the dead man, a paper, written in bold characters, bore the single sentence of "BLOOD FOR BLOOD!"

Lucy R, in widow's weeds, was sitting in her drawing-room; the gloom of twilight accorded with her "soul's sadness;" for the period was approaching, when a being, orphaned long before it saw the light, was to claim a mother's care. Her past was frightful to recall, her future fearful to look forward to. What should she be were her hour of trial safely over? A widowed mother at twenty! Wrapped in sombre meditation, she did not hear the opening door, until, moving across the light, a tall figure arrested her attention, when standing within two yards.

"Who are you?" demanded the startled mourner.

"William Halligan, lady, come to bid you an eternal farewell!" A deep low voice responded

"Brother of him in whom every feeling of this young heart was centred, and ever will be, I give you a widow's welcome,-sit down, William."

"Lady, I dare not, for time is precious."

"How often have I sent for you, William!"

"And think you, lady, that a whisper from you would not have brought me here at midnight? Bound, however, by a secret vow, I dared not see you, until I came to-night to say farewell."

"Where are you going, William ? "`

"That Heaven and accident only can decide. The money, which he whom we both lament bequeathed me, was, months ago, transmitted to America, and there I sail to claim it."

"I need protection, William. That hardened wretch-he who robbed me of my husband, rode past my window yesterday."

"He will never repeat the offence," returned long William calmly. "But time hurries forward, and upon a few minutes, with me, life and death may depend. Should the promised infant be a boy, give him this, as a dear memento," and he took a gun from beneath his great coat, and laid it on the table-" Tell him that a cross is filed deeply in the barrel that sped-"

"Whom-in the name of heaven?" exclaimed the lady, in alarm. "The slayer of his father! And now, farewell, for ever!"

He fell upon his knees, caught the lady's hand in his, and covered it with kisses. A low shrill whistle was heard beneath the window. "It is the signal. May Heaven bless and comfort you! Lady, farewell, for ever!"

Before the words were heard distinctly, he vanished as he entered. All knew that the homicide of George Pemberton was Liaume Vaddagh, and, in a wild community

"With whom revenge is virtue,"

his memory is still handed down as one who did "the state some service." He sought the backwoods of the Illinois, led a hunter's life, and died in an Indian wigwam.

It is only necessary to add, that the family of the unscrupulous duellist have been extinct for thirty years, while the descendant of the victimized bridegroom is prosperous in worldly circumstances. The circumstances under which I witnessed this fatal encounter were purely accidental. I had been stopping at the same inn where poor R. -- was passing his honeymoon, and had often admired a

couple, whom nature, it would seem, had created for each other. The evening when the wicked deed took place for Pemberton's friend gave a false signal, and R was shot before he raised his pistol-I was in my bed-room, making a trifling change in my toilet, preparatory to an excursion along the cliffs, when, without the customary knock upon the door, in rushed the chambermaid"Sir! sir!" she exclaimed, in voice of wild alarm; "run down stairs, for God's sake! They're going to shoot the handsome gentle

man!"

Before I could ask a question, or comprehend what the frightened girl meant, pop went a pistol in the garden. I jumped to the window-it overlooked the bowling-green-and there, upheld by the gardener and a boy, I saw a gentleman in the agonies of death. Half undressed, I hurried down stairs, and saw the two men mount their horses and ride coolly from the yard; and, on reaching the scene of action found that, with poor R- -, suffering was at an end, and life was extinct.

Thirty years after the sad event, I was marching a wing of the -d through Johnstown, where we were to halt for the night, when I received a visit from the squire, to invite me to dinner, and offer me a bed. Both were willingly accepted; for the village hostlerie was ill-kept and sadly over-crowded. On inquiry, I found that the gentleman to whose hospitality I was about to be indebted, was the son of poor R-—, whom I had seen shot at East Port; and, as the reminiscence might be unpleasant, I kept it to myself. I was most kindly entertained, and after supper-in those days a favourite meal in Ireland was conducted, by a grey-haired attendant, to my sleeping chamber.

"Have you been long in the family?" I inquired.

"I have lived in Johnstown under three generations."

"Then you remember some family changes in your time, John?” "Ay, many," said the old man ; "some for the better, and others for the worse."

"You lived with the father of Mr. R—— ?”

"I lived with the best master, and the handsomest man that ever fell in a wicked duel."

"I saw him shot."

The old man started, crossed himself devoutly, and poured out a supplication for mercy to the departed. "May I ask your name, sir?"

I told it.

"I remember it well. You were the young officer who held the poor master in your arms, when you sent the gardener and his boy to fetch the doctors."

"I am that person; and would have acted as your master's second, could I have reached the bowling-green in time. But they made short work of it."

"Ay, they did indeed," said the old man," but the vengeance of the Almighty has pursued them hard."

“Did he who killed your master come to an untimely end?" I demanded.

"Come into the next room, and I will tell you, sir."

He lifted the candles from the table, and led me into an adjoining apartment. It seemed a sort of private room or study. There were

a couple of book cases, whose shelves were tolerably filled, a collection of stuffed birds, and a glass press above the mantel-piece, to which, when he had placed the lights on the marble slab, he selected and applied a key, and from two pegs within, lifted down an antiquated weapon. I took the gun, and examined it carefully. In its day it was, no doubt, held in high estimation. The pans and touch-holes were bushed with gold, and the mountings of the stock were elaborately finished, the finishings being silver. But the barrels were shortened by a foot.

Why, John, these barrels have been razeed. How short they are!"

"They were found long enough to do the work of vengeance!" returned the old man, drily. "See ye, sir, this cross?"

"Yes; the file has deeply indented it."

"Through that barrel, a summons to eternity was carried to a ruthless heart. May God be gracious to your soul, Liaume Vaddagh! You took time to do your work, and did it well."

The old man replaced the weapon on its pegs, locked the glass case, conducted me to my room, bade me "good night," and left me to sleep-perchance to dream.

AN INSCRIPTION ON A SUN-DIAL.

"Horas non numero, nisi serenas."

How few can say that of their lives

They number none but sunny hours!
That each, as in this world he strives,

The thorns forgetting, counts the flowers.
No! since the day when Adam fell,
The curse on mortal man entailing,
This proverb has been tested well-
"Repining is a human failing."

How oft the gifts by Heaven bestowed

On reckless man, by him are slighted!
How spurn'd the lamp that round him glowed,
And cheer'd his path when near benighted!

But veil the light! when standing lone

He finds his earth-built fabric crumbled,
He bows himself before God's throne,
And prays for grace, devoutly humbled.

Let him not faint! for when his foes

Are all around him shadows throwing,
From out the ocean of his woes

The sun will rise, new life bestowing!
Oh! strengthen me in hope and faith!

That I may say,-ye heavenly powers,-
When sinking in the arms of Death,
"I've numbered none but sunny hours."
E. H. Y.

CALCUTTA.

THERE are in Calcutta four colleges established by Government, besides numerous other institutions for the diffusion of learning. Education, indeed, is very general in the metropolis, and there are but few, even among the natives, making any pretensions to respectability, who have not some acquaintance with European literature. I have heard as pure English spoken by Hindoos in Calcutta as by men of rank in London, and pieces from our poets recited by a lad of colour with a correctness of diction and an eloquence that would have done credit to any of our youth at home. Go where you will in Calcutta, enter the narrowest streets and the most obscure alleys, and you will find pedagogues engaged in teaching Pinnock or Goldsmith to the children, and ragged urchins of three or four years old shouting in concert, B-l-a, bla; c-l-a, cla. And then turn your eyes in an opposite direction; look at the wealthy and the noble of mature age, enter their houses, and what will you see and hear? You will see their dwellings furnished and their tables laid out in English style; you will see them possessed of libraries composed of the best works of the most approved English authors; you will see English newspapers regularly filed; you will see them corresponding in English with their friends and connexions; and you will hear them conversing on the topics of the day or their own private affairs in the English tongue. A person who had never travelled beyond the metropolis would be apt, on seeing all this, to exclaim, "The people will soon be thoroughly Anglicised!" But it is all confined to Calcutta, and even there is rather, perhaps, the result of a wish to outshine, than of a desire to improve.

A Mechanics' Institute was a few years since established in Calcutta. Institutions of this kind are particularly required in India, where the national systems of agriculture, commerce, mechanics, science, literature, and philosophy are so wretched; where prejudice and superstition impede improvement, and sloth and ignorance have had so long a reign. It is surely the duty of those who seek affluence in that country to encourage them, and thus endeavour to benefit the land from whose resources they expect to gain it. But, in spite of the old adage, "What's in a name?" the fate of this institution proved that there is something very important in the nomenclature of a thing. The title "Mechanic" is in a manner despised by the European community of Calcutta and their Euratian brethren; and so long as the Institute continued to bear the title which distinguished it as dedicated to such, notwithstanding the plainness with which it exhibited its claims to support as an institution calculated to disseminate a correct and practical knowledge of science, and a familiar acquaintance with the fine arts throughout the empire, and by the improvements such a knowledge would induce ulteriorly to promote the interests of all connected with India; notwithstanding appeals to the press, public lectures and private solicitations; notwithstanding the most brilliant speeches of the most eloquent orators (among whom may be particularly mentioned Mr. George Thompson), it languished for want of support, gradually decayed, and seemed about to yield up the ghost. It was at last suggested, that though the expedients

above alluded to had failed to stay the progress of disease, or invigorate the system, one, powerful as a galvanic battery, yet remained to be tried, a new nomenclature. It was proposed that the vulgar title of "Mechanics' Institute" should be thrown off, and the elegant and euphonious one of "The Lyceum" adopted. This was done; and wonderful was the effect. The young and tender tree revived in an instant, refreshing streams of cash were poured in abundance upon its roots; the very nobles of the land came forward to tend it, and now it flourishes and blooms, and promises ere long to produce a rich abundance of fruit. Still it is in reality the same as before in all but its name.

I have alluded to Mr. George Thompson. His arrival in India in 1843 was greeted by all classes of the community with joy. All had heard of his eloquence and his ability, of the interest he had exhibited in the affairs of, and his design in visiting, India, and therefore hailed him as the champion of her interests. Hindoo and Mussulman flocked eagerly around the standard he raised as a patriot leader, listened to his addresses, and, as he enlarged on their rights and wrongs (so far as he knew them) felt discontent, hatred to the rulers of their country, and bold resolutions to free it from their tyranny, rising within them. The press lauded and flattered him; invitations overwhelmed him; patriotic societies rose from nonentity at his presence; and his person and character were themes of inquiry and constant disquisition; imitative would-be orators sprang up in multitudes, and poured forth torrents of anger and abuse against Government, and all was excitement, all radicalism. Suddenly the man on whom the eyes of the people were fixed as their instructor and guide left the metropolis, and when he again appeared in it, did so in the character of ambassador from the Great Mogul. With what abuse he then met, let the periodicals of the day testify. "Where now," it was asked, "are his magniloquent professions of philanthropy, his selfdevotedness, and his zeal in the cause of India ?"

In India as in England the public appetite for the drama seems to have been satiated. There is a very elegant theatre in Calcutta, but it is now closed. It languished for want of support, though several talented performers were attached to it. Mrs. Leach, its founder and greatest ornament, was an exquisite actress. A Miss Cowley and a Miss Baxter, too, were both superior and elegant actresses. The latter preserved the theatre to the community on a former occasion, when it seemed about to fall. A circumstance, as true as it is laughable, connected with this theatre, occurred in 1841. Two ladies, engaged in England for it, and sent out, were actually entered among the "imports manifest" for the port of Calcutta, as goods consigned to the manager of the playhouse!

The newspaper is as necessary an adjunct to the breakfast table in Calcutta as it is in London. The military man looks eagerly for accounts from the north-west; turns to the lists of promotions and staff appointments, and forgets not to cast his eye at the obituary; the civilian searches for the advertisements which announce fresh arrivals of horses from Persia, Burmah, and Arabia; spinsters' and oilmen's stores from England; and wines and fruits from France; just glancing at the drafts of laws about to be enacted, and conning over the programme of the next races; and the merchant studies the accounts relative to indigo, sugar, and saltpetre. But the greatest excitement prevails when the mail from England is due. How eagerly is it looked for, and when it arrives, how are its contents scanned and analyzed!