Rise up, rise up, Mick Dempsey, then,

This bottle bear for me."*

"Oh Captain Smith is not alive;
The Captain Smith I mean:
Full many a day is past and gone,
Since Captain Smith was slain."

Why Captain Smith was never slain :

Mick Dempsey sure you rave:"
"Well then the Colonel was, Miss Lane,
The man that was so brave.

"The Mr. Smith of whom I speak,

The one that haunts us here,
Went out to take a Rebel Chief,

66

That every one did fear:

They found him hidden in a barn;

And he swore he'd fire a shot;

And the first man that laid hands on him,
Should die upon the spot :

"On went the Colonel, rest his soul !

The Rebel shot him dead ;†

And indeed, Miss Lane, I'd rather meet

The horse without a head."

* A bottle of medicine, for a poor person in the neighbourhood, who was

sick.

+ See note at the end of the Ash-Park Apparition.

TUBBERFINN.*

(IN IMITATION OF WORDSWORTH.)

There is a well, I've viewed it oft,
The ground about is green and soft,
And sunk within a grassy dell,

Is placed this little crystal well.

The water is so very bright,

That you can see the freestone white,

That at the bottom lies:

I've stood and viewed this little well,
Longer than I should like to tell,

To watch the bubbles rise.

For it will bubble all the day,
And all the night, I dare to say:

This well is ever bubbling;

Although you ne'er see children near,

Marking with rings its surface clear,

Or limpid waters troubling.

Thick, short, and green, the grass, you'd think,

Was velvet to the water's brink:

But velvet is not spotted;

And with the Lotus golden hue,

With Daisies white, and Speedwell blue,

This little dell is dotted.

*Written by the Author of "A True Story."

(IN IMITATION OF WORDSWORTH.)

There is a well, I've viewed it oft,

The ground about is green and soft, And sunk within a grassy dell,

Is placed this little crystal well.

The water is so very bright,

That you can see the freestone white,

That at the bottom lies:

I've stood and viewed this little well,
Longer than I should like to tell,

To watch the bubbles rise.

For it will bubble all the day,

And all the night, I dare to say:

This well is ever bubbling;

Although you ne'er see children near,

Marking with rings its surface clear,

Or limpid waters troubling.

Thick, short, and green, the grass, you'd Was velvet to the water's brink:

But velvet is not spotted;

And with the Lotus golden hue,

With Daisies white, and Speedwell blue,
This little dell is dotted.

* Written by the Author of " A True Story."