trict to which they belonged, not to allow their rivals to bear away the victory. The men, thus beholding themselves the common gaze and spectacle of all, and roused by the immediate emulation, made astonishing efforts. The speed of the boats increased, and water flew in sparkling fragments before them, and long beaded furrows of dancing bubbles and foam arose behind. The oars caught the sunbeams for a moment, and instantly plunged into the lake again. A single will seemed to govern each crew; they bent forward, rose and sunk on their seats, as if they were but one individual, while, at each powerful stroke, the good boat sprung like a race-horse to the whip. No skill was left unemployed— even the helmsman, by a forward motion of the body at each successive impulse, sought to increase the momentum of his vessel. Perfect silence now succeeded to the previous tumult. The most breathless expectation held the spectators, and an anxiety (if that could be possible) as great as that of the rowers themselves. They were now fast nearing the stag; the strokes became shorter and more vigorous, the keel almost rose out of the water at each bound; but the three prows were still abreast, or merely see-sawing, and no one could say which would win the stag. As the strength, however, of the crews seemed equal, it was probable that the superior skill of the helmsman would decide the victory. But the safety of the noble animal, the object of the contest, was plainly in considerable danger, as the boats (the two outer now slightly bending their course) bore down direct upon him, as to a common centre. The middle boat soon became sensible of the advantageous position it occupied, for its course required no change, and there was scarcely a possibility of its missing the game; while the truth began to flash on the other two, that their course must be (no matter how little) longer than that of the middle boat, and that they might wholly overshoot the stag, unless they could gain something on their rival. Nor was the situation of the latter without its counterbalancing difficulties. The increased and almost desperate exertions of the two outer boats threatened, by the convergence of their course, to leave no room for the play of its oars, while the absolute necessity of not injuring the stag (Mr. O'Connell being quite despotic on that point) seemed to demand slackened exertions, when the most vigorous were necessary for success. The helmsman of this boat was an old, hard-featured man. During the whole race, he showed no sign of emotion, nor did one anxious look at his rivals betray a fear, or damp the courage of his men. He sat quite composed, as if he had no interest whatever in the race; but the quick, steady glance with which he measured his distance from the stag, and from his antagonists, showed this was but the coolness of self-possession. On he drove, right upon the stag, until the angry wave, that foamed before his prow, rushed up the animal's side. "Mind, Dan'l," he uttered to the man at the bow, in a stern, quick tone; the other boats at the same instant were pulling headlong to cut him off from the prey-he was within two feet of the stag-all thought him mad; and a general exclamation of rage burst from the multitude at his conduct;-" the oars," said he to the crew, taking not the least notice of the shout; and at the word, an instant turn of the helm, which the boat in her extreme velocity obeyed like a child, sent him with shipped oars between the stag's muzzle and his right-hand antagonist; but as he passed, Daniel, who was standing ready in the bow, jumped upon the animal's back, and secured the victory, amidst acclamations that rent the sky. A handkerchief was then bound over the stag's eyes; he was placed (with several men attached to him) in the conquering boat, and conveyed to Mr. O'Connell. Thus ended the stag hunt. It was only manly that the animal, which afforded so much amusement, was that night restored to his native mountains. There was a public dinner to be given at Innisfallen; but as the hour fixed on was late, it seemed pleasanter to stay the rage of our stomachs with a small dejeuné in the intermediate time. Accordingly, we turned into a calm, cool, little bay, just beyond the point of Glenná, and shaded, by an arbutus-covered island, from the western sun. The place we chose you'll grant to be beautiful. A broad ledge of rock projected almost horizontally over the lake. One half was covered with thin moss; over the other half rushed, in a sheet of silver, a furious little stream, called Screachogue, i. e. "The Brawler," and fell into the lake with innumerable tinklings. Our boat lay on deep water, with her head against the rock, and showed, where her shadow fell, a sparkling bottom of fine sand. A red romantic-looking path led up the mountains, through young oaks, hazels, and woodbines. The spirit of adventure at once seized us. Leaving the boatmen to arrange the dinner, and seats for it, viz., a large stone, or a well-folded cloak, or a gentleman's coat, perhaps, neatly moulded into a round shape; we set off. Indeed, of all places and times, I remember none better fitted for soft, low, sweet converse with a beautiful woman. The delicious softness of the evening that melted the heart into its own voluptuous languor, the perfume of the air almost oppressive by its richness; the gen.. tle lapping of the waves, the modest solicitation, as it were, of love ; the upward, tangled, beautiful path that compelled her to lean for sup port, and the huge mountain that towered above all, and flung his black and giant shadow across the waters, irresistibly soothed the soul into confidence, while they, at the same time, impressed the necessity of protection. Some, however, soon sat down quite exhausted; some stopped to look through the trees upon the lake, and I will not swear that other objects were not looked at about the same time; while shouts high above in the air from mounting spirits proclaimed their ambitious souls. It may be laid down as a maxim, or rather as two axioms, that real love passages are very short, and that lovers dine. In accordance with these profound reflections, the whole party was assembled at the dejeuné in ten minutes, and in nearly the same time the dejeuné had unaccountably disappeared. Our boat now steered for the Cascade, and next for the Brown Island, intending to surprise Innisfallen by this circuitous route; and here the magnificence of the evening arrested and amazed us. The lake is situated in an elliptical valley, lying from east to west, which is enclosed on the south side by a chain of mountains, about twenty or thirty miles in length; and on the north, by successive ranges of hills, that include every species of cultivation between them and the lake; from their own bleak bitterness, (though studded occasionally with green fields,) to the handsome villa on the banks of the latter. The mountains, at their western extremity, break into a cluster of low blue hills. Just beyond these, the broad and burning orb of the sun was now resting on the edge of the horizon, and, having wrapped them in a misty palpable glory, filled the whole valley with a vast flood of golden light, which turned every thing within it, islands, rocks, woods, and houses, to enchantment. The very windows of Coltsman's Castle, which faced the west, assumed the most gorgeous appearance; the richest colours melting successively into one another, and its whole front flickering with blood-red and purple splendours. On the north side, the country was one sheet of beauty and gladness; but conceive, on such a range of moun.. tains, the effect of this glorious evening-tide, ever changing with the distance, and ever magnificent-bathing Tomies in yellow radiance— kindling every rock on Turk-mantling the broad slopes of Mangerton in mellower light, and playing on the distant Paps with a faint and dying lustre. Of all, however, Innisfallen, which was before us, seemed the most perfect wonder. We gazed on it in astonishment. The whole undulating line of its beautiful shores-every rock, tree, and object, nay the very air about it, was touched with magic; and from the ground up to the top of the trees, it seemed filled with a flood of molten gold. I never beheld a scene at once so grand and beautiful. By degrees it faded away; the light gradually yielding to darkness, and ascending, until none but the mountain heads retained a gleam of the preceding splendour. As soon as it was fairly past, away with us to Innisfallen; and, as at "the Brawler," I had the unutterable misfortune of being seized by Miss —, (a brevet matron, but who had been long entitled to full rank,) as asthmatic as her own lap-dog, (which was now in the last stage of high feeding, the vital lamp being reduced in him, by fat, to the slenderness of a rushlight,) Fortune seemed determined to reward me by placing me at dinner next Mrs. and her husband at least four tables off. Imagine a very pretty Irish woman, with taste, talents, accomplishments,-add moreover to these a throat of dazzling whiteness, shaded by dark gauze,-eyes, to which a slight short-sightedness gave a softer charm, a voice wasted in sweet murmurs,—and you have the outline of the picture. Omit not, however, to place in the foreground of this sketch on your fancy, " a wild sweet-briary fence," such as Moore sings of; for a sort of instinct told one that, within the circle of all these agreeable qualities that Mrs. possessed, sat a haughty spirit, which it were as well not to rouse to anger or suspicion. UP, MEN OF ENGLAND! [The following animated burst of patriotism and poetry, the effusion of one of Bri tain's host of Schills and Korners, was contemporary with that dark hour of suspense which followed the infatuated vote of the House of Peers against the Reform Bill, and when there were strong surmises that the King had forfeited his popular character of a Reformer. This happily was a mistake. The firm attitude taken by the people, peacefully over-mastered the crisis: the poem remains a warning, which was meant as a call; and a glowing evidence of that noble and free spirit, open to conciliation, but which, unwisely irritated by contemptuous denial of justice, still "Bides its time."] YE MEN OF ENGLAND, will ye see The morn of freedom passing by, Nor strike your blow for liberty? Will ye-nor raise your shout on high? Will only ye thus idly stand, While Europe struggles for her right? Arise, arise, with heart and hand, UP, MEN OF ENGLAND, TO THE FIGHT! By Heaven! less noble cheeks are pale, That England's sons should crouch and kneel, And faintly sue with coward wail, Where meaner hands have grasp'd the steel. Listen! your despot lordlings say, To bear so base a scorn so long! When HAMPDEN brav'd the Stuart's wrong. Of glory, and of conquer'd right, UP, MEN OF ENGLAND, TO THE FIGHT! On the broad path of truth and right. UP, MEN OF ENGLAND, TO THE FIGHT! When freedom flashes on his sword; She bids ye triumph for your right. What fear ye? No barbarian Czar Can pour his Cossacks on your land: The triumph of your brother-band. Sole judges of your native right,— UP, MEN OF ENGLAND, TO THE FIGHT! By Liberty's eternal name, Once England's proudest glory, arm! VOL. III.NO. XIV. Մ Ir is a current opinion, that there are two, if not three, Mrs. Gores extant at present, informing and delighting the world with historical romances, novels of character, and tales and poetical pieces in the periodical publications. These ladies are even distinguished by differences of name. There is first the Hon. Mrs. Gore, author, we believe, of The Tuileries; next Mrs. Charles Gore, to whom of right belong Manners of the Day, the Fair of May Fair, Sketches of Fashion, &c. &c.; and there is a third Mrs. Gore, authoress of the Hungarian, and now of the Polish Tales. As we do not pretend to penetrate these mysteries, it is of the third lady alone we have to speak; or if, haply, the whole three form but one highly and singularly endowed individual, uniting qualities rarely found in connexion, the marvel only waxes the greater, and becomes more difficult to unravel. If these works, so opposite in character, are the production of the same masterly and prolific pen, we receive the fact as another proof of that versatility in the appliance of native power which is among the least equivocal of the attributes of genius,— of the existence in the writer, of that quality which permeates with equal facility the humours of Falstaff and the madness of Lear; the sparkling wit of Beatrice and Rosalind; the womanly devotedness of Desdemona, and the uncouthness of Audrey. Our ideas of the historical novel have been wound to so high a pitch by the recent demonstrations of splendour and power in Ivanhoe and Kenilworth, Peveril, and Old Mortality, that fictions of this kind have come to be ranked among the highest embodyings of creative genius. The historical novel is what the epic was; and partial success in this line of writing is become equal to triumph in courses of less difficulty. In her own peculiar walk, Mrs. Gore is without a rival. No living writer excels her in brilliant off-hand sketches of the characters and costumes of the fashionable world of London and its dependencies, from 1820 to 1833 inclusive. The Polish Tales are far more carefully elaborated, and have cost the talented writer much more thought and research. Their effect ought to correspond to the degree of pains bestowed, but we are not sure that this is the result. But if her deep or lofty characters of romance are not so truly beings of flesh and blood as are her exquisite embodyings of modern fashion and folly, they are natures of that pure and exalted kind which are far more delightful to our imaginations, and affecting to our sympathies. Their remembrance will sink into the heart, and live in the memory, when the spoiled, dissipated, selfish, and frivolous creatures which Mrs. Gore, with rare art, has shewn in giddy maze whirling before us, shall have sunk into the light cloud on which she has painted them. For the accomplishment of the present task, which appears to have been a favourite one, Mrs. Gore has evidently prepared herself by an extensive course of preliminary study. She has made herself familiar with the public annals of Poland and Northern Europe, and carefully examined contemporary memoirs and biographies, which elucidate the policy and intrigues of the Courts of St. Petersburgh and Warsaw, and the personal character of the weak-principled Stanislas, and of the * London: Saurders and Ctley. 1833. |