terwards proved, with bitterness, and James Magan, alias Middleton, was united under his proper name by the Honourable and Rev. Rector of St Anne's, Dublin, to his first and then his only love! Here I would fain draw the veil, for the sequel is full of sorrow; but, alas! it is matter of notoriety, that a few short years saw this once proudly aspiring, yet amiable young man, the slave of the grossest sensuality. His first liaison was stated to have been with the then well-known Miss Maria Campion, a young actress on the Dublin boards, who died in 1803, his indiscreet attention to whom, both off and on the stage, first lost him the favour of the Irish public, who are unfashionable enough to discourage vice even when accompanied with all the splendour of dramatic talent, while they delight to honour that virtue and integrity of principle which is found capable of resisting the allurements by which youth, beauty, and accomplishment are assailed. Witness the reception of a certain vocalist, within our recent recollections, as contrasted with the distinguished compliment paid to that excellent young woman, Miss Stephens, on her departure from Dublin some years before, when a train of nearly one hundred carriages, full of respectable matrons, gracing this unsullied ornament of her profession, formed a flattering cavalcade to escort her to the place of embarkation, and to render homage to that rare phenomenon in these days, a young, a handsome, a splendidly gifted, and yet virtuous actress. Tempted to repair to London, Middleton appeared on the metropolitan stage, with a fair portion of success. His provincial engagements were respectable and lucrative; his wife was all in love, in virtue, and conduct, that the proudest heart could covet: yet he fell! fell to a depth, beyond all human expectation, base and lowly. Suffice it to wind up this painful episode, that after struggling through a life of vice, drunkenness, and occasional insanity, he was found in a dying state one morning in the purlieus of Covent Garden, and shortly after resigned a life worthless to himself, and disgraceful to his con nexions. The respected and much pitied wife, who had been long widowed from the object of her first, her fondest love and hope, was not in these trying moments deserted by her friends. Under their protection and aid, she established a boarding-school in the vicinity of Bath, where her exemplary conduct and superior talents soon extended the circle of patronage; and it is to be hoped the lenient hand of time poured its tenderest balm in the wounds of a gentle heart, and soothed the sorrows of her, who, of all God's creatures, seemed to deserve them least. CHAPTER VI. "Memory decks my wasted heart, OUR next breaking up, once more brought me to renew my solicitation to my father to enter me in the navy. Unable, or unwilling to resist my daily importunities, he promised compliance; but, as a probationary step, he prevailed on his friend, Sir James Bristow, who then commanded the Revenue eighteen-gun brig, the L'Auguste, to take me with him on his approaching quarterly cruise. I was equipped accordingly, and departed high in crest and pocket: thanks to the liberality of both parents. The northern coast of Ireland, and that of the Isle of Man, was Sir James's appointed cruising station; every harbour, creek, and cove of which became familiar to me. I almost fancied, after a few weeks' experience on board, that I could steer the gallant brig from the Copeland to Douglas Pier Light without log, line, or compass. The latter was endeared to me from its association with the lovely Manx lasses, to whose smiles it often lighted me. Now let me, indulgent reader, refer you to my introductory observation, that the character of the future man is greatly influenced, if not entirely formed, by the example of those whose conduct is his guide. Recollect, also, that from certain little hints I have given of my father's amiable propensity to gallantry, I was, at an early period of my life, led to believe that of all sins the most venial were "little sinnings in love." Be not, therefore, too severe, nor fling down my book in a burst of virtuous indignation at those candid confessions, which may, in the course of my work, occasionally appear, as little beacons to warn the young voyager for life. The dawn of manhood broke upon me in the Isle of Man-the Cyprus of our clusterwhere I completed my fifteenth year. I was rather more in appearance, as I am told; neither tall nor short of my years, nor dark nor fair—rather, I should imagine, inclining to the former, -had quite enough to say for myself, whatever was its quality, lively tempered, well dressed in general, and quite as forward as these humble pretensions authorized. Shield and Hook were the Apollos, in whose strains we swore and sung our love ditties, while that prince of bons vivants, Morris, bore the bell in Bacchanalians. Equally au fait at both, at this stage of my life I became but too much in request to avoid the indulgence, and its consequences, of this dangerous talent, of being able to "sing a good song." My father's friend was, to all intents and purposes, a man of pleasure, caressed and esteemed wherever he went. Sir James Bristow was then about thirtytwo years of age, handsome in countenance, manly in figure, with a degree of dash about him, which, in the sphere he moved, was irresistible. He was the theme of many a hardfought action; equally admired for his gallantry in the combat, as beloved for his moderation in the hour of triumph, towards those unfortunates whose lawless life threw them into his power. He might have been a Nelson had the sphere of his services been enlarged, but circumscribed to the humblest span, he could only show in that little orb the courage and generosity of a nature which well deserved a nobler field for action. Such was the man to whom my father (himself not strait-laced) committed me. After our three months' delightful cruise, nearly one-half of which, to say the truth, was passed at the romantic little town of Douglas, in the Isle of Man, not in those days, as now, the refuge for insolvency and dishonour, we set sail for Dublin bay. Never shall I forget the dismal morning of our departure: my vain and foolish heart sunk in despair as I took my farewell look of that pier on which were collected all the youth and beauty of the town, to wave their adieus to the handsome commander and his young companion; that pier and its lovely group, which I was destined to look on and admire for the last time. Memory calls up the vision of those early days of youthful joy, and I dream again of love and pleasure, fled, alas, for ever! As I view my shrunk and faded visage, my bald and wrinkled front, my scattered locks, now few and hoary, I almost doubt the reality of those by-gone scenes; but there are some minds so constituted that neither time nor adversity can subdue their natural vivacity: this is fortunately my happy temperament, and I turn from the mortifying reflection of present self, and flying to the mirror of memory, roam once more in the regions of boyish fancy, where all was bright, and young, and fresh. My eyes were fixed on the rocky shores of Man, until its last peak sunk in the hazy horizon; then I sighed, I wept, and -went to dinner. In the cheerful glass and merry song sweet Douglas and its lovely lasses were remembered; and brimful bumpers did homage to their charms. I fancy the bottle had too many for me that night, for I found myself tucked up in my berth after a few hours' delirious repose, without exactly recollecting at what time and under what circumstances I got there. About six in the morning I was awakened from my sound second slumber by an unusual bustle on deck; and before I could collect my scattered ideas, my brave commander was at my berth-side, urging me to rise with more than ordinary expedition, adding his expressions of regret that we must part company in the course of an hour, in consequence of circumstances which he would hereafter explain to me. This com munication, and the seriousness with which he urged me to hurry my toilet, sobered me at once: I sprang up and was soon dressed for the day, and ready for all events. On ascending the deck I saw a long six-oared black cutter in tow, and some strange ill-looking fellows in close conference with the captain abaft. We were little more than a league to the eastward of Lambay, and about six from Dublin harbour, between our brig and which I could discern one of the revenue wherries,* (the cut of whose jib was known to me,) standing off and on, under the lightest air of wind, as if waiting for orders. Of the cause of these appearances I was not long kept in ignorance. While discussing our excellent breakfast, the gallant knight in a few words announced the necessity of my immediate departure, having just received secret information which required him to proceed, without a moment's delay, to a certain part of the coast, to intercept the celebrated and hitherto unconquered smuggler, the "Morgan Rattler," which, with a crew of nearly one hundred men, and armed with eighteen guns, had been for some days off the northern coast, waiting a convenient opportunity for discharging a valuable cargo; and he would incur the displeasure of the revenue board by keeping a stranger in his vessel. This intelligence was brought by the crew of the boat astern, who (partly for the sake of reward, and also in revenge for some real or imagined wrongs on the part of the daring outlaw who had the command of this powerful lugger) deserted two nights before, when sent to reconnoitre the shore, and who, instead of returning, crept along the coast with their boat, until they fell in with the wherry then in sight, and which was one of those employed on the "look-out duty." They had made their terms with the commander. One of the most intelligent remained on board the brig: the six others had stipulated for their liberty, and, with their boat, were to be released when a league or two from VOL. I. * A shallop-rigged vessel, of about twenty tons. 3 Skerries or Lambay. To their care I was to be consigned for my passage to the ferry, or to the island of Lambay, as I should choose, where the wherry men could pick me up. I had scarcely half an hour to put up all my traps, while Sir James was writing his letters to the revenue board, of which I was to be the bearer to the coxswain of the wherry. All being ready, my things were lowered into the smugglers' cutter. With the man-rope in one hand, my generous and gallant commander's in the other, I endeavoured to express my thanks for all his kindness, but I could not find utterance for half the grateful feelings which swelled my heart. He saw my embarrassment; and, returning the pressure of my hand with a hearty squeeze of both of his, said, "Farewell, my boy! if I have made you happy, that is all I wished: we may meet again.—Remember your friend, James Bristow !" "Remember thee;" ay, thou gallant soul! "while memory holds her seat." The various orders for making all sail died on my ear, while, with fixed gaze, I took a parting look at the beautiful brig as she appeared gently stealing her way on the glassy bosom of the ocean, with outspread canvass inviting the vagrant breeze, which approached it in those transient flaws called, by the sailors, "cats' paws," and which here and there disported around, rippling into dark patches the shining surface of the waters, at once encouraging and tantalizing the anxious seaman's hopes. Our boat cut her way with rapidity towards the shore under the guidance of my helm. I marked the countenance of her crew: they had led a life of danger and of crime. Besides the hazards of the element on which they carried on their precarious trade they had often to fight for life and liberty, even, "with the halter round the neck." Defeat to them was certain, ignominious death! They seemed to feel that self-degradation with which their base desertion of their comrades had branded them, and gave way on their oars in sullen silence. Half an hour's labour, during which time they did not exchange one word with each other, brought our boat to the side of a shelving rock, from whence all my baggage was passed from hand to hand to a projecting cliff, more than twenty feet above the high-water mark. One of them said, "Now, plase your honour, we must lave you." Poor wretches! I pitied while I condemned them. Bestowing on them a few shillings, and thanking them for their speed, I saw them depart towards the Skerries shore: a low promontory soon shut them from my view. I was now alone! The most profound silence reigned around: the gulls, razor-bills, sea-parrots, and puffers, of which there were myriads on the surrounding rocks, having satisfied their early cravings, were either basking in supine content on |