Tarian Y Gweithiwr

THE COLLEEN BAWX. (Continued.) As gradual as the approach of a spring -rooming was the change from grave to gay in the costume of this flower of the suburbs. It dawned at first in a handsome bow-knot upon her head-dress, and ended in the full noontide splendour of flowered muslin, silks, and sashes. It was like the opening of the rose-bud, which gathers around it the wing- ed wooers of the summer meadow. "Lads, as brisk as bees," came thronging in her train, with proffers of "honourable love, and jite of marriage"; and even among the youths of a high rank, whom the wild levity ■ cf Irish blood and high spirits sent to mingle j in the, festivities of Owen's garden, a jeal- ocisy prevailed respecting the favour of the handsome rope-maker's daughter. It was I no wonder that attentions paid by indivi- duals so much superior to her ordinary ad- tnirers, should render Eily indifferent to the sighs of those plebeian suitors. Dunat .CLeary, the hair-cutter, of Foxy Dunat, as he was named in allusion to his red-head, I was cut to the heart by her utter coldness. I lyivlqs Myjphj> likewise, a good-natured farmer from Rillamey, who travelled fftjjjugri the country selling l £ en*y ponies, and claiming a relationship with every ocue be met, claimed! kindred in vain with Eily, [ far his claim was not allowed. Lowry Lobby, too, the servant of Mr Daly, a wealthy middleman who lived in the neigh- bourhood, was suspected, by many to1 entex-. talp delusive hopes of Eily Q'Oonnor's I but this report was improbable erfiSugh, for Lowry could not but know that be was a very ugly man; and if he were as beautiful as Narcissus, Mihil O'Connor would still have shut the door in his face for being as poor a: Timon. So that though there was no lack of admirers, the lovely Eily, like many ce'-bratcd beauties in a higher rank, ran, after all, a fair chance of becoming what Lady Mary Montague has elegantly termed "a lay nun." Even so a book-worm, who will pore over a single volume from morning till night, if turned loose into a library, wanders from shelf to shelf, bewildered amid a host of tempta- tions, and unable to make any selection un- til he is surprised by twilight, and chagrined to find, that with so much happiness within has grasp, he has spent, nevertheless, an un- profitable day. But accident saved Eily from; a: destiny so dSeeply dreaded and so often lamented as that above alluded to—a condition which people generally agree to look upon as one of utter desolation, and which, notwithstand- ing, is frequently a state of greater happiness than its opposite. On the eve of the seven- teenth of March, a day distinguished1 in the rape-maker's household, not only as the festival of the national Saint, but as the birth-day of the young mistress of the estab- lishment—on this evening Eily and her father were enjoying their customary relax- ation at Owen's garden. The jolly pro- prietor was seated, at usual, with his rope- twisting friend, under the yellow osier, while Myles Murphy, who had brought a number of his wild ponies to be disposed of at the neighbouring fair, had taken his place at the -nd of the table, and was endeavouring to. insinuate a distant relationship between the Owens of Kilteery, connexions of the person whom he addressed, and the Mur- phys of Knockfodhra, connexions of ..is own. A pc-rty of young men were playing fives at a ball-alley, on the other side of the green; and another, more numerous, and graced j with many female figures, were capering away to the tune of the Fox-Hunter's Jig, on the short grass. Some poor odd women, with baskets on their arms, were endeavour- ing to sell off some Patrick's Crosses for children, at the low rate of one halfpenny a pTece, gilding, paint, and all. Others, fatigued with exertion, were walking under the still leafless trees, some with their hats, some with their coats off, jesting, "laughing, and chatting familiarly with their female ac- quaintances. Mihil O'Connor, happening to see Lowry Looby anion., the promehadeis, glancing now and then at the dance, and whistling Patrick's day, requested him to call his daughter out of the group, and tell her that he + ng for her to go home. Lowry went, and returned to say that Eily was dancing with a strange young gentleman in a boating dress, and that he would not let her go until she had finished the slip jig. I It continued a sufficient time ta tire the old man's patience. When Eily did at last mane her appearance, he observed there W2 Hush of mingled weariness and pleas- ure on her cheek, which showed that the dblay was not quite in opposition to her own inclinations. This circumstance might have tfir pt d him to receive her with a little dis; Measure, but that honest Owen at that moment laid hold on both father and daughter, insisting that they should come in and take supper with his wife and himself This narrative of Eily's girlhood being merely introductory, we shad forbear to fur- nish any detfi.il of the minor incidents of the evening, or the quality of Mrs. Owen's en- tertainment. They were very merry and happy; so much so, that the Patrick's Eve T approached its termination before they rose to hid their host and hostess a good niirht. Owen advised them to walk an rapidly, in or t ;t the "Patrick boys, who w< 1 promenajdie the streets after twelve, to "Icorae in the mighty festival with music and uproar of all kinds. Some of the lads, said, "might be playen' their tfirlcVs upon phe n>:e;ht was rather dark, and the dim c»}i<"n~rer of the oil-lamp, which were sus- pen at long intervals aver" the !"treet I Je) >r« tended only in a very feeble decree to F the oioom. Mihil O'Connor an.1 h;s <1?tighter had already performed, more than b if their iourney, and were CtanTn" from a it i,- • hne at the head of Miingret Street, \th m and tumultuous so-und broke •nt"th sudden violence upon their hearing. It ornreeded from a multitude of people \Vhfj PT? moving in confused ani noisy pro-: cyss:nn along the street- Air ancient Oind <5t: honoured custom summons the youthful inhabitants of the city on £ f*einight of this scnn:versTv to celebrate the approaching1 #K'* • v n.f the patron saint artlf apostle of one's constant companions are the last tC) ob- serve any alteration in ooefs manner or op. ) the island, by promenading all the streets in succession, playing national airs, and filling up the pauses in the music with shouts of exultation. Such was. the procession which the two companions now beheld approach- ing. The appearance which it presented was not altogether destitute of interest and amusement. In the midst were a band of musicians who played alternately, "Patrick's Day," and "Garryowen," while a rabble of men and boys pressed around them, throng- ing the whole breadth and a considerable portion of the length of the street. The men had got sprigs of shamrock in their hats, and several carried in their hands lighted candles protected from the wasting night-blast by a simple lamp of whited brown paper. The fickle and unequal light which those small torches threw over the faces of the individuals who held them, af- forded a lively contrast to the prevailing darkness. The crowtil hurried forward, singing, play- ing, shouting, laughing, and indulging, to its z5,, 91 full extent, all the excitement which was occasioned by the tumult and; the motion. Bedroom windows are tlir&iys.) up as they passed', £ j]d the h^if-dressed inmates thrust these h&ads Into the air to gase upon the mob of enthusiasts. All the respectable persons who appeared: in the streets as they advanced, turned short into the neighbour- ing by-ways to avoid) the importunities which they. would be likely to incur by a troaiiiact with the multitude. 13ut it was roo Tate for our party to adopt this precaution. Before it had entered their minds, the procession (if we may digni- fy it by a, name so sounding) was nearer to them than they were to any turn in the street, and the appearance of flight with a rabble of men, as with dogs, is a provocation of pursuit Of this they were aware—and accordingly, instead of attempting a vain retreat, they turned into a recess formed by one of the shop doors, and quietly awaited the passing away of this noisy torrent. For some moments they were unnoticed; the fellows who moved foremost being too busy in talking, laughing, and shouting, to pay any attention to objects not directly in their way. But they were no sooner espied than the wags assailed them with that species of wit which distinguishes the inhabitants of the back lanes of a city, and forms the terror of all country visitors. These expression were lavished upon the rope-maker and his daughter, until the former, who was as irrit- able and old fellow as Irishmen generally are, was almost put out of patience. At length, a young man, observing the lamp shine for a moment on Lily's handsome face, made a chirp with his lips as he pass- ed) by, as if he had a mind to kiss her. Not Paplrius himself, when vindicating his sena- torial dignity against the insulting Gaul, could be more prompt in action than Mihil O'Connor. The young gentleman received in return for his affectionate greeting, a blow over the temples which was worth five hundred kisses. An uproar immediately commenced, which was likely to end in some serious injury to the old man and his daughter. A number of ferocious faces gathered round them, uttering sounds of harsh rancour and' defiance, which Mihil met with equal loudness and eaergy. In- deed, all that seemed to delay his fate and hinder him from sharing in the prostration of his victim was the conduct of Eily, who, flinging herself in bare-armed beauty before her father, defended him for a time against the upraised weapons of his assailants. No one would incur the dianger of harming, by an accidental blow, a creature so young, so beautiful, and so affectionate. They were at length rescued from this precarious condition by the interposition of two young men, in the dress of boatmen, who appeared to possess some influence with the crowd, and who used it for the ad- vantage of the sufferers. Not satisfied with having brought them safely out of all im- mediate danger, the taller of the two- con- ducted! them to their door, saying little on the way, and taking his leave as soon as they were. once in perfect safety. All that Mihil could learn from his appearance was, that he was a g-entleman-aind very young- perhaps not more than nineteen years of age. The old mpn talked much and loudly in praise of his gallantry, but Eily was alto- gether silent on the srubject. A few days after, Mihil O'Connor was at work upon the rope-walk, going slowly back- ward in the sunshine, with a little bundle of hemp between his knees, and singing "Maureen Thiema, A hunch-backed little fellow, in a handsome dress, came up, an*il saluting him in a sharp city brogue, reminded the old rope-maker that he had done him a service a few evening before. Mihil professed his acknowledgments, and with true Irish warmth of heart, assured the little boatman that all he had in the world was at his service. The hunch-back, how- ever, only wanted a few ropes and blocks for his boat, and even, for those he was re- solute in paying honourably. Neither did he seem anxious to satisfy the curiosity of old Mihil with respect to the name and quality of his companion; for he was inex- orable in maintaining that he was a turf- boatman from Scagh, who had come Illp to town with him to dispose, of a cargo of fuel at Charlottes's Quay. Mihil O'Connor re- ferred him to his daughter for the ropes. about which he said she could bargain as well as himself, and he was unable to leave his work until the rope he had in hand should be finished The little deformed. no way displeased .t this intelligence, went to find Eily at the shop, there he spent a longer time that Mihil thought -sar- the purpose. From this time forward the arter o' Eily O'Conn -r seemed to have Ul. 'ergo-ne seconi change. Her former gravity re^.m ed, but it did not re-appear under the sair circumstances as before. Tn her days .if religious retirement, it appearedi only in her dress, and in her choice of amusements Now, both her recreations and her attire were much caver than ever,- so much so ar almost to approach a degree of dissipation but her cheerfulness of mind was gone, and the sadness which had settled on her heart, like a bl-ek reef under sunny waters, was plainly visible through all her gaiety. Her father ws too much occupied in his eternal rope-twisting to take particular notice of ifcfe. change; and bes-iidbs, it is notorious that pea ranee. One morning, when 1Vhhil O'Connor left his room, he was surprised to find that the breakfast table was not laid as usual, and his daughter was not in the house. She made her appearance, however, while he was himself making the necessary arrange- ments. They exchanged a greeting some- what colder on the one side, and more em. barrassed on the other, than was usual at the morning meetings of the father and daughter. But when: she told him that she had been only to the chapel, the old; man was perfectly satisfied, for he knew that Eily would as readily think of telling a, falsehood to the priest as she would to her father. And when Mihil O'Connor heard that people were at chapel, he generally concluded (poor old man) that it was only to pray they went there. In the meantime Myles: Murphy renewed his proposals to Eily, a-ri-dl succeeded in gain- ing over the father to his interests. The latter was annoyed at his daughter's obstin- ate rejection of ai fine fellow like; Myles, with a very comfortable property, and. press- ed her either to give consent to the match, or a, good reason for her refusal. But this request, though reasonable, was: not com- plied with > and the rope-maker, though not so hot as Capulet, was as much displeased at the contumacy of his daughter. Eily, on her part, was so much afflicted at the anger of her only parent, that it is probable her grief would have made away with her if she hajJi not prevented that catastrophe by mak- ing away with herself. On the fair day of Garryowen, after sus- taining a long and distressing altercation z"' zn with her father and her other mountain suitor, Eily O'Connor threw her blue cloak over her shoulders, and walked into. the; air. She did not return to dinner, and her father felt angry at what he thought a token of re- sentful feeling. Night came, and she did not make her appeat,ance. The poor old man, in an agony of terror, reproached him- self for his vehemence, and spent the whole night in recalling, with a feeling of remorse, every intemperate word which he had used in the violence of dispute. In the morning, more like a ghost than a living being, he went from the house of one acquaintance to another, to inquire alter his child. No one, however, had seen her except Foxy Dunat, the hair-cutter, and he had only caught a (glimpse of her as she passeidi his door on the previous evening. Her father was dis- tracted. Her young admirers feared that she had got privately married, and rum away with some shabby fellow. Her female friends insinuated' that the case might be still worse, and some pious old people shook their heads when) the report reached them, and said they knew what was likely to come of it, when Eily O'Connor left off attendfing heT daily mass in the morning, and went to the dance at Garryowen. Little Mary Tierney.