ntance to intimacy, and from intimacy to friendship
is proverbially rapid; and young O'Connor and I became, in less than a
month, close and confidential companions--an intercourse which ripened
gradually into an attachment ardent, deep, and devoted--such as I
believe young hearts only are capable of forming.

He had been left early fatherless, and the representative and heir of
his family. His mother's affection for him was intense in proportion as
there existed no other object to divide it--indeed--such love as that
she bore him I have never seen elsewhere. Her love was better bestowed
than that of mothers generally is, for young O'Connor, not without some
of the faults, had certainly many of the most engaging qualities of
youth. He had all the frankness and gaiety which attract, and the
generosity of heart which confirms friendship; indeed, I never saw a
person so universally popular; his very faults seemed to recommend
him; he was wild, extravagant, thoughtless, and fearlessly
adventurous--defects of character which, among the peasantry of Ireland,
are honoured as virtues. The combination of these qualities, and the
position which O'Connor occupied as representative of an ancient Irish
Catholic family--a peculiarly interesting one to me, one of the old
faith--endeared him to me so much that I have never felt the pangs of
parting more keenly than when it became necessary, for the finishing of
his education, that he should go abroad.

Three years had passed away before I saw him again. During the interval,
however, I had frequently heard from him, so that absence had not abated
the warmth of our attachment. Who could tell of the rejoicings that
marked the evening of his return? The horses were removed from the
chaise at the distance of a mile from the castle, while it and its
contents were borne rapidly onward almost by the pressure of the
multitude, like a log upon a torrent. Bonfires blared far and
near--bagpipes roared and fiddles squeaked; and, amid the thundering
shouts of thousands, the carriage drew up before the castle.

In an instant young O'Connor was upon the ground, crying, 'Thank you,
boys--thank you, boys;' while a thousand hands were stretched out from
all sides to grasp even a finger of his. Still, amid shouts of 'God
bless your honour--long may you reign!' and 'Make room there, boys!
clear the road for the masther!' he reached the threshold of the castle,
where stood his mother weeping for joy.

Oh