was almost a youthful giantess in stature, and was a perfect specimen of that untamed, luxurious, energetically-developed Irish beauty, which is fast becoming traditionary-large, full, sensuous at all points. But among a people devoted admirers of physical as well as mental qualities of a striking and pleasurable character, the peachy glow of her rich, rounded cheeks; the revelling light in her black, laughter-loving eyes; her spacious, white, wavy bosom; her wontedly lively wit and reckless audacity of animal spirits, fully entitled Molly Maguire to the reputation she enjoyed among her countrymen for personal irresistibility.

Molly was also famous for the gorgeousness of the costumes in which she indulged. In fact, it was chiefly through a fondness for dress and decoration, amounting to infatuation, and his ability to gratify her ambition in this respect, that the Duke of Tyrconnel had found means to urge his suit so successfully.

But Molly was at present in great dishabille, as became a person in her disastrous turn of fortune. Not altogether, indeed, on so philosophical a principle of the fitness of things, for the truth was she had packed up most of her valuables, in readiness for any opening at an escape that might offer. We believe, but are not certain, she had even forgotten to put on her hoop, then, as now, a most essential part of female costume.

We will not dwell much on the scene that followed between these quondam lovers, even though we feel particularly desirous to urge upon the reader some good apology for the weakness our friend Mahony betrayed in the conjuncture. For this unworthy charmer succeeded at last in inducing him to relent so far from the just indignation of his wrongs and well-founded dread of her ascendancy, as to win from him a promise that he would afford her his protection out of her present difficulties, and do all in his power in other respects to save her from the consequences of her errors. It is true Molly managed to persuade him-and there was the echo of the late uproarious mob still dinning in his ears to support her arguments-that if he abandoned her in the town she should never be able to quit it alive. The populace was furious with the part she had taken in Luttrell's conspiracy, who, she protested, had made her the unwitting agent of his treasons, under pretence of procuring her a pass from the English generals to leave the town. They would tear her to pieces the moment she appeared in the streets, she was sure, or at least mob and ill-use her, so that she should die of the fright if of nothing else. Whereas, she declared, her sole desire was to get away home to Galway, among her friends and relations there, that she might spend the rest of her days-they should not be many!-lamenting the unhandsome manner she had behaved to her first, and, after all, her only real love her dear, kind, honest, faithful Mahony! Now, Quin Abbey, it could not be denied, was on the way to Galway; and Molly backed her entreaties, that he would at least afford her his escort so far, with such an artillery of tears, sobs, smiles, clinging embraces, and lamentations over her hard fate-such declarations of total indifference to the approaching consummation of Luttrell's, who had never been anything to her but a vain tempter!-such terrible assurances, that if Mahony denied her his protection she should be obliged to fling herself on Monsieur D'Usson's, who had already repeatedly offered it to

her; that In short, our poor Mahony was, as we have stated previously, of the most Irish blood possible-open as the skies to the sun to all the witching influences of the sex- fashioned of "most penetrable stuff" by nature, and now permeated with such a glow of rekindled tenderness and pity in the repentance and caresses of his Eve, that all his resolutions melted away in his bosom, and he came to the legitimate conclusion at last, that it would be the most unmanly, unchivalrous, unforgiving, un-Irish thing in the world, to refuse this poor woman the little favour she demanded, under circumstances so disastrous. He himself, of course, no longer cared for her otherwise than as a deserted, unhappy female, whose misfortunes were almost as great as her errors, while the remembrance of the latter must for ever secure him from all danger of her regaining any perilous influence in his heart. To say all briefly, Mahony was almost as much in love as ever with his buxom Helen, and knew it no more than his boots.

Accordingly when the Major took his departure from the besieged city, into which, by-the-bye, bombshells were now beginning to fall pretty freely, one bursting almost under his horse's feet as he mounted it at an inn-door, he was accompanied not only by his original party of dragoons, but also by two women, in an old creaking gilded coach, belonging to the late Viceroy, which was loaded all over in every imaginable hank and hold with the most valuable portions of the effects Molly Maguire had acquired in her brief but lucrative ascendancy. And this noticeable passage she ventured on in spite of Mahony's entreaties, and her own apprehensions of the recognition and indignation of the people.

The Limerickers were, however, at present satisfied with the expected sacrifice of the principal in the conspiracy. Or perhaps the safe and almost unobserved transit of Molly Maguire through the city was due to the fact that the streets were cleared of all who had not some special business in them, by Sarsfield's orders, to prevent unnecessary confusion at the beginning of the bombardment. Several lanes of straw-thatched huts they were obliged to pass were besides already in flames, and the inhabitants sufficiently engaged in endeavours to rescue some portion of their miserable household goods from the destruction.

But had there been any danger from the populace, the gallant Mahony was at hand to prevent it; though it must be confessed that in the interval of reflection afforded him while Molly completed her preparations for travel, all his apprehensions returned, mingled with a great deal of very painful self-judgment and condemnation. It was quite wonderful indeed to Mahony, when restored for a few moments to his sober senses, to consider by what sorcery he had been subdued to so incomprehensible a weakness, and surrender of all the privileges to which his position as an injured and jilted lover entitled him. And he was terrified at the notion of what might possibly yet befall him if he suffered these chains, thrown so marvellously over him again, to become riveted. The disgraceful dereliction of honour and principle involved in any species of compromise with Molly Maguire, struck the brave Mahony in a thousand disastrous and ignominous aspects. All these reflections made him melancholy, and he was very far from reciprocating Miss Maguire's amiability on their departure, and absolutely refused her invitation to join herself and Nora in their coach. Molly jeered at times

to her attendant-"Did you ever see such a pragmatical ass,' as the Duke and Anthony Hamilton used to call such fellows out of the playbooks?" she observed.

And still the vehicle lumbered on with its guard of dragoons, Mahony slinking at some distance in the rear, absorbed in a most uncomfortable reverie-which nevertheless occasionally presented so ludicrous a version of the entire affair to him, that he could scarce forbear laughing at himself-until about two-thirds of the distance to Quin Abbey had been happily traversed. And hereabouts it was that the keen military observation of Mahony was suddenly roused by the apparition of a considerable moving body approaching across the extensive bog in which Sarsfield's horse had nearly sunk on the previous night. A glance satisfied the Major that this advance pretended at least to some degree of martial array, the main division being preceded by pioneers who sounded the bog with the aid of long poles, and shouted and signalled directions to their followers.

The mass was, however, too distant for any clear estimation, and Mahony was excessively puzzled as he gazed to understand who or what this approaching band could be. He knew of no Irish force that could possibly be expected in the direction they were going, and he was convinced his outposts at Quin Abbey could not have been broken in by an enemy without his having encountered some fugitive, or other sign of disaster on the way. Moreover, as he gazed, his disciplined instinct informed him that it was certainly no regularly-organized military force that was approaching. He discerned no appearance of uniform, no colours; and the weapons he speedily recognised for clubs and scytheblades from their bulk and gleam. The thought then struck him that this must be some of the disorderly, broken levies that now traversed the country in all directions, ravaging without restraint; and next it occurred to him that it was most probably the O'Neil clan, broken loose with hunger and desperation from the cantonment he had assigned it in the village of Quin.

Desiring the coach to halt, and assuring Molly, who looked very sulky at him now, and her maid, who already began to scream, that it was only a measure of precaution, Mahony rode forward, with some troopers, to reconoitre.

Almost the moment he was out of hearing, the lady tinkled a little bell that hung in the vehicle for the purpose, and a man in the late Viceroy's royal scarlet livery, who officiated as a running footman beside the coach, came up, respectfully touching his cocked hat, for orders. "Now's your time, Taafe!" said Miss Maguire. "He has'nt got eyes in the back of his wig, and is too stiff in the neck to turn suddenly; so just you slip your ways off to the English camp, and tell Ginkell what they are going to do to his friend. If he can't save him, I can't; but I have done my best for him, and nobody can say Molly Maguire's the woman to desert a friend in need. And mind you tell Luttrell that I shall expect him to marry me if he is'nt shot, as he has promised me hundreds and hundreds of times. And so good bye, and God bless you, my boy!"

Captain Taafe, for it was that worthy, disguised in what was perhaps a more suitable costume for him than those he usually wore, eagerly responded

"I was just thinking I saw the opportunity myself, and I'll be off like a shot-I hope with no company of the same sort after me! But be faithful to the poor Colonel, Molly, at least till you hear whether he is to be carbonadoed or not-what will he say when he hears you have gone off with Captain Mahony?"

Molly laughed. "There's nothing like keeping two strings to your bow, is there, Taafe? If Luttrell's shot, I shall have Mahony to fall back upon, poor fellow! though if he won't marry me, I'll have nothing to say to him either. And as I've plenty of money now to enjoy myself on, I don't see why I should not make myself an honest woman again, since it's done so easily, you understand!"

"You'll do more for yourself than all the saints could for you, Molly dear, then!" thought Captain Taaffe; but he said aloud, "There's one thing, Miss Maguire; couldn't you worm out what on earth all that whispering was about between Sarsfield and this buckram commander of yours? You might discover something to the purpose, and send word to Ginkell; for you may depend upon it Mahony will never dream of marrying you, and if Luttrell lives and succeeds in his project to take over the army to King William, he's to be made a peer, and his services and yours together may make you a duchess de facto yet! De jure you've been one already, you know, my dear girl!""

"Oh, don't bother me with your Latin; that's the difference between the two kings, isn't it? But it must be a mighty great one, too; for they used only to laugh at me when they called me Duchess Dick !' Well, I'll try what I can do; I've fished for tittlebats before now, Taafe, jewel! But, now, who's that Mahony's gabbling with yonder? Odds fish! as the Duke used to say, what a handsome, handsome boy !"

And, putting herself nearly half-way out of the coach-window in the eagerness of her curiosity, Mistress Maguire watched, with undissembled admiration glowing in her large black eyes, the nearer approach of a group which had for some time been tending towards her vehicle, among whom was a tall and almost beardless youth, whose other personal attributes more than justified the rapturous repetition of the epithet her appreciating judgment had applied. But as this "handsome, handsome boy!" is our hero, and the hero of some of the most famous warlike achievements of the illustrious Irish Brigade, not to mention the remarkable love story in which he figures so conspicuously, in no less unlikely a place than the records of the Spanish Inquisition at the commencement of the eighteenth century, we think it but due to the position of Phoenix O'Neil to bestow upon his entrée into our tale the honours of a new chapter.

436

SIBERIA.*

WE have here an account of seven years' rambling over a portion of our globe hitherto almost unknown to Europeans. It is an interesting evidence of an Englishman's ardour in the pursuit of a favourite occupation, for it appears that the author spent these years, and ran a good deal of risk, not to speak of his labour and pecuniary expenses, for the purpose of filling his portfolio with landscapes; and for this he extended his rambles from the boundary of Europe to the Eastern end of the Baikal, and into the Chinese territory, travelling over the Steppes on horseback, and bivouacking at times on the open plain, at times under a rock beside some lake, and more frequently lodging in the Yourt of some Kirghis chief; voyaging in boats or on rafts down rivers or along lakes, where the precipices rose sheer above the vessel, and where a sudden blast would be certain shipwreck; or driving four or six horses over rugged or marshy roads, in a species of box upon wheels, which was constantly sticking in the mud, and occasionally upsetting. He travelled altogether not less than 40,000 miles in these various ways, and he appears to have filled to some purpose a portfolio, which, we confess, we should be very glad to examine; for his volume contains views of scenery unsurpassed for grandeur and wild beauty-mountains "cleft abrupt in precipice," torrents roaring through magnificent gorges, primeval forests of dark pine trees, beneath whose foliage spreads a carpet of verdure, studded with beds of geraniums and clusters of magnificent peonies. Such are the features of some portions of the lands traversed by the author, while the almost boundless Steppes, covered with grass and flowers, and diversified with strange sandy tracts and salt lakes, surrounded by reeds so high that the horseman in vain tries to obtain a glimpse of the water which he knows is close to him, are not less novel and interesting.

We shall here extract the account of some features of scenery, which can only be depicted in words; and first, that of a tempest seen from the summit of Blagodat, a mountain in the Oural range, having on its peak a small chapel erected to the memory of a Vogul chief, who rejoiced in the name of Tchumpin, and who was sacrificed and burnt on these metallic rocks by his ferocious countrymen, as a reward for having made known to the Russians the mines of magnetic iron ore. Atkinson, while sketching on the mountain, observed the coming storm, and, placing his papers in the chapel, he says:

"I proceeded to the edge of the rocks, where I perceived that the storm had in its progress obscured the Oural chain in a thick black mass of clouds, tinged with red, from which the lightning leapt forth in wrathful flashes. I watched its onward course with intense anxiety, feeling certain that Blagodat would soon be enveloped in this fearful vapour. For a few minutes a great dread came over me, knowing that I was standing alone on a huge

"Oriental and Western Siberia." By T. W. Atkinson. London: Hurst and Blackett. 1858.