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‘chap forninst you pretinds he’s sleepin’ for no

did I take private o ‘whose distant bow cS

without suspicion. ‘I'rue, rotundity of his figure; an

place of the original red frequently awoke my childish terror, and interrupted m

. priest was no other than Dr. Sullivan.

uring dinner he spoke little, and seemed to pay even ‘less attention to all that passed around him, like one ‘whose mind was either benumbeé or abstracted ; and when the wine — to circulate freely and the gentle-

men were left to

bottle.

We had reached that point at which the then perilous, but all-engrossing subject of politics became the order of the day. Wine had warmed our hearts, and in the security supposed to exist “ under the rose,” public men and measures were discussed after a free and easy fash- ion; for Mr. Fitsmaurice had already left us, and the company were Liberals to a man, with the exception of his reverence, whose politics were by this time known or cared for only in the land of dreams. Mr. Dillon had forgotten his habitual prudence, and entered into con-

‘ versation with Desmond, who seemed to know his ground, and rejoice in the opportunity of denouncing in-

justice in high places. I had caught fire from some of his remarks, which called up recollections of recent and not easily forgot-

ten scenes of government vengeance, and was expres- sing my own feelings, perhaps, with more of the fervour

of youth than sound judgment might have warranted, when my words were arrested by a low voice whisper- ing in my ear, “ Have a care of what you say, sir: that od!” and, glancing behind, I saw Mr. Dillon’s old butler rnoving slowly from my chair.

None but myself had heard the warning, and instinc- tively I fixed my eyes on Dr. Donovon. He still ap- peared to be in profound sleep; but, on closer observa- tion, I could perceive that the butler was correct, for his eyes were alert, and glancing from one-speaker to another through the fingers that covered them. For some minutes I was puzzled. It was said my ‘former teacher had been intended in his youth for the Catholic church, but some breach of discipline had raised a bar- rier in his way, and he had turned to the usual resource of school-keeping. What had been his after-vocations I never knew, but it was evident that he had now more more employment on hands than that of his clerical character.

‘{t was my first introduction to the system of spion- -age, then so terribly prevalent, and, combirted with sun- -dry recollections of his school day performances, it sug- gested an association of ideas regarding Dr. Donovan

and my pocket-pistols, but that work was destined for

another hand; and, in the meantime, I found some diffi- culty in communicating the intimation to the rest of the company, so as not to attract the attention of the would- be slumberer, who still snored on most industriously,

while he watched our every motion from between his

fingers. esnenl was the first to understand my sR - n the rest they told with different effects; seme became sud- denly silent, others endeavoured to qualify their former speeches, and Mr. Dillon proposed to rejoin the ladies.

We accordingly adjourned to the drawing-room, and

talked on with a boldness that surprised me.

THE EXAMINER.

rtunities of examining the man|remain so, though my first employment came ina strange

, esmond and myself h like the veriest strangers, and my frtend, at Deeteares viiees ne

About a month after my introduction, half the city

there was an increase in the|and all Merrion Square were set in motion by a ball at

; . d an expression of most sanc-|the h f Mr. Fi i timonious hypocrisy had been added to the stupid grav- fap crtndenat gn sonny ©

ity of his face; black hair and whiskers had taken the

use OF : It was given in honour of a distinguished relative, who stood still higher than

himself in the legal department, and had lately aug-

; but the voice, which had so| mented his honours by winning an English and a-titled * *

' bride. . boyish sports, was not to be mistaken ; and before the .

‘cloth was removed, I felt convinced that the converted

Geraldine had chosen a capital position, and was even magnificently’ dressed; hy the way she was always dressed well, though in a style considered too rich and grave for her youthful appearance. But I was not alone in my lateness, for at the same moment, the lion and (with all deference, ladies) the lioness of the night ad- vanced to make their compliments, and all eyes were

emselves, I could not help specuiat- \ ] ing on the deadening power of years; when the old as ee nadtecaen teen

who had always manifested a striking partiality for » strong waters, gradually began to nod, first to one side, then to the other, and eventually dropped asleep, with his ‘head upon the table, about the conclusion of the first

Her ladyship was, in manners and appearance, rather an every-day-looking person, with a few diamonds and a trifle of London starch, which contrasted not much to her advantage with the distinguished air and superior tone of Geraldine Fitsmaurice: but her fortune was said to have been £20,000.

Mr. Copeland was a tall, fine looking man, whose face told of prudence that could thread its way through the byways of political intrigue or worldly interest with a step which no impulse could hurry and no scruple re- tard. Moreover, he had been born and educated in Scotland; but the steadiest step at times will lose its balance: and though onthe sober side of thirty, the flourishing of Mr. Copeland’s bridal days was not yet over, of which he gave us an instance by pulling out his handkerchief rather “rampagiously” (pardon the Irish- ism), and I saw a small note, which came with it un- perceived by the entleman, drop at Geraldine’s feet; the next men® that small foot was upon it, and near- erand nearert !ady drew the prize under her shelter- ing garments. .‘s she sunk gracefully into her seat, and hoped that “Lady Sarah would be able to enjoy herself even in the wilderness which Dublin society inust present to one who had left St. James’s”, her fan dropped, of course accidentally, as she spoke, and before I had time (now, readers, my gallantry was never sus- pected), Geraldine had picked it up herself, with the re- mark that she was learning to act her own cavalier by way of preparation for a tour in the north, which her uncle intended to make next season; but the note was taken up between her fingers and its scarce whiter ivory.

Never had Geraldine appeared to such advantage in doing the honours of her uncle’s house ; and, in the flow of her mirth, my thoughts reverted to Desmond.

(To be concluded next week.)

THE BACHELOR.

BY A LADY OF RANK.

The bachelor lonely, depressed :

No gentle one near him, no home to endear him ;

In sorrow to cheer him, no friend, if no guest ; ’

No children to climb up; ’twould fill all my rhyme up,

And take too much time up, to tell his despair ;

Cross ener ner meeting him, cheating him, beating im ;

Bills paying, maids scouring, devouring his fare.

He has no one to put on a sleeve or neck button ;

Shirts mangled to rags, drawers stringless at knee ;

The cook to his grief, too, spoils pudding and beef, too:

With over-done, under-done—undone is he.

No son still a treasure, in business or leisure ;

No daughter with pleasure, new joys to prepare ;

But old maids and cousins, kind souls! rush in dozens,

Relieving him soon of his bachelor’s fare.

He calls children apes, sir, (the fox and the grapes, sir,)

And fain would he wed when his locks are like snow;

But widows throw scorn out, and tell him he’s worn out;

most ready to burst forth. The Austrians having, in violation of the treaty of Vienna, continued to occupy by their troops the city as weli as the citadal of Ferrara, the reports put forth ‘incessantly oftheir evacuation of the town being false rumours, merely to gain time and cover their'ultimate designs ; the Pope has ordered the arming of the civic guard, and has despatched an artil- lery officer to Francé to purchase 10,000 muskets. In the meantime, a report’ has been circulated at Paris which has caused great excitement. It is said that the British Government, having ascertained that an understanding exists between France and Austria,’‘has ordered the English fleet to proceed to Ancona and land a couple of regiments drawn from the Ionian Islands. This step is, indeed, just the sort of brilliant exploit which Lord Palmerston would glory to achieve. France, after the example of her occupation of Ancona just subsequent to Louis Phillippe’s accession to the throne, could not raise a word of objection, and the liberal party, indeed the whole body of the people throughout France, would envy this a act on the part of England, whilst they could not refuse to applaud it. The disappearance of our fleet from the coast of Portugal, whence it pro- ceeded to the‘Mediterranean, would thus be satisfac- torily accounted for. A demonstration on the part of England would doubtless put an end at once to the Austrian encroachments, effectually support the Pope, and give France an opportunity of retracing the insidi- ous policy she seems disposed to adopt.

The King of Prussia has proceeded’on a visit to Italy. The sympathy displayed by the Germans in the Italian and Swiss disputes, which they think will eventually conduce to religious freedom in Germany, must natural- ly render it in affair of deep interest to King Frederick William,that the cause of civil and religious libertyshould not be crushed in Italy. “The King of Sardinia has, it is said, taken the same view as England respecting the encroachments of Autsria, and has, togéther with the Princes of Wirtemburg, Bavaria, and Baden, joined inan alliance with Great Britain to resist ‘Austrian aggresion.

LOYAL NATIONAL REPEAL ASSOCIATION.

The usual weekly meeting of the Association was held on Monday. Cencilliation Hall was densely crowded, and amongst the gentlemen occupying places set apart for members ofthe general’ committee were several clergymen and dignitaries. “J. Augustus O’ Neil, Esq, took the chair. ,

The Cuarrman addressed the meeting on the subject of the Kildare election, and defended himself from the calumnies that had been uttered against him. He then gave several instances of the devoted conduct of the poorer electors to the cause of their cottntry. Remar- king on the conduct of Sir Gerald Aylmer, the Protes- tant coloniser, he said~I dont’t mean‘to speak of the Protestant religion otherwise than with: great respect. I know something of that religion, for was a Protes- tant myself, and the basis of it is the right of private judgment. Why does not- Sir Gerald Aylmer, the Protestant coioniser, allow the right of private judgment to his tenants in voting? Ifinso important a matter as the salvation of his soul a man’ is tobe left to his private judgment, how is it that he isnot supposed to have intellect enough to discriminate between the diffe- rent candidates who offer ‘themselves at an election, and to decide for himself which of them is right and which wrong-—which of them is the friend of Ireland and which isnot? Ifa man have'judgment and intel- lect enough to choose his religion out of the Bible, should he not have enough to enable him to vote at an election ? Let any Protestant coloniser in Ireland who coerces his tenants answer that question.

Mr. Joun O’Connetit—I feel certain‘I but speak the sentiments of this Association—and I am sure the country will unanimously respond to these sentiments— nt declare that it was altogether unnecessary for Mr. O'Neill to enter into any defence whatever of his

And maidens, deriding, ery— No, my love, no!” ! " } were shortly followed by the doctor, whom I heard the} oq age aon with ota with se de with furrow ;| high character, against any of the foul — ts butler rousing with the observation, “God help them) No hope in to-morrow, no sympathy spares; _ it was vainly sought . — . it. m Loud ¢ — that has great head-work! shure it’s no wonther that And, when unfit to rise up, he looks to the skies up; His character stood d too hig “oy = avin ean Sh res whee ered otal posteenre] ome mem nner one onl sion? [SCONES SoA li cntceeaamemeemest siesta seeme ave recruited the reverend gentleman = |ted an obi | re powers of conversation, for he now prosed away inces- our respect—which he did not—the bold, patriotic, onthe and grew particularly attentive to Desmond, who POLES ‘AQ NEW SS and independent part which he took at the Kildare rather encouraged = gaged yet a wud a : ——- noe x eae ae is true = = roke up atan earlier hour an . : avs before he went te > perfect] | be ‘ho avmie al his fame patroness remaining to ASPECT OF AFFAIRS IN EUROPE. a of the fact that there was a majority _—— him, -the very last. It is impossible to regard the events now in progress/and that he could not be returned unless ‘fe had the On our way home, Desmond and I conversed much of|in the South of Europe without some feelings of appre-| Duke of Leinster enlisted in his favour—yet, he ot ‘th ; ing’s discovery. I had been struck with my|hension for the results. Greece is in open rebellion|‘I don’t care for myself—I will go to the contest, and fi < a's fi rless manner when it was made, but my as-| against the Government of Coletti, the wretched tool of} will test the county of Kildare.’ (Loudcheers.) Other oe “ was still greater to find that he regarded the| France ; and the policy so long pursued by M. Guizot,| gentlemen in other parts of the ‘country havenobly vin- eedieaae convert a bloodhound on his track, and|to render French influence predominant in Greece, will| dicated the‘cause of Repeal; but I must say that the bat

ee aa

ked who must fall,|end, probabiy, in the overthrow of M. Coletti, and may oe an ee the saves wake surround- not. stop short of getting rid of the present incapable

ed him.

sovereign. In Switzerland we perceive no immediate

tered, though he/solution of the rancorous dispute now raging amongst eit cotaned ee ce the aewenne 'to serenioe her distracted population. ‘The Sonderbund, or Catholic

him; yeta suspicious whisper had gone forth from Mr.

League, is ready to fall upon the Federal cantons, and

Dillon’s dining room, and the doctor did not now often|so great is the excitement that we expect each day that

dine out; yet, amid the daily increase of associates

_and acquaintances, growing popularity with the ladies, the Allied Powers to compose this intestine quarrel

—-oh, how magnified it was in letters to coun

—and the special fevour of Mr. Fitsmaurice bestowed ances, truckled to Austria in this

friends! |seems hopeless, France having, according to all appear-

affair, with a view to

for the sake of the profession,—I charitably be-|conciliate the favourable disposition of that power to- eee: bb Seats other sdnity ene shadow still re-| wards Louis Phillippe’s insane schemes after Spanish

mained, for I was yet briefless, but destined not to|dominion. But it isin ‘Htaly where the flame scems

ee Cg eed Bae or ite,

eae

tle of Repeal in Kildare, taking all the circumstances connected with it into consideration, was one of the most glorious that'has been fought. (Cheers.) This system of calumny is most disreputable and wretched. And yet Whigs and Tories have given us examples of it. The moment Mr. M‘Tavish came forward as a can- didate for Dundalk a foul calumny wes set on foot

the parties will come to blows. The joint influence of|against him ; aye, and that too from @ high quarter, but

owing to the indomitable spirit and. ism of the men of Dundalk, Repeal succeeded. (Cheers.) But Whigs and Tories have not defeated Mr. O’Neill—he was defeated by the neglect of Liberals in not ha attended ‘to the registries. Mr. O’Neill has talked resigning, but I trust that the people of Ireland will not