taken from a passage in Mr. Maitland's work on the Dark Ages, which had evidently been recently consulted, for it lay open on the prie-dieu at the place in question."

The oratory is next described :

"The oratory, or chapel, at St. Ronald's, was an octagon corresponding to that which has already been described, and the shape gave Mr. St. John Crozier not a little uneasiness, for it was not a recognized figure in church architecture, a subject in which he was deeply and, perhaps, somewhat extravagantly interested. The room had been fitted up, however, and altered in some particulars, so as to give it as much of an ecclesiastical air as possible. The windows and doors had been narrowed and Gothicised, and the former were of richly-stained glass, displaying lambs, crosses, mitres, cherubs, and many other ecclesiastical emblems, one small scarlet pane in the centre of each, exhibiting the celebrated number XC. in golden characters. It was evident that the painting had been executed by an artist minutely acquainted with the heraldry of the church. St. Mark was there with his winged lion, St. Luke with his winged ox, St. John with his eagle and chalice, and St. Matthew with his cup and hatchet. The draperies were of dark purple velvet, fringed deeply with gold lace, and were executed in the most sombre and gorgeous style of Puseyitical upholstery. intervals were a few pictures by the old masters, a Madonna, a St. Bernard, and the Martyrdom of St. Sebastian. Opposite to the St. Sebastian, was a portrait of Archbishop Laud, by a painter of the Flemish school. The general effect was rich and solemn, while the minute arrangements of the crypt might have made a tractarian duchess covet it for a boudoir. A small but ponderous marble table represented an altar, or was one in reality. It supported an object covered with a little cloud of silvery gauze, which, when Miss Crozier raised it reverentially, revealed the awful Roman Catholic symbol of the Christian faith. Two gigantic and massive. gold candlesticks flanked the crucifix, and bore equally tall wax candles, which were lighted, although at that hour there was no need of artificial illumination. In front of the crucifix was placed a richly sculptured gold box, protected by a velvet case, adorned by Miss Crozier's needle. She opened the box, which was a reliquary, to exhibit its divine contents, and Emily had the extreme gratification of seeing a tooth of St. Munchin, and several dry frag

At

ments of bones, alleged to have long ago formed part of the personal property of St. Ronald himself, the patron and godfather of the villa.

Emily observed that the altar or stone table was strewn with flowers-roses, pinks, passion-flowers, vine-leaves, and some of the loveliest and rarest productions of the conservatory.

"Part of my duty,' said Anastasia. 'I bring fresh ones every day; when the heat has subsided, you will come with me to the garden to renew these.'

"The custom is a very beautiful one,' said Emily.

"It descends to us from beautiful times,' said Anastasia, upon whom the ecclesiastical institutions of the middle ages had exercised that poetical sway which is so near akin to religious influence. These things,' says St. Jerome, are trifling in themselves, but a pious mind is intent upon small things, as well as great.'

"Miss Falcon next remarked, nearly in the centre of the chapel, a large gilt eagle, whose outspread wings supported a volume of great size, bound with extraordinary splendour. She was much surprised when her friend informed her that the covers of the book were hollow, and contained some relics nearly as sacred, and possessing as much miraculous virtues as those in the gold box.

"Miss Spriggs won't be persuaded that we don't worship this eagle,' said Miss Crozier; it makes a very beautiful reading-desk, does it not?'

666

Is it an idea of your brother's?' "Oh, no; it is very antique; the eagle was the crest of one of the Apostles. My brother is wild upon ecclesiastical heraldry. Now let us take a peep into the Scriptorium.'

"This was the latest of St. John's little monastic arrangements, and was a very small closet or study, communicating, by an invisible door and a small dark winding stair, with the oratory. It was solidly and austerely furnished; there was no fireplace, and the chairs, which were oaken, seemed made on the greatest-possible-discomfort - to- the- sitter principle. Emily observed several articles of monastic dress scattered about the cell, a cowl, an alb, or surplice, and a hair shirt, made, Miss Crozier assured her, by the first conventual haberdasher of Oxford.

"Descending from the Scriptorium, they had to cross the oratory again, and a strong beam of sunshine happening just at the instant to strike through the central panes in one of the windows, the mysterious XC. appeared blazoned thrice in burnished gold, set in bright scarlet, upon the polished oaken floor.

Mr. St. John Crozier, (who meanwhile had entered the chapel,) stood with his eyes riveted upon the Roman numeral and golden number. Had he been educated at secular and scientific Cambridge, he would have seen nothing in the phenomenon but a familiar optical effect; but, having been nurtured at spiritual and believing Oxford, he gazed upon the glowing letters with holy rapture, and considered them fully as miraculous an inscription as the writing on the wall of Belshazzar's banquet-room."

The visit of the ladies to the monastery is as fatal as in "Love's Labour Lost." Discussions on celibacy are interrupted by elopements conducted with railroad rapidity, and weddings, that would otherwise never have been thought of, are the unforeseen but very natural consequences of discussions on celibacy. It would seem as if the star of Ward was in the ascendant; and the contagion of matrimony spreads even to Tigernach, of the unchristened hand. That hand our readers in vision have ere now seen clasping Emily's.

Before his marriage, however, Tigernach has to return to Ireland, and there is some difficulty in his explaining to his associates in the Hall of Clamour his changed feelings to England, for Emily has succeeded in winning him to extend to England the kindly feeling with which he before regarded Ireland alone. He, of course, insists that he does so without the abandonment of one particle of Celtic principle; but this little satisfies the audience in the Hall of Clamour, whom he finds engaged in discussing the claims of Ireland to the authorship of the poems of Homer.

The poems of Homer-said one of the orators-are feeble translations from the original Celtic, by some contemptible Hoole of Ephesus, or Trapp of Smyrna. The translation has come down with the name of the Celtic poet, Oungos-OMEARA, or OMARA. The probability of this discovery is increased by the fact, that Ulysses and Duffey are undoubtedly the sameOdusseus and O'Duffy-the digamina explaining the fact of a slight difference in one or two of the letters. The fraud of depriving us of the poems of Homer was perpetrated in the same spirit as one in our own days, when one Campbell, a Lowland Scot, probably of Norman blood, robbed the Celtic Irish and, more particularly, one George Nugent Reynolds,

of the fame of the poem of the Exile of Erin-as is attested by the oaths of several credible witnesses, who, it is proved by other credible persons, were sure to remember one song from another at any distance of time. The question of the Irish claim to Homer was, however, that agitated when Tierna entered the Hall of Clamour. "Where is my father?" was the hero's first question. His father was not present, he being at the time engaged in pursuit of poor Falcon, who had spoken disrespectfully of the Irish in the London journals. The elder M'Morris, with his fiery face and olive-branch, was a dangerous head-pacificator, and Tigernach left the hall in annoyance at the probable flogging his father-in-law was likely to get at his father's hands.

He returned next day to the hall of Clamour. The hall of Clamour is not unlike that in which Milton represents a lofty order of spirits assembled, and poor Tigernach could not but fear when he considered what his intended speech was to be. He was to speak of reconciling feuds, quenching torches, &c. Tigernach knew that, in this hall, as in that described by the great poet, while the multitudinous rabble were gathered together and crowded into small compass, the more lordly still preserved their place of pre-eminence, and natural dimensions.

"As bees,

In springtime when the sun with Taurus rides,
Pour forth their populous youth about the hive
In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers
Fly to and fro; or on the smoothed plank,
The suburb of their straw-built citadel,
New rubbed with balm, expatiate and confer
Their state affans: so thick the aery crowd
Swarmed and were straitened, till, the signal given,
Behold a wonder!-they who but now seemed
In bigness to surpass Earth's giant sons,
Now less than smallest dwarfs in narrow room
Throng numberless-

-To smallest forms
Reduced their shapes immense, and were at large,
Though without number still, amidst the hall
Of that infernal court. But far within,
And in their own dimensions, like themselves,
The great seraphic lords and cherubim
In close recess and eecret conclave sat."

What an hour and what a scene for Tigernach. He that a short time ago had spoken of holding an aggregate meeting of Young Ireland in an omnibus, and who certainly was not thinking little of them when he thought it possible. How get them now to listen to his projects of conciliation, and his praises of the blue eyes and fair hair of the rosy-cheeked daughters of England? And last, worst thought-how

conciliate offended-implacable-iniured-insulted Old Ireland? How dare he even to look up to the throne of royal state on which he sat-or, in Tigernach's hag-ridden imagination, seemed sitting in sullen dignitygloomy as the rain-cloud of morning? Tigernach's first thought was to retire without uttering one word of his conciliatory message. He felt like an angel of the Irvingites commissioned to deliver a message to the chancellor sitting in the House of Lords; but like one to whom the purport of the unintelligible words of the sacred language, of which he was to be the organ, was not communicated. He thought of retiring, as poor Mr. Bagster did from before the dignity of Lord Brougham. However, he spoke, and words, even eloquent words, were not wanting.

"A disapproving murmur ran through the assembly; the bards croaked, and struck harsh notes on their clarshechs, the Brehons muttered discontent, the statesboys frowned, and the officers of the newly-organized corps of Heavy Gallowglasses and Light Wood-kernes, handled their pikes and battleaxes alarmingly, rapping out oaths by all the elements of mischief, and all the principles of evil.

**Tierna, however, persisted in delivering the moderate speech he had prepared for the occasion in the solitude of the Welch mountains. He said that he entirely despaired of carrying their great objects by the hurrah of agitation -(indignant cries of no,' followed by a terrific hurrah,' from Hurly O'Burly, in which the meeting vociferously joined.) Such,however, was his opinion-(hooting) -they could only depend on the ceaseless cultivation of their strength; they must conciliate the Protestants; and, above all, they must improve themselves(no, no, from all parts of the hall.) He deliberately thought so-(groans.) They must establish district readingrooms (laughter)-there the sons of repealers must learn the elements of thought, and make themselves terrible to England by the arms of intellect, and in the panoply of knowledge-(indignant ridicule.) Ere they could take Ireland from the English, they must know more than they do, they must become their superiors in wisdom and virtue.

"The meeting could endure no more. A boisterous laugh of scorn, followed by a universal hiss, and that succeeded by a long, loud burst of execration, thrice expressed the feeling of the auditory. The croak of the bards became like the chorus of the frogs in the

comedy; the young Brehons growled like the cubs of bears; and again the Light Wood-kernes and the Heavy Gallow-glasses vented their Celtic wrath in all the ancient war-whoops.

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Tigernach retired soon after from the hall, followed with the cry of ‘False Celt! Base Renegade!' and a hundred 'miscreants,' and as many 'caitiffs,' from the eloquent tongue of Mr. Fling Mire and the other orators of the school of Xantippe."

The incidents are few in this novel, and we think the story is scarcely sufficient for the perfect exhibition of the dramatis persona. Delineation of character is our author's great and distinguishing merit. The Falcons stand out in perfect individuality. They seem almost characters taken from real life; and, like characters in real life, there is a great deal to be liked in each of them, otherwise their success in predatory life could scarcely be regarded as possible. Mrs. Falcon is lively and well-looking, her manners are natural and pleasing; and she is just the woman whose habits are likely to render, her intolerable to women, but exceedingly agreeable to men, who cannot but be amused at her hundred petty thefts and plans of living, without house or home. Falcon's love of children, and his genius for making paper ships, and dressing dolls, render probable some of the amusing peculiarities which are attributed to the secretary of the Irish Branch Society for The converting the Polish Jews.

Irish hero, Tigernach, is one whom, in all his wildness, we think of with respect, and we regret that the author has done himself injustice, by not extending the sketch of the elder Mac Morris. While we have a salutary horror of the old novel, in three volumes, we are yet sorry that this is confined within the scanty limits of one.

We have said that the author's forte is the delineation of character. In this he uses the double means of narrative and of dialogue. In both, the style is exceedingly lively and unaffected. In the dialogues especially it often sparkles with wit. Is there a chance that in these days, when it requires but a powerful spirit to recall the stage to what it once was, we may find in the author of these sparkling scenes, one destined to give us-what has not been in English literature since the triumphs of Goldsmith and of Sheridan-a true comedy?

Ir is now somewhat about half a century since a meditative man, of a mechanical genius, observing the manner in which the steam of a boiling tea-kettle moved the cover, and the force with which it issued from the spout, was led to entertain the notion that, by creating it in larger volume, this new power might, by skilful direction, be turned to good account as a means of abridging human labour. To this one idea what mighty changes owe their rise! How vastly has the power of machinery been augmented, even to the producing a sense of fearfulness and wonder in the observer, who beholds complex formations of wood and iron instinct, as it were, with a living soul! and how has the intercourse of society been facilitated, the face of the country changed, the facilities of inter-national communication augmented, the whole character of warfare, whether for defence or for aggression, altered, by that one element of steam power, as applied, in its various modifications, by human ingenuity, to purposes whether of national superiority, or of social convenience!

How would our ancestors stare at beholding the teeming productions of our power-looms, and the manner in which our vessels at sea are enabled to baffle wind and tide, and attain to something like the steadiness of continental travelling; whilst our locomotives by land would seem almost to outstrip the fleetness of the wind! But they would not, we may be well assured, rest satisfied with a mere expression of wonder. They would see also the altered relations which were thus produced between the different nations of the world; and that if, in some respects, we were largely benefitted, in others we were more posed to danger. And if the love of old England had not waxed marvellously cold, they would, undoubtedly, desire to see us in possession of means

ex

Nor are there wanting, amongst ourselves, those by whom this important subject has been deeply pondered. We have before us a tract by Lord Ranelagh, which will well repay the attention of the authorities, to whom are entrusted our means of defence. His lordship justly observes that the unexampled successes of the British forces have given rise to such a prestige of victory, "that defeat has almost ceased to be reckoned amongst the chances of war, and invasion is regarded as an impossibility." This is a notion which his lordship deservedly derides. Not that he undervalues" the valour of our troops, the intrepidity and skill of our seamen, the loyal and patriotic devotion of both;" but because "the changes of the last five-and-twenty years are such that, without new combinations of these powers, and important mechanical additions to our defences, the bravery and zeal of our matchless navy and army have become altogether inadequate to the protection of the country."

And whilst Lord Ranelagh would warn his countrymen against the new dangers which they will have to encounter in any future hostilities, the Prince de Joinville thus seeks to impress upon the people of France the vast importance to them of the application of steam power to the purposes of naval warfare :

aggressive warfare of the most audacious nature may be carried on at sea. We are then certain of our movements; at liberty in our actions; the weather, the wind, the tides will no longer interfere with us, and we can calculate clearly and with precision."

And

again: "In the event of war, the most unexpected expeditions are possible. Who can doubt that, with a well-organized steam navy, we should possess the means of inflicting losses and unknown sufferings on an enemy's coast, which has never hitherto felt all the miseries that war can inflict? With her sufferings would arise the evil, till then unknown to her, of confidence destroyed. The riches accumulated on her coasts, and in her harbours, would cease to be in security. . . The struggle, then, would no longer be unequal. Our harbours might shelter a considerable force, which, putting to sea in the obscurity of night, might attempt most numerous and well-organized crusades. Nothing could hinder the force from re-uniting at a given point on the British coast, before daylight, and then it might act with impunity."

Nor are we permitted to suppose that the necessity for accumulating large bodies of men upon some point of the coast previously to embarkation, would interpose any insuperable obstacle to the meditated enterprise. The same agency which has vanquished the opposition of wind and tide at sea, is about to overcome the difficulties of tedious and exhausting marches by land :—

"In three or four years from the prosent time, railways will, in all probability, radiate from Paris, as a centre, to every port on the French coast; an army of 100,000 men, or of any large number, may then be conveyed, in whatever proportions the exigencies or the strategy of the war may require, to the various harbours from which they are to sail, for that point of the English coast on which, according to the Prince de Joinville, they are to unite for the purpose of invasion."

The vastly-increased power of France, for aggressive purposes, in the event of hostilities, when the railways, either contemplated or in progress, shall have been completed, is thus described :—

"In such a state of things-certain in event, and probably not distant in

time, (unless our defences are not only strengthened, but altogether changed,) a declaration of war, on the part of France, would be but another word for the conquest of England. The operation would be as short as it would be easy and decisive. The railways, previously, no doubt, furnished with sufficient power and capacity, could supply the various ports (of which the distance of the remotest from Paris would be reduced to a few hours) with the requisite number of troops. The steam ships-not, be it remembered, necessarily vessels of war, but the ordinary packet-boats-would receive them on board, and the English ambassador, who left Paris on receipt of his passports, would not, on his safe arrival in London, anticipate by one week the equally safe arrival on the English coast of the French army, if necessary, of a hundred thousand men.

"I assume the war to be declared by France, suddenly, and, like all her sudden movements, not without due forethought and precaution. The

transmission of the troops by railway to the various ports is an operation so simple as to require no illustration. The first objection which I shall have to meet will probably be to the facility of their conveyance across the channel, and it may be urged that so large a body of troops in war steamers would not easily escape the vigilance of our navy.

Now, as I have already hinted, it is not necessary, nor probable, that war steamers would be employed in this service. The vessels which would best convey the troops would be passageboats, not dissimilar to those which are at the present time daily running, and frequently carrying from 1,200 to 2,200 passengers each between England and Ireland. These vessels might move, not in one squadron, but in various numbers, as they would steer from various points: each flotilla being accompanied by war steamers for the purpose of protection, or distracting the attention of an adverse force.

"Now, I know well that our navy is composed of officers and men of the most approved skill and of indomitable valour. In any sea service, whether of blockade or of battle, the English navy would at this day justify and maintain her ancient and well-earned renown. I will even suppose that the largest possible increase has been made to that branch of the public service on which the glory of our country has been raised, and the foundations of our security have hitherto rested.