sand pounds, without being even An exposure of their vile practices, however, now took place. Howard, the philanthropist, visited Ireland, and soon after published an account of what he saw in the Protestant Charter Schools. Three years after- Nor did the cause of the Irish wards he made another journey, Chartered Schools, or, more corand succeeded in drawing the at-rectly speaking, of their managers, tention of parliament to the subject. suffer by a transfer of legislative A committee made their Report, authority, which, upon this side of and detailed precisely the same dis- the channel, at least, is pretty gegusting and revolting practices nerally supposed to have had rather which the present commissioners a sinister effect upon every thing of education found to prevail in else that is Irish. The very first 1824. The Report,* in 1787, con- grant of the Imperial parliament victed the Charter School society, was for 18,2137. 4s. 7d. British, and their inferior agents, of false and in ten years it was more than returns to parliament, neglect of double that sum, amounting in duty, and profligate abuse of the 1811 to 39,7871. From 1812 to public money. The indulgent le- 1816 it was 41,5391. per annum; gislature, however, could not be but, without entering into farther severe on Protestants who lived by particulars, it will be sufficient for jobs; and accordingly the very my present purpose to observe, that same year, granted twelve thousand the whole amount of the annual pounds to the society, which con- parliamentary grants to the society, tinued annually, until 1794, when from the Union to the year 1817, it was increased to thirteen thouwas 512,043/. 7s. 2d. British, or 554,713/. 12s. 9d. Irish currency. Add to this 347,500l. British, or 375,4571. 6s. 8d. Irish, and we have a total of 859,5431. 7s. 2d. British, or 930,1701. 19s. 5d. Irish currency, granted by parliament in the course of seventy years to a society, which, during that period, was in the regular receipt of an in. dependent income, averaging little, if any, less than from eight to ten thousand pounds per annum. A sum of nearly a million remains therefore to be accounted for. Let the society then tell the public, The following extract from the late Report will give the reader some idea of the state of these schools at this period. The last sentence is not unworthy of particular observation. In addition to several other witnesses, the committee examined Sir Jeremiah Fitzpatrick, inspector general of prisons, who, in the years 1786 and 1787, had visited twenty-eight Charter Schools. He stated, that the barbarous treatment which he had witnessed of some children in the school at Kilkenny was one of his first and principal inducements to persevere in the inspection of the other Charter Schools; that he found the children in them puny, and not in that state of health in which children generally are; they were in general filthy and ill clothed. He had seen them without shifts or shirts, and in such a situation as it was indecent to look on; the diet was insufficient for the support of their delicate frames; their instruction was very much neglected; in general the children had the itch and other eruptive disorders. At Castle-Carbery there was no appearance of a school-room; part of a window was stuffed with a turf-kish and dung, and there were but twenty-four ragged shirts and shifts, though there were eighteen girls and fourteen boys in the school, most of them sickly wretched looking creatures, covered with the itch; two only could read, and all order appeared to have been neglected; but the master's and mistress's apartments were comfortable and well furnished, as likewise the parlour, which served for a committee room.' whose stewards for seventy year they have been, what they have done with this money. It now stands charged against them, in the face of day, that, if they have half. fed, half-clothed, and half-educated twenty-thousand miserable children, at this vast expense, it is the utmost they have done and of these, upon their own showing, only nine hundred and forty-two have received the marriage portion paid upon the union of any of their scholars with a Protestant, whilst I cannot find in their printed ac counts the slightest trace of even a solitary individual having been paid the reward for good behaviour dur. ing apprenticeship, for which so ample a provision has been made by some of the liberal benefactors of this proselyting and ill-conducted institution. Such are the mighty deeds it has performed in the moral renovation of Ireland! From the statement of the commissioners, it appears that more than one-half of those children, who survived their cruel treatment, turned out bad—that is, they either became prostitutes, soldiers, or em. braced Catholicity; consequently, every one of those who turned out well cost the country no less than fourteen hundred pounds each.The unfortunate children who have been brought up in these juvenile Bastiles are to be met through the country wandering beggars, helpless and forlorn: and, if ever human misery deserved commiseration, theirs do. Want of room this week prevents me from detailing the cruel system which existed in these schools; but in my next I shall en. ter upon it, and show the complex chain of interests which defrauded the country, imposed upon the legislature, and oppressed the unfortunate children. Rock. SOME promised articles have been unavoidably postponed. Archbishop Magee, being No. II. of Irish Characters, will cer tainly appear next week. LONDON -J. Robins and Co. Ivy Lane, A Morning's Amusement for a Munster Tithe-proctor. On the 17th of May, 1782, the bill for establishing the independence of the Irish parliament was passed, not, however, without having provoked a discussion which showed that the brand of discord had been already flung among the apparent friends of Ireland. Several members insisted that the repeal of the 6th of George I. was not sufficient; and at the head of this party stood Henry Flood, a man of talents, but of inconsistent conduct. Opposed to him was Grattan, and the majority of both Houses. A more experienced head than mine might have foreseen the consequence of such discussions; but, at the moment, I was so filled with anticipations of national good, that I did not let the subject disturb me. A few weeks after this great No, I'm not,' said a voice I knew right well; I am Sil Murphy of the Hollow, and I'm come for the chieftain's son.' At this the people laughed; and, somewhat mortified at the exhibition, I made my way through the crowd, and poor Sil no sooner saw me than he gave a shrill cry of recognition; and, after springing some dozen times, like an Opera dancer, from the ground, he slipped a letter into my hands. 'Och, monuar! cried the poor gomulagh- where was you that you did'nt come to poor Sil? But sure I've found you, avourneen, at last; and, as the creature betrayed his gladness, the mob laughed anew. There's a pair of them,' said a shoeblack, with all the case of an acknowledged wit. Oh, dat dere is,' replied a butcher's boy, in the Smithfield cant; and, 'pon my soukens, the wiser one is the bigger fool.' 6 Oh, be easy, now, Jimmy,' said another; sure he's a gentle. man, any how, for don't you see he keeps his fool?' Ay, and has given him a pair of pattent boots," said the shocblack; but he's not long in town, for they don't take de pollish, doe de are a shining pair.' Yes, yes, Murtha,' replied the butcher's boy,' dere are more dimonst on his shins dan on the lady lieutenant's neck, any how.' Oh, be de powers,' rejoined the shoeblack, you may sing dat; and warm work he had of it, getting 'em on.' Bare legs are called patent boots. The speckles on the legs, called by sitting too near the fire, are called dia monds. 'Sassanachs!' cried the gomulagh, as I led him away, had I one o' ye in the moor, I'd make you cry wild Irish, ye spalpeens;' and he flourished his stick in defiance. This poor creature was one of those who have just brains enough to qualify them for carrying inessages. Sil always went bareheaded and barefooted, and was one of the most expert pedestrians in Munster. On the present occasion he had travelled from Rock. glen in twenty-four hours, without stopping, and was inquiring for the Coombe, when the black guards of Patrick Street market collected about him. His joy, on seeing me so unexpectedly, was unbounded; and, when we reached my uncle's, it was some time before his satisfaction would permit him to eat any thing. The letter he brought me was from my mother, informing me that Cousins had returned to Dublin, and that my father was dangerously ill. She solicited my speedy return, and I lost no time in complying with her wishes. In half an hour after the receipt of her letter I was on my way to Rockglen, and left the gomulagh to follow me. A little beyond Maryborough I met my foster-brother. From him I learned that my father was much better, and was now considered out of danger. Relieved from my apprehensions, I inquired if there was any news. we self, go to widow M'Cann's, and drive away her muil cow, though she hadn't another beast in the world that could give the children milk for the preaties; and all for a bit of tithe, that she would pay, if left alone to herself? But by the ghor we put a stop to his gallop. We met him as he was goen to the pound with the poor creature, and just axed him wouldn't he be easy. "No, nor the divil a bit," says he. "Then you must," says "But I mustn't," says he; and so one word borrowed an. other, until Paddy Purcell, of the boughereen, cot him, and whipped off his coat; another, his waistcoat; and another, his breeches ; and so prepared him to mount. He fought like a lion; but all wouldn't do. We ketched limping Brien's colt; and, having fixed a soft saddle made of a scough, we made him mount, and away he went, for all the world like a shiderrow on a windy day. Ha! ha! ha! how the people of Bally. ragget did laugh, sure enough, to see him like a ghost flying through the town! Here,' he continued, pulling out a piece of paper, picture of it-(see Engraving at the head of this chapter)-which Tim Houlaughan the painter drew; and it's mortual like, every body says.' 6 Well,' I asked, what become of Molony?' is a Oh, musha, God knows,' he replied. He wasn't hurt, any Musha, no,' replied Owen; how; for he's gone to get war'you had it all to yourself in Dub-rants for us all; but I'd like to see lin, for we've been as dull as small the man who would come take us.' beer since you left us, till ere-lastnight.' What happened then?' The deuce a much; only the boys made young Molony, who has taken up his father's trade, take a little exercise upon your newly-invented saddle.' "Good God!' said I, 'it cannot be possible.' Faith, it's true enough,' returned Owen; and richly he desarv'd it, or "the divil a cottoner in Cork." Musha, didn't he, him Pained as I was by Owen's account of this outrage, I could not much blame him. I had myself set him the example, and he was yet ignorant of the political events which had just taken place. Resolved, however, to put a stop to such proceedings in future, I commenced reading a moral lesson to Owen on the nature of civil allegiance, and the duty all men were under to keep the peace. My labour was thrown away, for my foster.brother did not, or would not, understand me. Oh, by the powers,' said he, all that may be very true, but you see I haven't much larning, and knows nothen about it. One thing I know, however, that cows, far away, have long horns; and, beggen your pardon, Decimus, I'll believe nothen till I can sce. The sassanachs hate us, and all we have; and how can they do any thing that would make us happy? Aren't they ministers, and judges, and great grand fellows? and do you think they would let us be grand fellows too? Oh, be easy, now, and don't be after persuading us that the kite will protect chickens, or mice bees. Troth, the moon isn't made of green cheese, nor sassanachs of Christian flesh and blood.' I found it was useless to contend with his prejudices; and so mounting his horse, and leaving him to walk, I proceeded to Rockglen. I found my father able to sit up in his chair; but, to my great disappointment, he was as incredu. lous as ever respecting the anticipated benefits of national independence. I can't blame you, boy,' said he, since I see older heads similarly affected. A nation free, and five-sixths of her inhabitants in chains! A national parliament, and five-sixths of her people inca pable of voting for a representa, tive! But, never mind, Decimus, come tell us your adventures in Dublin.' ADDRESS TO THE ITCH; BY A SCOTCHMAN RESIDING IN IRELAND. AVAUNT! thou creepin, bloodstained Shame fa' the day wi' sic a frien' I scrap'd acquaintance! To mell (d) wi' you I h've been a coof, (e) But wha against your tricks is proof? (a) Fien', fiend. (c) Min', remember. (d) Mell, meddle. (b) Bien, plentiful. (e) Coof, a blockhead. S You cam" (like him wha hides his hoof) Wi' friendship's mien ; The nettle in your venom'd loof (a) Unkenn'd, (b) unseen. You set your traps in sic (c) a gait, (d) 'Tis unco (e) hard to miss the bait : In petticoats you lie in wait, An' neuks (f) an' niches; Or Stitch-louse sews you in a plait Of a fallow's breeches. First in some cozie neuk you biel, (g) But soon owre leg, and arms you speel; (h) Like that wanrestfu' (i) dog, the deil, You travel wide; An' faith! you dinna spare your heel, When you gae ride. When ance you wi' a wretch forgather, (j) Nae mercy hac you for his leather, Nor, till you get a brunstane (k) tether, Will let him be, But spur for claw, till ane or ither Does bear the gree. (1) As men of their acquaintance blaw (m) Wi' folk wha them sic wadna (n) ca', Sae you, when on the blate (o) you fa', Thou menseless (p) vagrant! You gie a stang (9) that makes them claw, An' then 'tis flagrant. Baith high an' low you creep amang, Your bluidy bonnet, Wi' sic a chap as Castlereagh By Clootie's (s) packet, They're but preparin', An', gin you stick to them, faith! soon You'll get your fairin'. For, when aboon they're crown'd wi' rays, Au' a' their glory round them blazeMaist folk are vain wha get fine claes-(u) As soon's they're drest, They're aff to hell to shaw their faes The faithfu' blest. (a) Loof, the palm of the hand. (b) Unkenn'd, unknown. (c) Sic, such. (d) Gait, way, manner. (e) Unco, very. (f) Neuk, nook, (g) Biel, shelter (h) Speel, climb. i) Wanrestfu', restless. (j) Forgather, co meet. (k) Brunstane, brimstone.1) Bear the gree, to be decidedly victor. m) Blaw, to boast. (n) Wadna, would not. o) Blate, bashful. (p) Menseless, illred, rude. (9) Stang, sting. (r) Laith, oath. (s) Clootie, the devil. (t) Aboon, bove. (u) Claes, clothes, | The reek, (a) the lowe, (b) a' Clootie's gear, (c) Canna their saintships sturt (d) or steer, (e) But, ance the brunstane you come near, You're done wi' nettlin', The vera smell o't-dinna fear You'll get a settlin. Nae fiddlin' then—each chiel (ƒ) o' grace Of sharps no longer kens (g) the place, Tho' ance each dulcet note to trace He was fu' able, Nae mair sae sweet he'll touch the bass Upon his gable. Sae if you'll tak' a friendly lesson, You'll watch the niest time they're caressin', Some night (before the flesh they dress in Its suit o' timmer,) (h) Perhaps they'd gie you, wi' their blessin', To some frail kimmer. (i) This you may'nt think a trusty anchor, Because the godly dinna hanker, But ane may meet a coaxin' swanker, (j) An' flesh is frail. 'It is but ance,' he'll say, an' plank herThen cock your tail. An', when you've chang'd your holy haunt, I've gat a frien' sae high a saunt, In a' the core (k) nane (not to vaunt) Hae sic control; An' she will get me, when I want, Upon the roll. But then the light hae spread sae wide, Since Bible-folk its blaze descried, Unless you get some frien' to hide Ilk holy beuk, (1) Faith! soon you'll want, in which to bide, A single neuk. Sae fare you wcel-I gie you rede, (m) Gae rouse your clans ayont (n) the Tweed, Tell them that you are like to need A hame (o) to nestle; An' ask them if they wadna bleed For Scotland's thistle. POSTSCRIPT. Oh, Scotland! thou hast mickle (p) fame, An' thou art kenn'd by monie a name, The Land o' Cakes, the land-the hameO'lear (q) an' speech; But maist of a' thou layest claim To Land o' the Itch! That bleth'rin (r) blockhead frae Lanark, Wha wants to find the Irish warkJust let him send them, in a sark, (s) A gude Scotch fiddle; Faith! he'll be gleg (1) wha, day or dark, Will catch them idle. (a) Reek, smoke. (b) Lowe, flame. (c) Gear, goods of any kind. (d) Sturt, trouble, annoy. (e) Steer, molest, stir.(f) Chiel, a young fellow. (g) Kens, knows. (h) Timmer, timber.) Kimmer, a girl. (5) Swanker, a strapping young girl. (k) Core, corps. (1) Beuk, book. (m) Rede, counsel, advice. (n) Ayont, beyond. (e) Hame, home. (p) Mickle, great, much. (9) Lear, learning. (7) Bleth'rin, talking idly. ($) Sark, a shirt. (t) Gleg, sharp, ready. These might find Paddy rowth o' warkThe firsk wad stock his hunting park; The last wi' music fill his sark; (Nae croon frae Handel ;) The ither light him in the dark, An' save a candle. But Patt to bugs is unco sweer, (d) An' tales o' bell ay (e) grate his ear, (Ev'n me-it makes me sweat wi' fear, Tho' gude an' a' that,) But th' itch-he'd gae to hell or near, Before he'd claw (f) that. 'Tis bad eneugh to Cloots to snool, (g) An' be his ain tormeting tool Is th' warst ava. (j) IRISH CHARACTERS. BY DENNIS O’KAVANAGH. No. II. ARCHBISHOP MAGEE. WHAT is there in a name?'. Every thing. It supplies, in many instances, the place of birth, virtue, and merit. It covers, like charity, a multitude of sins, and is to its possessor a source of honour, pro. fit, and influence. Were it not for the name of Sir Walter Scott, who would have read St. Ronan's Well?' and, had not Sir Thomas Lethbridge been a member of par liament, who would listen to his speeches ? A name, therefore, however acquired, is of the utmost consequence to individual success, whether the pursuit be avarice or ambition; and, if the eyes of the multitude are to be collected on you-if you wish importance to be attached to what you say, procure, by all means, a name that implies elevation of rank; for, sunk as we are in the trade of moncy-getting, still we would all suspend our employment, and run fifty miles, to (n) Drowth, drought. (b) Trowth, troth. (c) Rowth, plenty. (d) Sweer, averse. () Ay, ever, always. (f) Claw, to scratch. (g) Snool, to submit tamely, to sneak. (h) Shool, shovel. (i) Crunt, a blow on the head. (j) Ava, at all. get a peep at a monarch or a prince, or any other notorious character, and leave even to pass by unheeded. - Shall I illustrate this by an example? Look at Dr. Magee. Had not his Grace the good fortune to be a school-fellow of William Conyngham Plunkett, and had not William Conyngham Plunkett been his majesty's attorney-general for Ireland, William Magee might now be following his father's occupation and some thousands a year, yet he cannot get rid of the spirit of trade, which he inherits from his early occupations and the pursuits of his father. Like all dealers, he is a monopolist, and hates the Catholics -not for any dislike he has to their creed or principles, but because the Catholic clergy divide the mar. ket with him-because they detach ket with him because they detach customers from his stall, and reduce the value of the commodity he deals in. He hates all sign. boards but that which indicates where Protestantism is to be dis that of a sturdy pedlar. Instead of compelling parliamentary committees to listen to his sophistry-posed of; and as he is unable to to his scholastic nonsense-he might crush, by force, his rivals, he takes be exerting his eloquence in setting another method-he depreciates the off to advantage the beauty of a value of their creed-labours to pair of garters, or in passing en- prove that one opponent has a comiums on a pair of scissors. In- church and no religion-and that stead of being a sleck divine,' he another has a religion! but no might have grown strong in the church. Fine thing to be educated daily practice of assisting his ass in Trinity College, it teaches the up the hills of the North, and art and mystery of an antithesis strengthened his sinews by pedes. it instructs boys in logic that the trian exercise. professors do not understand; and lectures on rhetoric, useless every way but in silent Trinity. His Grace, however, knows that it teaches one useful branch of knowledge-that to be a good Protestant a student need only hate Popery,and write a book which no one could ever read. Promotion is sure to follow; for, easy as it is to write a dull folio, Trinity College has produced but few men who could even do that. Should the accidental knowledge of Latin and Greek have disqualified him from following the pursuits of his father, he might have been less usefully employed as a village curate in an Orange district of Fermanagh he might have become tutor, as he once was, to a great man's son-but bishop or archbishop he would never have been, was it not for his school-fellow, William Conyngham Plunkett. Far from me be the spirit of envy; I am only illustrating a moral truth -I am only showing that, had not William Magee been archbishop of Dublin, the world would never have attached the least importance to what he either wrote or said. An archbishop, however, he is, and a very intolerant churchman he has become; and, as his name stands conspicuous on the list of bigotry, the sooner we ascertain his character the better. It has been said by somebody, and every body, that first impressions are most lasting. I believe it; for, though his grace, Archbishop Magee, has now a splendid palace, In the same spirit of trade his Grace has found fault with May. nooth College. He does not care three straws in what manner the Catholic clergy are educated, but he could not admit that an institu. tion which receives only a few thousands a year could instruct her students as well as a Protestant University, which has fifteen fellows, and an income of nearly half a million. Besides, some of these ignorant Priests defeated his Grace in argument, exposed the ignorance of his son-in-law, and held the faith he professed up to ridicule. They did this according to all the rules of sound logic, because they had not been educated on the Con. tinent-because they were ignorant and because they were educated at Maynooth. Dr. Doyle, too, proved too learned, too eloquent, and too sarcastic for his Grace on a memorable occasion ; and, in order to prove that all Catholic bishops are not Dr. Doyles, his Grace has industriously circulated that this Catholic divine was educated on the Continent. Compelled to acknowledge defeat, he found consolation in a subterfuge, and hid his shame in his endeavour to prove that his opponent was a solitary instance of learning in a Popish priest, and that Maynooth College produces nothing but bigots! Poor man! I pity him! His Grace's comments on the Athanasian creed is a fine illustration of what kind of learning is taught to and by churchmen in these strong holds of exploded errors-called Colleges. His answers display a sing net of sophistry, like his great work on the Atonement,' which he stole from a forgotten German, you have only to deny his premises, and his whole argument unravels of itself, the superstructure falls to the ground, and leaves not a wreck behind. The world is fast coming round to the doctrine of common sense; and it is pleasing to see with what facility ordinary members of parliament convicted his Grace of that intolerance and bigotry which he attributed to others. When made achbishop, he thought his soul was transformed into a new body—and really felt as if he was superior to his species. He thoughtlessly insulted all who held doctrines opposed to his own; but the spirit his want of good manners aroused soon taught him that, though people look at men in high stations, they are very far from considering them demi-gods! Before the Lords he was quite aristocratic; that is, overbearing and haughty; but I only wait till the whole of his Grace's evidence is published, to tickle him a bit. Rock. |