As they rode out of the wood they discovered that The revolution of Malachie

this was indeed the case. had taken place on the preceding night, and fire and sword had been sent through all the dwellings of the Danes. Understanding that the monarch had proceeded with his victorious troops in the direction of Armagh, Ollam and his companion immediately retraced their steps, and soon after noon found themselves in the neighbourhood of the oaken grove where they had met.

The afternoon was close and sultry, when they arrived at the ruined hamlet of a Danish colony, at the foot of the Fews. They had journeyed almost the whole of the preceding morning without taking food or drink of any kind, and they were both almost in the last stage of exhaustion. The hobbeler, however, was unwilling to pause in his journey for any considerable period. He was to deliver his errand immediately to Malachie, and the king was yet far distant.

"I can go no farther," said the Crotarie, descending from the hobbie, and leaning against the hurdle wall of a hut; "I have no errand to give, and I will go no further until I am less thirsty."

"But where should we look for it here ?" asked his companion; "the place is desolate.. The arms of Malachie have made the houses tenantless; and, although the doors are open, there is neither welcome nor refreshment."

A rough deep voice from the ruined shieling answered

him: "What O'Melachlin has left me," said the concealed person, "you are welcome to share with mealthough you carry the arms of the spoiler."

They turned, and beheld a pale man, having a singular likeness to the vanquished Dane, and with a slight streak of blood on his face, standing in the doorway. He held towards the hobbeler a cup of mead, and said, "It is not six hours since your brethren entered my hut, and left me wifeless and childless, by my hearthstone. This is all that I have to offer you. There is death on

my floor, or I would bid you enter.”

The hobbeler took the draught, and was about to lift it to his lips, when the eye of his companion met his own. There was an irresistible entreaty in his glance.

"My bowels are on fire," he said, "and yet I will not drink, my friend, until you have tasted. Here, take the cup, but drain it not to the dregs; I burn since I saw the liquor. One mouthful will save my life, and mercy leave me that!"

in

"In mercy leave him that!" echoed the Dane.

The selfish nature of the Crotarie prevailed over his better feeling. He not only accepted the cup, but held it to his lips until the last drop had left the vessel. As he raised his eyes, a singular expression on the features of the Dane made his heart bound with fear.

"I have but one !" exclaimed the giver of the drink, "the churl has cheated me of the better life. What, you feel it sting you already? You are meat for

worms, young fool; my draught was poisoned! I have lessened the number of my country's foes, and repaid the thrust that killed my brother on this morning. I know you both; I saw you murder him!"

Saying this, he flung his mantle open, and showed a wound so ghastly that it left even the entrails visible. The action destroyed him, and he fell without a

murmur.

The generous hobbeler supported his companion to the neighbouring bank, but it was a corpse that he laid upon the flowers. He sunk on his knees, and remained overwhelmed with sudden grief, horror, detestation, and gratitude-all taking, alternately, tumultuous possession of his spirit. He lived long after in the service of his prince, and the recollection of the miserable death of the sensualist confirmed him in those habits of self-denial, to which he owed his life.

CHAPTER XIV.

Of the Intellect.

I HAVE now, my dear Cyriac, described to you all that is known by scientific men of those five senses by which the groundwork of all our external knowledge is transmitted to the mind. The ideas which they furnish are, however, few and simple, in comparison with the vast store of information which the human intellect is capable of containing. The power of perceiving those ideas, of retaining and reproducing them, of combining them into new forms, and thus multiplying them to infinity, of inferring from them certain abstract conclusions and rules of conduct, and of acting on, or against those rules, are all attributed to the mind itself; and these several faculties are denominated perception, memory, imagination, judgment, will. Concerning the nature of those qualities, science has been continually putting forth conjectures; but most men are agreed that the ablest of those theories is rather calculated to afford amusement by its ingenuity than to elucidate the original mystery.

Let us examine an occurrence in which all the faculties above-mentioned are exerted. Suppose Automathes,

after he has seen fire for the first time, and burned his hand through ignorance of its quality, for the first time likewise beholds a pool of water. Perception here informs him of its presence. Having no doubt of its solidity, he is about to walk upon it, when Memory reproduces the idea of the strange body which burned him the day before, and the idea of his ignorance which induced him to examine it too rashly. Imagination combines those ideas with that of the new object, and suggests the idea of some new power in the latter and probable danger connected with it. Judgment infers from this, that it will be more prudent to abstain from going within the danger of the new object until its nature and powers are fully understood. The Will of Automathes acts on this conclusion, and he is saved from drowning. This is a pure and abstract deduction of the reason, of which no instance has ever been observed in animals beneath the human species.

One proof of the superior and independent excellence of this lofty endowment may be found in the fact that the brute creation have got the senses in far greater perfection than man, and yet their external knowledge is a blank in comparison with his. A raven can scent its prey at a distance of many leagues; a hog can smell a truffle that is buried under the earth; an eagle can see an object with distinctness at the distance of several miles; the fall of a leaf cannot escape the ear of a sleeping hare; the polypus, says Dumeril, is capable of perceiving light itself by its