"Quite right, not worth the trouble. I wonder what brings women to assizes, court-houses, fairs, and other haunts of men. Love of law and cattle, I suppose. If the lawyers were of the gentler gender,-are they gentler, Ethna ?-would they have such a feminine audience, do you think?" "I really do not know." 66 Ah, you are getting angry, pardon me for saying it, but all the Moores were a little ill-tempered-or, let us say, spirited-it sounds better. I have reason to know it. But you are changed, Ethna; there was a time when you sat on my lap and kissed me." The girl started; the young man burst out laughing. Come, Ethna," he said, "we must be friends. I am Philip Moore, your cousin, and entitled to be on familiar terms. You were only about eight years old when I saw you last, so I forgive you for forgetting me. Did I try you too much? Are we to be friends ?" He extended his hand, smiling so brightly, that the girl, smiling and relieved, placed hers in it. "I should never know you," she said, "though I remember your being at Mona quiet well." "Twelve years makes a change in the face of man, my fair cousin. I was a beardless boy in those days. It makes me feel as if I were my own grandfather to see you grown into a woman.” "I suppose you will stay at the Lodge for awhile." "Yes. I am home now on sick leave and am, like Cassius, a-weary of the world. I expect you will all pay me a good deal of attention amongst the hills, and make life endurable. I am worn out from the tropics." The young man at whom Ethna was looking did not quite convey the idea of exhausted vitality. He was tall, finely formed, with a dark, handsome face covered with silky beard; the brown eyes were sleepy looking. There was an indolent repose in his manner that bespoke rather a tendency for the doice far niente than a want of force. And Philip Moore's appearance was indicative of his temperament. He was essentially a man of pleasure—a man that took his pleasure with perfect composure and deliberation. He was more an epicure than a glutton; he did not gulp down the wine of life to gratify his thirst alone. He liked to taste it, to hold it between him and the light, to sip it quietly, and watch others who were idiotic enough to become intoxicated. He was liked very well in his regiment; he joined in everything, yet managed in so marvellous a way to keep out of scrapes, that he was regarded as rather a steady fellow. He paid his debts of honour (his tailor's bill not always coming under that head) and acted generally as is the wont of men having a regard for public opinion. There was passion in his nature, but it seldom appeared in his temper, for the reason perhaps that it was not greatly tried. At one time an ingenuous ensign made some remarks which offended him, whereupon Philip Moore silently arose and so nearly strangled him, that ever after it was considered wiser to let "sleeping dogs lie." Philip Moore had felt no particular inclination for matrimony up to the present, and his idea was that if a fellow went in harness, they ought to be golden. Union of hearts, reciprocal affection, mind, soul, were terms that made him smile; for he found women like men, more or less vain, greedy, selfish, and very much alike. He had not much intellectual power, he had no taste for abstract questions or anything tending to a higher level than the one on which he and the generality of his fellow-creatures tried to make themselves comfortable; and, as it may be supposed, spiritual matters concerning the immortal destiny of man, his duties and . responsibilities, did not cause him overmuch mental disturbance. But he was very agreeable and fascinating amongst women, and could see pretty accurately into the natures of those surrounding him. He and Ethna had time to be favourably impressed by each other's external attractions before the other guests arrived and interrupted their tête-à-tête. “She is not bad," he said to himself, "rustic and fresh ; lots of fire in her. I rather like a spirited woman. I am sick of soft ones.' He took her down to dinner, and kept her amused by his remarks on the company. 66 "What pleasure do you find in being ill-natured ?" asked Ethna. "Do you suppose you have no peculiarities yourself?" By Jove, I am a bundle of peculiarities," answered Moore. "That is the reason I have such a relish for those of my neighbours; they prevent mine from coming out in too bold relief Who is the lady opposite with the white teeth?" "The wife of our doctor, Mrs. Smith." "Ah-she should have been the wife of a dentist; she would be quite an advertisment for him. Nature acts kindly in making those who have fine teeth show them largely. You are not afraid to smile, I perceive. Do you ever do so accidentally on purpose, so to speak?" "I think not," said Ethna, laughing. "It is not necessary, as I have the wide Irish mouth." “The beautiful Irish mouth, Cupid's bow," he said, with a slow glance. "I suppose you heard my brother, Harry, has had the bad taste to take an English wife to himself?" "Yes, we saw the marriage in the newspapers. Is she handsome ?" "She is considered so. Not my style, though-I prefer a rose to a lily; there is more warmth about it. The wedding was a great affair. I distinguished myself as an orator-broke down only twice. I wished the race of bridesmaids were in the bottomless pit." "The days of chivalry are gone," said Ethna. ""Tis a long time since any of you were at the Lodge. Do you intend to make any stay there ?" "That depends upon things beyond my control-my changeable impulses, the agreeableness of you and all my neighbours, the amount of sport to be had, the weather, and so on. Harry is to bring over his wife before he settles down again. They are doing the sentimental on the continent, Do you like Harry." "I saw very little of him," answered Ethna, colouring. "The last time he was down he had a large party with him-your sister, too, I think. My mother is a bad visitor; so I scarcely met him. He came once or twice, I believe, to Mona." "Is that the way you care for your relations ?" "I care as much for them as they care for me." "Quite a fair arrangement. If you carry it out with regard to me, I shall be perfectly satisfied." He looked at her, smiling, and stroked his moustache, while the girl laughed, and said she was of a stingy nature-she always measured what she got before she gave. The week was a delightful one. Ethna met Philip Moore every day, and was not indifferent to the fact that she was escorted occasionally by the most distinguished-looking man in town, who was her cousin also. Her maiden acquaintances went into raptures about him. "Who is that with Miss Moore ?" she could hear people whisper, and she passed by people from whom she had received, or fancied she had received, some little social annoyance, in the best possible spirits. But the week followed the course of all other weeks and fell over the brink of time into the unfathomable deeps. Ethna returned to Mona to give her mother a minute account of her experiences and her liking for Philip Moore. ATTIE O'BRIEN.* (To be continued). 0 SAINT AGNES. VIRGIN-MARTYR Saint! how much all love In choosing it, they meant not to declare An only child, one sent to their old age, Should be their Pet Lamb, reared with fondest care, No! They who gave to God their ample wealth, Would not have chosen Agnes for thy name, O Blessed Agnes! Happy martyred Maid! Who lead on earth the angel life of heaven. * The circumstances under which this story of a former contributor, long dead, is printed here were explained last month in the concluding paper, "Thanks Promises and Requests." Soe also the reference to Miss Attie O'Brien in the retrospect with which our present volume opens. ED. I.M. O ye, who call Saint Agnes Patron Saint, Heed well the fiery strife through which she passed; In combat think of her, and do not faint; The crown of life will grace your brows at last, Ah! those were days when Rome picked out by lot The emperor, as Cæsar and High Priest, Thus mournful error mocked and mimicked truth; And those were days, when other Virgins fed These gave a heavenly meaning to the name; They found a blest redemption from the Fall, To pain and torture they indeed aspired- His "lilies among thorns," they were not housed |