takes her revenge by suggesting that her father, Farmer Wilkinson, is not her real father. How the plot succeeds, Cherubina relates as follows in a letter to her dear adviser:-] A thousand thanks, my dear governess, for your inestimable letter; and though I must ever regret our separation as the greatest misfortune of my life, yet I cannot but consider it auspicious in this respect, that it has irritated you to inform me of your suspicions respecting my birth. And so you really think I am not the daughter of my reputed father, but a child of mystery? Enchanting! And so the hypocrite calls me Cherry Bounce, and all sorts of nicknames behind my back, and often wishes me out of his house? The traitor! Yes, I will comply with his desire, and with your excellent advice, by quitting the iniquitous mansion for ever. Your letter on the subject reached me just before breakfast. Heavens! how my noble blood throbbed in my veins! What a new prospect of things opened on my soul! I might be an heiress. I might be a title. I might be-. I would not wait to think; I would not wait to bind my hair. I flew down stairs, rushed into the parlour, and in a moment was at the feet of my persecutor. My hands folded on my bosom, and my agitated eyes raised to his face. "Heyday, Cherry," said he, laughing, "this is a new flourish. There, child, now fancy yourself stabbed, and come to breakfast." "Hear me," cried I. "Why," said he, "you keep your countenance as stiff and steady as the face on your wrapper." "A countenance," cried I, "is worth keeping, when the features are a proof of the descent, and vindicate the noble birth from the baseness of the adoption." "Then, sir," said I, "to be plain and explicit, learn that I have discovered a mystery in my birth, and that you-you, Wilkinson, are not my real father!" I pronounced these words with a measured emphasis, and one of my ineffable looks. Wilkinson coloured like scarlet, and stared steadily in my face. "Would you scandalize the mother that bore you?" cried he fiercely. "No, Wilkinson," answered I, "but you would by calling yourself the father of her daughter." "And if I am not," said he, "what must you be?" Expiate thine offences, restore an outcast to her birthright, make atonement, or tremble at retribution, or tremble at retribution!" I thought the farmer would sink into the ground. "Nay," continued I, lowering my voice, "think not I thirst for vengeance. I myself will intercede to stay the sword of justice. Poor wretch, I want not thy blood." The culprit was now at the climax of his agony; he writhed through every limb and feature, and by this time had torn the newspaper to tatters. "What!" cried I, 66 can nothing move thee to confess thy crimes? Then listen. Ere Aurora with rosy fingers shall unbar the "Come, come," said he, "your cup is full all eastern gate-" this time." "My child, my child, my dear darling "And so is my heart," cried I, pressing it daughter!" exclaimed this accomplished crocoexpressively. dile, bursting into tears, and snatching me to "What the mischief can be the meaning of his bosom, "what have they done to you? this mummery?" said he. “Hear me, Wilkinson," I cried, rising with dignified tranquillity. "Candour is at once the most amiable and the most difficult of virtues; and there is more magnanimity in confessing an error than in never committing one." What phantom, what horrid disorder is distracting my treasure?" "Unhand me, guileful adulator," cried I, "and try thy powers of tragedy elsewhere, for I know thee!" I spoke, and extricated myself from his embrace. 66 Dreadful, dreadful!" muttered he. "Her "Confound your written sentences," cried sweet senses are lost. My love, my life, do he, "can't you come to the point?" not speak thus to your poor old father." "Father!" exclaimed I, accomplishing with much accuracy that hysterical laugh which (gratefully let me own) I owe to your instruction. "Father! Oh, no, sir, no, thank you. 'Tis true you have blue eyes like myself, but have you my pouting lip and dimples? You have the flaxen hair, but can you execute the rosy smile? Besides, is it possible that I, who was born a heroine, and who must, therefore, have sprung from an idle and illustrious family, should be the daughter of a fat funny farmer? Oh, no, sir, no, thank you." The fat funny farmer covered his face with his hands, and rushed out of the room, nor left a doubt of his guilt behind. You see I relate the several conversations in a dramatic manner, and word for word as well as I can recollect them, since heroines do the same. Indeed, I cannot too much admire the fortitude of these charming creatures, who, even while they are in momentary expectation of losing their honours, sit down with the utmost unconcern and indite the sprightliest letters in the world. They have even presence of mind enough to copy the vulgar dialect, uncouth phraseology, and bad grammar of villains, who, perhaps, are in the next room to them, and who would not matter annihilating them with a poignard while they are mending a pen. Adieu! HENRY GRATTAN. BORN 1746- DIED 1820. was to gain admission to the gallery of the House of Commons and listen to the orations of Burke and others, or to stand at the bar of the Lords' and drink in the eloquence of Chatham. During this period Grattan was deeply moved by the death of a favourite sister, and scarcely had time begun to heal this wound when he received news of his mother's death. This occurred so suddenly that she had not time to dispose of her pro branch of the family, thus, one may almost say, robbing her son a second time of his just rights. [Henry Grattan, the patriotic statesman | In the intervals of study his chief enjoyment and eloquent member of the Irish parliament, was born in Dublin on the 3d of July, 1746. The family of which he came was a highly influential one, his father being recorder and one of the members for the city of Dublin. The boy received the first elements of his education at a school in Great Ship Street kept by a Mr. Ball, and he was afterwards removed to another in Abbey Street kept by a Mr. Young. When about seventeen he was attacked by a severe illness, on re-perty, which went in consequence to a distant covering from which he entered Dublin University. His career here as a student was a brilliant one, and he formed friendships with several fellow-students who afterwards became eminent in their different careers. About this time the young man's leaning towards the popular side in politics began to show itself, and his father, who was a man of irritable temperament and narrow in his political views, became estranged from his son. A little later, and before any reconcilement could be effected, the recorder unexpectedly died, and when his will was read Grattan found that his liberal opinions had cost him dearly. The family place was taken from him, and everything was devised to others, except a small patrimony which was beyond his father's power to divert. Being only about twenty, and of a highly susceptible mind, he fell into a gloomy state for a time; but he soon roused himself and went to London, where he entered the Middle Temple. | the various contributors. In 1771 Grattan completed his term at the Middle Temple, paid a visit to Paris, and wrote his celebrated character of Chatham, which may be seen in Baratariana.1 Next year he was called to the Irish bar, and began to practise; but the bar was not the proper field for the exercise of his great powers. He felt this, and an unsettled dissatisfied state of mind was the result. While in this mood the borough of Charlemont luckily became vacant, and he was returned for it in 1775. On the 15th December of that year he made his first speech, in which he seemed to show his full strength and genius all at once. When the new parliament met under the lord 1 A remarkable book made up of political pasquinades contributed by the celebrities of the day. The second edition of the work, published in 1773, contains a key to |