zales. Sun-ris 7m aft 5 - sets 54

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16 Thurs The Martyrs of

Saragossa,
Holy Thursday.
High Water.
4m aft Im. inor.

told his death on Palm Sunday, and expired in the arms of the famous Bishop of Tuy, A. D. 1246. This saint is commonly known as St. Elm, and those electrical phenomena called St. Elm's fires, derive from him their name. He is styled the patron of Mariners.

16 St Optatus, with seventeen other holy men, were martyred by order of the cruel governor Dacian, at Saragossa on this day, during the tierce persecution of Dioclesian in 304.

Holy Thursday or Maunday Thursday. The church on this festival celebrates the last supper of our Saviour, with the institution of the Holy Sacrament of Communion. On this day the custom of giving alms to the poor is still kept at many churches; at St. James's it is customary to feast as many men and women as the King is years old, for a full account of the ceremony, see page 189 of our 1st vol.

1039-Died on this day at Oxford, Harold, King of England, leaving neither wife or issue, he was the eldest son of Caunte the Dane, and was buried at Winchester.

17 To-day the Church commemorates the sufferings of Christ on the Cross by a solemn service. The kings of England had a custom of hallowing rings with much ceremony on Good Friday, the wearers of which would not be afflicted with the falling sickness. The Cross and Church of St. Peter's, at Rome, is brilliantly illuminated on Holy Friday, and has a striking effect. It was on this day principally that the branch of the Spanish Dominican Friars, called Flagellants, used to punish them. selves with voluntary scourges.

18 Apollonius, who was a senator of Rome, was pub. licly accused by one of his slaves of Christianity. He was referred to the judgment of the Senate to account for his faith; where, persisting in his religious profession, he was condemned to death A.D. 186.

On Easter Eve all the farmers round Florence collect in the Cathedral, to watch the motions of an artificial dove; which, just as the priests begin Gloria in Excelsis, bursts away from the choir, glides along the nave on a rope, sets fire to a combustible car in the street, and then flies back to its post, The farmers and peasantry express a deep interest in its flight, for all their hopes of a future harvest depend on its safe return to the altar.

Ellustrated Article.

NO FIRE! NO FIRE! OR, THE

IRISH MANIAC.

THE following narrative is extracted from Mr. Grattan's new work, "Traits of Travel." Our readers will perceive, by the striking sample we lay before them, that it is the performance of the same skilful hand which portrayed with so much fidelity and easy pleasantry the scenes and characters that figure to such advantage in "Highways and Byeways." The present volumes comprise about thirty Tales, which display the author's intimate acquaintance with human nature in all its workings; many of them are highly humorous, whilst others are stirring scenes of misfortune that fastens on the heart and awakens its keenest sensibilities, written in a style lively and animated, which cannot fail to delight the reader and increase the author's popularity. The Narrator of the subjoined is supposed to be an English Captain in the army, VOL. III.

R

named Hartigan, and the detail forms a portion of his adventures in various countries. He commences as follows:

" I once happened to be stationed with a small detachment in the south of Ireland, one of those romantic and wild positions which abound in that country, fit theatres for the display of every feeling that agitates mankind in its half civilized state. The district was disturbed. Nightly outrages, by wretched marauders, whom misery made desperate, kept the scanty gentry and simple peasantry in perpetual alarm, and myself and my party in constant preparation. Sudden attacks on small military posts were frequent, and even day-light was not always a security against the daring attempts of Caravats and Shanavests-the distinctive appellations of the insurgents of those days.

"The little barrack occupied by me and my detachment stood on the road side, at the entrance to the village, and was fronted by a thick wood, which stretched along the opposite hills, and came down in a mass of shadow to the very road. A narrow lane that led into its heart

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opened upon the road, some twenty yards from the barrack. This outlet was the chief point of suspicion for the wary eye of the sentries, who, day and night, paced before the door, and the frequent report of musket shots from the wood, made the recruits, of whom my little party was chiefly formed, give many a hurried glance, and take many a rapid turn, as on their hours of duty they walked close to the neighbourhood of that convenient spot for treachery and ambush.

"It was one day in October, that I was on the point of sallying out, my gun in hand, and my dog at my heel, to take my usual hour or two of sport in the wood and on its skirts, when a very sudden and heavy shower of rain forced me to pause for awhile at the door, and drove the sentry, a raw unfledged hero of about seventeen into his box. The three or four little messes, into which my detachment was formed, were just sitting down to their early dinner, and I was rather amused by the hungry impatience with which of the groups inquired inquired for their mess-woman, Mrs. Merryweather, a comely hen cockney, hatched in

one

re

Shoreditch; and the veteran dignity with which the corporal, her husband, pressed their voraciousness, assuring them she would be back with a table-cloth from its drying place on the hedge which skirted the lane lane, before the beef and potatoes could be ready.

"At the very instant of this explanation, a piercing scream from the throat of the identical Mrs. Merryweather struck upon my ear, and was followed by the terrified woman herself, flying from the lane, the drenched table-cloth held up before her like a sail to the wind, and her dripping hair floating behind. Young O'Toole, the sentry, as he heard and saw her appalling voice and form, bounded electrically out of his box, and with fixed eye and fixed bayonet, stood shaking in every joint.

"What the devil is it, for the love of Jasus, Mrs. Merryweather?" cried he, Turn out the guard, turn out the

guard!"

"Yes, yes, the devil, the devil, screamed Mrs. Merryweather, 'the devil or the vild, orrid Hirish brutes, coming to murder, burn, or wiolate us hall!' and, as the three or four men composing the guard tumbled out, hastily seizing their arms, she flung herself into the embrace of the corporal, who had rushed into the road with the whole open-mouthed de tachment, men, women, and children. Shouts now issued from the wood, and an attack seemed certain. I cocked my gun and advanced, followed by the guard. Approaching the shaking sentinel, I sternly asked him,

""What, O'Toole, are you trembling?" "Is it trembling, your honour?' replied he; then, if I am, it's trembling to be at them.".

"At this moment a figure rushed from the wood, frightful at first sight, and shocking on examination. It was that of a man, tall, gaunt, and middle aged. Fever was on his lip, and madness in his eye. His hollowed cheeks, bushy beard, and matted hair, spoke disease, neglect, and misery; and the wild glance which rolled backwards as he tottered towards me, gave evidence of maniac imbecility and exhaustion. His right hand grasped a staff, which was useless either for support or offence, while he feebly waved his arm above his head. His body was wrapped in a coarse blanket, girded round his middle by a rope of straw; his emaciated limbs were all bare, with the exception of his left arm, which was enveloped in the rude covering that formed his only shelter against wet and cold.

"While the soldiers stood steadily prepared, not merely for the approach of this apparition, but for whatever might follow its movements, the poor wretch fearlessly, or rather unconsciously, moved forward; and redoubled his pace as about half a dozen ragged village boys, who pursued him with loud shouts, emerged from the lane. Flying from their persecution to the shelter of the barrack, he implored protection, with an air so pite ously helpless, that even the fears of O'Toole and Mrs. Merryweather died away before the compassionate wonder which irresistibly seized on every bystander. Every one made way for him, and he entered the barrack: seemingly allured by the savoury fragrance of the dinners, he advanced to the inner rooms; but, as it seemed to me, in momentary consciousness of his forbidding and forlorn appearance, he shrunk back from the fire-place, and crouched low upon a little three-legged stool, in the most distant corner. He was immediately surrounded by the kind-hearted soldiers and their kinder wives, who, one and all, got over their disgust and fright, and vied with each other in attending to their miserable guest. Large portions of soup, bread,

and meat, were placed before him, and voraciously devoured, while thanks and blessings broke from him at intervals. When his hunger was satiated, I said to him,

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"Now, my poor fellow, come warm and dry yourself, -get near the fire." "Oh, no, no, groaned he in a hollow and shuddeting tone, no fire, ho fire!' and starting up from his sitting posture, he rushed to another corner of the room, into which he huddled himself, putting his face close to the wall, and shivering in the violent impulse of some horrible recollection.

"This emotion excited, in about equal ratios, the pity of the men, and the terror of the women, thus stamping its alliance with the first and finest elements of that deep-tragic feeling from which it sprung. Perceiving that the coarse sympathy of the group around him only worried the poor sufferer, I strove with a little more address to soothe his irritation. My efforts succeeded, for after a few minutes, he looked gratefully up, and exclaimed in a tone of deep and savage pathos,

""God bless you, and keep you and your's from fire and flame! Look here!" continued he, abruptly, 'look here, where it scorched and withered me; and with gesture and action suiting the words, he drew from beneath his blanket the shrunken and excoriated remnant of his once sinewy arm. The marks of the fierce element were fresh on it-it was scathed and scorched from the shoulder to the wrist-a blasted branch of the decaying stem it hung to.

"Good God! how did this happen, poor creature?" burst from a dozen voices.

"Whisht, whisht, and I'll tell you, hoarsely whispered the maniac, his finger to his lips; but say nothing-don't waken them-Norah and the childer are sleeping still-whisht! It was-let me see how many weeks? seven-or eight or nine-no matter, no matter-but the flax was taken out of the bog-holes, all dry and ready for scutching the whole roof of the cabin was lined with it-it was like tinder-one spark was enough to set it blazing, and I stuck a whole rushlight against the wall! But I must tell you that Norah had just been broughtto-bed- the child was at her breastGod help me! I forget how many days ould it was but it was at her breast, in the bed wid her in the little closet-and two more, Biddy and Patrick, were beside her-all, all together, I stuck the rush against the wall while I was stripping myself-the wind blew through the wisp of straw in the window-the rush blazed