"The fairies!" shouted Jack; "the fairies!"

"I am afraid,” muttered the Lord of Ballybegmullinahone, "the last glass you took was too little watered; but, no matter-come in and cool yourself over a tumbler of punch."

He came in and sat down again at table. In great spirits he told his story:-how he had seen thousands and tens of thousands of fairies, dancing about the old oak of Ballinhassig; he described their beautiful dresses of shining silver; their flat-crowned hats, glittering in the moonbeams; and the princely stature and demeanour of the central figure. He added, that he heard them singing, and playing the most enchanting music; but this was merely imagination. The young men laughed, but Jack kept his ground. Suppose," said one of the lads, we join company with you on the road, and ride along to the place where you saw that fine company of fairies ?”

"Done!" cried Jack; " but I will not promise that you will find them there, for I saw them scudding up in the sky like a flight of bees, and heard their wings whizzing through the air." This, you know, was a bounce, for Jack had heard no such thing.

Off rode the three, and came to the demesne of Oakwood. They arrived at the wall flanking the field where stood the great oak; and the moon, by this time, having again emerged from the clouds, shone bright as when Jack had passed. "Look there," he cried exultingly; for the same spectacle again caught his eyes, and he pointed to it with his horsewhip; "look, and deny if you

can."

"Why," said one of the lads, pausing, “true it is that we do see a company of white creatures; but were they fairies ten times over, I shall go among them;" and he dismounted to climb over the wall.

"Ah, Tom! Tom!" cried Jack, stop, man, stop! what are you doing?. The fairies-the good people I mean-hate to be meddled with. You will be pinched or

blinded; or your horse will cast its shoe; or-look! a wilful man will have his way. Oh! oh! he is almost at the oak-God help him! for he is past the help of man."

By this time Tom was under the tree, and burst out laughing. "Jack," said he, "keep your prayers to yourself. Your fairies are not bad at all. Believe me, they will make tolerably good catsup."

Catsup!" said Jack, who, when he found that the two lads (for the second had followed his brother) were both laughing in the middle of the fairies, had dismounted and advanced slowly-" What do you mean by catsup?" Nothing," replied Tom, "but that they are mushrooms, (as indeed they were,) and your Oberon is merely this overgrown puff-ball."

Poor Mulligan gave a long whistle of amazement, staggered back to his horse without saying a word, and rode home in a hard gallop, never looking behind him. Many a long day was it before he ventured to face the laughers at Ballybegmullinahone; and to the day of his death the people of the parish, ay, and five parishes round, called him nothing but Musharoon Jack, such being their pronunciation of mushroom.

ww

THE HEIRESS'S COMPLAINT.

Why tell me with officious zeal,

That I am young, and rich, and fair,

And wonder how my soul can feel

The pangs of sorrow and of care?

Why dost thou count the golden store,

The sparkling jewels that are mine,

And name the suitors o'er and o'er,

Who breathe their incense at my shrine?

Know that I scorn the sordid train

Whose loveless vows are bought and sold;
Know that the heart I sigh to gain,
Despises, spurns my worthless gold.

I love-I dare not breathe his name-
The son of genius and of mind;
He climbs the steepy path of fame,
Content to leave the crowd behind.

And while, in halls illumined bright,
I hear the same false flatteries o'er,
He patient wastes the midnight light
In studious toil, in learned lore.
Seldom he seeks the giddy throng,

And then he stands retired, apart,
And views the dance, and hears the song,
With listless look and joyless heart.
He turns from Love's all-speaking eye;
His mind to fame, to science clings,
Throned in a world of visions high,
Of deep and vast imaginings.

My vaunted wealth, my flattered face,
The praise of coxcombs may employ;
But he regards that dross as base,
He holds that beauty as a toy.

Yet must I still reluctant wear

These flashing gems, these robes of state,

And nightly must submit to share

The paltry vanities I hate.

Oh! never shall the world deride

My passion with unfeeling jest,

While smiles of more than Spartan pride
Can hide the tortures of my breast.
Thy tears flow fast:-Now judge if gold
Can banish anguish from its shrine,
And say if ever tale was told

A TRUE STORY.-TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.

In the autumn of 1732, Lewis Thevenet, a distinguished surgeon at Calais, in France, received a billet without signature, requesting him to repair to a public-house not far off, with such instruments as were necessary for an amputation.

Thevenet was somewhat surprised at the manner of the invitation, but concluding that it was the work of some wag, paid no regard to it. Three days after, he received a second invitation still more pressing, and containing the information, that the next day at nine o'clock a carriage would stop before his house in order to convey him. Thevenet resolved to let the affair take its course, and when, on the following day, at the striking of the clock, an elegant carriage stopped before the door, he seated himself in it, and asked the driver " to whom he was to carry him?"

The driver replied in English, "What I do not know I cannot tell." At length the carriage stopped before the designated public-house. A handsome young man of about twenty-eight years of age received the surgeon at the door, and conducted him up stairs into a large chamber, where he held the following dialogue :

Thevenet.-You have sent for me?

Englishman.-I am much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken to visit me. Here is coffee, chocolate, or wine, if you would take any thing before the operation. T.-Show me the patient, Sir; I must first ascertain whether the injury is such as to render an amputation necessary.

E-It is necessary. Mr. Thevenet, seat yourself; I have perfect confidence in you-listen to me. Here is a purse of one hundred guineas; this is the pay you will receive for the operation. If done successfully, it is yours. Should you refuse to comply with my wishes, see, here is a loaded pistol. You are in my power; I will shoot you. T.-Sir, I am not afraid of your pistols. But what is your particular desire? tell me without preamble.

E. You must cut off my right leg.

T.-With all my heart; and, if

you please, your head too. But the leg is sound. You sprang up stairs just now with the agility of a dancing-master. What ails your leg?

E-Nothing. I only want it off.
T.-Sir, you are a fool.

E. Why does that trouble you, Thevenet?
T.—What sin has the leg committed?

E.-None; but are you ready to take it off?

T.-Sir, I do not know. Bring me evidence that you are of a sound mind.

E. Will you comply with my request?

T.—Yes, Sir, so soon as you give me sufficient reasons for such mutilation of yourself.

E.-I cannot tell you the truth perhaps for some years; but I will lay a wager that after a certain time you shall understand that my reasons are most noble-that my happiness, my very existence, depend upon my being freed from the leg.

T.—Sir, I lay no wagers. Tell me your name, residence, family, and occupation.

E. You shall know all that hereafter. Do you take me for an honourable man?

T.-I cannot. A man of honour does not threaten his physician with pistols. I have duties towards you as a stranger. I will not mutilate you. If you wish to be the murderer of a guiltless father of a family, then shoot. E. Well, Mr. Thevenet, I will will force you to take off my leg.

not shoot you; but I

That which you will

not do for the love of money, nor the fear of a bullet, you shall do for compassion.

T.-And how so?

E.-I will break my leg by discharging my pistols, and here before your eyes.

The Englishman seated himself, and placed the mouth of the pistol close to his knee. Thevenet was on the point of springing to prevent him, but he replied," Stir not, or I fire. Now," says he, " will you increase and lengthen out my pains for nothing?"

"You are a fool," says Thevenet, "but it shall be done; I will take off the unfortunate leg." The Englishman