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gone to their Rath, or Mote ; but swear it was the same; and yet it where was the little dun cow? He wasn't, as you shall hear by-and-by. looked, and he looked; and he might • Shemus and his mother brought have looked froin that day to this, the dead beast home with them ; and, bekase she wasn't to be found; and after skinnen her hung the meat up good reason why—the ganconers in the chimney. The loss of the drop took her away with 'em.
o'milk was a sorrowful thing; and, Shemus-a-sneidh, however, didn't though they had a good deal of meat, think so, but ran home to his mother. that couldn't last always; besides
" Where is the cow, Shemus?” the whole parish faughed upon axed the ould woman.
them for eating the flesh of a beast “ Och, musha, bad luck to her," that died without bleeden. But the said Shemus, “I donna where she is.” pretty thing was, they couldn't eat
“Is that an answer, you big blag- the meat afther all; for, when it was gard, for the likes o' you to give your boiled, it was as tough as carrion, poor ould mother?” said she.
and as black as a turf.
You might “ Och, musha,” said Shemus, as well think of sinking your teeth in “ don't kick up such a bollhour about an oak plank as into a piece of it; and nothen. The ould cow is safe enough, then you'd want to sit a great piece I be bail, some place or other, though from the wall for fear of knocking I could find her if I put my eyes your head against it when pulling it upon kippeens; and, speaken of through your teeth. eyes, faith, I had very good luck o' • At last and at long run they were my side, or I had nare a one to look forced to thow it to the dogs; but the afther her.”
dogs wouldn't smell to it, and so it Why, what happened your eyes, was thrown into the ditch, where it agrah?"axed the ould woman. rotted. This misfortune cost poor
“Oh! didn't the ganconers—the Shemus many a salt tear, for he was Lord save us from all hurt and harm! now obliged to work twice as hard as -drive their hurlen ball into them before, and be out cutten heath on both ? and sure I was stone blind for the mountain late and early. One an hour.”
day he was passen by this Cairne with “ And may be," said the mother, a load of brooms on his back, when " the Good People took our cow?" what should he see but the little dun
“No, nor the devil a one o' them,” cow, and two red-headed fellows herdsaid Shemus, “for, by the Powers, ing her? that same cow is as knowen as a law- “ That's my mother's cow,” said yer, and wouldn't be such a fool as to Shemus-a-sneidh. go with the ganconers while she could “No,it is not,” said one of the chaps. get such grass as I found for her to- “But I say it is,” said Shemus, day.”
throwing the brooms on the ground, In this way, continued my infor- and seizing the cow by the horns. At mant, they talked about the cow all that the red fellows drove her as fast that night; and, next mornen, both as they could to this steep place, and o' them
set off to look for her. Afther with one leap she bounced over, with searching every place, high and low, Shemus stuck fast to her horns. They what should Shemus see sticking out made only one splash in the lough, of a bog-hole but something very when the waters closed over'em, and like the horns of his little beast? they sunk to the bottom. Just as
“Oh, mother, mother !” said he, Shemus-a-sneidh thought that all was « I've found her!”
over with him, he found himself be“ Where, alanna?” axed the ould fore a most elegant palace built with
jewels, and all manner of fine stones. “ In the bog-hole, mother,” an- Though his eyes were dazzled with swered Shemus.
the splendour of the place, faith he . At this the poor ould creathure had gomsh enough not to let his set up such a pullallue, that she holt, but, in spite of all they could do, brought the seven parishes about her; he held his little cow by the horns. and the neighbours soon pulled the He was axed into the palace, but cow out of the bog-hole. You'd wouldn't go.
Vol. I.--No. 8.
The hubbub at last grew so great “ Here you can eat and drink of that the door few open, and out the best.” walked a hundred ladies and gentle- “ Since I've got my cow, I can men, as fine as any in the land. have milk once more with the phea
“What does this boy want ?” axed ties.” one o' them, who seemed to be the “ Oh!” cried the ladies, gathering masther.
round him, sure you wouldn't take “I want my mother's cow," said away the cow that gives us milk for Shemus.
our tea ?" “ That's not your mother's cow,” “ Oh!” said Shemus, “my mother said the gentleman.
wants milk as bad as any one, and “ Bethershin !” cried Shemus-a- she must have it ; so there is no use sneidh; “ don't I know her as well in your palavar-I must have my as I know my right hand ?”
cow." “ Where did you lose her ?” axed “At this they all gathered about the gentleman ; and so Shemus up him, and offered him bushels of gould, and tould him all about it, how he but he wouldn't have any thing but was on the mountain-how he saw his cow. Seeing him as obstinate as the Good People hurlen-how the a mule, they began to thump and ball was knocked in his eye-and his beat him; but still he held fast by the cow was lost.
at length a great blast of wind “ I believe you are right,” said the blew him out of the place, and, in a gentleman, pulling out his purse moment, he found himself and the and here is the price of twenty cows cow standing on the side of the lake, for you."
the water of which looked as if it “No, no,” said Shemus, “ you'll hadn't been disturbed since Adam was not catch ould birds wid chaff. I'll a boy ; and that's a long time since. have my cow, and nothen else.”
Well, Shemus-a-sneidh drove “ You're a funny fellow,” said the home bis cow, and right glad his gentleman. “May be you'd stop here, mother was to see her; but, the moand live with us ?"
ment she said “God bless the beast," No,” said Shemus-a-sneidh, “I'd she sunk down like the breesha of a rather live with my mother."
turf rick; and that was the end of “Foolish boy!” said the gentleman,
Shemus-a-sneidh's dun cow. “ stop here, and live in a palace.” · And sure, continued my compa
“ I'd rather live in my mother's nion, standing up, “it is now time for cabin."
me to look afther my brown cow, and “ Here you can walk through gar- God send the ganconers haven't dens loaded with fruit and flowers." taken her! Of this I assured him
I'd rather,” said Shemus, there could be no fear; and so we cutting heath on the mountain.” parted.
MR. BLANCO WHITE'S EVIDENCE AGAINST THE CATHOLICS. MR. JOSEPH BLANCO WHITE, you which they were exiled by the predecome before us in a questionable cessors of those whose champion you shape.' You have proclaimed your- have become, and whose religious self a renegade Spaniard, an apostate and political principles you have esCatholic, an ex-Jesuit, and an enemy poused. The ties of kindred and of that unfortunate country which country you have burst through, the your forefathers loved, and from claims of honour you have disregard
* Practical and internal Evidence against Catholicism, with occasional Strictures on Mr. Butler's Book of the Roman Catholic Church : in Six Letters, addressed to the Impartial among the Roman Catholics of Great Britain and Ireland. By the Rev. Joseph Blanco White, M. A. B. D, in the University of Seville; Licentiate of Divinity in the University of Osuna ; formerly Chaplain Magistral (Preacher) to the King of Spain, in the Royal Chapel at Seville ; Fellow, and once Rector, of the College of St. Mary a Jesu of the same town; Synodal Examiner of the Diocese of Cadiz; Member of the Royal Academy of Belles-Lettres, of Seville, &c. &c.; now a Clergyman of the Church of England :-Author of Doblado's Letters from Spain. Murray, 1825.
A few Observations on the Evidence against Catholicism. By the Rev. J. B.White, &c. &c. &c. Booker, 1825.
ed, and you have obtruded yourself a education and that the Breviary in labelled and voluntary national in- Spain is a compound of lies-(and former. Nay, more, in contradiction, these are the amount of Mr. Blanco's we suppose, of the usual boast of Ca- objections)—what then? Why that tholics, you have revealed the secrets in a country where Catholics form of the confessional, you have drawn only one-third of the population, they arguments from your own disgust- should be emancipated at once. Ading vices, and libelled the religious mit them to the light of truth, if they females of your native country, ad- are in darkness; for that which is supvancing your own experience as a ported by reason will naturally attach proof of the immorality of Spanish men to it, when not withheld by the nunneries. Perhaps these are offences fear of being reproached with mercepardonable in our modern ethical nary motives. Mr. Blanco might schools, and no doubt would be re- have found this fact in the works of garded as harmless in a Court of a man, to whose writing, if the exEquity; but, amongst men of honour, Jesuit is to be believed, he is and of the world, nay, amongst pious indebted for his conversion from men, we are convinced they will be re- atheism to Christianity: but, alas ! ceived in a very different light. They Blanco is no philosopher; and, though will consider such barefaced ex- he has dipped into theology, it does not posures as indecent and uncalled for; appear that he read Paley's moral and and, applying the worldly maxim, they political works at all. 'In the work will doubt the statements of the before us, however, the ' Renegade gallant who could kiss and tell ;' for supplies an answer to his own arguit is pretty generally known that he ments, for he repeatedly says that who is in the habit of boasting of men are Catholics only because they ladies' favours has seldom been in are prevented from acquiring knowthe enjoyment of any.
ledge; and, in this as in other inMr. Blanco White, with all the stances, he adduces himself as an littleness of a pedant, has ostenta- irrefragable proof. Then why not tiously' set forth his learned titles allow them the means of seeing the and academical honours; but, what. deformity of their own creed? Why ever his other acquirements may be, keep them for ever brooding in the logic is decidedly not one of them, errors of superstition, when, by openfor we have never met with more disc ing the portals of the constitution, jointed arguments or more unwarrant- you would be shedding on them the able conclusions. His friends—and light of a purer religion, and introthey are the advocates of exclusion- ducing them to scenes where they have, however, declared that Mr. could not fail to recognise the loveBlanco White, the ex-Jesuit of liness of truth? Exclude them, and, Seville, has opposed Catholic eman- judging the future by the past, they cipation by new arguments, and that will continue for ever Papists; reinove he is the ablest champion which has their restrictions, and you give them yet appeared for Protestant ascend- à chance, at least, of abandoning ency. We are glad that they have This is the only answer such done so; we are glad that the rene- divines as Blanco merit. Admit all gade Tapists,' Phelan and O'Sullivan, their premises, and then turn their are put upon the shelf, because conclusions against themselves. these latter imbeciles are thus treated But we are not so slightly read in as presumptuous ignorance merits ; the philosophy of the human mind as and because that, if every thing Mr. to suppose, for an instant, that Blanco White has said respecting the Blanco believes in all he has stated : Catholic religion were true, the ne- he has been for some tiine an author cessity of speedy and unqualified by profession, and knows better how emancipation would be only made to write a book that will sell than a the more apparent.
book that will support the interest of Suppose we admit that the Catholic truth. Indeed, when we find that the religion generates intolerance-that Pope, according to his account, can it is not infallible--that it has no absolve a man from any crime, cancel unity--that monks and nuns are im- oaths, and do several such wonderful moral--that Rome is the enemy of things, we are half inclined to suspect
that Blanco is only a Jesuit in dis- the purity, the benevolence, the angelic guise—that he is, like a good Catho- piety of my father's life, that, at his death, lic, advancing the interest of his multitudes of people thronged the house religion under the gown of a Pro- to indulge a last view of the dead body.
Nor was the wife of his bosom at all betestant clergyman; for he tells us the Papists are obliged to do every tity of manners. The endeavours of such
hind him, either in fulness of faith or sancthing for the destruction of heresy, parents to bring up their children in conprovided they do nothing that injures formity with their religious notions may, their own religion. We are not in therefore, be fully conceived without the the secret; and perhaps some of the help of description. Continental powers, or even the Pope No waywardness of disposition appear. himself, might think, that opposing ed in me to defeat or obstruct their lathe emancipation of theIrish Catholics bours. At the age of fourteen all the seeds is the best way to extend the influence of devotion, which had been assiduously of the church of Rome. The daily sown in my heart, sprung up as it were conversions to Catholicity seem to spontaneously; The pious practices, confirm such a supposition: we would which had hitherto been a task, were now have the Bishop of London look to it the effect of my own choice. I became a in time,
constant attendant at the congregation of It is now time that we should tell tended for the church, generally had their
the Oratory, where pious young men, inthe reader who Joseph Blanco White spiritual directors. Dividing my tinie beis; but the ex-Jesuit has saved us a tween study and devotion, went through part of the trouble by furnishing the a course of philosophy and divinity at the following account of himself: University of Seville; at the end of which I am descended from an Irish family,
I received the Roman Catholic order of whose attachment to the Roman Catholic sub-deacon. By that time I had obtained religion was often proved by their endur- lor of Divinity. Being elected a Fellow
the degrees of Master of Arts and Bache. ance of the persecution which, for a long of the College of St. Mary a Jesu of Seperiod, aftlicted the members of their per- ville, when I was not of sufficient standing suasion in Ireland. My grandfather was the eldest of three brothers, whose volun- for the superior degree of Licentiate of tary banishment from their native land, I took that degree at Osuna, where the sta
Divinity,t which the Fellowship required, Tooted out my family from the county of Waterford. A considerable fortune en
tụtes demand no interval between these abled my ancestor to settle at Seville, where academical honours. A year had scarcely he was inscribed on the roll of the privi- elapsed since I had received priests orders, leged gentry, and carried on extensive when, after a public examination, in combusiness as a merchant. But the love of petition with other candidates, I obtained his native land could not be impaired by the stall of Magistral or Preacher, in the his foreign residence; and as his eldest chapter of king's chaplains, at Seville. son (my father) could not but grow at Placed, so young, in a situation which my tached to Spain, by reason of his birth, he predecessor had obtained after many years? sent him in his childhood to Ireland, that service as a vicar, in the same town, I conhe might also cling to that country by leisure to the study of religion. I need
ceived myself bound to devotę my whole early feelings of kindness. It was thus that my father combined in his person the
not say that I was fully conversant with two most powerful and genuine elements the system of Catholic divinity ; for I of a religionist-the unhesitating faith of owed my preferment to a public display of persecuting Spain; the impassioned belief theological knowledge ; yet I wished to of persecuted Ireland.
become acquainted with all kinds of works My father was the first of his kindred which might increase and perfect that that married into a Spanish family; and
knowledge.' his early habits of exalted piety made him
We take the subsequent part of choose a wife whom few can equal in reli- his life from the author of Obsergious sincerity. I have hallowed the vations, &c. pages of another work* with the character * Light clouds of doubt begun to pass of my parents : yet affection would readily over his mind, and to get rid of them he furnish me with new portraits, were I not preached a sermon on Infidelity to the anxious to get over this preliminary ego- Royal Brigade of Carabineers. The recipe tism. It is enough to say that such were seems strange, the effect of it still more * Letters from Spain, by Don Leucadio Doblado.'
Previous to the degree of Doctor of Divinity a severe examination takes place, which gives to the Licentiate all the rights, though not the honours, of Doctorship. These may be obtained by a Licentiate, at any time, by the payment of some fees.'
singular. This sermon quickened his con- sake which filial piety commanded him to version, and he was an atheist before the conceal. end of the year. What effect it had upon • I cannot help remarking upon the sinthe Royal Carabineers he does not say,- gularity of the scene of Mr. Blanco's sudno doubt it made them all athiests too, den conversion. All such speedy transi. that is to say if they heard it, and were tions of faith that I have ever hitherto not of the soldier's opinion, “ Qui'l ne faut heard of have been made in some situapas parler de la religion dans la guerre.” tion whose awfulness invoked the atten, He then gives his reasons for believing,- tion of the creature to the Creator and one of which was that without a living (in- claimed his devotion : but Mr. Blanco felt fallible interpreter) the Bible was a dead the inspiring influence of Church-of-Engletter.* But when he found this was not landism as he was prying about the paroso, he gave up the Bible and its Author, chial church of St. James's. Much as I and all the arguments in favour of one and admire the general doctrine of our church; the other and became an atheist. Now I I confess that I think it is rather by sober for one much doubt if there is any one so reflection in the chamber-by cool reason unfortunate as to be utterly destitute of all in the closel, that it will make converts, belief in a God; but thus far I am certain than by sudden enthusiasm, caught in its that Mr. Blanco never was. Of course I high places, and certainly than by the do not say it as a reproach ; I am very warmth inspired by its London palaces. glad he never was; but I only tell it as a But Mr. White entered the church by warning lest he may be in fact as little of some accident, unusual I presume, to an a Church-of-England man, as he was of an atheist as he professed himself to be; he atheist ; for as he plainly does not know saw the well-fed priest ascend the pulpit what the latter means he may perhaps he and heard the enlivening tones of his voice ignorant of the meaning of the former. In - he saw the glad glowing enthusiasm it which case he is not only deceiving him- kindled in his congregation, and he imself, but the Rev. Edward Coplestone, mediately concluded, that if there was not and even one whose good opinion, if I peace, there was at least plenteousness in understand him right, he would be still all her palaces. Thus convinced, the scepless willing to lose, the Right Rev. Lord tic Spaniard presently took English orders Bishop of London. During the whole and then he retired to Oxford, and in so period of his scepticism Mr. Blanco was doing chose the place the least fitted to incessant in prayer. But if there is one erase from his memory the religion he duty of religion that would be more slight- had originally professed, of any place in ed than another where all were disregard. the British dominions; there he saw the ed it would be that of prayer. To whom monuments of popish grandeur; there he should the atheist pray? Did Mr. Blanco saw the plenitude of popish institutes ; raise altars to Reason, or adore her in the there he saw the remains of popish bigoshape of a naked prostitute ? Perhaps not, try,and relics of popish superstition, popish
- but he was continually assailing Heaven feelings under Protestant garbs. with prayers for grace, though to what his sleep sound at the Mitre (may he nepower he addressed them, as he has not ver sleep under one again !) the first night told us, must remain undetermined. of his arrival at Oxford ?--Surely the
• Having excited the pity of all Chris- streets he had passed through, must have tian readers, by declaring himself to have made him tremble to think of the piles been an unbeliever ; he next tells us that that had been raised there for the destruche was a son, and gives a beautiful passage tion of Ridley, Latimer, and Cranmer in on his filial piety (a virtue that he fre- the darker ages of Catholic superstition. quently arrogates to himself,) and in one Whether his dreams were of these unforplace compares his feelings to those of tunate martyrs; or of the monks, martyrs Pope with regard to his mother. But to nothing but gout and disease that now whoever has read the poet's affecting letter possess those places he has not told us; will see how different was the delicacy of but he was soon called away to superinhis feeling (“ qui nequeat lacrymas per- tend the education of a nobleman's chilferre parentis”) who brings forward no dren. Who that nobleman was, he has stories of his mother's weaknesses, no la- not told us here, probably from some mentations over her obstinate enthusiasm, slight feeling of shame at inserting his but who felt in the true spirit of Chris- name in a publication the author must be tianity, that his God would be better too well aware how highly he would displeased by his preservation of his mother's approve, perhaps too, deeming that some heart than the declaration of his own con- of his readers might the less excuse the version. Religious enthusiasm in vain ap- man, who having had for two years the plied to him to rip up those errors for her advantage of that nobleman's conversa
• If the two bracketed words were omitted, this sentence might explain some of the latter part of the Rev. Gentleman's conduct.'