away in transcribing the memoirs of its last owner. When my task is completed, I will forward it to you, and for ever bid good bye to this unhappy, but lovely island. Forgive the formidable dimensions of this packet, and present my regards to your lady and her daughters. Believe me, my dear Bridgworth, ever faithfully your friend, ROBERT ASHWORTH. Banville, Nov. 28th, 1815. My dear Bridgworth, I RECEIVED your letter of the tenth, and shall feel great happiness in making one of your Christmas circle. I am heart-sick of this once-loved spot, although all that poor Stephens and his amiable family can do for my comfort is done. I have performed my task, and the little history of Henry O'Hara is completed; it shall be at your service at Bridgworth. I have made my last pilgrimage to Castle Carra, and amidst its desolation. paid the tribute of a tear to the memory of its hapless owners. When I left my native valley, the seat of Frederic O'Hara enticed the traveller to digress from the direct road, and repaid him by its noble and ancient grandeur. What now meets his eye? a pile of scorched buildingsroofless and grass-grown-nothing left but the oaken and scathed beams which supported the lofty ceilings, and which, from their size and solidity, bade defiance to the devouring element-of all its noble oaks not one remains to screen the traveller from the shower. The gothic fury of the bigot yeomen consigned the building to the flames, while the lands escheated to the Crown were left without one tree to shelter them. The lawn and gardens are now in little patches of tillage, and along the sweet banks of the mountain rivulet, once almost concealed by full grown evergreens, the boors have placed their mud-walled cabins, and the old curse may be considered as fulfilled on the name of O'Hara, The hare may shelter in his hall. I intend to go to Dublin on Thursday, and without delay to embark for England, where I hope to find that peace which would be now unattainable in this my native island. Adieu, Dear Bridgworth, ever yours, ROBERT ASHWORTH. Gresham's Hotel, Nov. 30th. P. S. I detained my letter until this post in order to fix my departure with certainty. I am to leave Dublin this evening in the Holyhead Packet, and may well with the Poet, say My native land, Good night, R. A. O'HARA. CHAPTER I. Come thy summons when it may, Southey's Madoc. Ir was a clear cold morning in February—the 47th Regiment was drawn up for parade on the Mall, and the officers were falling into-line, as old Colonel Abercrombie rode up on his white charger. Time had changed the colour of the steed from light grey to milky whiteness; the horse and his rider were old friends, and many a day's service had they seen together. That something uncommon had occurred was quickly observed by the regiment; for the Colonel sat more erect, and the charger moved VOL. I. B with more than usual animation: conjecture was, however, soon put to rest by the veteran's producing a packet of War-office dimensions, which, on reaching the centre of the line, he opened with suitable solemnity-all was breathless attention. The Colonel hemmed twice Forty-seventh regiment,"-" His Majesty (God bless him!) has deigned to confer high honour on the corps I command, by selecting them for foreign service-I have here orders of readiness for America: the officers, non-commissioned officers, and privates will, therefore, prepare every thing for speedy embarkation. In my person," the Colonel hemmed again"his Majesty has honoured me with his gracious consideration, by signifying his intention of giving me a command at home, should I apprehend my health would suffer by change of climate; but, I am now well stricken in years, and where can I die so happily as with that regiment which for twenty-five years it was my pride to serve in?" The unequal voice with which this short speech concluded, showed how full the Colonel's heart was; and, as he uncovered his venerable head to huzza, his silver |