I to struggle for the composure of feelings that will permit me to recur with pleasure to all the endearing recollections which restore to me my friend, unalloyed with gloom or repining. There are few to whom time does not at length bring this tranquillity-he is the wisest who can reach it soonest. shall let death rob me of as little as I can. If he take the body that I loved, I shall not suffer him to mar my spirit's intercourse with that of the departedwith that I shall hold converse in my lonely rambles and in the watches of the night. I will cling to all the endearing and enduring memories that make it oftentimes sweeter to think upon the dead than to commune with the living. And so, dear Anthony, I will sing you THE MEMORIES OF THE DEAD. I. Weep not for the dead! Thy sighs and tears are unavailing; II. Weep not for the dead; But oh! weep sore for those remaining, Shall fill our aching hearts and eyes; III. As stars through dark skies stealing, As tongues of sweet bells pealing, So, on the spirit streaming, A solemn light is shed; And long-loved tones come teeming IV. As clouds drawn up to heaven Sweetest from bruised flowers, The wounded heart o'erspread, The memories of the dead. Adieu, dear Anthony, for the present-" sis memor mei." If y you will think of me hereafter, when I have passed away, as I fondly trust you will-for my space is short, but thine is a lengthened one, and I hope my children's children will see thee every month in thy buff-think of me on some sweet autumn evening, when the heaven promises a bright morrow-when your heart is mellow, and your spirit is jocund. Think of me, my friend, at "THE FALL OF THE LEAF."-Ever, in life and in death, yours, To Anthony Toplar, Esq. JONATHAN FREKE SLINGSBY. MAURICE TIERNAY, THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE. CHAPTER XVI. "AN OLD GENERAL OF THE IRISH BRIGADE.' 66 "No, sir-my great grandfather." "Parbleu! that is going very far back. Are you aware of the causes which induced him to leave his native country?" "They were connected with political troubles, I've heard, sir. He took part against the English, my father told me, and was obliged to make his escape to save his life." "You then hate the English, Maurice ?" "My grandfather certainly did not love them, sir." "Nor can you, boy, ever forgive their having exiled your family from country and home: every man of honour retains the memory of such injuries." "I can scarcely deem that an injury, sir, which has made me a French citizen," said I, proudly. "True, boy-you say what is perfectly true and just; any sacrifice of fortune or patrimony is cheap at such a price; still you have suffered a wrong -a deep and irreparable wrong—and as a Frenchman you are ready to avenge it." Although I had no very precise notion, either as to the extent of the hardships done me, nor in what way I was to demand the reparation, I gave the assent he seemed to expect. "You are well acquainted with the language, I believe?" continued he. "I can read and speak English tolerably well, sir." "But I speak of Irish, boy-of the language which is spoken by your fellow-countrymen," said he, rebukingly. "I have always heard, sir, that this has fallen into disuse, and is little known, save among the peasantry in a few secluded districts." He seemed impatient as I said this, and referred once more to the paper before him, from whose minutes he appeared to have been speaking. "You must be in error, boy. I find here that the nation is devotedly attached to its traditions and its literature, and feels no injury deeper than the insulting substitution of a foreign tongue for their own noble language.' Of myself I know nothing, sir; the little I have learned was acquired when a mere child." "Ah, then you probably forget, or may never have heard the fact; but it is as I tell you. This, which I hold here, is the report of a highly-distinguished and most influential personage, who lays great stress upon the circumstance. I am sorry, Tiernay, very sorry, that you are unacquainted with the language." He continued for some minutes to brood over this disappointment, and at last returned to the paper before him. The geography of the countrywhat knowledge have you on that subject?" 66 "No more, sir, than I may possess of other countries, and merely learned from maps." 66 "Bad again," muttered he to himself. Madyett calls these essentials; but we shall see." Then addressing me, he said, “ Tiernay, the object of my present interrogatory is to inform you that the Directory is about to send an expedition to Ireland to assist in the liberation of that enslaved people. It has been suggested that young officers and soldiers of Irish descent might render peculiar service to the cause, and I have selected you for an opportunity which will convert those worsted epaulets into bullion." This at least was intelligible news, and now I began to listen with more attention. "There is a report," said he, laying down before me a very capacious manuscript, "which you will carefully peruse. Here are the latest pamphlets setting forth the state of public opinion in Ireland; and here are va 462 Maurice Tierna, the Soldier of Fortune. rious maps "I am ready to do so at once, sir," "Well said, boy; I like your ar- "Is the expedition so nearly ready, He nodded, and with a significant admonition as to secrecy, dismissed me, bursting with anxiety to examine the stores of knowledge before me, and prepare myself with all the details of a plan in which already I took the liveliest interest. Before the week expired, I received an answer from the minister, accepting the offer of my services. The reply found me deep in those studies, which I scarcely could bear to quit even at meal-times. Never did I experience such an all-devouring passion for a theme as on that occasion. "Ireland' never left my thoughts; her wrongs and sufferings were everlastingly before me; all the cruelties of centuries-all the hard tyranny of the penal laws-the dire injustice of caste oppression-filled me with indignation and anger; while, on the other hand, I conceived the highest admiration of a people who, undeterred by the might and power of England, resolved to strike a great blow for liberty. The enthusiasm of the people-the ardent darings of a valour whose im. petuosity was its greatest difficultytheir high romantic temperament their devotion-their gratitude-the child-like trustfulness of their natures, were all traits, scattered through the various narratives, which invariably attracted me, and drew me strongly to their cause-even from affection than reason. more [Oct. Madyett's memoir was filled with these, and he, I concluded, must know them well, being, as it was asserted, one of the ancient nobility of the land, and who now desired nothing better than to throw rank, privilege, and title into the scale, and do battle for the liberty and equality of his countrymen. How I longed to see this great man, whom my fancy arrayed in all the attributes he so lavishly bestowed upon his countrymen, for they were not only, in his description, the boldest and the bravest, but the handsomest people of Europe. As to the success of the enterprise, whatever doubts I had at first conceived, from an estimate of the immense resources of England, were speedily solved, as I read of the enormous preparations the Irish had made for the struggle. The Roman Catholics, Madyett said, were three millions, the Dissenters another million, all eager for freedom and French alliance, wanting nothing but the appearance of a small armed force to give them the necessary organisation and discipline. They were somewhat deficient, he acknowledged, in fire-arms— they had none whatever; but the character of the country, which consisted of mountains, valleys, ravines and gorges, reduced war to the mere chivalrous features of personal encoun ter. -cannon What interminable descriptions did I wade through of clubs and associations, the very names of which were a puzzle to me-the great union of all appearing to be a society called Defenders," whose oath bound them to " fidelity to the united nations of France and Ireland." For the So much for the one side. vernment. That the enterprise contained every the wrongs to avenge, but the courage, the energy, and the daring. Their oppressors were as weak as tyrannical, their cause was a bad one, and their support of it a hollow semblance of superiority. If I read these statements with ardour and avidity, one lurking sense of doubt alone obtruded itself on my reasonings. Why, with all these guarantees of victory, with everything that can hallow a cause, and give it stability and strength-why did the Irish ask for aid? If they were, as they alleged, an immense majority-if their's was all the heroism and the daring-if the struggle was to be maintained against a miserably inferior force, weakened by age, incapacity, and disaffection-what need had they of Frenchmen on their side. The answer to all such doubts, however, was "the Irish were deficient in organisation.” Not only was the explanation a very sufficient one, but it served in a high degree to flatter our vanity. We were, then, to be organisers of Ireland; from us were they to take the lessons of civilisation, which should prepare them for freedom-ours was the task to discipline their valour, and train their untaught intelligence. Once landed in the country, it was to our standard they were to rally; from us were to go forth the orders of every movement and measure; to us this new land was to be an El dorado. Madyett significantly hinted everywhere at the unbounded gratitude of Irishmen ; and more than hinted at the future fate of certain confiscated estates. One phrase, ostentatiously set forth in capitals, asserted that the best general of the French Republic could not be anywhere employed with so much reputation and profit. There was, then, everything to stimulate the soldier in such an enterprise-honour, fame, glory, and rich rewards were all among the prizes. It was when deep in the midst of these studies, poring over maps and reports, taxing my memory with hard names, and getting off by heart dates, distances, and numbers, that the order came for me to repair at once to Paris, where the volunteers of the expedition were to assemble. My rank of sergeant had been confirmed, and in this capacity, as "sous officier," I was ordered to report myself, to General Kilmaine, the Adjutant-General of the expedition, then living in the "Rue Chantereine." I was also given the address of a certain Lestaing-Rue Tarbout-a tailor, from whom, on producing a certificate, I was to obtain my new uniform. Full as I was of the whole theme, thinking of the expedition by day, and dreaming of it by night, I was still little prepared for the enthusiasm it was at that very moment exciting in every society of the capital. For some time previous a great number of Irish emigrants had made Paris their residence; some were men of good position and ample fortune; some were individuals of considerable ability and intelligence. All were enthusiastic, and ardent in temperament devotedly attached to their country -hearty haters of England, and proportionately attached to all that was French. These sentiments, coupled with a certain ease of manner, and a faculty of adaptation, so peculiarly Irish, made them general favorites in society; and long before the Irish question had found any favour with the public, its national supporters had won over the hearts and good wishes of all Paris to the cause. Well pleased, then, as I was, with my handsome uniform of green and gold, my small chapeau, with its plume of cock's feathers, and the embroidered shamrock on my collar, I was not a little struck by the excitement my first appearance in the street created. Accustomed to see a hundred strange military costumes-the greater number, I own, more singular than tasteful-the Parisians, I concluded, would scarcely notice mine in the crowd. Not so, however; the print-shops had already given the impulse to the admiration, and the "Irish Volunteer of the Guard" was to be seen in every window, in all the "glory of his bravery." The heroic character of the expedition, too, was typified by a great variety of scenes, in which the artist's imagination had all the credit. In one picture the "jeune Irlandais" was planting a national flag of very capacious dimensions on the summit of his native mountains; here he was storming "Le chateau de Dublin," a most formidable fortress perched on a rock above the sea; here he was crowning the heights of "La citadelle de Cork," a very Gibraltar in strength; or he was haranguing the native chief, tains, a highly picturesque group-a cross between a knight crusader and a south-sea islander. My appearance, therefore, in the streets was the signal for general notice and admiration, and more than one compliment was uttered, purposely loud enough to reach me, on the elegance and style of my equipment. In the pleasant flurry of spirits excited by this Hattery, I arrived at the general's quarters in the Rue Chantereine. It was considerably before the time of his usual receptions, but the glitter of my epaulets, and the air of assurance I had assumed, so far imposed upon the old servant who acted as valet, that he at once introduced me into a small saloon, and after a brief pause presented me to the general, who was reclining on a sofa at his breakfast. Although far advanced in years, and evidently broken by bad health, General Kilmaine still preserved traces of great personal advantages, while his manner exhibited all that polished ease and courtesy which was said to be peculiar to the Irish gentleman of the French court. Addressing me in English, he invited me to join his meal; and on my declining, as having already breakfasted, he said, "I perceive, from your name, we are countrymen; and as your uniform tells me the service in which you are engaged, we may speak with entire confidence. Tell me then, frankly, all that you know of the actual condition of Ireland.” Conceiving that this question applied to the result of my late studies, and was meant to elicit the amount of my information, I at once began a recital of what I had learned from the books and reports I had been reading. My statistics were perfect-they had been gotten off by heart; my sympathies were, for the same reason, most eloquent; my indignation was boundless on the wrongs I deplored, and in fact, in the fifteen minutes during which he permitted me to declaim without interruption, I had gone through the whole "cause of Ireland," from Henry II. to George III. "You have been reading Mr. Madyett, I perceive," said he, with a smile; but I would rather hear something of your own actual experience. Tell me, therefore, in what condition are the people at this moment, as regards poverty?" "I have never been in Ireland, general," said I, not without some shame at the avowal coming so soon "Ah, I perceive," said he, blandly, "His only son, general," said I, blushing with eagerness and pleasure at the praise of my father. "Indeed!" said he, smiling courteously, and seeming to meditate on my words. "There was not a better nor a braver sabre in the corps than your father a very few more of such men might have saved the monarchy-as it And to was, they dignified its fall. whose guidance and care did you owe your early training, for I see you have not been neglected?" A few words told him the principal events of my early years, to which he listened with deep attention. At length he said, "And now you are about to devote your acquirements and energy to this new expedition?" "All, general! Everything that I have is too little for such a cause." " "You say truly, boy," said he, warmly; "would that so good a cause had better leaders. I mean," added he "wiser ones. Men more conhurriedly, versant with the actual state of events, more fit to cope with the great difficulties before them, more ready to take advantage of circumstances, whose outward meaning will often prove deceptive. In fact, Irishmen of character and capacity, tried soldiers and good patriots. Well, well, let us hope the best. In whose division are you?" "I have not yet heard, sir. I have presented myself here to-day to receive your orders." "There again is another instance of their incapacity," cried he, passionately. "Why, boy, I have no command, nor any function. I did accept office under General Hoche, but he is not to lead the present expedition." "And who is, sir ?" "I cannot tell you. A week ago they talked of Grouchy, then of Hardy; yesterday it was Humbert; to-day it may be Bonaparte, and to-morrow yourself! Ay, Tiernay, this great and good cause has its national fatality attached to it, and is so wrapped up in low intrigue and falsehood, that every minister becomes in turn disgusted with the treachery and mendacity he meets with, and bequeaths |