generous heart. His followers escaped in safety, as they had anticipated, and reached the residence of their chief, late on the evening of the appointed day. The affray between the military and the supposed insurgents at Glenarm, furnished a theme for conversation for a few days, and the only effect it produced was the appointment of night patrols in the neighbourhood; no suspicion rested where alone it ought, and the peasantry were stigmatized as the projectors of an attack upon one who was so deservedly popular as Colonel R-. Edmond continued at M'Naghten, brooding over his own guilty thoughts, and endeavouring to arrange matters to carry his projected schemes into effect. One evening he was startled by the entrance of the servant, whom he had bribed to forward his interests at Glenarm, who had asked to speak with him in private. The intelligence he had to communicate was, indeed, important to Edmond's plans. Colonel K, alarmed at the mysterious circumstance of the woodhouse, had determined upon leaving Ireland, and was actually now on his way to an eastern port, where it was his intention to embark for Scotland. His daughter, of course, accompanied him, and, in a short time, she would be beyond the reach of Edmond's machinations.That very night they were to pass within a few miles of M'Naghten, and there was still a possibility of intercepting them. The faithless servant who thus betrayed their movements, had accompanied them to Coleraine, where he left them, and hastened to communicate this intelligence to his employer -a purse of gold rewarded his treachery and exertions and Edmond quickly formed his plans, in accordance with the information he had received.

The accomplices in his former desperate undertakings, were soon summoned to attend him on another. M'Naghten conducted them into the armoury of the castle, and told them of his plans. The road along which Colonel K-must pass, lay through a lonely and narrow defile in the mountains. There, under the guise of robbers, they were to attack the carriage, and having rifled it of its precious burden bear her away in safety to an old and almost ruined tower in the mountains. The carriage road took necessarily a long sweep to avoid the mountains, but a

bye-road over the hills would bring them there long before the travellers could reach it by their circuitous route. M'Naghten took down from the walls of the armoury swords which had long hung there unmoved, and providing each of them with a carbine, and a helmet, upon which waved a blood red plume, which graced the crest of the M'Naghtens in ancient times; he despatched them forward before him, with directions to await his arrival at the glen, with the exception of Phelim his foster brother, whom he detained to accompany himself.

When they had gone he grasped the hand of his faithful companion and said, "Phelim, we must do no injury, we must stop the carriage and bear off the lady, but not a hair of any one's head must be touched; the appearance of our numbers and our arms will soon terrify them into a surrender." He put his hand across his forehead as if in intensity of agony; he then moved up and down the room in violent agitation; his eyes glared with a strange fire, and a slight froth curdled on his ashy lips. Phelim was almost afraid to speak, at last he ventured to remind him that it was time for him to go; he started as if from a dream; he waved his hand towards a corner of the armoury, as if noticing some one to depart, "Ah, Sir," said Phelim, "give up this wild plan, and think no more about any lady that thinks little about you; there is a wildness about you that is strange."

"Are you afraid, Phelim?" said Edmond in a tone of reproach, “afraid!” echoed the other, "no man ever saw me yet afraid. Well, since it must be so, I will go with you, although God knows my heart misgives me." M.Naghten had not waited for a reply, he was arraying himself in an ancestral coat of mail, he tied round him an ancient belt, and slung in it a brace of heavy pistols

having first examined and loaded them; he then opened a drawer, and taking from it a small phial, swallowed off its contents, the draught appeared to revive him, he gaily buckled on a pair of knightly spurs, and directing Phelim to bring two horses to a particular part of the demesne, proceeded himself thither on foot. It was a calm and still night, the light fleecy clouds were stationary in the heavens, and the rays of the moon which struggled through them, came with a milder and

softer radiance than if she had shone in an unclouded sky. There was a silvery haze over the landscape, and the dark mountains seemed reposing in the universal peacefulness of nature.M'Naghten stood upon a little rising ground, and folding his arms, he gazed upon the castle, and thought of the errand upon which he was going, but he changed not his purpose, he felt, he believed, that some demon urged him to the act, and he could not resist the impulse, he viewed it through the medium of a phrenzied mind. Many a sleepless night had he passed, and human nature could not bear the ceaseless torture by which he had been racked he could not think-his was the sullen, the reckless determination of madness. His companion did not keep him long waiting, he soon heard the light trampling of the horses on the turf, and in a few minutes more they were both on their way to the appointed place.

It was a wild and lonely valley, between two rugged and steep mountains, whose craggy sides seemed to have been torn asunder by some former convulsion of nature. Between their bases the ground was smooth and level, unless where it was furrowed by the rush of the torrents that occasionally poured down the sides of the hills, or where large masses of rock dislodged from the brow of the mountain by some mighty force, lay deep imbedded in the soil beneath. Behind one of these M'Naghten posted his companions, while he himself rode up and down impatiently expecting the arrival of the carriage. But there was no sign of its appearance. They examined the road but could discern no fresh marks of wheels, by which they knew it had not passed previous to their arrival. Yet though the hour was late, the travellers arrived not, and they began to think that they had altered their intentions, and had remained for the night in Coleraine. At last they heard the rumbling of wheels at a distance-it came nearer the carriage appeared in sight just as it turned a corner of the road it was driving at a rapid pace. M'Naghten and Phelim rode up, and each presenting a pistol at the postilion, ordered him to pull up; he lashed his horses, and attempted to pass on.Stop!" cried M'Naghten, with an oath, or by you are a dead man." Those concealed behind the

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rock, now rushed out, and one of them discharged his carbine with sure and deadly aim, at the horse on which he rode, the ball entered his forehead, and was lodged in his brain. The animal plunged and writhed in the agonies of death, and flung his rider far into the middle of the road. The other horse attempted to drag on the carriage, but impeded by the weight of the dead animal, and entangled in the harness, after a few ineffectual struggles, he stumbled and fell. Meanwhile the servants on the carriage fought bravely in defence of their master, a ball had grazed M'Naghten's arm, and another of his party was lying mortally wounded on a little tuft of heather. Provoked by the death of their companion, the rest rushed on, and, despite M'Naghten's injunction, aimed their pieces with deadly precision, at their opponents. M'Naghten and Phelim both rode to the carriage door, a shot from behind killed Phelim's horse, and just as he fell, a ball from the carriage whizzed past M'Naghten, and entered his foster brother's heart. He shrieked wildly, gave one convulsive spring, and lay bleeding and stiff. M'Naghten's horse plunged, it was scared at the sight of bloodshed and death, he cast one glance of pity at his dying servant, whose eyes as they glazed in death, were still turned towards his master. The moon shone full into the carriage, and then he saw the hand that had aimed one unerring bullet at poor Phelim's heart, raising the reloaded pistol against himself. Colonel Khad him covered, in another instant he would be with his servant; Edmond had instinctively raised his pistol-his hand was on the trigger-he pulled it-the bullet sang through the air-a wild scream rang upon his ears of, "It is Edmond!" and then there was a low and stifled sobMargaret's heart's blood was trickling drop by drop upon her father's breast. She had recognised M'Naghten-flung herself across her father-she had dashed aside the hand that would have taken her lover's life, and the ball which was speeding to her father's heart, was lodged in her side, and Edmond was her murderer.

Shall I go on?-shall I trace that murderer's sad history any further, or have I told enough ?-my eye is dimmed by tears, and my faltering hand trembles as I write,-but we will follow

him to his grave. We have seen him in varied scenes of passion, of madness, and of guilt; and we must view him in his latter end-we must follow him to the gloomy retirement of a condemned cell, where M'Naghten the generous, the noble, and the brave, is lying in the abode of felons, a convicted murderer.

He had surrendered himself to the demands of justice-he had stood as a criminal at the bar-he had borne the gaze of thousands, assembled but to see him, he had heard without apparent emotion, the indictment read, that charged him with a murder-the murder of her for whom he would gladly have died himself. He had pleaded guilty to the charge. He might have entered a defence, and from the feeling excited in his behalf, he would probably have been convicted but of manslaughter, but when the solemn question was put, "Are you guilty or not guilty?" he raised his eyes from the ground where they had been fixed, he looked round the court house upon the multitude with a sullen and haughty glance, then calmly and distinctly answered, "Guilty!" No muscle vibrated -no feature changed upon his deathlike countenance. A thrill of pity pervaded the court house, and all again was hushed in an intensity of interest, as the judge divested himself of the emblem of deliberative, and assumed that of avenging justice, yet still M'Naghten's gaze was haughty and unchanging as before. The awful sentence was passed, and he was condemned to an ignominious death-but not even the quivering of a nerve betrayed emotion. A murmur of compassion burst from the crowd, but he heeded it not. He was borne back to prison, his apartment was changed to one of those small and gloomy cells allotted to those whose days are numbered by the sentence of the offended law.

O woman! fairest of God's creatures, given to man as a blessing, without which even paradise would have been lonely, and now when that paradise is gone, and each successive generation of man is "born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards," still sent as his best, his dearest consolation! thy love is not like the love of man, it changes not with time, it alters not with circumstances, it survives neglect, it can forgive insult and

injury; and how often do we see woman still love on with all the intensity of her soul's affection, when the object upon which her fondness is wasted, has betrayed her. Like that odoriferous plant of the desert, which exhales the sweetest perfume beneath the foot of him that tramples on it. Edmond is not alone in that dismal cell.-Woman's love has found its way to the dark solitude of his prison house, and Julia,

the betrayed-the forsaken Julia is with him, when no other friend is near. His fevered temples are throbbing on her snowy breast, and her delicate hands are sustaining the weight of the irons with which he is fettered. She came to bid him one last farewell, to watch and solace the last hours of his life, and minister comfort to him, who, after all his injuries, was still the idol of her soul. And he had made a strange request, and urged it on her as his dying one; it was that she should give her consent to a union even with a condemned criminal. "You are my wife already in the eye of heaven," he said, "and why should the taint of dishonour rest upon your name? we will now declare our vow, and you shall be the lawful wife of Edmond M'Naghten." She mentioned his oath, he took from his breast a paper, it was the packet which Margaret had handed him when last they parted, it absolved him from that vow, and charged him to do justice to the poor injured Julia, by the only reparation he could make. The trembling girl could not speak. He sighed, and said, Perhaps you are right in refusing to have the name of a condemned," the remainder of the sentence was lost in a groan. She threw her arms around him, she sobbed and said, "O Edmond! cut me not to the heart by such a thought, your name I will be proud to bear, even should the scorn of a world attend me, and let it be as you wish."

The last rays of the setting sun glanced obliquely through the barred windows of the cell, as the ordinary of the gaol read the solemn service that united them. The casement was raised and the mountain breeze entering through the grating, seemed to mock by its freshness and freeness, the prisoner who was not to leave his confinement, until he ascended the scaffoldthe hum of the neighbouring town was borne upon the gale, and the sparrows

were chirping and twittering gaily, as they fluttered round the old walls of the building. M'Naghten's right arm had been unfettered, his left still wore the manacle, and the gaoler stood near with his bunch of keys in his hand, whose jingling at every move he made, formed a strange sound for a bridal ceremony. M'Naghten loudly and calmly repeated the vows -Julia bent forward and whispered them, but when she came to the words "Until death us do part"-she could not utter them, she sunk upon M'Naghten's breast, he attempted to throw his arms around her, but his manacled hand prevented him, and the links of the chain clanked with a dismal sound. The rough gaoler was moved, he released his hand, and a tear stole even along his hardened cheek. The clergyman continued to read, Julia's head still rested on M'Naghten's bosom, and her long, lank hair was falling down upon his neck. Her lovely countenance was glowing with a hectic flush, and the damp dews of mortality were resting on her forehead. His were turned upwards as if in prayerthe ceremony concluded, and it only remained for the clergyman to join their hands, and pronounce them man and wife. He gently disengaged her arm from Edmond's neck, he placed her hand in his—it was cold and clammy-he pronounced "What God hath joined together, let not man put asun

eyes

der"-but he said the solemn words as if he felt that they were vain, they were, alas! too soon to be put asunder; he changed the blessing to a prayer. M'Naghten responded a deep and a thrilling Amen! Julia screamed hysterically, and sunk again. They bore her to the open window, the evening breeze fanned her temples, but it was in vain, she hung a heavy weight upon their arms-her spirit had fled from the scene of her sufferings and sorrows, and M'Naghten clasped in his arms the clay-cold corpse of his bride.

A few words more, and I have done. -M'Naghten's interest and the exertions of his friends procured for him a pardon, and the evening on which he returned to " 'M'Naghten," the hills for miles around were lit with the bonfires of the rejoicing peasantry, but he did not long survive the ruin he had wrought. A few weeks passed→ and the mournful procession slowly wound its way to the family vault with his remains. He died of a broken heart.-Tradition still points to the spot where he mounted his horse upon that fatal night, and there the trees are stunted and low, and there is no vegetation but the rank hemlock; and some have said that they have heard strange and unearthly sounds, and voices as of persons walking to and fro mid the stillness of the night, as if a curse still rested on the spot.

Entomology is a science comparatively of modern growth. It is suited only to ages of refinement and advancement in knowledge-when the mind of man, in some measure informed respecting the grander and more striking objects of creation, has time to turn its attention to minuter inquiries—to seek an acquaintance with the hidden mysteries of nature-to pursue her to her secret recesses, and snatch, as it were, from her unwilling hand that knowledge which, from the limited powers of our organs, we might have concluded to be "non homini datum." Difficult and laborious was the research, and small indeed was the reward, of the earlier pursuers of this science. When Sulker showed his work on insects, with plates, to two clever men, one commended him for employing his leisure hours in drawing pictures that would be very entertaining to children; the other said, "they would make pretty patterns for ladies aprons."

In vulgar minds, minuteness is always coupled with insignificance-size with importance-their wonder is expressed by exaggeration-their heroes tower above the common height their gods are giants. To such the microscope unfolds its wonders in vain. They look with distrustful contempt on accounts of structure and contrivance, that they have neither patience to observe, nor intellect to comprehend. They meet you with a stale retort about butterfly-hunters and gnat-collectors; and consider the philosopher an idiot when he declares, Nusquam natura est major quam in minimis." Yet we are ever destined to find extremes meet. This despised and abused class of creation has in turn supplied subjects for Pagan adoration, for Jewish fable, and for Christian legend.

The scientific study of Entomology we may consider as commencing with

Linnæus. Aristotle, certainly, in the portion of his great work, I Z'Istogas, which he devotes to insects, exhibits his usual accuracy of observation, and distinguished powers of classification. Many of his divisions are in use at present, the very names he gave them preserved, and we can scarcely point out more than one remarkable error into which he has fallen, namely, that of upholding equivocal generation, Centuries added little worth notice to the observations he made. Pliny and Ælian, labourers in this field of natural history, supply us more with the fables of superstition than the results of experience, with bulky commentaries, than established facts. At the revival of science, insects came in for some share of notice. Albertus Magnus, deservedly so called from the size of his works, bestowed one volume, out of twenty-one folios on natural history, upon insects. He calls them by the general name of worms-describes butterflies as flying-worms, flies as flyworms, spiders as spider-worms, and, to finish all, calls the toad and the frog, which he includes in this class, quadru ped-worms! Aldrorandus, Gesner, Mouffet, an English physician of the Elizabethan age, and Goedarts, famous for his accurate drawings, followed him in this line; but the science is mainly indebted, during this period, to Redi, Leeuwenhoek, Swammerdam, and our own countryman, Ray. Redi is chiefly remarkable for his Esperienza intorna alla Generazione degl' Insetti," in which is a full exposure and refutation of the ridiculous theory of equivocal generation, which had maintained its place in the schools since the days of Aristotle. Harvey was the first who dared to attack this absurd doctrine, and his maxim, "omnia ex ovo," was fully canvassed and established by two of Italy's ablest physiologists, Redi and Malphigi. Śwammerdam