Oh, let me wear the sable dress,

The widow's coif and veil,

No orange wreath my heart can bless,No lover's tender tale.

Then ask me not again to wed,

Another name to bear,

The one I borrowed from the dead

I evermore would wear.

I do not doubt your worth, your truth,
I do not doubt your love,

But I gave my heart to him in youth,
And he bore that heart above.

"Tis true that sorrow hath passed by,

Nor left to view a trace,-
She hath not dimm'd my hazle eye,
Nor channel'd o'er my face.

Dark o'er my path she loved to roam,
With her pale sister-care,-

Within my heart she made her home,
And left her foot-prints there.

'Tis true my home is lonely now,
Hushed is the voice of mirth,
Nor speaking eye, nor cheerful brow,
Meet round the glowing hearth.
But from the wall looks down a face,
That fondly seems to smile,
His features there I daily trace,

And deem him here the while.
Then leave me in my loneliness,
Nor ask my fate to share,
The past alone my hours can bless-
I love to linger there.

Go seek a bride whose heart is free,

Nor longer woo in vain,—

For she who once hath loved like me Will never love again.

Then ask me not again to wed,

Another name to bear

For that I borrowed from the dead,
I evermore would wear.

usually failed to prevent it after the arrangements for it had been made; and we have more than once seen a parish priest-respected and beloved by his flock-laboring as vaiuly to establish peace among them as if he talked to so many stocks or stones.

Many years have passed since we witnessed one of those disgusting scenes. Unhappily, with their brutality and cruelty was frequently mixed up so much fun and humor and physical courage, that their revolting character was not immediately perceptible, although generosity was a rare ingredient in a fight, and women too frequently mingled in it. We must observe, however, that, in the most ferocious encounter, a woman was seldom struck-we might almost go the length of saying, never-except by accident. We recollect seeing one of the gentler sex striking right and left with a terrific weapon-a huge stone in'a stocking-foot-and noting several meu knocked down by her blows without either of them aiming at her a single one in return. It used to amaze us that more lives were not lost in such contests; but a man was frequently saved in consequence of the number of his adversaries, all beating at him with their sticks, which generally interfered so much with each other that few of the blows reached him. We call to mind one fair in particular; it took place in the vicinity of Ballydehob, about thirty miles west of the county of Cork, and at a time when there was little dread of interruption. We shall endeavor to describe it-briefly, however, for the subject is not pleas. ant, and, now, cannot be useful-with the introductory scene which the artist has pictured from our description. Towards the afternoon

of a fine spring day, the rival factions began to assemble-each armed with his stout shillalah*. The leaders parleyed somewhat before they began-not a very frequent course; they were surrounded by women and children; and an eld hag seemed determined there should be no chance of peace, for she rated one of them with the term 'coward.' Actual hostilities were, however, commenced by a huge fellow running through the crowd and stopping before each man of the opposite party, whom he greeted with the foul phrase "liar: his purpose was soon answered; one less patient than the rest, struck him a blow; their sticks were crossed, and in a moment hundreds joined the melee. They fought for above an hour-and, at length, one par y was beaten off the field. But, in truth, we can do little good by entering into minute explanations of a scene so revolting;

The shillelah derives its name from a famons wood, near Arklow in the county of Wicklow, where the best oaks and black thoras were grown. It was generally a out three fee long; sometimes a smaller one was used, ca leda Kippeen,' or 'Cla' alpeen;' and occs nal, one of eight or ten feet long called 'a wattle.'

The peasantry were very choice in the selection of their national weapon, and especially careful in its preparation after it was cut. Sometimes it was tempered in a dung-heap; at others in slack lime; but the more usual mode was to suit over repeatedly with butter, and place it up the chimney,' where it was left for a period of several months. We have in our possession one that we have pretty good evidence had been actively engaged in every fair in the neighborhood hands of a magistrate, from whom we received it, in for above twenty years, and at length came into the consequence of its owner having been transported for manslaughter at a fight.

and we shall prefer leaving them to the reader's fancy; communicating the attendant consequences in the less disagreeable form of a story; telling it, however, as nearly as we can call them to mind, in the very words in which we heard it; and so carrying out our plan of varying dry details by the introduction of matter more attractive.

The faction fights, plaze your honors,' said an intelligent countryman when spoken to by us on the subject, the faction fights are a'most, and may be more than a'most, gone off the face of the country. The boys are beginning to talk about them as things they have seen-like a show or a giant. We ask each other how we were ever drawn into them, what brought them about; and the one answer to that, is-Whisky! -No gun will go off until it is primed, and sure whisky was the priming. Thit made more orphans and widows than the fever or starvation. Thanks be to God, if death come upon us now, it is by the Lord's will, and not our own act.'

It was encouraging to hear such a remark from one of the people;' and this was by no means a solitary instance.

The man had, he confessed, many a time when a mere child, incited by the example of the faction to whom his parents belonged, nerv. ed his little arms to cast heavy stones into the melee, not caring how or where they fell. We usen't to mind a bit of a shindy in those times; if a boy was killed, why we said it was his luck,' and that it couldn't be helped; if a fellow trailed his coat over the fair green and dared any one to stand a foot on it, we enjoyed the fight that was sure to follow, and never thought or eared how it would end. Sure I remember my own brother-and now since he's been a Temperance man, he hasn't raised a finger in anger to any living creature-sure I mind him well, feeling the tents for heads, and when he'd got one to his liking, giving it first a good rap, and then calling on the owner to come out and fight him; sure he'd never have done that but for the whisky. Ab,' he continned, that was a foolish divarshin, but there was no heart bitterness with it; nothing to lay heavy to the end of

6

one's days. But the faction fight was the bitterest of all-black hatred descending from father to son, against the opposite faction, as if poor Ireland hadn't enough enemies without turning-worse than a wild beast-to murder and destroy her own flesh and blood. Now there's a poor woman,' he said, pointing to a pale patient-looking person who sat knitting at her cottage door; there's a poor creature! Mrs Lawler knows what factions come to, and so she ought; she'll tell the lady her story and welcome, if she has any curiosity to hear it. Good morrow-morning to you, Mrs Lawler, and how's your girleen ma'am? the lady would be glad to rest while the gentleman and I get up the far hill; and you have always a welcome, like your people before you, for the stranger.'

Kindly welcome,' said the widow. 'Mary, dust the chair, avourneen.'

The cabin was clean and neat, and bearing no evidence, of the presence of that sad poverty we had so frequently seen, though it did not dim the smile or lessen the welcome-nor was it dif ficult to lead the widow to the story of sorrows, which, however softened by time, were ever uppermost in her mind.

My mother and myself were widowed by factions-plase God my little girl won't have the same tale to tell, for the Connels and the Lawlers might put salt to each other's potatoes without fear of fighting, now. It was a shocking thing to see the arm of brother raised against brother, only because as battle and murder war in the hearts of their forefathers they must be continued in their own.'

'I was born a Connel, and almost the first thing I learned was to hate a Lawler, from the lip out; and yet hard fortune was before me, for the very first passion my heart felt was the same love it feels still, for a Lawler; it has known no change, though it has known sorrow; the first knowledge I had of the wild beatings of my own heart was when I saw that girl's father. Ah yah! it has beat with joy and terror often; but the love of my first love, and my last, was always one; and now, when all is past and gone, and that you, Mark Lawler, are in your green, quiet, grave, I am prouder to hav

was

the choice of your own fine noble spirit, than if I was made this moment the queen of all Ireland's ground. O, lady! if you could have seen him! Norah' said my father to me, and I winnowing at our barn-door with the servantmaid, Norah, keep your eyes on the grain, and not on the chaff, and don't raise them above the hedge, for there's many a Lawler will be passing the road this day on account of the fair, and I don't wish a child of mine to notice them.' I intended to do his bidding, and whenever I heard a horse, or the voices of strangers coming down the boreen, I kept my eyes on the grain, and let the chaff fly at its pleasure, until a dog broke through the hedge, and attacked a little beast of my own; so as soon as that came to pass, I let the seive fall, to catch my own little dog in my arms; there was no need for that, for HE over the hedge, lighter and brighter than a sunbeam. Ah, then, I wonder is love as quick at taking in all countries as it is here? Mark Lawler didn't speak ten words, nor I two; and yet from that out-under the bames of the moon, or the sun, in the open field, or in the crowd it was all one; no one but Mark Lawler was in my mind. I knew he was a Lawler by his eyes, and well he knew I was a Connel; but the love would have little of the boy and girl love in it, that would heed a faction. We, who had never met till that moment, could never go astray in the fields without meeting after. Ah! Mary,' she continued, addressing her daughter, and yet, in her simplicity, quite forgetting she had been proving the uselessness of precept by her own confession; ah, Mary dear, if ye feel yer heart soften towards a young man, keep out of his way intirely, avourneen; have nothing to say to him, don't drive your cow the same road he walks, nor draw water from the same well, nor go to the same chapel, Mary, barrin you have no other to go to: there's a deal of mischief in the chapel, dear, because you think in your innocence you're giving your thoughts to God, and all the time, maybe, it's to an idol of your own making, my darling child, they'd be going; sure your mother's sorrow ought to be a warning, avourneen!'

Yes, mother,' replied the blue-eyed girl, meekly.

'Well, lady, my poor father thought 1 grew very attentive intirely to the young lambs, and watchful over the flax; but at last some of the Connels whispered how it was, that Mark Lawler met his child unknownst; and he questioned me, and I told the truth, how I had given my heart out of my bosom, and I fell at his feet, and cried salt and bitter tears until they dropped upon the ground he stood on; and seeing his heart was turning to iron, I, who had ever been like a willow in his hand, roused myself, and challenged him to say a word to Mark's disadvantage; I said he was sober, honest industrious, and my father was struck with the strength of the heart I took, and listened, until at last he made answer, that if a saint from heaven came down, and was a Lawler, he would not give him a drop of water to wet his lips. He threatened me with his curse if I kept true in my love, and

thought to settle the thing out of hand by mar rying me to my own second cousin; but that I wouldn't hear to; God knows I did not mean to cross him, but what could I do? Mark sent to ask me to bid him farewell, or his heart would break; I thought there could be no harm in blessing him, and telling him to think cf me no more. Mary, avourneen,' she said, again addressing her daughter, 'If you really want to break off at once with a young man, take warning by me.'

Yes, mother,' was again Mary's gentle reply. At that meeting we agreed to meet again; and so we did, till we got a priest to make us one. At first, I was happy as a young bird but soon my heart felt crushed, for I had to carry two faces. My father was more bitter ti an ever against the Lawlers; and my brother, Dark Connel,' as he was called, more cruel than my father. At last I was forced to own that I was married. I watched the time when my brother was away; for one storm was as much as I could bear. My father cast me like a dog from the hearth I had played on when a child; in his fury he knelt to curse me, but my mother held a gospel against his lips; so I was saved his curse. The arms of a loving husband were open for me; and until the Midsummer fair I thought my happiness was sure; I work ed hard to keep Mark from it, for the factions were sure to meet there; he swore to me that he would not raise a finger against my father or brother, nor let a drop of spirits pass his lips I walked with him a piece of the way, and thought all pleasure in sight left my eyes wher he waved the last wave of his hat on the top o the hill. As I was turning into our own field, lark was rising above its nest, singing its glory to the heavens in its sweet voice, when a sho from the gun of one of those squireens who are thick among the leaves as spiders' webs, struck the bird and it fell quivering and bleeding close to where I knew its nest was in the corn. opened the bending grain to see if I could find it; it was lying quite dead, and its poor mate standing close by. The lark is a timid thing but she never minded me, and my heart felt s sick, that I went into my house crying bitterly

and

'I could not rest; I thought in a few hour I might be like that innocent bird; and taking my cloak about me, I walked on, and on, unti I came in sight of the fair green. It was a wo ful sight to me-the shouts of the showmen, the screams of the sellers, the lowing of cattle and bleating of sheep, were all mixed togetherwhile the yell of the factions, every now again, drowned every thing in its sound. knew my own father's voice, as he shouted 'Hurree for the Connels-down with the Law lers.' I saw him standing before Mark, aggra vating him. My husband's hands were clench ed, and he kept his arms close by his side tha he might not strike. I prayed that God migh keep him in that mind, and flew towards them Just as I dropped on my knees by his side, h he had raised his arm-not against my father but against my brother, who had drawn the ol man back; and there they stood face to face