wealth and time, that those frivolous, if not criminal pursuits, upon which the one is so often abused and the other wasted. We might then, with some prospect of success, say to them, "go, and do thou likewise." Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell were present-the former, in the absence of Lord Farnham, acted as butler, and was sedulous in his attendance upon the children. The fare was excellent, bread and cold mutton in abundance, after which a good substantial pudding made its appear ance, to which, you may be sure, the little ones did ample justice. They were then dismissed, the boys in one direction, the girls in another, to amuse themselves throughthebeautifulgrounds. And when they were tired with play, tea was provided for them. It was, altogether, a scene to feast the heart of a philanthropist ; nor is it possible to conceive the system general throughout the country without anticipating the happiest results.

But Lord Farnham is a Tory ;-of course, an enemy to the people. Thus it is that he proves his enmity. There are other noblemen and gentlemen not very distant from him, who are Whigs, and therefore friends to the people. Glad would I be that their advocates had an opportunity of contrasting their estates, their tenantry, and their conduct with his, and thus judging of the tree by its fruits. In one case they would see profligacy, squalidness, and misery; on the other, cheerfulness, morality, and contentment.

The Church, in this part of the country, is ably supported. I do not mean politically, (although in that sense it has some strong friends,) but morally and intellectually, by the excellent and able men who have devoted themselves to its service. I recognized some individuals of ample fortune, and very considerable collegiate celebrity, who have resolutely turned from the most tempting worldly prospects, and embraced the cause of their persecuted Church, with an ardour proportioned to its wants and its danger. I believe you knew Carson ;-he is a nephew of Wagget, the Recorder of Cork. He was, when in college, the most distinguished man in his class, and he is here in season and out of season, preaching the Gospel, and voluntarily relinquishing every distinction but that of a good and faithful servant of his Divine Master. "Is it possible," some one said to me, "that a church so administered should be doomed to fall?" My answer was, "When the Lord wishes to disseminate his holy religion, he does not choose damaged seed. Look across the Atlantic, and you will almost hear a voice saying, come and help us."

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But I must conclude, unless I mean, (which I do not,) to make my excursion as fatiguing to others as it was agreeable to myself. Farewell-if you are tempted by any thing that I have said, to ruralize for a few weeks in the County of Cavan, I promise you that you will not be disappointed.

If the present times be chargeable with increase of crime, it will be admitted that there is a striking change in the grade and character of the criminals—a certain order of things has made state offences infrequent. Enactments against treason are now a dead letter in the statute book. The headsman's axe rusts in the armoury of the town. "Noble Lords," and "Gentlemen of ancient descent" seldom appear at the bar of justice-and rarer still, does capital punishment fall upon any, removed by birth and fortune from the lowlier classes of the community.

That this change is attributable to any reformation in the principles of the upper ranks, would be a very questionable inference. In our days the high-born and the wealthy have small inducement to violate the salutary restrictions of the law. However the moral code may be infringed, the criminal one is respected. In breaches of privilege and honor, aristocratic delinquency is chiefly comprised, and loss of character and caste the severest penalty incurred by the offenders.

There are, however, within our own recollection some melancholy exceptions to be found. Men of superior rank have occasionally presented themselves as criminals-and as the wellbeing of society demands, the impartial hand of justice visited the offence with unmitigated severity.

Of the few unhappy cases, one will be remembered with lively regret.— For no crime were there more apologists-for no punishment more general sympathy-and while his sentence was accordant to the letter of the law, the sternest ethic lamented that justice required a victim like Major Alexander Campbell.

This unfortunate gentleman was the descendant of an ancient family in the Highlands. Having entered the army at an early age, he served abroad under Sir Ralph Abercrombie, and in Egypt had particularly distinguished

himself. He was transferred to the 21st Fusileers from a Highland corps, and his promotion to a brevet majority, it was said, had given offence to the senior captain of the regiment. Certain it is, that between these officers no cordiality existed-little pains were taken to conceal a mutual dislikefrequent and angry altercations took place, and the temper of Campbell, constitutionally warm, was often irritated by the cool contradictory spirit of his unfortunate victim.

The 21st Regiment was quartered in Newry when the half-yearly inspection occurred. As senior officer, Major Campbell commanded on that occasion. After dinner, in the course of conversation, Captain Boyd asserted that Campbell had given an order incorrectly on parade. A hot and teasing argument resulted-unfortunately that evening the mess table had been deserted for the Theatre, where the officers had patronized a play, and the disputants were left together at a moment when the presence of a judicious friend might have easily averted the catastrophe. Heated with wine, and exasperated by what he conceived a professional insult, Campbell left the table, hastened to his apartinents, loaded his pistols, returned, sent for Captain Boyd, brought him to an inuer mess-room, closed the door, and, without the presence of a friend or witness, demanded instant satisfaction. Shots were promptly interchanged, and in the first fire Boyd fell, mortally wounded. The dying man was removed to his barrack-room, and Campbell hastened from the scene of blood. The storm of passion had subsided, and the bosom of the wretched homicide was tortured with unavailing remorse. a state of mental phrenzy he rushed to the chamber where his victim lay, supported by his distracted wife, and surrounded by his infant family. Throwing himself upon his knees, he supplicated pardon, and urged Boyd to admit "that every thing was fair."

In

allow the case of the unfortunate gentleman to be submitted to the King.

The mental agony of Campbell's attached wife was for a time severe beyond endurance, but by a wonderful exertion she recovered sufficient fortitude to enable her to set out in person for London to throw herself at the Queen's feet, and implore her commiseration. To cross the channel before steam had been introduced was frequently tedious and uncertain, and when the lady reached the nearest point of embarkation, her journey was interrupted; a gale of unusual violence was raging, and every packet stormstayed at the other side. She stood upon the pier in a state of exquisite wretchedness. The days of that being whom she loved best on earth were numbered, and to reach the seat of mercy was forbidden! The storm was at its height-a mountainous sea broke into the harbour, while a crowd anxiously watched the progress of a fishing boat, which under close-reefed canvass was struggling to beat up to the anchorage.

The success of the little bark was for a time uncertain. The spray flew in sheets over the mast head, and frequently shut the vessel from the view of those on shore. But seamanship prevailed-the pier was weathered and amid the cheers of their companions, and the caresses of their wives the hardy crew disembarked.

At that moment the sorrow of the lady attracted the notice of the crowd, and it was whispered that she was wife to the unhappy convict, whose fate even in that remote spot had excited unusual sympathy. An aged fisherman stood near her, and Mrs. Campbell enquired "if the weather was likely to moderate?" The mariner looked at the sky attentively, and shook his head. "Oh God! he will be lost," she murmured-"Could I but cross that angry sea, he might yet be saved!" Her words were overheard by the crew of the fishing boat, who were securing its moorings. A momentary consultation took place, and with one consent they offered to carry her across or perish. "It is madness," said the old man, "no boat can live in yonder broken sea." But the courage of the hardy fishermen were unshaken. The lady was placed on board; the skirt of the main-sail set, and after a passage as remarkable

for its shortness as its danger, they reached the Scottish shores in safety. To the honour of these noble fellows be it recorded, that they refused to accept one shilling from the mourner, and followed her carriage with their eyes, invoking blessings on her journey.

The commiseration of all classes was painfully increased, by the length of time that elapsed between the trial and death of Major Campbell. In prison he received from his friends the most constant and delicate attention; and one lady, the wife of Captain seldom left him. She read to him, prepared his meals, cheered his spirits when he drooped, and performed those gentle offices of kindness, which are so peculiarly the province of woman. When intelligence arrived that mercy could not be extended, and the law must take its course, she boldly planned an escape from prison, but Campbell recoiled from a proposition that would compromise his honour with the keeper. "What," he exclaimed, when assured that otherwise his case was hopeless— "Shall I break faith with him who trusted in it? I know my fate, and am prepared to meet it manfully; but never shall I deceive the person who confided in my honour."

Two evenings before he suffered, Mrs.

urged him earnestly to escape. The clock struck twelve, and Campbell hinted that it was time she should retire. As usual he accompanied her to the gate, and on entering the keeper's room they found him fast asleep. Campbell placed his finger on his lip." Poor fellow," he said in a whisper to his fair companion, "would it not be a pity to disturb him?" Then taking the keys softly from the table, he unlocked the outer wicket. “Campbell," said the lady, "this is the crisis of your destiny-this is the moment of escape-horses are in readiness, and"— The convict put his hand upon her mouth-Hush!" he replied, as he gently forced her out, "would you have me to violate my promise?" Bidding her 'good night,' he locked the wicket carefully, replaced the keys, and retired to his chamber without awaking the sleeping jailor.

The last scene of his life was in perfect keeping with the calm and dignified courage he had evinced during his confinement. The night before his execution, the Chaplain slept in his

room.

This gentleman's exertions to obtain a remission of punishment had been incessant, and now that hope was at an end, he laboured to prepare the doomed soldier for the trying hour that awaited him. On that melancholy night he never closed his eyes, while Campbell slept as quietly as if no extraordinary event should happen on the morrow. To the last his courage was unshaken, and while his friends were dissolved in grief, he was manly and unmoved. He mounted the stone stairs leading to the scaffold with a firm and measured step, and while the rope was being adjusted, the colour never left his cheek, nor did his countenance betray the slightest agitation.

One circumstance disturbed his equanimity for a moment. On entering the press-room the executioner, frightfully disguised, presented himself suddenly. Campbell involuntarily shrunk from this loathsome being, but as if annoyed that the wretch should shake his firm ness for an instant, he calmly desired him to proceed, and take care that the arrangements for death were such as should make his transit from the world as brief as possible.

It was a curious incident attendant on this melancholy event, that the 42d regiment, with whom he had served in Egypt, then garrisoned the town; and

the same men he led to a bayonet charge against the invincibles of Napoleon formed the jail guard to witness his execution. The feelings of the Highlanders when drawn out to be present at the ignominious end of their lion-hearted comrade, were indescribable. When the sufferer first appeared at the fatal door, a yell of anguish pealed along the ranks, and every bonnet was respectfully removed. Campbell addressed a few words to them in Gaelic. Instantly every face was upturned to heaven; every cheek was bathed in tears; every lip uttered a prayer for mercy at the judgment seat, and when the board descending with thundering violence, announced the moment of dissolution, the fearful groan that burst from the excited soldiery will never be forgotten.

After being suspended only till life was extinct, the body was placed in a shell, and a hearse in waiting received it and drove off rapidly. The remains of the ill-starred soldier were conveyed to Scotland. There the clan and relatives of the deceased were waiting to pay the last tribute of their regard. In immense numbers they escorted the body to the family cemetry, and in the poet's words, "They laid him in his father's grave."

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VOL. II.