Sir!" said Ma'mselle, resenting this attack on her favourite author. "How far, pray, are we to consider Lady Lytton as an authority?" "She is a woman of undoubted talent," rejoined the baronet, "as she has already shown by her writings. Her ideas are generally good, and, for one of her age, remarkably so; and her style is natural and lively, and sufficiently epigrammatic, without being too much so.” "I think," said Ma'mselle," that England is quite as remarkable for suicides and adulteries, as any other country." "I grieve, Ma'am, that I cannot deny the justice of your remark. But, then, we are obliged to be a little careful in what way we write about them. The truth is, that the rapid growth of these vices is the natural result of extreme luxury. Like Rome in her latter days, England, being arrived at the highest pitch of artificial refinement, is becoming, in spite of a purer and holier religion, grossly sensual. The Bible is no longer, as formerly, read and studied by the world of fashion, nor by the world of business. Nay, so great is the mock delicacy of some of our modern fine ladies, that it puts their modesty to the blush, only to hear those passages read in church which the really chaste maids and matrons of the good old times, when suicide and adultery were a novelty and a wonder, listened to with a holy piety, that casteth out shame." "At this moment, the sun broke out in all the grandeur of his departing glory; and all eyes were suddenly attracted to the beautiful panorama which lay stretched out before them, as the vessel now entered the far-famed Bay of Dublin. As she bounded along, her broad sails dancing to the music of the light evening breeze, the hearts of the two sisters seemed also to bound within them, with that joyous feeling which the thought of new pleasures imparts to the youthful bosom. "The entrance into the harbour of Dublin," remarked the baronet," is said to be one of the finest in the world. It has even been compared to the celebrated Bay of Naples; although, as an admirable writer observes, the latter has the undoubted superiority, not only from its possessing features of the most extraordinary beauty and classical contour, but deriving a terrific grandeur from its vicinity to Mount Vesuvius."" "I am exceedingly glad, Sir," said O'Fogarty," that we had daylight enough left to allow to you and the young ladies, and likewise to you, my dear Madam" (turning, and bowing profoundly to the baroness), " a view of this beautiful bay, which I consider to be one of the finest of the many fine scenes that Ireland presents to the notice of a stranger; and I am quite delighted, Sir, that you appear so fully to appreciate it. Ah, my darling country!" (apostrophizing the lovely shores they were now rapidly approaching,)" though I have often quitted you for a time, it has always been with a sigh of regret; and I am Irishman enough to say, that whenever I get sight of you again, my heart dances within me to a merry tune.” "Ah! just like the ups and downs of life," rejoined Sir Monk. "Partings and meetings, sorrow and joy, alternately succeed each other, in this chequered state." Here O'Fogarty began to hum to himself the following song, gradually giving greater scope and compass to his voice as he proceeded, on seeing that those who surrounded him were attracted by the display of his vocal ability: Good night!-good night! 'tis even so, And friends that love the best must part: Good night! When O'Fogarty had concluded, and the last note had died away upon the waters, all were unanimous in their praises of his vocal skill; and the baroness declared to Ma'mselle Lippert, with a suppressed sigh, that Mr. Fogarty had " the sweetest and most betwitching voice" she had ever heard! As Sir Monk and his party were about to leave the ship, the little baroness expressed so much regret at the parting, that the warm-hearted old baronet politely assured her the regret was mutual; and begged that if she should travel in the direction of Castle Craig, while he was there, she would not pass without paying him a visit. This she promised to do, and with every appearance of intending to be faithful to her word. "Many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip!" says the old adage; which, on the present occasion, might have been relieved of a little of its triteness by substituting, for the latter part of it, 'twixt the shore and the ship!" Just as the passengers were in the act of disembarking, an accident occurred which, but for the timely interposition of a brave tar, might have silenced poor O'Fogarty's melodious notes for ever. As he was tenderly assisting the baroness down the ladder, he, in his anxiety to secure her safe descent, lost his own balance, and tumbled headlong into the water. The ladies screamed, the men shouted, and all was confusion. In a moment a sailor, who could swim like a duck, threw off his jacket, and, plunging in after the luckless lawyer, fortunately succeeded in dragging him, almost dead with fright, to the side of a barge, into which a dozen hands were readily extended to lift him. So strange, however, was the metamorphosis which he had undergone by his brief immersion, that Sir Monk and his grand-daughters could hardly, despite their sympathy, refrain from laughing. When O'Fogarty fell into the faithless element, he had a luxuriant crop of hair on the crown of his head-when he again emerged, it was with a bald pate. The fact was, that the legal Adonis, having resorted in vain to those quacks, whose advertisements fill our newspapers and empty our pockets, had at length adopted the last and most effectual expedient, by which middle-aged gentlemen can hope to "hide their diminished heads," a well-frizzled toupet, the strings of which, being passed behind the ears, were tied under the chin, where a natural boa of hair hid them from view. Unfortunately, in the first grapple the gallant tar had with the drowning man, the toupet fell off, but not into the water, for the Maltese button of Jack's shirt-sleeve caught in the network upon which the skilful barber had wrought his coronary curls; and thus the toupet, like its master, rose again, clinging to the arm of a British sailor-a prouder support of England's glory than the Lord Chancellor, with all the lawyers in his train. When the baroness saw the bald pate of O'Fogarty, she burst out into a loud lamentation. "Oh, my cootness! See how poor Mr. O'Fogarty has been hurt! All his hair is pulled out by de very roots! Oh, my cootness!" This sympathetic exclamation seemed at once to recall O'Fogarty's wondering senses, which had necessarily been a little dissipated by his sudden immersion, and the alarm which it had unavoidably occasioned. Instinctively raising his hand to his head, and feeling its denuded state, the first words which he uttered, on finding himself once more in safety, were-" Where is my hat?" The hat, however, had by this time floated away to a considerable distance; on learning which, O'Fogarty, with a trembling anxiety to conceal the loss of those surreptitious honours which had so recently crowned him, tied a pockethandkerchief round his head, by way of a temporary substitute. This tended so little to improve his personal appearance, that the suppressed smiles of some of those who had flocked round. him began, now that he was safe, and evidently not the worse for his ducking, to relax into something like broad grins. From all, however, he received the most hearty congratulations, on his escape from the recent danger. And now the honest tar, who had happily been the means of saving O'Fogarty's life, having first shaken himself like a waterdog, resumed his jacket, and, with his glazed hat between both hands, advanced at the summons of Sir Monk. Mark Dillon was a young man, stoutly built, with a fine, handsome, ingenuous face, and that bold, but not impudent air, that characterizes the true British seaman. "You're a fine fellow," said Sir Monk; " and here's something to drink the Queen's health." "God bless your Honour, and thank you!" said Mark; "I'll drink yours too, and the young ladies', as soon as I gets ashore." And Mark ducked his head, and resuming his hat, was going, when O'Fogarty called to him. "You must accept this, and my best thanks, for the service you have rendered me," offering him at the same time a gratuity. "No, thank ye, Sir! I don't want to be paid for doing a good turn to a fellow-creatur." "I shall feel affronted by your refusal, Jack!" said O'Fogarty, forcing the money upon the honest tar; who, as he pocketed it, suddenly exclaimed "God bless my soul! I'd clean forgot all about it." And fumbling in his breast, he pulled out what appeared like a bit of sea-weed. "The gentleman's wig, you see, Marm" (addressing the baroness, who stood by), " will do as well as ever, when it's dry. It catched in my shirt-button, or 'twould have been lost, for sartin." This most unexpected apparition of the toupet, quite upset the philosophy of O'Fogarty. It was as bad, if not worse, than the loss of it had been. He turned his eyes, with an expression not quite grateful enough, upon the preserver of both life and wig. Our sailor, who happily knew nothing of those fine feelings which make gentlemen often ashamed of the very things that contribute most to their comfort or inward complacency, continued: "I thought I must have given in when it came off; but, by good luck, I catched hold of the right hair at last. If so be as the gentleman had had a whole wig, instead of this bit of a stopgap, it might 'a gone hard with him; for he warn't good to catch at, being too much frightened to help himself. But you see, Marm, he's got a main bit o' hair behind—so I kept good hold that." "Thank you-thank you, my good fellow!" said O'Fogarty, who now longed to be rid of him; "I shall always remember your services with gratitude.” "Thank ye, Sir! you be right welcome." The baroness now drew out her purse, saying, "Here, my coot man, take dis, for saving de life of Mr. Fogarty." Mark, bowing his thanks, made his exit; and was soon seen climbing like a squirrel up the side of the ship, to join his merry mates upon deck. |