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such a brave ventursome fellow, I'll ed the ploughman from the ground. be after making you up if you walk His face had all the paleness of death; down stairs with me, out of the and several ininutes elapsed before he could ;' and sure enough it was snow- recovered, so as to speak to those ing like inurdher.
about him. Luke, honey, where's Oh! may I never see Athy if I my pipe?' again asked the old wodo,' returned Paddy; ' for you only man, and was answered only by an want to be after loading me with unmeaning stare. “Oh! ay,' said ould bones, or, perhaps, breaking my she, 'I expected as much: it is gone, own, which would be just as bad.' and may I never take another shough
''Pon, honor,' said the hound, 'I if I'd wish it for all the pipes in Leinam your friend ; and so don't stand in ster, and your own light. Come with me, and Whist, woman, whist!' interyour fortune is made. Remain where rupted Luke, 'for I have seen— you are, and you'll die a beggarman.' Seen what?' inquired the smith. So, begad, with one' palaver and an- • The witch of Tracy's Town, and other, Paddy consented ; and, in the all the fairies in christendom.' middle of the Rath, opened up a Peg Martin ?' said Jem: where beautiful staircase, down which they was she?' walked ; and, after winding and turn- Sitting in the middle of the Rath,' ing, and winding and turning, they replied Luke; "and ten thousand of came to a house much finer than the the neatest and purtiest men and woDuke of Leinster's, in which all the men ever you seen dancing around tables and chairs were solid gold. her. Some of thein weren't much Paddy was quite delighted ; and, after bigger than my thumb; yet they were sitting down, a fine lady handed him so nimble and so soople, that it would a glass of something to drink ; but do your heart good to look at them, he had hardly swallowed a spoonful only for the fear.' when all around set up a horrid yell ; - Then you saw the good people ?' and those, who before appeared beau- • Troth, I did, and felt 'em, too.' tiful, now looked like what they were Why, did they beat you ?'. --enraged good people. Before • Och, aye, by the powers, kilt me Paddy could bless himself, they seized quite ! One o' them, who was neither him, legs and arms, carried him out like a goat nor a calf, but the exact to a great high hill, that stood like a image of both, came behind me, and, wall over a river, and flung him without saying as much as down. Murdher! cried Paddy ; but leave, Luke," hit's me a polthough it was no use; he fell upon a rock, between my shoulders ; and, though and lay there as dead until next morn- I run for the bare life, he kept thumping, where some people found him in ing me until I reached the door; and the trench that surrounds the mote of then, with a terrible big thump, he Coulhall, the good people having drove me clean into the kitchen, here. carried him there: and from that Och! I'm sure there's not a whole hour till the day of his death he was bone in my skin!' the greatest object in the world. He Oh! it was only the Phooka,' walked two double, and had his said the smith ; 'you'll not make mouth (God bless us !) where his ear game of him any more, and so now should be. I saw him often and often pay what you lost.'. With this dewhen I was a girl.'
mand Luke complied ; and, as the Towards the conclusion of Rose's whole company were now pretty well narrative the company had collected terrified, they soon after left the themselves into a very narrow circle shibbeen, and returned to their rearound her, and had not recovered spective homes, thoroughly convinced from the wonder her story had ex- of the existence of good people.' cited, when the door flew open, and Next day Luke was sent to work Luke Driscol fell prostrate on the floor. in the very field where the Rath was
•I have won my bet!' exclaimed situated, and, to his amazement, was the smith. Take care of my pipe!' strictly enjoined to plough through cried out the old woman; while others, the prohibited ground-ground held having less cause for selfishness, rais- so long sacred, and undisturbed by
spade or coulter, that the reason why the lower regions had yawned forth it is so is utterly unknown.* At their inmates, for the destruction of first Luke gently remonstrated ; 'for Mr. Power's property, as the cattle sure such a thing as ploughing a had broke loose from their stalls, and Rath was never heard of before; and commenced destroying each other. the master could not be in earnest to No one would dare venture out; and bring the good people on his back. at day-break, when the unearthly This argument proving unavaling, storm had subsided, the out-offices Luke related his adventure of the were a complete wreck, several cows preceding night, at which Mr. Power and pige killed, and the once comonly laughed. Luke, having no fur- fortable bawn presented only a scene ther excuse, at length positively re- of desolation. Next night the visitafused, on which the farmer seized tion was repeated with more than its the plough-desired the boy to drive former horror; and the day followon-but had not gone more than a ing Luke called upon Peg Martin, yard or two into the Rath, when crash the Witch of Tracy's Town, for adwent the beam. Another plough be- vice and assistance. The hag was ing procured, it was quickly served at first inexorable ; but the artful in the same inanner; and what Luke ploughman contrived to soften her regarded as the work of the fairies into compliance by the present of a his master attributed to the quantity guinea, and the promise of sundry of roots which had grown in the things, which he never intended to ground. Abandoned, however, the give. In the evening he returned work was on this day; and that night home, took the paddle, and turned the farmer suffered for his temerity. hack the sod into the furrow ; after About twelve o'clock his house was which he poured on the Rath a libation assailed by a tremendous gale of of cows' beestheens, which seemed to wind that threatened to carry away have had the effect of averting furthe roof, while sounds and screams ther calamity from his master, as he of the most terrific kind filled the slept the next and each succeeding bawn or farm-yard. It seemed as if night in undisturbed tranquillity.
TO-DAY IN IRELAND. • The demand,' the political eco- would be only to imitate the dubious nomists say, “produces the supply ;' kindness of the gaol surgeon, who and we must refer to this axiom for restores his patient to health that he an explanation of the sudden irrup- may endure a more painful death. tion, as it were, of Irish publications, We have, therefore, from motives of or, more correctly speaking, publica- humanity, consigned these ephemeral tions relative to Ireland, in the lite- abortions to the tomb of all the Carary market. Politics has its ' tens pulets,' and restricted ourselves to of thousands of pamphlets, which, works of better promise-publicalike certain insects, have the term of tions of a more literary and permatheir existence limited to a day, while nent cast-in which instruction is the labours of the polemic are quite as sometimes blended with amusement. brief and transitory. To cause a re- The mutation of taste is proverbial: suscitation of these, by critical notice, Scotch novels have had their day; and
* Rath, according to Spenser, signifies a hill, but I never knew one of them to be particularly elevated. In general they are separated from the adjoining field by a kind of ditch, though sometimes undistinguished except by the brushwood, which, in the total absence of cultivation, is allowed to grow on them. Some are very large, not unfrequently occupying an acre of ground, though others do not exceed a few perches square. The peasantry regard them as the peculiar habitations of the good people ; and, as antiquarians are unable to explain their original purpose, may not I as well elucidate the mystery, by assuring them that Raths were the burial-places of the people, previous to the introduction of Christianity. One of them is to be found in every townland ; and I have myself found one of them filled with human bones-a fact which accounts for the veneration in which they are held.
† To-day in Ireland, 3 vols. 8vo. Charles Knight. London. Voni-Vo..
the Great Unknown, or, rather, the manners—to show us ourselves in the well known, seems to be aware of magic mirror of genius, and bring bethis ; for, if report speaks true, Sir fore us scenes and persons with whom Walter has gone to Wales and we have been familiar. This is a task Syria for the materials of his long- to which few are equal; and, knowing promised, well-puffed, • Crusaders.' the talents that an undertaking of the Once we heard that it was his inten- sort requires, it is with considerable tion to make Ireland the scene of a apprehension that we read every new • Waverley' exhibition; but this idea, announcement of works on Ireland, we believe, he has now abandoned ; lest, in the infancy of inquiry, wrong and, considering the imperfect know- notions should be imbibed by the ledge he must necessarily have of that public from writers biassed by party country and people, we think it as or inistaken from ignorance. well that he has done so; for it was it was not without feelings of this impossible that he could depict Irish kind that we took up the work before life with the same felicity with which us, and had not read far when conhe has drawn his Highland neigh- vinced that our fears were not groundbours. With the one he was familiar less. The author is undoubtedly one from childhood, with the other he is from whom better things may be extotally unacquainted. An erroneous pected, and has shown, in the present description of foreign scenery and instance, talents of no mean order, manners could not be easily detected; though evidently not under the conbut the novelist who should mistaké trol of judgment or experience. Were either one or the other in Ireland we to draw an inference from his work, would encounter the ridicule of a we should conclude he is a young thousand readers.
man just let loose from school; Considering how fertile the liistory for his ideas are only half-formed, of Ireland is in novel and romantic many of his opinions are rash, and a incidents, it is somewhat strange that great portion of his wit abortive. a tield so prolific has been so totally Still he is not without redeeming neglected; for we have no work illus- qualities : he abounds with that intrative of the past state of that king- dicative of genius-confidence; and, dom, unless those which issue from though this occasionally looks like Mr. Newman's shop, in Leadenhall impudence, we are inclined to think Street, and these we could never it springs from a less censurable muster courage to read. An attempt source. Many of his sketches are of this kind, if made by a man of ta- just and eloquent, and many of his lent, well acquainted with Ireland, opinions are intitled to examination; would be likely to succeed. The but, taken as a whole, the work is unEnglish people know nothing of Irish deserving of praise, and seems to have history; and, as the affairs of that been written with little care and great country now preponderate both in haste. It consists of four tales. The the political and fashionable world, first, entitled • The Carders,' evinces any work that tends to throw light on such a contempt of probability, that the subject is sure of attention; and we shall take no further notice of it one of the description we mention than merely to point out the author's could not but prove efficacious, in as absurd conclusion-namely, that the much as it would cheat the public into Jesuits are the secret agents of Whiteuseful information-a knowledge of boyism! Indeed, throughout the the sufferings of Ireland.
three volumes his hostility to the CaIn saying this we do not mean to tholic clergy is very remarkable; and, deprečjate the labour of those whose from the drafts he has given us of works are calculated to make Eng- some of them, we are persuaded he land acquainted with the present con- knows nothing of that meritorious dition of the Irish people. On the class of men. We are sorry for this, contrary, we consider them of a higher hecause we believe he is not devoid order, helieving that it is much less of candour, as in other respects he difficult to give a pleasing description has shown a laudable feeling towards of times and customs long past than the Catholics of Ireland. We would, to draw a faithful picture of existing therefore, recommend him to pay a
visit to the priest of the parish, drink • Amongst O'Sing's disciples the lower a tuinbler of good whisky punch order, whose feelings in loyalty, its conwith him, and we are convinced he trary, in religion, or in any party-followwill repent
of having endeavoured to ing, are always personal if possible, looked bring the Catholic clergy, ay, or the upon the new curate with alienation and Jesuits either, into contempt.
resentment. The higher proselytes, whose The second tale, Connemara,' is attachment was to the sectarian spirit, not a preposterous attempt at ridiculing a
to its preacher, approached St. George, on
the contrary, with the blandest counman already sufficiently ridiculous.
tenances of favour and patronage.
Of The caricature cannot be mistaken, this number, Gervas Lowrie, Esquire, of and every reader will immediately re- Laylands, took an early opportunity of cognise a well-known legislator in the visiting St. George, and begged his comabsurd Dick M'Loughlin. In this, pany to dinner on the following Saturday. as in the former tale, all probability • This invitation had scarcely been acis outraged, and the reader turn's cepted by St. George, and its severe and away in disgust from the vapid non
solemn bearer turned his horse from the
door, when a gentleman of the opposite In the third tale, Old and New party came to pay his respects to the Lights,' the author is more at home.
As Mr. Pennington coming, met His high-church principles sharpen nied the salute of the former, which might
Mr. Lowrie departing, a smile accompahis wit; and, as we dislike all new
have been interpreted,“ We are both early lights except gas, we shall make a in the field, and on the same errand; few extracts from this tale.
but Lowrie, though he returned the amiCharles St. George, a young man
cable salute, disdained a smile on any of talents, and great inexperience, such trivial occasion. having graduated in Trinity College, They were both gentlemen of the first decided on entering the Church, and, rank and property in the country: Mr. soon after being ordained, was sent Lowrie, perhaps, the wealthier of tắe two, down to a curacy at Ardenmore, in although Mr. Pennington, from his affabithe county of Louth. Believing that lity and style of living, was more popular, he should have but two enemies
and more respected amongst all ranks, Catholicism and infidelity—to con
He came to pay the same compliment, and tend with, he armed himself on all last visitor of his company to dinner on
make the same request with St. George's points against popery and deism; the following Sunday. “ But,” continued but, contrary to his expectation, the that gentleman, “ as we are all at Ardenfirst person that welcomed him on more House anxious of your acquaintance, his arrival was Father M‘Dowd ;-a and as you must be lonely these first days fancy sketch, for the original, we are of your sojourn, you will favour us by sure, is not to be found in Ireland. waving ceremony, and partaking of our Enemies, however, he was destined to family repast to-day.' encounter, and, what was still more
St. George consented, and for the strange, they lurked among his own first time learned the schism that disflock, deposited there by the Rev. tracted the people of Ardenmore. Mr. O'Sing, his predecessor, who was removed more to the south, in dinner conversation, St. George did not
During the whole course of afterconsequence of his evangelical tenets.
recover his astonishment at finding himHe was a young man of weak intel- self thrown upon a land of controversy lects, and warm imagination, who Gulliver was not more annoyed when he prayed in society and conversed from stumbled on Laputa—a controversy, too, the reading-desk in the drawing- in which he was totally uninstructed and room he preached and in the pulpit unprepared. Against Deist or Catholic he wept;' so that the sanctified cu- opponents he had armed himself with the rate might have been described as breast-plate and back-plate of orthodoxy; when nearest the church to have but the side-armour to defend him against been farthest from God. He had,
those faithless allies, that attacked him however, his disciples; but, as the insidiously in flank, he was totally with
Heavens !” mentally ejaculated old lights dreaded 'puritanical inno- he, “ what a land !-discord and dissenvations, they succeeded in having him sion are its very elements! Here, in this removed, in consequence of which his county, equally removed from Catholicism followers regarded him as a martyr. and Presbyterianism, where the established religion prevails more triumphantly than gratis and of their own accord, they began in any part of Ireland, the very Protestants at length to feel the necessity of supplying split instantly into parties, and, forgetful its place by some enthusiastic feeling of of the common enemy that rages around kindred excitement. And at the hour most them, they combat, and argue, and hate, apropos, the zealous, eloquent, and senfor some minor points of difference, habits sitive O'Sing made his appearance in of life, and such like, with more virulence the pulpit of Ardenmore church, and inand animosity than what in other countries stantly decided the direction in which the separates Turk and Christian. It was to sprouting sensibilities of the Miss Lowries escape this wordy warfare, this turmoil, should shoot. Pity is akin to love, say this ambition, that I shunned the bar, and the poets--so is sanctity, saith observasought the retirement of the church; and tion, much given to the tender passion ; yet this very harbour, whither I have fled, and Miss Jemima Lowrie, as she was heI find tossed and agitated by fiercer waves roically bidding adieu to all further thoughts than even the wide ocean of life.”
of love, that she might devote herself exHe was not interrupted in these clusively to meditations by Mr. Pennington, or “ Maiden meditation, fancy free,”. his guest, young Harry Lowrie, who received a dart in the very hour of flight had refused to embrace the new light from the hitherto inattentive little deity; adopted by his family. After some that left her heart in a piteous state of time, however, he recovered from his perplexity, sadly taken, not only with the reverie, and found himself agreeably preaching, but the person, of Mr. O'Sing. entertained by Miss Mary Penning
In return, that weeping ecclesiastic, who, ton, a young artless giri, and her through his tears had always a shrewd eye
to his interest, was neither blind nor uncousin, Louisa Pennington, a coquette. grateful to the preference of Miss Jemima. of thirty. With the latter St. George Ånd the lovers were meditating an holy falls in love. On Saturday he visited escapade together, when the primate's disthe Lowries at Laylands, where every missal came to mar at once the effects of thing was arranged after the evange- his eloquence, both sacred and profane. It lical fashion-formal, cold, and hypo- is astonishing, that in her former graceless critical. Even the looks of the young state of luke-warm religion, Miss Jemima ladies had a puritanical cast.
could never for a moment have dared to * The present may be the best opportu- entertain the thought of flying from her nity of mentioning that the introduction of parents, and uniting herself to a poor upNew Light into Laylands had been owing start, for such was Õ’Sing; but sanctity is to these young ladies. They were young,
a supreme excellence, the consciousness of but not very young; say four, five, and possessing which counterbalances and exsix-and-twenty were their respective ages;
cuses in its possessor a world of foible. and, consequently, there had passed over
· How the
ladies had contrived to their heads some six or eight years of their win over their parents to this New Light, most attractive period of bloom and beauty, as it was called, is quite as inexplicable to without bringing to their sides one de- me; but certain it is, that the old people clared lover, or probable husband. That received from their offspring this fruit that they ever sought or desired to see such a seemed to convey to them now, for the being, I would not affirm-young ladies first time in their long lives, a knowledge never can be suspected of such views. of good and evil--the evil past, the good But, certainly, for one month in each of to come. Mr. O'Sing was, no doubt, inthese years they had not failed to show strumental ; but the truth is, that fanaticthemselves in tảe gay society of Dublin; ism, especially in the better or higher and at other times the ten or twelve miles ranks of life, always commences its attack distance between Laylands and Drogbeda wisely upon the weaker sex, and from them was never an cbstacle to their journeying is communicated to that weaker portion of to and from the assemblies of that gay the stronger, who find it at once peaceable town. In despite of all this, however, and congenial to them to follow the dicwhether it proceeded from want of beauty, tates of their spouses.' accomplishment, or good fortune ; or whether, as is often the case, adventurous voured to win St. George to the New
The Lowries having in vain endeabeaus were frightened or puzzled in proaching the sororial trio, so it happened Light, he quits the Laylands without that the thrus vacant places at their sides exciting any feeling in his favour, had never been, one of them, satisfactorily and next day, in his sermon, confilled. Now, as love is the natural occu- firmed the fears of those who suspation of youth, and as the Miss Lowries pected that he was not a worthy sucwere far too well behaved to fall in love cessor of Mr. O'Sing. The Old Lights,