510 The Young Poet. [MAY, 



dus asked her to sit down, but with a laugh that did not become her she 

 refused. 



" It's not a place," said she, " for the likes o'me, that's next kin to an 

 O'Rindan, to sit in ; nor shall the O'Rindan himself sit in it again. I 've 

 sould off all I had, Blundus." 



" You didn't do well then, Luckie, it's the beginning of bad luck to 

 you." 



" Bad may follow it, but good must come of it," said Luckie, " since 

 it's to put you there where you should be, with a free foot, and clear o* 

 the world, on your township again ; I've brought the money." 



Blundus, however, much as he wished to get out, was too proud to 

 touch a penny of it. Luckie said it was not to purchase his love, but his 

 liberty ; that he might marry O'Connor's daughter, or what other he 

 pleased, while she would go far away, and never bother him again. But 

 all would not do. He condescended to confess, that he had found out 

 long ago he half loved her, that now he felt sure he did so entirely : but 

 nothing, he added, could bring him to think of making her his wife 

 forlorn and destitute as he was after he had as good as rejected her in 

 the days when he flourished upon the wreck of her ruin. So Luckie went 

 away hopeless and heart-broken. The life that was left in her did not 

 last long; andby-and-by news was brought Blundus that she had blessed 

 him no one could tell why with her last breath, and felt glad to die ; 

 because, though he would not be beholden to her when living, he could 

 not find any excuse for rejecting the means of obtaining his liberty from 

 one in the grave. Blundus took what she had left him it was the little 

 all she had in the world and came out of prison, as those who first saw 

 him said, a changed man. Without turning to the right or the left, he 

 went straight from the door down to the river side, where he laid out 

 what remained of Luckie O'Carrol's bequest, after paying his debts, in 

 buying a bit of a barge, which, brimful of earth, he was soon after noticed 

 rowing with all his might up the course of the stream. It is supposed 

 remorse had come over him, and he had made a vow ; but be this as it 

 might, Blundus for certain passed the rest of his life a lone and silent 

 man, unseen by day, and employed all night in the hopeless and endless 

 task of boating his whale, piecemeal, back to the bog. 



W. C. 



THE YOUNG POET. 



You had not thought to see his flashing eye, 

 Or his full voice attuned by nririh to hear, 

 That ever care could come his dwelling- near 



Or fancied sorrow~\vake one passing sigh : 



Yet he was tull of dreams, he loved to He 

 On a still morning by the ebbing sea, 

 Or in the winter moonlight lone to be 



Gazing intensely on the frosty sky ; 



He loved the tomh-stone rhyme, the minstrel's tale, 



And the wild wanderings of the legend lay, 



So burned his sonl in fantasies away 

 Too fierce a spirit for a form so frail ; 



Ahove his dust, is one bright line impressed, 

 " A gifted one lies here Pray, stranger lor his rest! " 



