with people. Struggling manfully with the fierce waves, they at last reached the shore in safety, where they were received with cheers by the assembled villagers, and were hospitably invited to share such humble shelter as they could afford to accommodate them with, till such time as they could arrange to set out for their own destination. The occupants of O'Regan's cabin observed a young man, accompanied by a lad, bearing a valise, stop at the Widow Daly's door. The widow came out, and he, taking the valise from the hands of the lad, dismissed him with some gift, which was gratefully acknowledged. Then he and the widow approached O'Regan's door. "May God be praised!" said Mrs. Daly, entering, "Mary, asthore. This gentleman, whom God in his mercy has just saved from shipwreck, brings you news of Johnny. He is alive and well." The young man stepped in, laying the valise that he carried, on a chair. "Mother!, Nora!" he cried, and was clasped, dripping wet as he was, to Mrs. O'Regan's heart. "Johnny! Johnny! darlin'!" she sobbed aloud. "Almighty God be thanked for bringing you back safe to my arms!" Kissing him wildly again and again. It was indeed, John O'Regan drenched to the skin, just escaped from the wreck of the ship "Margaret," bound to Queenstown from New York. His long absence was thus accounted for: the "Black Eagle," Captain Berry, in which he first went to sea, was wrecked on its way back from New York. Succeeding in getting back to that city, he took shipping from thence to India. returning, he found that war had broken out between the north and south, and enlisted in the Federal navy. he distinguished himself in that service, and was promoted to a lieutenancy. In an engagement wit a Confederate war-steamer, his vessel was captured, and he was detained a prisoner for about twelve months, when an exchange of prisoners was effected. He had three times written to his parents and also enclosing some money (which we need scarcely remind our readers, they were in utter ignorance of); but receiving no reply, concluded that they must have left Guileen, and so came to in propriâ personâ to ascertain how matters stood at home. His brother and little sisters received him with every demonstration of delight, and his father, in cordially embracing him, brushed a tear of joy from his eye. Nora blushed deeply, as he wound his arm around her waist and whispered, "At last, darling, I can redeem my promise. This is my Christmas gift." And he placed in her hand a lady's gold watch, with a portrait of himself in naval uniform set inside the case. Turning to her mother, he said, "I am going to take Nora from you, and please God in three weeks she will be my wife."
"An' my blessin' be on you," replied the widow, "for a more deservin' boy couldn't have her."
The situation of his father was explained to him. He comforted them by explaining that it was his intention to marry Nora as soon as practicable, and then take them all to America, where they should be well provided for, as he was rich enough to keep them all; and there they would be safe from further anxiety.
That Christmas was the happiest the two families ever remembered spending. United, their joy was unallayed, and they enhanced their own enjoyment by administering to that of the poorer neighbors. Next day, Michael O'Regan returned to his place of concealment, where he remained till everything was prepared for their departure. In three weeks, the faithful and loving Nora was united to John O'Regan; and accompanied by their families, they started on a honeymoon to America, where they are at present living happily together.
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Cinderella.
More graceful than the bounding fawn,
More loving that the dove,
More fresh and bright that morning's dawn,
Art those my treasured love.
No wealth is thine, nor courtly grace,
To dazzle with their glare
But heaven is breathing from thy face,
And on thy golden hair.
Again a chase! my darling one!
The love I bear for thee
More fervid is thou summer sun,
And deeper than the sea:
And deeper in my soul it glows
With every passing breath,
The life pulse of my heart it flows,
To cease alone in death.
What destiny is thine asthore!
Disdain — Contumely:
The fair sweet girl of fairy lore,
Less helpless seems than thee;
’Tis crime to leave thee — darkest Crime
Grieved those who hate thee so;
Thy sisters' every grows with time
As hers did long ago.
I would have dried thy tearful eyes
And shielded them from curse;
And soon the honor's brightest prize
Thy beauty to adore:
For this I braved the hour of hate,
The law's harsh decree,
Mavrone! thine is a bitter fate
A felon's doom for me.
I still unceasing pray for thee
To thee Almighty Throne,—
Pray that I may once again see
My darling one — my own,—
To see her once before I die;
Oh sweet would be my rest —
Could I but breathe my latest sigh
Upon my darling's breast!
