admired in the land of Paoli, while she was free from the objections that might be urged against his favourite island. A people prepared to receive republicanisin should not be wealthy, frivolous, or ignorant: they should be temperate, virtuous, and brave; they should love justice, religion, and their country; and should have recently experienced the sufferings of oppression. Such are the people of Ireland. But these circumstances would only prepare the nation to receive a good government-there are others requisite to enable them to procure it; and these are disposition, numbers, and geographical position. Ireland has these: the people are anxious for a revolution, are able to effect it, and have all the aid that an isolated country, intersected with a thousand natural barriers, and strengthened by numerous defiles, can give a native and patriotic soldier over a foreign mercenary. If ever a nation were ripe for a revolution, Ireland is. She has no wealth to neutralize her energy, her domestic enemies are insignificant, and there exists not a monarch either in power or in exile who can lay claim to her allegiance. Her oppressors are invaders, to whom she bears an hereditary hatred; and the people are unanimous in favour of a republic. Religion too lends its powerful aid; and long-continued insult stimulates the people to take revenge upon their tyrants. There is a retributive justice in the world-slavery is not immortal; and, when freedom is deserved, it is found. Switzerland emancipated herself from Austriathe Netherlands from Spain; and Ireland will separate from England, as sure as the ripe fruit drops from the autumnal bough. The slightest commotion will effect it, for the fulness of time is at hand.' 66 You are right,' he replied; 'all men should submit to lawful authority, but no authority can be lawful but that of which the people approve. Shaking off a power," says Locke, "which force, and not right, hath set over any one, though it bear the name of rebellion, yet is no offence before God, but is even allowed and countenanced by HIM; though even promises and covenants, which were obtained by force, have intervened." That we might not misunderstand what he means by speaking of force, the same illustrious philosopher previously observes-" Who doubts but that the Grecian Christians, descendants of the ancient possessors of the country, may justly cast off the Turkish yoke, which they have so long groaned under, whenever they have an opportunity to do so? No government can have a right to obedience from a people who have not freely consented to it; which they never can be supposed to do, till they are put in a full state of liberty to choose their government and governors." " "at least, 'Or,' said the Exile, till they have such standing laws, to which they have, by themselves or their representatives, given their free consent.' I believe that is the conclusion of the passage.' 'Admitted,' replied Emmet; but recollect what Locke says elsewhere of free consent, which can never be supposed to exist until subjects are free to give consent. The people," says he, "owe no obligations whilst force, and not choice, compels them to submission." If he had written on the state of Ireland, his words could not have been more applicable. The truth is,' continued Emmet, Christianity does not abrogate a single law of Nature; and, though popes have sometimes attempted to dictate the civil duties of mankind, they usurped an authority not delegated by their Master; for we have a high authority* for saying, that Christianity has, in respect of civil rights, left us where she found us." *We affirm that, as to the extent of our civil rights and obligations, Christianity has left us where she found us; that she hath neither altered nor ascertained it; that the New Testament contains not one passage which, fairly interpreted, affords either argument or objection, applicable to any conclusions upon the subject, that are deduced from the law and religion of Nature.'-PALEY. The whole argument,' returned the Exile, resolves itself into a question of expediency; for, if Ireland, in resisting the English government, subjected herself to less inconvenience than by submitting, she ought immediately to revolt. But in balancing the advantages and disadvantages, for and against such a measure, lies the difficulty of ascertaining the expedient. We are to consider the state of affairs before and after revolution; and, estimating the necessary horrors of such an event, see whether it would not be more for the happiness of Ireland to continue hand in hand with the sister kingdom, than to wade through the blood of millions to a republican government, which, after all, might not be so advantageous to the country as a participation in the British constitution. All this may be possible,' replied Emmet, but not at all probable; for, where the choice of public officers would devolve upon the people, the public functionaries would have the confidence of the majority of the nation; and of course nothing more, in a free state, is desirable. Besides, where no situation would be perma nent, the excluded of this year might hope to be elected on the next; and, therefore, though there might, and would be party, there could be no faction of so sanguinary a character as you suppose.' Well, then,' returned the Exile, even admitting the possibility of an established republic, it follows, of course, that your new government would not have the resources of an old one; and that, in the infancy of the state, you would be subject to the inconvenience of all feeble nationsthat of being made the theatre of hostilities between the neighbouring and belligerent powers; and, of course, you would be reluctantly compelled to enter into an expensive and destructive war.' Our insular situation,' replied Emmet, secures us from such an evil; and England, once separated from Ireland, could only hope to continue powerful by courting our alliance. "If all possible objections," says Johnson, are first to be obviated, no man would attempt any thing great or useful.” Ireland is at present so abject and so miserable, that any change must be for the better.' 6 66 Pardon me, my friend,' returned the Exile, if I say you appear to be under a strong delusion, which leaves you almost inaccessible to argument. Ireland wants not a change of circumstances, but a change of opinions, to be one of the happiest countries on the globe; for her political situation might well raise envy. While connected with Great Britain, war can never approach her; and an agricultural country wants only permanent tranquillity to be independent and happy. On this ground alone I would implore Ireland to hold fast the connexion; for, if she once separate, war will approach her fields as sure as her shores are washed by the waves of the Atlantic; and no form of government can compensate a country for making it the seat of hostilities. 'But,' he continued, do not misunderstand me. I will admit that a time may come when separation will not only be advisable, but necessary; when the government, through obstinacy, shall refuse concession to the predominance of public opinion, whether right or not; when a fa voured faction shall insult the people with impunity: and when the nation is brought, by the operation of the press or religion, to the decided opinion of a revolt being necessary, then I will subscribe to your doctrine, draw the sword, and cast away the scabbard. But this time, thank God! is not come the people are not sufficiently enthusiastic in favour of revolutions; their clergy preach against rebellion, and the aristocracy deprecate it. Unanimity is, therefore, wanted; and whoever thinks otherwise has only to make the experiment, to be convinced of his error.' The concluding observations of the SUPERSTITIONS OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY.-NO. IV. THE RATH. Achenree, who knew little of law, physic, or divinity, discoursed very eloquently about what they did know, hurling, dancing, and courting; not forgetting ghosts, demons, and fairies. Dull realities can seldom satisfy people whose range of information is limited. The imagination loves to expatiate in realms of its own; and the vulgar fancy, perhaps, derives the greater pleasure from these mental excursions, as it knows nothing of system, consistency, or design. Every vision is received without examination; and, while it derives pleasure from its own creation, it never takes the trouble to arrange or analyze. This, in my opinion, accounts for the superior attractions which tales, founded on popular superstitions, possess over the most laborious allegories of German metaphysicians. THE rustic inhabitants of Achenree, a town* situated in the southern district of Kildare, were assembled, on Sunday evening, not long since, to drink shibbeen in the whitewashed cabin of Jack Dooling, an honest man, who was always remarkably poor, notwithstanding his success in cheating the gauger. In Jack's brewery there was little attention paid to the division of labour, Scotch lecturers having never established the principles of co-operative industry at Achenree; and, indeed, it was quite unnecessary that they should, for things went on very well without them. Jack took his sack of barley; immersed it in the marlehole beyond the ken of the exciseman; and, when sufficiently saturated, he drew it forth, spread it on the barn-floor to vegetate; afterwards dried it by the fire, and thus converted the produce of his own farm into good malt, from which shibbeen was brewed in a metal pot, that sparkled, as Jack used to say, like stars on a frosty night, though served up in wooden noggins. On the evening in question it was undoubtedly superexcellent; for the perfect good humour of the guests proclaimed the exhilarating quality of the liquor. As the soldier talks of war, and other professions of what they best understand, so the good folk of in On this night the conversation was soon directed into a superstitious channel; and every one had his story, illustrative of fairy lore, when Luke Driscol, Mr. Power's ploughman, raised his noggin from off the table, twisted round the shibbeen in it, and, after taking a drink, gave a grin of incredulity. So, Luke,' said the blacksmith, you pretend not to believe in sheeoges?' 6 Troth, I just do, Jim.' Then you think there's no luck an ould horse-shoe?' *This word has retained its primitive signification in Ireland, being always applied to land, and seldom to houses. Thus a certain portion of a parish is called a town, though there may not be an individual living in it-a thing, by-the-by, not easily met with in the prolific Land of Bogs. The dunghill frequently serves the same purpose when a bog-hole is not convenient. No, not quite that, neather, Jim, agrah! but, as for fairies, who ever saw one?' This challenge was indignantly met by the whole company. Some had uncles, others grannies, who had seen hundreds of shecoges; but, unfortunately, none of the persons present had ever that honour. Pshaw!' said Luke, that's like the man that saw the man, that knew the man, that had seen the man, that said he saw the man that had seen Ould Nick.' The comparison was highly offensive; and the blacksmith, as he afterwards said, had a good mind to give the ploughman a polthoge; when Rose Barnes, an old woman who sat in the corner, took her skutty pipe out of her mouth, struck it on the nail of her left thumb to rid it of the ashes, and, having ejected from her mouth a globulous liquid to extinguish the burning weed, reversed the earthern tube in her hand; and, then leaning forward, fixed on the offender a look in which expostulation was blended with anger. 'Arrah, Luke Driscol! ent times come to a pretty pass, when the likes o' you would be after shaming us for believing what's as plain as God's truth? May be you never heard what happened to Paddy M'Dermid, at the Rath of Come,' interrupted the blacksmith, starting up from a reverie, I'll bet three gallons of shibbeen that Luke Driscol don't go by himself, all alone, to the little Rath in his own master's big field, and bring us this night a black sally switch that grows in the middle of it.' "Tis done!' cried Luke. 'Done!' echoed the smith; and, as they closed the bet by seizing each other's hand, the smack of their iron palms might have been heard at half a mile distant. The timid endeavoured to persuade Luke from his purpose; but, as he had often crossed the Rath at night, he felt no apprehension of danger; or, if he did, the dread of ridicule prevented his acknowledging it. Give us a shough of your pipe, Rose,' said he to the old woman, before I go.' Troth, will, a gollh, Luke, astore,' replied the hag; and, if you would be after taking an ould woman's advice that might be your granny, don't be fool-hardy, but stay where you are, and drink your drap in comfort. Well, since the gawky must have his way, here's the pipe, and take a whiff as you go along for company. Luke took the pipe, kindled it with a coal of turf, and then placed it in the side of his mouth, with his fingers turned, sheath-like, over it, to prevent the blaze from injuring his eye, a precaution rendered necessary by the shortness of the tube. In a moment after he was on his way to the Rath of Achenree for the black sally switch. To relieve the suspense occasioned by Luke's absence, Rose Barnes was prevailed on, by all the young girls present, to tell them something concerning Paddy M'Dermid and the Rath, a story which she was about relating when interrupted by the blacksmith. When I was a young thackeen,' proceeded the old woman, some three score years ago, Paddy M'Dermid was one of the most rollaking boys in the whole county of Kildare. Fair or pattern could'nt be held barring he was in the middle of it; and, though he beat the ould boy himself for drinken and swearen, faith there was worse men than Paddy; for he took good care of his poor ould mother-heaven rest her soul in glorypraise be to God for all things! Well, as I was sayen, Paddy was in every place, like bad luck; and faith, where there is no turf, its hard for the praties to bile. Paddy's little farm was seldom sowed in season; and, where he expected barley, there grew nothing but weeds. Money became scarce in poor Paddy's pocket; and the cow went after the pig, until all he had was near gone. Lucky, however, for him, if he had gomsh enough to mind it, he had a most beautiful dream one night as he lay tossicated in the Rath of Monogue, because he was'nt able to come home.' Ah! what did he dream, Rose, avourneen?' asked an impatient girl, who had listened to the story with the utmost interest. Listen, and I'll tell you. He dreamt that, under the place where he lay, a pot of money was buried Tare and ounze!' interrupted the smith, and he got the money.' 'Not so fast, Jim Donohoe,' said Rose; he might have got it, but there was a crumsmaul over poor Paddy; for, as the saying is, it is better be born lucky than rich.' Paddy kept the dream to himself until the next night, when, taking a spade and pickaxe, with a bottle of holy water, he went to the Rath, and, having made a circle round the place, commenced diggen sure enough; for the bare life and sowl of him thinking that he was made up for ever and ever. He had sunk about twice the depth of his knees, when whack the pickaxe struck against a flag, and at the same time Paddy heard something breathe quite near him. He looked up, and just forenent him there sat on his haunches a comely looking greyhound. God save you,' said Paddy, every hair on his head standing up as straight as a sally twig. Save you kindly," answered the greyhound-leaving out God, the beast, bekase he was the devil. Christ defend us from ever seeing the like's o' him. Musha, Paddy M'Dermid,' said he, 'what would you be looking after in that grave of a hole your diggen there?' Faith, nothing at all at all,' answered Paddy; bekase you see he did'nt like to tell a stranger. 6 Arrah! be easy now, Paddy McDermid,' said the greyhound; 'don't I know very well what you are looken for?' Why, then, in troth, if you do, I may as well tell you at wonst, particularly as you seem a civil-looking gintleman, that's not above speaking to a poor gorsoon like myself.'(Paddywanted to butter him up a bit.) Well, then,' said the greyhound, come out here, and sit down on this bank;' and Paddy, like a gomulagh, did as he was desired; but had hardly put his brogue outside of the circle, inade by the holy water, when the beast of a hound set upon him, and drove him out of the Rath; for Paddy was frightened, as well he might, at the fire that flamed from his mouth. "Oh, the fool!' exclaimed all present; and the blacksmith asked if he left his tools behind him. To be sure he did,' replied Rose; 'for would you have him to face the old boy himself, and he in possession of all his holy water, too? No, no, Paddy was'nt such a fool as all that; but next night he returned full sure that the money was there. As before he made a circle, and touched the flag; when my gintleman, the greyhound, appeared in his ould place. 6 'Oh, ho!' said Paddy, you are there, are you? but it will be a long day, I promise you, before you trick me again;' and he made another stroke at the flag. 'Well, Paddy M'Dermid, said the hound, since you will have money you must ;-but say, how much will satisfy you?' 'Paddy scratched his coulaan; and, after a little while, said— 'How much will your honour give me?' for he thought it better to be civil. Just as much as you consider reasonable, Paddy M'Dermid.’ 6 Egad,' says Paddy to himself, there's nothen like axen enough,' so Fifty thousand pounds!' said he. (He might as well have axed a hundred thousand, for I be bail the beast had money gulloure.) 'You shall have it,' said the hound; and then, after trotting away a little bit, he came back with a crock full of guineas between his paws. Come here and reckon them,' said he ; but Paddy was up to him, and refused to stir, so the crock was shoved along side the blessed and holy circle; and Paddy pulled it in, right glad to have it in his clutches, and never crack-cried until he reached his own home, where his guineas turned into little bones, and his ould mother laughed at him. Paddy now swore vengeance against the deceitful beast of a greyhound; and went next night to the Rath again, where, as before, he met Mr. Hound. 'So you are here again, Paddy!' says he. 6 Yes, you big blaggard,' said Paddy; and I'll never leave this place until I pull out the pot of inoney that's buried here.' Oh, you won't!' said he. Well, Paddy M'Dermid, since I see you are |