this? Why should you expose your life to the fire of one who has thus injured you?" "There is no other method to wipe out the stain," he answered passionately, "but at all events it must be done. I may not, and I cannot reason now. I have a request, and whether I shall ever make another I know not. You see these papers-I shall seal them up to-night; if I fall, let them be conveyed to my brother, -and you will say to my mother, but that way madness lies, or something worse, a faltering of the man within me. You will do what I ask -I know you will. And now-for I must sit down to write again-now farewell! God bless you-forgive me all this trouble." He wrung my hand-I promised, -I hardly knew what I did, or where I stood. "Farewell!" he said again. "No," I replied, "say good-night. I will be on, or near the ground, tomorrow morning." "Thanks, thanks-more than I can utter," he said; "I wished it, but dared not ask it-good-night!" That night I did not sleep. I knew not what to do. I thought a hundred times of going to the police, but was deterred by fear that in so doing I was betraying my friend's honour, and leaving him open to the further sneers and calumnies of his adversary. Morning came at length. It was the middle of March; a cold dry black wind blew in my face as I went forth, the sky was scowling, and gloomy forebodings took possession of my soul. As I reached Hyde Park, the gates were just opening. Soon after, two carriages passed; I followed them as closely as I could, and reached the ground just as the two combatants were led to their respective places by their seconds. I saw the self-confiding air, the cool, demoniac pride in superior skill, which appeared in the face aud whole deportment of H. He took his attitude with the air of an officer saluting on parade. R. was perfectly steady, but with an air of deep seriousness, far beyond that of his adversary. The seconds left them—the moment of suspense was agonizing. The word was given-they fired, and my friend R. tottered and fell to the ground, never to rise again. I flew to him, and flung myself down beside him, raising his head with my arm. The ball had struck him, as if directed with the most murderous duellist's aim, between the lowest rib and the hip joint. He was bleeding inwardly, the damp of death was already on his face, and the glassiness of his eye shewed that it was soon to close for ever. Oh! horrible, horrible, is such a sight. He held out a hand to me, and to his cousin, and murmured, "I expected it would end thus;" then disengaging his hand from me, he put it in his bosom, and pulled forth two little packets. "These, these," he faltered, "for my sister and my mo- Oh God! be merciful-comfort her, comfort her, my friend-farewell!" The blood gushed up his throat, from the inward wound. I can describe no more; we bore away the lifeless body from the ground. Who shall paint, or by what similitude shall be conveyed even a slight idea of the misery unutterable -the tearless agony-the swelling of the heart that will not burst and end the pain-the burning sword within the bosom, that tortures but will not kill-the intensity of grief that overwhelmed that widowed mother, when by cautious and slow degrees the full extent of her calamity was made known to her? Her eldest born, that first lay upon her bosom and drew suck-her consolation in her former great sorrow-her hope, her pride, her joy; he whom she had lately watched upon his bed of sickness, and had seen snatched from the jaws of death; he to whose renown she looked as the honour of her old age, was dead! dead! and lost to her-to all, not by the visitation of God, but by the hand of a villain who had slandered him, and before whom he then stood up to be slain! Many a night in darkness she paced about her room, trying to say, 66 Thy will be done, O Lord!" but the words stuck in her throat, for she could not reconcile her soul to what had happened. At length, however, came tears and resignation, and she confessed before high Heaven, that her heart had been too proud of her son, and that the chastisement, bitter, bitter as it was, and almost killing, yet was just. Nor was she left without comfort and support. Never before had she felt in its full extent the excellent spirit of that noble girl her daughter, who, like an angel in loveliness, and pity, and affection, tended her in her distress, and hid her own griefs, (weeping in secret,) that she might the better support her mother. There was but one of the family whose heart was not softened by this terrible visitation. It was the brother, to whom my unfortunate friend had written a long account of the whole course of affairs which led to the duel. To say he had loved the brother he had thus cruelly lost, is nothing-he idolized him-he was his guide, his instructor, his friend. If Richard R. had had a thousand lives, he would have given them all, to save that which was lost. The death of Charles utterly changed his nature in an hour. He read the long letter which had been written for him, and thenceforward, he seemed as a man of iron, or marble. He came to town immediately, and as soon as his brother's funeral was over, asked me, with a stern coolness that amazed me, a number of questions about H. I could tell him very little beyond what the reader of these pages is acquainted with, except that immediately after the duel he had set off for France. In two or three days Richard R. came back to me. "I have found out a good deal about that murderer," he said; "he is in Paris, and will be back in two months, if it seems safe for him then to return. Of course no impediment will be placed in his way. I have found out too, that for six weeks preceding my brother's murder, he went every second day to a shooting exercise ground, and practised with the pistol; he was sure of hitting any thing." All this was said with a dry fierceness that confounded me. "Farewell," said he, pressing my hand in his iron grasp, "I shall come back to town in two months, and shall then see you." I saw him before that time, when I visited his mother, but his manner was still the same. At the end of the two months he came to London. After the first salutations were over, "Mr H.," he said, "returned to London yesterday." "How do you know?" I asked. "I have had him watched," he replied. "You mean, then, to have him ar rested and tried," I observed, with some anxiety. "No," he answered; "arrested I do mean he shall be, but not tried -at least not at any earthly bar." "Good heaven! what do you mean to do?" I said; "I do not understand you; what do you mean to do with respect to him?" "To kill him," he answered with frightful distinctness, and ground his teeth, as if he were in imagination trampling him to death. I was dreadfully shocked. I feared he had lost his senses, and his look did not tend to expel the idea his hair had in two months changed from black to grey-his eyes flamed with revenge and defiance; his noble features-for he was one of the handsomest men I ever sawhad all lost their former expression of tranquillity and sweetness. He moved towards the door, but turning round, and, I suppose, observing my surprise and horror, he said, "I will not assassinate him-I will bring him into the field, or beat him to death in the public streets with my stick, as I would a mad dog;"-and as he uttered these words, he struck his stick with such violence against the floor, that it shivered like pipe-clay, and fell out of his hands in frag ments. what you are doing," I said; "you I started up. "You do not know have no chance with him-you yourself told me what a shot he was, and you have no chance but that of being killed, and your mother will break her heart." "I can feel but one thing," he answered," and that is, that I shall kill him. Look you, this day two months I had never fired a pistol but two or three times in my life, but when a brother is murdered it is time to learn. I have learned, and mark you any inch of space upon that knife," he continued, pointing to one which lay on the table, "and upon the edge within that inch of space, I will split five bullets out of six, at twelve paces." Before I was able to address to him any observation in return, he had walked away. Ere three days had passed, he had publicly proclaimed before a whole company where H. was, that Mr H., whom they sat beside, was a liar and a slanderer. I heard of it the same evening, and that a meeting had been arranged to take place, out of town, the next morning but one. I determined that there should be no hesitation on my part about applying to the police this time, and had arranged, before I went to bed, that both parties should be taken up at nine o'clock the next morning. It was now the height of summer, and the mornings were beautiful. I got up early, as was my custom, and walked out between five and six o'clock towards Knightsbridge. As I passed the Park gate, I saw, to my horror and amazement, a carriage pass with H. in it, and two others, and in a minute after, another rapidly followed, in which I recognised Richard R. The fact was, that after having settled the day following but one, as a blind to all but the parties concerned, they had agreed that the very next morning they should meet in Hyde Park. I looked about for assistance, but could see none, and, like a distracted man, I ran to the very spot where the former duel had been fought. As I went very quickly, and across the ground, I gained upon the second carriage, which had to go round by the road, and when I arrived at the spot, H. was bathing his right arm with cold water. The morning was so warm, that it appeared he found it expedient to steady the muscles by cooling them. "Hold, murderous wretch!" I cried; but just then the second carriage drove up, and Richard R., with a military friend, alighted. It was in vain to expostulate; both parties were determined to fight, and they took their ground. Never were two finer-looking men set opposite to one another for a deadly purpose. Richard R., the moment he took his ground, fell into a position like a soldier mounting guard, and stood firm as a piece of iron, coolly looking at the spot where his antagonist stood. I thought that for a moment something like an appearance of terror crept over H.'s countenance, but it soon gave way to the expression of cool Satanic hate. The pistols were handed to the duellists. I stood transfixed with I know not what of horror and fear. I could not look away, and yet it seemed as if my eyeballs would burst in looking at the combatants. Richard R. looked at the pistol as he took it, and the slightest imaginable trace of a bitter smile played about his mouth. The pistols were raised-the word "fire," had hardly reached me when both pistols went off. Merciful heaven! H. leaped into the air, as it seemed to me, the height of himself, and fell upon the earth as lifeless as the earth on which he fell. Richard R. stood still, as though he were an iron statue. He had sent his bullet into the ear of his antagonist, and right through his brain. I rushed up to him. horrible!" I said. "Very," he replied; "Is not this "but do not think me unfeeling that I contemplate it without emotion. This sight has been constantly before me for the last sixty or seventy days and nights. I felt and knew that I was to do this, and I have seen many a time, or it seems to me that I have seen all that I now see before me-that miserable man dead, in this very place where my brother was slain, and you to whom I speak, beside me. And now my work is done. My brother died bere, and now I can weep for him." And he bowed his head upon my shoulder, and wept as a strong man weeps, when his grief can thus find vent. As It appeared probable that close together as the two shots appeared to be, Richard R. had fired first, and to the immeasurably short period of time which his fire had preceded that of his antagonist, he owed the preservation of his life. H.'s pistol was levelled, it seemed certain that the ball would take effect under his adversary's arm; but before the charge had left the muzzle of the pistol, he had doubtless received the death-shot in his brain, and his weapon fell a little, for the ball went through the legs of Richard R.'s trowsers, but without giving him even a scratch. In three days from that awful morning, R. was on the Continent, where he lived in deep retirement for two years. For more than a year his mother did not know the real reason of his going abroad, though she had heard that he who slew her son, had fallen in a similar manner himself. When Richard did return, it was to call me brother, to which title I had acquired a right-by the law matrimonial. THE IRISH UNION.* No. II. THE bitterness of Irish party within the last thirty years has extinguished the national character. All the humour, the gay peculiarities, the eccentric animation, are covered with a mask, worn like the highwayman's crape, for the purpose of rapine. The old recollections of the land are to be found now only in books. The faithful attachment of the tenant to his landlord is changed into conspiracy against his house; the undoubting reliance of the landlord on the attachment of his tenant, is now to be judged of only by the watch which he is compelled to keep on every movement of the peasantry. The Protestant minister, no longer capable of exercising hospitality to his neighbours, or charity to the poor, is now starved by the dishonest refusal of his right, or hunted from the country for demanding it. The populace are the masters; and they have the full benefit of their mastery, in vulgar praises of their virtue, and in the general flight of their landlords; in flagrant incitements to revolt, and in the hourly decay of their means of subsistence; in the simultaneous discovery of their claim to all power, and in the growing and inevitable pauperism of the community. Yet the fertility of the soil has undergone no change; Ireland produces enough for twice her population, and could produce enough for ten times more. In the midst of this bounty of Providence, the mischief of man interferes; the politician puts the newspaper into the hands of the peasant, that he may thereafter put the pike; and the "Son of the Green Isle," as the politician fondly names him, begins his career by agitation, to finish it by famine. It is some consolation to turn from these days of Popish liberty, when every peasant feels himself entitled to shoot his landlord, unless that landlord is an orator, a Papist, and a rebel, to those days of Protestant tyranny, when men were fed, if they were not harangued; when the peasant was clothed and housed, if he were not regaled with the knowledge that he was the lord of the soil; and when men laughed, and sported, had their jest, and enjoyed their holiday, if they had not the supreme honour of clubbing their last farthing for an exported generation of orators in St Stephen's. One of the conspicuous characters of those past days was the Lord Mountmorris, who is characteristically introduced as the inmate of a Dublin boarding-house for young students and templars. His peerage did not prevent him from housing himself in this moderate establishment, nor his personal dignity from furnishing its society with some very amusing caricatures of the original Irish Noble. Sir J. Barrington describes him to the life, as a very clever and well-informed, but eccentric personage, perpetually displaying the most curious contrasts, among which ostentation and parsimony were chiefly remarkable. He considered himself by far the greatest politician in Europe, to which he added, in his own opinion, the fame of a first-rate orator. The latter distinction was one which his Lordship was peculiarly anxious to sustain, and which once brought him into the dilemma, of which there have been so many instances in the annals of ambitious oratory. Some topic which peculiarly stimulated his fancy, had induced him to prepare a florid harangue for the House of Lords. To save time, it was sent to a favourite newspaper, decorated with those interstitial ornaments of " Hear! hear! Loud cheers, and vehement applause," which are supposed to be so essential to the triumph of modern eloquence. It happened that the House Historic Memoirs of Ireland; comprising Secret Records of the National Convention, the Rebellion, and the Union; with delineatious of the principal characters connected with those transactions. By Sir Jonah Barrington, Member of the late Irish Parliament. Illustrated with curious letters and papers, in fac-simile, and numerous original portraits. In Two Volumes. Colburn: London. broke up without a debate. The noble lord's rambling recollection was diverted to some other subject; the rapid operations of the press were forgotten; and on the breakfast-tables of Dublin appeared next morning, to the astonishment of his Lordship, and the infinite mirth of every one else, his unspoken, spoken speech, in all the glories of premature fame. But even this unclouded genius had now and then his troubles of a more commonplace order. "One day after dinner, he seemed rather less communicative than usual, but not less cheerful. He took out his watch, made a speech, as customary; drank his tipple, as he denominated his brandy and water, but seemed rather impatient. At length, a loud knock announced somebody of consequence, and the Marquis of Ely was named. Lord Mountmorris rose with his usual ceremony, made a very low bow to the company, looked again at his watch, repeated his congé, and made his exit. He entered the coach where Lord Ely was waiting, and away they drove. Kyle, (the master of the house,) a most curious man, instantly decided that a duel was in agitation, and turned pale, at the dread of losing so good a lodger! Lieutenant Gam Johnson (a naval officer dependent on his Lordship) was of the same opinion, and equally distressed by the fear of losing his Lordship's interest for a frigate. Each snatched up his hat, and with the utmost expedition followed the coach. I was also rather desirous to see the fun, as Lieutenant Gam, though with a sigh, called it, and made the best of my way after the two mourners; not, however, hurrying myself so much, as, while they kept the coach in view, I was content with keeping them in sight. Our pursuit exceed ed a mile, when, in the distance, I perceived that the coach had stopped at Donnybrook-fair Green, where, on every eighth of June, many an eye seems to mourn in raven grey for the broken skull that had protected it from expulsion. I took my time, as I was now sure of my game, and had just reached the field, when I heard the firing. I then ran behind a large tree to observe further. "Lieutenant Gam and Kyle had flown toward the spot, and had nearly tumbled over my Lord, who had received a bullet from the Honourable Francis Hely Hutchinson, (late Collector for Dublin,) on the right side, directly under his pistol arm. The peer had staggered, and now reposed at his length on the greensward, when I certainly thought all was over with him. I stood snugly all the time behind my tree; not wishing to have any thing to do with the coroner's inquest, which I considered inevitable. To my astonishment, however, I saw my Lord arise, slowly but gracefully, and after some colloquy the combatants bowed to each other, and separated. My Lord got back to his coach with aid, if not in as good health, certainly with as high a character for heroism as when he left it. But never did man enjoy a wound more sincerely. It was little more than a contusion, though twenty grains more of powder would probably have effectually laid his Lordship to rest on the field of battle. He kept his chamber a month, and was inconceivably gratified by the number of enquiries daily made respecting his health; boasting ever after of the profusion of friends who thus proved their solicitude. His answer, from first to last, was no better.' To speak the truth, one-half of the querists were sent in jocularity, by those who knew his passion for public sympathy. "But this Cervantic Lord was not the only ornament of the House of Peers. He had his rivals; one of these was the late Earl of Kilkenny, as memorable for his lawsuits as for his belligerency. This peer's contrivances for first getting rid of the lawsuits and then of the lawyers, deserve to figure among the curiosities of the human mind. Like many other proprietors in the county which supplies his title, his Lordship was much troubled with that national disease, tardy payment of his rents. The generality of landlords in earlier days took them as they could get them; and desultory and dilatory as the expedient was, it somehow or other succeeded tolerably in the end. The tenant grew ashamed of never paying, or took a fit of punctuality for the mere whim of the thing; in other cases the tenant seldom suffered. The landlord did without the rent until he broke his neck over a six feet wall in a fox-chase, or went |