And though remorse--thou may'st not feel When its last throb is o'er, Thou'lt say--"that heart which lov'd so well, Shall passion feel no more." E'en love for thee forsakes my soul-- Thy work, relentless see, Near as I am life's destin'd gaol, I'm frozen--less than thee. Yet take this heart--I ne'er had more To give thee in thy need: Search well--for at its inmost core, Thy pardon thou may'st read. T.R.P. * * * * * ANECDOTE GALLERY. * * * * * TRAITS OF IRISH CHARACTER. (_For the Mirror._) A gentleman residing in the vicinity of Dublin, found, notwithstanding the protection of a thick, and thorny hedge, that great depredations were committed on his garden and paddocks; so he inclosed them with a high, strong wall. As he kept cows, and had more milk than was sufficient for his family, he distributed the overplus amongst his poor neighbours. One day, inspecting in person, this distribution, he saw a woman attending with her pails, who, he was tolerably certain did not require such assistance. "You, here! my good friend," said he, "I thought you kept a cow?" "Ay, plase yer honour's honour, and _two_ it was that I _once_ kept, the craters!" "_Once_, why don't you keep them now?" "Ough! 'tis yeaself must answer that question, for why? the bastes did well enough afore your rav'rence run up that bit o' wall round your fields, seein' the cows lived off your grass; but sorra for me now, I've sold 'em both, by rason I couldn't _keep_ 'em no longer." An English gentleman, on a tour in Ireland, was beset at a fine waterfall by numerous beggars; one woman was particularly clamorous for relief, but Mr. R. instructed by his guide, said to her, "My good friend, you cannot possibly want relief, as you keep several cows, and have a very profitable farm; indeed I cannot bestow my charity upon you." The woman, looking sulky, and _detected_, immediately pointed to another, exclaiming, "Then give to _her_, for she's got _nothing_!" The stranger in Dublin is particularly requested to send all beggars to an institution in Copper Alley, for their relief. Being once much importuned by an old man for money, we desired him to go to this place. "I can't," said he. "Why not?" "Becase 'tis a bad place for the poor." "How so? don't they give you anything to eat?" "Ah, yes, yes, but the thing is, my jewel, they wont by no manes give a poor body _anything to drink_." The intelligent reader will not be at a loss to translate the complaint of thirsty Pat. * * * * * FRENCH CRUELTY.