lines of which have now faded, but they were, perhaps, once the family badge of the owner of the mansion. Then there is, on either side, a semicircular sweep of wall, overgrown by ivy in some places; broken down in others, where the naked stones crumble without a covering from the green shroud in which nature loves to wrap decay. Then there is another tall, square pillar, with the mutilated animal on it; its fellow standing opposite, with top dismantled, and fully three feet deep of stone-and-mortar work lying at its foot. Between these giants, there is a low, rusty, iron gate, contrasting whimsically with its huge supporters. My guide placed a key in the lock, opened it, and we entered. The first thing that struck my attention was the lodge on a small eminence to my left the place of roses, woodbine, and more lowly flowers, usurped by the rankly-waving grass, stout thistles, hemlock, and deadly nightshade. We passed on, and paused before a huge old ash

"That's the big tree," said Boots, "where the young gentleman cut his own name, and the young lady's name. I'm tould it was the purtiest printin' in the country whin it was plain; but, to be sure, thim counsellors can do anything."

So saying, he pointed to several marks, where the tree's growth had completely filled up and swelled over what seemed to have been four letters and a waving line cut round them. I could not tell what they were; but I stopped a moment to look at them; for, trifling as they were, perhaps they formed the only memorials of a tale of true love and hapless destiny. Our next halt was at a place where the grass-grown path divides.

"That way," said Boots, pointing to the right, "goes acrass the brudge, and up fornint the house; but people like always to go up the glin first, thin crass the river, and thin over the fields to the house."

So he led the way along the latter path. The ground soon began to rise rapidly on either side, steeper and steeper. The river, widened and deepened by strong artificial dams, roared over them and the mounds that nature had placed in its career, and all the characters of a romantic glen were before me. The path had been cut in

some places out of the rock: here it swept close to the river-there it wound away among the thickly-planted trees and tangled brushwood, and again approached the edge of a waterfall once more. Every noise was in keeping with the scene: you heard nothing except the sullen plunge of the stream, the dash of a disturbed otter, or the scream and flapping wing of a scared water-hen. There was scarcely any sunbeam, as the trees from the opposite sides of the river almost mingled their dense foliage above, and made everything beneath characteristically sombre. My foot rustled through the fallen leaves that lay dead and dry upon the path, and when the voice was raised, it met an answering echo. A sense of desertion, decay, and loneliness, pervaded all with the pleasing melancholy which we do not wish to banish; and, though I would "scarcely start to meet a spirit there," I would not have wished the vacancy filled by the encounter of a human being. Again we paused before a large tree that had fallen across the river, a ton-weight of mould clinging round the uptorn roots, its dishonoured head resting on the opposite bank, and its trunk bridging the

stream.

"We'll have to crass here," said Boots; "for it's too far to go back, an' there's only the one bridge, an' the wather's no more nor tin feet deep; an' there's no fear o' fallin' in, if you stare right forninst you, an' don't look down."

Envying Boots' careless coolness, and not without many nervous misgivings, I made the perilous passage: all sense of the romantic banished for the time by the idea of ten feet of water, particularly as I cannot swim. We then ascended the opposite bank, where we got a sight of the house, terminating a long stretch of rich green pasture, which was studded here and there with lime-trees and horsechesnuts, and grazed over by a few horned cattle. We then passed a large square piece of water, covered thickly with sedge, duck-weed, and decayed leaves the very picture of green and stagnant neglect. A noble line of vast elms skirted it on one side, and stretched up towards the house; interspersed among them were shrubs and plants of dwarf growth, that dipped their

branches into the lake, and with their foliage hid the great stems of the leafy giants they surrounded. Not two hun

dred yards from the head of the lake stands the deserted mansion.

THE house itself is square in figure, three stories in height, of large dimensions and plain architecture. When I saw it, the grass was growing thickly up in the chinks between the stone steps that led to the entrance. The halldoor was decaying fast, for want of paint, and in some of the windows the destruction of glass had been so considerable, that the dull, worm-eaten shutters were fully exposed to the rain and winds of heaven. Boots placed a large rusty key in the door, and it required no small exertion of strength to force backward the harshly-grating bolt. My step inward was immediately answered by an echo so loud as almost to startle me, while the gust of air furiously waved the large black cobwebs, and alarmed the dark old spiders, who were growing more bloated month after month-though one might well wonder on what they fattened, their numbers were so great, and competition so extensive. A huge rat bounded across the hall from a doorway on my right hand, and disappeared through a hole that pierced the first step of the staircase.

"Oh, Prince-Prince, honey, where are you now?" ejaculated Boots. "Oh what hard luck was on me to come to the likes o' this place widout a tarrier."

So saying, he led the way into the room which the rat had left, and having opened a window-shutter, he stood looking on as I gazed about me. It was a large apartment, the plaster of its roof and walls lying upon the floor, or else hanging down in rotten shreds; and at first I could not help looking up instinctively, and treading lightly, fearful lest a mass of mortar should fall on my head. However, this feeling went off as I walked from room to room, and became familiarised to ruin's handwriting on every wall.

"This is the room, sir, where the first young lady died," said Boots, "'case they wouldn't let her marry the young gentleman; an' here's where the second gentleman was killed-that's the mark iv of his blood, an' the place

where his son wint mad whin he seen it; an' there," he added, when we went into another room and the hard, grey man shuddered and crossed himself as he spoke "there's the room where the last man pisoned the poor simple boy, and then died himself."

I examined all. There was nothing very remarkable in any, except in the second room, which looked as if it might have been used as a dressing-closet to the larger apartment with which it communicated; and in one corner of its floor, there is a dark, red stain, deeper, but like the unfading mark which shows where the minstrel secretary fell on the lobby of Holyrood.

And these walls have witnessed the last throbbings of woman's breaking heart, have seen deeds of violence and murder done within them, and night after night overlook the shadowy victims of a sad destiny, as they glide through the ruined room and decaying passage. My thoughts borrowed a heavy melancholy from the reflection; and though I left the time-worn hall with a slow and lingering step, I breathed more lightly, and with a feeling of relief, as I saw Boots turn the key, and heard the rusty bolt grate into its place.

It was a demesne of some antiquity, as was proved by the massy growth of its trees, and in the day of the spa's early celebrity, it was a very desirable residence for those families who did not care what money they expended in search of health. Several tenants had held and quitted it, unknown and unrecorded, before the first family of misfortune came and left their story after them, written in characters of

woe.

The head of the house was a gentleman to whom an ancient baronetage and its large estate had come down, in the transition of lineal right. He was a man of middle age and stately look, and his family consisted of a son and a daughter. Very different was the aspect of that house then, when it was made a temple of delight by the hands

of wealth. Soft loungers ministered to ease; thick carpets yielded under the tender foot; and sweet clocks struck the hours as they proceeded quietly and musically, as was properfor time should ever have a silvery and a Belial tone when it speaks to the ear of luxury and youth, beauty, rank, and wealth, visited by day, and thronged by night, the noble mansion. No decayed leaves, no tangled bushes, no weeds, were suffered to obstruct a path, or soil a delicate foot-for the beauty of the glen attracted the gay daughters of surrounding fashion; and they flitted, danced, laughed, sang, and listened to the soft love-tale among its thick shades, and beside the murmuring river.

The cottage I have before mentioned was also tenanted by a family of quiet, unassuming respectability-a gentleman and his wife, who were among the most regular attendants at the spa, in search of health and strength.

a

They had one son, who left the duties of his early professional career in the capital, to see his parents settled in their new abode; but it was remarked that his stay became more lengthened than was necessary for that purpose. They are his initials which are pointed out to the visitor on the bark of the great tree, and under them were cut those of the baronet's young and fair daughter. She loved him, and her love was returned; but the proud father heard of it-heard that the girl for whom he dreamt of nothing lower than coronet, had given her affections to a youth of no porcelain clay, and owner of no hereditary estate. In the first flush of his resentment, he spoke hasty words to the heir of his titled name, and the young man struck his sister's lover before a crowded room. People wondered that no revenge was demanded for the insult; but so it wasperhaps he could not lift the murderous weapon against her brother. However, it was soon known that he had gone abroad, where the armies of his king were suffering the hot march and the fiery battle, thirst, hunger, and death, for their country. And he joined to them as strong an arm and as bold a heart as any; and he fell in his first struggle the shivered hilt of his sword quivering in the stiffening right arm, and a broken flag-staff of the enemy in his left. They stripped him

after death, and found on his breast a small miniature of her he loved, bathed in the red blood which flowed from the fatal gash below it. And they buried him with a crowd of his slain comrades, and heaped a mound of clay over all, on which the sun fell by day, and the dew by night, and the grass was soon waving rankly over the soldiers' grave.

The proud father told to his daughter the news of his death-almost in exultation, because he supposed the path of degradation to his high house was now cut off for [ever, and his heart cared for little but its own

thoughtless pride. She fainted not, nor cried aloud, when the news was told her, but the silent darkness of blasted hope settled down upon her young heart. She could smile when she saw others smiling, though she scarcely knew the cause; but her's was only the mockery of joy; a vacant and mechanical wreathing of the features, which remained unnaturally long, and then slowly subsided into the usual calm, melancholy expression of her face. The grave physicians came, and ordered change of scene for the skilful among them saw that the heart was wearied, and knew too well the uselessness of medicine. But she firmly declined to leave her home, despite either entreaty or harshness, because, while there, she could often visit the place where she first met him who slept in a bloody grave on a foreign shore; and the walk thither was her only pleasure. When their son left them, his father and mother had quitted their house, and the echo was in their empty cottage, and ruin and wildness in their garden.

But there was one plant which she knew he loved; how often had he worn its blossoms and one of its flowers was almost his first timid offering of love to her. This plant had escaped the destruction which dealt with so many of its fellows. This she placed in a flower-pot, and brought it to her chamber. She watched the yellow colour of autumn becoming deeper and more deep, until it settled into the sapless hue of winter; and there was something like a faint twilight of hope in her mind, as she looked forward to spring, with the expectation that the plant would put forth its leaves greenly, and its blos

soms in time. But she had nursed it too warmly-too tenderly. The spring came; the tall trees and low shrubs put out their leaves, and the birds sang to welcome them; but there was no bursting bud, no lively green, on the plant in the maiden's chamber.

She pined more rapidly after that; the colour left her cheek, and was replaced by a cold paleness that soon yielded to the pink flush, which was faint at first, but grew deeper day by day. The slight, constant cough harassed her; the quickened

breathing heaved her bosom ; the deep streak of blood stained the whiteness of her handkerchief, and the slow hot fever rioted fatally within the broken temple of her fading frame. Her limbs grew more feeble, and at last she could walk no more, and took to the bed from which she was not to rise again; and (strange request !) before her senses reeled in their last delirium, she prayed that the clay which held the withered plant near her bed's head, should be first thrown upon her coffin.

They said her father showed little sign of feeling when she died, for people used to talk frequently and significantly of her attachment; and to him the bitterness was in the thought, that any one should suppose a daughter of his house had died of love and sorrow for a comparatively humblyborn man. The cause of her death

was a heavier blow to his pride than was her loss to his affection. However, his arms were blazoned on her coffin, and glittering mountings were placed on its velvet covering; and there were keener looks at the form of panel and escutcheon, than at the few words which told how the tenant of the gorgeous shell died in her eighteenth year. She was buried, and forgotten for the time; because the

heir of the house was the accepted lover of a lady of high rank and great wealth in the North of Ireland, and it would not do to postpone the bridal very long, on account of the brokenhearted girl's death.

The young man was at his intended bride's home, and the father was preparing to set out, to be present at the marriage. But the day before his purposed start, a spurred and booted messenger entered the hall, that was thronged with trunks and packages, to tell him he was a childless man. son and future daughter-in-law had sailed, with one attendant, to pass a few hours of a fine summer's day on the lake near the young lady's house. A sudden squall filled the sail of the tiny vessel, which bowed over and

His

sunk; the youth went down at once, after a short struggle. The boatman could easily have reached the shore, for his arm was strong, and his body buoyant in the water as a sea-bird's, but the lady clung to his neck and shoulders, with that fierce energy which makes iron of the feeblest sinew when the struggle is for life and death. The assistance that came from the strand was barely in time to save them, but was too late to be of use to the young man. The strong, whirling eddy of his convulsive descent was gone; and over him the lake's bosom was as calm as ever, after the last bubble of his breathing had burst upon the surface.

The father delayed not a moment in reaching the scene of his loss; and when the end of his journey was gained, it was remarked that his hair seemed to have got a white tinge which it wanted before. There was a concourse of people round the small hut, near the edge of the lake, where the body was lying, and the inquest's judicial ceremony had just ended. He rushed through them-that old man ; for, though he was not very far gone

in life, a century of mental misery and woe had swept over his heart in the two last days, and made him older than the man upon whose crown Providence has suffered a hundred tranquil years to write their natural wrinkles. And the first distinct sight which his eye took in, was his son's body. There was no light under the heavy lid, no motion in the swollen limb, for corruption's foul finger was beginning to dabble over the manly beauty of his frame, with its livid and ghastly stains. The father could shed no tear to relieve his loaded heart and glazed eye; but, with a wild stare and a heavy groan, he fell senseless to the ground. For a long time he lay in the bed of sickness and care, but roused himself at last, when he got a marble monument erected to his son's memory, in the retired churchyard where he slept. He then left the country himself, and soon died, after which his wealth and title passed to a distant relative, and his place knew him again no more at all for

ever.

Such were the fortunes of the first of "The Three Last Tenants."