"There, sir,” said the magistrate, as soon as he had ended, "I think it will give you some trouble to persuade me, after this, that you are not the man I take you for. It is useless to mince the matter, Mr. Doheny, -everything tends to confirm the fact; there is not a syllable in this letter that is not applicable to the circumstances of your position since the occurrences in July, and, do you mark me, sir, I am not ignorant of the meaning of the passage you have marked in italics."

"I wish, sir," I returned, somewhat testily, "that your acquaintance with its meaning extended to the whole of the letter. The very superscription might, I think, have enlightened you."

I could see by his heightened colour that Mr. O'Kelly's Irish blood was up at this remark, but remembering, probably, that he was on the bench, he suppressed the anger that was rising.

"Sir," said he, emphatically, "that's another point that makes against you;-the letter is without any address; it was given with private instructions and a piece of money to a boy named Terence Donovan to deliver. What the orders were which you gave him, I do not pretend to know, but I have no doubt you made them perfectly intelligible. You talk of a superscription, sir,-where is it?"

He held out the letter, as he spoke.

"Not there, certainly," replied I; "it is not the custom in England to write the address inside the letter."

66

"England, sir!" returned Mr. O'Kelly-his passion beginning to rise'you're mighty free with England; but it won't do, Mr. Doheny. If it isn't inside, as you call it, I say again-where is it?”

"Most likely, sir," I answered, "on the envelope, which this very intelligent policeman has neglected to give you."

Mr. O'Kelly looked puzzled at this observation; simple as the thing was, the absence of the envelope had never struck him.

and turned abruptly to Mr. Brady.

"What's gone with the cover, Brady?"

He bit his lip,

The sub-inspector opened his eyes very wide, and paused for a few

moments.

"Speak, sir," cried the magistrate, impetuously.

"Is it the cover, your honour! the common bit of paper the letther was wrapped in? By gor, then, I threw it away. Where was the use of kaping a thing like that? nobody writes their idaes on the outside of a letther, that ever I heard tell on."

Mr. O'Kelly got very red in the face; he saw that the policeman had made a regular Irish blunder, and that, to a certain extent, he had shared in it himself. He was resolved, however, not to be beaten so easily.

"This is all very well," he said, "but the absence of the cover disproves nothing of the contents of the letter. Pray, sir, what explanation have you to offer of them ?"

"If you will be kind enough, sir," answered I, "to allow me to give you a full explanation of the whole affair, I think I can satisfy you that I am really what I describe myself to be, and that this man, whose name certainly is Dillon-no uncommon one in Ireland, by the bye-is a very different individual from the misguided person with whom you seem disposed to identify him."

66

Very well, sir," said the magistrate, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair, "go on."

I then proceeded to relate to him, point by point, all that the reader is acquainted with, up to the time of my writing the unfortunate letter. He listened attentively, and I could perceive by his countenance that the straightforwardness of my story had begun to make some impression on him. He would not, however, receive it all as gospel, but when I had finished proceeded to cross-examine me.

"What made you say, sir, that you had been obliged to take a roundabout way to Skibbereen?"

"My object," I replied, "was to get to Bantry, and from Cork, I imagine, the high road through Bandon is barely one-third of the distance by sea.'

"That's all very well, but what do you mean by a few hours more seeing you safe under hatches? That looks more like wishing to be off the land than on it."

"Perhaps it does, sir, but I can only say that I spoke figuratively. Having been cruising about for three or four weeks, I suppose I have got into a nautical way of expressing myself; it is an affectation I am sorry for."

"Ah! Why, sir, should your uncle, if he is your uncle, be so anxiously expecting news of you, and how came you to despair of ever seeing him again? What was the rough time you had of it, and the changes that had taken place, and the disguise, sir? Answer these."

"I will try, sir. It is ten or eleven years since I saw my uncle last, and at that time I was quite a boy." Mr. O'Kelly looked hard at me, and a smile was almost perceptible, but he said nothing, and I went on. "I had long promised to pay him a visit and had been often disappointed, so that it was natural enough he should be anxious. The 'rough time' had reference to the gale of wind that made us run into Baltimore harbour, and the disguise' I think speaks for itself; the dress one wears out yachting is not precisely the same a man figures in, in the streets of London."

"All this may or may not be the fact," said Mr. O'Kelly, "but the political allusion, sir, that's what I should like to get at."

"Political allusion !" I exclaimed, "how ! where !"

6

"Oh, sir, these things are pretty well understood; we can make out hieroglyphics. What's the meaning of this? By the time the sun shines again, I trust I shall be a new man.' On your honour as a gentleman, does not that mean the sun of liberty and political regeneration?" Upon my honour then, as a gentleman," returned I, laying the strongest emphasis on the words, "it means nothing more than a clean shirt and a shave' before another day went over my head."

66

Mr. O'Kelly was staggered at the simplicity of my explanation; I saw he was vexed with himself, but at the same time half inclined to laugh at the turn things had taken. But he was magisterial to the last.

"Well, sir," he said "I have one question more to put to you. As the cover of the letter is unfortunately lost and you lay so much stress on that, you can have no hesitation in telling me who it was addressed to?" "None in the world," I answered. "My uncle, who is my mother's brother, has a place at Glengariff, on the other side of Bantry. His name is Colonel Desmond."

"What the devil!" exclaimed Mr. O'Kelly, startled quite out of his propriety, "Colonel Desmond!-he your uncle ?"

"He is, sir, I give you my word."

"Well," said he, his energy surprising him into a sudden exhibition of brogue, "that bates Banagher! Colonel Desmond your uncle!-then Tom Desmond is your cousin ?"

"The same, sir; we are not only cousins, but have been schoolfellows. He was brought up with me at Eton."

"True enough he went there for his education. The rascal is engaged to be married to my eldest daughter, Grace. He's in the house at this moment. If he can identify you, I have no more to say on the subject. Here, you Tim Brady, step into the hall, and desire one of the servants to give my compliments to Mr. Desmond and beg him to step this way ; it's on a little business I want him."

All the rest was plain sailing-if, after my previous scrape, I may venture on another nautical term. Tom Desmond knew me the instant he entered the room, but was more than enough surprised to see me there, and so situated. Of course Mr. O'Kelly made me the amende honorable, and as an Irishman never does things by halves, of course he made me stay to dine and sleep at Castle Townshend, and mounted me the next morning, when my cousin and I rode over to Glengariff together, exacting from me a promise to come and to see him the next time I came to Ireland. Just before I took leave, and while Tom was: whispering something, very tender no doubt, to Miss Grace O'Kelly— an extremely fine girl, by-the-bye-her father took me aside.

"A word of advice," said he, in a low tone; "while you're in Ireland, never put your letters into those d―d envelopes, as you call them. They entirely defeat the ends of justice!"

I laughed and shook hands with him; we mounted and rode off; and this time nothing prevented me from paying the long-deferred "VISIT TO MY UNCLE."

THE PHANTOM HAND.

BY MRS. ACTON TINDAL.

Sir Walter Long, of Draycot, was twice married. The first lady was a Pakington, of Worcestershire; the second a Thinne, of Longleat. The second wife persuaded the father to disinherit the son of the first marriage. The clerk of her brother, Sir Egrimond Thinne, sat up to engross the deed. As he wrote he perceived the shadow of a hand on the parchment. He thought it might be only his fancy and wrote on. By-and-bye a fine white hand interposed between the parchment and the candle, and he could discern it was a woman's. He refused to engross the deed. It is satisfactory to know that the heir was righted at last.

THE winds of drear December were howling near and far;
With snow the hills were whitened, there glimmer'd scarce a star;
The glad hearts of cach household around the fire had drawn,
Where sparkled glowing childhood, th' Aurora of life's dawn:

A lonely clerk was writing, swift o'er a parchment scroll,
Till seemed the words before him in inky seas to roll;
Until the street was silent and cold the hearth-stone grew,
And waved the long-wick'd candle in every wind that blew.

A valiant knight lay dying-a step-dame by his side

Won him to wrong his first-born-the child of her who died.
That scroll his goodly birthright gave to a younger son,

And when 'twas written, signed, and sealed, the step-dame's work was done. Why paused that clerk ?-a shadow upon his work was cast,

A small hand o'er the parchment dimly and swiftly past.

He glanced around all doubting, the place was lone and still,

66

""Tis weary work," he murmured, 'gainst Death to drive the quill."

He wrote on; but the parchment with white light seemed to blaze,
And lo! from out the centre there sprang a host of rays;

A hand of wondrous beauty amid the brightness lay,
The letters paled beneath it-the dark words past away.
That hand! no pulse was beating beneath its dazzling hue—
No life-blood's ebb or flowing thrilled in those veins of blue;
That hand! oh nothing human was e'er so purely fair:
Hast seen the wild rose blossom float on the summer air?

The light bright foam that rideth upon the billow's crown?
Beneath the white swan's pinion, know'st thou the tender down?
So fragile and so spotless, upon its argent bed,

Unmoved it lay before him, the chill hand of the dead!

The clerk looked up, beside him there smiled an angel's face,
A form of human outline, bent with the willow's grace;
Hast seen the young moon looming amid an earthborn mist?
Or floating 'neath the waters-a flower the sun hath kissed?
The lustre of the night-queen streams softened thro' the cloud;
And the bright blush of the flower glows 'neath its wat'ry shroud,
So vague was she, and shadowy, so dimly, strangely fair,
A crown of silver lilies gleamed o'er her flowing hair.

Her voice-the young clerk heard it-and with his heart he heard,
Those tones the founts of being in their deep centre stirred!
"I am that young child's mother, whom thy swift pen would wrong,
"The angels took me early-earth did not own me long.

"The love I bear my first-born was lulled by Death to sleep-
"The bud lies in the dark seed till summer dews shall weep;
"Till summer suns shall wake it clad in triumphant bloom,
"The light of God awaiting, my love slept in the tomb.

"Lo! in the dim old chancel in holy trance I lie,

"The lights and shades flit o'er me as days-months-years, pass by-
"The first red glow of morning creeps up the long aisle's gloom,
"The moonbeams glance around me-meet haunters of the tomb!
"And nothing warms or chills me-I know no joy or pain-

""Tis well-full soon pass'd o'er me my lover's bridal-train.
"The young child's guardian angel stood in my grave to-night,

"Come forth once more,' he whispered, 'to shield thy son's birthright.'

"I felt the love within me kindle, and thrill, and glow,

"And through my soul's dim essence its subtle music flow!

"Though not of earth or heaven, poor disembodied wight!

66

'My love hath burst the barrier that shuts the dead from sight!

"Put up thy pen, good writer, and pray on bended knee,

"For one hath stood beside thee who 'mid the dead is free."

She smiled, and smiling blended into dim air away

At dawn that clerk was praying like one in dire dismay.

And horsemen riding madly came swearing to the door;

"The parchments, clerk! ere noonday the knight will be no more." "Not all his golden acres where bend the nodding corn;

"Nor merry trout streams gliding from woods that meet the morn;

"Not all his dewy pastures, nor goodly kine they feed,

"Should buy from my poor goose-quill that base, unrighteous deed. "Go back and bid the step-dame and dying knight beware!

66

'For, lo! the blessed angels are sworn to right the heir."

COLONIES AND COLONISTS; OR, ENGLAND AND HER

OFFSPRING.

BY WILLIAM H. G. KINGSTON, Esq.

AUTHOR OF THE PRIME MINISTER, LUSITANIAN SKETCHES, &c. &c.

It is now generally acknowledged, by thinking men as well as by the most thoughtless, by the high and wealthy as by the poor and humble artisan, by all ranks and conditions, that as a plethoric person is revived by bleeding, so may the body politic of this densely-crowded country be relieved by an extensive emigration of her population; but it does not so satisfactorily appear that either our rulers or the nation at large consider that something more than mere emigration is required, and that the stream which gushes forth is as precious as the blood which still flows through our veins. The laisser faire school assert that the state should not interfere; and that, provided we are rid of our surplus population, it is a matter of indifference whether they land in British or foreign possessions; whether they amalgamate, in some sort or other, into a social body, or disappear by shipwreck, famine, or pestilence from the face of the earth. Under the auspices of that school has, for the most part, British emigration taken place, and have British colonies been formed. Thus convicted felons have been deemed fit seeds of future empires, and men, strangers to each other, have been brought together from all parts of the mother country, by one hope, by one motive only of attraction--to accumulate wealth, and bound together by one sole nexus-gold. Most have suffered disappointment: ill-advised laws and regulations have contributed to blast the hopes of many, while their own blindness and mad speculation have caused the ruin of the majority in the younger settlements. Thus, whenever it has been considered desirable to establish a new colony, or to increase an old one, it has been requisite to send agents throughout the country, like recruiting-sergeants with drum and fife, and with tales not dissimilar, to beat up for colonists; to issue pamphlets innumerable; to write books not a few; to exert the influence of the press, to laud the territory to be settled.

All this trouble and expense might be spared, and the truth might be told, if the advocates of emigration would consider that attraction will have far greater and more permanent effects than impulsion! In other words, that an enlightened system of colonisation being established, emigration will follow as a matter of course. thither find the land a fruitful and good land, and governed by wise If the first who emigrate regulations, they will persuade their relations and friends to fellow them, and, surrounded by all which made England dear, they will have just reason to rejoice that they became colonists.

Before proceeding further, the two terms, Emigration and Colonisation, must be clearly defined, as they are frequently taken in a very vague sense. Emigration, it is evident, means the going forth of sons from the land of their birth, or of their late residence; but it per