like Byron's Mary, on the hill of Annesley, awaiting that mighty hunter, the gallant, handsome Musters, when

66 on the summit of that hill she stood

Looking afar, if yet her lover's steed

Kept pace with her expectancy, and flew.”

Or she might have been "The Gardener's Daughter," when

"Half light, half shade,

She stood, a sight to make an old man young."

But never mind what she might have been, there she was.

"Talk about Helen,

That was a fiction, but this is reality."

And never shall I forget how painfully drear that pedestal seemed, when the statue, descending, took her Papa's arm (Oh, that her beloved Governor were mine also!), and was gone from our gaze, like a beautiful star.

The view from the hill of Killiney is one of the loveliest in this land of loveliness. Seated among the purple and golden flowers, you look over its rocks and trees upon the noble Bay of Dublin, with its waters "bickering in the noontide blaze," and the stately ships gliding to and fro. Below is Kingstown, opposite the old hill of Howth, and in the centre the metropolis of Ireland.

I do not think that one ever has such a happy feeling of entire contentment, as when gazing upon beautiful scenery; and there we sat, in silent admiration, and took no note of time, until the train by which we had proposed to return, awoke us from our dreamy bliss, shrieking at us in derision from below, and steaming off to Dublin. So that, some two hours later, we found our dinners and ourselves a little overdone at Morrisson's; and nothing but some very transcendental claret, and the resilient spirit of roving Englishmen, could have induced us to sally forth once more for the gardens of Porto-Bello.

Becoming acclimatised to the Outside Car, we began to enter into conversation with the drivers, and found them, like all Irishmen, quaint and witty, though their humour, perhaps, does not lie so near the surface as it did before the Famine and Father Matthew. Our charioteer this evening was eloquently invective against a London cab which preceded us, and which he designated as "a baste of a tub." Sure, gintlemen," said he, "and I'm for th' ould style intirely-it's illigant. I tell ye what

* The priest can scarcely have been a descendant of his namesake, the General, who, to the manifest delight of an Irish Parliament, thus spake of potheen :-" The Chancellor on the woolsack drinks it, the Judge on the bench drinks it, the Peer in his robes drinks it, the Beggar with his wallet drinks it, I drink it, every man drinks it."

it is, yer onners," (and he turned to us in impressive confidence, and pointed contemptuously with his whip at the offending vehicle) "I'd lep over the likes o' that with this little mare;" but we earnestly begged he wouldn't.

We were so fortunate as to reach the Porto-Bello Gardens just in time for "The Siege and Capture of Delhi." We had both of us formed most erroneous impressions on the subject, and it was a grand opportunity for ascertaining truth. If the representation was correct, and there seems no reason to mistrust it, as "no expense had been spared," it is high time for the English people to be told that the accounts which have appeared in their newspapers (the graphic, glowing descriptions of Mr. William Russell inclusive) are wickedly and superlatively false !

The city of Delhi is constructed of painted wood, and does not exceed in dimensions a respectable modern residence. Before it, there is a pool of water. The siege commenced with a tune on the key-bugle, and with an appropriate illumination of Bengal lights, which extended over the entire scene of war, and was got up, as we supposed, at the joint expense of the combatants. Then the Anglo-Indian army, which had taken up a perilous position about four yards from the city, led off with a Roman-candle, and the rebels promptly replied with a maroon. The exasperated besiegers now went in, or rather went a long way over, with