face now before her, was not the smooth little
face all wet with tears, she once caressed. The young lord was again a
baby-boy to her; and presently she drew him closer, and began singing
that same nursery song with which she used to soothe him to sleep.

It was a strange sight to see,--that dying woman, rocking herself back
and forth, and singing that wild lullaby, with her staring servitors
and grim old fighters grouped around her, hardly able to believe that
this was indeed their haughty mistress, their brave leader, their bold
sea-captain.

At first, her voice rang out clear and full, but soon it faltered and
failed, and sunk lower and lower. And lower and lower sunk the head of
the old chieftainess, till her long white locks mingled with the dark
curls of the young lord; then her voice ceased altogether, and her
forehead lay heavy and cold against his, and he knew that Grace
O'Malley was dead.

Donnybrook

THE LITTLE FIDDLER.

A mile or two south of Dublin is Donnybrook, the place where a famous
annual fair is held. We happened to be in the city at the time of
this, and one pleasant afternoon we drove out to see this great
gathering of the Irish peasantry. The fair-ground presented a busy,
gay, and curious scene. A large enclosed space was covered with booths
and tents--horse-markets--cattle-markets--buyers, sellers, and crowds
of spectators. There was almost every thing one could think of, for
sale; there were all sorts of games, and sports and shows going on;
there were Ethiopian concerts, plays, exhibitions of Punch and Judy,
little circuses and menageries, jugglers, tumblers, hurdy-gurdy
players, ballad singers, pipers, fiddlers, and dancers.

In nearly all the tents were gay young couples, dancing away as though
for dear life--dancing not alone with their feet, but with their arms,
their heads, and their merry, twinkling eyes. They were not all well
dressed, or even clean, but they seemed happy and healthy, and merrily
snapped their fingers at care. Everywhere there was laughter, and
chatter, and feasting, and frolic; but, I am glad to say, we saw little
tippling, and no quarrelling. It was very different in old times, when
the wild fun of Donnybrook Fair always ended in confusion, drunkenness,
and fighting. This happy change has been effected partly by the
Temperance reform, and partly by the establishment of a strong and
active government police.

Now for a short story of Donnybrook