was surrounded by several old women, who held tapers and lamps above and about her, that we might have a more complete view of her figure and attire. She was a young person, (perhaps seventeen years of age), of middle stature, with very agreeable features, and a light complexion, though she seemed to us to have used paint. She wore a scarlet roble, superbly trimmed with gold, which completely covered her from the shoulders to the ground. The sleeves were very full, and along the bottom ran a beautiful fringe of small bells. Her head-dress sparkled with jewels, and was most elegantly beaded with rows of pearl, encircling it like a a coronet; from the front of which a brilliant angular ornament hung over her forehead, and between her eyebrows. She stood in a modest and graceful attitude, having her eyes fixed on the floor, though she occasionally raised them, with a glance of timid curiosity, towards the spectators. Her hands, joined together, but folded in her robe, she lifted several times towards her face, and then lowered them very slowly. Her attendants, presuming that the guests would be gratified with a peep at that consummation of Chinese beauty-the lady's feet-raised the hem of the mantle from hers for a moment or two: they were of the most diminutive kind, and reduced to a mere point at the toe. Her shoes, like the rest of her bridal apparel, were scarlet, embroidered with gold. In justice to the poor creature, during this torturing exhibition (as we imagine it must have been to her), her demeanour was natural and becoming; and once or twice something like half a smile, for an instant, shewed that she was not entirely unconscious of the admiration which her appearance excited, nor much displeased by it.

I

Took a walk by sunset to the Ilissus. passed, on the way, the "Lantern of Demosthenes," a small, octagonal building of marble, adorned with splendid columns, and a beautifully-sculptured frieze, in which it is said the orator used to shut himself for a month, with his head half shaved, to practise his orations. The Franciscan convent, Byron's resisidence while in Athens, was built adjoining it. It is now demolished. The poet's name is written with his own hand, on a marble slab of the wall.

I left the city by the gate of Hadrian, and walked on to the temple of Jupiter Olympus. It crowns a small elevation on the northern bank of the Ilissus. It was once beyond all comparison the largest and most costly building in the world. During seven hundred years it employed the attention of the rulers of Greece, from Pisistratus to Hadrian, and was never quite completed. As a ruin, it is the most beautiful object I ever saw. Thirteen columns of Pentelic marble, partly connected by a frieze, are all that remain. They are of the flowery Corinthian order, and sixty feet in height, exclusive of base or capital.

Three perfect columns stand separate from the rest, and rise from the midst of that solitary plain with an effect that, to my mind, is one of the highest sublimity. The sky might rest on them. They seem made to sustain it. As I lay on the parched grass, and gazed on them in the glory of a Grecian sunset, they seemed to me proportioned for a continent. The mountains I saw between them were not designed with more amplitude, nor corresponded more nobly to the sky above.

The people of Athens have a superstitious reverence for these ruins. Dodwell says, "The single column towards the western extremity was thrown down, many years ago, by a Turkish voivode, for the sake of the materials, which were employed in constructing the great mosque of the bazaar. The Athenians relate, that after it was thrown down, the three others nearest to it were heard to lament the loss of their sister! and these nocturnal lamentations did not cease till the sacrilegious voivode was destroyed by poison."

Two of the columns, connected by one immense slab, are surmounted by a small building, now in ruins, but once the hermitage of a Greek monk. Here he passed his life, seventy feet in the air, sustained by two of the most graceful columns of Greece. A basket, lowered by a line, was filled by the pious every morning, but the romantic eremite was never seen. With the lofty Acropolis crowned with temples just beyond him, the murmuring Ilissus below, the thyme-covered sides of Hymettus to the south, and the blue Egean stretching away to the west, his eye, at least, could never tire. There are times when I could envy him his lift above the world.

I descended to the Fountain of Callirhoe, which gushes from beneath a rock in the bed of the Ilissus, just below the

temple. It is the scene of the death of the lovely nymph-mother of Ganymede. The twilight air was laden with the fragrant thyme, and the songs of the Greek labourers returning from the fields, came faintly over the plains. Life seems too short, when every breath is a pleasure. I loitered about the clear and rocky lip of the fountain, till the pool below reflected the stars in its trembling bosom. The lamps began to twinkle in Athens, Hesperus rose over Mount Pentelicas like a blazing lamp, the sky over Salamis faded down to the sober tint of night, and the columns of the Parthenon mingled into a single mass of shade. And So, I thought, as I strolled back to the city, concludes a day in Athens-one at least, in my life, for which it is worth the trouble to have lived.

AN IRISH ADVENTURE.

Wonder at.

Nay, I'll speak that, which you will Shakspeare. MISERABLE, indeed, are the cabins of Ballygawley, with their roofs irregularly covered by nature with a green sward, which, at a little distance, strongly resembles a long neglected dunghill. On a nearer approach, the neck of a broken bottle, an old tea-cup, and sometimes a brogue (an old shoe) fixed on the end of a stick, and placed over the door, apprises the traveller, that that which at first he doubtless mistook for a dunghill, is a house of entertainment! a place where smuggled whiskey is publicly vended, in defiance of the numerous absurd and oppressive measures which the Board of Excise has adopted for its prevention, but which, instead of effecting this, have proved a curse to the country, and a greater scourge to the innocent than the guilty.

On many of the humble taverns is written up," Good dry lodgings," meaning every possible accommodation for the weary pedestrian, of which a notification is variously announced, such, for instance, as that already mentioned; sometimes a wisp of straw, tied to the end of a long rod, projecting upwards from the door, which promises only a bed; sometimes a turf, with a tobaccopipe suspended as the former, indicates a higher kind of entertainment, consisting of tea, sugar, and tobacco; but if a besom be set up, the traveller may rest assured of refreshment of the very best

kind, in which is included whiskey of the "right sort."

My driver happened to stop at one of these inferior houses to refresh his baste, where five men and a young female were regaling over a bottle of whiskey, for the purpose, as they said, of "christening Donald's castle." This Donald had been married the day before, but having no house to live in, four good-natured neighbours volunteered their services to assist him and his bride to construct one. They accordingly had assembled at daylight, and in thirteen hours completed their task. The "castle" was finished, and the newly married couple were to occupy it that very night! Green heath composed the bed, a row of sods was to serve for a pillow, and Donald's "big coat," with Sally's cloak, had to answer for bed-clothes.

Dennis Killrooney, my "" charioteer," having comforted himself with a drop of the crater, set off at a good round pace, singing hastily a verse or two of an old song, which he usually quoted when aisy and comfortable.

At the door of whose cabin I've oft left my But the swatest of all was that beautiful maid,

spade;

From the window she'd peep like a sly fairy elf,

Crying, "Misther Kilrooney, get out wid yourself."

If you stop till I open the wicket, my dear, I'll be making a noise which nobody can hear, Sure I always behaved as all jontlemen do,

Who like me are descended from Brian Boru.

"Sure, I'm bothered now," exclaimed Dennis, making a full stop; "and which road will I take, when there's just no road at all."

"How far is Omagh ?" I inquired. "Never was there myself," was the answer; "sure I know 't is a great way." "Is it three miles ?"

"Fait! and three miles would see you but a small part of the way."

Will I

"Is it six miles, think ye?" "Och! 't is up entirely.' "Sure, that's Tim Connor. ax him, your honour ? -Tim Connor ! is it yourself?" bawling to a labouring man passing at the time; "this the way,

1

meself sitting down as aisy as an old glove-and Dan?' says he.-' Here!' says I.-There,' says he.—'Where?' says I. Well,' says he. What?' says I. It's cowld,' says he. It is,' says I. 'Ho!' says he.-'Ha!' says I.-The devil,' says he.-Yourself,' says I. And then there was a holy row, and a cry for shilelahs and whiskey-and meself blacked the eye of Tim Connor."

"But, Dennis," said I, interrupting him, "this must be Omagh.'

"You may say that—I'll be thinking it's just like it."

"Well, then, draw up to the Cat and Cullender, and let me out. I shall remain here to-night."

"You 'll remain here to-night?"
"Yes-what then?"

"Then you won't go any furder." "Very true-so here's your fare.” At this moment I observed a postchaise stop before the door, from which three gentlemen alighted. Their faces were familiar to me, and I recognized, in an instant, Captain Kildare, Colonel Aspen, and a Mr. Bragster, whom, as he observed, " they had kindly given a lift from London;" for Mr. B., though lusty, was a very sparing man, who never threw away a penny carelessly." What right have post-boys," he used to say, "to expect any thing-their master pays 'em ; or, supposing you do give sixpence, or a shilling, 't is as much as they can demand." The travellers were of very opposite character. The captain spent his money freely, as long as there was any to spend, and his friend the colonel thought he could never spend enoughergo the parsimonious Bragster found himself in excellent company.

After a warm greeting on both sides, we entered the inn, and secured beds for the night. The first thing Mr. Bragster proposed was a hot supper, at the same time shrewdly observing to his friends, "you both look hungry?" and when the waiter made his appearance exclaimed, "now stir the fire and close the shutters fast-let fall the curtain-wheel the sofa round-now let us welcome peaceful evening in."

"Peaceful! do you call it?" said the captain (who was beating the devil's tat

A combative turn seems universal among the lower Irish, for I have often observed at their fairs, when two people begin to fight, the surrounding crowd, as if compelled by an irresistible sympathy, would in a few minutes be at loggerheads together. But in these cases there is no appearance of ill blood, either before or after the battle.

"Waiter!" cried Bagster in astonishment : "don't you remember the song, If with water you fill up your glasses, You'll never do any thing wise, For wine is the steed of Parnassus,

That hurries a bard to the skies.

That's the song my father always quoted, when any one called for water.'

The supper now made its appearance, when Bragster, rubbing his hands, and throwing himself into a great arm-chair, called out, 66 I say, captain, allow me to help you?" "Thank'ye, but I'd rather help myself."

"So would I," yawned out the colonel : "how sleepy I am!"

Mr. B. having first plentifully supplied his own plate, kindly allowed us to help ourselves, and earnestly requested some bread-sauce. Now, bread-sauce was so particularly agreeable to this worthy gentleman's palate, that, unlike most people, he first made an attack upon that.

"I say," said the colonel, "you hav'nt eaten any of that bread-sauce, have ye?" "Who, 1?-yes,—eh!" "'Cause if you have "

"Well, I have, what then?"

66

It's all your own-you may take my share, I promise you,' answered the colonel.

Now, though Bragster's eyes sparkled at these words, "it's all your own" (for he well knew that the captain and myself were no sauce eaters), yet it naturally occurred to him that some trick or other had been played with his favourite breadsauce. He tasted and tasted, but instead of fancying any unpleasant flavour, thought every mouthful more delicious than the former. At length, looking earnestly at colonel Aspen and the captain, he inquired, "what's the matter with the sauce?"

"Why, I make it a rule," said the former, "never to eat bread-sauce and bread-pudding at an inn; you don't know know, that 't is composed (to say the what they put into it; but this you do least) of all the dry odds and ends, scrapings, and riff-raff, as I call it, of the kitchen."

"I don't believe it," said Bragster, surveying the sauce, and laying down his

knife and fork, "I don't believe it, at a respectable inn like this."

"No matter if you did, since you have already partaken plentifully of it. There is a vulgar saying, you must eat a peck of dirt before you die."

"But I've no idea of eating a peck of dirt, I assure you."

"Well, well," muttered the captain, "what have I eaten in my time! Why, I've been glad to eat a bit of my horse, and drink essence of dead men out of dirty ditches, during the Peninsular

war !"

At this moment the chambermaid entered the room, to know if she should warm the beds.

"Yes," said the colonel, yawning, "I'll have my bed warmed-no, I won't -stop-yes, I will."

"And I," said Bragster; "I'm always apprehensive of a damp bed."

"Damp!" cried the captain, with a sneer, suppose 't is wringing wet, what then? I've slept night after night on wet straw-rain pouring in torrents, during the Peninsular war! What,you afraid of cold!"

"Who's afraid? I assure you, Captain Kildare, I never pay any attention to such things; only thought, as Colonel Aspen was going to have his bed warmed, I would

during my stay I received a pressing invitation to spend a few days with some friends of my father's, who lived in an old rambling castle, not far from —, Accordingly, having packed up a few necessaries, I arrived there about four o'clock in the afternoon: this was in December, and it turned out a very stormy evening. I was received with very great hospitality, though they were strangers to me, but hospitality is the characteristic of the Irish. There were a few friends invited to dinner, and we passed a very pleasant evening. About half-past eleven the company retired. I should have mentioned, there was a large party staying in the house during my visit; and the lady of the mansion, Mrs. Morone, informed me there was a bed prepared for my reception in one of the wings of the castle, which she said was seldom inhabited, as it was reported to be haunted. 'However,' she resumed, you're a soldier, and of course will not object to sleep there;' she then took a light, and conducted me to my apartment. I followed her through one or two long passages, as dreary and damp as Mrs. Radcliff could have desired; indeed, the castle itself would have been very suitable for 'spirits of the vasty.'

"My room was rather large and oldfashioned, with a small bed in one corner; the roof was very high, and the furniture appeared the worse for wear, or rather for the damp; the whole presented by no means a comfortable appearance. Mrs. Morone, wishing me a pleasant night, left me to my meditations. I had placed the candle on a small table at one end of the room, and was half undressed, when, suddenly turning round, I unfortunately struck my arm against the candlestick, and overturned it. Very annoying,' said I, aloud. I knew there was no bell in the room, and it was quite impossible to find my way in the dark to the inhabited part of the house. I was, fortunately, no coward; for the wind, which was very high, whistled through the long passages leading to my room, and an old tree near my window, by rubbing against the wall, made a moaning noise, which I naturally concluded had frightened the former inmates into a belief of a ghost or spirit. I groped some time for my bed, which having discovered, I lay down, making myself as comfortable as possible, and was about to steep my senses in forgetfulness,' when recollecting the door was unfastened, I hastily rose and endeavoured, but in vain, to find it. I walked round the room, then walked