Jan. 20, 1866.J

bent over her. The old Ulster woman's heart was shaken by the fellow-feeling of misfortune, and overcome by the self-sacrifice of the girl.

"I know all about it, Mistress Charlotte, and can make allowance for the pangs of a poor young appetite. Well-a-day, young appetites should not be hard tried. Sit up, mavourneen, and eat this cake; for neither Jonas nor I will taste it until you will." Charlotte broke bread with mother and son; and the old woman, under the spell of her bread and salt, seeking to feed her rival, forgot to be jealous of that rival's vanished youth and beauty.

CHAPTER IV.

THE BURSTING OF THE BOOM.

A FEW more pretences of breakfasts and suppers which the Murrays and the O'Kanes ate together, and there came the last of all, on the evening of the 30th of July. The united families, Whig and Tory, were still at table, when a rush as if of hurrying footsteps was heard in the street; and Jonas, thinking the end was come, felt for his sword, and rose and leant in his turn out of the high window, to hear of the passers-by-where the enemy had begun their attack, or where they had made a breach, and were already pouring into the town. He had his answer, drew in his head, and looked in a mute, stunned way into the faces beside him. His fair complexion was long since burnt black, and his skin was like parchment on his bones under his bleached hair; but the little family could see that every drop of blood had quitted his face for his heart, leaving him sallow as a Spaniard or an Italian, while the sweat drops burst forth at every pore. Was death so hard to the 'prentice who had dared it so often and in so many ways, or was he thinking of the women behind him,- the helpless, hapless women given over to the brutality of the soldiers, not likely to stop and ask who had been friend or foe, who was come of Orangemen or Irishmen?

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They say," Jonas muttered, at last, with dry, quivering lips, taking a step to the door, and fumbling for his cap while he spoke, "there are sails in the bay, and I must go to the shore to see the deliverance of God, if so be he is to deliver us."

cover the merchantmen, and the Mountjoy drove on the boom with such force that the great weir split apart with the report of a park of artillery, and, crashing down, churned the water into a yellow sea of foam. But so great was the shock, that the Mountjoy bounded back from the encounter, and, shivering in every plank, struck and settled in the mud in front of the Irish batteries.

The Irish gave a mad yell, and rushed forward to board the stranded ship, but were checked and thrown into disorder by the steady, galling fire of the frigate.

Macaulay says, "When the Mountjoy grounded, and when the shout of triumph rose from the Irish on both sides of the river, the hearts of the besieged died within them. One who endured the unutterable anguish of that moment has told us that they looked fearfully vid in each other's eyes.”

And Charlotte O'Kane's eyes were opened, as when one recovers from a trance. She gazed eagerly round on the haggard, convulsed faces, and up into Jonas Murray's face as he ground his teeth and gnawed his lips in the horrible suspense. She looked across at her old party, the well-fed, well-clad, roistering bands who had held the town at bay these many months, though they had done no more, and her old, fine, light, vain, boastful partners seemed to recede far away, like the pearly dawn in the gold and purple sunset; while the broken-hearted men and women closing their ranks on the rough highway of the quay were her true brothers and sisters.

"Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. ́ Where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried."

The kinship which had been struggling into birth all these miserable months sprang in a moment into full vigor. She clasped Jonas's arm.

"They will succeed yet, Jonas!" She begged for his assurance with sobbing breath. "They cannot fail. They have come to save us, and we will be saved."

He did not show that he paid heed to her appeal, as men hardly regard women's hysterical affections at such moments, unless by taking her hands and stroking them in half-unconscious soothing. He understood all the trembling possibilities of the trial, and was engrossed by them while they lasted.

Then the second merchantman tried for the gap which its consort had made, and took it by the turning of a straw, leaping within the broken barrier, and the tide at the same time answering in swelling haste to the requirements of its brave masters, breasted up the Mountjoy till she too went floating through the havoc into port, but not safe from foes, or within reach of friends, till the tide bore her, half an hour later, alongside the quay.

"Let me go with you, Jonas, and see the end," besought Charlotte; and he took her under his arm. Down on the quay, on that second last night of July, there was such a spectacle as has been rarely witnessed on this old earth, with all its jeopardies and rescues. Coming up the river, riding with the wind, though the tide was low, as little birds had told the defenders of Derry weeks before, were three English ships, a frigate and two merchantmen, -the Mountjoy, a Derry ship with a Derry captain, and the Phoenix. Before them was the Derry was saved! And with the first of the six boom barring the entrance of the harbor, and thousand bushels of meal and casks of beef and great pointed at them, and playing on them already, tear- cheeses cast on the quay, amidst the deep bass of ing their rigging, were the cannon of the besiegers' thanks, and the shrill treble of praise, and the joy batteries, answered by the guns of the frigate. For peals of the cathedral bells, the noblest music spectators of the daring adventure there was a host Derry had ever heard, Jonas Murray turned and of blackened skeleton men and white ghosts of wo-kissed Charlotte O'Kane, and Charlotte hung weepmen crowding down from the streets to the har- ing on his shoulder. bor, while the banks of the Foyle were lined with Tyrconnel's swaggering soldiers, standing by their pitched tents, floating standards, horses, and wag

ons.

Amidst cheers and groans, prayers and curses, and the imminent risk of running aground, the forlorn hope held on gallantly till the frigate ceased to

After Jonas had worked as hard as any man at the raising of the shelter to protect the willing sailors landing the mighty store of provisions; after he had got his ample rations, and sent them home before him, and shaken hands and congratulated every half-crazy man and woman on each side of him, he joined Charlotte O'Kane, faithfully waiting for him,

and the two went proudly back to the Ferry Gate, | the birds went to and fro over sea and land at his reckless of the shot poured furiously for twelve hours bidding, and that they were doing his service when longer by the balked besiegers on the town, ere they attended to the wants of "the least of these." they raised the siege, and marched away, bag and We read of winters so severe, even within the baggage, with the next rising sun, to Strabane. last century, that nearly all the small birds perished. There were very few robins, wrens, linnets, or larks seen the following spring, and it was the end of summer before any young birds appeared. During those hard winters thousands of birds were picked up frozen to death, for all the rivers were ice-bound, and it was so cold that the oil was frozen in the street-lamps, and they could not be lighted, so that the towns were left in darkness. Freezing showers often fell during those hard old winters, coating everything they touched with clear bright ice, even the plumage of the birds; while the crimson hollyberries showed as if they were under glass, and the moss and lichen looked like jewels enclosed in crys

The couple paused to look at the streaming bonfires once again reflected across the sky like the Merry Dancers, or like the fires on Midsummer Eve, lit already by wasted, shaking hands on the heights above the town; and they stood still together when they came to a house before which there was gathered a silent, reverent, tearful crowd, in the middle of the rejoicing, and out of which, clashing strangely with the bells, came the sharp wail of mourners crying keen. Well did he deserve to be mourned who was carried stiff and stark to his home on the night of Derry's jubilee; but Derry's jubilee was his fit ovation, for the captain of the Mountjoy was shot dead as his ship burst the boom, and freed his birth-tal cases. Though we have seldom such severe winplace and home from destruction.

Jonas and Charlotte looked into each other's hollow, shining eyes. "Charlotte!" he whispered, bending down to her. "Jonas!" she responded, pressing up to him. So their troth was plighted at the festival of delivered Derry, till that death which had struck the hero in the moment of victory should part them.

BIRDS IN WINTER.

THE birds have been called God's Messengers ever since that old and holy time when the prophet Elijah, waiting for his evening meal, saw the broadwinged ravens painted black upon the golden sunset, which flooded with glory the brook Cherith, by which he knelt. King David, in his Psalms, makes mention of the birds that built about the tabernacle, and says, "The sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself where she may lay her young, even Thine altar"; and our Saxon ancestors called those birds that built about the churches God's Birds, and held them in as great reverence as those which reared their nests against the temples erected by David and Solomon. High up in the very centre of the roof may still be seen an open window in some of our old country churches, which is called the Birds' Window, and was placed there by the pious builders, so that the birds might enter and be sheltered from the severity of winter.

ters now, yet rarely does one pass without a frost lasting a week or two, and causing the ground to be as hard as stone. How do the small birds live during these severe frosts, especially such as do not approach our homes in quest of food? It is easy to show that, even if the weather be so severe as to freeze the very life out of them, food can be found in abundance, and that for want of food alone they never perish.

There are millions of leaves under our broad old hawthorn hedges amid which insects are to be found in every stage of existence, and these the frost rarely reaches. In the woods, beneath the close underwood overtopped by tall trees, it is the same; and if you force a way through these close-woven barriers in winter and examine the leaves that lie so thickly at your feet, you will see where the birds have been rummaging for food. You can tell at a glance where the woodcock has been feeding, through his neat way of turning over the leaves, as he places one on his right and another on his left all the way he goes, never varying, and so makes himself quite an ornamental walk through his feeding-ground. There are loads of berries on our privet and holly hedges, of heps on our hawthorns and wild roses, besides a vast number of berry-bearing shrubs, which would make quite a catalogue of names. Under the gorse-bushes, that grow everywhere, are bushels of dry brown spines, which not only harbor insects, but afford warm shelter to the birds, and are much frequented by our finches and linnets throughout the winter. Nor would a frost that locked up our navigable rivers penetrate very deep into these sheltered places, where the dry leaves lie layer above layer and never seem cold to the touch.

The swallow-scallop cut in the ornamental woodwork under the pinnacled gables may still be seen in a few of those old timbered tenements which our forefathers built for posterity. Those who sat at the long heavy window, hooded by the quaint scrollwork that threw a cool shadow on the casement, could see There are also myriads. of insect-eggs glued, on the swallows come in and go out through the open- tree, bush, or hedge, to foliage that never falls, and ings, and watch them feeding their young or sitting these the birds find out and devour; and well would peacefully on the nests which they had built within it be if our gardeners looked a little more closely to arm's length of such as sat in the low wainscoted the few leaves which remain on the fruit-trees at the apartment looking at them. And our God-fearing end of winter, for they will be found covered with forefathers would point to the birds and tell their squares of insect eggs, all glued so close together children how the Good Shepherd, in his Sermon that it is difficult to force the point of a fine needle on the Mount, left the birds to their care, when he between the rows. Amid mosses, among withered said, "They sow not, neither do they reap nor grass, in the open hollows of no end of weeds and gather into barns; yet your Heavenly Father feed-reeds, in decayed wood, in the thatch of stacks, eth them." And, so taught, the children would not dwellings, and outhouses, insects are concealed, and send away empty the little robin when he alighted seeds are to be found which are only visible to the on the snow-covered window-sill, nor turn a deaf sharp sight of birds. We see them searching every ear to the chirp of the sparrow when he came down hole and cranny in old walls, holding on by their from the housetop which winter had whitened. claws and the pressure of their tails, and can fancy Mankind walked nearer to God when, in their un- that the light of their sharp, flashing eyes must be shaken faith and simple-heartedness, they believed as startling to the poor insects they fasten upon as

the bull's-eye of a policeman's lantern is when turned | is but little more than a mile from either London upon a concealed felon. In farm-yards, in places Bridge or Vauxhall, or any of the bridges that span where flocks and herds are foddered, amid every the Thames between the two- -we are visited by variety of foliage and herbage, the birds find food a great number of birds in winter. We let the that we know nothing of. Watch some bird busy groundsel and chickweed under the south wall run pecking, then kneel down and examine the ground to seed year after year, to tempt them, so that one closely, and all you find will be grit, sand, and loam, or both are in flower and seed from February to -to your eye nothing else is visible: what else November, unless the season is very severe. might be revealed can only be discovered through tall privet hedge is also black with berries all the the aid of a microscope. The sight of birds is mar-year round; as the old ones hang on the sprays until vellous. We have seen them drop down like a stone the new ones are nearly ripe. Wrens, robins, finches, upon an insect from such a height as in our eye titmice, and even the wagtail, that comes picking would have rendered it as indistinct as a grain of and strutting round the fountain, are among the sand on a gravel-walk. chief of our winter visitors, for the sparrows we have with us always.

feet. Sometimes Blondin brings in a poor little, | never approaches near our towns or villages at any palpitating bird, and looks up at us as if he expect- other season of the year; and, though he weighs but ed to be stroked for so savage an outrage; then we eighty grains, and his body is little very larger than have a dear little maiden who takes it away from some of our big humble-bees, he remains with us all him, and gives him a "good talking to," and threat- the year round, even if the winter be cold enough to ens that he shall have no supper. But somehow, kill him, as if he preferred laying down his little by rubbing against her, purring, and climbing up bones in his native land to carrying them over the her back to sit on her shoulder, he manages to get sea, as so many of our larger birds do. Linnets, which into favor again; and when we see him lying coiled are such favorite cage-prisoners, never leave us, up on her knee just before bed-time, we know that though they shift their quarters to every point of the he is forgiven, and has had his supper. island in winter, the young birds being generally together and the old ones keeping in flocks. In winter we have chaffinches in our garden, so clean, that when they rise suddenly the pure white of their feathers is almost as startling as a flash of lightning. There is a neatness about their plumage which seems, compared with the dirty sparrows, as if they prided themselves in keeping their feathers clean, and were always fit to be seen at any time. We frequently startle them from the celery trenches, where the earth is oftentimes disturbed at mid-winter. Some say the females migrate, while the males remain behind; but this has not been proved; and it is common among the finches for the sexes to divide in winter and fly in separate flocks, shifting about from one part of our island to another; and this cannot be called migration as the meaning is understood by naturalists.

For the wagtail there is always something to be found about the fountain under the pump, as the ice is broken every morning, for the birds to drink, and the water falls over the brim when it is full, making the ground moist; and there the black winter gnats indulge in their airy dance if there be only a gleam of sunshine that lasts for a few minutes. He goes striding about, as if he timed his footsteps to the wagging of his beautiful long tail; for he never hops as if his legs were tied together, as many birds do, but puts his "best foot foremost," like the gentlemanly bird he is, though his color is like that of the mischief-loving magpie, who also remains with us all the year round. We have a great number of starlings at times about the ground, and very pretty they look with their beautifully-marked plumage; and there is something very peculiar in that long, clear whistle, which is heard every minute or so while they remain, and seems to be sounded as the signal of danger and caution.

As for sparrows, like mice, they follow man whereever he goes. They are our greatest plague. They eat up all the early seeds we sow in February; then begin with the peas the very instant they pop out of the ground. We catch them thieving in winter; and when we drive them off the seed-beds, they fly no farther than one of the walls, where they perch all of a row, and are down again and busy plundering before we pass under the elder-bower. They are born thieves; and we do believe often fight in winter only to keep themselves warm. Nor do they mind taking possession of one another's nests. When the rightful occupier returns, the sparrow in possession pokes out his head from under the eaves and pecks at him; if that does not drive him away the intruder turns out, and then they have to fight for it; and a pretty row they make while they fight, no doubt calling one another all the bad names they can lay their tongues to." Sometimes one sparrow gives another such a thrashing that we do not see the beaten one for a day or two, and have no doubt that he is confined to his bed under the eaves. The little wrens sit in the hedges, huddled up like balls of feathers on a cold day; and, but for their tiny tails sticking out, would seem quite round. Then there is ever heard that low, pleasing note, as if they were talking to themselves while perking their heads aside, and stopping every now and then for a moment or two, as if considering whether they have hunted the spray well from which they have just stepped down, or left anything on it that is worth while going back again for.

The golden-crested wren we have not seen, though he visits the gardens about Camberwell and Dulwich in winter. He is the very smallest of all our British birds, and a perfect beauty he is, too, with his orange-colored crest blowing all about his head on a windy day, like the long feathers in a lady's bonnet. He likes to go hopping and pecking about in our shrubberies among the evergreens in winter, but

The blackbird, thrush, and magpie never leave us, and may frequently be seen at times somewhere near to our habitations in winter. Like the raven and rook, they build very early, often long before there are any signs of the return of spring about the fields and hedgerows. It is difficult to distinguish the male blackbird from the female until the second year, when the color of his beak changes to that rich orange hue which caused our old poets to give him the name of Golden-bill. The blackbird and the thrush are the "ouzel-cock, merle, and mavis" of our old ballad poetry. Very often, if the winter be mild, they may be heard singing at the beginning of February. There are also records in our bird-calendars of their songs having been heard at the close of January. To catch the lowest and sweetest notes of the blackbird the listeners ought to be concealed about a hundred feet from where the dusky singer is stationed, and then he will confess that the nightingale has nothing so delicious as that "dying strain," nor any other bird, we believe, except the little blackcap.

Many a shed, stable, and outhouse has borne an evil name through the blackbird darting out suddenly in winter when disturbed while searching for food, and almost touching the intruder with his broad dusky wings as he swept past with a rush that was quite startling, even to a man of strong nerves. Many a servant-maid sent into the shed on soine errand for wood, or to search for hens' eggs. on a dark winter day has uttered a shrill scream like the sound of a trumpet, and rushed back into the farm-house pale with fear, believing that she had seen something evil when the blackbird dashed by her. Naturally he is fond of thickets and solitary places, loving to build in dark fir plantations, and it is rare to see more than two or three blackbirds together, for they never fly in flocks like tbrushes.

Many a nest does the nakedness of winter reveal, in spots where we searched for them in vain during the bird-nesting season, standing out now so promi nently in the bare bushes and hedges as to make us wonder that they could ever escape our eyes. But spring and summer had then drawn closely their green curtains over what are now the