from the loop-hole 
 in rapid succession, simulated a well-armed force more than prepared 
 for the favour of this military visit. — At the same moment Drummond, 
 pointing to the women, exclaimed with an oath, " Now we'll cut these 
 jades' throats ! " and affected to put his menace into execution. The 
 women set up a terrific screech, which was all Drummond wanted, 
 and which he knew the dragoons would mistake for the shrill shout 
 of an onslaught of Highlanders. The four men joined a wild " halloo ! " 
 to the women's yell, and rushing sword in hand on the rear of the 
 dragoons, filled them with such terror, that they fled, panic stricken, 
 and never drew rein till they reached the next town, filling it with 
 alarm at the awful account they gave of a numerous detachment they 
 encountered — of being betrayed into an ambuscade by a rascally land- 
 lord, who had been bribed into their interest, as was believed, but 
 who had thus sold them to their enemies ; and the aforesaid *' rascally 
 landlord" afterwards suffered severely for the consequences of this 
 occurrence ; for nothing could clear him in the opinion of those whose 
 gold he had taken. It may seem incredible that a troop of horse 
 should thus be beaten by five men ; but the subsequent events of 1745 
 exhibited still more glaring instances of the miserable cowai*dice of 
 Gardiner's dragoons.* 
 
 The field being won, " the garrison" was ordered to open the gates, 
 and out walked Mick with a cocked pistol, demanding from the dis- 
 mounted dragoons, who could not run away, their carbines, which they 
 gave up. 
 
 * At JFrew they permitted Charles's force to pass the ford without the slightest 
 opposition, the first splash of the Ilighlandei's in the Forth being the signal for 
 their headlong flight. At Colt bridge they ran again, the affair being jocularly 
 known to this day as " the canter of Colt Brigg." They galloped right through 
 Edinburgh, and did not halt till the city was between them and the enemy. In 
 the night, one of the men falling into a deep hole, and calling for help, alarmed the 
 regiment. They fancied the Highlanders were upon them, and fled, never stopping 
 till they arrived at Dunbar, under cover of Cope's infantry — that same Cope who 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 275 
 
 Mick then marched them before him into the house, and shut them 
 up in durance. 
 
 He then gratified himself by a little exercise with a stirrup-leather 
 on the landlord, between every three or four whacks giving him moral 
 advice as to his future conduct respecting what Mick called " tricks 
 upon travellers." 
 
 " This is a good day's work," said Ned, " four horses, accoutrements 
 and arms — articles the Prince stands most in need of. One of the 
 horses, however, I must take in default of my own lost one." 
 
 " Better take mine," said Drummond. " You need a sound steed 
 on the enterprise you tell me you have undertaken ; and here is one 
 that will never fail you." 
 
 He dismounted and handed the rein to Ned, who hesitated for a 
 moment to accept so valuable a gift. " Tut, man," said Drummond, 
 " but for you all our lives might have been lost — this is but a small 
 return; besides, 'tis for the good of the noble cause in which we are all 
 engaged. Take him — if pursued, there is not a horse in Scotland can 
 catch him, and there is no leap you can turn him to he will refuse. 
 And now one word more before you go. It will be about evening 
 when you reach Stirling, and I would counsel you to let the sun be 
 well down before you cross the bridge, for it is right under the castle, 
 and " the Lion," as the old keep is called, has sharp eyes, and claws too 
 — so keep clear of them. Cross the bridge in the dark, and get through 
 the city as soon as may be, and leave the strong-hold some miles 
 behind you before you sleep." 
 
 Ned promised to attend to the caution, and having got back his 
 pistols, reloaded them, mounted his mettled horse and was about to 
 leave, when he paused and requested Colonel Kelly, when he should 
 see Captain Lynch, to tell him he had met his daughter's messenger, 
 and that he was so far well on his way. 
 
 " Is there anything more I can do for you ?" said Drummond. 
 " Favour me with your name, and for your good service this day call 
 upon me at any time, and I will not fail you." 
 
 "Sir," said Ned, "since you think so well of my poor services, 
 perhaps you will tell the Prince that Captain Fitzgerald, of his High- 
 ness's first regiment, had it in his power to be useful." 
 
 " I will," said Drummond, " and more than that" 
 
 " I fear. Sir, you are inclined to overrate my doings," said Ned 
 
 was asleep off the field at Prestonpans, when he should have been awake upon it, 
 and whose memory is recorded in the song of " Hey, Johnnie Cope, are ye waukin' 
 yet ? " At Prestonpans the disgrace of the dragoons was completed. Their Colonel 
 could not induce them to charge. He died on the field, while they fled without 
 striking a blow, and, with General Cope at their head, never cried stop until they 
 reached Coldstream that very night — a distance of upwards of fifty miles— a pretty 
 good run ! 
 
 t2 
 
276 £ 5. d. 
 
 modestly ; " but if ever you chance to speak of me to Lord TuUi- 
 bardine," he added, while a waggish expression played across his face 
 — " I don't care how highly you praise me." 
 
 " Ho, ho," returned Drummond, smiling. " Some fun, I see — well, 
 let me alone for helping a joke. I will play your trumpeter to the 
 skies the first time old Tullibardine falls in my w^ay." 
 
 " Do ; and you'll see how fond he is of me !" said Ned, laughing, 
 and putting spurs to his steed, who answered the summons something 
 in the way an arrow responds to the twang of the bowstring. 
 
 " That's a mettlesome, sporting fellow," said Drummond, looking 
 down the road after him ; " how well he sits his horse ! " 
 
 At such a pace Ned was soon out of sight, when his friends at the 
 inn set about completing their work. The landlord, for the treacherous 
 part he played Ned, was threatened with hanging, a punishment only 
 remitted at the prayers of the women, who were then set at liberty, 
 and told they might release their master, which they had some trouble 
 in doing, not understanding the mysteries of the scientific knots in 
 which Ned had bound him. 
 
 It was at first intended to leave the dragoons at the inn ; but as the 
 horses were an object, and it might look suspicious to see them led by 
 gentlemen, it was determined to make the dragoons mount and accom- 
 pany them, while O'Kelly's servant could ride one of the beasts and 
 lead the other. 
 
 The charges of the carbines being drawn, the inoffensive weapons 
 were returned to the troopers, who were made to appear like a guard 
 of honour to the gentlemen. They, making a detour to avoid a 
 neighbouring town, where they apprehended the presence of the 
 military, soon struck into a road which lay towards their friends, and 
 thus the dragoons, seemingly the protectors, were led captive into 
 Perth by the dashing Drummond, who made a creditable entry into 
 the Jacobite lines, not only bringing the service of his own sword to 
 the cause, but bringing in prisoners. 
 
 It was evening when Ned approached Stirling Castle, that most 
 beautiful of embattled structures. The golden tints of sunset lit up its 
 sculptured richness into bright relief; moulding, dripstone, corbelle 
 and mullion caught the glowing light ; tlie fretted windows flashed 
 back the red rays, till old Stirling glittered more like a castle of fairy 
 tale than a creation of this world. If all the beauty of its interior 
 structure could not be seen by Ned from the road below, still there 
 was enough to charm his eye ; the very cliff whereon it is seated 
 spires up so nobly, the guardian castle crowns its heights so fitly, 
 and when, as at that hour, its embattled wall and every " coign 
 of vantage " glows in the flattering light of an autumnal sunset, where 
 is the traveller who would not pause to gaze on Stirling Castle ? 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 277 
 
 Thus paused Ned, according to order ; but without such order thus 
 would he have paused to feast his eye Avith the picturesque enchant- 
 ment of the scene. He waited till the glowing towers had faded into 
 grey, and shadow and mist were spreading below, before he dared to 
 pass the Forth. When assured the keenest eye of " the Lion " could 
 not detect him, he dashed across the long and narrow bridge, and the 
 stony streets of the royal city rang to the hoofs of his mettled charger, 
 which soon bore him beyond the " strong-hold," as Drummond recom- 
 mended, and he passed on many a mile before he slept. The next 
 morning, at an early hour, he was on the road, and travelled that live- 
 long day; the gallant horse behaved well, and enabled his rider to 
 sleep at the foot of the Cheviots that night. The next day he pushed 
 on for Tynemouth, where, in his smuggling days, he had made an 
 acquaintance who could serve his turn on the present occasion. His 
 friend was propitious. The horse w^as sold, and Ned's purse con- 
 siderably strengthened in consequence, which enabled him all the 
 sooner to get a cast over the herring-pond, by the good price he 
 offered for that friendly office. In fine, Ned used such diligence in 
 the prosecution of his journey, that in ten days after his quitting 
 Perth he arrived at Paris. 
 
278 £ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Ned lost no time in repairing to the quarters of the worthy Father 
 Flaherty, to whose good offices he already stood indebted for getting 
 him out of Bruges, and on whom he was now to depend for getting 
 him on in Paris. The father was not at home, but, as Ned was 
 given to understand, out attending a sick call ; but Ned was invited 
 to wait till his return. 
 
 It was not to one of his regular communicants the priest was called 
 to administer the last consolations of religion. He did not even know 
 her name ; the messenger said a carriage was in waiting to bear him 
 to the lady who besought his offices, and the priest obeyed the sum- 
 mons. A beautiful woman lay within the chamber he was invited to 
 enter. Sickness had not wasted her noble form, for the attack under 
 which she was sinking was sudden ; and the approach of death did not 
 mar the fine cast of her countenance, whose paleness only indicated 
 retreating life ; and what the eye had lost in fire, was more than com- 
 pensated by the shadowy thoughtfulness which filled it, and became 
 the pallor better than a brighter look. With a low, sweet voice she 
 addressed the priest, and giving him an open letter, asked him, " Did 
 he recognise the handwriting ? " 
 
 The Father knew it at once for Ellen Lynch's. 
 
 " You see to whom it is written," said the lady. 
 
 He referred to the address, and found the direction was to " Ma- 
 demoiselle Le Couvreur;" and then turned his eyes at once from the 
 letter to the lady. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " you see poor Adrienne at her last hour. I am 
 dying, father, and would have your holy offices before I depart. 
 1 know my profession excludes me from the benefits of the Church 
 — that the ban of excommunication is upon me; but I am not an actress 
 now — the tragic scene of fiction, and the sadder tragedy of real life is 
 over with me ; I am now but a dying woman, and your kind heart 
 will melt to the prayer of a repentant sinner ; you will not refuse her 
 confession at this last hour, nor deny her the rites of the Church, so 
 far as you can confer them: — I would not die like a dog. Father." 
 
 The Father knew how Adrienne had preserved Ellen from ruin, and 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 279 
 
 the remembrance of that goodness on her part rose up in all its bright- 
 ness before him, his heart was melted, and he said, " Daughter, may 
 God be merciful to you ! " 
 
 " Amen!" piously ejaculated Adrienne ; "that holy aspiration 
 from a holy man is comfort to me. Give me back that letter. Father ; 
 it has been my greatest consolation in these my last moments, for it 
 contains thanks from that sweet angelic girl for being preserved by 
 me from ruin. 'Tis the evidence of the best act of my life, and is a 
 comfort to me in death." She laid the letter to her heart, and pressed 
 it as she spoke : — " Father, for the sake of that sweet girl whom you 
 value, give me the rites of the Church. If I have been a sinner 
 myself, at least I preserved her virtue from pollution." 
 
 " I will give you the comfort you seek, daughter," said the kind- 
 hearted Irishman, "and fortunate I hold myself that I can do so. 
 I am not under the authority of the diocese of Paris, otherwise I might 
 not ; but as it is, I can listen to the voice of a repentant sinner, and 
 receive you into the bosom of the Church on your humble expression 
 of contrition for the past, and a promise of leading a regenerate life for 
 the future." 
 
 " I do acknowledge my sinfulness, and own my deep contrition for 
 the past, and I promise all you ask me for the future ; but. Father," 
 said the noble-hearted woman, " I can claim no credit for a promise 
 I can never be called on to perform, for I feel I am dying." 
 
 The Father received her general confession, it therefore needed not 
 privacy, and her weeping attendant stood by while she was shrived. 
 
 A brighter and more composed expression beamed on the face of 
 Adrienne ; and, as the priest knelt and prayed beside her, and gave 
 the last office, her fading eye was raised devotionally to heaven, while 
 she still held Ellen's letter to her heart, together with the rose she 
 plucked and divided with her at parting. The sacred duty of the 
 priest being ended, he rose from his knees, and sat beside the bed, and 
 spoke of comfort to her. 
 
 " Father," she said, " I die happy ; and when your own spirit 
 shall be passing away, the remembrance of this goodness you have 
 shown an erring woman, perhaps, will be a comfort to you, as this dear 
 letter is to me. Marguerite," she said to her attendant, who wept 
 silently beside the bed, " let this letter, and this flower, be buried with 
 me — place them over my heart : — it will soon cease to beat." 
 
 The attendant, struggling with her sobs, besought the priest to 
 obtain permission for her mistress to lie in consecrated ground ; but 
 this the Father said was impossible. 
 
 " It matters not," said Adrienne, " there is a spot I would rather 
 rest in than in Notre Dame; it is the parterre before my country 
 house— there, on the spot I parted from her — by the rose-tree. Mar- 
 
280 £ S, d. 
 
 guerite — there it was I felt and said, when her grateful eyes beamed 
 on me, that I could fancy a seraph had for once looked kindly on me ; 
 
 and there let me lie. I think I see her angelic look now — now. 
 
 Marguerite — your hand — I am dying — farewell. Father — God bless 
 you for your charity 1 die happy ! " 
 
 She spoke no more ; the voice of Adrienne was silent for ever, and 
 in a few minutes her noble heart was pulseless : yet the lifeless hand 
 still held the rose — that treasured memento of her happiest hour. 
 
 The Father knelt beside her bed, and prayed for her passing spirit. 
 His oraison concluded, he arose, and stepped, with silent tread, from 
 
 the chamber. Why do w^e step so softly near the dead ? We 
 
 need not fear to break their sleep. Alas, we cannot wake them ! 
 
 In a few days after, the mortal remains of the beautiful actrea* 
 were consigned to the earth. Her grave was made, as she directed, 
 near the rose-tree in the parterre before her own house. The 
 funeral was, at her own request, private, but Father Flaherty was 
 present, and he obtained leave for Edward also to attend, who wished 
 to pay this tribute of respect to one who had preserved Ellen from 
 destruction. The day was wet and stormy : it suited the occasion. 
 But three months since the lively Adrienne and the merry June were 
 acquainted, and now September wailed and wept above her grave. 
 The bright parterre in which she had lived was colourless ; the rose- 
 tree, whence she plucked the flower now in her coffin, was reft of its 
 beauty, like the mistress who had reared it. The glories of the 
 garden had withered, and the beautiful Adrienne was dead. 
 
 It was with saddened hearts that Edward and his reverend friend 
 returned to Paris, after the Father had breathed a blessing over hey 
 grave. 
 
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 ,r ',tv'jrAldin.e Cliajnlsc.rs. Paternoster Row, ]0 1'3. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 281 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 The task is wearisome to wait on men in office, and seek the favours? 
 of a government for a foreign state. Edward found this to his cost. 
 With what weariness of body and vexation of spirit did he lie down, 
 night after night, fatigued with profitless days of labour. There was 
 an eternity of promises on the part of the French executive ; they 
 dealt largely in the future tense, but it was impossible to screw them 
 to the present. It was always " We will." 
 
 The first accounts of Charles Edward's success were received with 
 considerable distrust, as liable to the high colouring of interested 
 partizans; but soon after Ned's arrival the news of the battle of 
 Prestonpans was received on undoubted authority, and then the 
 friends of the Stuarts, in Paris, were loud in exclaiming the time had 
 arrived to strike. But still the French government was ip no hurry. 
 If, in the former case, it would be imprudent to build hope of success 
 upon such questionable information, in the latter they were inclined 
 to trust the Prince would be the architect of his own fortune without 
 their aid ; the secret motive in both instances being their own, rather 
 than the Stuart interest. Whatever embarrassed England was gain 
 to them ; or, to use a phrase then in fashion, and which continued so 
 down to the time of Buonaparte, '' whatever made a diversion in favour 
 of France " was enough. Later accounts brought intelligence of Edin- 
 burgh being in quiet occupation of the Prince — next came news of his 
 advance into England — the French cabinet pleased to consider the game 
 won. Some trifling aid was now given ; a few troops, and many officers 
 of the Irish brigade, were allowed to volunteer in the cause, and scramble 
 over to Scotland in wretched transports; but nothing like effective 
 assitance arrived at the right moment. Ten thousand men from France 
 would have settled the question in the first instance. But no — they 
 dallied — George had withdrawn his English troops and several thousands 
 of his allies from the Low Countries, to defend his throne at home, and 
 left France to reap her military harvest of success in the Netherlands, 
 —and this was enough for France — the '' diversion " was made, and 
 Charles Edward was left to do as best he might. All through this 
 
282 £ S, d. 
 
 time how earnestly did Ned exert himself! but in vain. He lived in 
 one continued fever of excitement ; he was scarcely sane. 
 
 But now a change came over the fortunes of the Prince — the 
 untoward retreat from Derby was heard of, and then France thought 
 it necessary to keep up " the diversion " a little longer, and some 
 money and arms were forwarded ; but still the cry of the Stuart's 
 friends was for men — '•' Send an army," they said. 
 
 At length something like such a movement was intimated, and 
 Father Flaherty and Ned were in the beginning, middle, and end of 
 all sorts of machinations ; and finally an order was given to Edward 
 to start for the Low Countries, where he was commissioned to com- 
 municate with the chiefs of brigade in all matters of information or 
 assistance they should claim at his hands in connexion with an expedi- 
 tion to Scotland ; and Ned, in a delirium of joy, set out on his 
 mission, accompanied by Father Flaherty, than whom a stauncher 
 adherent of the Stuarts did not exist. They travelled day and night, 
 until they found themselves in Flanders, where they undertook 
 immediate communication with the military chiefs, who questioned 
 much, and referred again and again to the capital for fresh instructions: 
 but still no active measures were taken. 
 
 And now, news of the battle of Falkirk had arrived; — still the 
 Prince, weakened as he was, had beaten his enemies, and Ned 
 besought a timely aid — but it was not granted, and the chill of delay 
 was working discouragement to the cause in all quarters. And now 
 the duke of Cumberland, and his foreign brigades, had advanced on 
 Scotland. The Prince could no longer hold Edinburgh— he fell back 
 on the Highlands. — Alas ! the star of Charles Edward had set ! 
 
 A fever had been in Ned's blood for months. Excitement on 
 excitement had prevented it from being manifested in the shape of 
 downright malady. It might be said one fever had driven another 
 before it, and preserved him from disease. As long as the chance of 
 achieving good by his exertions was before him he kept up ; but when 
 he could do no more, the poison which had found vent in action 
 became malignant, and a fierce fever set in. 
 
 Fortunately the worthy Father Flaherty was in his company when 
 it first made its appearance, and he hastened to have him conveyed to 
 Bruges, where he got him put to bed ; but not till he was in a state of 
 high delirium. 
 
 For weeks poor Ned lay in fever, quite despaired of. He raved 
 alternately of love and war. Now he was boarding a ship; anon he was 
 calling on Ellen, in plaintive terms, to come and release him from 
 prison. Sometimes he fancied he was travelling speed to Paris, would 
 grasp the pillow suddenly and feel it, and, saying " all was right," put 
 it under his head with much care. One day, however, when the 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 283 
 
 nurse who attended him left the room for a moment, as he sunk 
 exhausted into a doze, he suddenly started up, and getting out of bed 
 laid hold of a knife, and on the nurse's return she found he had ripped 
 open the pillow, the feathers were flying about the room, and he 
 chasing them up and down, swearing all the time his letters had been 
 stolen, and that he would shoot the landlord. Father Flaherty 
 entering at the moment to inquire how the patient got on, Ned fell 
 on him, accusing him of being the villain who had stolen hig letters, 
 beating him with the pillow-case, and feathering the Father's black 
 garments in a most absurd manner. The priest ran out and shut the 
 door, and "raised the house" to help him to restore himself to a respect- 
 able appearance. 
 
 " I darn't show myself in the streets in this fashion," says the 
 Father, " sure man, woman, and child would be afther me ; and I with 
 a sick call on me, and can't go out in this figure. Maybe, nurse, you 
 could get another brush — the divil sweep him — with his pillow. God 
 forgi' me ! the poor mannyac ! Lord, look down on me ! — down, 
 indeed ; faith I'm as downy as a swan, or a goose, I may say. 'Pon my 
 word I'm more like a goose than a raven ; raven, indeed, faix it's he 
 that's the ravirC — that is the ravin' mad man," and the good-humoured 
 Father laughed at his own bad joke. " Hurry, hurry ! pick me, brush 
 away ! musha, I'll never be clane. I darn't appear in this figure in the 
 streets, they are so fond of scandal here ; and, indeed, I could not 
 blame them if they said it. Sure if I was rowl'd in a bed I could'nt 
 be worse." 
 
 Thus went on the Father for half an hour, while half a dozen people 
 were trying to restore him to his sable state, which, by dint of great 
 labour they did at last, and then the Father was hastening on his mis- 
 sion — his " sick call." But here, after all his annoyance, the gentle 
 spirit of the worthy man displayed itself. 
 
 " Stop," he said, " I forgot, the poor boy is raving about letters ; 
 we must try and soothe him." 
 
 He got some papers and made up a packet, which he sealed, and was 
 returning to the chamber to give it to Ned, when, as he reached the 
 door, he paused, and exclaimed, " By the powers, maybe he'd feather 
 me again — ow, ow ! that would never do. — Here jewel," said he, 
 handing the paper to the nurse, " take it to the crayture, and comfort 
 him ;" and away went the simple and benevolent priest. 
 
 The nurse on re-entering the chamber found her patient still 
 greatly excited on the subject of his lost letters ; but when she handed 
 the packet to him, he became calm at once, returned to bed, placed the 
 packet carefully under his head, and fell into a profound sleep. 
 
 Perhaps that little thoughtful act of kindness which the priest exer- 
 cised was the saving of Ned's life; it may have been the means of 
 
284 £ S, d. 
 
 procuring immediate repose at the critical moment. Ned slept for 
 eight-and-forty hours, and awoke free from fever. 
 
 As it usually happens in such cases, he was quite unconscious of all 
 that had occurred. The bed and room were strange to him — the view 
 from the window was not familiar — where was he ? As this question 
 was suggested in his mind, he heard a peal of bells, and the well- 
 remembered strain gave him the answer. He knew he was in Bruges; 
 that sweet chime — 
 
 " Most musical, most melancholy" — 
 
 recalled the memory of Ellen, and, with her, link by link, the chain 
 of circumstances was remembered, until the hour he fell sick. Here 
 the chain was broken — what had brought him there ? He stretched 
 forth his hand to draw the curtain of his bed, and the trifling action 
 seemed an exertion. His hand, too, was emaciated — the truth dawned 
 upon him — he had been ill. 
 
 His nurse now entered the room softly, but finding him awake, went 
 briskly up to the bed smiling, and congratulated him on his recovery. 
 It was Ernestine, Ned's friend on a former occasion ; he recognised 
 her, and asked many questions, but she told him he must be quiet, and 
 giving him a drink, which he took eagerly, left him. He soon fell 
 into that soft, momentary slumber which convalescents enjoy, during 
 which he dreamt of Ellen. He fancied they were in the Highlands, that 
 he was helping her to climb the heather-crowned cliffs; his arm was round 
 her waist to support her, until they gained the summit ; then they sat 
 down together, saying sweet things. He lay at her feet, admiring the 
 graceful outline of her reclining figure. She looked so kindly on him, 
 and so lovely — oh, so re?'?/ lovely ! He opened his eyes, and, in- 
 stead of the form his vision pictured, there was fat Madame Ghabble- 
 kramme, squatted beside the bed. 
 
 He shut his eyes again, with a feeling of disgust. 
 
 " Ha — you be goot agen now !" said she, " bote you foss ferra bat." 
 
 Ned made no answer. 
 
 " Me clat for dis ; {en youn bien goot, me bin clat ; and fen youn 
 bin gooter, me bin clatter, clatter, clatter!" 
 
 "Clatter, clatter, with a vengeance!" said Father Flaherty, who 
 entered in good time to save Ned from the old harridan's persecution ; 
 *' Madame, what brought you here at all?" 
 
 " Min come to 'muse him." 
 
 " Pretty amusement you are," said the priest. 
 
 *' Ya, Vader Fhirt, you know me ver grabble," (agreeable, she 
 would have said.) 
 
 " D— 1 grabble you," said Father Flaherty, losing all patience, 
 " go out o' this, and don't be disturbing the boy." 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 285 
 
 " Vader Flart, you bin alfays bat mans to me." 
 
 " Go down stairs, and don't make any more noise here," said the 
 father, disregarding her displeasure ; " you'd bother a rookery, so 
 you would." With these words, he made her leave the room, she 
 almost crying with vexation, ejaculating all the way down stairs, " bat 
 mans — Vader Flart — bat mans ! " 
 
 " What did you let that old bother up here for?" said the Father 
 to Ernestine, who came running up stairs. 
 
 Ernestine said the old woman had taken advantage of her back being 
 turned, and made her way to the young gentleman. 
 
 " Ay, indeed — the young gentleman," echoed the priest — " you 
 just said it. The young gentleman — bad luck to her, the ugly fat old 
 divil ! she is as great a fool about the young gentleman as if she was 
 eighteen years instead of eighteen stone — my heavy hathred to her! — 
 And now, Ned, my poor fellow, how goes it with you — you're wake, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 Ned gave a faint smile, as an answer to the question. 
 
 " Never mind that," said the priest, " now that you're well, we'll 
 soon get up the strength ; we'll give you the jelly, and the fish, and 
 the soup, and the nice white mate, and the dhrop o' claret. Whoo! — 
 by the powers, we'll make you live like a fighting-cock ! " 
 
286 
 
 £ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Father Flaherty's prophecy was fulfilled. Ned gathered strength 
 fast, even against the depressing influence of the evil tidings that soon 
 came pouring in from Scotland. At last the tragic drama was brought 
 to a close — the fatal field of Culloden was fought — and all that could 
 now be done was to let friendly ships hover about the Scottish coast 
 to pick up any stragglers who might escape the vengeance of the 
 savage soldiery, stimulated to the most sanguinary and revolting 
 excesses by the " butcher " * who commanded them — the atrocious 
 Duke of Cumberland, — whose memory is still execrated in the hills 
 and valleys he drenched with blood — not the hot blood of battle, but 
 the cold blood shed in ravening vengeance afterwards.f Not even the 
 blood of men would satisfy. Women and children were given up to 
 carnage and to indignities still worse than death.J Nor age, nor sex, 
 nor rank, was regarded. Every excess that could shock humanity 
 was in open practice every day ;— a licentious soldiery, foreign and 
 domestic, was let loose to do their worst — and not only do it with 
 impunity, but win favour for their atrocities in the eyes of their 
 merciless leader. 
 
 * " He left behind him in Scotland the name of the Butcher, and the people of 
 England, disgusted sooner than any other with cruelty, confirmed this title to the 
 hero of Culloden." — Pict. Hist. Eng. 
 
 " It was lately proposed in the city to present him with the freedom of some 
 company ; one of the aldermen said aloud, ' then let it be of the Butchers.' " — 
 Horace Walpole. 
 
 f " In many places the dispersed clans were hunted down like wild beasts — 
 tracked to their dens and holes in hill sides, and either burnt or smothered by 
 combustible materials lighted at the mouths of those crannies, or compelled to 
 come out to fall upon the bayonets and swords of their pursuers. The Duke had 
 declared that blood-letting was the best remedy, that every man that wore tJie tartan 
 in those parts was a rebel and traitor, whose body, soul, and goods were forfeited." 
 —Pict. Hist. Eng. 
 
 X " As a last touch to the harrowing picture, we may mention, what is asserted 
 on indisputable authority, that the Highland women Avere subjected to the last 
 indignity and brutality, and that their children were frequently shot, stabbed, or 
 thrown over the rocks." — Pict. Hist. Eng. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 287 
 
 The instant his strength permitted, Ned embarked in a French 
 vessel employed in the charitable act of hovering about Scotland, and 
 atfording refuge to the fugitives who could escape their hunters. In 
 this duty, as he heard from time to time, from the lips of eye-wit- 
 nesses, the recitals of blood and depravity in course of constant com- 
 mission, how his heart was lacerated — how his imagination heaped 
 horror on horror that might have befallen those who were so dear to 
 him ! Had Lynch fallen a victim to the cold-blooded carnage ? Or 
 
 was Ellen? Oh, horror! — to think of her was to go distracted ; 
 
 — he endeavoured to exclude such appalling imaginings from his mind, 
 but still the fearful picture would intrude ; — he saw her flying from 
 some pursuer whose hands were red with her father's blood — he heard 
 her screams as the murderer gains upon her — his rufiian arm is round 
 
 her waist — she writhes in the grasp of the libertine 'twas too 
 
 much for the mind to sustain. Thus excited, he would press his 
 clenched hands to his burning forehead, gnash his teeth, and groan 
 again with mental agony. He was on the very verge of madness. 
 
 All the inquiries he made of every fugitive who reached the vessel 
 were fruitless — he could hear no certain tidings of Lynch and his 
 daughter, and his state of suspense became so insupportable, that he 
 at one time proposed landing and seeking them himself ; but this 
 was represented to him, by those who knew the state of the country, 
 as only a wilful throwing away of his own life without the 
 remotest chance of serving his friends, and he abandoned so mad a 
 project. But the exertions he made to get off all fugitives from the 
 land were prodigious. There was no risk he did not run with the 
 boats, whenever tidings were heard of parties hanging about the shore 
 for escape, in the hope that Ellen might be among them, but in vain. 
 
 The vessel became crowded with refugees, and still had Ned to 
 endure the agonies of suspense. The captain, finding his ship so full, 
 proposed running to the Flemish coast, landing his passengers, and 
 returning again to the service of humanity ; but Ned prevailed on him 
 to wait another day. Intelligence was had of some refugees who pro- 
 posed attempting their escape on board the Frenchman the next night, 
 and as a lady was reported to be amongst them, Ned would not give up 
 the chance of finding in this fugitive his beloved Ellen. 
 
 The point being ascertained where the attempt would be made, 
 the vessel ran in under the land when it was dark, and Ned, with a 
 boat well armed, pushed off. The signal-light was seen to glimmer on 
 the shore ; with muffled oars they pulled silently into an inlet, and 
 the hunted adherents of the ill-fated Stuarts came from their hiding- 
 places among the rocks. Foremost of the party was a wounded man, 
 supported by two companions towards the boat, and passed along by 
 the assistance of the sailors to the stern sheets, where Ned had charge 
 
288 £ S. d. 
 
 of the helm ; but how was he startled, when, in extending his hand to 
 the wounded stranger, and placing him beside him, he recognised in 
 his pale and haggard face the features of Kirwan ! 
 
 Ned's heart bounded with expectancy ! From Kirwan's presence he 
 was certain the reported lady of the party would turn out to be Ellen ; 
 but as yet no lady appeared, though several persons had entered the 
 boat. 
 
 " Push off now," said the last who embarked. 
 
 *' Avast ! " said Ned, who turned to Kirwan, and asked, in a voice 
 which quivered with anxiety, " is not Miss Lynch of your party?" 
 
 " Yesterday," replied Kirwan, faintly, and manifestly speaking with 
 difficulty, " yesterday she was — but — but — " 
 
 " But what ?" cried Ned, ^' answer — for God's sake, answer !" 
 
 The answer was, the heavy fall of Kirwan's lifeless corse upon 
 Edward's breast. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Edward's feelings were wrought to the last pitch of excitement. 
 His rival who, when last they met, had dared him to the death, was 
 now lying lifeless in his arms ; and she for whom they fought, per- 
 chance, was dead also. If not, her life was at least in peril ; a wanderer 
 in the Highland wilds, separated from the party with whom she had 
 been seeking for escape, and hunted by merciless pursuers. The 
 words of the dying man yet rang in Edward's ear — " She was 
 
 yesterday, but ." Oh, fearful break, that death had made in the 
 
 sentence ! What agonizing uncertainty left behind ! And, as an 
 appalling array of possibilities respecting Ellen rushed through Ned's 
 brain, he almost wished to exchange fates with his rival : his agony 
 was over— he died, too, with her name on his lips ; under such cir- 
 cumstances, far better was the fate of the dead than the living. 
 " Rather would I die thus than live without her," was the internal 
 form of thought beneath which Edward groaned aloud, heedless of the 
 calls of the sailors if they should push off, he being in command of the 
 boat. He heard them not — his thoughts were with his beloved one, 
 and so hopeless seemed her fate, that his brain reeled under its over- 
 wrought action, and he sank backwards, insensible as the corse under 
 which he fell. 
 
 Immediate assistance was offered; but the kindly offices were 
 suddenly disturbed by the approaching clatter of horses' feet and the 
 clank of arms, showing, too plainly, that the dragoons were upon 
 them, and no time was lost in shoving the boat from the shore and 
 pulling vigorously out to sea ; not, however, before the troop had time 
 to send a volley after the fugitives: but darkness favouring their retreat, 
 the fire was ineffective, while, the flash of the guns from the beach 
 betraying the position of the pursuers, the arms of the boat were em- 
 ployed with more effect in returning the compliment, while the soldier's 
 fire could not produce the same fatal result to them, as the boat was 
 shifting her position every moment. The well-plied oars, however, 
 soon placed the enemies out of each other's range, and the speed, 
 urged by danger in the first instance, was now continued for 
 
2i)0 £ s. d. 
 
 humanity's sake, as tliey wished to reach the vessel as soon ag 
 possible, to obtain the needful assistance for Ned, who still lay insen- 
 sible in the bottom of the boat, a faint breathing being the only 
 indication of life he retained. Consciousness soon returned, however, 
 under the restoratives employed when he was placed aboard, and he 
 began to gaze wildly round the cabin, whither he had been borne. 
 After asking a few incoherent questions, he became fully sensible of 
 all that had taken place, and inquired if Kirwan were dead or had 
 only fainted from loss of blood. On being answered that he was 
 dead, he exclaimed, " Then I shall never know her fate," and hid his 
 face in his hands. It was with much persuasion he was prevailed on 
 to go to his berth ; but he could not sleep. All through the night he 
 thought of nothing but scenes of outrage, and when, towards morning, 
 exhausted with mental anguish, he sank into a doze, it was only to 
 dream of darker horrors. He rose, with haggard cheek and sunken 
 eye, and ascended to the deck, where, at so early an hour, none but 
 those doing the duty of the ship were present, therefore he might 
 pursue his melancholy train of thoughts undisturbed. On casting a 
 look astern, the Scottish shore was no longer visible, and a glance at 
 the compass showed him they were running down for the Flemish 
 coast. On exchanging a few words with the officer of the watch, he 
 learned that the body of Kirwan had been committed to the deep at 
 midnight ; and Ned, even under an affliction which touched him 
 nearer, could not resist the influence of the passing regret for the fate 
 of the gallant, handsome fellow he had left in health and vigour a few 
 months ago. It flashed upon his memory, also, that two years before, 
 in that very sea, he had snatched him from the watery grave to 
 which he was now consigned ; and there seemed to him a strange 
 fatality in this coincidence. " He has been strangely mixed up," 
 thought Ned, " in all that has influenced my destiny. He was with 
 her the first night we met, and his last words were of her when he 
 departed. He was my rival through life — that thought was my terror 
 and my torment. In death, his broken answer is a fresh agony ; 
 leaving me in uncertainty, less endurable than the worst knowledge I 
 could arrive at. His rivalry I have outlived, — but, ah ! does the 
 prize for which we contended still exist ? " He groaned in mental 
 anguish at the question, and turned from the lieutenant to pursue his 
 walk in silence. The Captain soon after came on deck, and handed 
 some papers, found on Kirwan's person, to Ned, as he seemed the only 
 person on board who knew anything of the deceased. Ned anxiously 
 opened them, hoping he might discover some clue to Kirwan's recent 
 movements, and thence be more able to infer something of Ellen's 
 fate ; as, from his dying words, it was clear he had borne her company 
 but the day before lie died. The first document was a commission in 
 
TREASURE TROA'^E. 291 
 
 the Irish brigade ; but, on the fold of a letter within it, Edward 
 recognised Ellen's handwriting, and eagerly opened the paper. He 
 paused for an instant, the internal monitor — honour — suggesting the 
 question if he were justified in reading it ; but the circumstances of 
 uncertainty in which he was placed, satisfied his conscience that he 
 committed no violation of propriety by the act, and he read. 
 
 " You complain of my recent coldness, and appeal to our long 
 friendship in your behalf, claiming, on that score, a gentler considera- 
 tion at my hands. Had you been content with me as a friend, you 
 should have ever found me the same — unchanged and unchangeable. 
 Even when taking the extreme advantage of the position in which my 
 father's favour placed you, you urged me by a question always painful 
 to both of us, I never denied you the friendship beyond which I could 
 not go ; nay, I pardoned even importunity, and abated not my regard: 
 but when you assumed the right to question others on the subject of 
 their esteem for me, you committed an offence which you cannot 
 wonder I feel deeply. 
 
 " To tell you all the pain I have endured at my name being made the 
 subject of a brawl, would be to tire you with a repetition of my own 
 daily suffering. The circumstances under which it occurred, and the 
 high personage offended by it, have made it a matter of provoking 
 notoriety ; such affairs as these tend to lessen the respect which the 
 unobtrusiveness, properly belonging to maidenhood^ is sure to main- 
 tain, and which, till now, I have never forfeited. I fancy I hear 
 myself pointed out for observation, as " the girl the two fellows fougJit 
 dbout,'^ and shrink at the impertinent glances of the hot-headed 
 mad-caps who are about us. Oh, how could you respect me so little 
 as to reduce me to this ? 
 
 " Nevertheless, I forgive you, — for my father's sake, and the sake 
 of old friendship ; but, remember, it is friendship only. Ask me no 
 more questions of any sorty — if you do, even the friendship which I 
 still bear you must cease. For the future, let there be kindness, but, 
 also, silence between us on one point. You understand me, and ought 
 to know me well enough to be certain I will hold to my resolution. 
 Once and for all, remember — we are friends; how long we remain so 
 depends upon yourself. 
 
 " Ellen." 
 
 The information Ned sought was not here, and the thought that 
 Ellen, in his absence, was true to him, while it gave momentary plea- 
 sure, but aggravated the misery of losing a heart so faithful. " Oh, 
 why was I not there to guard her ! " thought Ned. A passing 
 thought of pity was given, also, to his departed rival. " Poor fellow," 
 
 V 2 
 
292 JC S\ cL 
 
 he half muttered, " poor fellow, these lines of her's, even though they 
 condemned him to despair, he could not part with." He now opened 
 the second paper ; let the reader judge how his heart sank as he read 
 the terrible lines. 
 
 " Dear Kir wan, 
 
 " We will meet you at the pass tomorrow, and run the risk of reach- 
 ing the coast ; better anything than this uncertainty of concealment. 
 One thought alone oppresses me, too painful to speak of, even to you — 
 almost too terrible for myself to think of — therefore I write my wish 
 before we meet. In case of attack from the military our party will 
 fight to the death, of course, and Ellen must be under your especial 
 care. For this purpose I enjoin you to keep where there is least 
 of danger during the fight. If we prosper, (which God grant !) it is 
 well ; if not, (and the Divine will be done !) my lovely girl must not 
 survive defeat. To your hand, then, I entrust this last and dreadful 
 act of friendship ; as I would have given her to you for life, so do I 
 for death, if needful — the more difficult trust to dicharge. But I 
 enjoin you, by every tie of honour and humanity, set her pure spirit 
 free. "Were there no other hand to do it, I would emulate Yirginius ; 
 but you will spare me so fearful a task : I know you will. God help 
 us ! we live in fearful times, when a father thinks it virtue to con- 
 template the death of his own beloved child — and, oh, how I love 
 her! 1 cannot venture to write another word. 
 
 " Remember — I depend on you. 
 
 " Martin Lynch." 
 
 These dreadful lines scarcely left a hope. The father's terrible 
 injunction to Kirwan, in case of disaster, stood fearfully prominent, 
 under existing circumstances, to the coldest conjecture; what, then, 
 must the heated imagination of a lover have conjured up. Defeat was 
 the signal for Ellen's death — and that defeat had manifestly ensued, 
 Kirwan's wounds were but too palpable evidence. Ned burst forth 
 into a passion of grief, which he found it impossible to control. His 
 actions partook more of a madman than a reasonable being : flinging 
 himself on the deck, he gave himself up to the wildest despair, 
 exclaiming, in the intervals of his wailing, " She's gone ! she's gone ! 
 gone for ever ! " Then would he call upon her name ; then accuse 
 himself for having ever left her, and ask, why fate had not granted that 
 he should have been with her in the moment of danger; and, finally, 
 called on Heaven to grant him a speedy release from his misery, by 
 permitting him to find an early grave. As this thought of existence 
 being a burden passed through his mind, his eye rested on the deep 
 waters around him, and, with an expression of so dark a meaning, that 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 293 
 
 the Captain, who had been seeking to soothe him for some time, laid his 
 hand emphatically on his shoulder, and bade him summon his fortitude, 
 reminding him it had been well said, there was as much honour to be 
 gained in sustaining the assaults of misfortune, as in standing unflinch- 
 ingly before an enemy's fire. " I know you would never desert your 
 gun," he said, " nor must you strike your colours to evil fortune." 
 
 In addition to such good advice, however, the Captain ordered a 
 sharp eye to be kept upon Ned, for his mind for a period seemed to 
 have sunk under the weight of his grief, and he scarcely exchanged a 
 word with one of his companions ; when he did, it was but to bewail 
 his fate and wish himself dead. 
 
 In the meantime the vessel made Ostend, and the fugitives who 
 had escaped the slaughter debarked, and the ship prepared to return 
 to the Scottish coast, further to pursue the cause of charity in which 
 she had been engaged. The Captain proposed to Edward to continue 
 in this service, suggesting, that he might yet recover his apparently 
 lost friends, and that, even in case of failure, the mere occupation 
 would be beneficial to him ; but Edward refused ever again to approach 
 the land which had proved so fatal to his hopes ; for he had given 
 himself ^up to the conviction that Ellen had perished, and, taking a 
 sad farewell of the ship and his companions, he returned to Bruges, 
 and sought his old friend. Father Flaherty. 
 
 Sad was the meeting between the priest and the lover, for the 
 venerable ecclesiastic loved Ellen with almost a father's affection, and, 
 in the bitterness of his grief, Ned had ample communion of sorrow. 
 But his sacred calling had taught the priest to bow, in humbleness of 
 heart, to the decrees of Heaven, and Edward found, in the words and 
 example of the christian minister, a consolation which soothed his 
 spirit, and made grief, though not less deep, more tolerable. The 
 Father bade him even not to despair ; that though presumptive evidence 
 was strong of the fatal termination of the attempt to escape, on the 
 part of Lynch and his daughter, yet it was not positively ascertained ; 
 and, until then, it was but christian-like to hope that Heaven might 
 have shown its mercy to the fugitives, and interposed divine protec- 
 tion between them and their merciless pursuers. But, while the 
 Father exhorted his young friend to hope, his manner showed that the 
 reed, on which he would have another lean, was too slender to support 
 himself. Poor Father Flaherty ! he was too simple to impose upon 
 any one. The imposition he would have practised on Ned was an 
 amiable one; he would have turned his thoughts to the future, to 
 make him escape from the pain of the present. " The poor boy will 
 get more used to the grief every day," he would say to himself, " and 
 in his first bitter sorrow, sure anything that can cheat him out of it, 
 is a mercy." 
 
294 £ S, (1. 
 
 But the Father's manner could not have cheated a child. It was 
 too plain he thought all hope was past ; and Ned, when alone, would 
 repeat to himself, " Though he bids me hope, he thinks she is dead." 
 Then would he fall into a reverie, and ask, " Could it so be ? Was 
 she indeed no more ? The beautiful and bright, in an instant snatched 
 away — the object and motive of his life — that for which he had dared, 
 and hoped, and struggled, and achieved so much — vanished like a 
 dream? Could he be doomed to so wretched a fate?" His soul 
 shrunk from the bitter belief, and the faintest glimmer of hope 
 would be welcome to his darkness : — she might yet live. Then would 
 he pursue that phantom, created of his wishes, till his exhausted 
 heart sunk in the fruitless chase, and his reverie would end, as it had 
 begun, with the melancholy phrase, " She is dead!" 
 
 This turmoil of the heart and mind was sapping the very sources 
 of his life ; yet to this, his dark reverie, must he daily go, and endure 
 the chain and whip of that mental prison of the afflicted soul. 
 
 From such captivity the kindness of his reverend friend would 
 often lead him forth. Father Flaherty would insist on having 
 him for the companion of his walks, and making him join in 
 the inquiries he instituted respecting the affairs in Scotland. They 
 asked daily at the Convent of the Assumption, where Ellen had 
 told Edward he would at all times be most likely to hear of her ; but 
 they could give no tidings. When fugitives from the devoted land 
 arrived from time to time, they were closely questioned respecting all 
 affairs most interesting to Edward, but no word of promise was 
 gathered. It was positively asserted that the Prince was yet in 
 Scotland, hiding in the wilds, with a few devoted adherents — so few 
 that they could tell their individual names, and Lynch was not among 
 them. They said, besides, that very few more might be expected to 
 reach Flanders, for few were left to make the attempt. This was sad 
 news ; but it was told, at the same time, that a good number of fugitives 
 had succeeded in getting off to Ireland, and this held out some slight 
 hope to Edward. If Ellen and her father had been of those who 
 escaped, the mountains of Gal way would be the quarter where they 
 would most likely have sought shelter, and there Edward determined 
 to seek them ; for, though he looked upon the search as almost hope- 
 less, still he would not abandon the remotest chance of recovering his 
 lost loved one. Father Flaherty thought less of the chance than even 
 Ned, but he kept that to himself ; for, as he thought, if it did no other 
 good, it woijld give " the poor boy" something to do, and " divart 
 the grief." Ned, therefore, made his arrangements for crossing the 
 Channel — that passage he had so often made in danger and difficulty, 
 but now more dangerous than ever ; and taking a sad, but affectionate, 
 leave of the kind-hearted priest, committed himself to the waves, 
 followed by the Father's prayers and blessing. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 295 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 As our hero is on his way to Ireland, a brief glance at its political 
 position, at that moment, is necessary. I think I hear the reader say, 
 *' The author forgets he had a chapter a little while ago on that very 
 subject — all about the liberal Earl of Chesterfield." Softly, gentle 
 reader — so I had : but that was a year ago, — a year of tranquillity 
 and justice in Ireland, — things too rare and precious to let Ireland 
 have too much of, so the liberal Earl of Chesterfield was recalled, and 
 poor Ireland flung back into the state of brutalizing thraldom, from 
 which his enlightened policy would have led her forth to take her 
 place among the nations. 
 
 The word of an Irishman is naturally regarded with suspicion 
 when he alludes to the wrongs under which his country has suffered ; 
 it is well, therefore, to guarantee the statement with the voice of 
 history, and the historian who speaks is a Protestant pluralist clergy- 
 man.* From such a quarter no one need apprehend a flattering 
 colouring in favour of Irish affairs. And what says the Rev. James 
 Gordon when speaking of Chesterfield's departure ? — *' The boon to 
 Ireland of such a governor, as it had been extorted from the British 
 Cabinet by the necessity of circumstances, was recalled as soon as that 
 necessity ceased. Nine days after the total rout of the rebels in the 
 battle of CuUoden, which was fought on the sixteenth of April, 1746, 
 the amiable Stanhope departed from this kingdom, deeply regretted 
 by the nation, who, as a mark of gratitude, placed his bust, at the 
 public expense, in the castle of Dublin.f 
 
 On the Earl of Chesterfield being withdrawn from the Irish ad- 
 ministration, the foulest sluices of political rancour, pent up for a time 
 and becoming more pestilent from their stagnancy, were reopened, 
 and deluged society. The cry against the Catholics became fiercer 
 
 * Rev. James Gordon. 
 
 t In our own days a statue by public subscription was the deserved tribute paid 
 by the Irish people to the memory of Mr. Drummond — that sound statesman, who 
 promulgated a large principle in a small sentence, — " Property has its duties as well 
 as its rights." At the assertion of this undeniable fact a great many landlords 
 were angry, — of course not the good ones. A bad cause is always damaged by 
 truth. 
 
'29(') £ 6'. (i. 
 
 than ever; and the rising just quelled in Scotland having been indus- 
 triously branded by the ministerialists in England as a popish rebellion, 
 advantage was taken of the anti-popish prejudice thus excited, and 
 every violence permitted by the penal laws was resorted to by the 
 dominant party in Ireland. At the head of this party was the 
 primate, George Stone, a man so utterly regardless of every moral and 
 religious obligation, that nothing can be stronger proof of the pros- 
 tration of public opinion in Ireland at that day, and the outrages on 
 propriety a government might then commit, than the fact of such a 
 man being at the head of the Irish church — a man in whose life, 
 religion, morality, and common decency were openly violated.* 
 
 Indeed, the then government of Ireland exercised a nearly unlimited 
 tyranny. So strong were they, that the Lord -Lieutenant ventured to 
 refuse the Commons' House of Parliament to forward to the King some 
 resolutions they had passed, and an adjournment of the house and 
 their declared determination to transact no more public business until 
 their document was forwarded, were the only means left them of 
 reducing the viceroy to his duty. 
 
 When government ventured to deal thus with the protestant par- 
 liament, it may be supposed how they trampled on the catholic 
 people of Ireland. The tone of her rulers encouraged every petty 
 tyrant to indulge in excess. Every brutal fellow who could only fancy 
 his own elevation by the oppression he exercised, swaggered more than 
 ever over his catholic neighbour ; and to those whose appetites were 
 keen enough for something more, the amusement of " priest hunting" 
 offered even blood. 
 
 Such was the state of the kingdom when Ned returned to it. He 
 had been absent now for some years ; and, while witnessing the 
 freedom and prosperity of other lands, had forgotten the slavery and 
 wretchedness of his own. In thus saying " forgotten," it is not meant 
 to accuse Ned of being deficient in love of country, — far from it. But 
 he had left Ireland too young to know much about national affairs ; 
 and the vivid impressions he had received of all he had since seen in 
 the world, were well calculated to fill the mind of a young man with 
 new ideas, whose freshness would be likely to throw the old into 
 oblivion. He left his country when he had but just stepped out "of 
 boyhood, when sports formed the theme for thought : that age when 
 the mind cannot properly comprehend the nature of political de- 
 gradation. He only knew that going to mass was a thing to be done 
 
 * Regardless of his ptistoral duties, and solely intent on politics, he sacrificed 
 religion and morality to the gaining and confirming of adherents .... To depre- 
 ciate the protestant religion in a country of catholics, by placing such a man at the 
 head of the church, and employing him as the engine of intrigue, "vvas not con- 
 sistent with sound policy.— i?ey. James Gordon's Hist. Ireland. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 297 
 
 in secret, as if it was some deed that honest people ought to be 
 ashamed of. Still this hidden thing he had been taught to love, and it 
 was mixed up with his earliest recollections of a mother's fondness and 
 gentleness, and, so far, had a hold upon his heart; but it may be 
 remembered that Ned's early love of gentility made him recoil from 
 the " low" things of this world, and what could be lower than the 
 position of a Catholic in Ireland at that period ? And it was not 
 until he had seen his religion in all its pomp and power abroad that 
 he worshipped with satisfaction. In this lapse of time while he 
 had been away he ceased to remember that a catholic in Ireland was a 
 degraded being ; at least, the fact held no prominent position in his 
 thoughts, and when he was approaching Galway no one idea respecting 
 religious matters troubled Ned. His head and heart were otherwise 
 occupied ; the features of the neighbouring scenery recalled the 
 memories of other days ; and these, the closer he got to his native 
 town, became so multiplied, that he forgot the business of the present 
 hour and lived over again through the past. He passed the gates, 
 and prepared to meet his father, — that father to whom he had 
 certainly not behaved well — whom he had left at a time when the 
 old man might have expected a helping hand from his child ; and Ned, 
 suffering at the moment under wounded feelings of his own, was more 
 calculated to sympathize with the griefs of another. " Poor old man," 
 thought Ned ; " I have not acted well by him, but I will ask his 
 pardon in humbleness of heart now. God knows how often he may 
 have wanted the helping hand of a son." 
 
 The thought had scarcely birth, when his father suddenly appeared 
 before him ; but as he was crossing the street he did not see Ned, 
 whose sudden surprise took away his self-possession for a moment, and 
 left him undecided as to what he should do. His first impulse was to 
 follow, and at once speak to him ; but on second thoughts he paused. 
 " I cannot, nor ought not, embrace him until I have asked his pardon," 
 said Ned to himself ; " and as the street will not do for that, I had 
 better wait till I see him at home." He followed, however, at a dis- 
 tance, and watched the old man as he plodded onwards towards the 
 Exchange. He was a good deal altered since his son had seen him 
 last. ' His hair had grown grey, and he had become more bent; his 
 step, too, was slower, and less steady, and his whole aspect had a 
 subdued air about it, which spoke of suffering. The unpleasant 
 question suggested itself to Ned, " If he had any part in producing 
 this ;" and his heart smote him, and an inward promise was made that 
 he would endeavour to make amends in the future for the past. 
 
 Just then a burly, swaggering person, with a large gold-headed cane 
 and a laced coat, going the same road as old Corkery, brushed rudely 
 by him, and made the old man stagger against the wall. 
 
298 £ S. d. 
 
 " What an insolent ruffian," thought Ned, " to shove against an 
 old man in that manner. I'd like to kick him." 
 
 The old man against whom the offence was committed seemed to 
 take the affair as a matter of course, and plodded on as if nothing had 
 happened. Indeed, so lost was he in some melancholy musings re- 
 specting the sad condition in which old age had overtaken him, 
 without one of his own blood to aid him, that he forgot even the 
 business of the Exchange, whither he was proceeding ; and this state 
 of absence continued even after he had entered that place 
 
 " Where merchants most do congregate ;" 
 
 for he had forgotten to take off his hat, which, as a catholic, he was 
 bound to do : none but protestants having the privilege of remaining 
 covered in this place of trade. 
 
 He did not wait long, however, without some one " refreshing his 
 memory ;" for the identical swaggering gentleman with the gold- 
 headed cane came up to him, and, with a fanciful flourish of the afore- 
 said cane, knocked off old Corkery's hat. 
 
 Ned, who had followed his father, arrived just in time to witness 
 the act. The same bully who had shoved the old man against the 
 wall had committed a fresh and grosser offence ; and instantly the 
 indignant son rushed upon him, and, shouting forth the words 
 " Insolent scoundrel !" he struck his clenched fist into the face of the 
 offender, and upset laced coat, hat, wig, and dignitary, (for he was 
 one of the great men of the corporation,) and the uproar that arose on 
 his fall baffles description. 
 
 Old Corkery had quietly stooped, without one word of remon- 
 strance, to take up his hat, 
 
 " For sufferance was the badge of all his tribe," 
 
 like the poor buffeted Jew in Venice ; but, before he could recover it, 
 he saw the bloated bully who had abused him struck down at his feet, 
 and beheld his son in his avenger. But was the feeling one of justi- 
 fiable triumph, as it ought to have been, that his grey hairs had found 
 a protector in the vigorous arm of his athletic boy ? Ah, no ! He 
 only saw that his son had laid himself open to the vengeance of the 
 powerful for daring to resent a paltry and senseless tyranny ; the law 
 of nature should give place before the law of Galway ; he had no right 
 
 to protect his father from insult : because he was a catholic. 
 
 Here, again, we find the parallel to the persecuted Jew of Venice, 
 who, smarting under the wrongs and indignities heaped upon him, in 
 passionate pleading, asks, after enumerating them — 
 
 " And for what ? — Because I am a Jew ! " 
 
 If the Jews first persecuted the Christians, the Christians certainly 
 
S> • S^AnK/T ^^ ' 
 
 ^7/ 
 
 /,c^ 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 299 
 
 returned the compliment with a vengeance, and it would seem that the 
 practice of it engendered an enduring love for the article, for they 
 have been exchanging it among themselves at various times ever since. 
 
 But to return to the uproar on the 'Change. Several ran to the 
 assistance of the fallen corporator, while others attempted to lay hold 
 of Ned, amidst cries of, " Dowfi with him I " *' Seize him ! " But he, 
 whose thews and sinews were braced by hardy service, knocked down 
 the lumbering merchants " like nine-pins," and strewed the pave- 
 ment of ihe Exchange with wigs and cocked hats ; but, observing the 
 approach of some liveried gentlemen, carrying long poles of office, 
 Ned saw further fight was impossible, so he turned to the right about 
 and showed them a fast pair of heels for it. The hue and cry was 
 raised after him — a regular " Philiilew !" but, intimate as he was with 
 every lane and alley of the town, he left his pursuers far behind him, 
 and soon had perfect choice to go unobserved whither he would. At 
 first he thought of his father's house ; but it was likely that would be 
 searched : for Ned by this time remembered where he was, and the 
 consequences attendant on his act. He turned in an opposite direc- 
 tion, therefore, and walked smartly into the fish-market, where, by the 
 quay side, he could find some boat to take him over to the Cladagh, 
 that sure sanctuary for any gentleman in his circumstances. 
 
 While he was thus providing for his safety, the ferment on 'Change 
 increased; and, as is usual in such matters, was increased by the very 
 people who had least to do with it — the timid, talking folk, who, 
 while the active ones were trying to capture Ned, called out lustily to 
 .encourage them, shouted, " Down with him !" and inquired, " Who is 
 he?" But neither ejaculation nor question were successful, for Ned 
 had got ofi" in triumph, and nobody could tell who he was. 
 
 Nobody but one, and he, of course, would not. This was his 
 father, who, in the first glance he caught of him, knew his boy, 
 improved in appearance as he was, almost beyond recognition. The 
 blusterers crowded round old Corkery, and desired him to tell who 
 the scoundrel was who dared to raise his hand against a Protestant 
 gentleman, but the father pleaded ignorance. 
 
 " You're a lying old crawthumper ! " cried one. 
 
 " Not a one o' me knows, indeed, gentlemen," said Corkery. 
 . " I'd make him tell ! " cried another, " I'd give him some holy 
 water under the pump." 
 
 " Sure, you are all witness I made no complaint when my hat was 
 knocked off." 
 
 " D — n your impudence !'* exclaimed a third speaker. " Complaint, 
 indeed! What right have you to complain? Of course it was 
 knocked off, when you dared to show your Papist face here with your 
 
300 £ s. d, 
 
 " I beg your pardon, gentlemen — I quite forgot — my poor owld 
 head was thinking of one thing or another, and it was a forget, and 
 nothing else, that kept the hat on me." 
 
 " But you can tell who the ruffian is who knocked down Mister 
 Simcox ? " 
 
 *• Not a one o' me knows — 'deed and'deed !" 
 
 *' Some o' them Jackybites," cried another, " them ignorant Jacky- 
 bites, that would support arbitherary power and uphold tyeranny. 
 I tell you what it is, we'll have no justice, nor right, nor law, nor 
 freedom in the land until every thieving papist in it is hanged." 
 
 " I b'lieve you I" cried several voices. 
 
 " Plats, indeed ! " continued the orator. " By the holy " 
 
 " Don't swear, brother," interposed a merchant, who was of a 
 puritanical turn. 
 
 " Brother," returned the orator, " one must relieve their mind with 
 an oath now and then, and by this and that : talking of hats, I say, 
 that as long as them Papists is left heads we'll have no pace ! God 
 forgive you, Oliver Cromwell, for that saying of yours, when you tould 
 them to go to hell or Connaught. Sure they preferred Connaught, 
 and signs on it — its full o' them — as full as a tick — and, until we weed 
 them out, there will be no pace. Down with them, I say." 
 
 The cry was echoed by the bystanders, who were now all Protest- 
 ants ; for any Catholics who had been on 'Change thought it wiser to 
 retire. Corkery alone was left among the knot of corporators, who, 
 inflamed by their own words, looked upon him with evil eyes, the 
 orator in particular, who at last snatched his hat from him and 
 trampled it under his feet, crying, " That's the way I'd sarve you ! 
 that's the way I'd trample them undher my feet, all the d— d Papists 
 in Ireland. Down with them ! " 
 
 He danced on the hat while he spoke, or rather foamed his words, 
 and, influenced by his brutal example, some of the most violent of his 
 way of thinking began to hustle the unoffending old man, and it is 
 hard to say how the affiiir might have terminated, had not the mayor 
 chanced to come on the 'Change during the commotion, and inter- 
 fered to prevent a breach of the peace. 
 
 As soon as he had succeeded in preventing further personal vio- 
 lence to poor Corkery, he called him to a severe account for his 
 " outrageous conduct," as he was pleased to call it. 
 
 The old man opened his eyes in amazement at such an address, 
 after his being cuffed and buffeted by others, who were not blamed in 
 the least, and this he humbly put forward to his worship. 
 
 To this the mayor answered, that whatever had occurred he had no 
 one to blame for it but himself, and that he should summon him 
 regularly before him to answer for his conduct, in having provoked a 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 301 
 
 riot and breach of the peace on the high 'Change of the ancient and 
 loyal town of Galway, by a gross and daring violation of its laws and 
 privileges, as he was determined to uphold the same, and let the 
 Papists see that they should not display their insolence within his 
 jurisdiction. The 'Change was then cleared by the mayor's order, 
 the party of the upper hand talking in knots, as they retired, of the 
 necessity of some strong measures to keep down the demon of popery, 
 while poor old Dennis Corkery took his course home, trembling for the 
 fate of Ned, in case he should be taken. Many a prayer he put up 
 for his escape, and when he reached his home, he did not know whether 
 to sorrow or rejoice — his son was not there. Soon, however, he had 
 reason toibe glad, for a search was made by the mayor's orders, and 
 the myrmidons of office did it as rudely as they could, with plenty of 
 insolent words to the old man. 
 
 Yet while Ireland was in the state this chapter indicates, England 
 would not admit that she had cause for discontent. The phrase of the 
 time was, that " the discontent the face of Ireland wore was coloured 
 by caprice and faction." 
 
 How capricious ! 
 
 I 
 
302 £ s. d. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Ned, in the mean time, had made his way over the river and 
 went to the cottage of the fisherman, where Lynch had sheltered 
 on that eventful night which witnessed the initiatory step of Ned into 
 the regions of romance. The fisherman was not at home ; but his 
 wife, who was mending a net at the door, told Edward she soon 
 expected his return, and, Ned proposing to wait for him, tlfe woman 
 rose, and inviting our hero to enter, dusted a rude chair with her 
 apron, and requested him to be seated. A fine little boy was tying a 
 piece of rag on a skewer, which he had stuck into a flat piece of wood, 
 the whole representing boat, mast, and sail to his juvenile fancy ; the 
 toy of the child indicating the future occupation of the man. The 
 little fisherman in embryo paused in his work on the entrance of the 
 stranger, whom he eyed with a furtive sidelong glance under his little 
 brow. 
 
 The mother resumed her work at the door, but soon laid it down 
 and went away. She turned into a neighbour's cottage and asked 
 her, would she "just run up to the corner, and watch for her 
 husband coming home, and give him the * hard word' that there 
 was a strange gentleman waiting for him at home ; for sure there was 
 no knowing whether he would like to see him or not — because they 
 were queer times, and hard times." After this precaution she 
 returned to the door and resumed her work. In a few minutes one 
 neighbour after another came up to where she sat, and looked keenly 
 into the house at Ned while they spoke to the mistress, and having 
 reconnoitred, passed on. Ned knew too much of the habits of the 
 people not to see he was an object of observation, if not of suspicion ; 
 but, aware that to betray such a knowledge on his part would be to 
 confirm their bad opinion of him, he waited his opportunity for letting 
 them understand him. This occurred ere long, for a large-boned, 
 dark-browed man soon came up to the door, and, after giving the 
 civil word to the woman of the house, strode into it, with the words, 
 " God save all here ! " 
 
 Ned frankly returned the accustomed response of " God save you 
 kindly ! " at which the aspect of the man became softened, and, after 
 ■exchanging a few words with Ned, he walked out again. 
 
 At last the man of the house himself returned, and Ned rose to 
 meet him. The fisherman did not recognise him, but a few words 
 from Ned recalled him to his memory. On the mention of Lynch's 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 303 
 
 name, the fisherman cast a searching look at his unhidden guest, and 
 said, in an under tone, " Arrah, then, do you know where the Cap- 
 tain is?" 
 
 " No," said Ned, eagerly ; " do you ?" 
 
 " Me ?" said the man, as if he wondered how any one could ask him 
 the question. " Musha! how would I know ?" 
 
 Ned made no observation ; but it struck him there was something 
 in the fisherman's manner that indicated the knowledge he disclaimed. 
 Eager as he was for knowledge on that point, however, he wisely 
 forbore to urge it, well knowing it would be of no use, and fearing it 
 might damage what little interest he might have in that quarter, and 
 which he needed to employ. Leaving, therefore, the matter as it 
 stood, he related his adventure on the Exchange, and for the second 
 time requested the fisherman's good ofiices in going to his father, and 
 telling him where he was; adding, that, as it might be unwise for 
 Ned to go into the town, he hoped his father would come over to the 
 Cladagh. 
 
 The message was carried, as Ned wished ; and an hour did not 
 elapse until he had the satisfaction of receiving the old man's welcome 
 and blessing. As for all the pardon he expected he should have to 
 ask, his father cut it short. He admitted Ned had behaved like an 
 "undutiful young blackguard," but he hoped he knew better now; and 
 " 'pon his soul, he was mighty well grown, so he was." The fact was, 
 old Corkery felt proud of the handsome person of his son ; and, though 
 he was rather uneasy as to the consequences of the affair of the 
 Exchange, yet in his heart he could not help liking Ned the better for 
 knocking down the bully who had insulted him. 
 
 The fisherman and his wife had the politeness to make a clear house 
 of it ; and father and son being left together, an account of Ned's ad- 
 ventures since he quitted Galway filled old Corkery with immeasurable 
 wonder ; but most of all he wondered how Ned could have the 
 assurance to make love to a rale lady. At this brightest and darkest 
 portion of the story, Ned was much excited, and candidly told his 
 father that the chance of finding her, in case she had escaped the 
 Highland massacre, was his chief business in Galway. 
 
 " Faix, then, she has as great a chance of being massacrayd in 
 Galway, I can tell you, as in Scotland ; for they are hot afther any 
 one they suspect of having anything to do with the rising ; and the 
 divil a much they scruple doing anything. As for you, Ned, what 
 with your smuggling, and privateering, and having to do with the 
 rebels, there's as much on your head as would hang fifty, and I 
 advise you to lave Galway * while your shoes is good.'" 
 " Not until I have sought for her ?" 
 " Very well, — you'll have your own way I see. But, if I was you 
 
304 £ .9. d. 
 
 I'd make off to Spain as hard as I could to the uncle. — Wow — ow ! — 
 and there's more of the wondher ! — Who'd think of brother Jerry 
 turning out a great Spanish lord? — Faix, I'd like to go to Spain 
 myself and see him, only maybe he wouldn't speak to a body now that 
 he's so grate a man." 
 
 " Ah, sir, you know little of my uncle !" 
 
 " To be sure I do, when I never see him since he was a boy." 
 
 " He has a noble heart." 
 
 " And plenty of money, you say. Faix, that's where I'd go, Ned." 
 
 " Surely, sir," said Ned, somewhat excited, " you would not have 
 me desert " 
 
 " Oh, the young lady, you mane. 'Pon my word, Ned, — not that 
 I wish to make you onaisy or wound your feelin's, but I think that 
 young lady is in ' kingdom come.' " 
 
 Ned buried his face in his hands, and sighed heavily. His father's 
 bluntness was revolting, and the conversation after this slackened con- 
 siderably. The little there was of it treated of immediate affairs ; for 
 Ned seemed to shut himself up, as it were, respecting the past, and his 
 father urged him to remove, for the present, from the neighbourhood 
 of the town, however he might be determined to remain in the county; 
 for he assured him the affair of the Exchange had produced a strong 
 sensation in the high places of Galway, and that if he should fall into 
 the hands of those in power, it might be as much as his life was 
 worth. 
 
 " My life ?" returned Ned, with an incredulous smile. " What ! — 
 for knocking a man down ? No, no, — there's no law for that." 
 
 " Who said there was ? — that is, no regular law. But, God help 
 your head! it is little they care for any law but what they have power 
 to do themselves." 
 
 " Come, come, father. I know they are arbitrary enough, but 
 I cannot believe my life is in danger." 
 
 " Can't you, indeed? — Oh, — your sarvant, sir,— may be not. See now, 
 Ned. — You have come back from furrin parts, and may know a grate 
 dale more nor me about imperors, and sultans, and the kings o' Bohaymi, 
 and all to that — and about ginteel manners, and counts, and countisses, 
 — and indeed I hope the young woman's alive, — but in the regard to 
 a knowledge of the town o' Galway I'll give in to no man ; and I tell 
 you my owld heart would grieve to see you in the power o' the 
 high people o' Galway this night. God help your head! its little you 
 know of it. It was bad enough when you left it, but it was a paradise 
 on earth compared to what it is now. We could go to mass then, in 
 a sly way with a little care, — but now — oh, jewel ! — by my sowl, it's 
 dangerous to tell your beads beside your own bed for fear the bedpost 
 would inform on you. It's little you know what Galway is come to. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 305 
 
 The wind of a word is enough to condemn a man, much less knocking 
 down one o' themselves. Your life is not worth a sthraw, my buck, inside 
 Galwaj gates, and that's a thruth. Tiiey'd hang you as soon as look 
 at you, and no one to call them to account for it afther. A few 
 months ago, indeed, they were afraid a bit of the Lord Liftinnint ; but 
 now, as we say in Galway, what have we to depind on but the heart 
 of a Stone."* 
 
 Thus went on old Corkery, giving, in his own quaint, disjointed way, 
 a melancholy account of the utter prostration of the bulk of the 
 people beneath the savkge will of the dominant few. Edward listened 
 heedlessly as far as he himself was concerned, but grieved to 
 hear that the place of refuge, where he fancied his darling Ellen 
 might have escaped, was scarcely less dangerous than the den of 
 murder in Scotland. But the recital rather stimulated than depressed 
 him ; he would remain, and seek for tidings of his beloved one, in 
 defiance of the tyranny which his recent life of freedom taught him to 
 detest and despise ; but it was clear, from what his father said, that he 
 must quit the neighbourhood of Galway, and the fisherman was then 
 summoned to take part in their council. He suggested that the 
 readiest mode of putting a good distance between Ned and the town, 
 suddenly and safely, would be to row up the river and cross Lough 
 Corrib, on whose opposite shore he would be perfectly beyond the 
 chance of recognition or reach of capture. For this manoeuvre the 
 fisherman prepared, by going above bridge, and from a friend on the 
 wood quay borrowing a small boat, which he rowed to a convenient 
 spot, beyond reach of observation from any of the ramparts or 
 batteries, and securing the boat to the bank, under the shelter of 
 some flaggers, he returned to the cottage, whence, at nightfal, Ned 
 and he left the Cladagh, and, making a detour to escape all chance of 
 observation from any of the guards of the gates, the boat was reached in 
 safety, and they embarked. Lustily they pulled at their oars, and 
 headed well against the rapid stream ; the towers of Menlo and the 
 castle of the Red Earl were passed, looming darkly over the waters. 
 Soon after, as the stream widened, they lost sight gradually of the 
 banks, and the deep broad waters of the lonely Corrib opened before 
 them. The ripple on the boat's side and the measured stroke 
 of the oar were the only sounds that broke the silence, save when 
 a brief question and answer were exchanged between Ned and 
 his companion. After pulling vigorously for about an hour, they 
 approached the eastern shore, and crept along it towards the north- 
 ward until a small creek offered a landing-place, and they jumped 
 to the bank, and made fast the boat. The ruins of a small 
 castle were on one side of the creek, and of an ancient church on the 
 * The name of the Primate, then all-powerful. 
 
306 £ S. d, 
 
 other. To the former the fisherman led the way, and said ho sup- 
 posed Ned knew where he was now. 
 
 " No," said Ned ; " I have never been on this side of the lake 
 before. What castle is this ?" 
 
 " Aughnadoon, your honour. It's right a gentleman should know 
 the house he sleeps in, for it's here you must sleep to-nigiit, barrin' you 
 know the road to some village or town nigh hand." 
 
 " That I don't," said Ned. 
 
 " Then you had betther wait till morning will give you the use of 
 your eyes ; so shut them up in the mane tiilie here, till you want 
 them." He entered the castle as he spoke, followed by Ned, who 
 groped his way after him. The fisherman threw down a couple of 
 large boat coats, telling Ned these were the only feather-beds the 
 castle could boast of; " for you persaive," added he, with a chuckle, 
 " that they keep open house here for want of a hall door." Ned 
 assured him he knew what it was to lie hard betimes, and he would 
 not find him a discontented guest in the halls of Aughnadoon. 
 
 " If you're particular," said the fellow, " you can put a lump of a 
 stone undher your head for a pillow." 
 
 " Thank you," said Ned, " I am not fond of luxury." 
 
 " Long life to you !" said the fisherman ; " you have got what is 
 betther than beds and pillows and all the luxuries of the world, — you 
 have a merry heart." 
 
 " Not very merry, if you knew but all," said Ned. 
 
 " Well, you're not afraid to look danger, or hardship, or sorrow in 
 the face, and that's the right sort," said the fisherman. " I hope 
 you'll sleep, sir. Good night, and God be with you." He lay down, 
 and soon his heavy breathing told Ned he was fast asleep, and ere long 
 he slumbered as soundly. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 307 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 It was a few weeks previous to the events recorded in the last 
 chapter, that a man, beyond middle age and of saddened aspect, was 
 pacing up and down in a closely shaded alley of trees, forming part of 
 the ornamental woods of a noble domain. His arms were folded upon 
 his breast, and his eyes cast upon the ground. The sun was setting, 
 and a beautiful and gently-winding river, reflecting his beams, could 
 be seen glittering in the distance through the trees. The aspect of 
 Nature was calm and bright, but seemed to have no charm for the 
 stranger pacing beneath the trees, for he turned from the glittering 
 portion of the scene, and looked more congenially into the deep 
 shadows of the wood. At times he would glance up the long alley for 
 awhile, as if expecting some one from that quarter, and, as the 
 shadows of evening deepened, a man was seen to cross a close path 
 through a tangled brake, and entering the alley approach the stranger, 
 who advanced to meet him. The new comer extended his hand and 
 grasped that of his friend warmly. 
 
 " I find you the same as ever, my Lord," said he who had been 
 waiting. " Fast and true to friendship in the worst of times." 
 
 " And worse they could not be," returned the nobleman ; " our lot 
 is cast in gloomy times." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed the other, shaking his head sadly, and looking 
 his companion earnestly in the face, " and why did you not listen to 
 my exhortation, and give the bright lustre of your house's name to 
 dispel the gloom, when it might have been dispelled ? " 
 
 " 'Tis vain to regret the past," was the answer. 
 
 " Yes, but one cannot help regretting," said the other, " and what 
 we regret in the past should warn for the future. I told you, you 
 were deceiving yourself in your hopes of justice to our country." 
 
 " You must admit that Chesterfield's government was enough to 
 make one trust ; to engender the hope that the dawn of better days 
 had broken, and that a noontide of just and wise policy was about to 
 shine out at last." 
 
 " It did not make me trust. I told you, what has since come to 
 pass, that they had granted us that gentle and sensible statesman 
 
 x2 
 
308 £ s, d, 
 
 through necessity, not choice ; fear, not love, was at the bottom of it. 
 The moment they can assert their tyrannous sway — it is resumed — 
 Chesterfield is recalled, and the country given up to a darker domina- 
 tion than ever. There is no hope, but in breaking our chains." 
 
 " But can they be broken ?" 
 
 " If slaves always asked that question, they would never be free." 
 
 " Come, come, my friend, slave is a harsh word. You know I love 
 liberty ; I come of a race whose blood has stained the scaffold in the 
 cause of liberty." 
 
 " Say not stained," exclaimed the other, '• call not blood that is 
 shed for liberty a stain — it is a glorious offering ! " 
 
 " Well, glorious offering let it be — that offering has been made by 
 our house, and would again, if needful — and when it would not, may 
 it perish! But see, my friend, it is unwise to strike for liberty, unless 
 you have cause to believe the blow will be successful ; for failure 
 leads but to fiercer tyranny." 
 
 " I defy them to make us worse than we are now. It is but the 
 other day a priest was butchered in cold blood ; that miscreant, Nevil, 
 regularly amuses himself with priest-hunting, and his atrocities but 
 win him favour in the eyes of those in power. He is a constant 
 sharer in the orgies of my Lord Primate, is the pet of Lord George 
 Sackville, and so forth, and his scandalous embezzlement of public 
 money is connived at by the government, for the welcome work he 
 does in his bloodthirsty lawlessness. Are these things to be borne 
 tamely ? " 
 
 " Certainly not ; I have reason to believe the various petitions and 
 memorials to the King have been suppressed by his ministers, whihi 
 His Majesty's ear is abused on the subject of Ireland : but I myself 
 will present to the King a memorial, now in course of preparation, 
 representirg the true aspect of affairs, and I cannot believe he will 
 permit such a state of things to exist longer in this oppressed land." 
 
 " And are you yet so hopeful?" said the other, with a sai'castic 
 curl upon his lip. " Do you forget that your loyal offer of raising a 
 regiment in his service was spurned ?" 
 
 The nobleman's blood mounted to his face at the remembered 
 insult, and the speaker pursued his advantage. 
 
 " Do you forget the patent of a dukedom I offered you, by command 
 of our true King, while the false one withholds the dignity ? Do you 
 forget Chesterfield recalled, the remonstrances of Parliament despised, 
 the daily abuses before your eyes ? James, Earl of Kildare, if I know 
 your heart, you bitterly regret at this hour you did not take my offer 
 a year ago, and, emulating the ancient glories of your house, unfurl 
 the banner of independence, and lead your countrymen to liberty." 
 
 The Earl made no reply, and his companion took silence for con- 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 309 
 
 sent, and the knitted brow and bitten nether lip of his friend were 
 witnesses in his favour. 
 
 " It may even yet be done." 
 
 " No,— the time is past," said Kildare, with a sigh. 
 
 " Oh, for a ' Silken Thomas !' exclaimed his companion. " With 
 a Geraldine to lead them, the people of this country would shed the 
 last drop of their blood to achieve their freedom." 
 
 " They would be slaughtered unavailingly," replied the Earl. 
 
 " Better that, were it even so, than live the life of a hunted beast, 
 and die in the end," said the other. " But we shall have help, — 
 believe me we shall. The Prince will return with aid from France 
 or Spain, and then a simultaneous movement in Scotland and Ireland 
 must be successful." 
 
 " Tempt me not against my better reason," said the Earl, much 
 moved, — - ' tempt me not. The time is not yet come. When it does, 
 I hope the Geraldine will be found where he ought." 
 
 " Remember^ a dukedom is yours at your own word." 
 
 " I need not the fruit of temptation that lies beneath golden straw- 
 berry leaves to make me do what I think right. The love of country, 
 I hope, will always suffice to stimulate a Geraldine. — Say no more on 
 this dangerous subject. I will not give the harpies the plunder of my 
 estates ; for murder and confiscation must be the inevitable result of 
 any movement at present." 
 
 " I see you are resolved, therefore I will bid you farewell." 
 
 " Let me conjure you to abandon all thoughts of violence." 
 
 " That's as it may be." 
 
 " It cannot succeed." 
 
 " I am not yet sure of that. Without a prospect of success I would 
 not strike." 
 
 " In the meantime what risk you run. Remember, a price is on 
 your head, and they seek you out with a deadly hate." 
 
 " I know it." 
 
 " The world goes hard with you, my friend : would that I could aid 
 you as I wish. To offer you shelter here I thinli useless ; we are too 
 near the seat of power." 
 
 " I would not involve you either in so dangerous a matter," said the 
 other. " Besides, I shall be safer in the wilds of the west, every 
 corner of which I know. It would puzzle them to catch me there." 
 
 " I wish you were safe back in France." 
 
 " The Channel is so swept now that it is difficult to pass it ; and to 
 be candid with you, I have not money enough to tempt a boat to run 
 the risk." 
 
 " I thought as much," said the Earl, " and came provided to help 
 you so far. Here is a rouleau at your service." 
 
010 £ s, d, 
 
 " Thanks, my lord, — my kind friend, I will say, — it may be useful, 
 and I accept it : and now there is no need to expose you to greater 
 risk ; for to be seen in my company might be the price of your 
 fair broad lands ; therefore let us part now for the road. Once 
 more, adieu !" 
 
 " Farewell," said the Earl, as he bore him company down the alley, 
 now wrapt in darkness. " I wonder," he continued, " at your daring 
 to tempt the highway." 
 
 " I trust in God and the right." 
 
 " A good trust for the next world," said the Earl ; " but as for this, 
 right has but small chance in it, and God sometimes permits the evil 
 doers to triumph. Are you well found for your journey ? " 
 
 " A stout horse is at the little gate you left open for me." 
 
 " Be swift and circumspect, my friend." 
 
 " It is needful, on this side of the Shannon, but once across that 
 boundary I shall feel tolerably secure." 
 
 They proceeded in silence for some time through tangled wood, and 
 at length opened upon clear space, under the cover of large trees, 
 through whose foliage the last streak of twilight glimmered. As 
 they approached the wall of the domain, some withered branches that 
 strewed the ground crackled under their feet, and a voice in advance 
 of them demanded, " Who's there ?" 
 
 The Earl grasped the arm of his friend in alarm, and stopped. 
 
 His companion reassured him in a whisper, and returned to the 
 challenge the word " Sarsfield." 
 
 The challenger then gave the countersign of " Limerick," and the 
 Earl and his friend advanced to the wicket, where a stout peasant was 
 standing. The Earl hung back a little, out of observation, while the 
 stranger whispered some few words to the peasant ; then grasping the 
 hand of his noble friend in silence, he disappeared through the wicket, 
 and the Earl heard the retiring footsteps of more than one horse. In 
 a few seconds he looked through the gate, to see who bore his friend 
 company, and, as well as the uncertain light would permit, he thought 
 it was a lady. The Earl locked the wicket, and walked slowly home- 
 ward through the woods, his thoughts occupied with the melancholy 
 musings that such fearful times were calculated to inspire in a patriot. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 311 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Morning had not long dawned on the Castle of Aughnadoon when 
 Ned and the friendly fisherman woke from their slumbers, the nature 
 of their beds not being calculated to induce over-sleeping. The fish- 
 erman remarked that he feared, from Ned's appearance, his resting- 
 place had not agreed with him ; the fact was, that the influence of 
 painful dreams produced a mental depression upon Ned, against 
 which he could not contend. The visions of the night had con- 
 jured up forms and words fearfully real and of woful import; and 
 though he endeavoured to account for this nightly visiting of fancy as 
 the consequence of the conversation held with his father on the pre- 
 ceding evening, still he could not shake off the influence which dreams, 
 despite the best efforts of waking reason, will sometimes impose upon 
 us. He thought that Ellen had appeared to him, telling him she was 
 dead, that she had lovingly remembered him in the hour of death, and 
 visited him thus to relieve him from the rack of uncertainty in which 
 he lived — that she was at rest and happy, and therefore he should 
 grieve no more. The dream was so vivid that he started from his 
 sleep, and, even when wide awake, was still calling upon her name. 
 
 It was under this strong mental impression that his brow was sad- 
 dened, and his cheek so pale, as to induce the remark of his com- 
 panion, who, immediately after rising, busied himself in preparing 
 breakfast. Unfolding a piece of sailcloth, he drew forth some dried 
 fish, a loaf of coarse bread, and a mug. Spreading the sailcloth over 
 a large stone, it served for table-cloth, and having laid the bread and 
 fish upon it he went to the lake and filled his mug, and called upon 
 Ned, on his return, to partake of the fare, for whose humbleness he 
 apologized. Ned thanked him for his kind thoughtful ness in providing 
 any refreshment whatsoever, and partook of it rather to gratify the 
 fisherman than his own hunger, for, in truth, he felt little inclined to 
 the meal, and ate so sparingly, that his host said he feared such hard 
 fare was unwelcome to a young gentleman. 
 
 The repast being ended, Ned inquired tlie " lie of the country," and 
 what were the neighbouring tpwns, and his guide pointed out to him 
 all he required. " Right before you," said he, "is Headford— Shrulc 
 
312 £ s, d. 
 
 a little on the left of it. Tuam you can go to by crossing the country 
 over there ; and up to the north lies Cong — or you can make over by 
 Ross Abbey towards Lough Mask, and so on to Ballinrobe." 
 
 " Well, you have given me choice enough," said Ned, " so I may 
 as well start at once, and let you go back to Galway. And now, my 
 friend, here's a trifle in return for the service you have done me." 
 
 " Tut, tut, sir,— do you think I'd take money from you ?" 
 
 " And why not ? — I have taken you from your occupation, and you 
 should be paid for it." 
 
 " Why if you came to me for pleasuring, sir, and wanted my boat 
 on the lough, or my hooker on the bay, then, well and good, you might 
 pay me ; but when a gentleman in trouble comes to my house and puts 
 his trust in me, then all must be done in honour^ and the stain of 
 lucre musn't be on it." 
 
 " Well, I will not offend you, then," said Ned, returning the money 
 into his purse, well knowing the high spirit of the humbler classes of 
 his countrymen, " and I hope you pardon me for the offer ; and since 
 what you have done for me is not to be a paid service, but one of 
 friendship, give me your hand before I say good-bye." 
 
 He shook the offered palm of the gratified fisherman heartily, and, 
 leaving the castle, they walked down to the boat, which soon was 
 bearing the honest fellow of the Cladagh back to Galway. Ned stood 
 on the beach looking after him, and thought how rare, in any other 
 country, is the noble spirit found among the Irish people, whom 
 poverty cannot teach to be mean or sordid, nor oppression grind into 
 brutality. No ! — despite all their sufferings, there is a generous 
 blood amongst them that remains untainted. 
 
 Ned, as the boat lessened into distance, turned from the shore, and 
 struck across the country. He had not made up his mind whither he 
 would go, but the day was before him, and he had time enough to 
 choose ; so pushing over towards the blue line of hills that bound 
 Lough Mask, he wended his way, filled with melancholy thoughts, 
 which the stillness and desolation through which he passed were not 
 calculated to dispel. Pie did not meet a human being, and, save the 
 cry of wild birds that sometimes swept above his head towards the 
 long waste of Corrib's waters, stretching far away to the dark high 
 mountains in the north-west, he did not hear a sound. A more lonely 
 walk could not be taken, and the unbroken monotony of the stony flats 
 over which he passed was wearisome. It was a relief to his eye when 
 after some hours he saw the ruins of an abbey rising in the distance, and 
 to this point he bent his steps. On reaching it he could not help noticing 
 much of architectural beauty that was attached to the spot ; and he 
 wandered about the ruins for some time, insensibly attracted by their 
 [)ictur€squeness. Many tombs were within, as well as without.; some 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 313 
 
 whose elaborate sculpture showed the place had once been of import- 
 ance. Many of these bore inscriptions, and he employed himself in 
 that occupation, so common under such circumstances, of reading these 
 records of the dead. The scene, and his immediate occupation, were 
 in singular accordance with his frame of mind and the spirit of his 
 last night's dream. He was amongst graves, and he sat down and 
 mused, and his musings were very sad. His eye rested on a mural 
 tablet of black marble, richly ornamented, whose ancient letters still 
 bore, in their antique cutting, remains of former gilding. 
 
 After a curiously scrolled H^V^ltf followed the name of her to 
 whose memory the tablet was inscribed, with an elaborate statement 
 of whose wife she had been, his titles and possessions; next, of her 
 own family descent; and, lastly, her beauties and virtues were recorded 
 in these quaint words — 
 
 SiSaell fabouretr of ISotrge iutte more teautifulle of 
 ^oule, |)e OTflsfeette of g^ jfUuf^z i^atTj tipne 
 ^tole fig UetlD^ . gf firggl^te Jfetoelle gt 
 (JTontagnrtr fjatf^t tgue couettctie fige ge 
 ilorlre of |i)06tes for gc Ertmvit of l^eabgii. 
 
 The description was one that suited Ellen Lynch — '* well favoured 
 of body, but more beautiful of soul;" and Edward thought of her as he 
 read it, and then he pursued the thought — " had death stolen the 
 casket of that bright jewel, too?" His eyes were yet fixed on the 
 tablet while thus he thought, and as he saw its mouldings fallen away, 
 its emblazonry defaced, its gilding tarnished, and the very sanctuary, 
 where it had been placed, open to the rude visitings of the elements, 
 a sickening feeling of the nothingness of all human things came over 
 him. In truth, the scene was a sad one ; the tomb, with its broken 
 tracery and faded gilding, was a mockery to the words it bore. This 
 lady of beauty and worth — this rare piece of mortality, " coveted by 
 Heaven," was utterly forgotten, as if she had never existed. He who 
 loved her and raised this tomb, all that cared for her memory, had 
 passed away ; the consecrated temple, where her remains were laid 
 with honour, was a ruin, and the very faith in which she died, then in 
 its " pride of power," was trampled in the dust — dared not show its 
 head in the land covered with its fanes, and, having preached life 
 eternal to others, was present death to avow. 
 
 Edward quitted his seat before the tomb, and paced slowly across 
 the chancel, thoroughly saddened in spirit, subdued to the lowest key- 
 note of melancholy, when, as he was about to pass through a shattered 
 porch, he saw a figure, darkly draped, slowly rising from a tomb, and 
 he stood riveted to the ground, struck with amazement, his eyes fixed 
 on the apparition, and almost doubting the evidence of his own 
 senses, thinking an overheated imagination might deceive him. But 
 
314 £ s. d, 
 
 no — it moved — it rose still higher from the grave — he staggered among 
 some rubbish against the archway which he grasped for support — the 
 apparition turned its head — and, oh Heavens ! what words could tell 
 his sensations, when he saw the pale features of Ellen Lynch ! — A 
 wild, half- suffocated, exclamation escaped his lips, and he sank sense- 
 less to the earth. 
 
 It was some time before returning consciousness restored Ned to 
 action. When he awoke from his trance all was lone and silent ; nor 
 sight nor sound was there to startle his living senses, as, awe-struck, 
 he cast timid glances around, and listened with painful eagerness. His 
 own embarrassed breathing was all he heard, and that almost fright- 
 ened him. After some effort he was enabled to gain his feet, but his 
 knees trembled, and it was by an extraordinary effort he succeeded in 
 getting clear of the abbey walls, and, without once looking behind 
 him, he made what speed he might from the precincts of a spot where 
 he witnessed a sight so appalling; and, when his strength permitted, 
 (and it increased with increasing distance from the point of terror,) 
 he ran till he gained a road, and the sight of a beaten track was most 
 welcome, as associating ideas of human beings and things of this 
 world. He pushed on rapidly, the body keeping pace with the wild 
 rush of strange thoughts that coursed through his brain. How he 
 would have welcomed the sight of a fellow-creature to bear him 
 company, were he the poorest beggar in Galway ! but miles were 
 passed without his seeing any one, a chilling loneliness was the 
 characteristic of the entire country he passed through. On gaining a 
 slight elevation, on whose summit he perceived that from the road, 
 descending immediately at the other side, he should be shut out from 
 the view of the country he had passed, he could not resist looking 
 back towards the abbey— the first time he had dared to do so. He 
 saw it standing, in stern solitude, in the dreary flat he had crossed ; 
 it seemed the very place to be haunted by mysterious terrors, and he 
 shuddered to remember what he had witnessed within its walls. He 
 turned and descended the acclivity, and pursued the road before him, 
 a prey to superstitious wonder and sad thoughts, and, after journeying 
 for a couple of hours, it was a relief to him to see a town in the dis- 
 tance before him. He supposed it to be Tuam, and on reaching it, 
 found his conjecture to be right, as he inquired from a woman his 
 way to the nearest inn. 
 
 " Faix, there's not so many o' them, but you may find out when 
 you turn into the high sthreet," said the woman, pointing the way, 
 which Ned pursuing, a large sign, swinging from a scrolled iron 
 bracket in front of a straggling whitewashed building, indicated where 
 the traveller might find accommodation. As Ned was approaching 
 the house, a man alighted at the dooi* and entered, and, from the 
 
s i 
 
 s^ror -^ 
 
 , y/u'y^cAJz^/^-t/l(9-^^y 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 315 
 
 glimpse he caught, he fancied he should know him. He hurried to 
 the inn, followed the horseman to the parlour, and exclaimed, on seeing 
 the traveller, " It is he ! Finch, by all that's wonderful !" 
 
 The surprise of Finch was equal at this unexpected rencontre ; and 
 rapid inquiries passed between them touching the why and wherefore 
 of their meeting in that remote spot. 
 
 " I am right glad to see you, Ned, my lad," said Finch, " not only 
 for the regard I bear you, but for my own especial good ; for of all 
 the men in the world you are the one for my purpose at this moment. 
 I say, how's the lady?" 
 
 Ned grew ghastly pale at the question. 
 
 " Hillo, how ill you look, — nothing wrong, I hope. Ned, my 
 lad, pardon me if I've asked an awkward question : women are queer 
 creatures, but I thought that was all right." 
 
 Ned still continued silent and looking miserable. 
 
 " Come, come !" said Finch, slapping him on the shoulder ; " don't 
 be so downhearted about it. There's as good fish in the sea as ever 
 was caught, if she has proved false." 
 
 "False!" said Ned, reproachfully. "No, no. Finch; there was 
 no falsehood in her nature, — she was an angel I" 
 
 " Then what the deuce is the matter?" returned Finch. 
 
 " She's dead," replied Edward. 
 
 " Dead !" exclaimed Finch, in utter amazement. " Then that con- 
 founded piper told me a lie!" 
 
 " What piper ?" said Ned, eagerly. 
 
 " That Phaidrig fellow." 
 
 " What !— Phaidrig na-pib ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " When ?" 
 
 " Yesterday." 
 
 " Then she is alive !" exclaimed Ned, nearly convulsed with 
 emotion. 
 
 " Why, Ned, what's all this ? — first dead, and then alive. Are you 
 in your senses, lad ?" 
 
 " Scarcely, indeed. Finch. I'm half mad, and no wonder. I have 
 been on the rack of uncertainty so long that my poor head is 
 bewildered, my brain is Bedlam." 
 
 " Softly, Ned, softly," said Finch, kindly. 
 
 " But of Phaidrig, — tell me. Finch, where did you see him ? — 
 Whatever he says is true, — he must know." 
 
 " I saw him in Athlone, two days ago." 
 
 " I would give the world to find him ! — Was he stopping in 
 Athlone?" 
 
 " That's more than I can tell. I saw him in the street^ and spoke 
 
316 £ s. d. 
 
 to him. Asked after you first, and he said you were in France ; then 
 after the lady, and he said she was well. I inquired were you married 
 yet, — he shook his head ; and on my attempting some further ques- 
 tions, said, in his own significant way, ' the less was said about people 
 in these times the better ;' and altogether seemed disinclined to 
 pursue conversation when he found / knew nothing about ^ou." 
 
 " But he said she was well ?" 
 
 " Decidedly." 
 
 " Thank God !" said Ned, fervently. 
 
 " But wherefore did you imagine she was dead ?" 
 
 " It would take too long to tell you now. Strong presumptive evi- 
 xience and my own terrible imaginings convinced me : but Phaidrig 
 •must know the truth, and I will seek him." 
 
 " Remember, it is two days since I saw him in Athlone ; and it 
 will cost you two days to reach it ; and after that lapse of time is it 
 likely you will find one of so erratic a life ?" 
 
 " A piper is a traceable person," said Ned. 
 
 " Yes, if they would let you trace him," said Finch : " but all 
 I can say is, that since I have come into the country I never was in a 
 place where you can get so little information. I have heard much 
 of the intelligence of the Irish, but in my experience every body seems 
 anxious to impress you with the belief that he knows nothing." 
 
 " Oppression has taught them the use of equivocation," said Ned. 
 " I can imagine their not giving a straight answer to an Englishman; 
 but / would get the truth out of them." 
 
 " Well, you know your own countrymen best. Perhaps it is 
 oppression has done it. On that score, I, as an Englishman, can bear 
 witness that so wretched a state of things I never saw. If you have 
 not some one to stand godfather for you as to who you are and what 
 you are doing, and where you are going, you are suspected and bullied 
 by the upper ranks, — as badly oft* as a man without a passport abroad : 
 while among the lower, there seems so wide-spread a distrust, that it 
 is difficult to get an answer on any subject." 
 
 " You are certain Phaidrig said she was alive," interrupted Ned, 
 heedless of Finch's observations. 
 
 " Certain." 
 
 " Then I don't care about anything else," said Ned. " I'll start 
 for Athlone at once, and get on Phaidrig's track." 
 
 " And I must bear you company, lad ; for I am engaged on a 
 venture in which I will secure your cooperation, now that I have 
 found you ; and though a trip to Athlone will turn my back on the 
 point I want to reach, yet your object is a more pressing one than 
 mine, and I will wait your convenience." 
 
 '' You may assist me, too, perhaps," said Ned. '-^ At all events 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 317 
 
 your company will be most welcome. A lively fellow like you is a 
 treasure to a poor devil like me, who has been grieved nearly to 
 death." 
 
 " I have had my own share of grievances, too, I can tell you," 
 replied Finch. " I have been in troubled waters since I saw you." 
 
 " I notice you don't look quite so smooth and spruce as usual." 
 
 " No, i' faith. The world has used me scurvily o' late, Ned, as you 
 shall hear;" and Finch thus commenced a recital of his adventures 
 since his separation from his friend. 
 
 " You left me in London, Ned, full of joy for past luck, and high 
 in hope of more. While I was waiting for our prizes being turned 
 into cash and ready for delivery by the prize-agent, I dashed away 
 in pursuit of town pleasure, as you know is my wont, and ran 
 my purse pretty low. Well, I went to the agent for a supply of 
 rhino for immediate use, but the scurvy rascal said it was irregular 
 until the accounts were made out, at which time I should have all my 
 money at once. I stormed and swore at the rascal, but it was no use ; 
 he stuck to his text that it was irregular, and he would not do it." 
 
 " Why, he advanced me a hundred pieces," said Ned, " at your 
 request." 
 
 " Yes, and glad I am you had the luck to get them, for 'tis more 
 than any body else got out of him." 
 
 " What ! — no return from your prize ?" 
 
 " Not a rap, except the coined treasure, which had been at once 
 divided amongst ourselves ; but the cobs of gold, and silver bars, and 
 chests of plate from the Spaniard, and the price of the brig and her 
 cargo, which we picked up coming home, all were swallowed by 
 that land shark prize-agent. I went the day after he refused me to 
 remonstrate, and to threaten I w^ould certainly expose this unusual 
 shabbiness on his part, and take good care it should be known 
 wherever I could trumpet it, and that he might find his agencies not 
 so plenty if that was the way he used the free-hearted lads of the 
 ocean. In short, I had made up a fine speech on the occasion, Ned, 
 fit for a member of parliament in the opposition, when, judge of my 
 astonishment on walking up to his house to find it shut." 
 
 " Had he failed, then?" 
 
 " Smashed, Ned; scuttled, filled, and went down: sunk with all 
 our treasure aboard, lad. The rascal had been insolvent for a long 
 while, but contrived to keep his head above water until such time as 
 he could make a good haul, and be off with it ; and we had the luck 
 of it, Ned. Yes, the rascal pouched the bulk of our prizes, and made 
 a clean start of it, and we never could trace his retreat." 
 
 " That was hard, indeed. Finch." 
 
 " The shabby scoundrel, to leave me on the flags of London, 
 
318 JC 5. (I. 
 
 without even a rouleau in mj pocket ; if he had even given the 
 hundred I asked him for — but without a guinea — 'twas hard, Master 
 Ned. Lord, how I cursed him ! Well, sir, when the thing got wind, 
 a mob of sailors, towards the end of the day, got round the house, 
 and the wicked speeches they passed one through the other acted like 
 fire on gunpowder, and a pretty explosion it made at last. They 
 determined to gut the house, and to it they set, and were not long 
 about it either. Smash went the windows, which, though well bar- 
 ricaded, were no more than cobwebs before the Jacks. Bang ! 
 scramble they went through them, just as if they were boarding a 
 ship — such boarding was never seen in that lodging before — and, in 
 two minutes after they were in, out came — flying — tables and chairs, 
 beds, sofas, looking-glasses, and lustres. ' Heave-o ! ' was the word 
 from above ; ' Take care of your hats,' they cried to the crowd below, 
 which, at a respectful distance, cheered the work of destruction, and 
 raised shout upon shout as the pile of demolished furniture increased 
 in the street. At last they began to pull the house to pieces ; the 
 sashes were demolished, window-shutters and doors dragged from 
 their hinges, and smashed into splinters ; and, when all had been 
 demolished that was breakable, they came marching out with bed- 
 posts in their hands, waving the curtains, like so many banners, in 
 triumph, and shouting like thunder. Just then the authorities 
 arrived, in time to see they were too late, and attempted to arrest the 
 rioters ; but you may suppose what a chance they had against the tars 
 armed with bed-posts. They soon cleared the street of the constables, 
 to the infinite delight, and amidst the acclamations, of the populace. 
 "Well, that was small satisfaction to me, with all my money gone. I 
 must set to work and make more, and a wild thing I did, Ned, very 
 soon. Somehow, talking with you, and seeing the cursed illiberal 
 things they were doing at head- quarters, gave me a great disgust to 
 those Hanoverian rats, and, by Jove ! I thought I would make some 
 money for myself, and do the young Pretender a good turn too— and 
 what do you think I did, Ned ? " 
 
 " How should I know ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you, then. You know there were many seizures of arms 
 made by government, and these cases and casks of arms were stowed 
 away in some old warehouses on the river-side. Now what did I do, 
 think you, but compass the getting hold of these arms, and shipping 
 them off to Scotland, where I knew the insurgents would be right glad 
 to buy them up — a good speculation — eh, Ned ? " 
 
 " But a dangerous trick." 
 
 " Not at all. Never dreaming of such an attempt, the authorities 
 took no particular care of these stores, so I started the plan to some 
 wild dogs I knew down on the river, and a small craft was got ready 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 319 
 
 for the venture, and lay just below Greenwich, in a quiet part of the 
 stream. We then got a lighter barge, and having prepared ourselves 
 with ladders and boring materials fit for effecting an entrance to the 
 store, chose a dark night and a favouring tide for our feat ; and with 
 most perfect ease, and free from interruption, we transferred a large 
 quantity of arms from the store to the lighter, and dropped down with 
 the tide to our cutter below Greenwich, where we shipped our dan- 
 gerous cargo ; and then it was slip cable, up gaff, and away. At 
 dawn We were passing Gravesend, and we were at sea before the trick 
 we played ashore was discovered. An English craft, and under our 
 own colours, we held our course uninterrupted without the smallest 
 suspicion from the cruisers and privateers that swarmed in the 
 channel, and got on right well until we approached the Scottish 
 coast ; but there our movements were suspected, and we were chased 
 by a king's ship, and run ashore. We had barely time to avoid being 
 nabbed by his majesty's blue jackets, who got into their boats and 
 seized the cutter, and most likely would have pursued us, but that it 
 was nightfall, and a chase would have been hopeless. In half an hour 
 after we saw our cutter blazing away at a furious rate, and that was 
 the result of our adventure so far." 
 
 " A bad ending. Finch." 
 
 " Not ended yet. — The cutter being seized, and her name known, 
 would lead to a discovery of the persons engaged in this affair, so 
 London was no place to go back to, and Scotland was not a handy 
 place to stay in neither, as we could not give a good account of 
 ourselves, and *look sharp' was the word among King George's 
 friends ; so, hearing that they were fitting out some privateers in 
 Dublin, we thought it best to make our way to Ireland and volunteer 
 for a fighting ship again." 
 
 " I wonder you left it off, when your first cruise had been so suc- 
 cessful." 
 
 " 'Tvvas all very well at first, Ned, but there were soon too many 
 privateers ; besides which, the king's ships were thicker on the sea, 
 and left less for privateers to take. Well, to return to my story. — To 
 Dublin I repaired, and there" — 
 
 " Hold, Finch !" said Ned, abruptly arresting the narrative. 
 
 " What now ?" 
 
 " Did not Phaidrig's manner imply that Lynch was in trouble ?" 
 
 '' Most decidedly — it looked very like as if the Captain was playing 
 least in sight." 
 
 " Then it was herself I saw !" exclaimed Ned, starting up and 
 pacing the room — " Oh, what a fool I have been through superstitious 
 terror !" 
 
 " How is that ?" 
 
320 <£ S, d. 
 
 " Finch, I am ashamed of myself, and you will laugh at me. — But 
 indeed the circumstances were so appalling — the time — my frame of 
 mind — that" — 
 
 " Hollo !" cried Finch ; " what is it you're talking of?" 
 
 " In short," cried Ned — " I thought I saw her ghost." 
 
 *' Her ghost ?" echoed Finch, in amazement. 
 
 " Yes," said Ned, who then related his adventure in the abbey, 
 
 " I own it was enough to shake one's nerves," said his friend. 
 
 " Oh, to what miserable straits they have been reduced," cried Ned, 
 " when a noisome vault under a ruin is their hiding-place. — She who 
 has graced a court, forced to shelter in a grave-yard — Oh, horrible !" 
 
 " Is it not strange she did not recognise you ?" 
 
 " I know I uttered an exclamation of terror when I saw her, and 
 she, most likely, at the sound of human voice so near their hiding- 
 place, was influenced by fear, more justifiable than mine, and re- 
 treated." 
 
 " Then, when you recovered from your swoon, you did not attempt 
 to solve the mystery." 
 
 " No ; I confess I fled in horror. But now I will not lose a 
 moment in returning to the place. Heaven grant I may find her ! " 
 
 " That is not likely, my friend. They would scarcely remain after 
 what you tell me." 
 
 " True," said Ned, sadly. " Oh, what a coward idiot I have 
 been ! When I might have clasped her to my heart ! When I miglit 
 
 have joined her, never to be separated ! But I waste time in 
 
 words. — To horse — to horse. Finch ! " 
 
 They were both soon mounted, and rode at a rapid pace to the 
 abbey. Ned was hastening to the spot where he had seen Ellen 
 appear, when Finch warned him not to enter too suddenly. " You 
 may produce alarm," said he ; " or, maybe, get a pistol-shot. Give 
 some signal of a friend being here." 
 
 Edward called upon her name, at the mouth of the tomb, but no 
 answer was returned. Finch and he then descended, and, througli 
 what had once been a charnel vault, an opening was made to a sort of 
 crypt, beneath the abbey. It was dimly lighted from narrow loop- 
 holes a little above the ground ; some rude seats, and a plank resting 
 on stones, by way of table, indicated that it had served for a habita- 
 tion, and the yet warm ashes of a turf fire showed it had not been 
 long deserted. 
 
TUEASURE TROVE. 321 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 The evidence which the vault afforded of being recently inhabited, 
 coupled with the few words which Finch had exchanged with Phaidrig, 
 having satisfied Ned that Ellen was living, — that it was her real pre- 
 sence and not a spectral appearance he had witnessed, — his mind was 
 relieved from the harassing doubt which so long had preyed upon it; 
 but with that craving of the human heart for the possession of its 
 whole enjoyment, never contented with an instalment, he now was 
 beset with a desire to see the living object of his wishes, almost as 
 distracting as his former uncertainty. In the morning he would have 
 said he should be content if any one could assure him Ellen was in 
 existence ; but having, in the course of pursuit, satisfied himself, by 
 his own means, she was so, the spirit of the chase was still warm, and 
 he felt disappointment at being checked at the point so near the 
 completion of his happiness. He examined every crevice and cranny 
 of the vault with vexatious impatience ; repeatedly he placed his hand 
 over the decaying embers of the fire, and ventured to calculate by the 
 heat how long it was since it had been fed. He stood in the midst of 
 the vault, and looked around him as if he would have questioned the 
 very stones, to tell him of those whom they had lately sheltered ; and, 
 thrown hopelessly back upon his disappointed desires, he turned to 
 Finch a dejected look, and asked what was to be done. 
 
 Finch, whose tact and experience told him there was no use in 
 trying to persuade a lover to be reasonable, had looked on patiently at 
 all Ned had been doing in the vault, and had not made one word of 
 comment ; but when he was appealed to for his opinion, he said he did 
 not see any use in staying there, and recommended a return to the 
 town, 
 
 Ned, after some little more lingering in the place where his beloved 
 one had been, complied ; and as they retraced the road to their inn, 
 nothing was spoken of but the possibilities of discovering her retreat, 
 and plan after plan was suggested by both for putting in train a likely 
 course of inquiry. Ned reverted, after all, to his first suggestion of 
 finding Phaidrig, who would certainly be possessed of any secret 
 connected with Lynch and his daughter^ and Finch, not seeing 
 
 Y 
 
322 £ S, d, 
 
 anything better to be done, agreed to go back as far as Athlone, 
 where the piper had last been seen, and try to get on his trail and 
 hunt him up. 
 
 The day was now far spent ; it was evening when they regained 
 their inn at Tuam, and they retired early to rest, that they might be 
 the better prepared for an early start and long journey on the 
 morrow. At dawn they were mounted, and nothing of particular 
 interest occurred for two days, during which they made what haste 
 they might for the shore of the Shannon. On the evening of the 
 second, they crossed the long bridge which leads over the ample 
 river to that old town of so much historic interest, and the scene of 
 many a well fought day ; and having secured a lodging for the night 
 in their hostel, they sallied forth, before they retired to rest, to 
 commence the inquiry for which they had travelled so many weary 
 miles; and success so far crowned Ned's efforts, that he ascertained the 
 road Phaidrig took on leaving the town, and Finch rejoiced it was 
 to the west, for in that direction he wished to journey. So far 
 both were pleased, and sat down to their supper with more con- 
 tentment than hitherto ; and once fairly put on the track of the piper, 
 Ned's spirits rallied, and then, for the first time, he inquired of 
 Finch the particulars of the circumstance which had made him a 
 traveller in these western wilds, and which led to a meeting in which 
 he so much rejoiced. 
 
 " The case was this," said Finch. " When I had cut and run from 
 Scotland, and made my way to Dublin, one day, as I was strolling 
 about, looking at whatever was to be seen in the city, I saw, lying 
 beside the Custom-house, a knowing looking craft that I thought 
 I should not be unacquainted with. On inquiry, I found it was a 
 smuggler, which had been recently seized, whose crew were thrown 
 into prison until their trial should come on ; and, as I calculated the 
 commander of the craft was an old acquaintance, I could not resist the 
 temptation of paying him a visit in prison." 
 
 " Under your peculiar circumstances, that was not over wise," 
 said Ned. 
 
 " True," said Finch ; — " and yet, when you say * not over wise,' it 
 is not that exactly, either. You and I, Ned, and those who, like us, 
 have known adventure, often do rash things, not from want of 
 wisdom, but from carelessness of consequences, which becomes at last 
 so habitual, that we do, with our eyes open, things that people in 
 ordinary might fairly set down to want of perception rather than 
 want of fear. And, after all, I don't know if we are much worse off, 
 in the long run, tlian the most cautious. Your cautious fellow is 
 nibbling away, bit by bit, his enjojrment, in calculating how far he 
 may go, while your bold-face attempts whatever comes in his way by 
 
TREASURE TROVE. iilii 
 
 assault, and takes his chance for success or defeat. They say a 
 * brave man dies but once, while a coward dies every day ;' and so it 
 is possible your cautious gentleman endures more mental torment in 
 imagining the many predicaments he is to avoid, than the headlong 
 fellow who falls into his one scrape, and pays the penalty of it." 
 
 " It is not impossible," said Ned ; " at least you have made out a 
 very plausible case for rashness, and, unlike many, your practice 
 coincides with your preaching. But now to your fact. You visited 
 your friend in prison ?" 
 
 " I did, and, as he was suffering from a wound, he was in the sick 
 ward. As I passed along between the rows of beds with which it was 
 crowded, a pair of dark and anxious eyes were cast upon me from 
 beneath the coverlid of one of those couches of double misery, — the 
 bondage of a prison and the thraldom of sickness. Oh, God, what a 
 wretchedness to be reduced to ! — though perhaps, after all, it may be 
 a relief. The poor devil has a chance of release, — death may become 
 head-turnkey, and set him free !" 
 
 '^ You are getting too discursive and eloquent, Finch," said Ned, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Ah, Ned, by Jove you would not smile had you witnessed what 
 I saw. That sick ward, — Lord, I shall never forget it ! — I think, 
 were I its inmate I should go mad. — But these eyes I was telling 
 you of " 
 
 " Well." 
 
 " I passed on, and went to the upper end, where my respectable 
 acquaintance, the smuggler, lay ; and after I had a few words with 
 him, an attendant of the ward addressed me, saying one of the 
 patients wished to speak with me. I followed him, and he led me to 
 that bed whence those anxious eyes had gleamed out upon me. The 
 sick man was a Spaniard, one whom I had met in a foreign port ; he 
 recognised me as I passed his bed, and in his dying need was fain to 
 entrust to me, a casual acquaintance, a secret of which it required a 
 trusty friend to be the depository. To the end of my life I shall 
 never forget the anxious look of that haggard face, as he confided to 
 me his tale, and enjoined me, by hopes of the blessings, or fears of the 
 curses of a dying man, to be true to my trust." 
 
 " What was it ?" said Ned, grown anxious by the romantic nature 
 of Finch's preamble. 
 
 ^' Briefly this," said Finch. " His ship was wrecked on the 
 western coast ; a large amount of treasure was saved, and to preserve 
 it, was buried close to the shore, after which the survivors of the 
 crew gave themselves up as prisoners, the Spanish captain intending, 
 whenever peace should procure him his liberty, to raise his treasure, 
 and remove it to Spain. As prisoners of war, they were forwarded 
 
 y2 
 
324 £ 5. d. 
 
 to Dublin, where he fell sick from injuries sustained in the wreck, of 
 which he was dying when he spoke to me. It was the fear this money 
 should be lost to his family which gave that painfully anxious look to 
 his countenance. As soon as I promised to undertake the trust he 
 became calmer, and I had the satisfaction of smoothing that dying 
 stranger's pillow. He was liberal, too, in the condition he made with 
 me, giving me one-third of the treasure as the price of conveying the 
 remainder to his family in Spain." 
 
 " That was but fair," said Ned ; " for it is a task of difficulty, 
 danger, and anxiety." 
 
 " Greater than I thought, Ned ; for I did not know the state Ireland 
 is in, and without the aid of an Irishman I am certain I could never 
 achieve it ; and of all Irishmen, you are the man for my turn, and 
 I thank Heaven for having thrown you in my way." 
 
 " I will do my best for j'ou." 
 
 " For though I am not superstitious in my nature, I confess I 
 should not like to be under the fearful vengeance with which that 
 dying man vowed his spirit w^ould pursue me, were I false to or 
 neglectful of my trust. Ton my soul, Ned, I almost shudder when 
 I remember that man's dying bed, — the anxious thoughts of his far- 
 distant home, and wife and children, and his only hope of their being 
 placed beyond want resting on a comparative stranger, whom he 
 sought to bind by alternate hopes and fears to the interests of those 
 who were so near to his heart when its last pulses were beating. Oh, 
 'twas a fearful scene !" 
 
 " One I should not like to have been engaged in," said Ned. 
 
 " And which I regret," said Finch. " But I could not resist those 
 dying entreaties." 
 
 " Which, with all your good intentions, you may not be able to 
 fulfil. Fancy the difficulty of finding a given spot such as you seek, 
 however accurately described." 
 
 " So far I am as well provided as any man but he who buried it 
 could be. The place is laid down for me by the points of the compass, 
 and with bearings that can scarcely fail to discover it." 
 
 '• But on such a coast how difficult, abounding as it does with bay, 
 creek, and inlet, so* similar in detail however varied in their general 
 form ; cliffs and rocks arc hard to be distinguished from each other, 
 and the sea in one night might alter the features of the place so as to 
 render it untraceable." 
 
 " All true, Ned ; but I have a landmark more distinguishable than 
 any you have named, — a castle, on the shores of a bay, and in the 
 neighbourhood of mountains and headlands that furnish such bearings 
 as the storms of centuries could not destroy." 
 
 " If buried in a castle, take care some one is not before you in 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 325 
 
 lifting your treasure, for the peasantry here have such a general faith 
 that the ruins of antiquity are full of hidden money, they are ever- 
 lastingly digging in such places." 
 
 " Well, 'tis not in — but outside the castle mine is buried ; so the 
 fears you would waken may slumber, and you shan't frighten me, 
 Ned. But come, we have talked enough of this, — let's to bed. We 
 will take the road together for the west to-morrow, each in search of 
 his treasure." 
 
 '' Ah, what's your treasure to mine ?" said Ned, with a lover's 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 " There's great similarity between them," returned Finch. 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 " Mine is buried, so was yours, — wasn't she in a tomb ?" 
 
 " Yes, but, thank Heaven, though entombed, alive." 
 
 " Not a ghost yet, Ned — eh ?" said Finch, laughing at him. 
 
 " Don't be too sure you wouldn't have been frightened yourself. 
 Finch." 
 
 " Then there's another point of resemblance. I have to take my 
 treasure to Spain : I fancy you would like to bear yours to the same 
 place ?" 
 
 " That I would," said Ned, " safe out of this unhappy country 1" 
 
 " Then go a-head, lad ! . To-morrow we'll make sail together in 
 chase, and good luck to us !" 
 
326 £ s. d. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 The countiy through which the road of our travellers lay on the 
 following morning, is perhaps the most unpicturesque in all Ireland. 
 Except the Shannon, which is, throughout its long course, always 
 fine, there is little even now, for many a weary mile, but dead 
 uncultivated flats, presenting nothing to interest the wayfarer in his 
 daily toil, and making the road seem twice its real length, not to 
 speak of our longer Irish miles. There is little to indicate, as 
 you look across the Shannon, that anything in the shape of temptation 
 lies beyond the monotonous level before you : no one could suppose 
 that such charms as those which abound in the Western Highlands of 
 Ireland lie beyond these forbidding flats, which, duenna-like, scowl 
 upon you but to scare you away from beauty. Over this road had Finch 
 to travel, retracing a whole day's journey, at no time a pleasant thing 
 unless you have a very charming companion, but particularly ob- 
 jectionable when the road is such as we have described. It is nearly 
 as bad as eating one's words, to swallow such miles over again. So 
 Finch thought, and could not forbear telling Ned it was unfortunate 
 they did not know, the day before, the course Phaidrig had taken, 
 which would have spared them such annoyance ; but Ned, who knew 
 the scenery of the west, told his friend to be patient, and a few days 
 would reward him in the display of natural beauty, in which the 
 Atlantic side of Ireland abounds. 
 
 For some days they pursued the road to the westward, picking up 
 intelligence here and there about Phaidrig, whom they traced farther 
 and farther in the same direction at each remove. They crossed the 
 borders of Galway and entered Mayo, and found themselves the 
 succeeding evening in BaUinrobe, where the piper had been the day 
 before, and left, still pursuing, however, a westerly course. Ned and 
 Finch pushed onward on his trail, and soon Finch admitted the truth of 
 all his friend said respecting the beauty of the country, when the bold 
 yet graceful forms of the mountains which bound Lough Mask burst 
 on his view, with the fair expanse of waters they embrace, its woods 
 sweeping down to the indented shore, and its picturesque old castle 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 327 
 
 crowning a commanding height above the lake. It was a truly- 
 lovely scene, and Finch paid it the tribute of the warmest admiration. 
 " What a lovely country !" exclaimed the stranger. 
 " Yet how wretched !" returned the native, who knew it. " Oh, Finch, 
 it makes an Irishman's heart ache to see all that God has done for his 
 land marred, I may say annihilated, by man. Its natural resources 
 are matchless, or at least unsurpassed by any in the world, yet it is 
 poor and powerless under an iron tyranny. When will it end ?" 
 
 " Not in our time," returned Finch. " But I feel I am prophetic 
 in saying that half a century will produce a mighty change over the 
 face of all Europe, and in the general emancipation of mankind from 
 the present ascendency of despotism, Ireland must have a share. 
 Her remote position will retard her progress in the march of freedom 
 perhaps another half century ; but in 1846, Ned, your native country, 
 I predict, will hold her proper place among the nations." 
 
 " Heaven grant it !" exclaimed the young Irishman, with enthu- 
 siasm. " Oh, how the men of that day will look back on these 
 times with wonder that such things could be as are now enacted ! 
 When a son, for repelling a brutal assault upon his father, is obliged to 
 fly his native town, — when a people cannot bow their knee to their 
 God but in secret and in danger, and the price set on the head of a 
 wolf and priest is the same." 
 
 "Great Heaven ! and is that the case?" inquired Finch. 
 " It is, — such is the law." 
 " Ay, but is it ever put in force ?" 
 
 " Priests are sometimes hunted for their lives, even now," answered 
 Ned. 
 
 " Well," said Finch, setting his teeth hard, and clenching his hand 
 determinately, " if I were an Irishman, I would never submit to such 
 infamous tyranny. All Ireland should rise to a man, and fight against 
 it to the death !" ^ 
 
 While thus they were conversing of the miserable condition of the 
 fine country through which they passed, another charming view 
 opened upon them. A large mass of picturesque ruins appeared, 
 seated on the banks of an exquisitely beautiful river, whose clear and 
 rapid waters swept round the base of the mouldering walls, reflecting 
 arch and gable and pointed window on its limpid surface, and gushing 
 over an ancient weir, which had been constructed close beside the 
 abbey, that its original inmates might not have far to go for their 
 salmon. Of a verity the fast days of Cong in the olden time must 
 have been the feasts of the year, with such fish as its river could 
 furnish ; but as our travellers saw it, there were neither feasts nor 
 fasts ; its walls were desolate, its beautiful sculpture falling to decay ; 
 the place which had been a refuge and a home to the last king of 
 
328 iC S, d. 
 
 Ireland, was now itself, like the king it sheltered, robbed of its rights ; 
 its honours were no more, its revenues were transferred to others, — 
 revenues which had fed and taught the poor, and reared the elaborate 
 architecture which increased the beauty of the scene in which it rose. 
 And where were those revenues now? — Did they feed? — did they 
 teach? — did they build? Yes, they fed one man, — the Protestant 
 holder of the living. They taught, through him, the nominal pastor 
 of a parish to be at deadly feud with all his parishioners. They built 
 up an insuperable barrier between a people and their rulers. He 
 who received the tithes of that district had not one single soul within 
 his cure, and of course did not live there — there was no need ; he 
 could spend his revenues more pleasantly in England. "Why should 
 he live in a parish where there was no church ? An answer quite 
 sufficient to satisfy the conscience of any man who makes religion 
 merely the means of getting money, and in proportion as he gives no 
 value for his pay, makes it up in abuse of those from whom it is 
 derived. By such a rule of reckoning the people of Cong must have 
 been very well abused by their Protestant rector.* 
 
 While our travellers paused to bait their horses, they strolled into 
 the ruins, having the proprietor of the little hostelry for their cicerone, 
 who pointed out the objects most worthy of attention, and dwelt with 
 considerable pride on the fact that Roderick O'Connor, Ireland's last 
 king, was interred there. Having touched on this, he launched forth 
 enthusiastically in praise of the ill-fated Roderick, enumerating his 
 heroic deeds in the gallant stand he made against the invader, cursing 
 the treachery that betrayed him, and mourning his untimely fall. 
 But still there was more of triumph than mourning in the tone of the 
 peasant ; and while his eye gleamed as he spoke of the glories of the 
 past, Finch looked on with a quiet smile. 
 
 * This ma)' seem an exaggerated picture of a hundred years ago, but it cannot 
 be, inasmuch as it would serve for a faithful description of many parts of Ireland 
 in the present day. I have been for two consecutive Sundays at a place in Ireland 
 where I could not go to church, because the church was never opened, — there was 
 no service whatever, though the tithes were paid. I know a case of a clergyman 
 holding a living whose parish church is a small ruin standing in his OM-n laM-n, 
 where, I need not add, service is never performed. In the far west I know of a 
 union of parishes where there is no church at all ; the service I have seen per- 
 formed in the parlour of a resident protestant gentleman ; and I heard the clergy- 
 man say of one parish whence he derived tithes, (lying in the islands off the 
 coast,) that not only had he never visited this, his parish, but he did not eoen /moio 
 where it was. His tithe, I believe, was derivable from fish ; so that, as far as that 
 parish was concerned, he was more interested in the cure of herrings than the cure 
 ofsoids. Is such a state of things consistent with common sense or justice, or can 
 it tend to the honour of God? Or can it be expected a nation will not murmur 
 against such flagrant imposition? The wonder is they have submitted to it 
 so long. — Author. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 329 
 
 Ned, observing it, addressed him. *' You think it odd," he said, 
 *' that this poor fellow, in the midst of want, and in aland of wretched- 
 ness, bowed down by oppression, talks of bygone glories as familiar 
 things." 
 
 " By no means," replied Finch. " It is because the present is so 
 wretched that these people refer to the past, and under the pressure of 
 reality liy to whatever flatters the imagination. But the time will 
 come, Ned, when they will have a present to be proud of — 1846— a 
 century will do it. You stare, Ned, — you wonder to hear me talk 
 thus of political events. You think a dare-devil like me, who has 
 lived on the current stream of the times, is not the person to talk of 
 the large interests of mankind and the destinies of nations. But, 
 Ned, my lad, in my erratic life I have seen much, and I think you 
 do not believe me to be a man who lives with his eyes shut." 
 
 " Certainly I do not, nor with his mouth open. I don't think 
 I ever heard you talk so * right an end' before." 
 
 " Why, no, — I am an Englishman. We are not so excitable as 
 you Irish fellows, who, once fairly on the back of a subject, go very 
 much like a * beggar on horseback,' and you know where he rides to. 
 But get an Englishman screwed up to speak out, and he'll say it, — 
 and, by Jove, this Ireland is a place that has stirred my blood 
 strangely." 
 
 But, quitting the affairs of Ireland, they turned to the consideration 
 of their own ; and after consulting with their host on the point they 
 wished to reach, he recommended them to leave their horses with him, 
 and push across Lough Corrib, whereby the pass of Mam Turc would 
 be reached with more ease and speed. Acting on his advice, they pro- 
 cured a boat of very rough construction, and a boatman to match, 
 and Ned was once more on the waters of Corrib. As they stretched 
 away towards the head of the lake a small island lay upon their left; 
 as they passed, the boatman bowed his head reverentially. 
 
 Finch, noticing the action, inquired the cause. 
 
 *' Sure an isn't that Irich a Guila, your honour, where there is the 
 remains of a church that St. Patrick built himself, and called afther his 
 own name, Tempitl Phaidrig, and no one hereabouts ever passes that 
 blessed spot without bowin' the head to it." 
 
 Finch drew from his pocket a small telescope, and directing his 
 view to the island, observed some ruins ; the only ascertainable form 
 amongst them being a little Eoman arch, which stood out in distinct 
 relief against the sky. 
 
 As they passed along, the boatman had legend and tradition of 
 many a spot in the neighbourhood, and bid them " just wait a bit 
 till they came to the upper lake, where Caistla na Kirha, or the 
 Hen's Castle, stood ; and it was called the Hen's Castle because a 
 
330 dt S, CI. 
 
 mother, in the ould times, built that same in the middle of the lake, to 
 keep her boy bejant the grab of a wicked uncle that wanted to lay 
 howlt of him." 
 
 " Like the children in the wood," said Finch. 
 
 " Not a bit like it," said the man ; " for the divil a bit o' wood is on 
 that same rock, only stone, and not much of that same." 
 
 " You give but a poor account of the lady's territory." 
 
 " And great territory she was in, sure enough; and no wondher she 
 was frekened, with that thievin' uncle afther the babby." 
 
 The lake now began to narrow, bounded on each side by hills of 
 considerable height and beautiful form, increasing in loftiness and 
 Alpine character as the boat advanced; while farther still in the distance 
 the water seemed bounded by a mass of mountains, forming a perfect 
 labyrinth of beautiful forms, as their outlines interlaced one with an- 
 other, and peak after peak spired into the clouds. 
 
 The scene was of that surpassing beauty which imposes silence on 
 the beholder, and mutely Finch and Ned cast their eyes around them, 
 the exclamation only of " How beautiful ! " escaping at intervals ; for 
 Ned had never seen this portion of the lake before, and was in no less 
 admiring wonder than his friend. From time to time they asked the 
 boatman to rest on his oars, that they might dwell on some fresh- 
 opened point of view, which became more and more beautiful as they 
 advanced. The autumn had shed her varied tints on the scene; and 
 the long wild grass, the ferns, and the heather, which clad the hills on 
 either side, were enriched by the contrast of grand masses of limestone 
 rock, which seemed to form the frame-work of the structure whereon 
 all this enrichment had been wrought; and the blue tint of that laby- 
 rinth of hills, still in the distance, made the golden hues of the fore- 
 ground more vivid. Finch thought nothing could surpass in beauty 
 what he had already seen, but there was a crowning loveliness yet in 
 store. Where the lake seemed to terminate, up rose from its tranquil 
 bosom a conical hill of considerable height, crowned at its summit, and 
 fringed to its very edge, with clustering woods of oaks, whose sturdier 
 forms and thicker foliage were occasionally relieved by the graceful 
 line and silvery glitter, and waving sprays of the bright-barked birch. 
 
 It was a view to surfeit one with loveliness — to make one gaze 
 
 " Till the sense aches ;" — 
 
 and it was with such a feeling Finch declared it the most beautiful 
 scene he had ever beheld. And now they approached the base of the 
 wood-crowned hill, whose leafy beauty was multiplied by reflection in 
 the calm waters at its feet — and here a fresh surprise was in reserve. 
 A narrow passage between this wooded hill and an adjacent overhanging 
 height formed an inlet to tlie upper lake, whose stern grandeur was 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 331 
 
 startling — in such sudden contrast to the softness of the recent view. 
 The inlet was passed, and a region of desolate loneliness struck a chill 
 to the heart. Stark sterility was there, and a silence that was oppres- 
 sive ; the scene would have been repellant but for the noble outline of 
 the overhanging mountains, which blended beauty with awe in a sin- 
 gular degree ; but awe predominated. A vast sheet of dark deep water 
 lay imprisoned within these giant hills ; and, standing in the midst, 
 was a small castle perched on a rock barely above the water's edge, and 
 merely affording foundation for the building. It was Caistla na 
 Kirha, The thought was painful, that any one could have been so 
 driven by fear as to 
 
 " Dwell in that desolate place ;" 
 for, truly, to continue the poet's words, who so dwelt might have said, 
 
 " 1 am out of humanity's reach." 
 The only living thing whose dwelling it might legitimately be, was the 
 eagle, that solitary lord of mountain wilds, who, in the true spirit of a 
 marauder, seeks the valley and the -plain but for plunder, and makes 
 his home in the hills. 
 
 The place might be deemed the very sanctuary of Silence ; so much 
 so, that it appeared a sort of sacrilege to disturb its waters with the 
 oar. The very boatman, the uncultured hind, relaxed his vigour, 
 and pulled more gently. 
 
 While thus they glided over the dark waters, a boat suddenly shot 
 forth from the castellated rock, and pulled up the lake in advance of 
 our travellers. The circumstance attracted the attention of all, and it 
 seemed the boat ahead was urged with considerable speed, so much so, 
 as to suggest the notion of escape. Finch at once made use of his 
 telescope, and the fugitives seemed to be a male and female peasant ; 
 but, as he observed more intently, it struck him that, in these apparent 
 peasants, he discovered the features of Lynch and Ellen. 
 
 " What do you make them out?" said Ned. 
 
 " Look," replied Finch, handing him the glass. 
 
 In an instant there was a shout of surprise from Ned, who exclaimed, 
 " 'Tis she! 'tis she! — Give way, there! — pull for your life!" He 
 stood up in the boat, waved his hat, and shouted at the top of his voice, 
 but this only seemed to urge the headmost boat to greater speed. 
 
 " Let us take the oars. Finch!" exclaimed Ned, suiting the action to 
 the word, and seizing one of them. Finch followed his example, and 
 the boatman was relieved of his toil by the powerful hands that now 
 made the frail boat tremble under their strokes, and bound through 
 the water. The effort on board the chase seemed also to increase ; 
 fast flashed the water around her, but still the rearward boat was 
 gaining. Ned was in a state of painful excitement. " Tliey fear us. 
 
332 <£ S. d. 
 
 manifestly," he said; "but if we could only gain upon them sufficiently 
 to let them see us, what happiness it would be for all parties ! Pull, 
 Finch! — pull for your life, man!" 
 
 " By dad, you'll pull the side out of her betune you, if you pull any 
 sthronger I " said the boatman ; and indeed the crazy craft strained and 
 shook under each stroke of the oars, and seemed likely to fulfil the 
 boatman's prophecy — but still the rowers relaxed not. 
 
 Thus, for about half an hour, the chase continued, when the boat of 
 the fugitives suddenly doubled round some rocks at the upper end of 
 the lake, and disappeared. Ned's excitement increased at losing sight 
 of her, and he employed greater exertion himself, and urged his friend 
 to the same, amidst exclamations of disappointment, fear, and hope. 
 The lapse of time was short between the doubling of ^the boats round 
 the point. That in pursuit came rushing to the shore, and ran higli 
 upon it with her own force. Out jumped Ned — but the poor fellow 
 had the mortification of seeing, a few paces further on, pulled ashore 
 under the shelter of an overhanging rock, the boat that had contained 
 his treasure, lying empty. Ned was almost frantic, and enacted those 
 absurdities which men will be guilty of under great excitement ; he 
 stamped, and ground his teeth, and tore his hair ; and, clenching his 
 uplifted hand, and casting a look of bitter vexation upon the deserted 
 boat, swore, in no very measured terms, that — " it was too bad ! " 
 
S- i!,oA^M^•^ 
 
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 London; K J. over,y\!cirno Chajnbers. I'aternoster llow, ifltJ 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 333 
 
 CHAPTER XLIIL 
 
 While Ned was lamenting liis hard fate, Lynch and his daughter 
 were making their utmost endeavours to ascend the mountain side by 
 a steep and rugged path, known but to few, leading to a deep and not 
 very perceptible ravine, where a small crevice in the cliff afforded 
 temporary concealment ; which, having reached, they sat down to 
 recover breath after their toilsome and rapid run. Neither could speak 
 for some minutes ; Lynch was the first to break the silence. 
 
 " Nell," he said — and the affection which beamed in his eye was the 
 more touching from the sadness with which it was blended — " this is 
 a hard life for you, my girl ; would to God you were anywhere else!" 
 
 " Thank God, I am here!" was the answer, as she grasped his hand, 
 and pressed it to her heart. " Do you think I could be happy away 
 from you ? — the anxiety and uncertainty I should then endure would 
 be worse than the toil and privation we sometimes are forced to 
 undergo together." 
 
 " You are a brave girl, Nell, and Heaven will reward you some 
 day, I trust, for all your heroic and tender devotion; but if this lasts 
 much longer I fear you will sink under it — and then what should I 
 do without you?" 
 
 " Indeed, father, I never felt better in health in all my life ; I often 
 remember that beautiful phrase — " The Lord tempereth the wind to 
 the shorn lamb," — and I feel as if I had preternatural power bestowed 
 upon me to sustain me through our trials, which, with God's help, will 
 soon be over, I trust." 
 
 " Amen ! But I am so beset, my girl, — watched so narrowly, and 
 hunted so closely, that it is hard indeed to avoid the toils. Driven 
 but the other day from the abbey, and now, wlien I thought we 
 might reckon on quiet for a few days in that lonely lake, again 
 disturbed. I may soon be driven to sword and pistol for personal 
 defence, and in that case your presence would but embarrass me. 
 AYould to Heaven you were in a place of safety ! " 
 
 " Think of anything, dear father, but a separation ! Even if you 
 commanded, I think, in that case, I should be disobedient, and would 
 
3S4: £ S, (L 
 
 not leave you — I say, would not — I had better say, could not ! " And 
 she wound her arm gently round the soldier's neck. 
 
 A slight quivering of his lip was the only evidence of Lynch's 
 emotion, which was deep nevertheless. 
 
 " Darling Nell, you must lie down and sleep ; you need to be fresli 
 for the long walk we must take to-night." 
 
 " Indeed, father, I need it not." 
 
 " Nell, this is not separation) you must obey me. I insist on your 
 sleeping." 
 
 " I have taken that walk before, father, and think nothing of it." 
 
 " Nell, you'll make me angry ! " 
 
 There was a tone in his voice which Ellen understood so well, that 
 she made no further remonstrance. The truth was, she did want rest, 
 but liked not the idea of her father being left to his own gloomy thoughts; 
 for her principal object in being with him was to endeavour to divert 
 the melancholy which began to settle on him. Now, however, in 
 obedience to his will, she went forth, and plucked the long, seared 
 grass, and fern, and heather, which grew at the entrance of their rocky 
 hiding-place, and, spreading this simple provision at the inmost corner 
 of the narrow nook, she drew the large blue cloak of the peasant garb, 
 in which she was disguised, around her — and she who had been used 
 to the downy couches of Paris, lay down patiently on this humble bed. 
 She could not sleep for some time, but, to please her father, pretended 
 to do so. This feigning, made for so amiable a purpose, soon induced 
 the reality; and the father found alleviation of his troubles in kneeling 
 beside his sleeping girl, in prayer. 
 
 Ned, after looking up and down in the neighbourhood of tlie boat, 
 was fain to give up the chase as lost, and yielded, per force, to the 
 advice of Finch, to continue their course to the landing, which would 
 place them on the path to the pass of Mam Turc. Once more they 
 pushed off on the lake, and half an hour brought them to the end of 
 their water journey, where, after ample directions were given by the 
 boatman for pursuing the right road, he assured them the natural for- 
 mation of the pass would sufficiently " direct them without any direction 
 at all ;" and after losing full ten minutes on this profitless liarangue, 
 Ned and his friend started on the double pursuit of the piper, if he 
 should fall in their way, or the treasure, if they got nearer to that 
 before they met with Phaidrig. After they had toiled over a preci- 
 pitous mountain, for three or four hours, and the shadows of evening 
 were overtaking them without any visible shelter for the night Avithin 
 view, though they had already achieved more than the distance at 
 which the boatman promised them some shepherds' huts; when, in 
 fact, they began to feel rather uncomfortable at the prospect of passing 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 335 
 
 the night in an unknown mountain region, with nothing over their 
 heads but the "canopy of heaven," (which, though beautifully spangled, 
 is none of the warmest in the nights of autumn,) just then their attention 
 was attracted by the approach of a dog, which came running towards 
 them at speed, and made a circuit round them, sniffing in that peculiar 
 manner by which the animal makes his acquaintances, and retains a 
 recollection of them. He sniffed first at Finch, and then at Ned; but, 
 in the latter case, one sniff was not enough — he repeated the action 
 again and again, and uttered an impatient whine, which spoke as plainly 
 as dog could speak — *• Bless my heart, where have I met you before?" 
 " The dog knows you," said Finch. 
 
 " It seems so," said Ned; " and yet I do not remember him." 
 A louder yelp escaped the animal. 
 
 " You see, he takes no notice of me," said Finch. " You are his 
 object of recognition : if his master be near, you are closer to a friend 
 than you think." 
 
 " It might be an enemy,' said Ned. *' How are we to know he is 
 the dog of a friend?" 
 
 "Like master, like dog," said Finch; " and that dog entertains amity." 
 The dog gave two or three snorts, as if to clear his ducts of scent 
 of all impression they had already imbibed, took a fresh sniff at Ned, 
 and a short bark followed. 
 
 " By Jove!" exclaimed Ned, on sudden recollection, — " Could it be 
 the piper's dog?" 
 
 " That would be luck indeed ! " said Finch. 
 
 " I'll ascertain in a moment," said Ned. " I remember his name 
 
 was ^ . Confound it! — why can't I remember? His 
 
 name was What the deuce is this he was called?" 
 
 Finch came to his aid, and ran through a bead-roll of dogs' names, 
 to which Ned as constantly returned " No." 
 "Caisar?" 
 « No." 
 ^'Buffer?" 
 « No." 
 "Pompey?" 
 " No." 
 "Prince?" 
 
 " No — none of those common names — and yet it was the name of 
 an Irish prince, too, I remember — one of the O'Connors ! " 
 " Paddy ?" said Finch, with a smile. 
 
 " Confound you !" returned Ned ; though he could not help joining 
 in the laugh ; "what a name for a prince ! — Paddy O'Connor — Stop 
 — I have it!" cried Ned, clapping his hands — " ' Turloughr — that's 
 the name ! " 
 
336 £ S. d. 
 
 The moment tlie word escaped his lips the dog bounded^ towards 
 him, and testified extreme joy; while Ned, still calling him by his 
 name, with all the usual praises of " good fellow," and so forth, almost 
 hugged him with delight. "Yes, Finch!" he exclaimed, " Phaidrig 
 cannot be far off." Then, turning to the dog, he ran through several 
 sporting phrases, such as, " Where is he, boy? — To him, lad! — Phai- 
 drig, Phaidrig ! — Where is he? — Find him out, boy!" 
 
 The intelligent brute seemed to understand his meaning perfectly, 
 answering his calls by expressive looks and short barks — bounding 
 forward in advance, then turning round, wagging his tail, and bark- 
 ing, as much as to say — " Follow me !" The travellers accepted his 
 invitation; and, while they followed, Ned expatiated on the extra- 
 ordinary intelligence of this animal. " He only saw me once before," 
 said he; " and that, some years ago; but the occasion was a remarkable 
 one, certainly." 
 
 " And yet you did not remember him," said Finch. 
 
 " That may be readily accounted for," replied Ned, " by its having 
 been night when we met ; and sight fails in the dark, though scent 
 does not." 
 
 " Showing the superior power of that faculty, in some cases," returned 
 Finch ; though we speak so contemptuously of people being led by the 
 nose." 
 
 While thus they conversed, lauding TurlougWs intelligence, he, 
 like a modest dog, held his tongue ; for the moment he found himself 
 followed he went on silently. Suddenly they lost sight of him, but 
 pushed on nevertheless, fancying he had passed some turn in advance. 
 At this moment they were engaged in a narrow defile, with a wall- 
 like barrier of rock on each side, so perfectly inaccessible as to call 
 forth the notice of the travellers upon its qualities for defence. They 
 turned an angle in the path, but they could not see the dog before 
 them ; at that moment, however, they heard his voice, and the next 
 instant he came running after, headed them, and barked, as if to turn 
 them back. They paused, and Turlo^igh retraced his road, and 
 stopping before a large mass of rock, shivered as if with lightning, he 
 entered one of the crevices, whence a small rill was trickling. They 
 followed, and soon began to ascend a little water-course, and ere long 
 the sound of a large stream was heard. Still onward plashed Tiw- 
 lougli through the water, which it soon appeared was but a small 
 escapement from a mountain stream, which the dog soon after crossed, 
 clambered up the opposite side, and stood on the summit, barking his 
 invitation to his friends below. They were obliged to strip off their 
 shoes and stockings before they could follow ; and wading the stream, 
 whose slippery bottom of smooth round stones needed careful treading, 
 they got safely over, clambered the opposite bank, and continued to 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 337 
 
 ascend a sharp accHvitj, partly morass, or, where the ground was 
 firm, covered with long grass, so slippery, from the constant drainage 
 of the liillj as to render ascent a work of labour. At length a small 
 table-land was gained, crowned by a noble group of rocks, which 
 bore a fortress-like aspect, and to this place the dog ran at his utmost 
 speed, sjDrang up its side, and disappeared, though his bark could be 
 heard when he was no longer visible. Ned and Finch continued 
 their course towards the rocks, but before they had reached their 
 base they perceived two figures on the summit, one of whom was 
 Phaidrig. Ned shouted with delight at sight of him, and called on 
 his name blithely ; the piper clapped his hands for joy, Tur- 
 lough, barking, rushed down the rocks and jumped round Ned, 
 while Phaidrig was hastening towards him, assisted by his com- 
 panion, and, when within reach of Ned, the warm-hearted piper could 
 not resist, in the impulse of his joy, hugging Ned to his heart, while 
 he poured out blessings on the happy minute that brought him back, 
 mingling his pious ejaculations with a wild " liurroo'^ and a fantastic 
 caper now and then. 
 
 " Musha, but you're welkim ! — hurroo ! — What the divil kep' you 
 so long away ? — the Lord be praised for his mercies, — sure I knew 
 you'd turn up some day ; — and won't she be glad of it, the darlin'. Oh, 
 murther, Masther Ned, but I'm the happy blackguard this minit ! — 
 hurroo ! Only it's too late, I'd be off and bring you there ; but wait 
 till to-morrow ; — we'll rise with the lark, go as sthrait as the crow, 
 take the wather like the duck, see the fair swan, and then you may coo 
 like the dove. Hurroo ! — Where's my pipes ? By Jakers, I'll play 
 this night till I split the bag ! And how are you. Captain Finch ?" 
 
 " How do you know I'm here ?" 
 
 " Don't I hear you laughing at me ? — Laugh away — my heart is 
 as full as a barn with joy, and by the powers we'll thrash it out to 
 night. Come in wid you, — I suppose you are tired and hungry, — 
 come in. And how did you find me out ?" 
 
 " We've been tracing you from place to place for many days," said 
 Ned, '' but at last had the good fortune to meet Turlouyli, and he 
 remembered me, and led us here." 
 
 *' Signs on him !" said Phaidrig. " Tiirlough, ma houchal, come to 
 me !" The dog sprang to him, and Phraidrig, stooping, patted his 
 head while the dog licked his face. Don't be shocked, ladies, at the 
 coarseness of this fact ; it is an author's business to tell truth. 
 " TurloiKjh, my jewel, you've more gumption than a counsellor, and 
 a betther heart than most o' them. Hurroo ! — Come in, and have 
 something to ate, and make haste, or there will be none left," and he 
 dragged Ned along. 
 
 z 
 
338 
 
 £ s, d. 
 
 " But how came Turlougli to be so far away from you ?" in- 
 quired Ned. 
 
 " For the ray son I want you to come in, — because we're short of 
 ateables, though the dhrink is plenty ; and so I towld Turlough to 
 go and pick up a bit for himself, and it was maraudin' about he was, 
 lookin' for a rabbit or a hare Avhen he seen you ; but the sinsible 
 craythur, he knew betther than go huntin' and lave his friends on the 
 road. Where is he ?" 
 
 " He's gone off now," said Phaidrig's comrade of the rock. 
 
 " See that !" said Phaidrig. " Now that he has done his duty to 
 others he thinks of himself. Oh, I wish all the Christians was like 
 him ! Come in, — come in now, Masther Ned, — and you, too, Captain 
 Finch, are lieartily welcome." 
 
 With these words Finch and Ned were conducted up the pile of 
 rocks, and when near the summit an ample opening, downwards, ap- 
 peared, into which they descended; this natural chasm, spanned 
 across with boughs of birch and thatched with heather, forming 
 a rude but not uncomfortable habitation. 
 
 It was a wildly picturesque retreat. In the recesses of the cave 
 arms were piled, which the flickering light of a turf fire brought out 
 in bright touches, sparkling through the shadowy depth with a 
 Rembrandtish piquancy. Trophies and implements of the chase were 
 suspended from the roof, or rested here and there along the sides of 
 the cavern. Feathers and skins of bird and beast made a motley sort 
 of tapestry, which hung fantastically around, and gave a barbaric air 
 to the place, which some of the costumes of the inmates tended to 
 increase. The fur of the hare contributed caps and waistcoats to not 
 a few, and other cuts and materials of costume would have astonished 
 a fashionable tailor. 
 
 Some eight or ten persons were just beginning a meal, in a 
 remarkably unceremonious fashion. A jutting rock of tabular form 
 served for about five of them to ** cut their mutton" on, while the 
 remainder sat where they could, and rested their trenchers on their 
 knees. The former rejoiced in tlie lofty title of the " board of green 
 cloth," being covered with a rude matting of fresh rushes, while the 
 stragglers were named " the boys of the side table." One in a faded 
 uniform was called " cook," and was engaged in serving out broth 
 from an iron pot, his ladle being formed of a large scallop shell, tied 
 on the end of a peeled hazel twig. 
 
 The party who conducted the new comers called a halt to those 
 within. '* I say, lads, here are two hungry recruits come to join our 
 mess, and, as the commons are short, start fair." 
 
 Finch and Ned were received with a merry welcome, and seats at 
 
TREASURE TROVE. .130 
 
 the board of green clotli were given up to tlic visitors, with an 
 expression of regret that they chanced to call when the larder was 
 so ill provided. 
 
 Ned requested they would make no apologies, and reminded them 
 it was Friday, on which day it was fit to fast. 
 
 " And pretty catholics you find us here," said one of the party, 
 '' eating meat nevertheless." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Donovan !". replied the cook, helping the 
 broth. " I'll swear this is fasting fare ; for whatever comes out of 
 a scallop shell must be fish. Isn't that good theology ?" 
 
 " The doctors of the Sorhonne could not make better," said one of 
 the boys of the side table. 
 
 " Couldn't make better ?" repeated the cook. " Is it the theology 
 or the broth you mean." 
 
 " Both," replied the other. 
 
 " Good boy, Dillon !" said the cook. " Hold out your pannikin, 
 and I'll help you for that. 
 
 Dillon obeyed ; and as the cook ladled him his portion, he said, 
 " There's some theology for you !" 
 
 " I wish there was a little more meat in it," said Dillon. 
 
 " That would be divinity," returned the cook, — " you confuse your 
 terms. Master Dillon. — Allow me, sir," he said, addressing Finch, " to 
 help you to some of this infusion ; I think I can fish you up a bit of 
 solid, — observe, I saidj^.s/i." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," replied Finch, " but I have no scruple of 
 conscience on the subject, as I happen to be a protestant." 
 
 " A protestant !" exclaimed the cook. " Oh, then, sir," said he, 
 with an air of burlesque politeness, "pray take the ladle and help 
 yourself, for that's the protestant fashion in Ireland." 
 
 Finch heartily joined in the laugh which the comicality of the 
 rejoinder excited, while he admired the address of the man who could 
 utter so bitter a sarcasm without giving ofience ; for the tact and good 
 humour with which it was done rendered it innoxious, — the point 
 only tickled, it did not sting. 
 
 " I think it is time you stopped your mouth," said one of his 
 comrades, when the laughter subsided. 
 
 " Faith, I think so too," replied he, helping himself " I'll stop 
 my mouth like the rest o' ye." 
 
 Thus they went on, cracking their jokes about the slenderness of 
 their meal and poverty of their accommodation. Many a sumptuous 
 board had not such mirth and wit about it ; and all this occurring in 
 a wild mountain hiding-place, amongst a set of men whose lives 
 were in daily jeopardy, struck Finch with surprise and admiration. 
 They talked of such and such a hunt : reminiscences were made, 
 
 z 2 
 
340 £ s, d. 
 
 such as " The time I was living at the hall," — '^ The night of Lady 
 Lucy's rout," — " When the Prince went to the opera," — " The day we 
 dined with the Marshal," — all these things were remembered in their 
 present privation without an apparent regret: they seemed to be just 
 as merry, as light and bold-hearted, as if their hunts and halls, and 
 Lady Lucies and Marshals, were theirs as much as ever. They took 
 their present condition as a part of life's drama they must go through, 
 with as much nonchalance as an actor assumes the character of a 
 king or an outcast on the stage, and leaves it off when the curtain is 
 down. Just so these daring fellows looked forward to getting their 
 own again, and resuming their proper place in society ; but in the 
 meantime were just as jolly as ever. Many of them were fugitives 
 from Scotland, after the fatal day of CuUoden ; but though tlie 
 cause they loved was at a low ebb for the present, they hoped for fresh 
 aid from France and Spain, and were willing to " bide their time" in 
 their present difficulties. 
 
 The cook's functions having ceased, another comrade, under the title 
 of " cellarman," was called upon ; and his department was in a more 
 palmy state than that of his brother officer. A keg of whisky — tlie 
 right " mountain-dew" — was placed in the midst ; the brotherhood 
 gathered round, and, basking in the blaze of a turf fire, which gave, at 
 once, light and warmth to the cave, the theological cook recommended 
 a dram after their fish. 
 
 The cellarman requested he would confine himself to his own 
 business, and not interfere with his department ; and indulged in some 
 sportive exposition of the intimate relation between soul and spirit as 
 he served a dram to each of the party. 
 
 " By-the-bye," said Finch, '• I am surprised that there should be 
 any want for fish, in reality, here. I should have expected there was 
 salmon in plenty." 
 
 " Oh, the salmon is plenty enough, sir," replied the cook; " the matter 
 is, to catcli it ; and we have only one fislierman amongst us — Master 
 Blake over there is our Izaak AValton, and he came home empty 
 lianded." 
 
 " I had but little luck to-day, I own," said Blake. 
 
 " Little luck!" repeated he of the ladle ; " your fisherman's language 
 always needs translation— and 'little luck' means * no fish!'" 
 
 " They would not rise!" said Blake. 
 
 " As for rising — they are waiting for the Spaniards, mayb(^, to do 
 ihaff like ourselves : — try a Spanish fly next time, Blake." 
 
 " That would be a blister!" said the fisherman. 
 
 " Well, a blister rises — maybe 'twould rise the salmon — and that's 
 more than you can do." 
 
 A laugh rewarded the cook for this successful hit at the angler, who 
 
TllEASURE TROVE. 341 
 
 took it most good-humouredly, and only threw back a sportive " Bad 
 luck to you !" — with wishing him " a blister on his tongue." 
 
 " Tongues are only blistered when people tell lies — and that's truth 
 I told now." 
 
 " He has you again, Blake!" was the cry. 
 
 "Come Ffrench!" said Blake— for Ffrench was the name of the 
 temporary head of the culinary department — " if I can't always rise a 
 salmon, you can always raise the song ; and, better than the fish, your 
 songs are always in season." 
 
 " Songs are not unlike fishes," replied Ffrench. " A song is the 
 spawn of a poet ; and, when healthy, a thing of life and feeling, that 
 should increase and multiply, and become food for the world ! Here 
 is one, that all Ireland, at least, will heartily digest." 
 
 jfh m ^calac6»* 
 
 Fill the cup, my brothers, 
 
 To pledge a toast, 
 Which, beyond all others. 
 
 We prize the most : 
 As yet 'tis but a notion 
 
 We dare not name ; 
 But soon o'er land and ocean 
 
 'Twill ily -with fame ! 
 Then give the game before us 
 
 One view holla, 
 Hip ! hurra ! in chorus, 
 
 ,ifa3 an Bralac^ ! 
 
 AVe our hearts cr.n fling, boys, 
 
 O'er this notion. 
 As the sea-bird's wing, boys, 
 
 Dips the ocean. 
 'Tis too deep for words, boys, 
 
 The thought we know — 
 So, like the ocean-bird, boys. 
 
 We touch and go : 
 For dangers deep, surrounding 
 
 Our hopes might swallow ; 
 So, through the tempest boundin' 
 
 jfag an liralarl^ ! 
 
 « Pronounced, Faiig a Bolh, meaning " leave the road," or » clear the \vay.' 
 
342 £ s, d. 
 
 in. 
 
 This thought with glory rife, boys, 
 
 Did brooding dwell. 
 Till time did give it life, boys, 
 
 To break the shell : 
 'Tis in our hearts yet lying. 
 
 An unfledg'd thing ; 
 But soon, an eaglet flying, 
 
 'Twill take the wing I 
 For 'tis no timeling frail, boys — 
 
 No summer swallow — 
 'Twill live through winter's gale, boys, 
 :ffaq an 13eaIacTj ! , 
 
 Lawyers may indict us 
 By crooked laws, 
 
 Soldiers strive to fright us 
 From country's cause ; 
 
 But we will sustain it 
 Living — dying — 
 
 Point of law or bay'net 
 Still defying ! 
 
 Let their parchment rattle- 
 Drums are hollow: 
 
 So is lawyer's prattle — 
 
 Jfas an Ijfalar fj : 
 
 Better early graves, boys— 
 
 Dark locks gory. 
 Than bow the head as slaves, boys, 
 
 When they're hoary. 
 Fight it out we must, boys, 
 
 Hit or miss it — 
 Better bite the dust, boys. 
 
 Than to kiss it ! 
 For, dust to dust, at last, boys, 
 
 Death ivill swallow — 
 Hark ! — the trumpet's blast, boys, 
 
 jfaQ an Bfalar^ '. 
 
 The song was received with rapture, and the chorus went with a 
 shout. The inuendo of the early verses pleased every man, who 
 translated it to his own taste; — the very cause why inuendo is always 
 so successful in pleasing or annoying : — the individual imagination of 
 every hearer does more than the most elaborate ende^ivours of the poet 
 could achieve. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 343 
 
 Even after the song was ended, the men were humming snatches of 
 it, and the refrain of " Fag an Bealach" was echoed from mouth to 
 mouth. The theme stirred their blood, and Phaidrig was called on to 
 play the " Blackbird" in his tip-top style. 
 
 It was an unusual thing for Phaidrig to be left so long idle ; one 
 cause of it, perhaps, was that he kept in the back-ground, engaged 
 with Ned in earnest discourse about Ellen, while the rest were em- 
 ployed on more stormy subjects ; but, once being enlisted in the busi- 
 ness of the evening, (and after Fag an Bealach,) he knew they would 
 make a roaring night of it, so giving Ned a hint " to take care of his 
 head," which Ned took occasion to repeat to Finch, Phaidrig "yoked" 
 his pipes, and there was no patriotic strain on record which was 
 left uncalled for. 
 
 Meanwhile the cellarman's keg was getting lighter every moment, 
 and, along with it, the heads of the company, till at last there was such 
 an exuberance of patriotism, that several gentlemen were singing 
 different songs at the same time ; while Phaidrig, under the special 
 patronage of Ffrench, was lilting particularly wicked tunes above 
 them all. 
 
 At last, the noise, by degrees, died off; the dry lairs of fern and 
 heather, which surrounded the cave, were occupied by those who were 
 able to find their way to them, and the silence of sleep succeeded the 
 loud wassail which had startled the night wind as it swept the summit 
 of that lonely mountain. 
 
344 ' £ 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 The next morning the guests of the mountain retreat bade adieu 
 to their entertainers, and started under Phaidrig's guidance. On the 
 road the piper had been put into possession of the business which 
 brought Finch to the west, and arranged, in consequence, a double 
 plan of action. He promised Finch a guide, who should lead him to 
 a certain point in the neighbourhood where his venture lay, promising 
 that he and Ned would join him after having seen Ellen. Their moun- 
 tain track was beguiled of its length and toil by the interchange of 
 intelligence between Ned and the piper respecting the various fortunes 
 which had befallen Lynch and his daughter in Scotland, and Ned in 
 his pursuit of them. Those of the former were of painful interest ; 
 their numerous hair-breadth escapes — their wanderings, concealments, 
 privations, and final escape from Scotland, formed a romance of more 
 terrible reality than was ever conjured up by fiction; and their sub- 
 sequent sufferings in Ireland were not less deplorable, though of a 
 more monotonous character ; — it was an unbroken series of anxious 
 watchings and hidings to escape detection ; for Lynch had rendered 
 himself so obnoxious to the authorities, by the extent and frequency 
 of his former enlistments in Ireland, and subsequent endeavours to 
 foment a rising in the young Pretender's favour, that a large reward 
 was offered for his apprehension ; but the cupidity of meaner enemies, 
 thus excited, he had less cause to dread than the personal rancour 
 entertained by some, high in power, who were straining every nerve 
 to discover and arrest him. 
 
 " Why does he not fly the country?" said Ned, "instead of living 
 within this circle of entrapment you describe." 
 
 " That's no such aisy matter," said Phaidrig. " All the passes out 
 o' Gal way are watched; and as for getting off by the coast, it is so 
 lined with cruizcrs, that it would be madness to attempt it, unless one 
 had some fast boat that could go like the wind ; and you know we 
 could get nothing here but a heavy fishing boat." 
 
 " Wait till I have a talk with the captain," said Ned. " I think 
 I see a way of stealing a march on the enemy." 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 345 
 
 " Musha, how?" 
 
 " If we could get him further down to the south, where he does not 
 enjoy so dangerous a celebrity, an escape might be managed thence." 
 
 " Ay, there's the matter! — but how to get out of Gal way is the 
 murther — for every pass in it is watched ! " 
 
 " My plan is this," said Ned : " let a boat be in readiness on the 
 west bank of the Shannon at a given place ; we must get a first-rate 
 horse for the captain ; in one night he could cross the county, get on 
 board, and drop down the river to Limerick, where an embarkation on 
 board some ship bound to an English port, could be effected ; and, 
 once safe in England, I'll engage to manage a flitting to France — 
 that's a road I know well. What think you. Finch ?" 
 
 " It looks well; but I don't know the nature of the country on the 
 river." 
 
 " It is admirably suited to the purpose — sufficiently wide to give 
 the opportunity, in case of being threatened from the shore, to take the 
 choice of either bank for a landing ; and pursuit by water need not be 
 dreaded, for boats are far from plenty on the river." 
 
 " I think you hit it off well," said Phaidrig. <« We'll talk to the 
 masther about it ; and now. Captain Finch, we must" soon part com- 
 pany ; you ought to be seeing some huts soon, forninst you, high up 
 a Httle to the right." 
 
 Ned and Finch, on looking in the direction indicated, saw some 
 smoke rising from a little dingle in the hill side ; and there, Phaidrig 
 told them, lived the guide to whose care he intended to confide the 
 captain. Half an hour brought them to the hut ; the goatherd under- 
 took the trust requested ; a place was appointed for their reunion in a 
 few days, and the friends separated. 
 
 As Ned and Phaidrig now pursued their journey, they could talk 
 uninterruptedly of Ellen, and she, therefore, formed the theme of their 
 discourse for some hours, as they bent their way back again towards 
 Corrib's upper lake. Ned inquired of the piper how he could tell 
 where Lynch had retreated after leaving the castle. Phaidrig, with a 
 chuckle, answered, " By a way of my own — aisy enough when you 
 see it." 
 
 " But you are going back now direct for the place you have left?" 
 
 " Ay, I must first go there, before I can tell where they are. You'll 
 see all about it soon." 
 
 As Phaidrig said, the means were simple enough whereby he ascer- 
 tained the course the fugitives had pursued. On reaching the spot 
 where Lynch and Ellen landed, the boat was still lying there ; on 
 hearing this, Phaidrig said Lynch must have considered himself 
 closely pressed, or he would have placed the boat in its regular secret 
 haven. " But now to find out where they are gone!" Saying which, he 
 
346 £ S. d. 
 
 groped for a fissure in the rock, and putting in his arm to its utmost 
 length, drew forth a little twig of birch. Phaidrig held out the branch 
 in a theatrical manner before him, and assuming an air of great import- 
 ance, uttered, in a measured, pompous manner, the following words, 
 which he addressed to the stick : — 
 
 *' I command you, upon the vartue of your oath, to tell me where 
 them you know is gone !" He then applied the stick to his ear, and 
 gave a nod of satisfaction, and told Ned it was all right ; that Lynch 
 and Ellen were about five hours' journey out of that spot. 
 
 Ned laughed at this piece of mock magic, in which the piper's 
 sportive humour had indulged, acknowledging his trick was a good 
 one, and the means of communication simple indeed. 
 
 " Simple enough," said Phaidrig, presenting the twig to Ned ; 
 " look at that, — do you see anything on it ?" 
 
 " Yes, several small nicks." 
 
 " Count them." 
 
 " Seven." 
 
 " That's the whole art and mystery of it," said Phaidrig. " You 
 persaive that manes they are gone to No. 7. There are many 
 hiding-places throughout these mountains, such as you saw last night, 
 where some hundreds of people are concealed, and they are all numbered. 
 The numbers are got off by heart, like A, B, C, by these gentlemen 
 in throuble and their followers. The principal leaders have each some 
 sign of their own to distinguish them. This twig, you see, has a forked 
 end to it, — that's Lynch's sign. There are other signals in there." 
 He pulled forth a straight stick, notched as the other ; a twig twisted 
 into a ring, and marked ; a bunch of five twigs, tied together with a 
 piece of grass. " Now all these show that certain men have been 
 hiding in the castle yondher, and have gone to each of these different 
 coverts. That twisted twig is O'Kelly, — the straight one Burke, — the 
 bunch is D'Arcy. — So I could tell where all o' them went after leaving 
 this, and so from place to place follow them." 
 
 " But suppose," inquired Ned, " that Lynch had landedon the other 
 side of the lake, how could he have made his signal ?" 
 
 " There is another signal rock at the other side." 
 
 " But how can you tell if they have left long ago or lately ?" 
 
 " By the freshness of the cut. You see the sticks are all cut at the 
 end. Now Lynch's is fresh, O'Kelly's is lying here some time, 
 Burke's is an owld date, — quite dry, you see." He handed them to 
 Ned as he spoke, he himself telling by touch and smell what Ned's 
 eyes convinced him to be true. 
 
 " Cleverly contrived," he said. 
 
 '' And so simple," said the piper. " A notch on a stick is as 
 readable to a blind man as to them who see : and up and down through 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 347 
 
 these mountains there are signal rocks appointed to each hiding-place, 
 for putting the sticks in. We call them our post-offices." 
 
 " A good name, Phaidrig." 
 
 *' But stop,— we mustn't rob the mail," said the piper; and he 
 restored all the sticks to the crevice in the rock after which they 
 left the place, and pushed on for number seven. 
 
 " You'll see one of the quarest divils you ever see," said Phaidrig, 
 " to-night. He's a sturdy owld chap, that always lives in the saycret 
 place the masther is gone to, and there's but one tune in the world he 
 cares for, and my heart is broke playing it to him whenever he lays 
 howld o' me." 
 
 " It is to be hoped the tune is a pretty one." 
 
 " Not it, in throth, — its only that quare thing, JRee Raw. I sup- 
 pose you know it ?" 
 
 " I do. It is a sort of half drony, half lilting, monotonous thing," 
 and Ned commenced whistling. 
 
 " That's it," said Phaidrig. *• That's a nice thing to play for hours 
 together." 
 
 " For hours !" echoed Ned. 
 
 " Ay, faith. He would not let me eat, drink, nor sleep, if he 
 could help it, but keep me evermore blowing away at that 
 Ree Raw" 
 
 They had been walking for about three hours, when they reached 
 some very broken ground, where the blind man's footing seemed more 
 insecure than usual. " I wish I could get on faster, for your sake, 
 Masther Ned. I know you are burning with impatience to see the 
 darlin' lady; and no wondher, and right glad she'll be to see you, and 
 here you are hampered with the tardiness of a blind man." He had 
 hardly uttered the words when he made a false step, tripped, and fell 
 down an abrupt bank. Ned ran to his assistance, and attempted 
 to lift him, but a sharp cry from Phaidrig made him desist. 
 
 " Don't stir me — don't stir me, Masther Ned, — my leg is broke." 
 
 " Oh, my dear Phaidrig, I hope not," said Ned, kneeling down 
 beside him, and supporting him in his arms, while Turlougli ran up, 
 as if he understood something untoward had happened, and began to 
 whine. 
 
 " This is a cross thing to happen at this present," said the piper. 
 
 " At any time it is dreadful, Phaidrig. Are you in much pain ?" 
 
 " Yes ; when you stirred me I got a sharp twinge. Straighten the 
 leg for me, Masther Ned, and lay me quiet, with my back to the bank 
 — that's it : now I have a plan to enable you to make your road good 
 to Miss Nelly." 
 
 " I will not leave you, Phaidrig." 
 
 " Sure you must leave me, if it was for nothing but to get me 
 
348 i; s. d, 
 
 help. See now, — I hope Turlough will undherstand me, and if he 
 does, all will be right; — ^just untie the pipes, and take them out and 
 yoke them to me, and I'll thiy a plan. — Turlough! Turlough! — here 
 boy !" He began to talk to the dog in his own peculiar style, telling 
 him he should " go and find him ;" then he would point to Ned, 
 and tell the dog to " take him to him." After this he began to 
 play Mee Raw at a most tremendous rate, and cheer on the dog with 
 the cry of " To him, boy — fetch him there !" 
 
 The sagacious creature became much excited, looked up eagerly to 
 his master, as if endeavouring to catch his meaning, and Ned regarded 
 with admiration the heroic disregard to his own suffering the blind 
 man displayed, while struck with surprise at his readiness of inven- 
 tion to supply, through the intelligence of his dog, the guidance his 
 mishap interrupted. 
 
 His opinion of the dog's intelligence was not overrated ; the animal 
 uttered a few low short barks, as if to express understanding of his 
 meaning, and, first fixing his eyes on Ned, ran forward some twenty 
 yards, and looked back, as if waiting for him. 
 
 " He's off," said Phaidrig— 
 
 The dog barked — 
 
 " He's calling you," said the piper : *' I know every bark in him ; 
 he undherstands my meaning, and will lade you clever and clanc to 
 the place." 
 
 " I am loth to leave you, Phaidrig." 
 
 " Sure you must lave me to get help for mc, if for nothing else ; 
 and, as it happens, tlie owld fellow I towld you of where you are going 
 is the best bone-setter* in the counthry ; and some o' the boys in tlie 
 hiding-place will come over and bring a door with them to carry me. 
 There, now, be off — put your tendher-heartedness in your pocket, 
 and start, for the sooner you go the sooner I will have help, — there, 
 2\irlovgh is barking again ; — go, and God speed you." 
 
 " My dear Phaidrig, for your sake I will urge my utmost speed. 
 You are satisfied the dog understands ?" 
 
 " Depend your life on Turlough, I tell you — good bye 1" 
 
 " Farewell !" said Ned, running after the dog, which dashed on in 
 advance, while the wild lilt of llee Raw from Phaidrig's pipes pur- 
 sued them as long as they were Avithin hearing. 
 
 The ground which it would have taken the sightless Phaidrig two 
 hours to traverse, from the difhculty of progress its roughness pre- 
 sented, was crossed by the hawk-eyed and swift-footed Ned in half 
 the time. The dog led the way to a rocky rift in the side of a steep 
 mountain, where some goats were feeding. At the upper end of this 
 dell a hut was reared against the face of the cliff, which formed, in 
 * The name for a rural mender of fractured limbs among the peasantry. 
 
A%N.,;;:-\:. 
 
 S .^o^^?;^^~^ 
 
 c y%-<7i;^^i^^ ^z.^f'i^ ay/v-/^ o/^ cy^^A^ifi^/.i 
 
 y y 
 
 Cha,Tt>crs. Taiernostcr iiK.i^n. 1843. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 340 
 
 fact, its back wall ; its roof was of fern and heather, and its chimney 
 of sods, held together by rude wattles woven through them. I^Iore 
 care seemed to be bestowed on this portion of the structure than 
 is generally the case in such a hovel, where a hole in the roof mostly 
 answers the purpose of chimney and window — letting the light in and 
 smoke out ; but in this case not only the outward but inward con- 
 trivance of the fire-place seemed to have been attended to, for a wide- 
 mouthed flue stood out from the rock inside the hut, and carried up 
 the blue smoke merrily, which, curling along the side of the cliff as it 
 escaped, was scarcely perceptible at a distance, from the similarity of 
 its colour to the heights which towered above. 
 
 So elaborate a description of a chimney would be unnecessary but 
 that it was the most important part of this hut, — in fact, the hut was 
 for no other purpose than a screen to an opening in the cliff, which 
 led to an extensive cave, to which this wide flue formed the entrance, 
 while it also concealed it ; and the chimney-top outside served to 
 carry off smoke from the principal fire within the cave, as well as from 
 the bit of fuel burnt for deception without. The thing Avas altogether 
 so well masked that an ordinary observer would never have suspected 
 the trick. 
 
 The door was shut when the dog approached the hut ; he scraped 
 for admittance without being attended to, and on Ned's arrival his 
 tapping was equally disregarded, therefore he raised the latch and 
 made his entrance. 2\rlou()h rushed in after him; and Ned's 
 amazement may be guessed when he saw him run up the chimney. 
 Much as his doings had previously surprised him, this last touch ap- 
 peared the strangest of all; and after a short pause, which the oddity 
 of the feat produced, Ned looked up the chimney after his friend, but he 
 was gone. He then went outside, expecting to see him on the roof— but 
 he was not there either. He looked up and down, and whistled for him, 
 and at length called lustily on his name — but in vain. Turlough was 
 nowhere to be seen. While thinking this looked very like witchcraft, 
 a man issued from the house, which Ned had found empty, and he 
 became still more puzzled. Where the deuce could lie have come 
 from ? While he was thinhing this, the mysterious person asked him 
 the same question in so many words, giving a sort of grunt at the end 
 of the sentence, which was his habit ; and Ned replied, he had come 
 from Phaidrig-??a-p/&. 
 
 " And why did not Phaidi'ig-?irt-^;/5 come himself? — hegli !" 
 
 " Because his leg is broken." 
 
 " Humph!— What broke it?" 
 
 " Accident." 
 ^ " I didn't think it was intinshin ! — hegh! An' is it intinshin or 
 ax'dent brings you?— humph!" 
 
350 £ s. d. 
 
 " Intention," said Ned, who, amused with the fellow's gruff pecu- 
 liarity, gave answers as short as the questions. 
 
 " There's bad and good intinshins — hegh !" 
 
 " Well — mine are good," said Ned ; " and with such intentions 
 I come to see Captain Lynch." 
 
 " Faix, then, you won't see him here — humph!" 
 
 " I must!" returned Ned, anxiously. " I am his trusty friend!" 
 
 " I dunna sitch a person." 
 
 "Yes, you do — he came here last night. You need not fear 
 rae!" 
 
 " Fear you?" returned he, with a surly look, that scanned Ned from 
 top to toe, before he gave his grunt. 
 
 " I mean, you may trust me. I wish Phaidrig was here to vouch 
 for me, and to play you Ree Raw'' 
 
 The fellow gave a very interrogatory growl, and a searching look 
 at the words. 
 
 " You see I know something about you. Let me see the captain." 
 
 " I don't know him, I tell you — hegh ! " 
 
 While he was in the act of denial. Lynch emerged from the hut, 
 and hurried up to Ned, holding forth his hand. A hearty grasp, and 
 a few words of warm welcome followed. 
 
 " Miss Lynch?" said Ned, inquiringly. 
 
 " Is well, and here. You shall see her in a moment. Wiere's 
 Phaidrig?" 
 
 Ned briefly related the accident; and Lynch, turning to the 
 gruff old Cerberus, said no time should be lost in liurrying to his 
 assistance. 
 
 The fellow thrust his fingers into his mouth, and gave a piercing 
 whistle, and, in a few seconds after, several men came from the hut. 
 
 " Come with me," said Lynch, addressing Ned. " You will make 
 all right about Phaidrig," he added — turning to the old warder. 
 
 A grunt of assent followed. 
 
 " Let me see Miss Lynch for a few minutes," said Ned, " and I will 
 return with them, and show the way." 
 
 " You needn't mind," replied the growler ; " them that brought 
 you here will lead us back— go in wid you — I towld you I didn't know 
 the captain— hegh!" 
 
 " Come," said Lynch, leading Ned into the hut, and showing him 
 the mode of ascent to the cave within the chimney — a strange road to 
 a love-meeting— though, after all, it is most appropriate — Cupid is a 
 climbing boy. 
 
 Such a meeting between friends, after so long an absence and inter- 
 vening anxiety, as that which followed between Ellen, her father, and 
 Nod, can better be imagined than described. Hours passed by 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 351 
 
 unheeded, in their varied and affectionate communion ; there was so 
 much to tell and so much to inquire, of the past so full of painful 
 interest, and the present so fraught with danger. 
 
 Ned ventured, however, to prophesy hopefully of the future, holding 
 out, in their flight to Spain, a prospect of security and repose. Lynch 
 here, with an enthusiasm in the Stuart cause which all his suffering 
 could not tame, declared he would remain in Ireland as long as there 
 was a chance of a blow being struck in their favour. " But you," he 
 said, addressing Ned, — " you must not attach yourself to my desperate 
 fortunes — for desperate they are, though I am determined to dare 
 them." 
 
 " I will never desert you," exclaimed Ned, fervently. 
 
 A look, beaming with affection, from Ellen's sweet eyes — looking 
 sweeter for the sadness which partly shaded their lustre — was Ned's 
 reward for this expression of hearty devotion to her father. He, 
 grasping the young man's hand, said, — 
 
 " I know you are attached to me — and I know the cause. You 
 have often served my daughter and myself at need and — " 
 
 He was suddenly interrupted by a loud tapping at the outside 
 door, and he rose and left the cave. In a few minutes he returned, 
 supporting a wounded man ; on beholding whom, Ellen rushed forward, 
 exclaiming, " Father Flaherty ! — Oh — dear father — you bleed ! " 
 
 " I do, my child — but 'tis only a flesh-wound. Lynch, prepare for 
 defence ; — they have hunted me close, and are not far off." 
 
 " Are there many ? " 
 
 " More than I could wish. Where are the rest of our companions ? " 
 
 " They are absent." 
 
 A look of agony passed across the priest's features as he exclaimed, 
 ** Then God have mercy on us ! " 
 
 " Are you still able to fight ? " 
 
 *' Yes." 
 
 " Here is one who will give us brave help," said Lynch, pointing 
 to Ned. 
 
 " "What, you here ! " said the father ; " I wish we had happier times 
 for our meeting, Ned ; but I am glad to see you — make haste — let 
 us stand by the door and defend it." 
 
 " Ellen, go into your hiding-place in case of the worst," said 
 Lynch, as he took from her hands several weapons she had brought 
 from a recess in the cave, and distributed them to Ned and the priest. 
 
 Thus armed, they descended from the cave to the hut, and piling 
 several logs against the door, rendering it capable of resistance, they 
 stood in wait for the approach of the priest-hunters, in case they had 
 tracked him to the retreat. They soon heard the tramp of horsemen, 
 and looking out through the loops with which the place was provided, 
 
352 £ 
 
 S, 
 
 awaited their coming with deadly determination to sell their lives 
 dearly. 
 
 " Hold your fire till they are closer," said Lynch, " we can't throw 
 away a shot — 'tis well our powder and ball are in cartridges ; we can 
 load in the dark." 
 
 The hunters were now so close as to be visible, and surrounded the 
 hut, swearing violent oaths, and calling for the priest with a profanity 
 of expression unfit to be recorded. The answer was a well-directed fire 
 from the hut, which caused other yells than those of triumph from the 
 assailants. 
 
 " Force the door ! " was the cry from without. Some men 
 descended from their saddles at the command, while others came 
 down at the leaden invitation sent out to them from the hut. A rush 
 was made at the door — the logs inside resisted those without, while 
 Lynch, as they pressed close to the entrance, plunged the bayonet 
 with which his gun was armed through a chink in the door, and a 
 shriek of agony succeeded, with a heavy fall. 
 
 " He has it ! " exclaimed the captain, with savage exultation. 
 
 A fresh shout was raised outside. "Burn the vermin in their 
 nest," was the cry. 
 
 It was scarcely uttered, when several flambeaux, with which such 
 hunting parties were provided, were lighted, and thrown on the 
 thatch of the hut, after which, the assailants rode swiftly out of reach 
 of gunshot, to which the light exposed them with more certainty — 
 • a result not thrown away on those inside, who sent telling shots after 
 the incendiaries. When quite out of range, the merciless party 
 turned round to enjoy the sight of the blazing hut, which they bar- 
 barously imagined was the fiery tomb of their victims ; little dreaming 
 of the safe retreat the cave afforded those whom they would have 
 sacrificed to the flames. Their shouts rose high in proportion to the 
 height of the blaze, as in fiery tongue-like form it licked the grey clilF 
 wliicli stood out in ghastly relief against the dark sky. 
 
 The glare soon passed — and as the fire was nearly out, the hunter 
 rode off"; but they had not paid the full reckoning of their adventure. 
 The party who had gone for Phaidrig, was a strong one and well armed, 
 and was entering the dingle as the first flash of the blazing hut told 
 them what had taken place. Laying the piper in a place of security, 
 they distributed themselves at the mouth of the pass, in the most 
 advantageous order, awaiting the exit of tlieir enemies, who, as they 
 were retiring in high glee after their supposed triumph, received a 
 murderous fire along their whole line. Taken thus by surprise, tliey 
 were panic stricken, — they fancied they were entrapped into an 
 ambush, and ^^sauvequl pent" was the cry, while dropping shots after 
 the fugitives, lent additional vigour to their spurs. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 353 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 When Phaidrig heard the hut was fired, and the glen in possession of 
 enemies, he forgot all bodily pain in the agony of mind he endured lest 
 the [qw left behind in the hiding-place had fallen victims to the attack ; 
 and when, after the flight of the priest-hunters, his friends came to 
 carry him to the cave, he besought some of them to run forward and 
 ascertain the truth. 
 
 " Shout, if they're safe," said he, " for ray heart is on the rack till 
 I know — run, boys, run, if you love me ! " 
 
 Several complied with his request, and dashed onward, while 
 Phaidrig was slowly borne along by the rest. The nature of their 
 burden, the darkness, and roughness of the ground, retarded their pro- 
 gress, so that they had not half reached the end of the glen before their 
 companions in front had ascertained the safety of the inmates of the 
 cave, and gave the signal-shout. It was returned by those who were 
 advancing, and by none more vigorously than the disabled piper, who 
 mingled thanks to Heaven with his transport. 
 
 As it was impossible to remove Phaidrig into the cave without 
 running the risk of disturbing the setting of his leg, which had been 
 effected by the old growler before he was shifted from the spot where 
 the accident occurred ; a shelter was made near the warm embers of 
 the burnt hut, where, under care of one of the brotherhood, he 
 remained while the rest entered the cave, and were soon engaged in 
 active council as to the course most fitting to pursue, under existing 
 circumstances. It was to be looked forward to that the discomfited 
 hunters would return in greater strength to recover their dead, whom 
 they were forced to abandon ; in which case the present post would be 
 untenable, and the sooner it was deserted the better. Some advocated 
 an immediate removal to another of their haunts, but the majority 
 seemed to consider morning would be sufficiently early for their 
 flitting. While such matters were discussed within the cave, Ned 
 and Ellen visited the piper, who found comfort in the gentle pitying 
 voice of his " darling Miss Nelly;" and when she had retired for the 
 night to an innermost nook of the retreat, which formed a perfectly 
 separate apartment, Ned insisted on remaining without to keep com^ 
 
354 X 6'. €f. 
 
 pany with his friend Phaidrig, whose requests to the contrary were in 
 vain ; and thus passed the night. 
 
 At the earliest peep of dawn the inmates of the cave were in motion. 
 Packing up the few conveniences the retreat could boast of, they pre- 
 pared for a march ; but before they started, endeavoured, by rolling 
 gome large stones, and placing a quantity of heather, naturally dis- 
 posed, in front of the entrance to the cavern, to conceal from their 
 enemies, who might return to the spot, the existence of so safe a 
 hiding-place, to which, after the lapse of some time, they might again 
 resort with security. To be certain of this asylum remaining undis- 
 covered, it was agreed that one scout should remain behind and watch 
 from an overhanging eminence the proceedings of the party which 
 should return for their dead. Lots were cast for the fulfilment of this 
 duty ; he on whom it fell took it merrily, and having obtained three 
 days* rations for his subsistence, and an extra supply of ball-cartridge, 
 he bade his friends good-bye, and mounted to his eyrie, while they 
 commenced their descent. The sentinel of the cliff tracked his depart- 
 ing companions with his eyes as long as they remained in sight, and 
 when left in sole possession of the mountain solitude, he occupied 
 himself in selecting the best and safest point for the fulfilment of his 
 duty, and then engaged in making it as comfortable as mountain- 
 bivouac might be, and, when completed, he threw himself down within 
 his lair, close and watchful as a hare in her form. 
 
 Meanwhile his companions were pursuing their route to another of 
 their hill hiding-places, the burden of bearing Phaidrig being changed 
 every half-hour among the party, while the wounded priest leaned on 
 Lynch, Ned having the more precious charge of Ellen. It was the 
 most delightful day they had known for a long and weary time ; even 
 thus surrounded with difficulties, flying from persecution, the presence 
 of the lovers to each other had a charm superior to external dangers. 
 What dark or dismal thought could be entertained by him who now 
 looked into the gladdened eyes of the lovely girl he supported over 
 crag and torrent ; more lovely, he thought, even in her simple peasant 
 guise, than in the fashionable frippery of courts, in which he had 
 adored her ; besides, he now looked upon her more securely as his 
 own — there was that in Lynch's manner which implied consent, and 
 for some hours of their journey Ned had uninterrupted care of Ellen. 
 At length a halt M^as called. A small defile was approached, in which, 
 fehould they be attacked, the party must have engaged to disad- 
 vantage, therefore scouts were thrown out to the right and left, who, 
 ascending the heights on either side, reconnoitred the pass, and ascer- 
 tained its safety before the main body ventured on passing. This 
 having been achieved Ned and Ellen Avere again permitted to lag in 
 the rear, and enjoy distinct companionship ; and not the least of their 
 
TREASURE TROVE. S55 
 
 pleasure was the communion of admiration produced by the grandeur 
 of the scenery through which they passed. The lonely labyrinths of 
 the wilds they traversed presented eternal changes 'of the most 
 picturesque form; that noble group of mountains, known as the 
 " Twelve Pins of Bunabola," whose lofty peaks are among the first 
 landmarks seen by the Atlantic navigators, rose right before them ; 
 and the intricate interlacing of their bold yet graceful lines, called forth 
 fresh admiration as each advance of the travellers presented them in 
 some novel combination. Lake after lake, too, they passed, tranquilly 
 slumbering in their mountain-cradles, but at length one burst upon 
 their view of surpassing beauty — its waters, reflecting the dark rich 
 tones of the hills above, gave more brilliant effect to an uninterrupted 
 belt of lilies that lay upon, or rather round its bosom, girdling it with 
 floral loveliness. Ellen and Edward paused ; they thought they had 
 never seen anything half so beautiful in all their lives, they gazed and 
 gazed upon it in silence for some minutes, and looked rather than spoke 
 their admiration. He stole his arm round her waist, and whispered, 
 " Here, darling one, here — could not we dwell for ever, and wish no 
 happiness beyond?" He seemed to feel by anticipation all that the 
 bard of his country, then unborn, so beautifully expresses of some 
 place 
 
 « enchanting 
 
 Where all is fioweiy, wild, and sweet, 
 
 And nought but love is wanting ; 
 We think how blest had been our lot, 
 
 If Heaven had but assign'd us. 
 To live and die in that sweet spot." 
 
 But no— they might not live, whatever chance there was of dying 
 there ; and Ned, as he held his beloved one to his heart, sighed to 
 think that in their native land there was no safety for them, and that 
 liberty and security were only to be found in exile. 
 
 A shout from the party in advance recalled them from their fond 
 reverie, and they hastened to follow their friends ; but as they were 
 losing sight of the lily-girdled lake, 
 
 " They cast a longing, lingering look behind." 
 
 Their course now tended upwards towards the innermost recesses of 
 " the pins," within whose labyrinths lay the retreat to which their 
 Steps were directed, and the scene of loveliness they had just quitted 
 rendered the savage nature of the region they began to ascend more 
 startling. Rugged and precipitous were the paths, often intersected 
 by deep gullies, through which the mountain-torrents foamed and 
 roared, overhung by toppling cliffs whose projecting crags seemed 
 almost poised in air — so delicately balanced, that fancy mi^ht suggest 
 
 A A 2 
 
35G £ s, cL 
 
 the touch ol a child sufficient to cast them from their misty heights. 
 Sometimes the echoes were challenged by the "bark" of the eagle, 
 himself so unused to visitors in this, his own domain, that the presence 
 of man startled him not, insomuch that the party in many cases 
 approached within twenty yards of the royal bird ere he quitted his 
 perch upon the rock, and even then he spread his ample wing so 
 leisurely as to give assurance his flight was not one of fear, but rather 
 of a haughty retirement from unwelcome intrusion. What an idea of 
 solitude was conveyed by this absence of fear on the part of a wild 
 creature : had it known more of man it would have felt more alarm 
 at his approach! 
 
 How finely this fact is touched by Cowper, in the expressions he 
 attributes to Selkirk on the desert isle : — 
 
 *' The beasts that roam over the plain, 
 My form with indifference see ; 
 They are so unacquainted with man, 
 Their tameness is shocking to me." 
 
 But in the case of our fugitives, the tameness was not shocking : 
 it was the evidence of a remoteness from the haunts of man most 
 welcome. The ascent now became more difficult as they advanced, 
 painfully so, indeed, to those carrying poor Phaidrig, who, in his dis- 
 abled state, where rest was so necessary, had borne the rough journey, 
 not only with patience, but even mirthfulness, often interchanging a 
 joke with his friends on the way. Now the bearers were obliged to 
 be often changed, and great care and ingenuity employed to get him 
 up some of the sharp acclivities, where, often the strength and activity 
 of an able man were required to achieve his own passage. In all those 
 " delicate cases," the gruff bone-setter was intendant of the process, 
 and growled his instructions to the operatives under him how to pro- 
 ceed, swearing occasionally, if they were awkward or precipitate, that 
 they would " spoil his work " if they did not take care. By dint of 
 toil and skill, however, Phaidrig was safely brought to the topmost 
 step of this mountain ladder, which the rest of the party had already 
 achieved, one of their number having been forwarded to give the re- 
 quisite signals to those in possession of the retreat, that friends were 
 coming. Those friends were heartily welcomed, and one difficulty 
 alone presented itself — it was, that there was scarcely accommodation 
 for so many, even if they were all men; but the case was rendered 
 still more awkward by a lady being' of the party. This was soon 
 obviated, however. All set to work vigorously to prepare a tempo* 
 rary shelter for her. A heap of stones was collected close beside the 
 cave — of these, rude walls were rapidly formed, roofed over with the 
 same. material, the crevices were stopped with grass, mosses, and 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 357 
 
 heather, and the interior furnished from the cave with goat and sheep 
 skins, which, with the addition of a couple of military cloaks, formed 
 no bad sleeping place. A rougher shelter, by way of guard-house, was 
 raised beside it, to be occupied by Lynch and Ned; and these prelimi- 
 nary preparations for the night being made, the party entered the 
 principal retreat, which in its general features resembled those already 
 described, and where the same rude fare and careless conviviality were 
 to be found. The splints and bandages on Phaidrig's leg being looked 
 to by the bone-setter, who pronounced all safe, and Father Flaherty's 
 wound having a fresh dressing, the work of the day was over, and the 
 evening was given up to such enjoyment as the circumstances of the 
 time and place could afford. 
 
CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 The earliest act of the succeeding morning was the united devotion 
 of the mountain refugees, as they knelt at the sacrifice of the mass, 
 performed by the wounded priest. To many of those present, the re- 
 ligious exercise was the more welcome, as it was long since they had 
 enjoyed it — more welcome, because in the minister who officiated they 
 beheld a human being elevated by spiritual influence above the first 
 law of his mortal nature, which prompts to self-preservation, and who, 
 in the commission of this act, rendered his life forfeit to the cruel 
 customs of the times — more dear, because as they knelt in the faith of 
 their fathers, their tenderest sympathies and affections were engaged; 
 but, dearest of all, from that principle of resistance to injustice so 
 deeply rooted in the human heart, which exhibits increase of fortitude 
 in proportion to the violence of aggression ; that principle which has 
 made patriots and martyrs. Without a Gesler we should not have 
 had a Tell, and piety has ever been increased by persecution. It 
 matters not in what cause, or in what faith, this undying principle of 
 human nature is exercised : as it was, so it is, and ever will be. The 
 unmolested English, who for centuries have walked quietly to church, 
 with their prayer-books and bibles under their arms, and who have 
 heard smooth sermons from velvet-cushioned pulpits, cannot know 
 that desperate earnestness of faith which possessed the Covenanter of 
 Scotland and the Catholic of Ireland, who worshipped in mountain 
 dells and secret caves, whose prayers might have for their response a 
 volley of musketry, instead of the peaceful " Amen ;" whose religion 
 indeed, might make them think of eternity, for in its exercise they 
 stared death in the face. 
 
 Ned, it may be remembered, was first impressed with a love of his 
 religion at Bruges, were he saw it in its pomp ; but now, his heart 
 expanding to higher emotions with his increasing age, stirred to deeper 
 sympathies than the Galway hoy could entertain, and kneehng beside 
 the woman he adored in the proscribed faith of his nation, he felt the 
 holiest aspirations he had ever experienced. What were the lofty 
 columns of the gorgeous cathedral compared to the towering cliffs, 
 whose pinnacles hung above them ! — what the fretted roof to God's 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 359 
 
 own heaven ! — what splendour of sacerdotal robes so impressive as 
 the blood-stained bandage of that wounded priest ! 
 
 The morning sacrifice over, the morning meal succeeded, after 
 which a dispersion of the party took place among the hills ; some to 
 the waters, towards their base, in search of fish ; others amidst their 
 coverts, to find game ; some to collect fuel. Lynch, Ellen, and Ned, 
 with the wounded priest and disabled piper, were left in possession of 
 the retreat. A portion of the day was spent in making the accom- 
 modation so hastily undertaken the evening before, more comfortable, 
 and then a long consultation ensued between the three gentlemen as 
 to future movements. In the course of this discussion. Lynch declared 
 himself fully as a consenting party to the union of Edward with his 
 daughter, and even expressed a desire she could be prevailed upon to 
 quit her present life of danger, and, under the protection of a husband, 
 retire to Spain. Ned strove to influence the father to accompany 
 them, urging, as an inducement, the unlikelihood of Ellen's consenting 
 to leave him; but he was immoveable on this point, until all hope of a 
 movement in the Pretender's cause should cease. 
 
 " The reverend father here," he said, " has brought over en- 
 couraging news ; we may confidently look for aid from France, where 
 the Prince has arrived." 
 
 " He has escaped then from Scotland ? " said Ned. 
 
 " Yes," said the fadre, " all Paris was alive about him — nothing 
 was talked of but his romantic adventures and wonderful escape; and 
 the first night he went to the opera, the whole house rang with 
 admiring welcome." 
 
 A shade crossed Lynch's brow, as he repeated in a subdued tone of 
 vexation, " The opera ! — the opera ! — Oh, Charles Edward, while you 
 are enjoying sweet strains at the opera, the wailing of widows and 
 orphans in your cause rings throughout these isles ! " 
 
 " A good many thought the same thing in Paris, I can tell you," 
 said the father, " though the senseless mob shouted." 
 
 " With all my devotion to him and his house, I cannot shut 
 my eyes to such frivolity," said Lynch. — " The opera ! — good 
 Heaven ! — ^to plunge into the luxurious dissipation of Paris, while 
 the heads of brave men are brought daily to the block in England — 
 'tis monstrous!" 
 
 " And yet you will stay here, sir, for his cause." said Ned. 
 
 " For the cause," returned Lynch impressively — " It is not alone 
 for him we fight — 'tis for our homes and faith as well." 
 
 " As for the homes of Ireland," said Father Flaherty, sadly, " few of 
 them are safe — many of them have passed to the hands of the stranger; 
 and of all places on the earth, Ireland is the saddest for a true 
 Irishman." 
 
360 £ S, d, 
 
 " But our faith stands fast!" returned tlie enthusiast, *'they cannot 
 rob us of that." 
 
 "As for the faith, my dear Captain," answered the priest, "you 
 could enjoy that unmolested in Spain ; and I am inclined to be of the 
 same opinion with my friend Ned, that you might as well make a 
 start of it along with the young people, and be off, particularly as you 
 are so marked a man." 
 
 " If the promised aid from France should not arrive this time," 
 said Lynch, " why then, perhaps " 
 
 " You will fly with us," said Ned, joyously. 
 
 " Let us wait till the hour arrives," said Lynch, " 'twill be time 
 enough to speak then — for the present we will say no more : let us 
 seek Ellen." 
 
 He rose and entered the cave, where his daughter was sitting beside 
 the couch of Phaidrig, whiling away the tedium of his confinement by 
 her companionship. The piper's gaiety was unimpaired, he was as 
 mirthful as ever, and Ellen was laughing at one of his little pleasantries 
 as her father entered. 
 
 "Instead of Phaidrig's being down-hearted over his misfortune, 
 father, he has been making me laugh," said she. 
 
 " What's the fun, Phaidrig ?" inquired Lynch. 
 
 " Oh, I was only tellin' Miss Nelly, your honour, that instead of 
 being worse, I'd be the betther o' my accident." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Because, I'll soon be able to do with my leg what I can't do with 
 my hands." 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 " Ulick, the bone-setter, says my leg will begin to knit in a few 
 days." 
 
 Lynch smiled at the oddity of the conceit, and said however much 
 his leg might knit, he feared it would never make him a pair of 
 stockings. 
 
 " Oh, that would be too much to expect," replied Phaidrig, " one leg 
 to work for the other ; 'twould be enough if it worked for itself, and 
 it's then I'd have a pet leg, like the mayor of Londonderry." 
 
 " I never heard of him," said Ellen : " What an odd conceit — a pet 
 leg. I have heard of a pet lamb, or a pet kid — but a pet leg ! — " 
 
 " What is that but a pet calf?" said Phaidrig. " Well, this fellow 
 was a little mad, and used to dress up his pet calf in all sorts of finery, 
 w^hile his other poor shin of beef had all sorts of ill usage. One was 
 decked out in silk, while ragged worsted was good enough for the 
 other. One had a fine footstool to rest on, while the other was knocked 
 about against chairs and tables ; and the pet leg he called his pro- 
 testant leg, while the other he called his papist leg ; and sure, if he 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 361 
 
 was walkin' the road, he picked out the clane places for his protestant 
 leg, and popped the poor papist leg into the dirtiest puddles he 
 could see." 
 
 " That's one of your own queer inventions, Phaidrig," said Ellen, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Thruth every word of it. Miss, — but wait till you hear the end of 
 it. He wanted to put his poor papist leg into such a deep dirty ditch 
 one day, that he fell down and broke it. Well, he was taken home, 
 and the docthor was sent for, and the leg set and bandaged up, and he 
 was put to bed ; but, my dear, what does he do in the night, when the 
 nurse is asleep, but take the bandages off his papist leg, which he 
 thought had no right to so much attention, and put them on his 
 protestant leg. The next morning, when the docthor came, he asked 
 to see the leg, and out the pet leg was popped, with the bandages on it ; 
 and sure the docthor forgot which leg it was was broke ; and feeling 
 the leg straight and right, said that would do, and went away ; but, my 
 jewel, a mortification set in in the poor ill-used limb before the mad 
 thrick of the high churchman was discovered, and then there was 
 nothing for it but to cut it off — and the poor fool sunk undher the 
 operation ; so that the end of it was, he lost his catholic limb first, 
 and lost his life next, for overpetting the protestant leg." 
 
 Ellen's quiet smile at the sarcastic drift of Phaidrig's story was in 
 singular contrast to the knitted brow of her father, as he shook his 
 head and remarked, how much bitter truth was often to be found 
 under the guise of a fable. 
 
 Father Flaherty observed that the story would be more palatable in 
 Paris than in Dublin, whereupon Phaidrig declared that it would be 
 "butther to his bones" (whereby he meant great pleasure) "to tell 
 that same story to Primate Stone." 
 
 " And you would certainly be hanged for your pains," said Lynch, 
 ^' without the Archbishop understanding one word of your meaning. 
 They are blind now, in very drunkenness of intolerance ; but, despite 
 their persecution, the day will yet come when future prelates will be 
 able to read the moral of your grotesque fable. But, to leave fables 
 and come to facts, — what is the rendezvous you have appointed with 
 Mr. Fitzgerald's friend, this Mr. Finch, whom you have sent down 
 to the coast somewhere ; for I understand it will be time to start 
 to-morrow, according to agreement made at parting ? Can you 
 instruct a guide to lead our young friend ? " 
 
 " Aisy enough. It's a snug little place in the hills, not far from 
 the Killery harbour ; many of our friends here can find the way ready. 
 It will be only a pleasant day's walk." 
 
 " Then to-morrow you must start," said Lynch to Ned. " And now, 
 Ellen, come out and take a ramble with us in the hills ; I will show 
 
36a JC s, (L 
 
 Fitzgerald a splendid scene from a neighbouring point, commanding 
 a view of Glen Hohen and Lough In a. Besides, I think Phaidrig 
 has been talking rather too much ; the quieter he can keep the better, 
 for some days." 
 
 With these words the party sallied forth on their excursion, and, 
 after a delightful ramble, reached the point of view Lynch had pro- 
 mised, which more than realized all he had said. As they topped the 
 acclivity that opened to them the long-stretching Ina and its wooded 
 islands, some red deer, startled by their approach, bounded before 
 them down the heathery steep, giving life and additional beauty to the 
 scene. Resting in this beautiful spot, the party enjoyed a pleasant 
 conversation for awhile. Ellen delighted to see the sternness and 
 sadness of her father unbent and softened, as he emerged from his 
 habitual gravity to share in the interchange of livelier thoughts than 
 of late he had indulged in. After a while he arose, and seating himself 
 apart at some distance, took a small book from his pocket and began 
 to read intently. 
 
 " That is a breviary he is engaged upon," said Ellen, in an under 
 tone to Ned. " My father, ever strict in his religious duties, is now 
 more so than ever ; he says he knows not the hour his life may be 
 forfeited, and he tries not to be overtaken unprepared. It makes me 
 tremble to hear him talk sometimes so certainly of such terrible things 
 as may happen." 
 
 Ned here took occasion to urge his suit respecting her retiring with 
 him to Spain, as in accordance with her father's wishes; but she 
 silenced him at once with a resolute " Never." 
 
 " No, Edward — I will not desert him: I will join you in urgent 
 entreaty to induce him to fly the country with us — but without him 
 I will never go." 
 
 There was an earnestness in her manner which carried conviction 
 with it, that to shake her resolution would be impossible ; therefore 
 Ned tried it no longer, but they consulted on the most likely means of 
 inducing Lynch to abandon the Stuart cause for the present in Ireland; 
 and sweet moments were passed in inventing arguments in which their 
 own future hopes formed a principal part. 
 
 " Perhaps, dearest Ellen," said Ned, softly, and slily coaxing her 
 hand within his, — " perhaps, darling one, if we were married at once 
 it might induce him ? " 
 
 Ellen bent her eyes archly upon him, and with a significant shake 
 of the head, and a smile full of meaning, asked him how, in their present 
 circumstances, he could venture to make such a proposal to any woman 
 whom he thought possessed of three grains of sense. " But, perhaps, 
 you think all women are fools on this subject?" 
 
 Ned protested he entertained the highest opinion of the capacity of 
 female intellect in general, and of hers in particular. 
 
TREASURK TROVE. -".6^^ 
 
 " Could I think otherwise of you, my darling! — my angel! — 
 my " 
 
 Ned's raptures were cut short by the tiny hand being raised with a 
 forbidding action, and a whispered recommendation being given not to 
 talk nonsense, more particularly as her father was approaching them. 
 
 Lynch suggested it was time to go back to the retreat, where, on 
 their return, they found their companion who had been left behind to 
 watch their last asylum, already arrived ; and with the good news which 
 he was dealing round to his friends, that their enemies had not found 
 out the secret of the cave when they came to remove their dead. That 
 so safe a hiding-place remained undiscovered was welcome intelligence 
 indeed ; for not only would it have been the loss of a choice asylum, but 
 would have given a hint to their enemies of the nature of the places 
 they selected for their abodes, which might have led to further evil 
 consequences. The arrival of the sentinel amongst his companions, 
 after fulfilling his dangerous duties unscathed, was rejoiced at, and the 
 cave was rather the merrier for the event. 
 
364 £ S, cL 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 Next day Ned, after a gentle farewell from Ellen, was on his way to 
 the Killery harbour, under guidance of one of the brotherhood of 
 mountain-refugees ; and as evening was closing, after a delightful walk 
 through scenery of the same class already described, he reached the 
 point where he might expect to find Finch. The expectation was 
 realized: he found his friend enjoying an autumnal sunset which 
 shed its glory over the Atlantic, as, glowing under the golden light, it 
 was seen through the majestic frame of a mountain-pass, with all the 
 beauty of Claude, and more of grandeur. 
 
 Warm was the greeting of the friends ; and, ere they slept that 
 night, many an important move regarding their future proceedings 
 was planned, — and when Finch was of the council, a thing planned 
 was nearly as good as executed. But in this case, one of those 
 trivial circumstances which sometimes tend to mar the best laid 
 schemes, interfered with the working out of the present. It was 
 agreed that the sooner a remove from Ireland was made the better, 
 particularly as regarded Lynch ; and, as Finch had previously offered, 
 he again said the treasure he sought, if found, was heartily at Ned's 
 service, to get himself and his friends out of trouble. In search of the 
 point laid down in Finch's instructions, he and Ned started the day 
 following. The place, near which the treasure lay, was only a few 
 miles distant ; and a ramble along the shore of a beautiful bay towards 
 a rocky point which formed its southern extremity, placed them in 
 view of a small castle, — one of those early structures for defence, a 
 square sturdy-built tower, machicolated at its angles. As they drew 
 near, they perceived a great number of people actively engaged in the 
 neighbourhood in the formation of large heaps of some material 
 obtained from the sea. On a nearer approach it was perceptibly 
 sea-weed, which, on inquiry, they found was burnt in large quantities 
 at this season for the production of kelp. After the customary 
 exchanges of civility between the peasants and the strangers, Finch 
 and Ned commenced their observations to ascertain the true bearings 
 of the important spot which contained the treasure. This they were 
 not long in finding, for the peaks of the mountains in the background. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 365 
 
 and the markings of the shore, gave points easily recognisable. 
 Having ascertained these, the next point was to measure the distance 
 from a certain angle of the castle, and when this was done, (and it was 
 obliged to be done slily, for the peasants were numerous and close 
 beside them,) they found, to their great discomfiture, that a very large 
 heap of the kelp-weed lay directly on the spot. 
 
 Here was what huntsmen call " a check." In any case, to have an 
 occupation in progress which congregated the peasants about the 
 castle would have been awkward ; but here was the very spot they 
 wanted for the exercise of their own peculiar practice in possession of 
 kelp-burners, and, to make the matter worse, many more days were 
 yet to be employed in the collection of the weed, and afterwards a 
 period required for drying and burning. Had they been a fortnight 
 earlier, they would have found the same spot in utter loneliness ; but 
 as the weed was found in great abundance on the shore bordering on 
 the castle, a gathering of the neighbouring people always took place 
 at the fitting season to collect and prepare their kelp, and the old 
 castle made a sort of general head- quarters during the process. 
 
 While this state of things lasted, it was manifest that any attempt 
 to raise the treasure would have been dangerous, and there seemed 
 nothing for it but to wait until the kelp-burning was over, and in the 
 meantime Ned proposed to Finch to join the party in the hills. 
 
 " You know they are outlaws," said Ned, " and of course their 
 company is dangerous ; and as it seems some six weeks must pass 
 before you can revisit the castle with safety, perhaps you might as 
 well return to some neighbouring town, where you and I can meet 
 occasionally ; for, of course, my dear Finch, wherever a ' certain 
 person' is there will I continue; and nothing can induce her to leave 
 her father." 
 
 " And do you think," returned Finch, " that I would desire to be 
 in any better place than where a beautiful girl, inspired with the 
 noblest feelings, chooses to harbour in the face of all dangers ?" 
 
 " I know, my dear fellow," said Ned, " you are as dauntless of 
 danger, when necessary, as any human being, and under such circum- 
 stances it is I have seen you ; but when it is not necessary to expose 
 yourself " 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh !" interposed Finch. " A handful of danger, more or 
 less, in the course of a man's life is nothing ; besides, here I have 
 something new to see. I have witnessed adventure enough by sea 
 and shore ; but this mountain life, of which you have given such a 
 romantic description, will be new to me, if you think your friends will 
 not object to my sojourn among them." 
 
 " You know how you were welcomed the other day at the ' board of 
 green cloth !' " ; 
 
S66 £ 6'. d, 
 
 " True," said Finch, smiling at the recollection. " But there is 
 a diiFerence between a casual courtesy like that and a permanent 
 residence." 
 
 " As long as their own residence is tenable anywhere, I will 
 ensure you a hearty welcome, and perhaps something above the 
 ordinary temperature of Hibernian warmth, from the proof you give 
 of contempt of danger." 
 
 The next day proved how justly Ned had estimated the feelings of 
 his companions ; for nothing could exceed the warmth of Finch's 
 reception at the cave. Here for many days the novelty of their mode 
 of life, and the splendour of the scenery, were enough to amuse him, 
 after which, the intimacy which arose between him and Lynch held 
 his attention engaged. They found in each other a congenial spirit 
 of enterprise, — the invention to engender plans, resources to meet the 
 difficulties of execution, and hearts to dare every obstacle. Thus 
 it would happen, that they would sometimes ramble into the hills 
 together, while others of the party were engaged in the daily routine 
 of procuring supplies, as already described, and, ensconced in some 
 mountain dingle, or stretched on some hill side among the heather, 
 hours upon hours were passed in dreams of possible adventure, so that 
 at last it became a usual thing for Lynch and the guest to set out 
 in the morning, remain together all day, and not return till the 
 evening. 
 
 At the same time, another couple of persons were wont to pair off 
 for a ramble together through the hills; and Ned and Ellen, thus 
 engaged, were, in nursery-tale parlance, " as happy as tlie day was 
 long." Among many haunts, the most favourite was a small river, 
 which, having its origin in the hills, bounded wildly from crag to 
 crag, and made its precipitous road to the sea by a succession of 
 picturesque falls, one more beautiful than another. This stream was 
 remarkable for abounding in a species of mussel, frequently containing 
 pearls, which, though inferior in lustre to the oriental, were still of 
 great beauty, and in search of these Ned and Ellen passed much of 
 their time. He, as well as his " ladye love," had assumed the peasant 
 guise, (a practice rather common to the refugees,) as thus they might 
 appear with less chance of observation from evil eyes, when they ven- 
 tured from the security of their mountain retreats, and trusted them- 
 selves towards the plains. In these loose habiliments, Ned was more 
 free to wade and search in the shoals of the pearl river for the shelly 
 treasures which w^ere destined for a necklace for his loved one, who, 
 seated on some j utting rock, smiled on the labours of her lover, as she 
 received from his hand the produce of his search. How many happy 
 days were thus spent ; happy, in spite of all their doubts, difficulties, 
 and dangers ! 
 
^r-ma,/./y/-.'^^.^^^. 
 
 Ml o s tor Jtev,' , 1 U 4-a . 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 86T 
 
 By good luck, however, the retreat remained unsuspected by " the 
 authorities," and in the unmolested security of the hills the refugees 
 got on gaily. Phaidrig's leg, under the growling orders of Ulick, was 
 mending fast, so much so, that he could sit up a little, and give hig 
 friends a lilt on the pipes. Lynch found more repose than he had 
 done for months; and Ellen, freed from pressing anxiety on her 
 father's account, and rejoicing in her new-found companionship, 
 recovered all her good looks, and was never seen in more beauty. It 
 might be that the delicacy of tint which is esteemed in a courtly ball- 
 room (which rouge, perforce, is sometimes called to light up) was 
 somewhat invaded by the mountain air ; but that same bracing atmo- 
 sphere brought with it health ; and if the cheek bore a glow beyond 
 the standard of haut ton, the clear bright beaming of the eye sustained 
 it, and might have shamed the languid glance of a court belle; while 
 the elastic tread of the mountain heroine displayed in finer action her 
 symmetrical form, than could the dropping of the conventional curtsey 
 or the gliding of the stately minuet. To Ned she seemed more charming 
 than ever ; and in truth she was so ; for not only had the girlish 
 beauty, which first enslaved him, become ripened, but the eventfulness 
 of her life had called her mental energies into action, and thus a more 
 intellectual character was given to her countenance. How often had 
 lier lover gazed upon it in all its fitful changes, whether it beamed with 
 mirthfulness to the passing jest, or glowed with indignation at some 
 instance of wrong; or if the eye was raised in hopeful appeal to 
 Heaven, or glistened with the tear some tale of pity drew from the 
 deep fountain of sympathy which lay within her noble heart; or, 
 dearest of all, if it met his own enraptured gaze, and exchanged that 
 glance of mutual endearment, confidence, and devotion, which true 
 and earnest love alone can waken ! 
 
 When people happen to be in the aforesaid condition of our young 
 friends, it is proverbial how swiftly time passes, and Ned could 
 scarcely believe, when he was told that six weeks had elapsed since 
 his visit with Finch to the castle, and was called upon to join the 
 skipper in a second exploration of that spot. They set out forthwith 
 on their adventure, and found a scene of utter loneliness where before 
 so many busy people were congregated, and, free from all observation, 
 were able to carry on their operations in uninterrupted safety. Those 
 operations were perfectly successful. A considerable sum in doubloons 
 and pistoles was raised, and our adventurers, having provided them- 
 selves with haversacks on quitting the cave, were enabled to sling the 
 cases of treasure therein over their shoulders, and in three days from 
 the time of their departure they returned to their friends rejoicingly, 
 and were received with the applause due to prosperous enterprise. 
 An extra jollification was held that night in honour of the event, 
 
368 £ S. d, 
 
 and the following day a consultation of Lynch and his more immediate 
 friends took place, to consider the safest mode of getting out of Ire- 
 land ; for the Captain, at last, on the arrival of some disheartening in- 
 telligence from abroad, had consented to fly the kingdom. Finally, 
 Ned's plan of reaching Limerick by the Shannon was adopted, with 
 such additional stratagems as Finch and the Captain himself could 
 bring to strengthen it. 
 
 A fleet horse being indispensable for the transit of Lynch across 
 the closely beset county of Galway to the Shannon shore, a trusty 
 emissary from the hills was despatched to a friend in the lowlands, 
 naming a time and place where the steed should be in waiting. Now, 
 seeing that in those days it was against the laws for a Catholic in 
 Ireland to possess a horse above the value of five pounds, it was not 
 such an easy matter to procure what Lynch wanted ; but as Protest- 
 ant masters could not do without Catholic servants, the good ofiices of 
 an underling who kept the stud farm of a gentleman who bred his 
 own racers and hunters served the turn, and Darby Lynch (for that 
 was the care-taker's name) for so high and distinguished a member of 
 his tribe as the Captain, would have gone through fire and water for 
 him, and, of course, would make any horse under his command do 
 the same thing, though it should cost the same Darby his place the 
 next day. 
 
 This being arranged, the next point was to make a movement of 
 the principals towards Corrib, whose waters were to be recrossed to 
 Augh-na-doon, as the safest point to progress from ; and when the 
 hour of parting came, it was not without pain and many a heart- 
 tugging grasp of daring hands that Lynch could part from his out- 
 lawed friends, in whose wanderings, and perils, and privations he had 
 been for months a partaker. 
 
 As for Ellen, she wept bitterly, for she knew that some hearts were 
 left to ache in those mountain-wilds, pining for wife, or child, or true 
 love, from whom their desperate fortunes cut them off"; and in the re- 
 joicing at her own release and the prospect of happiness to herself, 
 the contrast of the fate of the less fortunate touched her gentle soul. 
 
 As Phaidrig was allowed to follow the fortunes of " the masther," 
 as he constantly called Lynch, a chosen few from the retreat set out 
 with the party to carry the piper over the mountain-passes ; for, though 
 he could manage with the assistance of a stick to get on pretty well 
 on level ground, too great an exertion of the restored limb might be 
 dangerous. 
 
 By dint of an early start and a long march, Caistla-na-Klrka, in 
 the upper Corrib, was reached the evening of the first day, and made 
 their resting-place. They continued on the rocky islet till the even- 
 ing of the second, when they re- embarked for the lower lake. The 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 360 
 
 narrows, through all that exquisite scenery which had so charmed 
 Finch on his first entrance to the hills, were passed during twilight ; 
 when the open lake was reached, where greater danger might be ap- 
 prehended, night had settled over the waters, and under its protecting 
 shadows a safe passage was effected to Augh-na-doon, where the 
 emissary who had been despatched from the hills was waiting, pro- 
 vided with refreshments and good news for the fugitives. Here, 
 after a hasty meal, a general scattering of the party took place. The 
 refugees of the mountains took their oars, and went back to their pro- 
 tecting hills. Finch, Ned, and Ellen took Phaidrig under their charge, 
 to commence at once their journey towards the appointed place of 
 embarkation on the Shannon, where, by preconcerted arrangements, 
 a boat was at their service, while Lynch was to retire to his old 
 hiding-place in the abbey for three days, by which time the " ad- 
 vanced-guard," as he called it, could reach the river, and have all in 
 readiness to receive him after his midnight gallop. Ellen fondly em- 
 braced her father again and again ere she parted from him, even then 
 loth to leave him for so short a time ; but he strove to soothe her 
 fears, exhorted her to dependence on Heaven's mercy, and, with mutual 
 blessings, at last they parted. 
 
 Lynch pursued his way alone to the vault, where the mountain 
 gilli/wsLS to rejoin him after he had guided the others to a neighbour- 
 ing friendly hut, where a common car and horse were ready for their 
 use, as it Was still in peasant -fashion they proposed to pursue their 
 journey, certain that such a mode afforded more security. Travelling 
 thus, they could stop at the humblest carrier's inn on the outskirts of 
 each town they had to pass, where, even if they were suspected, they 
 might rely on finding humble friends, willing to facilitate their move^ 
 ments ; while, had they gone as gentlefolk, the region of the first- 
 class hostelry might not have been quite so safe, where, if they had 
 even escaped suspicion and betrayal from its owners, they ran the 
 chance of meeting some straggling emissary of power. 
 
 Having reached the hut, the horse and car were put at once into 
 requisition, and the gilli/ having waited until he saw the party fairly 
 started, returned to Lynch, while the others pushed on that night as 
 far as Headfort.. 
 
37«3 £ s, d. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 The road was pursued in safety the following morning by oui* 
 travellers, and the third day placed them under the shelter of a fisher- 
 man's hut by Lough Ree. Earnest were Ellen's prayers for the 
 safety of her father that night, as she knelt in deep and prolonged 
 devotion ere she slept ; for that night was one of toil and peril to him. 
 He was even now on his dangerous transit across the country, and 
 the storm that was raging as she prayed, she trusted would prove but 
 an additional safeguard to him, as fewer wayfarers would be abroad. 
 She awoke often in the night, and ever as she woke the storm was 
 louder and her prayers more fervent. As it approached morning she 
 could sleep no longer, and arose and called the fisherman, that he 
 might be on the look-out upon the high road to guide the horseman 
 through the by-path which led to the hut. He lit a fire before he 
 departed, and Ellen during his absence piled up the turf sods upon it, 
 that a comforting blaze might meet the weather-beaten fugitive on 
 his arrival. 
 
 Finch, Ned, and Phaidrig, still slept, and Ellen sat companionless by 
 the fire, in that state of anxious thoughtfulness which ever possesses 
 the mind whim the hours are pregnant with adventure. Ever and 
 anon, amidst the heavy gusts of wind, she would start from her 
 reverie, and listen for the wished-for tramp of a horse. No, — it was 
 but fancy, — he comes not yet. Twice thus had she been deceived, 
 but the charmed third time deceived her not, — it was the foot stroke 
 of a steed ; she hurried to the door through whose chinks glimmered 
 the first glimpse of dawn. She threw it open, and stood abroad amid the 
 beating of the thick rain that came dashing heavily in her face in the 
 rude gusts of the blast ; but, oh ! more pleasant than the brightest 
 sunshine she ever saw was that dim and stormy dawn, for through its 
 mist she beheld her father speeding onward, — the last turn of the 
 rough path is passed — his panting horse is reined up — he springs 
 from the saddle and is locked in the close embrace of his beloved and 
 loving child. They neither could speak from excess of emotion, and 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 371 
 
 stood in the storm, heedless, perhaps unconscious, of its fury. 
 At length the sweet girl spoke, — " Come in, dear father ; you are 
 wayworn, and want rest." 
 
 " The horse, Nell, — the horse must be cared for;— as gallant a 
 beast as ever carried a soldier !" and he patted the panting steed on his 
 arched neck, that was white with foam notwithstanding the heavy 
 drenching of the rain. 
 
 " He must share the house with us, then," said Ellen, " for there is 
 not any other shelter." 
 
 " And well he deserves such Arab courtesy," said Lynch, leading 
 him at once into the hut. 
 
 The sleeping men were roused from their lairs, and the beds they 
 had reposed on were scattered into a larger " shake-down " for the 
 horse by Lynch's own hands, before he would think of any comfort for 
 himself. Then, amidst the gratulations of his friends, he took some 
 slight refreshment before the welcome blaze of the turf fire; and 
 having cast his drenched garments, and obtained some dry ones, he 
 threw himself on the rough couch of the fisherman, and was soon 
 sunk in the profoundest slumber. 
 
 I Lynch slept long, for the weather continued too boisterous to 
 attempt the lake, and his friends did not wake him until it moderated 
 towards evening, and was time to embark. An unnecessary moment 
 was not lost ; the boat was shoved from the shore, whence they glided 
 under a favouring wind, with a hearty " God speed you," from the 
 trusty fisherman. They passed Athlone in the night, a point of 
 danger, and then for many a mile there was perfect security before 
 them : the air becanae piercing cold upon the water ; and Ellen felt 
 it so bitterly, that, on reaching Clonmacnoise, they ran their boat 
 . ashore, and sought shelter in the little chapel of the lesser round 
 tower that stands on that long-sacred and still-venerated spot— the 
 second Christian foundation in Ireland. At dawn they were again on 
 the waters, and were favoured with a lovely day for the time of year, 
 and without let or hindrance of any sort they made good way down 
 the stream, and by night were not far from Bannagher. Here again 
 they stopped for the night, close under the bank, making a sort of 
 awning of their sail for the protection of Ellen, while the men kept 
 watch and watch about, anxiously awaiting the light which was neces- 
 sary for their next day's navigation, as the river became narrower, 
 more winding, and dividing into different channels ere opening again 
 into the ample space of Lough Derg. The welcome dawn arrived at 
 length, and the favourable nature of the weather rendered the 
 beauties of the surrounding scenery more vivid. The sun came 
 brightly out, and cheered the spirits of the voyagers. Another suc- 
 cessful day's sail, and much of their danger would be over ; tlie 
 
 BB 2 
 
372 £ s, d. 
 
 prospect of escape was now so near, it might almost be said they 
 were happy. 
 
 The lovely aspect of nature had something to do with this state of 
 feeling : the beauty of the river increased at every fresh turn in its 
 tortuous course ; sloping green banks lay on each side ; small tufted 
 islets, crowned with beautiful trees, occasionally rising from the centre 
 of the stream ; the trailing branches of the pendant trees rippling the 
 calm course of the waters with streaks of light, which sparkled over 
 the surface until they became gently lost in the widening waters, 
 which gradually spread as they opened into Lough Derg, whose hilly 
 boundaries were becoming visible over the crests of some wooded 
 heights on their left, beneath whose shelter rose the remains of an 
 ancient castle, whose walls had suffered from war as well as time — 
 indeed, less from the latter than the former, which, under the guidance 
 of the merciless Cromwell, left but few specimens of castellated 
 architecture unscathed in all Ireland. 
 
 Portumna Castle, the ancient hold of the Earls of Clanricarde, lay 
 on the opposite shore, and as the present earl was one active in au- 
 thority, and whose power might be feared, the boat was laid close to 
 the bank which bore the ruined towers, whence no danger might be 
 apprehended ; and a favouring breeze just then springing up, they 
 hoisted their sail, and hoped to win the wide waste of Derg's dark 
 waters unperceived, after which all apprehension might be set at rest. 
 They now laid by their oars, the wind giving them sufficient speed, 
 and they scudded merrily along, when their apprehensions were 
 aroused by observing a flag suddenly displayed from the top of the ruin 
 as they came abreast of it, and a shot fired, which seemed to indicate 
 a demand from that quarter that account should be rendered by the 
 voyagers ere they cleared that pass of the river. 
 
 " Keep never minding," said Ned ; " 'tis our only plan, and the boat 
 has good way upon her now. — We shall be soon out of harm's way." 
 
 " They have hoisted the flag again," said Finch, " as if they were 
 signalizing." 
 
 " Perhaps exchanging signals with Portumna Castle, on the oppo* 
 site shore." 
 
 Finch instinctively looked in the direction. 
 
 " You cannot see it," said Lynch ; " 'tis hidden by the woods, but 
 must be perfectly visible from yonder towers." 
 
 They now saw several armed men run down from the castle to a 
 small inlet that ran up towards it from the river, and disengaging a 
 boat from the bank, embark with the apparent intention of pursuit. 
 
 The moment this was perceived by the fugitives, they instantly 
 seized their oars, which they plied with vigour to gain additional 
 ^peed. Their pursuers were not long in following, and when they 
 
i 
 4 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 37 J 
 
 tjleared the inlet and gained the open water, they hoisted a sail as 
 well, so that there was no mistaking their desire to overtake the fore- 
 most boat, which seemed to gain, however, on the pursuers, and was 
 making a good lead into the lough, which stretched far and wide 
 away, dark and rough, and crested with spray under the influence of 
 the breeze, which increased every minute. In this the fugitives re- 
 joiced, for their boat was stiff, and standing well to her canvass, would 
 be sure to outstrip the lighter one that followed in the rough water ; 
 but their joy was short-lived, for just as they cleared the extreme 
 point of the right bank of the river, and that the whole lough was 
 open, they saw a larger boat than theirs under sail, and stretching 
 across, apparently with the intention to intercept them. 
 
 Not a word was said, but all gazed anxiously at this strange sail, 
 and then at each other, and the anxious looks that met too plainly 
 revealed that evil forebodings possessed the minds of all. — Ned was 
 the first to speak. 
 
 "What think you. Finch?" said he, appealing to him as the 
 highest authority in aquatic matters. 
 
 Finch, clenching his teeth hard, strongly aspirated and half growled 
 between them the characteristic reply of a sailor — -it was merely — 
 " d—n these lakes T^ 
 
 " But what's to be done ?" 
 
 " I say, d — n them again ! — If it was the honest sea we were in, 
 lying well to win'ard, as we are, we might beat them blind ; but with 
 that wall of hills on our weather-bow, we're done. — Curse it — we're 
 like rats in a corner." 
 
 " Let us run for it, however, while we can," said Ned j " there's 
 no knowing what luck may do for us yet." 
 
 As he spoke, a gun was fired from the larger boat. 
 
 " There's no mistaking that," said Finch. " "We must lower our 
 canvass, or determine to fight it out." 
 
 ** No fighting," said Lynch, in a calm steady voice. " Against 
 such odds it were but waste of life. Let them overhaul us^ — perhaps 
 we may be unmolested ; but, at all events, I am the only one on 
 whom their vengeance can fall, and if my time is come, so be it. — 
 God's will be done!" 
 
 Ellen grew deadly pale as he spoke, and clung to him. 
 
 " Nell, my girl, this is no time for quailing. I expect from you all 
 your firmness. — As you love me, be calm and resolute." 
 
 With wonderful self-control, the noble girl relaxed her fond hold, 
 and assumed an aspect of composure, though her cheek and lips in 
 their abated colour betrayed the agitation of her heart. 
 
 " Let us strike our sail at once," said Lynch, " and wait for our 
 pursuers." 
 
3T4 £ .?. d. 
 
 Ned obeyed the orders ; and then, when he had no further duty to 
 perform, he seated himself beside Ellen, and, gently taking her hand, 
 whispered such words of encouragement as his ingenuity could suggest 
 at the moment. 
 
 Phaidrig, who had been listening all this time, and had not spoken 
 B. word, got his pipes ready, and began to play. 
 
 " What the deuce are you lilting for now?" said Finch, who was 
 beginning to feel rather savage at the turn affairs were taking. 
 
 " It will look aisy and careless," answered Phaidrig, " to be playing 
 when they come up to us." 
 
 Finch, though he made no answer, admired the address of this little 
 manoeuvre, and took it as a lesson to clear his own brow, which was 
 father severe at the moment. 
 
 The boat in pursuit was soon alongside, containing some soldiers, 
 and an officer, who questioned those on board the chase who they 
 were, whence they came, and whither going. 
 
 To these questions answers were returned in accordance with a 
 previously-prepared story the parties had agreed upon ; but, as it may 
 be supposed, no answer could satisfy the officer, who only made his 
 inquiries as a matter of course, and ordered the voyagers to put about, 
 and go back to the castle until they should be examined. 
 
 " What offence, sir, have we committed?" inquired Finch, "that 
 we should be stopped on our way ? " 
 
 " You're an Englishman I judge, from your accent," was the 
 inconsequent reply. 
 
 " I am, sir," said Finch, " and, from your very Irish answer, I guess 
 you are a native? — I ask again, what offence have we committed?" 
 
 " That's what we want to find out, and therefore turn you back for 
 examination." 
 
 " According to that practice, sir, you presuppose every one 
 guilty?" 
 
 " And a pretty near guess too, in this d — — d rebelly place," said 
 the puppyish fellow, with an insulting laugh. 
 
 " I'd have you remember I am an Englishman, sir ! — We English- 
 men are jealous of our liberties, and take care what you're about." 
 
 The impudent coxcomb gave a long whistle, and exclaimed, 
 " Liberties indeed ! — very fine to be sure. — Why didn't you stay at 
 home with your liberties, and not come here ? — We'll give you a touch 
 of our law'practice that will enlighten you perhaps, so lose no time in 
 
 improving yourself— turn back to the castle. I'm d d soriy to 
 
 disoblige so pretty a girl ; but don't be afraid, my dear," he said to 
 Ellen, with a disgusting leer, " we are particularly kind to the fair 
 • sex." 
 
 At this insolent speech Ned's eyes flashed fire, whereupon the puppy 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 37.^ 
 
 became more saucy. " Ho, ho ! " he said, — " one fellow is jealous of 
 his liberties, and the other jealous of his girl, — we'll do justice to 
 both." 
 
 The orders to go back to the castle were obeyed, and no more was 
 said, though the boats continued abreast of each other ; but a succession 
 of impudent leers at Ellen were continued by the insolent soldier, while 
 looks of indignant defiance were returned by Ned. Finch, in the 
 meantime, observed the larger boat in the offing had gone about, and 
 bore away to the point whence she came, as soon as the armed boat in 
 pursuit had taken charge of the chase, which now, under guard, was 
 fast approaching the castle, many of whose military inmates had strolled 
 down to the water's edge to await her arrival, and seek in this little 
 event some variety in the dull monotony of their lives in so remote 
 a spot. 
 
 On entering the inlet which led from the river to the castle, the 
 guard-boat shot ahead, and the insolent coxcomb in command stepped 
 ashore, and was ready on the bank, when the boat of our voyagers 
 touched it, to hand Ellen out, having previously "tipped a wink" to 
 his idle brother officers in waiting, as much as to say, " You shall see 
 some fun." 
 
 Lynch was the first to land, and waited to assist Ellen, but the 
 coxcomb said to the sergeant of his party, " Pass him on." 
 
 " I wish to hand my daughter from the boat," said Lynch, laying 
 particular stress on the word daughter, in hopes that the presence of a 
 father might tend to procure that respect for his child which he saw 
 there was not sufficient of true manliness to insure her at the hands of 
 this insufferable puppy. . 
 
 " Pass him on ! " was the repeated order ; and Lynch, making an 
 effort to control his feelings, made no further objection. 
 
 Ned was now about to debark, but Ellen, in a whisper, besought 
 him to " be calm," and let her go first. Then, with a dignified self- 
 possession that so often disarms impertinence, she gave her hand to 
 the fellow she loathed, to hand her from the boat, but he rudely seized 
 her as she jumped to the shore, and forcibly kissed her. 
 
 Ned had been choking with rage up to this moment, and with 
 difficulty had obeyed Ellen's command to let her pass him, but when 
 he saw the indignity put upon her, he sprang like a tiger upon the 
 offender, seized him by the throat, and flung him to the earth with 
 the foulest epithets. 
 
 The wretch, thus justly punished, after recovering from the stun- 
 ning effects of his fall, scrambled to his feet, and, with a hellish ex- 
 pression in his eye, grasped his sword ; but, before it was out of the 
 sheath, Ned, with the quickness of lightning, snatched the blade from 
 the scabbard of the sergeant who stood near him, and met the mur- 
 
376 £ s. d. 
 
 derously-intended thrust of the infuriated soldier with an able parry. 
 Stung by the personal indignity he had suffered in the presence of his 
 brother officers, the coxcomb, in a state of revengeful frenzy, pushed 
 desperately at Ned, whose fiercest passions being roused by the insult 
 inflicted before his face on the woman he adored, could have sacrificed 
 at the moment a score of lives to his vengeance, and, therefore, used 
 his weapon with the deadliest intention. The officers bystanding 
 drew their swords, and rushed forward to beat down the blades of the 
 antagonists, but, before their assistance could avail, Ned had driven 
 his weapon to the very hilt through the body of the aggressor, who, 
 uttering a yell of agony, staggered back, — fell to the earth, and, 
 with one convulsive struggle, turned over on his face and literally bit 
 the ground. — 'Twas a sudden, terrible retribution —the hot libertine 
 lip that had violated the sanctity of a maiden's cheek now kissed the 
 dust. 
 
 There was a pause and a silence of some moments, all seemingly 
 paralysed by the suddenness of the catastrophe. At length the senior 
 officer present spoke, and ordered Ned to be taken in charge. 
 
 Ned, as he gave up the sword, said, " I appeal to you all, as sol- 
 diers and men of honour, to remember the act was in self-defence." 
 
 " You struck him," said one of the younger officers angrily; — 
 ** you — a prisoner at the time — struck him." 
 
 " And would repeat the act under the same provocation," cried 
 Ned boldly. — " A prisoner, forsooth ! — For what am I a prisoner ? — 
 We are dragged here, interrupted on our peaceful way, and a woman 
 grossly insulted — what law is there for that ? " 
 
 " You'll know more about the law before you're done with it," said 
 the officer, with a menacing nod. 
 
 '^ I must beg you to be silent. Lieutenant," said the senior officer, 
 who, turning to Ned, tdld him he should have fair play. He then 
 desired the dead body to be carried to the castle, and ordered the 
 prisoners to proceed there also. 
 
 While all this was going on, Ellen clung to Lynch, while her eyes 
 were turned on Ned ; and when he joined the party, she gave him 
 her hand, and walked on silently between her father and her lover, 
 for she could not speak. Finch and Phaidrig were in the rear, the 
 sergeant walking beside them. The sergeant, judging from his 
 weather-stained face, which bore a scar also> had seen service, and, 
 as far as manner could imply, thought Ned had done no more than he 
 ought. 
 
 " I think I have seen the elder of those prisoners before," said he 
 to Finch in an undertone. 
 
 ^'Indeed!" 
 
 " I'm sure of it." 
 
TREASURE TROVE. -877 
 
 " Where, do you think ? " 
 
 Phaidrig's ears were all alive for the answer. 
 
 " Abroad," said the Sergeant. 
 
 " You're mistaken," said Phaidrig ; " he never was abroad in his 
 life." 
 
 " Don't talk so loud," said the Sergeant. " I mean him no harm; 
 I would rather stand his friend if I could." 
 
 Finch looked him in the face as he spoke, and there was an honest 
 expression in it that never belonged to treachery. 
 
 " You are an Englishman," said Finch. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " So am I. — ^Britons do not like tyranny and oppression." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " You would help us if you could ? " 
 
 " As far as I dare ; — but do not speak any more now. When you 
 are locked up I will see you." 
 
 The party now progressed silently to the castle, on reaching which 
 the prisoners were conducted up a narrow stone spiral stair to the 
 summit of one of the towers, where they were placed in a small strong 
 room, and a heavy door fastened upon them. After the lapse of 
 about an hour the bolts outside were gently drawn, and the Sergeant 
 made his appearance. 
 
 " You're as good as your word," said Finch. 
 
 *' Hope I always will be." 
 
 ** I hear you have seen me before," said Lynch. 
 
 " I have, sir." 
 
 " I do not remember you." 
 
 " It was a crowded and busy place we met in ; — but I cannot for- 
 get you, sir ; for you saved my life." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " At Fontenoy, your honour. — You] were an officer of the Irish 
 brigade that hot day." 
 , "Well?" 
 
 " When the Duke of Cumberland's centre was broken by your 
 charge, and we were routed, some French regiments came bowling 
 down to take vengeance for the mauling they got in the morning ; but 
 the Irish lads got between, and would not allow slaughter, and your 
 own hand, sir, turned aside a blow that would have finished me as I 
 lay on the ground ; and I will say, all the Irish lads were kind friends 
 to the wounded English that were left on the field that day* — and I 
 
 * This often happened. On one occasion, in particular, though I cannot re - 
 member the name of the action, the Irish brigade, after a victory, went through the 
 field, seeking the wounded English who suffered in the adverse ranks, and showed 
 them the tenderest care. 
 
378 £ s. d, 
 
 never forgot it — and never Mall. You, sir, were amongst the foremost 
 in showing us kindness in hospital, and if, without a heavy breach of 
 duty, I can do you a good turn, I am ready." 
 
 " You are a true-hearted fellow, and I thank you," said Lynch. 
 " Is it long since you have been in Ireland ? " 
 
 " Not long, sir — and I wish I was out of it. I don't like their 
 cruel goings on here." 
 
 " Did you escape from Flanders, or were you exchanged?" 
 
 " Exchanged, your honour." 
 
 " I don't know, my kind fellow, how you can help me," said Lynch, 
 musing for a moment. " One thing alone I beg to remind you of — 
 that the less you say of the brigade the better." 
 
 " Mum's the word, your honour— too old a sojer for that." 
 
 " If your honour can't say anything," said Phaidrig, "may /put in 
 a word ? " 
 
 " Certainly, Phaidrig." 
 
 " Do you think now," said the piper to the Sergeant, " that there 
 would be any use in asking lave of that elderly officer, who seems a 
 dacent sort of a body, to let me go on a little bit of a message ? " 
 
 " Certainly not ; you are a prisoner." 
 
 " I know that ; but I mane to go undher guard." 
 
 " I fear not ; the officer would not like to do it without authority 
 from Mister Nevil." 
 
 " Nevil ?" exclaimed Lynch, anxiously, — " Jones Nevil ?" 
 
 " The same, sir." 
 
 A shade passed across Lynch's countenance ; it was noticed by 
 Finch. 
 
 " That seems bad news," said he. 
 
 Lynch did not answer ; but in the clasped hands and upraised eyes 
 of Ellen, Finch could read woful tidings. 
 
 " Well, if I can't go, maybe you could slip a smart lad across the 
 river, and bid him run to Portumna for the bare life ; and if the 
 lord is at home, tell him there's one here may die soon who has a 
 secret for him that he is behowlden above all things to hear ; and that 
 when he hears it, he wouldn't for half his estate not have known it : 
 and if the lord isn't at home, let the messenger go through fire and 
 wather till he finds him." 
 
 " That shall be done," said the Sergeant. " Anything else ? — make 
 haste, for I must not venture to stay here longer." 
 
 " Do that, and 'tis plenty — but do it soon." 
 
 The Sergeant pointed through a window in their prison, that looked 
 upon the waters, and said, " You shall see a messenger cross the 
 stream in five minutes." He then withdrew, and bolted the door 
 on the outside. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 379 
 
 According to the soldier's promise, the anxious watchers from the 
 tower saw the boat unmoored from the bank, and two men embark. 
 The boat was pulled across the river ; one of the men went ashore, 
 and started at a good pace up the opposite hill ; he was followed by- 
 eager eyes until he had gained the summit, and was lost in the 
 woods that crowned its crest, while the friendly boat returned to her 
 moorings. 
 
 Lynch asked Phaidrig what hope he could entertain of any benefit 
 from the presence of the Earl of Clanricarde, for whom he had sent, 
 he being a staunch adherent of government, and rather severe in 
 the authority he was appointed to exercise over the province, and 
 further expressed a belief that Clanricarde was now aware of his 
 (Lynch's) presence in Ireland, and would be amongst the readiest to 
 arrest him, though he confessed they might all be careless of anything 
 that might happen now, being already in Nevil's hands, which were 
 the most unsparing into which they could fall. 
 
 " But still I cannot see the drift of this mysterious message to the 
 Earl, Phaidrig," added Lynch. 
 
 " Masther ! masther !" said Phaidrig, " don't be asking me any 
 questions about it ; only God send the Earl may be here soon, and I've 
 a way of my own that will melt his heart to all of us." 
 
 The confident assurance of Phaidrig in his scheme turned the minds 
 of the prisoners with painful interest to the success of the messenger ; 
 and many an anxious eye was cast on the spot in the distant wood 
 where he had disappeared, in the hope of catching the first welcome 
 glimpse of his return. 
 
380 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 As the presence of regular troops stationed in a ruined castle may 
 appear strange to the reader, it may be as well to give a few words in 
 explanation on the subject. Under the wise administration of 
 Chesterfield, a confidence in the laws that governed them, and the 
 honesty of the men who administered those laws, arose in the people of 
 Ireland, and a tranquillity, rare in that disturbed land, was the con- 
 sequence, and the statesmanlike Earl was enabled to spare troops out of 
 the country. But, on the suppression of the Scottish rising, when 
 means of coercion were again plenty, the spirit of justice and lenity 
 which influenced Lord Chesterfield's government, became distasteful 
 to those who had been used to trample on the nation. The amiable Earl 
 was recalled, when justice, lately rendered as a measure of necessity, 
 might be once more dispensed with, and a more iron sway than ever 
 resumed. In consequence of this, an increase in the army was 
 required in Ireland ; for though the people had been held in a state 
 of slavery one wonders at, still, once having emerged from their 
 bondage, it was no such easy matter to push them back into it again. 
 For the thousands of additional bayonets thus become requisite in 
 the island there was not sufficient accommodation, and barracks 
 were ordered to be built in various parts of the country. This 
 job — for it was a job — was given to one Nevil, (alluded to by Lynch 
 in his interview with the Earl of Kildare,) that he might plunder 
 the national purse as a reward for his outrage of national rights. 
 A member of the House of Commons — his vote was ever at the 
 service of the government. His malignant propensities against the 
 people found him favour in the eyes of Lord George Sackville, and 
 his general profligacy endeared him to the Primate. In working out 
 his contract in the erection of barracks, he frequently converted some 
 old building, or a portion of a castle, into a tenement for the military, 
 at a small expense, while he pocketed large sums from the treasury as 
 though fresh barracks had been erected ; and in going his round of 
 the provinces, in this prominent position of a government agent, he 
 had frequent opportunities, and he never lost one, of indulging in 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 381 
 
 priest-hunting, or any other species of cruelty he could exercise. His 
 well-known influence at court gave him a power which few dared, and 
 none wished, to call into hostility, and thus, in many instances, men 
 were made the instruments of his vile passions who regretted the 
 obedience they feared to refuse. 
 
 It was thus the old castle on the Shannon became occupied with 
 soldiers, and Nevil himself being there for a few days, many vexatious 
 things were done in the neighbourhood, and he had a willing agent 
 in the unfortunate young man who was killed, — a nephew of his own, 
 — and partaking so much of his uncle's savage and profligate nature, 
 as to render him a favourite with his powerful relative. 
 
 Ned's plight was therefore one of imminent danger, indeed the 
 officers and men of the barrack looked upon him as a gone man, and 
 felt assured that the moment of Nevil's return to the castle, and know- 
 ledge of his nephew's death, would be the signal for Ned being 
 hanged ; for in those days short work was made with the mere Irish, if 
 a great man willed it so ; a regular trial might be tedious and trouble- 
 some, and the judgment of the law too slow a process for the satis- 
 faction of an impatient loyalist. 
 
 The anticipations respecting Nevil's course of action were proved 
 to be but too true ; for when this unscrupulous man of power returned, 
 and heard of the circumstances of the case, he ordered the instant 
 execution of the '^ rebel scoundrel" who had ^^ murdered^^ that "noble 
 young man," his nephew, one who would have proved an honour to 
 his profession, and a support to his " king and his country," &c. &c. 
 
 The senior officer in command of the troops represented, that as 
 the act of the prisoner was committed in the natural desire of pre- 
 serving his own life, it might be as well to give him up to the laws, 
 which would decide the question how far a prisoner had a right to 
 defend his life from his captor before being proved guilty. 
 
 To this an order was returned to " hang the rascal instantly." 
 
 The officer, though rebuffed, next ventured to suggest even a court- 
 martial. 
 
 This but sharpened the desire for immediate vengeance, and, with 
 the overbearing threat of a man who knew his power, Nevil dared 
 the officer to refuse to obey his commands. 
 
 The soldier withdrew, disgusted, but fearing to disobey ; and with 
 a heavy heart, the Sergeant, receiving his fatal orders, reascended the 
 stair, and re-opening the door of the prison, addressed Ned, saying he 
 wished to speak a few words to him, and beckoning him at the same 
 time from the room ; for he had not the heart to speak his message 
 in presence of a woman, and that the woman whom passing circum- 
 stances led him to believe was endeared to the fated prisoner. But 
 his caution availed nothing ; there was an expression in his face, 
 
382^ £ S. d. 
 
 and voice, and manner, that alarmed all Ellen's fears ; and with a 
 scream, she sprang forward, clung to Edward's neck, and with sobs, 
 and tears, and prayers, besought the soldier not to tear him from her — 
 for mercy's sake to spare him yet for a while — with many a passionate 
 and wild appeal to human feeling and divine assistance ; and during- 
 this scene of desperate agony all were paralysed but Ellen, who seemed 
 inspired with superhuman courage. 
 
 At length, Phaidrig, roused up suddenly into action, and calling on 
 Finch, desired him to look again over the waters, and see if any help 
 were come. 
 
 " The large boat that headed us in the lake is rounding the point 
 now," said Finch. 
 
 " God be praised !" exclaimed Phaidrig, dropping on his knees. 
 
 The voice of Nevil was heard from below, calling in a furious voice 
 to " bring down the prisoner." 
 
 Ellen but clung the closer to him ; and the kind-hearted Sergeant 
 was so agitated, that he was absolutely incapable of action, and could 
 not have dragged Ned from her embrace if he would. 
 
 The tramp of many feet was heard ascending the stair ; and when 
 several soldiers appeared at the door of the prison, Ellen, overcome 
 by the intensity of her feelings, swooned in Ned's arms. 
 
 The soldiers demanded his immediate presence below. Ned uttered 
 no word ; but impressing on the pale lips of his beloved one a fervent 
 caress, he laid her gently in the arms of her father, whose hand he 
 grasped firmly for an instant, and with silent exchanges of the grip of 
 fellowship with Finch and Phaidi'ig, he walked to the head of the stair, 
 where the soldiers awaited him. 
 
 " The boat ! the boat !" cried Phaidrig to Finch ; " where is 
 it now ?" 
 
 " Touching the shore, and people are landing." 
 
 " Is there a fine looking man among them ?" 
 
 " Yes, and in rich attire." ^ 
 
 " 'Tis the Earl !" exclaimed Phaidrig, in delight, laying his hand on 
 the Sergeant. " Take me down with you," he cried urgently, — " take 
 me down, and I will save his life yet." 
 
 *' 'Tis against orders," said the Sergeant, hesitating. 
 
 " As you hope for peace to your soul at your own dying hour, 
 don't refuse me !" urged Phaidrig. 
 
 " Come, then," said the Sergeant, — " suppose I am punished ; 
 I can't see murder done without trying to stop it, and you say 
 you can." 
 
 " I can, if I get speech of the Earl," said the piper. "Hurry! — 
 hurry! — Give me your hand — help me down the stair." The last 
 words were spoken as the prison door was closed ; and Lynch, with the 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 383 
 
 yet unconscious Ellen in his arms, gazed upon his child with an 
 expression of mental agony of which Finch had never seen the 
 equal. 
 
 When Phaidrig and the Sergeant reached the base of the tower, a 
 rope had been just placed round Ned's neck. Phaidrig, as he laid his 
 hand on Ned's shoulder to whisper him something, felt the hempen 
 instrument of death, and a tremor passed over his whole frame. 
 
 " God have mercy on us!" he exclaimed. — " This is hasty work ; 
 not only death without trial, but without letting a man say a prayer 
 before he suffers. — Sure, they won't refuse you ten minutes to ask 
 for Heaven's mercy." Then, in a whisper to Ned, he said, " Ask for 
 ten minutes." 
 
 Nevil's voice was heard without, ordering the prisoner to be 
 brought forth. 
 
 The Sergeant advanced and told him the prisoner craved ten 
 minutes to pray. 
 
 " Not a second!" said Nevil. — " My nephew died without a prayer, 
 and so shall he. — Bring out the rascal, and hang him up at once. 
 Curse you, you bunglers ; what are you fumbling at ? — One would 
 think you never hanged a man before. — Bring him out, I say ! " 
 
 The Earl of Clanricarde reached the entrance of the castle as Ned 
 was led forth for execution. 
 
 " What is this about, Mr. Nevil ?" asked the Earl. 
 
 " Murder, my lord." 
 
 " It will be murder if this young man is hanged, noble Clanricarde," 
 said Phaidrig, (jonf routing the Earl. 
 
 " What brings you here, Phaidrig-na-pib?" said Clanricarde. 
 
 " The hand of God," said Phaidrig, in a manner so impressive, 
 that even Nevil was struck by it. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" inquired the Earl. 
 
 " Will the noble Clanricarde let the poor piper have a word in his 
 ear to save an innocent life ?" 
 
 " Willingly." 
 
 Phaidrig advanced to the Earl, who permitted him to whisper ; the 
 words he said could have been but few, for his lips were but a moment 
 at the ear of the Earl ; but those words must have been potent, for 
 Clanricarde's face was suffused by a deep flush, succeeded by an 
 ashy paleness. He gazed at Ned intently, but could not speak. 
 
 " Lead on to execution ! " cried Nevil, profiting by the pause. 
 
 " I forbid it ! " cried the Earl. 
 
 " He slew my nephew," shouted Nevil, white with rage. 
 
 " Had he killed yourself, sir ? " said the Earl, drawing himself up 
 to his full height, and casting a look of disdain on Nevil, " he shall 
 not die but by the laws of the land." 
 
384 £ S. d. 
 
 " Do you forget who I am, my Lord ?" 
 
 " No, sir — though you seem to forget yourself." 
 ; " The Lord-Lieutenant shall hear of this," said Nevil. 
 
 " I will take care he shall," retorted the Earl. 
 
 " Do you know, sir," continued the arrogant minion of power, " that 
 boxes of Spanish gold have been found in possession of these prisoners, 
 clearly proving their connexion with hostile states ?" 
 
 " That shall be inquired into," said the Earl. 
 
 " The inquiry shall be conducted at the Castle of Dublin," said 
 Nevil, with a menacing air; " and I will be the bearer of this traitorous 
 gold myself. — Harness my horses, there ! — Good-bye, my Lord ! " 
 
 *' Stay, Mister Nevil," said Clanricarde, with an air of serious 
 authority, — " you seem to forget that 1 preside in this district. — 
 You shall not be the bearer of that gold, sir." 
 
 " I have taken it, my Lord, and I insist upon its guardianship." 
 
 " Guardianship ! " exclaimed the Earl, with a contemptuous laugh ; 
 — " guardianship of gold by Jones Nevil ! — Sir," he added, with iron 
 severity, " I presume you are yet ignorant of what my courier from 
 Dublin has just borne me intelligence of. — that Jones Nevil is 
 denounced by the House of Parliament, to which he is a dishonour, 
 for scandalous embezzlement of the public money." 
 
 The words fell like a thunderbolt on the hitherto audacious 
 offender, who, overwhelmed by the suddenness of the terrible charge 
 he knew to be true, slunk away ; while the Earl, entering the castle, 
 was soon after in secret conference with Phaidrig. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 885 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 Clanricarde retired to a small chamber in the castle, where he 
 remained alone for some time, before he summoned the piper to his 
 presence. He was aware that Phaidrig's words had taken him by 
 surprise, and urged him to precipitancy. The instantaneous favour 
 shown to the prisoner, and the contemptuous treatment of Nevil, were 
 the result of sudden heat, unusual in him, so long used to command, 
 and which he was anxious to recover, ere he held further communion 
 with an inferior, whose words had stirred his heart so strangely ; for 
 none knew better than the Earl how much authority is fortified 
 by impassiveness — that cold and steely armour of the great. More- 
 over, a secret passage of his early life was laid bare to him, when 
 least expected, and the maturer years of the staid and circumspect 
 Clanricarde would not derive honour from such glimpses of the past. 
 But yet the handsome face of that young prisoner bore such strong — 
 such touching testimony to the truth of the words he had heard, that 
 nature, at last, triumphed over the colder calculations of the politic 
 nobleman, and determining to hear and judge of all the piper had to 
 tell, Phaidrig, at his summons, was brought before him. 
 
 Having dismissed his attendants, the Earl bade the blind man 
 approach, and addressed him in that under-tone which we insensibly 
 adopt in speaking of secret things, however secure our place of con- 
 ference may be. 
 
 " This is a strange thing you tell, Phaidrig -na-plb." 
 
 " 'Tis as true as 'tis strange, my lord." 
 
 " Are you sure?" 
 
 " I wish I was as sure of heaven." 
 
 '' Can you tell me how and wherefore?" 
 
 " Aisy enough, my lord, if you'll listen a bit." 
 
 " Willingly — proceed." 
 
 " It is now nigh hand forty years, or something undher, that a brave 
 young gentleman used to rove by the woods and wathers of the broad 
 Shannon, and none abler, I hear, than he was, with the gun and the 
 rod; and plenty o' game fell to his share. His eye was quick for the 
 
 c c 
 
386 ij S, d. 
 
 rise on the river, or the bird on the wing — nothing escaped that quick 
 eye j for, by all accounts, it was very clear and bright, and, what- 
 ever it marked, was his own — the bird of the wood — the fish of the 
 sthrame " 
 
 "What need to talk so much of salmon and woodcocks?" said the 
 Earl, impatiently. 
 
 " Ah ! but, my lord, there was more than woodcocks in the wood," 
 replied Phaidrig, insidiously. 
 
 " Well— proceed." 
 
 "And where there's woods and woodcocks, there must be wood- 
 rangers — that stands to rayson." 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " And when wood-rangers are for evermore doing nothing but roving 
 up and down a wood, sure they get lonely, and want somebody to 
 keep company with them — and so they get marri'd— and then, av 
 coorse, they have childhre, and the childhre is as likely to be girls as 
 boys ; and, when the girls grows up, sure they will be rovin' through 
 the wood, lookin' for the wild strawberries and the like ; and the brave 
 young gentleman I was tellin' of used to meet a wood-ranger's daughther, 
 that, I hear, was as purty a crayture as ever bent grass undher her foot, 
 and a power o' grass she bent, I hear, by the long walks she used to 
 take with that same young gentleman who used to discoorse her soft." 
 
 " WTiat was her name ? " said the Earl. 
 
 " O'Brien, my lord — her father came out of Clare — Kitty O'Brien 
 was the girl's name." 
 
 " You are right — that was her name," said the Earl, identifying 
 himself at once with that " brave young gentleman," with whom Phai- 
 drig so delicately, as well as artfully, began his tale. 
 
 "Well, my lord, when neighbours began to spake, poor Kitty was 
 obliged to lave the neighbourhood, and, indeed, father and mother and 
 all went off, and settled up away there towards Galway — and there it 
 was that many a year after I first knew that same Kitty's daughter — 
 as sweet a darlin' as ever was reared. Och ! but my own poor heart 
 knew love's torment then — I ax your pardon, my lord, for takin' the 
 liberty; but, as you bid me tell the story, I loved the ground she 
 walked on — an' that's the thruth." 
 
 " Then, in short, I suppose this young man is your son?" interrupted 
 the Earl. 
 
 "No, my lord," said Phaidrig; "though I loved him full as well, 
 from the very minit I found out he was the son of my own first love, 
 my sweet Molly, for she wasn't called afther her mother, for fear 
 'twouldn't be lucky, and might run in the family; and, indeed, she 
 had a soft corner in her heart for myself But what good did that do 
 me ? — I was only a poor blind piper, and, though the tendher jewel 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 387 
 
 used to give a willing ear to my planxties, the chink of a snug man's 
 silver made sweeter music for her people ; * and what chance had I agin 
 the rich thradcr of Galway, and a dacent man too — I own it — but not 
 fit for Molly— for Molly, I do believe, as far as her own heart was 
 concerned, would rather have shared the lot of poor Phaidrig-na-pib, 
 blind and all, as he was, than be put beyond want in the warm house 
 of Denis Corkery." 
 
 " Then this young man, I suppose, you have known from his 
 birth?" 
 
 " Oh, no, my lord," said Phaidrig, sadly. " The minit that I knew 
 my darling Molly was lost to me, I kept out of sight of her, or any 
 chance of meeting her, and never went inside Galway if I could help 
 it, and, indeed, never cared for any woman afther ; for when the love 
 is once thrampled out of a man's heart, it seldom or never grows up 
 again, and the first love has a grip with it it never lets go ; and Molly 
 was always in the way if ever I thought of another girl — she stuck as 
 fast as a weed in an owld piece o' ground. — If my heart was ploughed 
 up ever so often, the new crop of love was sure to be overrun with the 
 Molly -weed — God forgi' me for sayin' weed— sure it's the flower she 
 was, and the brightest and the sweetest — " 
 
 " Well, well — to the point — to the point ! " cried Clanricarde, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " Ah, my lord ! " said Phaidrig, tenderly, " don't be angry with me 
 for praising your own child " 
 
 There was a sudden pause. Phaidrig's sensibility told him he had 
 been hurried by his warmth beyond the bounds of delicacy in speaking 
 of a piper's love for the offspring of a peer (though that offspring was 
 even unacknowledged) within the hearing of the father, who sighed in 
 bitterness at this incidental wound inflicted on his pride— for we 
 never feel more keenly than when stabbed through our own sins. 
 The Earl felt the silence to be awkward, and was the first to break it, 
 by asking how Phaidrig knew Ned to be the son of the Galway trader's 
 wife. 
 
 " By accident, my lord ; and Til remind yourself of the time I 
 found it out. Don't you remember, about six years ago, when there 
 was a remarkable day at the Galway races, when there was a cock 
 fight, and your lordship's bird, of the Sarsfield breed, won a main?" 
 
 " I remember well," said the Earl ; " and you were over busy that 
 day, master Piper, in playing a certain tune — " 
 
 "And there was a row in the town that night, my Lord — " 
 
 " I remember that too — and the Mayor knocked down." 
 
 " Faix, then, the Mayor, I am thinking, wouldn't have been so 
 angry," said Phaidrig, with a smile, " if he had known it was a dash 
 
 * Relations. 
 
388 £ S, d, 
 
 of the noble blood of Clanricarde that helped him into the gutther 
 that night." 
 
 " AYhat, this young man ?" 
 
 " The same, my lord." 
 
 " But there was clinking of cold steel that night in the riot ; how 
 came he into an affray of such quality ?" 
 
 " Faith, then, its himself handled a blade ; as nate as a fencin' 
 masther." 
 
 " Indeed ? — How came a Galway apprentice by that accomplish- 
 ment ?" 
 
 " That I don't know ; I suppose the blood of De Burgo was 
 sthrong in him, and he made it out a way of his own." 
 
 Clanricarde was pleased at this proof of daring accomplishment in 
 his descendant, and was silent for some time. 
 
 "Silent when glad." 
 
 " And what became of him after?" inquired he. '*How, I ask you 
 again, did you discover him to be the son of the Galway trader's 
 wife ?" 
 
 *' This was the way of it, my lord. — The town was no place for the 
 youth, that night; so we took him over the river with us." 
 
 "Oh! that's the way you escaped. What were the sentinels 
 about ?" 
 
 "As usual, my lord, they wor as idle as a milestone without a 
 number, and the devil a foot they marked our road, and so we got 
 into the Cladagh" 
 
 " Humph ! — as usual— that stronghold and refuge for any lawless 
 roisterer. But you said, ^ rve.^ Now, who were your companions 
 that night?" 
 
 "Oh, some friends o' mine, my lord, that did not like lodging in 
 the town, and preferred the wholesome air of the mountains of lar 
 Connaught." 
 
 "'I thought as much; take care, Phaidrig-na-pib, you don't come 
 under my notice sometime or other in a way I cannot overlook." 
 
 " Oh, you know, minsthrels are held sacred, my lord," replied 
 Phaidrig, laughing. 
 
 " Not if they play the ' blackbird ' too often. Have a care. Re- 
 member the fable of the trumpeter, who, when taken prisoner, asked 
 for mercy, because he did not strike with the SAVord, but only blew 
 a harmless instrument ; whereupon the conqueror replied, that the 
 trumpeter did more mischief than any armed man, as he, though he 
 did not fight himself, inspired hundreds to fight; and there lies the 
 mischief." 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 389 
 
 " Thrue enough, my lord," said Phaidrig boldly, and brightening up, 
 '*and sure there must be a deep love lying for evermore in the human 
 heart for such sthrains as can inspire to bowld deeds, 'for there never 
 was one of the mischievous songs or tunes, as you call them, that ever 
 was lost. They live — aye, and live even in the memory of those who 
 bate them; they are thransmitted through friend and foe from gene- 
 ration to generation ; and though the hands and hearts lie cold and 
 forgotten of those the minsthrel inspired, his words and his strains 
 are imperishable as long as there is man's courage or woman's love 
 left in the world." 
 
 "Hillo, Hillo, Phaidrig!" exclaimed the Earl, good humouredly, 
 "you are running 'breast high' now, but I must call you to a check ; 
 try back, man, and tell me what I have asked twice before. How did 
 you find out this youth was the son of the Galway trader's wife? The 
 third time is the charm, and now I hope you will answer me ?" 
 
 " Sure, I was answering you, my lord, only that you — " 
 
 "There you go again — running to fault — steady, steady! How 
 did you find him out? answer short." 
 
 . " He sent into the town, my lord, from the fisherman's hut in the 
 Cladagh, to his father s, and when I heerd his name, I knew he was 
 the child of darling Molly, and my heart warmed to him as much 
 a'most as if he wos my own son — for, indeed, it was a chance I wasn't 
 his father, myself." 
 
 "And what has he been doing ever since?" 
 
 " Faith, every thing that was dashing, and daring, and bowld, and 
 like a gentleman — and won a lady's heart into the bargain — kind 
 kith and kin for him, faith ; the De Burgo's wor all divils among the 
 girls, as your lordship knows betther than me." 
 
 "A lady's heart?" said Clanricarde, somewhat curiously, with a 
 strong emphasis on * lady. ' " 
 
 " Aye, faith, as rale a lady as ever stood in satin. Faix, its a quare 
 story, my lord, and something long, but I will cut it as short as I can 
 for you, and sthrive to insense* you upon it." 
 
 He then gave a brief history of Ned's adventures to the Earl, who 
 listened with intense pleasure to the numerous traits of gentle blood 
 and noble daring on the part of his grandson, inheriting so strongly 
 the mettle of theDe Burgo race, notwithstanding the plebeian contact 
 of poor old Corkery, that the Earl almost wished he could declare 
 him for his own. Phaidrig, in the course of his history, wisely dwelt 
 cliiefly on N^d's achievements at sea againt the Spaniards, and inge- 
 niously avoided as much as possible such disclosures as would excite 
 the political prejudices of the Earl. Jacobite affairs were glanced at as 
 little as might be, and finally, he assured his lordship that it was in the 
 *To give the sense of; to inform. 
 
390 <£ s. d. 
 
 endeavour to leave Ireland, and never again return to disturb the 
 Hanoverian possession thereof, that they had been pursued and taken ; 
 and the stirring account Phaidrig gave of young Nevil's insult to 
 Ellen, and the terrible retribution with which it was visited, recon- 
 ciled Clanricarde much towards the prisoner. 
 
 " The lady's father is here, too, you said ? " inquired Clanricarde. 
 
 " He is, my lord." 
 
 " But as yet you have not told me his name." 
 
 " Then, indeed, my lord, if you'll be led by me, I think it would 
 be just as well maybe you wouldn't ask [his name at all — for maybe 
 you wouldn't hke to hear it, seeing that in considheration of the hap- 
 piness of the young birds you wouldn't hurt the ould one ; and there's 
 no knowing what names might be objectionable to your lordship's 
 ear, as governor of these parts — and so, for shortness, we'll call him 
 ' the Captain.'" 
 
 Clanricarde was silent for a while, and then assented to Phaidrig's 
 suggestion; trusting the piper's judgment rather than his own desire 
 in the matter, and guessing that the name was one of which he had 
 better remain in ignorance, if he wished to pursue his benign inten- 
 tions towards the fugitives. 
 
 Clanricarde was right in thus trusting to Phaidrig's judgment, 
 which in this case, as in most others, was sagacious. He knew that 
 Lynch's person was unknown to the Earl, though of his name and 
 the heavy denouncements against it he could not be ignorant ; and he, 
 therefore, threw out the hint to the Governor of the western district 
 that to " keep never minding," as Paddy says, was the safest course, 
 or, in more poetic parlance, that " where ignorance was bliss 'twas 
 folly to be wise." 
 
 Anxious as the Earl was now to get the entire party safe out of 
 the country, under the assurance that they would never return, — thus 
 at once ensuring preservation to those in whom he became so unex- 
 pectedly interested, and accomplishing, without bloodshed, a beneficial 
 move for the Crown, under whose authority he acted, nevertheless, had 
 the too-celebrated name of " Lynch" reached his ear, he dared not have 
 disregarded the numerous proclamations " the Captain" had provoked, 
 and must have given up the father-in-law elect of his own grandson. 
 Making use of the piper's hint, therefore, and taking advantage of his 
 present ignorance, his object was to get such combustible materials 
 out of his hands as soon as possible, lest he might burn his fingers ; 
 for, though Clanricarde's general measures were sufficiently stern to 
 stamp him a staunch upholder of the government, yet the times were 
 such that a wise and merciful inaction might be construed into trea- 
 sonable activity. 
 
 FuU of these thoughts, the Earl desired Phaidrig to hasten to the 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 391 
 
 Strong room, and tell its inmates to be of good cheer, for that he him- 
 self would convey them from their present durance to his own castle, 
 where they might rely that no violence should be offered. ''But 
 a word with you before you part," said the Earl. "Is the secret 
 of the mother's birth known to her son ? " 
 
 " No, my lord, I never breathed it to mortal till now — nor would 
 not, only for the necessity." 
 
 " Well, you may tell him," replied Clanricarde. " I will be glad 
 to acknowledge so gallant a fellow." 
 
 Gladly Phaidrig hurried on the welcome message — blithely he 
 restored them to hope, though the secret of this sudden change in 
 their fortunes was not yet revealed ; and while he was yet engaged 
 in dispelling from Ellen's mind the terror which the recent scene had 
 inspired, a summons from the Earl to attend him, at once, to his boat, 
 reached the strong room ; the spiral stair of the tower was re-trodden 
 with lighter footsteps than it had been ascended ; in a few minutes 
 they were on board the boat which had awakened their well-founded 
 fears ; and the same sails that had intercepted their flight and thrown 
 them into the bands of their enemies, were soon wafting them to a 
 haven of safety. 
 
 Phaidrig having whispered Ned that he wished a few words with 
 him, they were stowed away together in the bows of the boat, while 
 Finch, at the Earl's desire, moved astern, and gave a " full and true 
 account" of the manner in which the foreign gold came into his pos- 
 session — that same gold which seemed destined not to reach the right 
 owner, but which was never in such imminent peril as when it got 
 into the hands of Mr. Nevil, whence it had been so timely rescued. 
 Ellen sat beside her father, retired from the rest, and felt, in the 
 temporary quiet of their smooth sail, a relief to the excited feelings 
 which the rapid and startling succession of events had that day so 
 harrowed up ; Clanricarde from time to time cast a glance towards 
 her charming face, touched by its beautiful expression, and felt that 
 his descendant had inherited not only the daring of the De Burgo, 
 but their appreciation of female loveliness, yet inherent in that gallant 
 race, as the halls of Portumna can bear witness to this hour, in the 
 person of their noble mistress. From Ellen his eye would wander 
 to Ned, whose glance he met once or twice in counter-gaze, as he 
 seemed to listen intently to the discourse Phaidrig was pouring into 
 his ear. The Earl felt it was the secret of his half noble ancestry the 
 piper was imparting, and that nameless intelligence of eye, enkindled 
 by sympathy, passed between them, and seemed already to make them 
 known to each other. 
 
 The boat, meanwhile, was gliding swiftly to the western shore of 
 the Lough -, on reaching which, Clanricarde wtis oi;e of the first to 
 
392 £ s, a\ 
 
 land, and when Ellen was about to step ashore the Earl offered her 
 his hand. 
 
 " Permit me, madam," he said in the blandest manner. " You 
 have already experienced so much rudeness to-day, that I would wish 
 to make you believe we are not all savages here." 
 
 " Thanks, my lord," said Ellen, as she accepted the nobleman's 
 courtesy with becoming grace, and stept ashore. 
 
 " And now, gentle lady," he continued, in a lower tone, and with- 
 drawing her from the bank, " at once to set your heart at rest, let me 
 assure you no harm shall fall upon your friends." 
 ■ " my lord ! " exclaimed Ellen, clasping his hand between both of 
 hers, and looking up into his face with the heavenly gleam of grati- 
 tude, making her sweet eyes more lovely ; " I will for ever bless your 
 name for this ! " 
 
 " Enough, fair lady, enough — pray take my arm ; we have a walk 
 before us to the castle." 
 
 " My lord," said Ellen, looking at her humble attire, and speaking 
 with a gracefulness of action that contrasted strongly with her out- 
 ward seeming ; " I am in strange costume to have a nobleman for 
 my cavalier^ 
 
 " No matter," replied he ; " the walk is through my own wood- 
 lands ; we shall have no impertinent lookers-on to make remarks." 
 
 As they proceeded he entered into conversation with his com- 
 panion, whom he found so accomplished in this respect that he enter- 
 tained a high opinion of her acquirements and good sense before their 
 walk was over ; and he was inclined to reckon her one of the most 
 charming girls he had ever met ere they had reached the castle, to 
 whose hospitable halls he bade her welcome as he led her through its 
 massive portal. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 593 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 The revelations Phaidrig had made were calculated to stir the 
 various parties concerned in various ways. Clanricarde, it has been 
 seen, was impressed with feelings of tenderness towards our hero, 
 and he, in his turn, was the sport of contending emotions. The first 
 feeling on Ned's part was that of pleasure at having a dash of noble 
 blood in his veins. Tliis might be expected, from the besetting weak- 
 ness of his nature ; but afterwards came the consideration of that 
 awkward " bar-sinister ;" — well, that was an accident he could not 
 help ; and the blood of De Burgo was in him, beyond denial, and on 
 his birth, at least, there was no blot. But then came the considera- 
 tion of what Lynch might think of this, jealous of honour as Edward 
 knew him to be. With such thoughts was he busy while approach- 
 ing the castle ; and as Lynch and Phaidrig kept close together, 
 engaged in earnest conversation, Ned had no doubt it related to Ids 
 newly-discovered relationship. Li this he was not mistaken ; but 
 Lynch had no opportunity as yet to speak to him on the subject, in 
 the midst of the bustle which the arrival of this unexpected party 
 produced. 
 
 The Earl, determined to show them every hospitality his castle 
 could afford, set about furnishing them with more suitable attire than 
 at present they wore> and wardrobe and armoire were put in requi- 
 sition to furnish forth fitting apparel ; and it was strange to observe 
 the usually stern Clanricarde interesting himself in the equipment 
 of Ned, whom he endeavoured to fit to the best advantage, and was 
 manifestly pleased to see what a good figure the fellow made in the 
 habit of a gentleman. 
 
 On holding a private conference, much as he was prepared to like 
 ' him, he found him surpassing his expectations. Ned's contact with 
 the world had rubbed down whatever shyness he might once have 
 laboured under, and pushing his own way in it had given him a 
 quiet confidence. And if some scenes in his life had not tended 
 towards refinement, love had supplied the deficiency, and inspired 
 him with the power to be acceptable in gentle company. 
 
394 £ s. d. 
 
 The Earl spoke with pleasure of his approaching union with Ellen, 
 and went so far as to suggest their remaining in Ireland, where, 
 under his protection, they might be certain of security ; but Edward 
 pointed out the impossibility of Ellen's separation from her father, 
 and advanced so many other good reasons for his going to Spain, 
 that the noble Earl was satisfied of its being the wisest course, and 
 yielded his wishes to his conviction. Being a man of resolve, when 
 once this was determined upon, he thought it prudent no time should 
 be lost in their abandoning the country, and set about ordering mea- 
 sures for an early movement the next morning. 
 
 While the Earl was thus engaged, our hero was summoned by Phai- 
 drig to a conference with " the Captain ;" and Ned had misgivings it 
 would not be as pleasant as the one just concluded. 
 
 On coming before Lynch, Ned perceived his brow was clouded, and 
 endeavoured to conciliate him by gentleness of manner ; saying, he 
 supposed he was aware of the strange history circumstances had 
 brought to light, and feared he was displeased. 
 
 " I had rather it were otherwise," said Lynch. " I would prefer 
 a pure descent from the Galway trader than a stained one from 
 a lord. But there is something displeases me still more." 
 
 " May I ask it, sir ? " — though Ned guessed what was coming. 
 
 *' You have been guilty of a deception. You have assumed a name 
 to which you are not entitled." 
 
 Ned hung down his head and coloured to the forehead ; this error, 
 into which an early weakness betrayed him, had often placed him 
 in awkward predicaments, and caused him some qualms of con- 
 science ; but circumstances had so involved him in the temptation to 
 continue the deceit, that he never had courage to declare the truth ; 
 but now it seemed the hour was come when his folly was to recoil 
 upon him with serious consequences. 
 
 " Though there is a stain in your descent, I would not object to 
 you for that — that was not your own act ; but assuming an honour- 
 able name to pass yourself oiF for something you were not, is a false 
 pretence, not punishable by law, but falling under the condemnation 
 of all honourable minds." 
 
 Ned made a passionate disclaimer of all dishonourable intentions, 
 spoke of it as a youthful folly which circumstances tended to confirm, 
 and made an appeal to Lynch's ear, if Corkery was not a very horrid 
 name, and one that might almost excuse his fault. This Lynch 
 would not admit, and told Ned he had done quite enough of gallant 
 things to make any name respected. 
 
 *' Could I have dared to lift my eyes to your daughter, sir, under 
 such a shabby name ? " 
 
 " Using a name falsely was more shabby — and that's what vexes 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 395 
 
 me, Ned. You, a dashing, noble-spirited fellow, to have been guilty 
 of a trick which belongs to swindlers and pickpockets ! " 
 
 " Oh, sir ! " exclaimed Ned, writhing under the words — ^' do not 
 use so harsh an expression — and — pray do not think it is in a spirit 
 of retort, I remind you of something which may palliate my offence 
 in your eyes. Remember, my dear sir, that I first knew you as 
 Count Nellinski." 
 
 *' I had the authority of my Prince for the title, which was used 
 only in political agencies in the service of my king, when its adoption 
 might be useful to him, not to me ; while you, without any aim but 
 the assumption of a title that tickled your ears, passed yourself off 
 under a false one. Besides, Nellinski is but a variation of my own 
 name, (not that I hold even that to be strictly right,) while Fitz- 
 gerald was rather a bold flight from Corkery." 
 
 " The very baseness and hateful sound of that name is my best 
 excuse," said Ned. "Now, sir, be candid; would you like your 
 daughter to be called Corkery?" 
 
 " I would rather she were caUed the name she had a right to, than 
 go about, like a daw, decked in feathers not her own — and such would 
 be her opinion, I am sure. — Ellen will be angry at this." 
 
 " Oh, sir, if you and she but knew how often this has been a pain 
 to me, how frequently I wished to confess all about it, but shrank 
 with a false shame from the avowal, you would rather pity than blame 
 me. I hope I can persuade her to think no worse of me for it — and 
 you too, sir." 
 
 " Corkery," said Lynch, " a woman will forgive much in the man 
 she loves ; and though Fitzgerald is a prettier name than Corkery" — 
 and Lynch laid much stress on the name each time — " I say, though 
 Corkery " 
 
 " Oh ! that hateful name ! " exclaimed Ned, in disgust, '• must I be 
 called that name ? — what shall I do when I meet those who knew me 
 under another?" 
 
 "Meet them with a prouder front, Ned ; for then there will be no 
 deceit about you. But, come," he added, feelingly, for an hero's sense 
 of shame touched him. " Ellen will forgive you, as I forgive you, 
 Ned, for the noble points in your character and conduct which have 
 endeared you to both of us — but remember, my dear fellow, you have 
 no right to take another man's name — it is doubly false — it is wrong- 
 ing him if you do it dishonour, and it may be putting on inferior 
 mettle the stamp that will make it pass current upon the world." 
 
 " You are right, sir," said Edward ; " and if to acknowledge and 
 feel sorrow for a fault is, as I have heard, partly atoning for it, mine 
 is not as heavy as it was ; and, in truth, I feel happier for tliis expla- 
 nation, though I confess I do hate the name I must bear." 
 
896 £ s. cL 
 
 " Give me your hand — you liave a frank spirit — and now, that you 
 are willing to do the right thing, I will try to help you to a pleasanter 
 name." 
 
 " How, sir ? " said Ned, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. 
 
 " In marriage sometimes it is stipulated that a man takes the name of 
 his wife — suppose I make that a condition in your wedding, Ellen ?" 
 
 Ned could scarcely speak ; but wrung Lynch's hand with fervour, 
 and endeavoured to say something of the honour of being allowed to 
 take the name. 
 
 " Ned, what that is mine would I not give you when I have given 
 you my Ellen! She is to be yours, with my blessing. Heaven 
 knows how long I may be in this world — the laws may demand me, 
 though Clanricarde will protect you, without doubt. Take, then, tlie 
 name and arms of our ancient family ; you will do honour to both." 
 
 While Ned was expressing hope that the favour of the Earl would 
 be extended beyond him, their conversation was interrupted by a 
 summons to the hall, where the board was spread in all the proverbial 
 amplitude of Galway hospitality, and afterwards the wine-cup circled 
 freely. The potations of those times were wont to be deeper than 
 ours, whose modern code of after-dinner laws names half an hour as 
 the measure of vinous indulgence after the ladies have retired ; and, 
 it is likely, the rounds of the claret-flask were not limited to so stinted 
 a period in the hall of Portumna that day ; but there was no excess, 
 notwithstanding. In a society so much higher than he was used to, 
 Finch forbore an indulgence to which he would have yielded at an 
 humbler board, and Ned, hearing the notes of a harpsichord, and Ellen's 
 voice, when the door was occasionally opened, longed to be of that 
 party ; so he and his friend paired off to the ladies, and left the Earl 
 and Lynch together. 
 
 For this Clanricarde was not sorry ; he rather wished a few words 
 in confidence with " the Captain ;" and there is much that, in the morn- 
 ing coldness of your private closet would be harsh and difficult to treat, 
 which the genial influence of the hearth and the wine-cup render 
 smooth and easy. So felt the Earl, as, pushing the bottle to his guest, 
 he said — 
 
 " I know you will excuse something I am going to say to you. Cap- 
 tain. I am here, you know, in a high trust ; and though my autho- 
 rity gives me great latitude in the exercise of enforcing or relaxing 
 the laws, yet if, in the latter case, I stretch a point, I wish to satisfy 
 my conscience that I do no wrong to my King. Now, Captain, as 
 that is the only name I am to know you by (though the Earl's smile 
 suggested the idea that he guessed a little more), will you promise mc, 
 on your honour, that when you leave Ireland tltis time" — and he laid 
 some emphasis on the words — " Avill you promise, I say, never to 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 897 
 
 return to it again, and to abstain from disturbing its peace ? and then 
 my conscience will be at rest respecting my duty to his Majesty." 
 
 " For the sake of those who are dear to us both, my lord, I do 
 promise." 
 
 " Captain, your hand — I thank you — I am satisfied ; and, believe 
 me, 'tis better for yourself ; the cause of ' a certain person' is hopeless, 
 and the people of this country arc besotted in showing so pertinacious 
 a spirit of resistance to the laws." 
 
 " Can you wonder, my lord, they would resist laws so cruel and 
 so unjust? Surely, the persecutions the Irish Catholics undergo suffi- 
 ciently account for their disaffection. 
 
 " I am no friend to persecution," said Clanricarde, " but I will retort 
 by this question, — Can you wonder that when Protestants have the 
 power they use it against a religion which, in its palmy state, has ever 
 oppressed the Protestants ?" 
 
 '•' There are bright exceptions, my lord, to the sweeping charge you 
 make." 
 
 "Is not the revocation of the edict of Nantes yet fresh in our 
 memory," exclaimed Clanricade, " and the consequent persecution 
 of Protestants in France ? Can you wonder if a Protestant power 
 retaliates the injustice of a Catholic one ?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord, I do ; and I aver that a wise Protestant power 
 w^ould not, with the example before its eyes of the consequence of that 
 very prescriptive act of Louis the XIY. ; it drove from the land a 
 hundred thousand families of the best subjects in France ; artizans, 
 who carried their industry to other countries which they enriched at 
 the expense of their own. It banded many more thousands in regi- 
 ments, which fought on the side of every enemy of Louis, just as the 
 Irish Brigade of exiled Irish Catholics fought on his against the 
 crown, of which good laws would have made them the support. But 
 persecution has ever the same results — and seeing those results, I do 
 wonder that any government adopts a measure, ruinous in its imme- 
 diate action, and never succeeding in the end desired." 
 
 " That all sounds very well, Captain, as f^ir as argument goes ; but 
 I repeat it, Protestants cannot forget the terrible persecutions their 
 religion has suffered at the hands of the Catholics — St. Bartholomew, 
 for instance." 
 
 " No wonder, my lord, that atrocious act should be remembered ; 
 you cannot abhor it more than I do ; and pray observe, I con- 
 demn persecution of all sorts, and on any side, and still put forward 
 my argument that it defeats its own design. Even the wholesale mas- 
 sacre of that bloody day strengthened the Protestant cause, not only 
 in the indignant survivors, and their brethren in all lands, but even 
 in France, where many who then wavered in their opinion, withdi'ew 
 
sm £ s, d, 
 
 in horror of the abominable deed from the CathoHc faith, and em- 
 braced the Reformed one. — Is not this history, my lord ?" 
 
 " ' Tis so said," replied the Earl. 
 
 *'And as for the revocation of the edict of Nantes, my lord, remem- 
 ber that edict had given protection for a century to French Pro- 
 testants — there were never any such laws in England or Ireland. — Do 
 you remember, my lord, that edict gave to the Protestants, not only 
 the exercise of their worship, |^but ensured their admission to all 
 employments ; established, in every parliament, a chamber composed 
 of magistrates of each religion, tolerated the general assembly of 
 reformers, with power to levy taxes for the wants of their Church ; and 
 all this was done at the time when the utmost severity was exercised 
 against the Catholics in England and Ireland, who never had one 
 hour's remission then or since of the most biting penal laws. — Is this 
 true or not, my lord ?" 
 
 "I cannot deny it," said Clanricarde; "but all that is revoked 
 now in France." 
 
 " It is, my lord ; but I remind you of these things, only to show 
 your lordship that you were mistaken in saying the Catholic religion, 
 in its palmy state, had always oppressed the Protestants ; the Pro- 
 testants have had large privileges, even powers of state, under a 
 Catholic government — but, I ask you, what has the Irish Catholic had ? " 
 
 " Captain, you argue better than I can — but still — I would say — " 
 Clanricarde paused, and after some time, Lynch continued — 
 
 " My lord, you find it difficult to answer, and you attribute to my 
 power of argument what belongs simply to the strength of the facts 
 I adduce. Believe me, I blame the revocation of the edict of Nantes as 
 much as you do, but I maintain that act is no justification of the penal 
 laws of Ireland. The commission of injustice on one side is no excuse 
 for the commission of injustice on another. Would to Heaven men 
 could see that the profession of different religious opinions should not 
 make them each other's deadly enemies, urging them to the most dis- 
 graceful outrages on humanity — that a gospel of peace should not 
 engender strife — and that to be a Christian, is not of necessity to be a 
 butcher!" 
 
 " Hard words these. Captain," said the Earl. 
 
 '' I hope not offensive, my lord — indeed I did not mean them to be 
 so. I own I feel deep abhorrence of all who would persecute in the 
 name of God. They can profit but little by the example our divine 
 Master gave us on earth." 
 
 " I agree with you there, Captain ; and, believe me, I do not approve 
 of much that I see in the rule of this country ; the Primate I blame 
 much, and you know how I treated his prime favourite and minion 
 this day.-—" 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 399 
 
 " You have been the saviour of our lives, my lord, and I thank you. 
 Your mercy this day is the best proof of your lordship's favourable 
 disposition to the poor persecuted Irish." 
 
 *' Indeed, Captain, I would that their condition were better. I wish 
 they would give us Chesterfield again for viceroy. He was a wise 
 and merciful ruler." 
 
 " And a sound statesman in so being, " said Lynch. " I know it," he 
 added, with emphasis, " for I can tell you, my lord, his gentleness dis- 
 armed more rebels to King George in Ireland, than all the severities 
 of his successors." 
 
 " I can believe it, " said the Earl ; " but," he added, s'miling, " don't 
 make any confidences with me on that subject, Captain. Suppose we 
 go to the ladies, and have the acerbities of our political discussion 
 sweetened by some music." 
 
409 £ 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 While the -evening was pleasurably spent in the castle, arrange- 
 ments had been looked to for the work of the morning. A boat had 
 been forwarded overnight, by the Earl's order, to Killaloe, where it 
 might be removed overland to the foot of the falls, and be in readi- 
 ness for the voyagers after they should traverse the lake. That work 
 had been done, the boat had been re-launched below the mighty roar 
 and rush of Derg's wide waters, where the variable Shannon, again 
 confined to its river form, pursues its rapid course to Limerick and 
 the sea ; and her crew, after enjoying a hearty meal, were reclining 
 on the river's bank, smoking and telling stories, when the report of 
 a gun above the falls attracted their attention. Springing to their 
 feet, they hurried up the slopes, and saw the Earl's yacht shortening 
 sail, and throwing her grappling ashore. The Earl himself was of the 
 party that landed ; and among the removals made from the sailing 
 craft to the barge below the falls, v;ere some small strongly-hooped 
 barrels of unusual weight. When these were safely bestowed, the 
 Earl handed to the boat a young lady, who seemed to engross his 
 particular attention, and the rest of the party following, the barge 
 was pushed off, and the rapid course of the river, and the vigorous 
 pulling of four siout rowers, soon bore them to Limerick. 
 
 Clanricarde, wishing to avoid the publicity which the lodging at an 
 inn involves, led the party to the house of a private citizen, where they 
 were received with welcome. Lynch and his daughter remained with 
 the Earl, within doors, but Ned and Finch at once set out to find the 
 quickest and most desirable means of shipment. It has been already 
 mentioned that the Irish coast then swarmed with King's cruisers; 
 therefore, to attempt a passage to France in a small craft, (unless of 
 such sailing quality as was not to be obtained by chance,) would have 
 been madness, so a passage in any merchantman bound to an English 
 port was what they sought, whence the smuggling trafiic with which 
 they were conversant would help them to a cast across the channel ; 
 and, by good luck, a brig for London was to sail the following day. 
 No time was lost in striking a bargain, and Finch and Ned returned 
 to their quarters, rejoiced in having made so speedy an arrangement. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 401 
 
 When the shadows of night had fallen, and lessened the chance of 
 being observed, Clanricarde strolled forth with "the Captain. " During 
 their sail that day they had much converse, and the Earl was won upon 
 by Lynch, whose quiet, though deep, devotion to the cause of his 
 country, found respect in the bosom of one whose ancestors were often 
 banded in the national cause, had resisted the tyranny of Strafford ; 
 of whose house, one of the noble maidens had intermarried with Sars- 
 iield, and some gallant scions had fallen on foreign battle-fields 
 opposed to the interests which the present Earl supported, though un- 
 willing to support them in the sanguinary spirit of the time. He 
 wished some parting words with the soldier who was about to expa- 
 triate himself for ever, and it is more than probable, that his brief 
 intercourse of two days with Lynch had influence on the powerful 
 peer to direct his attention to the abatement of the severities of 
 government, and the seeking to procure a more wise and liberal legis- 
 lation. 
 
 As they passed the foot of an ancient bridge, in the course of their 
 deep and earnest discussion of political affairs, Lynch stopped and 
 pointed to a large block of stone that stood beside the parapet. 
 
 " You know that stone, my lord ?" 
 
 " I know what you are going to say," said the Earl ; " you are 
 about to speak of the broken treaty." * 
 
 " Yes, my lord ; you spoke last night of the revocation of the edict 
 of Nantes. But remember, that treaty was observed for nearly a 
 century, while the treaty of Limerick was not observed for an hour 
 after its gallant garrison had marched out with the honours of war. 
 Both treaties were of similar import, and if ever one beyond another 
 was to be observed, it was that of this well-defended city. Sarsfield 
 had only agreed upon terms, which were not yet signed^ when a 
 Erench fleet sailed into the Shannon with troops and munitions, 
 which might have made a different termination to the war ; and when 
 some, rejoicingly, told him the town was relieved and the game their 
 own, the high-minded Sarsfield said, * No,' the honour of a soldier 
 was superior to a mere legal technicality, and the act he had pro- 
 mised he would ratify. — My lord, that treaty never should have been 
 broken. But political crimes, like all others, bring their punishment. 
 Had it been observed, Ireland would now be a peaceful and pros- 
 perous country, giving its arts and its arms to England, instead of 
 being her enemy in the field and a blot in her history." 
 
 " I admit the truth of all you say," said the Earl ; " but I hope 
 before I die to see the dawning of better days for our country. At 
 
 * Tradition still marks the stone whereon the treaty of Limerick was signed. 
 
 D D 
 
402 £ s. d, 
 
 present I own they are dark. But let us return to your friends ; 
 our theme is an ungracious and painful one — come ! " 
 
 " Let me look once more upon that stone before I go into my 
 exile," said Lynch ; " that stone which ought to have been the altar 
 of a nation's liberties, and is but the memorial of her wrongs. — 
 Farewell ! " he almost sobbed — then, throwing himself on his knees 
 before it in the impassioned melancholy of the moment, he ex- 
 claimed, " Let me embrace it ! — Noble monument of an Irish 
 soldier's honour!" — then, rising, he added, " and an English monarch's 
 perfidy ! " 
 
 " Come, come," said Clanricarde, dragging him away, " I hear 
 footsteps approaching ; your Druidical worship might get you into 
 trouble were it observed." 
 
 Lynch and the Earl retired hastily, and were silent for some 
 minutes. The Earl resumed. 
 
 " The English monarch, whose perfidy you blame, happened to be 
 a Dutchman^^ 
 
 " He filled the English throne, however, my lord." 
 
 " And I believe," continued Clanricarde, " was anxious to do jus- 
 tice to Ireland ; but could not." 
 
 " Could not, my lord ! What is there William of Nassau might 
 not have done then ?" 
 
 " He had many interests to conciliate." 
 
 " A monarch should have but one, my lord — the interest of his 
 whole kingdom." 
 
 " In Ireland, particularly, there was a violent party, who persuaded 
 him they were necessary to his rule." 
 
 " And shame on him, my lord, for listening to such wicked counsel 
 — a counsel listened to by all successive rulers. Shame, — shame ! — 
 Never can this land be prosperous or tranquil so long as the sove- 
 reign of England permits the petty tyrants of Ireland to trample on 
 so fair a portion of the realm." 
 
 Clanricarde ceased to offer any more plausible apologies for injus- 
 tice, as they were all swept away before the honest indignation of 
 Lynch, whom he next endeavoured to lead from so stormy a topic, 
 by adverting to the prospects of Ned and Ellen. As this touched 
 a tender chord in Lynch's bosom, the discourse assumed a more 
 harmonious tone, and they held gentle converse together in their 
 nightly walk till the bell of St. Munchin's warned them it was time to 
 repair homeward. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. ^03 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 The same bell chimed an hour the following morning that warned 
 our voyagers it was time to embark. The courteous Clanriearde 
 bore them company to the brig, whose sails were already unfurled, and 
 the anchor being weighed. The Earl took Ned aside, and after some 
 brief but affectionate words, concluded by saying, that as there was 
 a long journey before him ere he should reach his uncle in Spain, he 
 wished to bestow on him a token of his regard, which might be useful 
 on the road, and placed in his hands a pocket-book containing a bill 
 on a London merchant for five hundred pounds. Then, addressing 
 himself to Ellen, he begged her acceptance of a small gift, which he 
 hoped she would wear on the day of her marriage, and presented her 
 with a Maltese cross set in diamonds. 
 
 '' Phaidrig," he said, " has refused my offer of becoming the piper 
 of Portumna Castle ; he will follow you, I find." 
 
 " And the noble Clanriearde won't blame me for that same," said 
 Phaidrig, " though I thank his lordly generosity." 
 
 " No, Phaidrig ; but, remember, the gate of Portumna is always 
 open to you." 
 
 " And never was shut yet to the minstrel," said the piper. 
 
 " To you it is open on higher grounds than that of your craft, 
 Phaidrig ; for your fidelity and affection, and the service you rendered 
 in saving a life that is dear to me ; and though you refused my offer 
 of a home, you must not refuse this," — and he placed a purse, with no 
 inconsiderable sum of gold, in the piper's hand. — " Not a word of 
 refusal, Phaidrig ; if you will not use it in the shape of coin, the gold 
 will serve for a handsome mounting to your pipes." 
 
 The " heave-o " of the sailors, and the measured stroke of the wind- 
 lass, had ceased ; the anchor was up, and the brig began to drop down 
 the river. The time to part was come ; short and few, but affectionate, 
 were the words of farewell. The Earl went over the side into his boat, 
 the sails of the brig were sheeted home, and she bent to the favouring 
 breeze on her seaward course. 
 
 The voyage was prosperous, but afforded nothing of incident worth 
 relating ; therefore, suffice it to say, thcit in a few days a safe landing 
 
 D D 2 
 
404 £ s, d. 
 
 was effected in London. A quiet lodging was soon secured for Lynch, 
 Ellen, and Ked ; Finch saying he would be off to his old quarters 
 with his goo3-liearted landlady, " Mother Banks," as he always called 
 her, and suggested that Phaidrig should join him^ and enliven, for the 
 few days they might remain, the tavern of the kind widow. This 
 arrangement was thought excellent ; and Finch and the piper (and the 
 faithful Tiirlough into the bargain) set off directly. It was between 
 " day and dark " when they reached the, snug house of call, so that it 
 was no difficult matter to slip in unperceived. Placing Phaidrig in 
 the room of general reception, Finch told him to have his pipes in 
 readiness, and when he should give him a certain signal, to commence 
 playing. 
 
 " We'll surprise the widow," said Finch. 
 
 " Well and good," answered Phaidrig. 
 
 Finch then went into the back parlour, where Mother Banks had 
 just lit a candle, and much was the open-hearted landlady rejoiced to 
 see him. They talked for some time about the thousand and one 
 things that had happened since they had last met ; and in the midst of 
 their alternate question and answer. Finch gave the signal agreed upon 
 between him and the piper, who opened his chanter directly, and lilted 
 one of his favourite airs. The moment the widow heard the first 
 sound of the pipes, she uttered a hurried and almost breathless ex- 
 clamation of pleasure ; and Finch, laying hold of her hand, felt her 
 trembling violently, while she said, " Poor fellow — poor dear fellow — 
 he's come back ! " and her eyes filled with tears. Finch saw, in an 
 instant, that, as he suspected, the widow had a " sneaking kindness " 
 for Phaidrig ; so, hastening into the outer room, he led in the piper, 
 to whom he gave a hint, by the way, to give the widow a hearty kiss 
 for a welcome. He executed Finch's order in excellent style ; and 
 the widow seemed nothing loth for the first salute ; but when Phai- 
 drig kept " continually going on," Mrs. Banks, half suffocated, con- 
 trived to struggle out of his arms; and, when she recovered her 
 breath, said, 
 
 " Well, Master Faydrig, for a dark man, it is wonderful how well 
 you can find your way." 
 
 " Sure, my darlin' I " says Phaidrig, " isn't it an owld saying, that we 
 can find the way to our mouths in the dark ? " 
 
 " Not to other people's mouths," said Mrs. Banks, coquettishly. 
 
 " You thought so before," said Phaidrig ; " but now you know the 
 differ." 
 
 " Well, well, but you Irish fellows have an answer for everything. 
 I'm sure. Master Faydrig, I never thought you were such a rantipole 
 till now. Dear ! ^but my cap is tossed and my han'kecher ruffled ! " 
 and as she made these complaints, she was fidgeting about smoothing 
 
,^- (>'>/-e/Vv-^ 
 
 a> 
 
 / .y 
 
 4/y//ZJ/'//\ 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 405 
 
 her feathers, and declaring Captain Finch was "just all as bad for 
 laughing so." 
 
 " Why, what harm, mother?" said Finch. "There's another old 
 saying, you know, that * seeing is believing, but feeling has no 
 fellow.'" 
 
 " Except when a fellow has no feeling," said Phaidrig. 
 
 " And there's an excuse for him, you know, mother," said Finch, 
 " that as he can't see ." 
 
 " Hold your tongue," said Mother Banks, " I know you're a going 
 to say impudence, so ha' done. I'll contrive to stop your mouth, — I 
 will. And as Master Faydrig was talking of finding the way there, 
 the proverb shall be fulfilled in the true meaning, by my serving up 
 to you as nice a veal pasty as ever knife and fork was set in." 
 
 "And a bottle of the good old stuff*, mother, if any is left." 
 
 " A nice little corner in the bin yet. Captain." 
 
 "Right, mother! — * Fulfil and fill full' 's the word for old sayings 
 and old wine." 
 
 Mother Banks bustled off" ; and the larder and the cellar and the 
 kitchen were visited in her kindliest spirit ; and there was a merry 
 supper-party of three in the little back parlour that night. They sat 
 up late, and had much talk afterwards ; and, as she had asked many 
 questions of Finch about his doings during his absence, he inquired 
 of her how affairs were moving in London in the mean time. She 
 told him they went on but sadly ; that those in power and all who 
 favoured them had got so " hoity toity" of late that no " free-hearted" 
 gentleman dared say a word — they must be all as mute as mice now ; 
 and, since they had fears no longer from the north, their high-handed 
 proceedings were past all patience. And then the cruel hangings, 
 and quarterings, and gibbetings, to say nothing of all the lords they 
 were beheading on Tower-hill — oh, 'twas fearful '. — London was no 
 more the merry place it was ; it was turned quite into a slaughter- 
 house, and, indeed, sometimes she wished herself out of it. Finch 
 ventured to conjecture that, nevertheless, her house went on as well 
 as ever. She said it was not much damaged, in the main; but some- 
 how the people didn't seem as merry as they used to be, and she had 
 not half the pleasure in the trade she used to have. Most of their 
 conversation was of a " sad-coloured" character ; and the next day 
 Finch told Phaidrig he ought to help to gladden the widow's heart 
 with his good humour, and take up his quarters in the house at 
 once as her husband. Phaidrig admitted the widow was a " nice 
 woman entirely," and that no man she would take could do better 
 than have her. Finch expressed his belief the widow would not say 
 nay to him ; whereupon Phaidrig started a fresh objection — " he 
 wouldn't lave the masther." — Lynch he was determined to follow for 
 
406 £ S, d. ^ 
 
 the future. In this state of affairs Finch watched his opportunities 
 whenever they offered, to sound the widow as to how her mind lay 
 towards matrimony, and was not long in bringing her to own that 
 the piper was not objectionable. Phaidrig and she were quick in 
 understanding each other, and the question of the piper leaving 
 Lynch, or the widow quitting England, alone remained to be settled. 
 Phaidrig argued that as she complained of London becoming so sad, 
 and as France was a fine frisky place, the best thing she could do 
 was to go there with him. 
 
 " But sure I can't speak French," said the widow. 
 
 " Arrah, but can't I spake Irish ?" said Phaidrig. 
 
 "But what good would that do ?" said the widow ; " they can't 
 understand either English or Irish." 
 
 " Well sure," said Phaidrig, " there would be no disgrace in our 
 not understhanding French ; and as they only spake one language 
 which we don't undher stand, and as we, between us, can spake two 
 that they don't undherstand, the balance would be in our favour ; 
 doesn't that stand to rayson ?" 
 
 The widow laughed at Phaidrig's whimsical way of settling that 
 difficulty, and after some few days further pressing on his part, she 
 said, she "would think of it." Now, as the "woman who deliberates 
 is lost," it may be conjectured how the matter terminated. It must 
 be acknowledged, however, that the landlady's sympathies were 
 unfairly influenced by Phaidrig reminding her what " beautiful brandy" 
 there was in France. 
 
 Of the principal personages of our story, we say nothing during 
 their sojourn in London; for no incident worth recording occurred. 
 They lived as quietly as possible, and with as much of secrecy as 
 would not arouse suspicion where they lodged. They frequented no 
 public places, therefore the great city was at once dull as well as dan- 
 gerous ; for danger there certainly was to those who had been so 
 actively engaged in the Pretender's cause, as long as they remained in 
 the British dominions. It was with rejoicing, therefore, they beheld 
 Finch, with a smile on his face, pay them a visit one evening to tell 
 them to be in readiness. He, ever since their arrival, had been 
 casting about in his old haunts, by the river, to find out when and 
 how a safe run might be made across the channel, and, at length, 
 heard of a promising venture. 
 
 " To-morrow night," said Finch. 
 
 " To-morrow night" was echoed in the heart of each anxious listener; 
 " to-morrow night" haunted their dreams; to their feverish impatience, 
 the intervening time seemed of unusual duration, but the leaden-footed 
 hours at length brought the appointed moment. That night they 
 were on the waters. 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 40] 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 Five days afterwards, the welcome towers and spires of Paris rose 
 on the view of a merry travelling party, who were posting rapidly 
 towards that cheerful capital by the northern road. That party con- 
 sisted of our friends, who had safely passed the perils of the channel. 
 
 The earliest business of the next day was a visit to the Irish Col- 
 lege, for, by one of the fathers of that establishment, and within its 
 chapel, did Lynch desire his daughter should be married. He and 
 Ned went together, while Ellen drove to her friend, Madame de 
 Jumillac, to request her presence at the wedding. Much was Madame 
 rejoiced at the sight of her dear young friend, who, after some maiden 
 hesitation, told her what was going to happen. Madame wondered 
 any young lady would be married in such a quiet fashion — a wedding 
 ought to be a gay and handsome affair. Ellen said her father disliked 
 parade, and, as it was an object to her future husband to reach Spain 
 with all speed, it was determined she should be married to-morrow. 
 Madame hoped the " destiny " was a " brilliant " one, worthy one so 
 charming, so admired. Ellen silenced the raptures of her friend by 
 giving a brief sketch of the course of events which led to the forth- 
 coming result, and Madame had the satisfaction of knowing that the 
 match, though not brilliant, was, at least, romantic — the next best 
 thing to the notions of a French woman. 
 
 " And now, my love," said Madame, " you need not be afraid of your 
 husband being put into theBastile, and yourself being run away with; 
 that wicked marshal — he is dead." 
 
 " Heaven forgive him his sins ! " said Ellen, with unaffected piety. 
 
 " Amen, my love. France has lost her greatest general, and decorum 
 her greatest enemy ; for, it must be confessed, his vices were fully 
 equal to his military glory. Nevertheless, France may well mourn 
 the loss of the gallant Count de Saxe." 
 
 Ellen made enquiry after the unfortunate Prince, whose doings, 
 Madame assured her, were not much calculated to increase his popu- 
 larity in Paris ; where, after the first y^ror of his reception, as a hero 
 of romance, his frivolity and dissipation were debasing him into a 
 
408 £ s a, 
 
 person of mauvais ton. While thus the day wore away between Ellen 
 and her friend, her father and her lover were enjoying an unlooked-for 
 pleasure at the Irish College. Judge of their surprise on finding 
 Father Flaherty safe and sound after a marvellous escape out of Ire- 
 land. He had been hiding with some fishermen (the mountain retreats 
 having been desperately hunted up), and was wont to go to sea with 
 them. One night, a heavy gale drove them off the coast ; and, in the 
 morning, they descried a vessel of war under French colours. So 
 providential a means of escape was eagerly seized. The fishermen 
 made signals of distress, to attract the notice of the ship, which bore 
 down, and took the padre on board. Father Flaherty, of course, was 
 the person whose offices were sought for the next morning, and maybe 
 the good father wasn't delighted. 
 
 ** Faith, luck's on your side, Ned ; little I thought when I was 
 nursing you in Bruges, poor boy, that you'd ever see the darling girl 
 again. Oh, indeed, be thankful, night and morning, my dear child, 
 for all the blessings Providence has showered on you, in preserving 
 you through so many dangers, and giving you such an angel for a wife 
 at last ! " 
 
 Brightly dawned the marriage morning. Simply arrayed in white, 
 with no ornament but the diamond cross of Clanricarde, Ellen, leaning 
 on her friend, Madame de Jumillac, and followed by her father, ap- 
 proached the altar in the little chapel of the Irish College, where Ned, 
 with Finch for his bridesman, awaited her. Phaidrig, of course, was 
 there, and Mrs. Banks would not be absent. The ceremony was com- 
 menced by the kind-hearted Father Flaherty ; and, as Lynch gave the 
 bride away, there was an eloquent appeal in his thoughtful eye, which 
 spoke thus to Ned : — "I give you all that is dear to me in this world; be 
 as fond and gentle a protector to her as I have been;" and in the open 
 and manly countenance of Ned there beamed an assurance which set 
 the father's heart at rest. Ellen and Ned were made one ; he clasped 
 her to his heart his wedded wife, and in that blissful consciousness he felt 
 all the trials and perils of his life were a million times overpaid. The 
 priest spread his hands over them in benediction, and then all knelt 
 in prayer to ask Heaven's blessing on the married couple. While 
 others bowed their heads within their hands, the sightless orbs of 
 Phaidrig were raised to heaven, while his handsome features bore an 
 expression of profound devotion, as his lips moved silently in breath- 
 ing a heart-felt supplication to his Grod for blessings on his master's 
 daughter and the son of his darling Molly. 
 
 As the wedding party left the chapel they were surprised to see 
 Madame de elumillac's carriage waiting in the court (for they had 
 driven there in hired coaches.) " My love," she said, as she kissed 
 Ellen, " you and your husband must use my carriage while you remain 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 409 
 
 in Paris. My servants know whore to drive you to. I have pre- 
 pared a little surprise for you which I know will be pleasing ; — there, 
 ask no questions — submit to be taken where I have ordered." 
 
 Madame was obeyed ; the carriage drove rapidly away and left the 
 city some miles behind. For a while Ellen did not know whither 
 they were going ; but some points in a pretty little road into which 
 they turned at last, recalled to mind the route by which she and her 
 father had escaped from Paris two years before, and ere long the 
 pretty house of poor Adrienne peeped above the hedges, and the 
 carriage stopped at the little wicket through which the sweet smile 
 of the benevolent actress had greeted her. There was a sober plea- 
 sure in coming to this spot, and Ellen felt how charming an attention 
 her friend had bestowed in procuring for her this surprise. Some 
 delightful days were spent in this pretty, quiet spot ; and as happy 
 Ned and his sweet wife paced the smooth turf of the little parterre, 
 and paused betimes at the resting-place of Ellen's benefactress, they 
 hoped her spirit had found peace, and might then be conscious of 
 their happiness, rejoicing even in the beatitude of eternity over the 
 redeeming good of her faulty, fleeting life. 
 
 While Ned and Ellen were thus enjoying the first of their honey- 
 moon. Lynch had reported himself at the War Office, and became 
 again attached to the Irish Brigade, but not on active duty. In 
 consideration of his services and increasing years, he was appointed 
 to a post which made Paris his head-quarters ; and the piper had the 
 satisfaction of fulfilling his desire to be " near the masther," consis- 
 tently with his interest, as he, and his wife, (for he married the 
 comely widow,) set up a cabaret in one of the fauxbourgs, under the 
 sign of " The Blackbird," and it became the resort of " the boys of 
 the brigade," and every Irishman who happened to be in Paris ,• and 
 Phaidrig and his rib did right well. 
 
 But it was requisite that Ned should hasten to Spain, and Lynch 
 determined to bear the young couple company as far south as Bor- 
 deaux. Finch, too, started with them ; and, as they went over pre- 
 cisely the same ground that Ellen and her father travelled in their 
 flight from Paris, they could not help remarking under what different 
 feelings they prosecuted their journey now. 
 
 On approaching JBlois, a remarkable incident occurred. The report 
 of artillery firing salutes betokened the celebration of some cere- 
 mony ; and on reaching the town they heard the funeral of Marshal 
 Saxe was approaching. He whose presence they so dreaded at that 
 very spot two years ago was now no more; — he sought them living — 
 they met him dead. 
 
 He had lain in state at the Chateau de Chambord, with all 
 honours, during which time guard was mounted with as much regu- 
 
410 £ s, d. 
 
 larity as though he lived. But the stands of arms which adorned 
 his halls were broken, and his officers put on mourning. Salvos of 
 artillery were fired every half-hour, and when the time arrived to 
 remove his body to the place of sepulture, it was done by order of 
 the king, with all the pomp that funeral rites could embody. 
 
 This was contrary to Saxe's own order. His death was worthy 
 of a better spent life, and his dying words were indicative of a noble 
 spirit. " Let my funeral be private," he said ; " place my body in 
 quick lime, that nothing may remain of me in this world but my 
 memory amongst my friends. " 
 
 The procession had already entered the town, whose streets and 
 windows were thronged with sorrowing spectators ; the plaintive wail 
 of the music, the dull roll of the muffled drum, the drooping banners, 
 the trailing pikes of his own regiment of Hulans, who guarded his 
 bier, his favourite war-horse, with empty saddle, following, all tended 
 to impress the mind with sadness. Even Lynch, in that hour, forgot 
 his private wrong ; the feelings of the soldier prevailed, and as the 
 plumed hearse passed by, he lifted his hat respectfully from his head 
 in honour of the gallant chief who had so often led him to victory. 
 
 When the procession had cleared the town, our travellers proceeded 
 on their journey, and Lynch, at Bordeaux, took a tender adieu of Ellen, 
 who promised to visit him at Paris in the following spring. Ned and his 
 wife, in all the glow of honey-moon happiness, passed the Pyrennees, 
 whose beauties enchanted them, and entered Spain. Finch bore them 
 company all the way, for, as luck would have it, his mission led him 
 to the very place where old Don Jerome resided. They reached the 
 end of their journey in safety, and Ned's uncle was rejoiced to see 
 him, and welcomed, with open arms, his lovely wife, to whose gentle 
 care he owed many an after comfort. — The old Don Jerome was now 
 very rich, for another ship of his had reached Spain, and he was 
 enabled to have a very handsome house and establishment. It was 
 one of those heavy portalled, small-windowed houses peculiar to the 
 country, with projecting shadow-casting roof, and a long, stretching, 
 open, arcade-like gallery, where one might walk at noon protected 
 from the heat. This connected the dwelling with a sort of airy 
 summer-house, which stood in the garden, and commanded a view of 
 the sea; and often in after-times Ned and Ellen could watch, from its 
 height, a certain little boy who somehow or other had liberty to play 
 about the place, and who very often made an umbrella of Don 
 Jerome's somhrerOj to the old man's great delight, and it must be con- 
 fessed, Ned and Nelly used to enjoy the infantine capers of this tiny 
 personage ; the little fellow, when he could prattle, said, " he would 
 like another little child to play with him," and his indulgent parents 
 contrived to gratify the affectionate wish. 
 
^^^w^' 
 
 S i. 
 
 /^^'y^.^^ym:/y^!?^i^^^^^ yUyi/€^:(>\/^7.yJ^u 
 
 -.o 1V^.., lu/iz 
 
TREASURE TROVE. 411 
 
 Finch executed his trust like a man of honour; and as the widow of 
 the shipwrecked Captain had a very pretty daughter, Finch was re- 
 warded with her hand and heart, and a handsome dowry ; and, finally, 
 inherited all the treasures he had preserved to the family of his friend. 
 
 And now what else is to be said ? — Oh — poor old Denis Corkery, 
 I almost forgot him. He could never be prevailed upon to leave 
 Ireland. He said he would die as he had lived amongst his old friends 
 in Galway — and so he did. And now what more ? — Why, that a 
 great many more little people were running about Ned's garden, and 
 that he and the exquisite Nelly lived long and prosperously, a blessing 
 to each other, and beloved by all who knew them. That visits to 
 Paris were occasionally made, and that the faithful Phaidrig often had 
 the pleasure of dandling in his arms the children of his "darling Miss 
 Nelly." 
 
 I cannot lay down my pen without giving thanks for the kind 
 encouragement of my periodical works for two years, nor abstain from 
 expressing the pleasure I have felt in my monthly intercourse with an 
 indulgent public. But pleasure may be too dearly purchased, and I 
 find myself unequal to 'support the excessive fatigue of such unceas- 
 ing labour along with my professional engagements. Those well used 
 to literary occupation have complained of the toil of writing a periodi- 
 cal as large as mine, but I have had, in addition to the literary labour, 
 that of etching the illustrations, attending at the same time to minia- 
 ture-painting during the day, and frequently song-writing at night. 
 
 This would be an overtax on any constitution for a third year, and 
 I therefore, with thanks for past favors, beg to take my leave of 
 periodical literature for the present. 
 
 SAMUEL LOVER. 
 
 CLAY, PniNTER, BREAD STREET HILL. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 To face page 
 
 The Old House in Galway 20 
 
 For Love and Money ^, 28 
 
 The Baton de Marechal 46 
 
 Bruges 63 
 
 Madame Ghabblekvamnie's Comparison 73 
 
 Boot Jack and Boot Jenny 86 
 
 The Sailor Aground 101 
 
 The Marshal's Sick Bed 124 
 
 The Marshal's Retreat 144 
 
 The Discovery 160 
 
 Repentance and Forgiveness 162 
 
 The Bastile 174 
 
 Helping a Friend „. 209 
 
 The Alarmist and the Viceroy 215 
 
 The White Rose 239 
 
 The Signal 249 
 
 Reckoning with the Host 271 
 
 Death of Adrienne 280 
 
 The Exchange 298 
 
 The Apparition ! 314 
 
 A little too late 332 
 
 Phaidrig doing a bit of Orpheus 348 
 
 The Pearl of the Hills 366 
 
 The Chase on the Shannon 372 
 
 The Piper paying himself 404 
 
 Where Ned and Nelly lived in Spain 410 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 6, line 14, /or " elpase," read " elapse." 
 Page 24, line 7, for " Corkery," read "aCorkery." 
 Page 40, line 8, for " Nellenski," read " Nel- 
 
 linsky." 
 Page 40, line 1 4 from bottom, for "was," read 
 
 "were." 
 Page 55, line 1 of Song, fur " 'Twas," read 
 
 " 'Twas a." 
 Page 191, line 1, stanza 3, for "drops," read 
 
 " droops." 
 
 Page 214, line 1 in notes, for " Pat Gordon's." 
 
 read " Rev. James Gordon's." 
 Page 233, line 8, stanza 2, for "here," read 
 
 "her." 
 Page 237, line 15, for "fifteenth," read " fifteen." 
 Page 352, line 12 from bottom, for "hunter," 
 
 read hunters." 
 Page 352, line 2 from bottom, for " ambush," 
 
 read " ambuscade." 
 

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