Yet he can go to bed at night without a lock to a door, or a bar to a window. Women and girls may be found in abundance who can thin and hoe turnips in the best manner. As good ploughmen and agriculturists in the various departments may now be had in Ballyvourney as in most places. All faction-fights are at an end; and although, little more than twenty years ago, these were the weekly Sabbath occupation, they are now like an item of an old almanac. By employing similar means, might not other parts of this naturally fine country be equally improved, and made the abode of a thriving and contented people? THE DAUGHTER OF THE BARDI. A TRUE OLD TALE. The Via dei Bardi is one of the most ancient streets of Florence. Long, dark, and narrow, it reaches from the extremity of the Ponte Rubaconte to the right of the Ponte Vecchio. Its old houses look decayed and squalid now; but in former days they were magnificent and orderly, full of all the state of those times, being the residences of many of the Florentine nobility. How many struggles of faction, how many scenes of civil war, have these old houses witnessed! for in the period of their splendour, Florence was torn by intestine feuds; from generation to generation, Guelfs and Ghibelines, Bianchi and Neri, handed down their bitter quarrels, private and personal animosity mingling with public or party spirit, and ending in many a dark and violent deed. These combatants are all sleeping now: the patriot, the banished citizen, the timid, the cruel--all, all are gone, and have left us only tales to read, or lessons to learn, if we can but use them. But we are not skilled to teach a lesson; we would rather tell a legend of those times, recalled to mind, especially at present, because it has been chosen as the subject of a fine picture recently finished by a Florentine artist, Benedetto Servolino. In the Via dei Bardi stood, probably still stands, the house inhabited by the chief of the great and noble family from whom it takes its name--we write of the period of the fiercest struggles between the Guelfs and Ghibelines; and the Bardi were powerful partisans of the latter party. In that house dwelt a young girl of uncommon beauty, and yet more uncommon character. An old writer thus describes her: 'To look on her was enchantment; her eyes called you to love her; her smile was like heaven; if you heard her speak, you were conquered. Her whole person was a miracle of beauty, and her deportment had a certain maidenly pride, springing from a pure heart and conscious integrity.'