Malachy and Emmet were, to say the least, deeply engaged in the conspiracy. The silence preserved on the subject by my two friends appeared to me an unworthy reflection on my courage and love of liberty, and in the pique of the moment I resolved to show myself as ready as they were to stand forward against the oppressors of Ireland. Treason could not have approached me at a time more favourable; like Jaffier, circumstances had prepared me for the reception of seditious principles. The horrid history of Howlan's sufferings had made so deep an impression on me that I burned with the desire of being instrumental in relieving Ireland from such monstrous tyranny. I was, it is true, an Englishman by birth, but Ireland always had my affection; it was the land of my parents-of my ancestors-of every thing that was noble in the family; and for it I felt a most ardent and proud attachment. That she was oppressed by a herd of local tyrants I could have no doubt; for I had heard Malachy relate his grievances, and listened to the tale of Howlan's wrongs. I was young, enthusiastic, and generous; somewhat ambitious of renown; and desirous of signalizing myself in some achievement that might preserve my name from oblivion. The opportunity, as I thought, now presented itself, and I willingly embraced it. I eagerly learned from Denis that the conspirators met in a valley not far from where we were, and that he was hastening to join them I signified my readiness to attend him; and, as Denis was not a man of ceremony, he did not stand long upon punctilios, but immediately conducted me across heathy and desolate hill, towards the place of rendezvous. : a The night had closed around us as we approached a mountain chasm; and, after scrambling through a rude aperture in a stupendous rock, we found ourselves in a kind of natural recess, formed by an amphitheatre of surrounding hills, whose overhanging acclivities frowned in gloomy horror upon the little valley. By the light of the stars we could discern some persons, who had entered before us, proceeding towards the opposite side, and we accordingly followed in their footsteps. We had not proceeded far when the voice of a person speaking fell upon our ears, and I had not to listen long before I recognised the deep, but harmonious, accents of my friend Emmet, as he addressed the people around him, who appeared to be about the number of five hundred. His harangue was on popular topics of Irish grievances, and he spoke with a fervency of manner that showed him sincere in the sentiments he ut-* tered. When he concluded Malachy took his station, and proceeded to address the peasantry. I could not but observe in his speech superior ingenuity. Emmet was more eloquent, but less artful; more impassioned, but less logical. There was sincerity in every word he uttered, and patriotism appeared to predominate in every measure he recommended, whilst humanity breathed throughout his discourse. But Malachy addressed himself directly to the passions, and so intimately blended religion with politics that his auditors could scarcely suppress the operation of their feelings; and when he concluded an involuntary burst of applause followed. Denis, who had listened with the utmost attention to both of the speakers, now took me by the hand, and led me into the throng. Malachy cast his eye upon me, and instantly exclaimed A spy!' 'A spy!' was re-echoed by a hundred voices, and in a moment the deferential horror of all present caused a circle to be formed around me, every man being eager to get as far as possible from what he considered the contagion of my presence. The indignation I felt at Malachy's imputation for a moment deprived me of speech, and I felt as if rivetted to the place, when Emmet kindly stepped forward and took me by the hand. My friends,' said he, there is some mistake; Mr. Kn is a young man of liberal principles, and high notions of honour, and I am certain that he is incapable of betraying our secret, much less acting as a spy upon our proceedings.' do me but justice,' I replied, for I came here this night to learn if your cause was such as required or de You served the assistance of a freeman's arm, and not basely to betray my countrymen, for, I trust those that surround me will not refuse me the fraternal embrace because I was born in England, while my parents and heart were ever Irish.' This remark elicited much applause, and I proceeded: I trust that the person who has imputed such a base motive to my presence here has mistaken me’ You are right, Godfrey,' interrupted Malachy, with the utmost familiarity; 'I did indeed mistake you for another person.' I thought as much,' said Emmet, and let us now rejoice that our cause, the noblest in which man was ever engaged, has received the acquisition of a pure spirit who feels indignant at our wrongs, and who burns to avenge them.' Harmony being thus restored, the meeting, after some desultory proceedings, dispersed, and Emmet, Malachy, and I, proceeded to Castle The arguments of my enthusiastic young friend during the evening served to make me enamoured of his ideal republic, which he painted in all the rich colours of his vivid and excursive fancy. For the first time in my life I retired to rest with the sin of disloyalty on my soul. GODFREY K- -N. SUPERSTITIONS OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY.-NO. VI. O'DONOHUE'S BAGPIPES. IN the kingdom of Kerry, where the men are brave, and the women chaste-the cows little, and the hills many-lived one Mick M'Connell, a dark* man, who played upon the bagpipes; and a most beautiful fine piper he was, without an equal in the whole country, for a thousand miles round. Mick, though blind, knew every nook and corner from Kenmare to Tralee; and had a great advantage over those who could see, for he could travel just as well by night as by day without ever making a false step or once missing his road; and that was a great blessing indeed, and only for it poor Mick would have been badly off; for he had neither wife nor child, kit, kin, or relation, to say as much as How do you do?' or Do you want any thing, Mick?' Poor Mick was a wet soul to boot, and was never sober when he could get any thing to drink, and that was always and all weathers; for he was born in the good old times, when the real gentlemen lived in the country, that hadn't their hearts in a trifle: there was nothing then but coshering and patterns, dancing and hunting. Peelers were then unknown; and a gauger daren't show his nose within fifty miles of the Devil's Punch-bowl; and very bad punch it was the last time I tasted it; and, if old Nick' can't make better, he might as well stay where he is, and never open a public house within sight of Mangerton mountain. Of all the days in the year, it was May-eve that Mick was in the town of Killarney; and, as he met one and another who was right glad to see him, he had a shake hands here, drank a glass of whiskey there; a tumbler of punch in one place, and a pint of ale in another; until Mick became as noisy as his own pipes, which he always carried with him, and particularly on this day, because he was on his road to visit Mr. Herbert, at Mucruss, whose house stands upon a spot which, of all places in the world, I'd like to live and die in, if the proprietor would only let me. Mick was in no hurry out of town, because, you see, he did'nt know the sun had gone to bed for the night among Mac Gilly Cuddy's Reeks, and only thought of going about his business when told by Mrs. Fitzgerald, the landlady of the Brien Boro, that she couldn't let him have any more whiskey that night, that she must go to bed, and that it was time for all honest people to be in theirs. Oh! very well, avourneen,' said Mick; and, putting his pipes under his arm, grasped his long staff, and walked away the best way he could; and that was bad enough, for the sorrow a well he could stand. He walked and walked till he couldn't tell where he was walking; and, at length, growing fatigued, he sat down upon a stone, *Blind. 6 Why what's the hurry?' asked Mick: I'm no midwife; but may be it's a wedden you'd be taken me to.' Something like it,' replied the stranger. 'Oh then, if that's what you want me for, I can't go; for I'm engaged for Mr. Herbert's to-morrow-the pattern next day-the wake the night after, and' And to-night for us,' interrupted the stranger, seizing Mick, and, lifting him up on the horse, gallopped away as if the Puck was at their heels, and never crack-cried till they came to the lake; nor didn't stop there neither, but dashed into it, and went God knows where; for next morning Mick was found asleep under a tree in the Eskamucky Glyn by Tom M'Gordon. Get up, you beast,' said Tom, giving the piper akick; 'an isn't it a burning shame for a Christian soul to be seen in your situation this time o' day, on the king's road?' 'No in troth, Tom M'Gordon,' for he knew him at once, for a drop didn't cross my lips, barren a few mouthfuls at Mrs. Fitzgerald's. But, Lord bless us all, I've seen,last night' 'Arrah! you seen, Mick?' Yes, Tom, I did; for I was carried to O'Donohue's cave: laugh away, but I tell God's truth.' 'Well, let us hear it.' So Mick began, and told him that he was walking to Mucruss; that he sat down on the side of the road, and began to play on his pipes; that horsemen came up and carried him away; and that he didn't know where they took him to. They dashed through thick and thin,' he continued, 'till at last they bid me alight. "Welcome to O'Donohue's palace, Mick M'Connell," said a strange voice. "Be easy now,' said I, " and don't be goen the mursha over me-O’Donohue, indeed !” "Unbelieving piper," said he, "open your eyes and see;" and sure enough I got my sight, the Lord be praised for all things! and where should I find myself but standing in a great hall, much finer than Lord Kenmare's, though that's a very fine one too. "Cross o' Christ about us," said I, "what's all this?" "The palace of the great and good O'Donohue," said he. "Well, by the powers," said I, "this beats Bannacher, and, any how, I'll give him a tune:" so saying, I yoked the pipes, and commenced the Foxhunters," when a hundred ladies and gentlemen, all in silks and satins, ran in to hear me; and sure enough every body likes to please the great, and why should not Mick M'Connell ? The ladies laughed with their pretty smiling faces, and pity they'd ever do any thing else; and the men cried out, "Hoop! halloo !" for you know I can do any thing with that same tune. Troth, I am complete master of it! However, what's hunney to one is pison to another, as the saying is; and the ould bard, with a beard as long as my arm, and as white as my shirt, got so enraged, that, failing to stop his ears with his hands, he seized a rusty sword, and popped it * Correctly written Staca an Mharaga-The Market Stake. + Three Sixpences. + Shillings. O Lord,' cried Mick, and awaked up. Drunk again last night, Mick?' said Tom. into my poor bellows, and of course the tune was ended; but one of the grandees present soon mended the matter, by bringing me a span new set of pipes, twice as good as the ould ones. "They were all so delighted with my music that they would hear no other play; and, having placed me in a great grand chair, they forced me to eat and drink of the very best, for I was a little shy before such fine ladies and gintlemen. But troth they wern't more pleased with me than I with them; for, when they began to dance, it would do your heart good to see them handle their feet. Jigs, reels, and country dances didn't come amiss for them, and the sun performed a hornpipe on Lough. Lane before they had concluded. Just at that moment a trumpet sounded, and I was led out, where a most beautiful horse waited for me, and in a jiffy the whole train was mounted; and, what was most wonderful of all was, to see the horses walk upon the water without sinking. O'Donohue himself, on a white horse,* marched before his train, to sounds of music; but, by the powers! I was myself the best musicioner among 'em, so I was; and so O'Donohue said when we all returned to the palace. "Mick M'Connell," said he, "will you stop and live with us?" "I'd be mighty glad, your honour,' said I, "only I am engaged this day at Mr. Herbert's, to-morrow at the pattern "Oh, never mind," said he, interrupting me," about Mr. Herbert or patterns, but stay here, and you must have eaten and drinken to your heart's content." "But sure, your honour," said I, "wouldn't have me break my word; and if you'd just be after letting me go to "If you stir," says he, "I'll strike you as blind as brick-bat again.” "Oh your honour wouldn't do that, any way, for the sight is a mighty great blessing, and so I argufied the matter with him; but, if I said mass on the hobstone, it wouldn't satisfy him: and so, when I said I should go, he gave me a polthoge in the side, and I never knew what became o' me afterwards until you awakened me here." * O'Donohue, according to a tradition yet brief among the Irish peasantry, was a prince of great virtue and renown, who lived near Lough Lane, now the Lakes of Killarney. He, as a reward for his terrene acts, is permitted occasionally to visit the scenes of his former greatness, and is to be seen on each May morning on his white horse gliding over the lakes, accompanied by the most delicious music. The particulars of this tradition may be found in Derrick's Letters,' in ' Weld's Killarney,' &c. The foam caused by the waves breaking on the shore is called, by the peasantry, 'O'Donohue's White Horse.' + Sucking pig. VOL. I. No. 6. 2 M it was, sure enough, for even in those good times there was plenty of misery; and more's the pity, for poor Pandy would be happy if he could then as well as now. In the corner next the fire stood the old wooden cradle, and in it the brat, who set up a pullillue the moment he saw Mick, and couldn't be pacified until he got the pipes to please him, but then he seemed highly delighted, and laughed with gladness. Scarcely had they sat down to the dish of sturabout, when in walked the tithe-proctor, to demand the award of the bishop's court; and, while poor Tom was apologizing for not having the money, the landlord's bailiff entered, followed by the constable, who came for the grand jury cess. Any more of you?' asked Tom. 'Yes,' answered the parish-clerk, I come for the church rates.' God bless you all,' said Tom, as he turned around to wipe away the tears that stood in his eyes. Father, father,' cried the brat in the cradle. 'Whist, you cur,' says Kate, 'there's no ho with you when your father is in the house.' Oh, don't be cross, Kate aghudh,' said Tom, the poor child wants something;' and sure enough it did, for it was nothing less than to yoke the pipes for him; and so he did, and the brat slipped into them as if he had been a piper all his life. 'He's a genius,' cried Mick, on hearing the first screech of the pipes; and the brat gave a loud laugh. Try it again, my boy,' said the tithe-proctor, and so he did, when he set them all instantly laughing; nor could they help it; and, when he changed the tune, they began, as loud as they could bawl, to sing Garryone na gloria. That'll do,' said the little fellow in the cradle, who seemed highly delighted with the effect produced by his music. Now for the jig polthoge,' and up bounced the tithe-proctor, the constable, the bailiff, and clerk, and commenced dancing like madmen, with their sticks (for every man in Ireland carries a stick) in their hands. Fogha-boileach,'* cried the brat, at the same time changing his music, and whap, whap, whap, went the sticks upon their heads. Mick crept under the table; Tom jumped up on the dresser; and Kate sought safety in the ashes' corner, while the little fellow kept screeching in the cradle even louder than his bagpipes. Once more he altered his tune: the combatants desisted; but, instead of stopping to carry away poor M'Gordon's furniture, they ran from the house as if it had been infected, without saying as much as "Good by to you, Tom." The astonished cottier turned his eyes up to heaven; Mick crept from his hiding-place; and Kate, after blessing herself, seized upon the brat. I knew you weren't good,' she exclaimed, you spawn of a Sheeoge! but now I'll settle you,' and she flung him into the turf fire, and a good one it was after boiling the sturabout. 'Bad luck to you, you ould hag,' says he, I often suspected you for this, and weren't it for the kindness of Tom M'Gordon, I'd have made you sup sorrow long since.' So saying he floated like a balloon up the chimney, and father or mother's son never saw him afterwards. As for the bagpipes, they were immediately purchased by the minister of the parish, for such an instrument in the hands of the Irish peasantry would prove dangerous to the interest of those who live on tithes. The drones, it is said, were committed to the flames as not quite orthodox; but the bellows are yet shown to the curious as the remains of O'Donohue's bagpipes. * Strike altogether. |