Page:Monthly scrap book, for June.pdf/12

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12
THE MONTHLY

was kissing my brow which had blown over the the green hills of my own native Erin, and wafted the wishes and sighs of those who were near and dearest to my heart. I was thinking of the wicker gate of my old nurse’s cot, over which I had so often leant, at an hour like that, in sweet discourse with the maiden I loved. The old elm tree, Father Daly’s white, blossoming rose-bush, and every object in my native village started up in rapid succession before me, when suddenly I heard something at my back, which sounded like a naked foot, warily placed upon the ground. I started up in a moment. There was a lion within ten paces of me!

I had now occasion for all my courage and presence of mind. My first idea was to level my pistols at the beast; but Hendrick’s caution instantly crossed my recollection, and observing the effect my accidentally bold and steady position appeared to have on the brute, I resolved to follow the old man’s advice. The lion’s eyes were fiercely bent upon mine, and I returned him frown for frown, standing firm and inflexible as he gradually approached me. I did not move a muscle of my limbs, but railed at him in a loud tone, and he in return roared so as to shake the earth beneath me, as he successively lifted up his paws and held them for a moment, curved under him, before he put them, to the ground again. At length, I unconsciously closed my eyes, but recollecting myself in a moment, re-opened them just in time for my salvation. The lion had ceased to roar, his tail was curved, his mane seemed to be a wave of living