Governor was declared, the want of confidence in his administration and the little desire entertained by any to carry out his plans, were shown in the silence with which his proposal was received. Not a man stepped forth to undertake the duty. With many, no doubt, the extreme peril of the task weighed sufficiently. The enemy were masters of every approach by sea and land to the devoted town, the gibbet awaited the capture of the messenger; and, when the highest in command betrays irresolution or apprehension, a panic is generated which descends through all ranks to the humblest serving under him. Kirke, amazed and confounded, stormed with passion, upbraiding his men with cowardice, (a taunt which proceeded with an ill grace from such as himself!); and finally, changing his voice to supplication and entreaty, he offered a premium of three thousand guineas to the soldier who was willing to become his messenger.

There was one, all this while, who stood on the frigate's deck silent and thoughtful, apart from the crowd, ever and anon casting wistful glances on the distant hill, whence the booming cannonade proclaimed that Derry was yet untaken. He had heard with astonishment the tidings of his General's lukewarmness and feeble purposing. He had listened, with disdain, to the golden hopes held forth for a venturesome envoy. His heart burned within him, as he thought of brave men, helpless women,

and innocent children, sacrificed to selfish imbecility; and a bitter smile gathered on his lip, as he whispered to a brother-officer near him, the overmastering sensations of his bosom :

"Can nothing be done to save them?"

And as he spoke, Colonel Roch (for it was he), impetuously sought the General's presence; and in a few brave words, that thrilled all, save Kirke himself, announced his determination to be the bearer of despatches to the Governor of the city. He disclaimed the reward as offered by the General, alleging that if he failed and fell, he could not claim it, or would not merit it; but that if he succeeded, the salvation of so many of his fellow-countrymen would be its own rich reKirke heard him graciously. His letter, written to the heroic George Walker, was folded in a piece of bladder, to preserve it from the water, and to this packet a few leaden bullets were attached, to sink it, if the bearer was about to be made a prisoner. Colonel Roch received many special messages for divers of the garrison; and amidst the prayers and blessings of his companions, was rowed in a small skiff down the lough, in the direction remotest from the city, and beyond the furthest sentinel of the enemy.

compense.

He stepped ashore, his life in his hand, but willing to lay it down in the duty he had undertaken. It was summer-bright, joyous, summer! The birds carolled on every tree. The green sward he pressed with his foot bore a thousand insect lives on its flowers and blossoms, and sent up rich perfumes that thrilled his heart with rapture. There was a silence, a hallowed peace on every side. Derry stood eleven miles distant; not a cry of the combatants, not a single echo of musketry could be heard. For a moment, it appeared as if the scene on board the shipping he had quitted, or the anguish of the town to which he was repairing, was a dream. Where could such things exist, while heavenly quietude had descended on earth? How could the jarring passions of men stir themselves for misery and ruin, when the God of nature, the Father of mercies, had poured his blessings abroad on hill-side and dale?

The pause lasted but a moment; images, strong stern images of war and its woes rose up before him. The desolated city, with her famine-swept streets, swam before his sight too keenly, too clearly, to be counted as a vision; it was all a terrible reality. And feeling this, he nerved himself for action, and turned precipitately away.

He had marked well the position of the town, and resolved to avail himself to the utmost of the

woods, which, circling the hills above him with foliage, reached down to the margin of the lough, and mirrored their dark masses in its clear glassy waters. He had seen from the vessel's deck that the trees stretched themselves in the direction of Derry from this quarter, and grew thick and close until they almost reached the suburbs. Perhaps, under their friendly shadow, he might pass King James' sentinels; and where the forest would not hide him, in the immediate vicinage of the town, he would commit himself to the water and be swept up, at a fit time, by the current. With the noiseless tread of an Indian hunter, Roch now sped on his journey. Every sense seemed absorbed in that of hearing. Soon, full soon, the dull, distant note of heavy ordnance broke the stillness, and sounded "nearer, clearer, deadlier than before," as he painfully tracked his way through the tangles of the wood. He often saw the light glancing on hostile arms through vistas among the trees. He often heard the measured tread of soldiery passing to and fro in a road just beneath him. He sometimes caught a glance of the white canvas of an encampment, and could even distinguish the refrain of the wild songs of its inmates. And through all he passed, unseen, unnoticed; as if, like the Trojan prince, some friendly divinity had encircled him in a clouding vapour. But now

the trees became thin. The axe had gone among them. They were felled here and there, and concealment was impracticable. It was certain destruction to go further. A living mass of men, the main body of the enemy, occupied the ground between him and the city. He must remain in his present position until the shadows of night.

to open

And so, burying himself anew in the forestbrake, the intrepid soldier awaited darkness. The elements were propitious. Heavy clouds began to gather. The wind moaned dismally, and gradually increased to a tempest. The sun went down in anger. Thick drops of rain began to fall. They thickened, until the flood-gates of heaven seemed and pour down their torrents on the earth. The sentry tightened his jerkin about him, and ceased his methodical round. His fellows drove down their tent-pins more tightly, straining and fastening anew the cords; and then, running beneath the canvas, drew across the flapping drapery. The dumb beasts sought the shelter of the forest. And now, denuding himself of his heavy upper garments, bare-headed and unbooted, Roch creeps forth from his hiding-place. He traverses the encampment without observation. He passes unchallenged one guard after another. He reaches the water-side. The war of the elements forbid