THE FURZE-BUSH. 29 



iTiemory is precious to me. She was a humble 

 cottager ; but remarkable for that intelligence which 

 frequently, I may say universally, characterizes 

 even the most uneducated class in hernative Ireland. 

 Over the earliest period of her life, a cloud hangs ; 

 but it is not the obscurity of darkness — rather it 

 would seem, the outset was a flood of light, sudden- 

 ly disappearing behind the thick mists which over- 

 hung the horizon where her mornino; sun arose. 

 This I ascertained, but not until long after those 

 mists had begun to disperse, which deeply shroud- 

 ed her mind at the commencement of our acquaint- 

 ance ; — that she was the daughter of a converted 

 man, called out of the darkness of Romanism to 

 the marvellous light of the gospel ; — that her father 

 had diligently instructed his household in those 

 truths which he had found to be the power of 

 God unto the salvation of his own soul ; and, both in 

 English and Irish, he had read the scriptures, to 

 ail who would come within the hearing of them. 



I know not how it was, that at the early age of 

 six years, Mary was removed from the paternal 

 roof, and initiated by those among whom she sub- 

 sequently dwelt, into all the mysteries of that 

 fatal apostacy from which her father had been res- 

 cued. She became in time, the wife of one 

 equally bigoted, and equally ignorant with herself; 

 and crossing the channel, they took up their abode 

 in England, within the reach of a Roman Cath- 

 3* 



