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• The subsequent progress of the truth has arisen. The invention of Reformation justifies these assertions. the art of printing, too, had previWhen the political events of Europe ously served to illuminate the darkintroduced the new religion to the ness of the human intelleet; and, patronage of despots reformers had wherever temporal institutions have no objection to invoke Heaven for not excluded this light, Catholic crowned heads; and from that time minds have vegetated beneath its into this the Book of Common Prayer fuence with as much luxuriance as in England has been filled with forms those of Protestants. of obtestations for each successive • But argument is unnecessary royal family

where facts are conclusive. If ProPartial'instances,' said I, are testant England obtained a Bill of not to be admitted as conclusive evi- Rights, Catholic England achieved dence. Let us look at the general Magna Charta : if Geneva is a Protendency of Protestantism; and, tak- testant free state, Switzerland was a ing it as we find it, does it not incul. republic nearly two hundred years cate sentiments of a more liberal and before the Reformation. Come home exalted character than your ancient to modern times. creed ?

Spread the map of Europe before • By no means,' replied Malachy, you, and, in whatever country there • for we must not give credit to any is a glimmering of freedom, you shall man's faith for what is due to his con- find as many of the inhabitants Castitution, no more than we should tholics as Protestants. If Spain and accuse Mohamedanism for the sallow Portugal are not free, neither is Dencomplexion of the Turks. The ty. mark nor Sweden ; and if Italy be in ranny of Christiern in Sweden, and chains, so is Prussia. England, then, of Henry in England, occasioned the is the only Protestant country which immediate successors of these cruel pretends to liberty; and accordingly despots to afford asylums to the early we find it the strong hold of this unreformers, where they have since con- supported opinion-retailed in the tinued; and, if they have at some times senate, where it is believed without evinced a love of independence, it is being examined ; and printed in the no more than might have been ex- newspapers, from which the credupected from men nursed in these lous nation swallow it with its accradles of liberty; for their prede- companying falsehoods. Yet, like cessors in all ages, and of nearly all other untruths, it requires only all religions, bore a similar cha- to be touched by the wand of Reason, racter.

when it vanishes into air, and “ leaves Nothing less than the most un- not a wreck behind." informed prejudice could induce any • The complaint against the Cathoman to exalt the Protestant at the lic religion is, that it tends to perpeexpense of the Catholic mind. Men tuate existing authorities; and this were brave, virtuous, and patriotic, cannot be denied: but try the Church ages before the Thirty-nine Articles of England by the same test, and you received royal approbation. Venice must discover that this error equally and Genoa astonished Europe in Ca- attaches to that establishment. The tholic times, and even Spain, with all Protestant hierarchy is as much, if not its bigotry, displayed a love of coun- more, wedded to ancient forms than try and a heroism seldom equalled, their popish predecessors; and, I becertainly never surpassed. Have Pope lieve, it will readily be admitted that, and Dryden been worse poets because if an angel from heaven were to dethey were Catholics? or Shakspeare scend with a plan of political reform, a better one because he was a Pro- the Church of England would reject testant?

it, unless it tended to increase their " The world, I admit, has been princely revenues, and add to their more enlightened since the Reforma- extravagant privileges. The charac tion; but that is cwing, in a great ters of men are formed much more by measure, to the collision of opposite temptations than by the duties of their and conflieting opinions, from which profession;* and experience has shown


us that the clergy of all religions that Christianity defined their civil will prefer the government that sup- conduct ; and have latterly indicated ports them to the interest of their a disposition to be free, when they sect, or even the good of mankind. think it more easy to throw off a

What they wish to perpetuate they burden than to endure it. wish to see reverenced ; and accord. • Circumstances, and not their reliingly we find loyalty inculcated from gion, form their characters; and, the pulpit in the reign of Elizabeth, what the Protestant once was, the as well as in that of her immediate Irish Catholic is now—a republican predecessor. This has always been in his heart. Inquire the reason, and the case, and applies as much to the you will find it to have originated in Protestant as to the Catholic teacher.' precisely the same cause-oppression.

• But is it fair,' I asked, “to infer But, behold the reverse ! How has from the conduct of a priesthood paid the mighty fallen! The high-minded by the state the principles of the Protestant has degenerated into an religion?'

instrument of tyranny; and is now • If unjust,' replied Malachy, when degraded into an obsequious tool of applied to Protestantism, it certainly power, not less a slave than the Cathocannot be just when applied to Catho- fic he endeavours to fetter.' licism. If the Protestant be not We were now within sight of my judged by the conduct of his clergy, uncle's house, which we quickly enneither is the Catholic: if the one be tered. A description of this Irish liberal, in spite of the intolerance of castle, and its inmates, in my next. his teacher, why not the other ? The

GODFREY K-N. truth is, mankind have never thought


How dull, how revolting, appear with the South of Ireland ; and, though the legends and traditions of the the little duodecimo before us makes northern nations, when compared no pretensions to talents or learning, with those of Ireland ! Humanity we are satisfied it will become inshudders and the heart sickens at the finitely more popular than the author's one, while nothing but risibility or embellished quarto. Not that we pleasure is produced by the other. think the work is as entertaining and Let Ledwich and others cavil at the useful as it might have been made, but ancient records of Erin—let her his- because it furnishes proofs of a kindly tory perish, and her monuments feeling, of a humane and generous moulder into dust-still indubitable disposition, of some industry, and proofs of the oriental descent of her much humour. Mr. Croker exhichildren will remain in their fairy bics the poorer classes of his countrytales and traditions. Their supersti. men—not as they are usually exhibittious notions bespeak them of a family ed, in disgusting colours—but in different from the rest of Europe; forms the most laughable and pleaswhile the fervid imagery, wild and ing: in such as they are usually seen extravagant fancy, as well as the moral by those who know iheir eccentric and of all their legends, declare that they singular manners. Like our author, must have been warıned into birth in we have rambled through the souththose regions which have given us the ern districts ; and, though we have * Arabian Nights' Entertainments.' never encountered so extraordinary a Indeed many of those in the volume Munchausen as Daniel O'Rourke, before us are evidently but different with his eagle, his moon with a reapversions of some of these tales, which ing-hook stuck in it, and his flying charm us in youth, and amuse us in gander; yet we have sat for hours age.

listening to the ' tales of other times ;' To Mr. Crofton Croker we are and, though these were at once absurd already indebted for rather an ambi- and amusing, we have never thought tious volume on subjects connected that it made those who believed" in

* Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland.

Murray, London. 1825.

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them less happy or less useful, though no child grown up big enough to help him Mr. Croker seems to insinuate the in his work ; and all the poor woman could contrary.

do was to mind the children, and to milk It would be too much to expect

the one cow, and to boil the potatoes, that all the superstitious tales of the and carry the eggs to market to Mallow;

but, with all they could do, 'twas hard Irish peasantry could be related in a single voluine : Mr. Croker has there they did manage it for a good while ; but

enough on them to pay the rent. Well, fore only made a selection; nor has

at last came a bad year, and the little he uniformly selected the best. Many grain of oats was all spoiled, and the of the legends and traditions are very chickens died of the pip, and the pig got deficient in interest; and many more the measles--she was sold in Mallow, and are wanting in those circumstances brought almost nothing; and poor Mick with which they have been usually found that he hadn't enough to half pay connected by the people themselves. his rent, and two gales were due. Our own esteemed contributor, in his •Whiy, then, Molly,' says he, what'll

Benshee,' and 'Fairyman of Croonaan,' evinces a more intimate ac

Wisha, then, mavournene, what would quaintance with his subject; and, you do but take the cow to the fair of

Cork and sell her ?' says shc ; 'and Monthough it has been whispered about

day is fair day, and so you must go tnthat the former article was from Mr.

morrow, that the poor beast may be rested Croker's pen, we can assure our read

again the fair.' ers that the report is false : we did not "And what'll we do when she's gone?' hear of his intended publication until says

Mick, sorrowfully. after the appearance of the · Benshee' Never a know I know, Mick ; but sure in our first Number; we cannot, there- God won't leave us without him, Mick; fore, be accused of intentionally anti- and you know how good he was to us when cipating the work before us.

poor little Billy was sick, and we had noMr. Croker has given most of his thing at all for him to take, that good legends and traditions in the words of doctor gentleman at Ballydahin come those from ose lips he first heard riding and asking for a drink of milk; and

how he gave us two shillings; and how he them; and all who wish to know what kind of language the Irish peasant child, and gave me my breakfast when I

sent the things and the bottles for the talks in should read this very enter- went over 10 ask a question, so he did; taining volume. We have before said and how he came to see Billy, and never that inost of our Irish novelists have left off his goodness till he was quite caricatured the dialect and manners of well.' the people, and few of them more *Oh! you are always that way, Molly, than Miss Edgeworth. But in future and I believe you are right after all, so I this will not be permitted; for Mr. won't be sorry for selling the cow; but. Croker has set an example that de- I'll go to-morrow, and you must put a serves to be followed. In reading his needle and thread through my coat, for book we imagined ourselves listening you know 'tis ripped under the

arm. to Paddy himself; and we must con- thing right; and about twelve o'clock next

Molly told him he should have every fess his is the only work that ever im- day he left her, getting a charge not to pressed us with such an idea before selí his cow except for the highest penny.

, hill, one of the best in the book, will way along the road. He drove his cow serve to illustrate our remarks: - slowly through the little stream which

crosses it, and runs under the old walls It was in the good days wlien the little of Mourne : as he passed be glanced his people, most impudenily called fairies, eye upon the towers and one of the old were more frequently seen than they are elder irees, which were only then little in these unbelieving times, that a farmer, bits of switches. named Mick Purcell, rented a few acres • Oh, then, if I only had half the money of barren ground in the neighbourhood of that's buried in you, tisn't driving this the once celebrated preceptory of Mourne, poor cow I'd be now. Why, then, isn't it situated about three miles from Mallow, too bad that it should be there covered and thirteen from “ the beautiful city over with earth, and many a one besides called Cork.” Mick had a wife and fa. me wanting it? Well, if it's God's will, mily: they all did what they could, and I'll have some money myself coming that was but little, for the poor man had back.'

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So saying, he moved on after his beast; · Laugh if you will,' said the little man, 'twas a fine day, and the sun shone • but I tell you this bottle is better for brightly on the walls of the old abbey as you than all the money you will get for he passed under them; he then crossed an che cow in Cork-ay, than ten thousand extensive mountain tract, and after six times as much.' long miles he came to the top of that hill Mick laughed again. Why, then,' Bottle-hill’tis called now, but that was says be,' do you think I am such a fool as not the name of it then, and just there a to give my good cow for a bottle--and an man overtook him. • Good morrow,' says empty one, too ? indeed, then, I won't.' he. •Good morrow, kindly,' says Mick, You had better give me the cow, and looking at the stranger, who was a little take the bottle--you'll not be sorry for man, you'd alinust call him a dwart, only it.' he was’nt quite so little neither : he had a • Why, then, and what would Molly bit of an old, wrinkled, yellow face, for say? I'd never hear the end of it; and all the world like a dried cauliflower, odiy bouw would I pay the rent? and what would he had a sharp little nose, and red eyes,

we all do without a penny of money ?' and white hair, and bis lips were not red, "I tell you this bottle is better to yon but all his face was one colour, and his than monos ; take it, and give me the cow. eyes never were quiet, but looking at I ask you for the last time, Mick Purcell.' every thing, and although they were red, Mick started. they made Mick feel quite cold wben he • How does he know my name ? thought looked at them. In truth he did not much he. like the little man's company, and he The stranger proceeded : “ Mick Purcouldn't see oue bit of his legs nor his cell, I know you, and I have a regard for budy, for though the day was warm, he you ; therefore do as I warn you, or you was all wrapped up in a big great coat, may be sorry for it. How do you know Mick drove his cow something faster, but but your cow will die before you go to the litle man kept up with hiin. Mick Çork?' didn't know how he walked, for he was Mick was going to say. God forbid !' almost afraid to look at bim, and to cross but the little map went on (and he was too himself, for fear the old man would be attentive to say any thing to stop hiin; for angry. Yet he thought his fellow-travel- Mick was a very civil man, and he knew ler did not seem to walk like other men, better than to interrupt a gentleman, and nur to put one foot before the other, but that's what many people, that hold their do glide over the rough road, and rough leads higher, don't mind now). enough it was, like a shadow, without * Aud how do you know but there will noise and without effort. Mick's heart be inuch caule at the fair, and you will trembled within him, and he said a prayer get a bad price, or may be you might be to himself, wishing he hadn't come out robbed when you are coming home? but that day, or that he was on Fair-hill, or what need I talk more to you, when you that he hadn't the cow to mind, that he are determined to throw away your luck, might run away from the bad thing- Mick Purcell ?' when, in the midst of bis fears, he was

Oh! no, I would not throw away my again addressed by his companion.

luck, sir,' said Mick; and if I was sure Where are you going with the cow,

the bottle was as good as you say, though honest man?'

I never liked an empty bottle, although I * To the fair of Cork then,' says Mick, had drank the contents of it, I'd give you trembling at the shrill and piercing tones the cow in the name of the voice.

• Never mind names,' said the stranger, Are you going to sell her ?' said the but give me the cow ; I would not tell stranger.

you a lie. Here, take the bottle, and Why, then, what else am I going for when you go home do what I direct exbut to sell her?'

actly.' Will you sell her to me?'

Mick liesitated. Mick started he was afraid to have "Well, then, yood-by, I can stay no any thing to do with the little man, and longer : once more, take it, and be rich; he was more afraid to say no.

refuse it, and beg for your life, and see • What'll you give for her?' at last says your children in poverty, and your wife he.

dying for want--that will happen to you, • I'll tell you what, I'll give you this Mick Purcell!' said the little man with a bottle,' said the little one, pulling a bottle malicious grin, which made him look ten from under his coat.

times more ugly than ever. Mick looked at him and the bottle, and, May be 'tis true,' said Mick, still hein spite of his terror, he could not help sitating : he did not know what to do-he bursting into a loud fit of laughter. scould hardly help believing the old man,

VOL. I.-No. 2.



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and at length, in a ft of desperation, he fool ; and what'll we do for the rent? and seized the bottle-Take the cow,' said wbathe, and if you are telling a lie, the curse "Now, Molly,' says Mick, 'can't you of the poor will be on you.'

hearken to reason ? Didn't I tell you how • I care neither for your curses nor your the old man, or whatsoever he was, met blessings, but I have spoken truth, Mick me-no, he did not meet me neither, but Purcell, and that you will find to-night, if he was there with me on the big bill, and you do what I tell.'

how he made me sell him the and . And what's that?' says Mick.

told me the bottle was the only thing for When you go home, never mind if your me?' wife is angry, but bé quiet yourself, and • Yes, indeed, the only thing for you, make her sweep the room clean, set the you fool !' said Molly, seizing the bottle table out right, and spread a clean cloth to hurl it at her pour husband's head; but over it; then put the bottle on the ground, Mick caught it, and quietly (for he minded saying these words, · Bottle, do your the old man's advice) loosened his wife's duty,' and you will see the end of it. grasp, and placed the bottle again in his • And is this all ?' says Mick.

bosom. Poor Molly sat down crying, while "No more,' said the stranger. • Good. Mick told her his story, with many a crossing by, Mick Purcell-you are a rich man.' and blessing between him and harm. His

•God grant it !' said Mick, as the old wife could not help believing him, particuman moved after the cow, and Mick re- larly as she bad as much faith in fairies as traced the road towards his cabin; but he she had in the priest, who indeed never could not help turning back his head to look discouraged her belief in the fairies; may after the purchaser of his cow, who was no- be he didn't know she believed in them, where to be seen.

and may be he believed them himself. • Lord between us and barm!' said She got up, however, without saying one Mick: "He can't belong to this earth; word, and began to sweep the earthen but where is the cow?' She too was gone, floor with a bunch of heath : then she and Mick went homeward muttering tidied up every thing, and put out the prayers, and holding fast the bottle. long table, and spread the clean cloth, for

• And what would I do if it broke?' she had only one, upon it, and Mick, thought he. “Oh! but I'll take care of placing the bottle on the ground, looked at that; so be put it into his bosom, and it and said, ' Bottle, do your duty.' went on anxious to prove his bottle, and • Look there ! look there, mammy !' said doubting of the reception he should meet his chubby eldest son, a boy about five from his wife; balancing his anxieties with years old look there ! look there !' and his expectation, his fears with his hopes, he sprung to his mother's side, as two tiny he reached home in the evening, and sur- little fellows rose like light from the bottle, prised his wife, sitting over the turf fire in and in an instant covered the table with the big chimney.

dishes and plates of gold and silver, full Oh! Mick, are you come back ? Sure of the finest victuals that ever were seen, you weren't at Cork all the way! What and when all was done went into the bottle has happened to you? Where is the cow ? again. Mick and his wife looked at every Did you sell her? How much money did thing with astonishment; they had never you get for her? What news have you? seen such plates and dishes before, and Tell us everything about it.'

didn't think they could ever admire them Why, then, Molly, if you'll give me enough, the very sight almost took away time, I'll tell you all about it. If you their appetites; but at length Molly said, want to know where the cow is, 'tisn't • Come and sit down, Mick, and try and Mick can tell you, for the never a know eat a bit: sure you ought to be hungry does he know where she is now.'

after such a good day's work.' Oh! then, you sold her; and where's • Why, then, the man told no lie about the money?'

the bottle.' Arrah! stop awhile, Molly, and I'll Mick sat down after putting the children tell you all about it.'

to the table, and they made a hearty meal, • But what bottle is that under your though they couldn't taste half the dishes. waistcoat?' said Molly, spying its neck “Now,' says Molly, I wonder will sticking out.

those iwo good little gentlemen carry away Why, then, be easy now, can't you, these fine things again? They waited, says Mick, 'till I tell it to you ? and but no one came; so Molly put up the putting the bottle on the table, • That's dishes and plates very carefully, saying, all I got for the cow.'

• Why then, Mick, that was no lie sure His poor wise was thunderstruck. • All enough : but you'll be a rich man yet, you got! and what good is thal, Mick? Mick Purcell.Oh! I never thought you were such a Mick and his wife and children went to

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