Grattan, as well as his patron Charlemont, was a bigot in his heart; and, for ten long years after he pocketed the nation's money, he continued the uncompromising champion of Protestant ascendency. Whoever doubts this has only to examine his anti-Catholic conduct, in 1791, and read his published answer to his constituents in 1792. Grattan became an advocate for Catholic emancipation when it was the only means left him of regaining his forfeited popularity; but, as a proof of his insincerity, it may be rémarked that he never understood the religious principles of those whose cause he advocated. I am, Mr. Editor, a Protestant and an Englishman, and, of course, an advocate for the right of the subject; but really, when I see the Irish Catholics so excessively and unreasonably grateful-when I see them so thankful for false patriotism-I am inclined to think they neither understand nor appreciate liberty. Let Irishmen look to it; there are still many Grattans among them A. B. Carlisle, April, 1825. TALES, BY THE FASHION, that ever-mutable goddess of dress, literature, and, we might add, politics, has lately given to Ireland an importance hitherto denied that kingdom. Her literature, her grievances, and even the superstition of her peasantry, have attracted much attention, and a large portion of English publications is devoted to these subjects. We have already commented on some of these, and, whatever their authors may think, have been more anxious to praise than censure, unless where glaring errors, or gross misconceptions called for reproof. The Tales before us, we understand, are from the pen of Mr. Banim, and are not altogether unworthy the author of Damon and Pythias.' A rich vein of feeling and poetical fancy runs through all his descriptions, and bespeak the writer a man of no common genius. His characters are varied and well sustained, though some of them are depicted in colours rather improbable; but still they approach near enough to truth to reconcile us to the overwrought picture. The first Tale, Crohoore of the Bill-hook,' though embellished with passages of great literary merit, does not please us as well as the second, which is an illustration of the popular notion of Fetches,' the nature of which our author very accurately explains. In Ireland,' says he, a Fetch is the supernatural fac-simile of some individual, which comes to * Tales, by the O'Hara Family. O'HARA FAMILY.* ensure to its original-a happy longevity or immediate dissolution: if seen in the morning, the one event is predicted; if in the evening, the other.' The scene of this Tale of the Fetches is laid in the town of Kilkenny, of which, we believe, Mr. Banim is a native; and the principal actors in it are a Dr. Butler, Mr. Ruth, and his two amiable daughters, Maria and Anna. The first is betrothed to a young officer, named Mortimer; and the other to Henry Tresham, a student of Kilkenny College, who delighted in metaphysics, and the doctrines of the Rosicrucians. His lovely mistress soon imbibed his strange notions, and, while their friends were alarmed for their folly, both were thrown into the greatest confusion by having seen, at the same time, in different places, and at night too, the Fetches of each other. At first their distress was somewhat mitigated by the supposition that it had been a mutual imposition, and Tresham had instructed his servant Larry, a singular character, to ascertain if his mistress had left her father's house the preceding night: but Larry, who never told the whole truth, did not communicate all he had heard to the student, who allowed himself to believe it might be probable that what he had seen was Anna herself. 'In the midst of these reveries Tresham was, contrary to his own calculations, again surprised into a slumber. It was, however, but a light and fitful one, of that London, Simpkin and Marshall, 1825. kind which, while it crowds one half of our mind with rapid and vague chimeras, leaves the other half, if the terms may be so disposed, confusedly alive to a waking sense of place and surrounding objects. And in this state Tresham's eye (whether his waking or sleeping eye he could not himself determine) fixed on a pale figure that seemed to stand in the space of the open door of the chamber. Starting up, and now in the darkness of the night, which, only relieved by one struggling ray of the rising moon, that obliquely shot across the apartment,-thickly surrounded him-better awake, though not entirely so, Tresham rivetted his eyes on the doorway. The single moon-beam struck through it, and, just as he turned his glance, lightened, he thought, over a flow of white drapery. He shrunk back; recovered himself, and looked again; but all was repose and blankness. 'He issued through the door, and quickly descended to the exterior of the college. At an angle of the building, that turned towards the park, Tresham again caught the indication of a receding figure; and still he pursued. In the open space of the park nothing appeared, however; and, after some research, he was about to regain his chambers, when, as if it had arisen from the earth, or come down from the heavens, or formed itself out of the column of air that the previous instant filled its place, Tresham beheld, straight before him, the figure of his mistress. The decayed trunk of an oak partly flung off the moon-shine from her white drapery, and for one instant her altered eye communed : with his the next, and while he moved a step to greet her, she turned from him into the dark shrubbery, and became again in visible. There could now be no further question as to the resemblance-but was it Anna, in reality? Tresham once more, and rapidly, brought to mind her parting jest; and, wildly hoping to be blest with the truth, rushed into the shrubbery, determined also to hasten, if she still evaded him, to her father's house. "The shrubbery had two paths: his mistress did not appear in either; and Tresham hesitated to choose that by which he should seek her. At length he took one at random, which terminated in a small circular space, over which the trees matted, and almost excluded the moon-light. In the centre, on a platform of fresh grass, was a monumental urn, erected to the memory of an esteemed professor of the collge: and at the base of the urn he discovered a sitting, drooping figure, that seemed as if it had been designed and executed with the marble; but Tresham knew it was an intrusion there. 'Still he approached, and at about ten yards recognised Anna. Again she looked on him; but it was a look of vacancy; a blind, stony gaze, as if she had, indeed, been the inanimate thing he at first supposd her to be. He "Now, certainty or the worst!" cried Tresham: "my beloved! my life's blessing! Anna! speak, if it is you, and if you would not destroy me! speak! sickness and agony are together at my heart-feebleness is in my limbs-fear and horror are in the marrow of my bones!" stood within almost touch; tears scalded his cheeks; his knees smote each other, and his hair stirred. "Speak!" he continued, "I implore you, in the name of the great God! save your wretched Harry!" He advanced another step, with intent to catch her in his arms, but his strength failed him, his eyes swam, a cold perspiration burst through his frame, and he fell, helpless and senseless, at the base of the urn.' While the unfortunate student was thus bewildered, Mr. Ruth's family had met in the drawing-room, and were momentarily in expectation of Tresham's arrival. A musical professor, of local celebrity, was amusing the company, when Anna requested him to play a small piece, of a supernatural cast, the words of which had been translated by her lover from the German. ་ The air was yet unfinished, when a low and shuddering scream escaped from Anna. She had been sitting with her eyes upon the far door that opened into the inner drawing-room; while she looked, it opened, and Tresham appeared standing beyond the threshold, dimly shown by the moon's rays that quivered around him. The music suddenly stopt, and all turned to Anna; and, when they saw the direction of her eyes, to the door; but, though she still gazed on it, the door was now shut, and no one could solve or surmise the cause of her exclamation. Maria approached her to ask a question, but, ere she had moved two steps, was arrested and fixed in her place by a piercing cry, that sounded from the upper part of the spacious old mansion; and in an instant after, Mrs. Catherine broke into the apartment, wild with terror, and crying out, body and neck bent forward, and her eyes unwinkingly fastened on the remote door. "Oh, my misthesses an' my masther!— he's comin'!-he's comin' down!" "Who? Mr. Tresham? Why should his coming frighten you in this manner?" "Och, not him, not him! for Larry left him sick at home in the college!" "Who then? who then?" pealed every voice. "He-that is not he!-Masther Harry that is--not Masther Harry, but the other!" "Ridiculous old woman; peace, and be gone, this moment!" said Mortimer. Ould-why, then, my bould captain that's not in the laste foul-mouthed, we only wish you met him where I did! I tell your mighty great worship he cum in without lave from the dours or the doctor! I was just for turnin' up stairs to shut the windees, when he walked plump agin me in the dark, stalin' out, I think from Miss Anny's- -""Ah!"—she interrupted herself with another scream, and sunk on her knees, as once more the distant door got motion; and to the eyes of Anna and Mortimer alone the form re-appeared in the inner apartment; their situations, perhaps, allowing them a better view than any others in the drawing-room. 'The action of Anna at this moment was in itself frightful. Continuing her set gaze while the housekeeper spoke, she evinced, by a hissing of breath, and a creeping of the whole frame, her sense of the first motion of the door; as it slowly and silently unfolded, she as slowly and silently arose; nor when, to her apprehension, the figure became fully visible, did she start or speak, but with eyes, head, and neck, still set and protruded, her face tintless as the purest marble, and a moving of the mass of her beautiful black hair, stood, firmly grasping the back of the chair, in the spot where she had arisen. 'Almost at the same instant Larry en tered at the near door, and holding out Tresham's note "Here's a bit of a billy-do from my. Larry began; but looking aside- -"tunther-an-ouns! the ould boy an' his dam!--murther! murther!"-he vociferated; and, dropping the note, was rushing from the room, when Mrs. Catherine, still kneeling with her face hid in her hands, caught at his legs; this unseen and unexpected interruption made him delirious; and kicking and plunging, and with continued outcries, he dragged the dead weight of the housekeeper through the door; both thus escaping the scene of terror. 'Mortimer had scarcely become conscious of the appearance, when advancing he said— "Mr. Tresham, I insist on knowing what you mean by this worse than silly conduct?" "To whom does he talk?"-cried Maria, who from surprise, if not from fear, had shrunk with her back to the side wall, still without perceiving any thing-" Is Mortimer, too, infatuated and lost?' Stay where you are!"-said Anna, whom in his advance Mortimer had to pass, motioning at him with her hand behind her back, and speaking in that hoarse and emphatic whisper that, amid the raging of a sea-fight, is most used for command or exhortation, and, we are told, can be heard through the roar of a hundred cannons-" Stay where you are,-and I have yet a moment's breath and self-possession-the note, Mortimer!-Tresham's note! quick! quick!" Mortimer stooped and presented it: Anna tore open the seal, ran her eye over the contents, and, having staggered some paces to where he stood, fell with a heartbroken groan in her father's arms. Her mother and Maria hastily gathered around her; the performer left the house. "Rash and ridiculous boy!" Mortimer continued, addressing the figure that now receded backward in the inner room"what is your reason for this childish mummery? explain, sir, without another word! stand and explain! or draw, sir, draw!" 'He rapidly advanced with his naked sword: the door began to close : he dashed against it, and it shut. He drew back, hurled himself forward, and, bursting it open, gained the middle of the inside floor,-in an instant it shut again, and Mortimer was-alone-in the dark chamber. "By heaven, I will find your ghostship!" -he exclaimed, rushing through a small door-way, that led, by back-stairs, into the garden, when he had ascertained that Tresham was not with him in the apart ment. 'On the first landing-place, Mortimer again encountered the figure, still very indistinctly seen :—and, "You shall, sir,-you shall answer me, and to all I ask of you, too!"-he continued, confronting, at some distance, the object of his pursuit. The moon, that had been clouded for a moment, broke through a small window over the pale features of Tresham, and Mortimer thought he perceived a frown on the otherwise passionless visage, while with solemn and freezing motion an arm pointed towards garden. the Mortimer, conceiving he understood the hint, replied-" aye-let us decide it there!-pass on, sir, to the garden!-you offer me a satisfaction without words?"a nod seemed to assent- agreed, thenon!-you have no sword?-no matter my pistols are at hand-I will meet you in a moment!-pass on !" 'He ran up stairs, back again by the dining-room, to his own chamber, scarcely heeding the situation of Anna, who continued insensible, or the afflicted cries of the father and mother, for their child, or the now wild questions and exclamations directed to him by his mistress, who, in his rapid transit through the apartment, could not disengage herself from her sister. Snatching a light he met on his way, Mortimer gained his chamber, and unlocked or pulled open several trunks and drawers before he could find his pistols; then the time spent in charging them was agony to his impatient mind; but at last all was ready, and now avoiding the drawing-room he ran, by another way, into the garden. The garden was extensive, spreading from the back of the house to the edge of the Nore, which at this point was, although narrow, deep and glassy," and scarcely seemed to stray." The moment he entered it Mortimer looked around, but no one was visible. He hastened down the main walk, and still found himself alone. He crossed and re-crossed by the smaller paths, disturbing the night-dew on the flowers and shrubs that clustered along his way, but still to no purpose. Again he stood on the principal walk, and, giving vent to the vexation and disappointment of his spirit, called out 'Coward!' you are not here! -if you are, answer!-Tresham!-coward! are you here?' ever, "Here!" answered a distant and imperfect sound, rather than voice, which might have been the drowsy river-echo, halfawakened among the sedges and hollows of the opposite bank. Mortimer ran, how in the direction from which it reached his ear. On the edge of the garden that overhung the water he thought he observed a man's form. He hastened his speed-it was gone. A movement of something on on the opposite side challenged his eye. He looked across, through a slight fog, over an expanse of about thirty yards of water, and beheld, sufficiently distinguishable for general recognition, in the strong moon-light, the persons of Tresham and Anna, standing hand in hand. Mortimer's blood froze back to its source, and he suddenly retraced his steps to the house.' The lovers now fell ill, and a deception was practised on them by their friends. Anna was told Tre- 'Tresham-as, under the impetus of a galvanic battery, a dead man might-started to his feet, and his eyes glazed and set on his mistress. The last change appeared. His jaws dropped-his throat rattled-he was falling-Anna sprang to support him.— "It will happen !"-she said—" and now!-ha!-Tresham, look there, if you can!-there is the last calling." 'Tresham could not; nor did he hear her summons but as Anna herself looked to; wards the waterfall, she saw, or thought she saw, through its thin sheet, as through a supernatual veil, two figures, the counter parts of her lover and herself, standing, hand in hand, together. The shade of Tresham seemed to point to the depth under the ledge where Anna and he stood. "I understand it," she muttered. 'But now Tresham's struggle rivetted her attention. He gave two long sighs, with a long interval between each, shivered quickly all through his frame, and fell. Anna, clasping him close, fell with him— he was dead!' She caught the dead body by the arm, and dragged it to the water's edge, in the sight of her friends, who arrived too late to save her! She stepped on the void, and was dashed to pieces with her lover in her arms! Mr. Banim, in these Tales, has shown himself thoroughly acquainted with the dialect spoken by the poorer classes, but, in his endeavour to give it accurately, he has made it sometimes obscure. There was no occasion to write spake for speak; mooch for much; flure for floor; raison for reason, &c.; nor does his spelling always convey any notion of the pronunciation. Thus, for potatoes he writes phatoes, which are always pronounced pheates, pheaties, or prates. THE DUBLIN AND LONDON MAGAZINE. JUNE, 1825. MY GRANDMOTHER'S GUESTS AND THEIR TALES.* 6 Ir is long since we have passed an evening so pleasantly as in the perusal of these two volumes. My Grandmother's Guests' is, indeed, a work of extraordinary merit, and (if the author be, as we suppose him to be, a young man) of still more extraordinary promise. The style is pure, unadulterated, English--no slight merit in these fantastic times, when the Cockney, the Scot, the Hibernian, and so many others, have their schools and their disciples, who threaten utter destruction to the tongue that Shakspeare spake.' The tales are nine in number-some grave-some gay-some painting the scenes of every-day life-some founded on tradition or history-some depicting the manners and characters of our own country-some those of China, Italy, and Flanders-but all interesting and amusing in an extraordinary degree. The first tale is entitled Sir Roger de Calverley's Ghost.' The scene is laid in the north of England during the civil wars; and the skill and fidelity with which Mr. Slingsby has portrayed the covenanters, cavaliers, preachers, soldiers, zealots, and hypocrites of that turbulent period, make us regret that he has chosen to confine himself within such narrow limits. Sir William Davenant, the eccentric godson of Shakspeare, is introduced into this tale with great effect:-as true and striking a portrait of his illustrious sponsor would be invaluable. Surely the hand which produced one would not find much difficulty in portraying the other. ceited' work. We dare not venture to disturb the gravity of our readers by presenting them with any extracts; and, indeed, our own sides have ached so painfully, that we do not know whether we would willingly run the risk of turning over the pages again, for the purpose of selecting them. But by far the most finished and interesting tale in the work is "The Magic Mirror.' The hero, Leopold Von Desterreich, is a student at Gottingen, and an accomplished proficient in all the licentiousness and de. baucheries for which universities in general, and German universities, pa eminence, are distinguished. The author tells us, however, that, notwithstanding all these follies, he was a young man of excellent talents, and of a kind and generous heart. His imprudences were the mistaken excesses of a haughty but noble temper, from which experience and a more extended knowledge of mankind could not fail to produce far more worthy results.' The tale opens with a description of the close of a debauch at Gottingen, on the eve of All-hallows Day, when Leopold, and Schwartzwald, a captain in a regiment of Jägers then quartered in the town, have outsat all their companions, and are continuing their potations in a state of comparative sobriety. 66 Captain," said Leopold, "you and I are the only honest men in Gottingen. You see the whole pack of those noisy curs, who but now were barking so loudly, have drawn off; and, spite of good wine and good comHours of Peril' is another narra- pany-for the wine is excellent, and such tive of intense interest. It is an aneccompany as yours and mine is almost as dote of the French revolution, found-good-the drowsy sots have sneaked into their beds. May the devil rouse them ed, we believe, upon fact; but Mr. Slingsby's invention has added incidents and characters which render it altogether one of the most agreeable tales in the series. The Feast of Lanterns' is 'a ryghte merrie con*My Grandmother's Guests and their Tales. By Henry Slingsby. 2 vols. Robins and Co. London; and J. Robins, jun. and Co. Dublin. VOL. I.--No. 4. for it!" 66 Amen," said the captain, as he set down his empty glass; "but I wish little Reichard had staid. When he gets sufficiently drunk he grows devout, and tells stories about saints and miracles, that are U |