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their bed, ont to sleep, but to settle about wants a name-Bottle-hill.-Good-by, selling the fine things they did not want, sir, good-by:' so Mick walked back as and 10 take more land. Mick went to fast as he could, never looking after the Cork and sold his plate, and bought a white-faced little gentleman and the cow, horse and cart, and began to show that he 80 anxious was he to bring home the bottle. was making money, and they did all they –Well, he arrived with it safely enough, could to keep the bottle a secret ; but for and called out as soon as he saw Mollyall that their landlord found it out, for he Oh! sure I've another bottle! came to Mick one day and asked him Arrah! then, have you ? why, then, where he got all his money-sure it was you're a lucky man, Mick Purcell, that's not by the farm; and he bothered bim so what you are. much, that at last Mick told him of the In an instant she put every thing right; bottle. His landlord offered bim a deal of and Mick, looking at his bottle, exultingly money for it, but Mick would not give it, cried out, · Bottle, do your duty.' In a till at last he offered to give him all his twinkling, two great stout men with big farm for ever : so Mick, who was very cudgels issued from the bottle (I do not rich, thought he'd never want any more know how they got room in ii), and be. money, and gave him the bottle : but laboured poor Mick and his wife and all Mick was mistaken - he and his family his family, till they lay on the floor, when spent money as if there was no end of it; in they went again. Mick, as soon as he and to make the story short, they became recovered, got up and looked about him ; poorer and poorer, till at last they had no he thought and thought, and at last be thing left but one cow; and Mick once took up his wife and his children; and, more drove his cow before him to sell her leaving them to recover as well as they at Cork fair, hoping to meet the old man could, he took the bottle under his coat and get another bottle. It was hardly and went to his landlord, who had a great daybreak when he left livme, and he walk. company : he got a servant to tell him he ed on at a good pace till he reached the wanted to speak to him, and at last he big hill : the mists were sleeping in the came out to Mick. valleys, and curling like smoke-wreaths Well, what do you want now? upon the brown heath arouud liim. The Nothing, sir, only I have another sun rosc on his left, and just at bis feet a bottle.' lark sprang from its grassy couch and Oll! ho! is it as good as the first?' poured forth its joyous matin song, ascend- 'Yes, sir, and better; if you like, I will ing into the clear blue sky,

show it to you before all the ladies and • Till its form like a speck in the airiness gentlemen. blending,

• Come along, then.' So saying, Mick And thrilling with music, was melting in was brought into the great ball, where he light.'

saw his old bottle standing high up on a Mick crossed himself, listening as he shelf: 'Ah! ha!' says lie to himseli, 'may advanced to the sweet song of the lark, be I won't bave you by-and-by,' but thinking, notwithstanding, all the time Now,' says his landlord, 'show us your of the little old man ; when, just as he bottle. Mick set it on the floor, and ut. reached the summit of the hill, and cast tered the words: in a moment the landhis eyes over the extensive prospect before lord was tumbled on the foor; ladies and and around him, he was startled and re. gentlemen, servants and all, were running, joiced by the same well-known voice: and roaring, and sprawling, and kicking, and • Well, Mick Purcell, I told you you shrieking. Wine cups and salvers were would be a rich man.

knocked about in every direction, until the • Indeed, then, sure enough I was, that's landlord called out 'Stop those two devils, no lie for you, sir. Good morning to you, Mick Purcell, or I'll have you hanged.' but it is not rich I am now-but have you . They never shall stop,' said Mick, another bottle ? for I want it now as much till I get my own bottle that I see up as I did long ago; so if you have it, sir, there at top of that shelf.' liere is the cow for it.

Give it down to him, give it down to And here is the bottle,' said the old him, before we are all killed !' says the man, smiling ; ' you know what to do with landlord. it.'

Mick put his bottle in his bosom : in Oh! then, sure I do, as good right I jumped the two men into the new bottle, havc.'

and he carried them home. I need not • Well, farewell for ever, Mick Purcell : lengthen my story by telling how he got I told you you would be a rich man? richer than ever, bow his son married his

"And good-by to you, sir,' said Mick, laudlord's only daughter, how he and his as he turned back; and good luck to wife died when they were very old, and you, and good luck to the big hillit how some of the servants, fighting at those

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waky, broke the bottles; but still the hill has the name upon it; ay, and so 'twill be always Bottle-hill to the end of the world; and so it ought, for it is a strange story!

In taking leave of Mr. Croker we are not without hopes of soon meeting him again ; for we are fully persuaded that he possesses talents which should not be permitted to remain unemployed. The following verses, translated from a popular keen, possess considerable mcrit:Maidens, sing no more in gladness

To your merry spinning-wheels; Join the keener's voice of sadness

Feel for what a niother feels!

See the space within niy dwelling.

"Tis the cold, blank space of death;
'Twas the Banshee's voice came swelling

Slowly o’or the midnight heath.
Keeners, let your song not falter

He was as the hawthorn fair.-
Lowly at the virgin's altar

Will his mother kneel in prayer.
Prayer is good to calm the spirit,

When the keen is sweetly sung.--
Death though mortal flesh inherit,

Why should age lament the young ? -
'Twas the Banshee's lonely wailing: -

Well I knew the voice of Death
On the night-wind slowly sailing

O'er the bleak and gloomy heath.

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THE VETERAN LEGIONEER.NO. I.

No. —, Rue de la Seine, St. Patrick's Day, 1825. MR. EDITOR, -AFTER a life of vicis. affections of the heart flourished with situdes, perils, and fatigues, more (as I a vigour and verdure which seemed to think, and as I hope to make appear to proipise immortality. It brings in reyou) than fall to the lot of men in gene- view to every person of reflection ral, what is left to an old fellow but to (and who is so happy or so stupid as talk about thescenes he has acted in and not to reflect sometimes ?) the events the adventures he has experienced ? of his life, and forms a resting-place How can he better employ the leisure whence the past may be contemplated, which he enjoys, and which is the re- and the future may be speculated sult and the recompense of his past upon. I have even known men, whose labour and suffering, than in attempt- hearts had grown so cold and callous ing to make others wise by example, in their intercourse with the world (the next best instructor to experi- that all the generous impulses seemed ence, and a far more gentle one,) and to have fled them for ever, who at to amuse those who are always ready the return of this day would melt into to sympathize with-though, happily something like tenderness, and yield for themselves, they can never encoun- to impressions of kindliness and good ter-such rude chances ?

will almost as miraculously as the What time can be more auspicious staff of St. Joseph of Arimathea, which for the commencement of such an on one sacred eve in each year puts undertaking than this day, the anni- forth blossoms. But what have we versary of a festival so dear to every to do with such hearts ? Neither you, Irish heart? It is not, I fear, from any my good Editor, as I know-nor I, as too great veneration for our holy I lope-have any feelings in common patron (good Catholic as I venture with those people : in the first place, to say I am) that I hail the return of because it is impossible to love them; this day with emotions which crowd and, in the next, because they will not upon my heart with all the freslmess buy the · Dublin and London Magaand force of my earliest youth; but zine.' Such people never buy any thing. it is because it acts like a spell upon But for those who hold a higher place my feelings, and wakes recollections in our affections I have thought that which neither the bustle of a military I could not spend this morning in any life, (an especial weakener of memory better way than by beginning asketchand sentiment,) nor the lapse of time, which I sball continue with your good (which destroys every thing besides,) leave, and as circumstances may dihave been able to erase, or even to rect me of the life of an old frish chill. The return of St. Patrick's day soldier, who, driven by his hard reminds one of those earlier times— fate, or what you will, from his own happy because we then feared, as country, has spent the greatest part little as we knew, what the black fu- of his life in the service of France. ture was to contain, and when the I propose to call it the "Veteran

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Legioneer.'. What do you think of the tropolis, to complete the education title? I have some doubts whether which was to enable me to fulfil that legioneer is good English: but what office in the church to which I was matters it? If Irishmen in general destined. My companions were the have a special exemption from the two Sheridans, lads of my own age; rigour of the ordinary rules in this re- and Michael Conolly, a year older, spect, surely an Irishman who has who was sent out a sort of joint-stock lived so long in France, and in other venture by his relations, who had foreign countries, as I have done, may united their slender contribution, to be fully excused for any little irregu- give poor Mick such an education as larity, particularly when (as, to do his birth entitled him to. Conollv them justice, is the case in all Irish was as much a nobleman in feeling blunders) the real meaning is not less and spirit as if he held the barony obvious than the mistake. Lest any which his forefathers enjoyed, and man should doubt, or, what is more which tyranny and treachery had delikely, cavil at the import of my title, prived them of; but he was as poor I wish the whole world to take notice in the article of money as the veriest that I am, at this present writing, a beggar that ever crawled. To the Captain (demisolde, by the same token) hour of his death, which happened in in the Irish Legion of the French army. a very busy day by my side, he could Could any master of the ceremonies never keep a Louis in his poeket; but in all Europe introduce me more gen- he preserved the family pride with as teelly? I am at this moment living- much scrupulous and unbending per(here's an opportunity for raising my- tinacity as if he had been the acknowself in the estimation of my readers ! ledged, as he was the real, representaI may as well say La Chaussée d'Au- tive of the illustrious family to which tin, and a la première, but no; the he belonged. It would be tedious to plain truth and old Ireland for ever!) describe to you the course of a journey -I am living in the Rue de la Scine, that had nothing remarkable in it, exand-a la troisième. My reasons for cepting that Ned Sheridan, brat as preferring a third floor to å first are, he was, beat three fellows who laughed that the former is much better suited at the immense shamrock he wore in to the state of my finances than the his Athlone felt. To be sure it was latter. Now the murder is out, I am nearly as big as the hat; and the man much more comfortable; and your who asked him if he wanted to sell his readers, my good Editor, have it at family estate, since he carried a samtheir own choice whether they will ple of the produce in his hat, was not any longer endure the society of so altogether unreasonable. He was a poor (I was going to write humble, butler, or some sort of upper servant, but, as Manfred says, “that I never to an English nobleman; and sure no was') a person as the Veteran Le- gentleman's servant ever got more gioneer. I have got so far in telling particularly drubbed than he by Ned you who I am; but this, although very Sheridan. Neil contracted a great necessary to the understanding my friendship, in consequence of this, witla future communications, is not the only a tall man who was on board the packet, nor the main object of my present and had previously been standing in labours: they are intended chiefly the steerage among some soldiers and to let you know who I was and who their wives, who were passengers. I have been. Allons donc !

He had, as I suspected then, and knew We will begin, if you please, with afterwards, been endeavouring to avoid St. Patrick's day eight-and-thirty the observation of the other persons years ago. I was then a small on board ; but the noise which was boy, whom my friends had, I dare occasioned by Ned's disciplining the say, for very good reasons, deter- butler drew him out. Seeing that we mined to send to the Irish College were four simple lads, and very likely in Paris. On a day as fine as this to get into scrapes, he took great care I was embarked, with three other of us. He told us that he was going striplings, on board the Mary, Cap. to Paris, and actually accompanied us tain Grumly, bound for Parkgate, thither'; but it was not until our jourthence to proceed to the French me- ney was completed that we learnt

our friend and protector was the gale consequences which would bave been lant unfortunate Blackwell. I must lamented by all of us. The venerable tell you his story at some other op- Abbé Kearney was the rector of the portunity : it is too long and too sad college. It is impossible for me to for this occasion. Poor Blackwell ! do justice to the Christian charity, the I am not much used to the melting benevolence, the almost romantic love mood,' and never in the whole course of his country and his countrymen, of my life, man or boy, wept as many which distinguished this good man-it tears as would half-fill a wine-glass; is not necessary for me even to make but the last I shed was over Black- the attempt, for, wherever his name is well's grave. Near the wall at the top known, his virtue can never be forgotof that most beautiful of all cemete- ten. The good old man had cautioned ries, the burying-ground of Père la us, when he granted us permission to Chaise, the turf grows over the corpse hold this festival, against any excesses; which enclosed as gallant a heart as he reminded us that, from the state of ever beat to the impulses of honour the times, any little caprices (and he and virtue !--But I am digressing knew that nothing was more likely again. I have no other excuse to with his pupils than such caprices) make for this bad practice than that would be severely and jealously rethe habits of a voltigeur, as I am, are garded. His cautions were almost always excursive; and I can assure interrupted by the assurances of the your readers, too, that they may as most distinguished of our lads' that well let me have my own way, for å nothing should occur which the disworse hand at a regular narration than affected could take uinbrage at. The I am can't be found in all Ireland, nor promise was made in perfect sincerity: France at the back of it.

how it was kept you shall bear. I was soon settled in the Irish Col- A little café in the place St. lege, and passed my time tolerably Michel, the owner of which was for a while. St. Patrick's day was a well known to us, had been selectgreat festival with us ; and I think I ed for the scene of the festivity. inay venture to say that, with what. Determined upon doing honour to ever display and magnificence it inight the day, we deputed Silverthorne (an be celebrated elsewhere, it was in no English lad) to order dinner. He was place kept up with greater hilarity an excellent fellow-rather too fond and real Irish feeling than in L'Ecole of fish, but otherwise an approved Irlandois. At home you enjoy gourmand : we limited him, therefore, these things, but to taste them in all to two species of his favourite foodtheir force, to taste the full transports oysters and herrings. Silverthorne with which they delight the heart, you made a grand struggle for certain should feel that, besides the ordinary whitings; but O'Dwyer was inexorasensations which belong to this day, ble, and whatever O'Dwyer said was it brings together the few who, in a law. The only concession he would foreign land, cherish the recollections allow to Silverthorne was the addiof home, whose hearts beat with the tion of lemons to our oysters. I could enthusiastic throßs of patriotism, and tell you what the other dishes were, of all those nearer and not less intense but I don't think you would care to domestic affections; while a sympathe- know them :-enough that the dinner tic, influence seems to 'annihilate both took place, and that we were as huntime and space,' and to bring together gry as we ought to have been. The friends whom seas and inountains se- wine was good, and we drank it like parate.

Irishmen. I say this particularly, and In the year 1790 the Irish students without enlarging upon it, because in Paris had resolved to celebrate the every body knows, or ought to know, anniversary of their tutelary saint in the exact difference between the proa becoming manner; hut their fes- portions in which Irisbmen and Frenchtival ending in the usual way with men drink.* But even Burgundy is a desperate row--had nearly produced cold to an Irishman's stomach in the

• I was very much amused at a scene which I saw lately in the neighbourhood of Paris. A young Irishman, who had strolled out for a walk, entered a café beyond The Barrière de l'Etoile : perhaps he was led thither by the knowledge that wine

month of March. You may dilute' were at almost open war. The Catho-
(as my poor friend Macguire used to lic religion-education--scholastic en-
say) with brandy; but it is still not po- dowments and professors—were even
tent enough to drown the memory of then menaced by the Republicans :
the potheen, which, like the spirit of hence strong hatred was imbibed by
another world, hovers about the table. the Irish‘lads' for the Revolutionaires.
Plunkitt and Mac Mahon thought they But there were other causes of dislike:
could make punch with the eau de many of the Irish still cherished, in
vie, and it was agreed that they should 'spite of disappointment and oppres-
try. A punch-bowl, properly so call- sion, aristocratic recollections of the
ed, could not be had for love nor O's and the Macs from whom they
money: but a large white basin used were descended : they, moreover, re-
for washing vegetables was substituted; membered having been obliged to
and Plunkitt, first pouring into it a forego a hurling match in the Champ
phial of water from Tubberorum, de Mars on the St. Stephen's day
which he had preserved with as much preceding, by command of some or
veneration as if it had received the other of the authorities, in order to
benediction of his Holiness himself, make way for a review of the armed
set about his task, and succeeded in it citizens; and (shall I confess?) they
eminently with Mac Mahon's assist- felt themselves strong in their charac-
ance. The glass circulcated, the usual ter of British subjects, well knowing
toasts were drunk, songs were sung, that, however deadly was the hatred
and all was happiness and hilarity, felt for England by the French, the
when one of those incidents happened latter knew that a quarrel with the
which the devil invents, and lays in former ought to be avoided as long as
the way of a half-drunk Irishman, possible.
that he may tumble over it. Among All these feelings came in their full
the lads was Moriarty, a Tralee man: bitterness across Moriarty as he saw
he was afterwards an Aide-du-Camp the miserable rascals who called them-
of Buonaparte's. He left the room; selves officers; and the most profound
and, as he passed through the adjoin- contempt was added to them when he
ing salle à manger, he saw six officers perceived the materiel of their supper.
of the Garde Nationale sitting at a It consisted of nothing more costly or
table to supper. Moriarty hated them, friand than a couple of brown loaves,
one and all: he was no great friend to each as long as a carbine, and a small
the reigning dynasty, but he could dish of spinach. Moriarty's look, as
not endure the thoughts of seeing his eye turned from the supper to the
such rascals as he knew the men be- starvelings who were doomed to eat it,
fore him to be in offices of importance. was sufficiently offensive ; and it was
They were most of them inhabitants impossible for the Jacobins to mistake
of the Pays Latin, who then were, it its meaning. The captain of the party
will be remembered, among the fierc- knew him very well-he was a barber
est Jacobins of Paris. With the true who had the honour of reducing the
levelling spirit of the day, the Na- luxuriant growth of the locks of the
tional Guard of that quarter chose for Irish students. “Is that all you are
their officers some of the greatest to have for supper, Morin?' asked
ruffians and the lowest of the canaille, Moriarty of the barber. Laissez nous,
with which that classic neighbourhood citoyen,' said Captain Morin, keeping
abounded, and still abounds. With up his dignity as well as he could, and
these Sans Culottes the Irish stucents looking very important. •You had
was cheaper beyond the barrier. A party of four Frenchmen, all stout whiskered
fellows, entered nearly at the same moment with him. They called for a bottle of
wine, which having finished, they continued to chat without intending to drink any
more. My countryman secmed to be scandalized at this; and, when he saw the four
tall fellows pay for their wine and walk away, he struck his hand on the table with
great indignation, calling the waiter at the same time.

How much wine did you take to those gentlemen?'
• One bottle, sir,' replied the waiter.
• One bottle for four?'- Yes, sir.'

Then bring me four bottles for one !-that's myself.' His bidding was obeyed to the letter: he emptied his four bottles, and walked away as cool as buttermilk.

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