t the latter long continued to wear a countenance
expressive of a deeply wounded, but resigned spirit. Even this, however,
gradually gave way beneath the influence of time; and, when seventeen years
had passed away, as they now did, unmarked by the occurrence, at Castle
Tulim, of any event of the smallest importance, the lady of M'Morrough had
long been in the possession of her wonted cheerfulness.

It was about the end of this period, that the haughty chieftain, now
somewhat subdued by age, and no longer under the evil influence of those
ungovernable passions that had run riot with him in his more vigorous
years, was invited, along with his lady, to a great entertainment which was
about to be given by his father-in-law. M'Morrough and his lady proceeded
to the castle of their relative. The banquet hall was lighted up; it was
hung with banners, crowded with gay assemblage, and filled with music.
There were many fair faces in that assemblage; but the fairest of all, were
those of two sisters, who sat apart by themselves. The beauty of
countenance and elegance of form of these two girls, who seemed to be both
about the same age--seventeen--were surpassing. M'Morrough marked them; he
watched them during the dance; he could not keep his eyes off them. At
length, turning to his lady, he asked who they were.

"They are _your_ daughters, M'Morrough," replied the former.

A deadly paleness overspread the countenance of the chief. He shook in
every limb, and would have sunk on the floor had he not been supported. On
recovering a little, he covered his face with his hands, burst into a flood
of tears, and rushed out of the apartment. On gaining a retired and
unoccupied chamber, M'Morrough sent for his daughters. When they came, they
found him on his knees, fervently thanking God for this signal instance of
his mercy and beneficence. He took his daughters in his arms, blessed them
a thousand times over, buried his head between them, and wept like a child.

THE SURGEON'S TALES.

THE BEREAVED.

By looking over the memorial of my professional life; and writing out the
extended details of my experience, I am, in effect, living my life over
again. Most of the scenes I witnessed left such an impression upon my mind,
that it requires only the touch of the _caduceus_ of the witching power of
memory, to call them all up again with a vividness scarcely less than that
by which they were formerly presented to me. There is only thi