merchants, and the numerous barges of pleasure or commerce, passing to and fro, and creating a world of their own on the proud bosom of the swelling Thames. The association with the fame and the memory of the greatest of her poets then existed not; the inanimate scenes were there, but not the spirit of song, which has since given them life in the history of letters. So much cultivation at the hand of art and the agency of wealth, presented such a rich and novel contrast to the wild character of nature in his own country, that his eye and his mind was occupied almost to forgetfulness of his companion, and the mysterious purposes which he was upon.

The sculler stopped at Hamptoncourt, and the party landed. The waterman received instructions from the stranger, who, with De Lacy, entered at one of the gates of the palace. In such a place, fear, had he been accessible to it, would have deserted him. He was in the palace of a sovereign to whom he was devoted heart and soul; his was the consciousness of loyalty, not of disaffection or treason, and he breathed the atmosphere most congenial to his moral existence. Having crossed a large court, and entered a smaller one, passing two sentinels, a narrow and winding side passage terminated in a gothic arched door, at which the stranger rung a bell. Before the door was opened, the stranger grasped De Lacy's hand, and pressing it with friendly warmth, said, "My mission rests here for a while; as you shall use the present moment, you are in the way of fortune-you'll find me here at your return." The door was opened by a porter in the royal livery; another bell was pulled, and its summons was answered by another servitor, still more gorgeously habited; the stranger put a sealed billet into the hand of the menial, said something which De Lacy did not hear, when he was respectfully led up a flight of oak stairs, black with age, and the banisters fantastically carved; they next passed through a suite of rooms into an inner anti-chamber, where the footman delivered the note to a gentleman in waiting, accompanied orally by the stranger's instruction. De Lacy was here left by himself, and as he waited, a side opening from a corridor, flew open, and a beautiful female, apparently

of rank entered, as if engaged in highly animated conversation, closely followed by a fine looking youth. Both stopped somewhat, but not much disconcerted, on perceiving De Lacy. She turned to the youth with an arch expression of assumed gravity, and, lowly curtseying, said in French, not, perhaps, expecting to be understood by the stranger-" Heaven long preserve his Majesty! When your Highness's reign commences, that of morality will be at an end." "And you will rise at court," retorted Prince Charles, (for it was he,) and gaily kissing his hand and laughing, he retired by the same door, while the lady went out by another; whether she was the future Lady Castlemaine, or Duchess of Portsmouth, our history does not say.

In a few minutes, De Lacy was requested by the gentleman in waiting to follow him. They passed through a room in which seated at a table, with books before them, were a youth, somewhat younger, and of less favourable aspect than he who had previously made his appearance in the manner we have stated, and an elderly person, who, from his complexion, expression of countenance, and dress, appeared to be a foreign ecclesiastic. The youth, De Lacy afterwards learned, was James Duke of York, and the aged man an Italian priest, filling the double office of chaplain and confessor to the queen, and preceptor to the young duke; the fruits of such cultivation arrived in due season to a bitter maturity. The attendant now opened a door and announced De Lacy. Two objects fixed his attention. One, a female reclining, in a half reposing attitude, on a richly ornamented ottoman, beside which stood a small table of ebony, curiously inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl, on which were writing materials, sealed letters, &c.; at her feet lay growling a very pretty black and white dog, since known by the name of King Charles's breed-"Ö! fie, donc! taisez vous, Fidelle !" exclaimed she in a soft voice and native French, looking steadily and observantly at De Lacy, but not addressing him. The other was a female far more advanced in life, and of dignified and commanding aspect; her demeanor and expression of countenance betrayed a proud severity, and it could be seen, at a glance, that condescension on her part

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was an effort, and not familiar to her nature; she too, was seated at another table, on which were also letters but recently sealed. On De Lacy's entrance, she arose, and with unbending dignity addressed him, saying, Sir, you are in the presence of your queen." Had not a motion of her hand and the direction of her eye as she spoke, together with the foreign air and cast of features, pointed out the recumbent Henrietta, De Lacy might well have paid his mistaken homage to the stately Marchioness of Winchester. With the grace that was natural to him, he sunk on one knee and bowed deferentially to the queen, who, with one of those captivating smiles, which, when she pleased, could send her words and purpose to the hearts of those she addressed, graciously motioned him to rise; at the same time directing a glance at the marchioness, which was understood; the Marchioness said, "her Majesty permits Mr. De Lacy to be seated;" he still hesitating, she added more emphatically, "the queen commands." He seated himself accordingly, when Henrietta, with a sweetness of voice and manner, rendered more fascinating by a mixture of melancholy unusual to her country, and but lately familiar to herself, addressed him in French, which her previous information had ascertained that he understood. At that period, indeed, the knowledge of the French language was almost confined to the well educated, and higher ranks of the Scotch and Irish, and was very partially cultivated even by the same classes in England.

"Altho' not inclined, Sir, to remit of our wonted state, at a time that disloyal faction is working to its humiliation or overthrow; the friends of perilled royalty are always so few, that we should not interpose, at a time like this, those cold ceremonies which might chill the hearts warming to our cause; your character is not strange to us; you are devoted to your king."-"To danger, poverty, and death!" answered De Lacy, bowing low, and emphatically pressing his hand to his heart. "We know it, you have been at the Court of France."-He bowed. "Yes,, she added, without waiting for other answer, your French is of the court; will you be my ambassador thither, not accredited but secret and confidential ?"—" In all things and to all things,

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your majesty may command my willing and devoted obedience !" "Your mission, Sir, will be a delicate one; it will require the most guarded secrecy, prudence, and address; perhaps courage in a more than ordinary degree: the first, we hope, has not been learned in the school of your aged companion, tho' we are indebted to him for the involuntary information which has led us to make choice of your services; the second, is not quite native to your country, the last is its characteristic, combined with a chivalrous loyalty." De Lacy felt the glow of a natural pride that some redeeming graces were conceded to the polluted land of his birth and he bowed his acknowledgments. "The virtues, Sir, strange to say, are here lost in religion, and so obscured by faction, that, with very few exceptions, we know not where to find them -the spirit of political apostacy possesses the land. Our enemies leave us nothing to suspect although everything to fear; they, at least, are honest in the demonstration of their purpose and their hate; but the greater danger of the prince, and degradation of public character, is found in the difficulty of knowing whom to trust, and the discrepancy between profession and action" -a sigh here escaped the queen, and turning with the tenderest and strongest expression of her eloquent eyes, to the marchioness, she added," And yet we should almost thank the Commons for the full knowledge of our dear Winchester and her faithful lord.” "Your majesties," replied the marchioness, "have, I trust, friends enough, faithful and bold to sustain you triumphant over your enemies." "We must act in the spirit of what we would accomplish," rejoined the queen, "if we desert not ourselves, God will be along with his anointed." Here the inspiration of hope, and the pride of majesty elevated her air, and flashed in the commanding glance of her eye. “We make choice, Sir, of your services on this occasion, because the court of France is familiar with Irish gentlemen, who, therefore, are less liable to be objects of state suspicion, but still more, because, from what we have learned, we think we can trust you." Then taking the sealed letters in her hands, she continued, "These letters you will be careful of until you can with certainty deliver them

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as addressed. Richelieu's policy is so sinister that I dare not trust him, and his jealousy of power such, that he must not know that you have a political purpose in being in Paris. He not only wields the power of the king, but he would prevent Louis from being a brother." Her bosom heaved with an irrepressible sigh. The Countess ***** keeps the gayest hotel in Paris. The letter addressed to her will obtain you welcome admission to her parties, and those opportunities she will assist you to use to the service of your sovereign. I can scarcely hope your access to Louis, the vigilance of the cardinal is so closely directed to English subjects. Secondary channels of communication must, in the event, be resorted to, and these the Countess will supply. You will find written instructions more at large. The Queen of England's exchequer is not redundant, but what you shall need will be supplied to you by the Countess. I dare not trust our ambassador-political good faith and official fidelity are nearly extinct. Farewell, my gallant servant! The good genius of Charles, and the blessing of God, speed you!" Henrietta, then taking a splendid diamond ring from her finger, presented it to De Lacy, holding forth, at the same time, her hand for him to salute. Kneeling, he devoutly pressed it with his lips; then rising, and disposing of his papers, he made his obeisance, and, retiring as he came, found the stranger who had been his conductor from London, at the water-side, waiting for him. They entered the scull, reached Durham stairs, parted, and met no more.

Little preparation was necessary, and little time was lost in De Lacy and his aged friend proceeding to Paris. Father Denis re-occupied an apart ment in his old college, and our hero, for such, reader, gentle or ungentle,

we announce him to be, entered on his mission, the issue of which has already been anticipated. The private affections of the French King, opposed no contrast to his political character, and not only were any aids or interference refused, but Henrietta was prohibited from visiting the French Court. Failing in the objects of his journey to Paris, De Lacy joined, as a volunteer, the armies of Austria, then engaged in a war against the Swedes, and acquitted himself with such credit and gallantry in two campaigns, as to attract the notice of the Archduke, by whom he was promoted to the rank of Captain. But on learning that Henrietta was raising supplies in Holland, our soldier hesitated not to relinquish the golden hopes which opened to him in the service of a foreign state, and hastened to cast himself and his destinies at the feet of his Sovereign Mistress, where his natural and cherished allegiance was due. He was received with confidence and distinction, and appointed her Majesty's Master of the Horse, with the rank of Colonel in the army. The scarcity of friends wonderfully increases their value, although, strange to say, there have been, and are even in our own day, Sovereigns who give the preference to, and lavish their favours upon their enemies.

"Most dear and precious were the faithful few,
Who, midst the many false remaining true,
Shed a bright halo round the gloom of fate,
To cheer the spirits of the falling great."

Father Denis joined his friend and pupil at the Hague, and such is the history which we thought necessary to give of these two personages, whom we embarked with Henrietta, under the care of Commodore De Ruyter, with whom, and exposed to all the hazards of falling in with the ruffianly parliamentarian cruisers, we now leave the whole party until our next chapter.

The unsettled state of our agricultural and manufacturing intereststheir frequent paroxysms of activity and stagnation and the wide-spread wretchedness of the labouring classes, which is the necessary attendant upon such fluctuations, have loudly demanded the general attention; and indeed they have, of late, met the earnest consideration of intelligent individuals, of voluntary societies, and, in some degree, of parliament.

To prevent this attention from evaporating in benevolent wishes, or merely speculative theories to impart to it steady perseverance, and practical energy-and to feed it with suitable fuel, until it issues in some beneficial result, naturally devolve upon the landed proprietors, and other intelligent, and independent members of society. These, living among the patients in this great hospital, should mark, and report the symptoms, that parliament may, at once, be reminded of the disease, and have a complete diagnosis, on which to prescribe the remedy.

But the misfortune is, that in those intervals of comparative prosperity, which periodically alternate with others of general distress-as soon as famine has ceased, for a time, to clamour at the doors of private or public charityall are but too ready to embrace this hour of repose, and to abuse it to indolence and supineness. Instead of employing it, as they might, advantageously, in the peaceful contrast of conflicting opinions, and the adjustment of conflicting interests, they are apt to forget, at once, the future and the past. They forget that the rest of the disease is still untouched-that, although our poor have food enough to-day, they may, to-morrow, and certainly will again, and that at no distant period, be starving -and that, in the very best times, there is wretchedness sufficient to debase their morals, and wither their affections. Forgetting, I say, all this, they rest satisfied with the present, because fa

mine, disease, and misery, are not compelled, by intolerable extremity, to quit their hovels; and stalking abroad, in squalid and offensive nakedness, to obtrude themselves upon the eye and ear. In fact, our gentry live in the epicurean spirit of the heathen poet, “carpe diem."

We remember an elderly gentleman of the Castle Rack-rent school, who illustrated, and sometimes ludicrously enough, in his private affairs, this indolent improvidence of his brethren, in public matters. Our good-natured friend was one of those who are very unwilling to sacrifice present ease, in order to guard against the future, and contingent inconvenience. He adopted, as his motto, though not, precisely, in the spirit of its Divine author, that profoundly wide maxim, "Sufficient unto the day, is the evil thereof." Like the fowls of the air, he lived, practically, upon Providence, and was "careful for nothing." While enjoying a quiet game of backgammon, with a friend, a servant entered the room, and rather with the hurry of a man at his wit's end, than the frigid apathy of a fashionable footman, announced the forcible entry of his dairy stock, who, perhaps, felt their master's negligence through the breach in the hay yard wall; adding, that the cattle were rapidly demolishing, and trampling down, the hay rick. The case was urgent. Our friend paused, for a moment, at a very interesting crisis of the game, to balance the profit and loss of present ease and future annoyance. But he quickly decided, and pronounced judgment, not, we must confess it, with the same calm composure as a judge of assize-“ Let them make the most of it; it's all they shall have for the winter." The servant, who was, perhaps, an heir-loom of the family, well knew his master, and would rather precipitate himself upon some fifty pair of horns, in chevaux de frise, asserting their paramount claim to the hay yard, than encounter an

indolent man provoked to action. He quickly disappeared, we trust to raise the posse comitatus on his own authority, and to do the best he could in this dilemma. What arguments were used by the foolish and improvident herd, when the hay-rick was eaten or wasted, in despite of the warning to make the most of their supplies, it were no difficult speculation to divine. We may be assured that they bellowed, and pawed, and butted their indolent and quiet-loving guardian into a compliance with their reasonable demands.

This, we admit, is not argument. It is merely an anecdote of our old friend, who, some thirty or forty years ago, resigned his charge into the hands of heirs, who, no doubt, have since been progressing in the march of intellect. Still, in reference to the subject before us, we say to the collective wisdom of the Irish gentry, "Mutato nomine, de te fabula narratur." Food, like water, when pent up, will make, where it does not find, a level. In seasons of famine, the rich must feed the poor.

The disease under which the country labours is evident. A superabundant population, debased in morals, as a superabundant population must ever be; and reckless, from want of occupation and food; and with, in Ireland, the additional ingredients of all the ignorance, idleness, and fanaticism, political and religious, which a bigotted and exclusive, a superstitious, encroaching, and demoralising creed, ministered by a vigilant and ambitious priesthood, can produce. It seems, also, to be the general opinion, that this disease can never be thoroughly eradicated without the extreme and expensive remedy of amputation by colonizing; and that even this, to be permanently beneficial, must be followed up by the mild regimen of a religious and moral educational system, judiciously administered. By reforming those links of affectionate and reciprocal attachment, which should subsist between landlord and tenant, and which Papal ambition has rent asunder-by the tenant's feeling that his landlord is his natural protector and friend-by the landlord's feeling that neither his respectability nor his enjoyments are to be measured by the number of his freeholders, or the amount of his rent-roll, but by the regularity and security of his income; and still more by the comfort and morality of his de

pendents. In this spirit, "giving them that which is just and equal"-raising them from the level, or should we not rather say, from beneath the level, of the brutes, with which, in many instances, they are now obliged to consort; and which, in some instances, are better lodged, and more plentifully fed -teaching them to feel a want of the decencies and comforts of civilized life, by

habituating them to their enjoyment-looking after them in sicknesssympathizing with them in any afflictive dispensation-attending, with paternal interest, to the education and advancement of their children—and watching, with vigilant interest, over the morals,would that the circumstances of the country permitted us to say,-the religion, of all.

It will, we know, be objected, "We are already aware of all this, but deny its practicability, in consequence of the irritated and unnatural state of popular feeling, which the priests and demagogues have conspired to excite. We are ready to new-model our estates, and to manage them on new principles; to make rent an equitable arrangement, which will permit to our tenantry not only the necessaries, but the comforts, of life; and we are ready to do this, not merely from motives of benevolence and justice; but, also, because we have learned, by experience, that it is the only way in which we can secure our properties from dilapidation and impoverishment, and obtain from them a certain income. We are most anxious to promote habits of industry, sobriety, and cleanliness-to civilize the agedto educate the young-and to live on cordial and affectionate terms with all. But they will not permit it. The priest, like a gloomy and portentous cloud, interposes; wields, not spiritual thunders, for these would be powerless among a people whom his political harangues and prostituted office have converted to infidelity-but he wields the more dreaded, because the more sensible and immediate sanctions of the law of opinion. He threatens to call them from the altar if they co-operate with us in any plan for bettering their moral condition. And while many are groaning under this oppressive tyranny; and most, if they knew the real sentiments of the mass, which they have been accustomed to consider the priest as expressing, and which, to all practi