erected about the thirteenth century. It passed from the Cardinans, its first recorded proprietors, through the Arundells, into the possession of the Earls of Cornwall; and in the beginning of the fourteenth century Richard king of the Romans held his courts within its walls. Shortly after this, it seems to have been much neglected, and suffered to remain in a dilapidated condition till the reign of Charles 1st. when it was somewhat repaired during the great civil war, being, from its commanding site, a post of considerable importance. The parliamentary forces who were quartered here, were defeated, and the castle taken for Charles by Sir Richard Grenville. No attempt has since been made to preserve this mouldering pile, on which the elements and the tooth of time are committing such ravages, that ere another century has passed away, nothing will remain of its greatness but a traditionary tale! of civil liberty, under whose happy influence, the accidents of birth, and fortune yield to the claims of individual merit. DELTA. THE DIAL OF FLOWERS. (From the "Amulet," for 1828.) Twas a lovely thought to mark the hours That laugh to the summer's day. Thus had each moment its own rich hue Ia And its graceful cup or bell, To such sweet sighs might the time have flow'd In a golden current on, The glorious guests were gone. There remain two circular walls, the So might the days have been brightly told- ` "The wave of woods and cornfields and the Scattered at intervals" Far off in a breezeless main, Yet is not life, in its real flight, Mark'd thus-even thus-on earth, The foot of the hill is washed by the By the closing of one hope's delight, river Fowey. I have said that the Antiquarian and the man of taste will be gratified in visiting this place.-The moralist will find it the very home of meditation. This relic of the olden time stands alone, the last of his race, in days, and among people far different from those who gave it existence To the contemplative mind it realizes the page of history, and brings back in palpable forms--the iron-hearted baron, and the oppressive system of vassalage. While mournful presages of our own decay, are inspired by this crumbling monument of by-gone power-we cannot turn to the "smiling prospect near" without cheerfully acknowledging the improved condition of society. The gloomy splendour of the feudal lord has passed away for ever-in its place has arisen the spirit And another's gentle birth? Oh! let us live, so that flower by flower, A A charm for the shaded eve. THE PHYSICIAN. When from the skill of some Physician grave, Proclains a radiant angel from the skies. Soon as his healing art allays our grief, But when the time arrives of health and ease, And the good doctor humbly asks his fees, S. H. THE SELECTOR. THE OLD DRUMMER. A Fragment. together. For more than a week, at one time, I had no job;-saturday night came, and I had no money;-a couple of Pilchars sarved us all on the Sunday. On monday morning we had nothing to eat. The children were sent off to school with a promise they should have a good dinner when they came home. I went out and tried to get work that morning but could not, and being too proud to ask the parish for help, I returned to my wife as I left her. At twelve o'clock, home came the children, hungry enough. Dinner, said one-give me dinner, mother, said another;-there was nothing for them, sir;-my wife looked at me and burst into tears-that was too muchshe hid herself from the children.-I knew not what to do; and in a state almost of desperation I took my drum, braced it up, and by a smart rally, tried to cheer up my spirits. The sound of the drum brought the little ones about I beat the 'White Cockade'me. the 'Downfall of Paris'-the 'Austrian's Retreat'-and God save the King';-and kept beating and beating until it was time for the children again to go to school 'Tis past two o'clock, said I,-off to school, and if you are good children I will play to you again when you return. Off they ran, poor things, as pleased as could be, but with thin bellies, as empty as my drum. About this time a gentleman riding by the door, lost his spur; seeing it drop from his heel, I ran out and took it up for him, and finding the leather was broken, I offered to mend it, which he consented to. He was pleased with the job, said I was an honest-looking fellow, and gave me a shilling for my trouble. My wife and I cried with joy. She bought some food; we waited for the children's return, when we all made a good meal. My heart became light-I beat the drum all the evening-the children were merry-Betty was happy-and-so was I. The next morning I had a little work, and after this, times mended. "You know, sir, I was always fond of the drum, and there was a time when I would not be afraid to beat the drum before the king,-God bless him-why, sir, the first thing I larn't my wife after we were married was to beat the drum; and after that I larn't her to mend shoes. We have had five children, sir,--a large family for a poor man to beat through life with; and to amuse them and ourselves, my wife and I larn't them all-boys and girls, to beat the dium;-poor little things!-they could hold the drum-stick before they could hold a pap-spoon. Oh, sir, what pleasure it used to give me, to hear them!-My wife always said our eldest boy, George, if he lived to be a man, would be a great drummer,-and so he is, for now he beats the great drum in a Cavalry Band. When we were larning them our neighbours used to say we made a great noise-beat, beat, thump, thump, all the day long:-it was music to us, and more than once it was meat and drink to our children;-once in particular,I shall never forget the time if I live to be a hundred-and I am now upwards of eighty;-my wife and I were talking about it last week, as we sat together mending a "What were the pair of shoes." circumstances that made such impressions on your minds, George?" said I. After I Why, sir, I will tell ye. was married, I larn't my wife, as I before said, to beat the drum, and mend shoes. I worked as a journeyman shoe-maker by day, and in the evenings, my wife helped me to mend shoes at home: so between making and mending, and being a drummer in the volunteers, I maintained for several At one time it years, my family. happened I was out of work for weeks. The little I got by drumming and cobbling brought us very little bread and many a time, sir, have the old woman and I gone without meat-that our children might have it--these were hard times,-and to drive away Sorrow, I have beat the drum for hours Falmouth, Oct. 1827. F. THE ARRIVAL OF A TRANSPORT. NUMBERS of boats soon surrounded treating his sick gin, (wife) to a cup of tea, but in reality, with a view of treating himself to a porringer of "Cooper's best," to which his majesty is most royally devoted. You land at the government wharf on the right, where carts and porters are generally on the look-out for jobs; and on passing about fifty yards along the avenue, you enter George-street, which stretches on both hands, and up which, towards the left, you now turn, to reach the heart of the town. Although all you see are English faces, and you hear no other language but English spoken, yet you soon become aware that you are in a country very different from England, by the number of parrots and other birds of strange notes and plumage which you observe hanging at so many doors, and cagesful of which you will soon see exposed for sale as you proceed. The government gangs of convicts also marching backwards and forwards from their work in single military file, and the solitary ones straggling here and there, with their white woollen Paramatta frocks and trousers, or grey or yellow jackets with duck overalls, (the different styles of dress denoting the oldness or newness of their arrival,) all bedaubed over with broad arrows, P. B.'s, C. B.'s, and various numerals in black, white, and red, with perhaps the jail-gang straddling sulkily by in their leg chains,-tell a tale too plain to be misunderstood. At the corners of streets, and before many of the doors, fruit-stalls are to be seen, teeming, in their proper seasons, with oranges, lemons, limes, figs, grapes, peaches, nectarines, apricots, plums, apples, pears, &c. at very moderate prices.-Two Years in New South Wales. EPIGRAM. THE RETORT MEDICAL. Qnoth Doctor Squill of Ponder's End, Whate'er their aches or ails, New Monthly Magazine. A TALE OF THE WEST (Continued from Page 171). peated interviews could only increase his affection, and he thought that, could he obtain her as a companion WITH a spirit reviving from the for life, he should be exquisitely hapwounds it had received, he looked py. It was in vain that reason whisaround, as if to select the path he pered to him the wide and impassable should now pursue. He proceeded to difference of religion. To wed a Dublin, and spent with pleasure some Catholic, every hope, symbol, and time in that, in many respects superb ceremony of whose faith was at utter city. At that day travellers were more variance with his own-he started at rare than at present, and seldom an- the prospect. How could harmony noyed each other by their numbers, in and union of thought and feeling dwell exploring various parts of the empire. between them? and from how many It was the season when the Irish sources might regret and discord arise, House of Commons was assembled, to mar all the felicity of life? And his and Trelile took advantage of it to friends-those who had known him attend their debates; and the eloquence he heard, so far surpassing all he had conceived an idea of, made a profound impression on his mind. But other thoughts and prospects soon drew his whole attention. The appearance of affluence, in the mean time, that attended him, and his prepossessing manners, soon, in that city of hospitality, procured him introductions into attractive and agreeable society. From the gaiety and dissipation that almost invariably prevailed there, he at first was disposed to recede, but insensibly he entered into them with greater ardour and attachment than their more experienced votaries: for, after is long-exile, and life of comparative solitude, excitement and indulgence had for him all the charm and power of novelty. While he thus sailed with the stream and yielded to the fervid impressions of the hour, he became intimately ac-. quainted with a very interesting Irish family; it consisted only of a mother and daughter, both of the Catholic religion. The former had for some years been a widow, and been left in slender circumstances; and all the latter had to depend on for a dowry was her beauty; but that beauty was of an order that men passionately love-not the calm, blue, mental eye, the clear and reflective forehead, and the slender yet elegant form; but a full, joyous, and resistless loveliness- a large dark eye, that told of an ardent yet tender heart, where all her country's boundless vivacity resided. Trelile saw this woman, and loved her; re but lately the stern and decided advocate of another faith,-would they not reproach, ridicule, and condemn him? Still he saw and conversed daily with the beautiful Catholic, who was pleased with and encouraged his attentions, as also did the mother, who saw the advantage of a union with a man of his independent fortune. He knew that he should have fled the fascination and not have parleyed thus with its power, which was fast laying prostrate his heart and his reason. A love such as this was indeed new to his feelings : his first wife he had married more for the possession of her wealth, than from personal affection. It was true, a softer feeling grew on him afterwards, and, mingled with an ardent gratitude had made him deeply lament her loss. But this passion for Laura was a new element, in which his soul existed and triumphed, where sights and sounds of loveliness were perpetually around it, and all former attachments now appeared cold and unsatisfactory. The event proved it, and in a few weeks more the young Catholic was his bride. Even on his marriage day his mind misgave him, and confused presentiments of future misfortune pressed heavily on his spirits; but, in the constant society of his beautiful wife, these fears and anxious feelings were quickly forgotten, and he was plunged into an intoxication of happiness. The joys of affluence, even when grasped by previous poverty-the charm of exploring fair, and till then unseen lands-the sweetness of flattery and admiration, all were dreams and shadows in his esteem, to the soul delighting and undying passion for which alone he now lived. The mother of his bride resided with them, and for some time a succession of company and gaieties filled up most of the hours. Among his wife's accomplishments was that of music; and their evenings, apart from society, were passed in listening with rapture to the melody of her voice, as she sung to the harp some of the plaintive strains of her own land. For the music of a bride's voice, however tuned, can never fail to fascinate ere the first few cloudless months are fled. To gratify her, Trelile studied every art. The most splendid ornaments and dresses that money could procure were laid out for her taste and acceptance; and these were gifts she passionately loved. He invited with little discrimination, and spared no expense in the enter tainments he gave; for he saw that his wife was admired by all, and in every company he heard the praises of her beauty. He deemed this the golden period of his life, and foresaw no cloud on the prospect,-no storm that would blast its tranquility. This union possessed, unfortunately, too many discordant materials. Laura had never sincerely loved him; she admired his person and talents; yet his fortune drew her to the altar, and her heart had no share in the deed. As yet he perceived it not, saw only perfection in his fair partner, and, if any occasional sallies of ill-humour or discontent were indulged in, he passed them over as the effects of caprice or thoughtlessness, He sighed, however at times, when he saw her steps directed to a place of worship he could not enter, condemning, as he did, her faith as idolatrous; the gold cross also suspended at her neck, and the exquisite picture of the Virgin in her chamber, to which she nightly addressed her supplications before retiring to rest. Yet these, with the keen ridicule she son etimes cast in company on his faith, as a heresy from the true one, and the few but precious relics treasured in a small casket of the richest workmanship, and on which at times she gazed with more ardour and delight than her looks ever evinced when turned on himself-all these were insufficient to break on the dream of passion, that he was happy, ineffably happy, in the possession of one of the fairest and most attached of her sex. It was not probable that a woman of such ardent and susceptible feelings, and exposed to daily homage and flattery, could long guard her heart against tender impressions. The devoted and almost slavish attentions of her husband pleased and gratified at first, and by degrees became habitual, and at last almost indifferent; and often, at the moment that he sat gazing on her countenance with rapture, her fancy wandered to the attractions of one of her admirers. Among the company that frequented the house was an officer of the garrison, a countryman of her own, who, in spite of his youth, had visited several distant parts of the world, and seen severe service. He conversed with Trelile on the climates and rich scenery of the Indies, and on the various luxuries common there; and to the wife he talked in a strain of lively narrative, varied with many compliments on her beauty, and on the happiness the possession of a hand such as her's must confer. Both were pleased with his society, the wife unfortunately too much so; and when Trelile, as was sometimes the case, passed the evenings in other company, Laura and their military guest found in each other's society that the hours fled too rapidly away. She made some attempts to resist the growing passion, but in vain ; her heart had never found its rest in her own home; and after many and repeated persuasions, urged with all the eloquence of passion, she quitted at last the roof of her husband, and fled with her lover. Trelile returned that night from a gay and numerous party, ignorant of the desolation that awaited him at home. Finding the apartments below empty and silent, he rushed into her chamber, and found that also deserted. Still he could not believe it possible she had gone, except for a visit or excursion without the town, and would |