hness. We get such a desire then to take wing
and leave the parent nest, that no tears, entreaties, or feelings
of affection will counter-balance this overpowering longing after
independence. She must have been very sad, that poor mother of
mine--Heaven be good to her!--at that period of my life; and has often
told me since what a pang of the heart it was to her to see all her care
and affection of years forgotten by me in a minute, and for the sake of
a little heartless jilt, who was only playing with me while she could
get no better suitor. For the fact is, that during the last four weeks
of my illness, no other than Captain Quin was staying at Castle Brady,
and making love to Miss Nora in form. My mother did not dare to break
this news to me, and you may be sure that Nora herself kept it a secret:
it was only by chance that I discovered it.

Shall I tell you how? The minx had been to see me one day, as I sat up
in my bed, convalescent; she was in such high spirits, and so gracious
and kind to me, that my heart poured over with joy and gladness, and I
had even for my poor mother a kind word and a kiss that morning. I felt
myself so well that I ate up a whole chicken, and promised my uncle, who
had come to see me, to be ready against partridge-shooting, to accompany
him, as my custom was.

The next day but one was a Sunday, and I had a project for that day
which I determined to realise, in spite of all the doctor's and my
mother's injunctions: which were that I was on no account to leave the
house, for the fresh air would be the death of me.

Well, I lay wondrous quiet, composing a copy of verses, the first I ever
made in my life; and I give them here, spelt as I spelt them in those
days when I knew no better. And though they are not so polished and
elegant as 'Ardelia ease a Love-sick Swain,' and 'When Sol bedecks the
Daisied Mead,' and other lyrical effusions of mine which obtained me
so much reputation in after life, I still think them pretty good for a
humble lad of fifteen:--

THE ROSE OF FLORA.

Sent by a Young Gentleman of Quality to Miss Brady, of Castle Brady.

On Brady's tower there grows a flower,
It is the loveliest flower that blows,--
At Castle Brady there lives a lady
(And how I love her no one knows):
Her name is Nora, and the goddess Flora
Presents her with this blooming rose.

'O Lady Nora,' says the goddess Flora,
'I've many a rich and bright parterre;
In Brady's towers there'