· True, sir,' he answered; 'and I shall presently account for having been enabled to do so. I have also heard you remark with wonder that our fair friend here, the young Marfreda, had preserved so many traces of Irish descent in her features and disposition, while, as you supposed, centuries had elapsed since the blood of Erin mingled with that of Vidalin. But what I am about to relate may clear away your difficulties on both points. I was brought up under the Vidalin family, and when this young lady's grandfather brought his wife from Norway, where he had met with and married her, she soon favoured me with much notice. Madam Vidalin, though not very young, was remarkably handsome, and seemed to be of a reserved, silent, and even melancholy disposition. While conscientiously, and with affectionate kindness, performing her duties to her husband and children, and I may add, to her neighbours, her greatest delight was to be alone, reading books in foreign languages which she had brought with her, or playing upon her harp-that very harp still played on by her granddaughter and singing to it such wild, mournful airs as none of us had ever heard before. I was young at that time, and light-hearted also; still the moment the music of that harp and voice reached me, I would leave any amusement or employment either, and listen to it till the tears ran down my face. This was soon discovered by Madam Vidalin, who translated some of her songs for me, as they were all in a strange tongue; she also procured books for me, assisting and encouraging me in the pursuit of every kind of useful information. Misfortune came at last to a home where this excellent lady and her family had enjoyed years of tranquil happiness. She lost her husband; and immediately after that her son, whom she almost idolised, was taken from her by death. He had married young; his wife died of the same fever which laid him low, and they left their only child, Marfreda, to the care of Madam Vidalin. When the violence of her grief at these trials had so far subsided as that her attention could be directed to other subjects, the old lady became fonder than ever, not only of reciting her national legends and poems, but of listening to mine. She had quite laid aside her reserve, and now spoke freely to me of her early history and of her own country. That country was not Norway, from whence she had come to Iceland, but your own green island, Mr O'More. 'Yes, Marfreda, your grandmother was an Irishwoman. And though that ancient saga is quite correct which relates that in remote ages one of your ancestors had been united to the daughter of an Irish king, you are more closely connected with that land of poetry and song than you were aware. For hours I have listened to Madam Vidalin while she described the scenes of her early home; for she frequently enlarged upon them with all the freedom of garrulous old age. Her father was the exile who composed that little song which I have often seen you listen to, Mr O'More, while Marfreda sang the translation of it into our Icelandic dialect which I made with the help of Madam Vidalin. She taught both words and music to her granddaughter as soon as she was old enough to learn them. They were, therefore, the production not of an ancient Irish chieftain, as you thought, but of a comparatively modern Irish gentleman, whose interference in some unhappy political movement obliged him to quit his own country for ever, accompanied by his wife and children, and to take refuge in Norway, where he settled for the remainder of his days. His sons, it appeared from what

your grandmother, sweet Marfreda, told me, soon forgot ancestral pride and patriotism in struggling with the world. Before long they were quite naturalised in the land which had afforded them shelter from the danger and turmoils that awaited them in their own. But woman's heart is different; and though she married Vidalin-one every way worthy of her -and accompanied him to this country, and loved and respected him too, she never forgot her early home, nor one companion who had shared its enjoyments with her. This was a cousin of her own. A valiant and accomplished youth he was, as she often described him to me, but he differed from her father in his political opinions. He had served in the English army, and nothing could induce him to an act of disloyalty. Young as your grandmother was when she left her native land she had there witnessed such horrors that the very recital of them often caused me to tremble; but I am not going to repeat them. One scene, which, though agonising, was a more gentle kind of suffering, she would frequently describe. It was her last interview with her beloved cousin. He had again taken up arms, and was going to join his regiment in King George's service: he came to her father's house secretly, for his relatives were so incensed at his not joining their party that it was a dangerous risk; but he would not depart without bidding her farewell. He gave her his picture and a little casket containing some family papers of importance, which he charged her to keep carefully for him till they met again. But this was never to be. He was not long gone when some dreadful event took place which obliged her family to leave the country and settle in Norway, as I have already mentioned; and this poor lady of course accompanied them, bringing with her the picture and casket of her lover, whom she never heard of more!'

'O Hudur, good Hudur!' cried the stranger, who had listened to this history, particularly the latter part of it, with the deepest attention-' tell me at once if you know what was the name of the person who gave her these things, and what has become of them?'

'I can answer both your questions, sir,' replied the old man with a look of extreme pleasure. The person who gave her these things was Donough O'More of Glenard Castle, your grandfather; and here, here is the very casket. O that its contents may prove as valuable to you as I wish and hope!'

With agitation of mind that made his strong frame tremble the young man took the casket. His first impulse was to open it, but he checked himself, and said: 'Stay, it is not mine. Have I any right to its contents?'

'I think you have,' replied the thulr; 'and I will tell you why. Madam Vidalin in telling me her sorrowful history, which was always interlarded with old traditions of her country and family, assured me that I was the only person to whom she had ever mentioned these particulars, "for who else," she would say, "could take an interest in bygone occurrences of a far-distant land? Your love for tales of the times of old, Hudur, will lead you to enjoy and remember them." She shewed me the casket, which was placed in the drawer of an old cabinet; and while she regretted never having had an opportunity of returning it to her cousin or his family, desired me, as soon as Marfreda was of age to inherit her possessions, but not sooner, to tell her this story, and charge her to preserve the relics of former years, which it was just possible might yet be of use to the

descendants of O'More. When this time last year I met you, sir, at Grimsted Farm, your name at once struck me; and when one evening you mentioned the business which had occasioned your visit to Norway, I knew you were the person most concerned about the casket. I could not, without transgressing Madam Vidalin's command, mention the circumstance until Marfreda had arrived at a particular age; but I owed you my life, and was resolved on putting you in possession of your papers if they were still to be had-which I feared was uncertain-even if I should have to follow you to Ireland. When the time came for putting Marfreda in possession of her inheritance, and her uncle committed it to my care to bring here, I told him the history of the casket, describing the old cabinet and the very drawer in which his mother had deposited it, and requested he would allow me to fulfil her desire of having it given to her grand-daughter. He found it just where I had mentioned, and after examining the contents, gave it to me, telling me to dispose of it as I pleased. Open it, sir: it is yours.'

The casket was immediately opened. The first object that presented itself to their observation was the portrait of a young gentleman in a military uniform, and which it was unanimously declared bore a striking resemblance to their guest. Next came out some letters, a brief glance at which quite authenticated Hudur's story. Then some old parchments. O'More looked at them. Yes,' he cried; 'yes, my friends, they are the same, the very documents which have occasioned me the loss of my patrimony, and which may again be the means of my recovering it!'

'And you are my cousin, dear O'More?' said Marfreda.

The relationship was joyfully acknowledged; and many were the congratulations which he received on this fortunate event, and many were the thanks offered to Hudur the thulr for his share in the transaction.

As may easily be imagined, O'More at once commenced preparations for returning to his native land, not even waiting to witness the union of Semund Erlandson and Marfreda Vidalin, which could not take place so soon after the lamented death of the Sira Hialte. The regret at the parting of these friends was mutual, and they agreed to correspond, and, if possible, see each other before the lapse of many years.

A number of months went by before the Erlandsons received any intelligence of their absent friend; but in the enjoyment of such domestic happiness as may not often be met with in this world, they continued to remember him, and often to speak of him with much affection. At length letters came, dated from the home of his ancestors, where he and his beloved Ellen were settled, the old papers recovered by the thulr having fully established O'More's right to the family estates. The letters breathed affection and gratitude towards all his Icelandic friends, and were accompanied by a large packing-case, which contained suitable presents for every one of them, not only from O'More but from his lady also. these tokens of grateful friendship old Hudur, as we may easily suppose, was not forgotten. The letter to Semund concluded with these words :'It is astonishing, my dear friend, how the aspect of everything around us changes when we cease to view it through the distorting medium of sorrow and disappointment-perhaps of discontent would be a more appropriate term. The places, the very people I used to look upon with dislike

In

when I deemed myself an alien, a poor neglected outcast from my country, now appear delightful in my eyes. Yet the change is not in them, but altogether in my own mind. Again I love Ireland, and deem it what in the romance of boyhood it seemed—the garden of the world, and its people the kindest and best, unless I except your own. Truly we are the creatures of circumstances. The cloud which misfortune had hung over my destiny was no sooner dispelled by the cheering beams of hope, than I beheld every object illumined with their radiance. Even the poetical feelings of former days returned, though I thought I was done with them for ever; and as the vessel that bore me rapidly over the blue waters from your country drew nearer and nearer to my own, these feelings were expressed in the lines which I subjoin for your dear Marfreda, who, I hope, will sometimes sing them for the writer's sake to the air of our national anthem :

Dear is the white-rolling surge's commotion,

And welcome their hoarse-sounding murmur to me,
As they lash the tall cliffs that frown over the ocean,
The cliffs of green Erin, the pearl of the sea!
Blow on, then, ye breezes, our strained canvas swelling,
Our silver-streaked keel like an arrow impelling
To the fair isle of beauty, the home of sweet Ellen,
The mansion of honour, the pearl of the sea!

Her flower-spangled valleys, her russet-browed mountains,
Her clear, silver streamlets that wind through the lea,
The chant of her groves, and the health of her fountains,
All these might endear other countries to me!
But the heart that can prize modest merit's endeavour,
The free hand of bounty expanded for ever,
And friendship's warm smile, that no distance can sever,
Mark the fair isle of beauty, the pearl of the sea!

Thou bright star of eve while I watch thy descending,
Thy diamond-eyed cresset nigh sinking to rest,
I mourn not thy loss since our course we are bending
To the fair isle of beauty, the pearl of the west!
Blow on, then, ye breezes, our strained canvas swelling,
Our silver-streaked keel like an arrow impelling
To the fair isle of beauty, the home of sweet Ellen,
The mansion of honour, the pearl of the sea!'

WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY?

THE

HE name PHILOSOPHY is associated with some of the most dignified and venerable notions that pass current among men. In the exercise of some of our highest faculties, and in the most arduous encounters with the world and human life-in moments of trial and of triumph-in the enterprises that contribute most to the advancement and elevation of mankind we are frequently brought face to face with this so-called philosophy. There is evidently embodied under it some vast, wideranging, deeply-penetrating, and all-encompassing conception-something peculiarly interesting to humanity, no less in matters of practical business than in what concerns the tastes or distastes of the many and the favourite pursuits of a select few.

Accurately to investigate and define the general terms made use of in the intercourse of life is an important exercise of human thought. Besides being one of the special functions of scientific inquiry, it is called for in all cases, especially where differences of opinion exist on matters of faith or practice. It is agreed upon as indispensable in controversies, that the combatants should each define the leading terms they think it necessary to employ, in order that the diversity of opinion may not be exaggerated. by misapprehensions in the use of language. Moreover, the employment of terms of solemn and weighty import has so great an influence upon the reputations of individuals and the actions of life, that it ought to be conducted with the highest discrimination and judgment; and for this end the precise scope and meaning of all such terms ought to be clearly settled and understood. Such epithets as religious or irreligious, moral, honourable, honest, just, benevolent, civilised, scientific, philosophical, ought not to be scattered at random on men, opinions, and actions. They ought to be so clearly determined by sound definition and consistent usage, and the public mind should be so educated into the understanding of the attributes expressed by them, that no false distribution of merit or demerit should ever take place through their instrumentality.

If we collect the cases of the ordinary application of the words philosophy, philosopher, philosophical, we shall find them to be such as the following

1. The range or compass of what a man knows, or is able to know, is indicated in the Shakspearian sentence: 'There are more things in heaven No. 92.

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