Farewell, blest land! I leave the while Serene and social spot; Ne'er winding Scheldt, nor devious Dyle, By mem'ry be forgot! Dear peaceful scenes for many a year, While shaded from the foe, Which oft aroused the filial fear, Hence far from thee I go! If not ungrateful 'twould appear, I'd ne'er review thy shore; Yet still through each revolving year I'd think on thee the more! Farewell, fair Belgium! fertile land, On thee may freedom ever smile; While commerce courts thy happy strand! I seek mine own, lov'd, native isle! The Duchess of Tyrconnel wrote, according to promise, to Mrs. Cartwright, duly recording to her the happy turn that fortune had taken in their favour. A copy of this epistle now lies before us; but as we are no admirers of unnecessary repetition, we must take the liberty of wholly suppressing the letter of her Grace. Before we close this short, but eventful chapter, we have to observe that the Soignies banditti, who had been arrested, were tried, identified, and executed. Not once nor twice was Sir Patricius Placebo overheard soliloquizing to himself thus: "I am," quoth the knight, "in sooth no longer a philosopher, who is desirous _inter silvas foresti (non academi) quærere verum_--no, no--_horribile dictu!_ After this confounded _rencontre_ in cursed Soignies wood, I shall for ever forego and forswear the eating of Ortolan or Perigord pies, while I live--ahem! except--that is to say, unless I can eat them with safety in the city! for there is no general rule or law without an exception; and indeed the long-robed gentry say as much--_exceptio probat regulam_--ahem! "DOSS MOI, TANE STIGMEN!" It was at the close of the last week in August, which had now arrived, when the duke and family took their departure from Brussels, on their route for Ireland; and while they are on their way we shall conduct our readers in their transit to the succeeding chapter. CHAPTER II. ---- In the turmoils of our lives, Men are like politic states, or troubled seas, Toss'd up and down, with several storms and tempests, Change and variety of wrecks and fortunes; Till labouring to the havens of our homes, We struggle for the calm that crowns our ends. FORDE'S "_Lover's Melancholy_." About two months had now passed over, which had been occupied in travelling to their long-wished for home, since the departure of the duke and his family from Brussels, the journey having commenced towards the close of August, and now had arrived the last week in October, which witnessed the due accomplishment and end of their travels, by their welcome return to their ancient and magnificent castle.