had not; and listened patiently while his master descanted critically on the different styles of art, and his own especial tact and skill in discriminating between them.

"You'll look after these police returns then, Stubber," said he at last. "You'll let these people understand that we can suffice for the administration of our own Duchy. We neither want advice from Metternich, nor battalions from Radetzky. The laws here are open to every man; and if we have any claim to the gratitude of our people, it rests on our character for justice."

While he spoke with a degree of earnestness that indicated sincerity, there was something in the expression of his eye, a half malicious drollery in its twinkle-that made it exceedingly difficult to say whether his words were uttered in honesty of purpose, or in mere mockery and derision. Whether Stubber rightly understood their import is more than we are able to say; but it is very probable that he was, with all his shrewdness, mystified by one whose nature was a puzzle to himself.

"Let Marocchi return to Cararra,

Say we have taken the matter into our own hands. Charge the brigadier in command of the gendarmerie there. Tell the canonico Baldetti that we look to him and his deacons for true reports of any movement that is plotting in the town. I take no steps with regard to Wahlstein for the present, but let him be closely watched. And then, Stubber, send off an estafette to Pietro Santa for the ortolans, for I think we have earned our breakfast by all this attention to state affairs," and then, with a laugh, whose accents gave not the very faintest clue to its meaning, he lay back on his pillow again.

"And these two prisoners, your Highness, what is to be done with them ?"

"Whatever you please, Stubber. Give them the third-class cross of Massa; or, a month's imprisonment, at your own good pleasure. Only no more business-no papers to sign -noschemes to unravel; and so, good night!" And the Chevalier retired at once from a presence which he well knew resented no injury so unmercifully as any invasion of the personal comfort.

Ir was with no small astonishment young Massy heard that he and his faithful follower were not alone restored to liberty, but that an order of his Highness had assigned them a residence in a portion of the palace, and a promise of future employment.

"This smacks of Turkish rather than of European rule," said the youth. "In prison yesterday-in a palace to-day. My own fortunes are wayward enough, heaven knows, not to require any additional ingredient of uncertainty. What think you,

Traynor ?"

"I'm thinkin'," said Billy gravely, "that as the bastes of the field are guided by their instincts to objects that suit their natures, so man ought, by his reason, to be able to pilot himself in difficulties-choosin' this, avoidin' that-seein' by the eye of prophecy where a road would lead him, and makin' of what seem the accidents of life, steppin'-stones to fortune."

"In what way does your theory apply here?" cried the other. "How am I to guess whither this current may carry me?"

"At all events, there's no use wastin' your strength by swimmin' against it," rejoined Billy.

"To be the slave of some despot's whim-the tool of a caprice that may elevate me to-day, and to-morrow sentence me to the galleys. The object I have set before myself in life is to be independent. Is this, then, the road to it?"

"You're tryin' to be what no man ever was, or will be, to the world's end, then," said Billy. "Sure it's the very nature and essence of our life here below, that we are dependant one on the other for kindness, for affection, for material help in time of difficulty, for counsel in time of doubt. The rich man and the poor one have their mutual dependencies; and if it wasn't so, cowld-hearted and

"You mistake my meaning," said Massy, sternly, "as you often do, to read ine a lesson on a text of your own. When I spoke of independence, I meant freedom for the serfdom of another's charity. I would that my luck here, at least, should be of my own procuring."

get mine from you," said Traynor, calmly, "and never felt myself a slave on that account."

"Forgive me, my dear, kind friend. I could hate myself if I gave you a moment's pain. This temper of mine does not improve by time.”

"There's one way to conquer it. Don't be broodin' on what's within. Don't be magnifyin' your evil fortunes to your own heart, till you come to think the world all little and yourself all great. Go out to your daily labour, whatever it be, with a stout spirit to do your best, and a thankful, grateful heart, that you are able to do it. Never let it out of your mind, that if there's many a one your inferior, winnin' his way up to fame and fortune before you, there's just as many better than you toilin' away unseen and unnoticed, wearin' out genius in a garret, and carryin' off a God-like intellect to an obscure grave!"

"You talk to me as though my crying sins were an overweening vanity," said the youth, half angrily.

"Well, it's one of them," said Billy; and the blunt frankness of the avowal threw the boy into a fit of laughing.

"You certainly do not intend to spoil me, Billy," said he, still laughing.

"Why would I do what so many is ready to do for nothing? What does the crowd that praise the work of a young man of genius care where they're leadin' him to? It's like people callin' out to a strong swimmer, 'Go out farther, and farther-out to the open say, where the waves is rolling big, and the billows is roughest, that's worthy of you, in your strong might and your stout limbs. Lave the still water and the shallows to the weak and the puny. Your course is on the mountain wave, over the bottomless ocean.' It's little they think, if he's ever to get back again. 'Tis their boast and their pride that they said, 'Go on;' and when his cold

corpse comes washed to shore, all they have is a word of derision and scorn for one who ventured beyond his powers."

"How you cool down one's ardour; with what pleasure you check every impulse that nerves one's heart for high daring!" said the youth, bitterly. "These eternal warnings-these never-ending forebodings of failureare sorry stimulants to energy."

"Isn't it better for you to have all your reverses at the hands of a crayture as humble as me?" said Billy, while the tears glistened in his eyes. "What good am I, except for this!"

In a moment the boy's arms were around him, while he cried out :

"There; forgive me once more, and let me try if I cannot amend a temper that any but yourself had grown weary of correcting. I'll work-I'll labour-I'll submit-I'll accept the daily rubs of life, as others take them, and you shall be satisfied with me. We shall go back to all our old pursuits, my dear Billy. I'll join all your ecstacies over Eschylus, and believe as much as I can of Herodotus, to please you. You shall lead me to all the wonders of the stars, and dazzle me with the brightness of visions that my intellect is lost in; and in revenge I only ask that you should sit with me in the studio, and read to me some of those old songs of Horace, that move the heart like old wine. Shall I own to you what it is which sways me thus uncertainly-jarring every cord of my existence, making my life a sea of stormy conflict? Shall I tell you?"

He grasped the other's hand with both his own as he spoke, and while his lips quivered in strong emotion,

went on.

"It is this, then. I cannot forget, do all that I will,--I cannot root out of my heart what I once believed myself to be. You know what I mean. Well, there it is still, like the sense of a wrong or foul injustice, as though I had been robbed and cheated of what never was mine! This contrast between the life my earliest hopes had pictured and that which I am destined to, never leaves me. All your teachings and I have seen how devotedly you have addressed yourself to this lesson-have not eradicated from my nature the proud instincts that guided my childhood. Often

and often have you warmed my blood by thoughts of a triumph to be achieved by me hereafter-how men should recognise me as a genius, and elevate me to honours and rewards; and yet would I barter such success, ten thousand times told, for an hour of that high station that comes by birth alone, independent of all effortthe heirloom of deeds chronicled centuries back, whose actors have been dust for ages. That is real pride," cried he, enthusiastically, "and has no alloy of the petty vanity that mingles with the sense of a personal triumph."

Traynor hung his head heavily as the youth spoke, and a gloomy melancholy settled on his features: the sad conviction came home to him of all his counsels being fruitless-all his teachings in vain; and as the boy sat wrapt in a wild dreamy reverie of ancestral greatness, the humble peasant brooded darkly over the troubles such a temperament might evoke.

"It is agreed that"-cried Massy, suddenly, "that we are to accept of this great man's bounty, live under his roof, and eat his bread. Well, I accede as well his as another's. Have you seen the home they destine for us?"

"Yes; it's a real paradise, and in a garden that would beat Adam's, now," exclaimed Traynor; "for there's marble fountains, and statues, and temples, and grottoes in it; and it's as big as a parish, and as wild as a wilderness. And better than all, there's a little pathway leads to a private stair that goes up into the library of the palace a spot nobody ever enters, and where you may study the whole day long without hearin' a footstep. All the books is there that ever was written, and manuscripts without end besides; and the minister says I'm to have my own kay, and go in and out whenever I plaze; 'And if there's anything wantin',' says he, 'just order it on a slip of paper and send it to me, and you'll have it at once'. When Í asked if I ought to spake to the librarian himself, he only laughed, and said, 'That's me; but I'm never there. Take my word for it, doctor, you'll have the place to yourself.'"

He spoke truly: Billy Traynor had it indeed to himself. There, the grey dawn of morning and the last shadows of evening ever found him, seated in

one of those deep, cell-like recesses of the windows; the table, the seats, the very floor littered with volumes, which, revelling in the luxury of wealth, he had accumulated around him. His greedy avidity for knowledge knew no bounds. The miser's thirst for gold was weak in comparison with that intense craving that seized upon him. Historians, critics, satirists, poets, dramatists, metaphysicians, never came amiss to a mind bent on acquiring. The life he led was like the realization of a glorious dreamthe calm repose, the perfect stillness of the spot, the boundless stores that lay about him; the growing sense of power, as day by day his intellect expanded; new vistas opened themselves before him, and new and unproved sources of pleasure sprung up in his nature. The never-ending variety gave a zest, too, to his labors that averted all weariness; and at last he divided his time ingeniously, alternating grave and difficult subjects with lighter topics-making, as he said himself, "Aristophanes digest Plato."

And what of young Massy all this while? His life was a dream, too, but of another and different very kind. Visions of a glorious future, attended with sad and depressing thoughts; bigh darings, and hopeless views of what lay before him, came and went, and went and came again. The Duke, who had just taken his departure for some watering-place in Germany, gave him an order for certain statues, the models for which were to be ready by his return—at least, in that sketchy state of which clay is even more susceptible than canvass. The young artist chafed and fretted under the restraint of an assigned task. It was gall to his haughty nature to be told that his genius should accept dictation, and his fancy be fettered by the suggestions of another. If he tried to com

bat this rebellious spirit, and addressed himself steadily to labour, he found that his imagination grew sluggish and his mind uncreative. The sense of serviutde oppressed him; and though he essayed to subdue himself to the condition of an humble artist, the old pride still rankled in his heart, and spirited him to a haughty resistance. His days thus passed over in vain attempts to work,

or still more unprofitable lethargy. He lounged through the deserted garden, or lay half dreamily in the long deep grass, listening to the cicala or watching the emerald-backed lizards as they lay basking in the sun. He drank in all the soft voluptuous influences of a climate which steeps the

senses in a luxurious stupor, making the commonest existence a toil, but giving to mere indolence all

the zest of a rich enjoyment. Sometimes he wandered into the library, and noiselessly drew nigh the spot where Billy sat deeply busied in his books. He would gaze silently, half curiously, at the poor fellow, and then steal silently away, pondering on the blessings of that poor peasant's nature, and wondering what in his own organization had denied him the calm happiness of this humble man's life.

IRELAND, says a popular Scottish writer, can boast not only of having transplanted more of her sons to the soil of Spain than either of the sister kingdoms, but of having acquired by the deeds of her exiles a degree of renown to which the others cannot aspire.

True it is, that in every land brave men find a home!

The deeds of the Irish regiments in the Spanish service, during the war of the Succession, like those of the O'Donnels in the war of the Peninsula, and the civil strife of more recent times, would fill volumes. Of the Spanish Lacys we have already given a memoir in our number for March, last year; and of many other brave Irish soldiers of fortune, who won distinction on the soil or in the service of Spain, we can here give but the names alone.

In 1780, Colonel O'Moore commanded the Royal Walloon Guards of Charles III. In 1799, Field Marshal Arthur O'Neil was GovernorGeneral of Yucatan under the same monarch, and commanded the flotilla of thirty-one vessels which made an unsuccessful attack on the British settlements in the Bay of Honduras. In the same year, Don Gonzalo O'Farrel was the Spanish Ambassador at the Court of Berlin, and in 1808 he was Minister of War for Spain. In 1797, O'Higgins was Viceroy of Peru, under Charles IV., one of whose best generals was the famous Alexander Count O'Reilly.

Don Pedro O'Daly was Governor of Rosas, when it was besieged by Gouvion St. Cyr in 1809; and General John O'Donoughue was Chief of

Cuesta's staff, and one of the few able officers about the person of that indolent and obstinate old hidalgo, whose incapacity nearly caused the ruin of the Spanish affairs at the commencement of the Peninsula war. He died Viceroy of Mexico in 1821 O'Higgins was Viceroy of Peru under Ferdinand VI. and the third and fourth Charles of Spain. He signalized himself with great bravery in the wars with the Arraucanos, a nation on the coast of Chili, who were ultimately subdued by him and subjected to the Spanish rule. John Campbell, a midshipman who escaped from the wreck of the Wager, one of Commodore Anson's squadron which was lost on the large Island of Tierra del Fuego, and who arrived, after inconceivable sufferings, at St. Jago de Chili, furnished O'Higgins with various notes and outlines of the coast, with other memoranda concerning the natives, all of which he had ingeniously written on the bark of trees. These observations, which were afterwards printed in England, were of the greatest value to O'Higgins, who was wont to affirm that by the knowledge they gave him of the barbarians under his government, "he owed the foundation of his good fortune to Campbell."

In 1765, he marched against the Arraucanos with a battalion of Chilian Infantry, and fifteen hundred Horse, named Maulinians. He was thrice brought to the ground by having three horses killed under him; but the Arraucanos were routed, and the Spanish rule extended over all Peru, of which he died Viceroy in the beginning of the present century, after

fighting the battles of Rancagua and Talchuana, which secured the independence of Chili.

Few names bear a more prominent place in Spanish history than those of Blake, the Captain-General of the Coronilla, and O'Reilly, a soldier of fortune, who saved the life of Charles III. during the revolt at Madrid, and who reformed and disciplined anew the once noble army of Spain.

Alexander Count O'Reilly was born in Ireland about 1735, of Roman Catholic parents, and when young entered the Spanish service as a sublieutenant in the Irish regiment with which he served in Italy during the war of the Spanish Succession, and received a wound from which he was a little lame for the rest of his life. In 1751 he went to serve in Austria, and made two campaigns against the Prussians, under the orders of Marshal Count Lacy, his countryman. Then in 1759 he passed into the service of Louis XV., under whose colours was still that celebrated Irish Brigade whose native bravery so mainly contributed to win for France the glory of Fontenoy.

O'Reilly distinguished himself so much that the Marshal de Broglie recommended him to the King of Spain, with great warmth of expres sion, on his retiring to Madrid. The Marshal's interest won him the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel, and as such he served in that war which conduced so little to the glory of Portugal, though favoured by the alliance of Britain. Nevertheless, O'Reilly found many opportunities for distinction at the head of the light troops which were confided to him, and soon won the proud reputation of being one of Spain's most gallant officers. He was now named Brigadier of the Armies of the King, with the post of aide major de l'exercise. In these capacities he drilled the Spanish Infantry according to the best system of tactics and exercise then practised in the British service.

At the Peace he was appointed Mariscal de Campo, and named Commandant en Seconde of Havannah, which was to be given up to Spain by the treaty of Fontainbleau.

On ar

riving there, he restored and strengthened the fortifications of the colony, and soon after returned to Spain, where the King named him

Inspector-General of Infantry, and desired him to assist in the manœuvres of a great camp, of which he gave him command. He then sent him to New Orleans, where the inhabitants had scarcely become accustomed to the Spanish yoke, and where the rigorous means employed by O'Reilly to subdue them gained him many enemies. The Count returned again to Madrid, and was treated with every mark of favour by Charles III., who knew all his talents, capacity, and courage; and could never forget that it was to the strong hand and stout heart of O'Reilly he owed his life during the fiery sedition at Madrid in 1765, when the people rose in arms. Every honour Charles could bestow upon a foreigner was showered upon O'Reilly, who now gave the Spanish army (which was many years behind every other in Europe in the march of progression and improvement) a new spirit, vigour, and impulse. In this task he was assisted by his brotherin-law, Francisco Xavier Castanos, afterwards Duke of Baylen, CaptainGeneral of Estremadura, Old Castile, and Galicia, whom he took with him to Prussia when he visited that country, in common with all the principal officers of Europe, to witness and examine the manoeuvres practised by the troops of the Great Frederick.

In 1774, he obtained command of the expedition against Algiers. The great means of attack were entirely confided to him, and he sailed from the Spanish coast with a squadron of forty sail of the line and three hundred and fifty transports, carrying an army of thirty thousand men; but this immense armament failed to achieve its object, and O'Reilly was compelled to bear away for Spain, humiliated and mortified, and landed his discomfited troops at Barcelona, on the 24th of August in the same year. Though this unfortunate result was much against his reputation as a general, it did not lessen his favour with the King, who placed him at the head of a military school, which was established in Avila, at Puerto de Santa Maria, on the Adaga in Old Castile.

Soon after this, O'Reilly was named Captain-General of Andaluzia and Gçvernor of Cadiz; in these important posts he displayed the talents of a skilful soldier and able administrator;