hen you saw this same raswere so very near, as you ou not give him chase yourame opportunity been mine, prophet, I should not have Answer was refe sorting to a les a trance, when the door yielding a securing it th ment was the rad bers preclud not fail being ded the load o of the stranger were, in some iated by this dialogue, from ion of which he learned, that ent must speedily take their the city, where it was necesould appear before the mornThis was now at hand, as the of the dawn was already breaking e sky. o soldiers still continued their the one bent on not going a step de other, who was unwilling to alone, using all his eloquence rsuade him. The dialogue had some time, conducted in rather ́, and while he that had been, all most eager for pursuit, was now in tones of a very imposing cha**suddenly lowered his voice, and nered to his companion. you, comrade, do you see this ulchre before us? Is it entirely te; is it not indeed very probable, same fellow we are in quest of, Onced himself within it? I tell you, it is a matter of prudence, that ld not leave such a place un; not to speak of duty. You are sworn to do our duty." , to the commander of the faithplied the other; but if it be a of duty to obey every empty whim 4, duty and L, must, I fear, very sOOD But come, I do not care if I strike in with you If I assist you in searchdismal looking hole here, will you ent to give up your idie chase and reed," was the reply. Assist me mrade, and on the word of a man, keep to my promise." As the stranger heard these words, he yielded to despair, and shrunk back to the further extremity of the monument; where, while a cold sweat burst from every pore, he expected, each instant, to be laid hands upon by his pursuers. But the courage of the latter did not appear to be of the most formidable description. It was plain, that neither wished for the honour of taking the lead in the search; and their resolution suffered a very evident shock, when they stood opposite the entrance of the sepulchre, and beheld the dark yawning chasm it presented. "Comrade," whispered the last spokesman; "I hold it to be unadvisable for us both to enter. Should this rascal chance to be inside, he might easily foil us in the dark; while, in the meantime, there would be no one to secure him outside. I therefore propose that you go in, while I hold guard here. Then, depend upon it, he shall not escape us." To this arrangement the other peremptorily dissented, contending that he "saw no reason why his companion had more right to the post outside than he; besides, it was but fair, that he who had proposed the present proceeding should be foremost in the risk. As for himself, he was determined not to take any more than his own proper share in the business; nor was it for the other to expect that he should." Notwithstanding all that the other could do or say, his comrade continued refractory, firmly bent on refusing the honour which had been offered him. At this moment, the sound of a bugle reached their ears. "Hark!" he exclaimed "do you not hear? Our companions will be, this instant, on the move; and so, if you will not give over your idle fancies, I must only leave you to pursue them alone. Well," he continued, observing the other unslinging his bow, "if you must wage fight with gholes and demons, it is no affair of mine. Adieu adieu comrade-I wish you a joyous victory." So saying, be departed, and sprung along the path at a much brisker pace than hus previous appearance of fatigue seemed to promise. The other made no reply; but snatching an arrow from his quiver, he ap phed it to the bow, and prepared to shout imo the aperture From the darkness in which the stranger lay, he could, with the greatest accuracy, perceive the entire of this movement. The thought of a fresh effort at escape flashed across his mind; but his resolution was gone; he felt himself bound to the spot; fear and exhaustion had paralyzed him. From the direction in which the arrow was levelled, it could scarcely fail of hitting him. And was he now, after all the perils he had endured, when his escape had almost become a certainty, to meet so miserable an end? The thought struck chill upon his heart. He crouched himself to the ground, and contracted his body into as small a compass as he could, with the hope that, by leaving himself in some measure less exposed, he might avoid the fearful fate with which he was threatened. Meanwhile, the soldier stood wavering in his determination, swayed by the superstitious fears which the last words of his comrade had excited. More than once did he draw the string, till the bow was touched by the steel heading of the arrow, and, as often, did he suffer it to relax into its previous position. Again, the distant note of the bugle struck upon his ear. He turned, and looked inquiringly along the pathway. His comrade was not in view; but he could plainly catch the sound of his distant footsteps. He quickly bent his bow, and shot the arrow into the aperture; then, as if fearful lest some spirit should issue from its violated sanctuary to punish him for the act, he urged himself to the top of his speed, and soon rejoined his companion. (To be continued.) THE HUNTER OF THE ALPS. (FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER.) WILT thou not tend the flock, my son, Where calmly bright yon waters run, Upon whose banks, on flow'rets wild, The lamb depastures, sportive, mild? "Mother, mother, I would go To hunt amid yon mountain's snow!" Wilt thou not call the herds away To seek the silent reign on high!" Wilt thou not stay to watch the flowers Away, away, the hunter-boy Over grim rocks' bare giant-sides, Now hangs she o'er a trackless fall, With look, tho' dumb, that terror spoke, And rescues, with a god-like arm, The dumb-complaining beast from harm, Hath space enough for mine and thine!" **D. THE LATE MR. DRUMMOND. Ir were a dereliction of every duty we have undertaken to discharge, as an organ affording a deliberate and heart-spoken utterance to the national will, if we suffered our present number to close, without tendering the tribute of our affection and respect to the memory of him, who has so recently been snatched away from us,-him, who beyond all comparison, was the best friend that, in an official station, England has ever permitted us to know. The ordinary terms of eulogy are dull; he would not like them could he hear them; and were there no other cause, we therefore would not use them. There is more of what is honourable to our people,-more that those who especially mourn over his untimely grave, regard,-in the recollection of the stunned look, and choking words of grief of every man who had ever had the happiness to know him, when the fatal truth was told. Even before his death, and during the day when it became generally known that all hope of his recovery was gone, the hardest features seemed to shrink, while the inquiry was made as to the latest accounts from his dwelling. And that dwelling-but we dare not venture to intrude upon the sacred place of sorrow; only to hear those singular, memorable words, wherein he gave his parting testimony to the love he bore to Ireland and her people, should we break the fearful privacy of the chamber of death. Conscious of his approaching end, he did the land he had served so well the justice to believe, that her people would not soon forget him,-that they would honour his remains as no other people would; and he wished, the wish of the great and good,-the wish of those who live not for themselves merely, but for their kind,—he wished not to be forgotten. He had dwelt among us long enough to believe that we are a people, on whom faithfulness and kindness are not thrown away. With calm though closing eye he looked over the map of his spent life, and resting on the arm of her who had cheered his toil, and soothed his pain, he said:" Let me be laid in the green land I have striven to serve, which I think I leave better than I found it." He sighed when he thought that it was not permitted him "to live-the days of her glory to see ;" but in the firm assurance of heaven's continued blessing upon those saving principles of civil and religious liberty, which he was the first in his station to practice fearlessly and effectually in Ireland,-the future redemption of his adopted country was revealed to him, and seeing it afar off, he was glad. Mr. Drummond when very young, chose the profession of a military engineer, as his pursuit in life. Having prepared for the examination, by which candidates are admitted to the College where that art is taught, he determined to offer himself for entrance on a particular day. It happened that he arrived somewhat late, and was told that he could not be examined on that occasion. The young energy of the future statesman rose up in the boy. He argued against the exclusion, declared himself ready to undergo the strictest test of acquisitions, and finally fought so hard against being sent back to his home for another year, that the master of the College yielded, and he honourably redeemed the challenge he had ventured to give. The only complaint that was made against him during his tutelage, was the violation of prescribed hours, by rising before the usual time to work at extra-science. Beside the various branches of professional study, he mastered the higher departments of chemistry, for which he had a peculiar taste. But it was not his temper to acquire merely; in every thing he desired to strike out some new path for himself to add something to the discoveries of others. To this creative power and energy we are indebted, for that invention which bears his name; and whether for utility in application or simplicity of principle, we believe there are few discoveries since the Safety Lamp of Davy, which are more deservedly appreciated than that which is so well known as the Drummond Light. A still more beautiful, and to Ireland, much more important application of scientific knowledge to new purposes, was the introduction of the use of the Heliostade as a practical instrument in the Ordnance trigonometrical Survey. From the difficulty of obtaining objects of sight, which should be permanently visible for any length of time, little accuracy in obtaining bases for trigonometrical observations could be had. The Heliostade had been long before used as an instrument in optical experiments, but had not been thought of as affording a remedy for this practical defect in engineering, until its suitability occurred to Mr. Drummond. Its use has since become universal in the prosecution of the great work for which it was resorted to. Of the political benefits conferred by our departed friend-for we cannot name him by the cold appellations of ordinary respect, we shall say little here. It is too soon to waste one word upon those to whose system of government he was opposed; and the people need no monitor to remind them of what he was. We candidly own, that when in 1835 we heard of his appointment, we were discontented. We knew not the man; we only knew that he was a stranger. And weary of beholding our country victimised by the system of sending men from England here, to learn at our expense the rudiments of official skill, we deprecated a choice which on principle we deemed wholly indefensible. Were it possible for the qualities of a single man to outweigh national considerations, we own freely and gratefully that those, whereof we have been recently bereft, would do so. But the very sentiment which fell from his dying lips, that he desired to be recollected as if he had been an Irishman, is a confirmation, touching and expressive beyond any thing we could say, of the principle that Irishmen should fill Irish offices. He wished not to be thought of as the English under-secretary for Ireland, but as one, who having transferred his affections to the scene of his official duties, craved the sympathy of those whom he had by adoption made his countrymen. In vain shall we look for such a man in England, to fill up the vacancy he has made. 'Twere unnatural to expect to find one. The disposition and the reach of mind that characterised him are seldom met with anywhere. He was the starlike exception to the evils of a broken rule; but that rule is founded in nature, right, and justice; and while we kneel beside his grave, we say—Let his successor be, what he in spirit had become— an Irishman. Academy, Irish, transactions of, 272. Ainsworth's Jack Sheppard, Reviewed, 209. Ali and his Guest, a Tale of the Caliphate, 517. Architects, the Institute of, 205. Bashful Englishman, the, 197, 282. Charley Molony, 38, 104. Chatsworth, Visit to, 35. Frazer's Guide through Ireland, Notice of, 136. Gossip from Paris, 131, 220, 298, 380, 452. Grattan, Life and Times of, 154. Grund's Aristocracy in America, Reviewed, 138. Hall, Mrs. S. C., her Marian, a Novel, Reviewed, Hoare, the Very Rev. Dean, Letters on subjects Corporation Reform in, 143. Grand Juries in, 23. Guide through, by Frazer, 136. Jury System in, 303. Legislation for, in 1839,-128. Letters on, by Dean Hoare, 213. Magistracy in, 223. Medical Reform in, 30. Parties and Prospects of, by E. Nolan, Public Institutions in, 203. Railways in, 3, 176. Registration Bill for, 492. Registries in, 72. Science in, its progress and present con- dition, 272. 326. Irish Academy, Transactions of, 272. Art Union, 207, 301. Chancellorship, the, 141. Commerce, 383. Drama, the, 318. Emigrant, Song of an, 398. Institute of Architects, 205. Law School, 140. Music and Musicians, 192. Topography, 294. Jameson, Mrs., her Social Life in Germany, Re- viewed, 390. Juvenile Historical Library, notice of, 379. Knowles, Dramatic works of, 318. Law Reform, No. 1., The Magistracy, 223; No. II., Juries, 303. Law School, New, 149. Legal Intelligence, 140. Life and Times of Grattan, by his Son, Reviewed, Life and Works of Davy, by his brother, Re- Lines for Music, 247. Literary Register, 61, 134, 209, 375, 439. Malibran, Madame, Memoirs of, Reviewed, 448. Mechanics' Institute, the, 203. Metaphysics, 434. |