‘The adventure is not one of my own, but it was related to me by my friend H——, whom you have heard me mention, and whose veracity I cannot question.’ FOOTNOTES: [19] Here I had introduced some fairy traditions, which she recited with all the arch and witty accompaniments of voice and manner, which render even a common story interesting; but having accidentally met with a very entertaining book lately published, entitled, ‘Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland,’ where I find similar stories, related in a style so much superior to mine, that it would have been presumption in me to follow the same track; I have thought it proper to cancel that part of my MS. and must now refer the reader to the above work for the gratification of his curiosity. CHAPTER XIII. AN AFFECTING SCENE. ‘On the night of the storming of Roderigo,’ said he, ‘I was one, among others, who pressed forward on the French, up to the market-place, after they had abandoned the defence of the walls. They had ceased to make resistance, and the town was completely in our possession, when I was induced, along with three more of the regiment, to turn down one of the streets for the purpose of searching the houses for articles of value. Having entered two or three which were already filled by our soldiers, we ran farther on from the noise and riot, and stopped at a house which seemed to be superior to those around it. The first place we entered was the kitchen, where a few embers were glowing on the hearth, and emitting a faint light on the surrounding walls. An awful silence reigned through the house, which was only interrupted by the distant huzzas and riot of our troops. On throwing some wood on the fire, we were enabled by its light to find a lamp, with which we proceeded to search the other apartments of the house. Every thing was in order—no sign of confusion more than if the family had gone to bed in perfect security. This and the stillness that reigned around, altered the complexion of our minds, and tinged them with a feeling of solemnity which we could not account for. Had there been noise or disorder, or the appearance of any one having been there on the same errand as ourselves, we would have begun plundering without a thought; as it was, we had gone through several apartments filled with articles of value, without touching anything. On reaching the upper flat of the house, we were startled by hearing some one sobbing; and proceeding towards the apartment from whence it issued, we discovered the door ajar, and a light in the room. We hesitated a moment, doubting whether it might not be some of the French soldiers who had fled from the ramparts; and preparing ourselves for defence, should such be the case, we pushed up the door, and entered together. But the scene which presented itself arrested our steps at the entrance. Stretched on a couch lay a young female apparently dying. Her mother—for such