THE MALEJDICTED. 533 



the gentlest affections, and the tenderest feelings, which could adorn and 

 beautify the female character. I cannot say, at this moment, what she 

 saw in me ; but I saw in her a world of perfection, and I loved her for 

 the sweet and unobtrusive virtues of her character. She was formed, 

 too, for woman's saddest, most domestic offices. I remember when her 

 brother lay delirious in a fever, neither entreaties nor prayers could keep 

 her from his pillow. The lofty enthusiasm of her elder sister vented 

 itself in tears, and passionate exclamations. She wept for him as for 

 one already lost, and her grief grew moody and impatient, instead of 

 being softened into affectionate solicitude. What a contrast, in compa- 

 rison with the gentle Marian ! While her sister wept in hysterical agony, 

 Marian watched in anxious silence. Perhaps, too, she did weep, but it 

 was in the still midnight, when none were near, when very weari- 

 ness had pressed the eyelids of her suffering charge for a few moments 

 into fellowship. She sought rather to soothe, by an example of chas- 

 tened endurance, than augment the sorrow of others by the obstreperous 

 lamentations of her own ; and when she saw him restored to health and 

 strength, when he was well nigh overpowered by the boisterous glad- 

 ness of Catharine, she still maintained the beautiful equanimity of her 

 character. She felt, indeed, irradiated by his manly presence; but 

 beyond that, her bosom seemed as tranquil as a sheltered lake. Who 

 would not have coveted such a sister ? Who would not have sighed for 

 the surpassing ministrations of such a being, in hours when sadness sat 

 too heavily on the humiliated spirit, or sickness applied its withering 

 power to the exhausted frame ? May I be permitted to avow that I 

 gloried in such perfection that I loved her with a tenderness almost 

 equal to her own and, finally, that I was beloved with a deep, but 

 placid devotion, such as might only be manifested by an incomparable 

 being like herself? 



Why do I dwell upon these things w^th a spirit which almost seems to 

 exult in their contemplation ? Alas ! because I know they are beyond 

 recal. Why does the mourning mother gaze and gaze, again and again, 

 through her streaming tears, on the couch which contains the lifeless 

 form of her dear and only cjiild ? It is to have the fearful certainty more 

 indelibly impressed upon her heart, that she will no more see the warm 

 flush of life on its innocent cheeks, that she will never again behold the 

 brilliance of its sparkling eyes, or hear the murmuring music of its 

 voice, as it sunk in balmy slumber on her bosom. Even in such a spirit 

 do I gaze on the mental vision of Marian Kennedy, and the few short 

 hours of sunshine which her presence shed around me. 



At the period to which I now allude, our beloved, but unhappy 

 *country, was the arena of civil dissension, and party spirit raged with a 

 vehemence not often exceeded even in that degraded and misgoverned 

 land. It is not for me now to enter into any history of the indignities 

 which were heaped upon wronged and insulted Ireland ; she has had 

 her advocates, proud and triumphant ones. She has had her victims, 

 too ; anff^it is melancholy to think how similar has been the fate which 

 awaited both ; the most triumphant advocacy was merged in oppres- 

 sion, and the most sinless of her victims overwhelmed in the grave. 



My friend and myself did not come into manhood without a share, 

 perhaps a liberal one, of indignant feeling at the miseries which our 

 common country had sustained, and was in all human probability 

 doometl to sustain. It may be pardoned to us that we were sanguine in 



