prigione Rinaldo stassi," the object of some deep-laid project, of some romantic design, in which there would be little to mortify his vanity or to disap point his feelings. The scenes he now inhabited were to him all fairy-land, and he believed that the Armida was not far distant, whose

"Teneri sdegni, e placide e tranquille
Repulse, cari vezzî, et liete paci
Sorrizi, paroletti,”

were to compensate to him for the disgusting agents she had employed in her service, and who had by no means "done their spiriting gently."

He had resolved, in his own mind, to take up his residence in some town or village in the neighbourhood of the Court, and there await the issue of an adventure, of which he alone could be the object. Notwithstanding his very ardent admiration for his compagnon de voyage; the personal distinction, and almost heroical cast of character and

physiognomy of the extraordinary stranger, it never once suggested itself that he also might have had some share in this extraordinary event. He was alone the hero of his own thoughts; and, with the hypochondriacal egotism of Rousseau, he believed himself an object of occupation, of amity or enmity to the whole world.

This train of thought was, however, soon broken, by the return of the Commodore, followed by the fisherman, who took charge of his valise, and stowed it in his little boat. He had engaged to row the younger traveller down the river, to its confluence with the Avonbeg, which which ran by Doneraile, and which was the oft celebrated Mulla of Spencer, where

"On each willow hung a muse's lyre." But the curiosity and interest excited by Kilcoleman, the Mole, and the Mulla, were now absorbed in feelings of a profounder emotion; and his approximation

to the shrine of his pilgrimage no longer awakened transports in the mind of the fanciful pilgrim. As the travellers

walked together to the river's side, the elder observed, "I have been making inquiries from the fisherman; and it appears that an old woman, who had the epithet of protestant Moll, and kept the mansion, where there is nothing to tempt to depredation, has been dead for some weeks. The house is unoccupied, and the approach by which we entered is the least frequented, there being several others, all open: Mrs. Magillicuddy is, therefore, some Ariel 'correspondent to command,' of a concealed Prospero."

"Ariel!" reiterated De Vere; "the foul witch Sycorax, rather.”

"Now, plaze your honor," said the boatman, as he drew up his boat close to a ruin, which he called the battery. With some difficulty De Vere was placed in the cot, which was one of the

smallest construction known by that name. The boatman, with his spoonshaped paddle fixed against a jutting rock, for a point d'appui, was pushing off from the muddy shore: the figure of the Commodore was thrown into muscular exertion, in endeavouring to assist, and the cot was just afloat, as he seized the extended hand of his unknown fellow-traveller.

"We part," said De Vere, in a tone of emotion, "almost as we met.”

"Almost," replied the Commodore, returning the strong pressure of his hand, with a grasp still stronger, but in a tone not firmer.

"Farewell, farewell!" repeated De Vere, as the boat cleared the banks; and he moved his hat, with an air of almost affectionate respect, half repressed by habitual apathy.

"Farewell!" returned the Commodore, with a mingled expression of courteousness and cordiality, returning the salute.

The little bark glided into the centre of the sunny stream. He whom it left behind in scenes so dreary ascended the point of a rock, which commanded the winding of the river: his eye pursued the cot, as its paddles threw up the sparkling waters, and as it appeared and disappeared amongst the projecting cliffs, or glided under the shady alders, which fringe the lovely shores of the AvonFionne. It soon became a black speck in the water, and finally disappeared in a bend of the river. The Commodore, with a short involuntary sigh, turned away his dazzled gaze. The gloomy, desolate demesne of Court Fitzadelm spread around him, he the sole occupant. "Alone !" he exclaimed aloud,-" once more alone, and where?" He glanced eagerly, anxiously, almost wildly round him. His respiration was short: emotions, long repressed, seemed to find vent: he threw up his eyes to heaven, and clasped his hands, almost convul