Imagens das páginas

* Not quite,' says Kavanagh: continued Jerry, he was catched 'your purse had nearly got me by the Orangemen, who hanged him murdhered, hanged, and shot; but upon the first sign-post they met, still it's a good purse, and so I'll thank and there was an end of him. Happy you for it-No goster! didn't I see would it have been for him if he the drummer give it to you this mo- had never seen a Luprechaun; for, ment? so out with it, auld fellow, or troth, only for the money, he might I'll be after letting the day light have been a happy man to-day.' through you with your own paring- Ay, in troth,' said an old man, knife !'

we should give God thanks for Oh, lord ! cried the Luprechaun, what we have, and be contented. see the sogers !

But, Jerry, you have a murdhering Where?' roared Kavanagh, turn. fine memory, God bless you, man! ing about; and instantly the Lupre- for you tould that story as well as chaun was off, like the shot out of a the priest of the parish; and, talkin gun, and was never seen since. of the priest, see where he comes.'

And what became of Kavanagh?' The ringing of the altar-bell now Coming out of his hiding-place,' called them to mass.'


By the suthor of Glean-daluch.'
• He heard the Benshee's boding scream.'-Scort.
Now cheer thee on, my gallant steed,

There's a weary way before us-
Across the mountain swiftly speed,

For the storm is gathering o’er us.
Away, away, the horseman rides;

His bounding steeds dark form
Seemed o'er the soft black moss to glide-

A spirit of the storm!
Now, rolling in the troubled sky,

The thunder's loudly crashing;
And through the dark clouds, driving by,

The moon's pale light is flashing.
In sheets of foam the mountain flood

Comes roaring down the glen;
On the steep bank one moment stood

The horse and rider then.
One desperate bound the courser gave,

And plunged into the stream ;
And, snorting, stemmed the boiling wave

By the lightning's quivering gleam.
The flood is past--the bank is gained

Away with headlong speed :
A fleeter horse than Desmond reined

Ne'er served at lover's need.
His scattered train in


Far, far, behind him ride ;
Alone he's crossed the mountain waste,

To meet his promised bride.
The clouds across the moon's dim form

Are fast and faster sailing,
And sounds are heard on the sweeping storm

Of wild unearthly wailing.
At first low moanings seemed to die

Away, and faintly languishi,
Then swell into the piercing cry,

Of deep heart-bursting anguish.

Beneath an oak, whose branches bare

Were crashing in the storm,
With wringing hands and streaming hair,

There sat a female form.
To pass that oak in vain he tried ;

His steed refused to stir,
Though furious 'gainst his panting side

Was struck the bloody spur.
The moon, by driving clouds o'ercast,

Withheld its titful gleam;
And louder than the tempest blast

Was heard the Benshee's scream.
And, when the moon unveiled once more,

And showed her paly light,
Then nought was seen save the branches hoar

Of the oak-tree's blasted might.
That shrieking form had vanished

From out that lonely place ;
And, like a dreamy vision, fled,

Nor left one single trace.
Earl Desmond gazed—his boson swelled

With grief and sad foreboding ;
Then on his fiery way he held,

His courser madly goading-
For well that wailing voice he knew,

And, onward hurrying fast,
O’er hills and dales impetuous flew,

And reached his home at last.

Beneath his wearied conrser's hoof

The trembling drawbridge clangs;
And Desmond sees his own good roof,

But darkness o'er it hangs.
He passed beneath the gloomy gate,

No guiding tapers burn,
No vassals in the court-yard wait

To welcoine his return.
The hearth is cold in the lonely hall,

· No banquet decks the board, No page stands ready at the call

To 'tend his wearied lord ; But all within is dark and drear,

No sights or sounds of gladness-
Nought broke the stillness on the ear,

Save a sudden burst of sadness.
Then slowly swelled the keener's strain

With loud Yament and weeping,
For round a corse a mournful train

The sad death-watch were keeping.
Aghast he stood, bereft of power,

Hope's fairy visions fled;
His fears confirmed,--his beauteous flower

His fair-haired bride-was dead!


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The English and Irish Peasantry compared.- Emmet's Opinion of the real Cause of

Irish Misery. Next morning, while at breakfast, • We must not confound,' he reI received a visit from my young plied, 'the want of employment with friend. He appeared somewhat em- the absence of employment; and, to barrassed; and, after alluding to our prevent a confusion of ideas, let us conversation of the preceding night, call it idleness, a word that clearly intimated that he did not wish any inplies the condition of a portion of person should be informed of his po- our population. litical opinions. In fact,' he con

Idleness is a relative term, and tinued, I ain peculiarly situated. My has various significations attached to connexions, my brother, and my own it in different countries, and under incautious conduct while at college, different circumstances. In the east, has subjected me to certain suspi- to be free from toil is to be comparacions-groundless to be sure, but cal- tively happy; and to be exempt from culated to inconvenience me, should labour is every where desired, though the government hear of my being in not every where attainable; for it the country'

depends solely on the facility, or diffi* Then they do not know of it?' I culty, which man has in procuring interrupted with some surprise. subsistence.

Certainly not,' he returned.- “The natural state of the body, if not Some time ago I thought it prudent death, as some have it, is certainly a to visit France, and have not song re- kind of torpor which is averse to exerturned from Bruxelles. Business of tion, because every exertion is attenda peculiar nature has brought me ed with a certain portion of pain, the back for a short time; and, to avoid dread of which is only overcome by suspicion, I have been under the ne- the application of some excitement, cessity of assuming another name—a and then the degree of activity dething I despise, but which circum- pends upon the degree of stimulus stances have rendered absolutely ne- that forces us into action ; but when cessary. The unfortunate are not to there is no stimulus there is no exerbe judged by ordinary rules, and I tion. The merchant, when his desire hope Mr. K-n does not consider me of wealth is satisfied, flies from the less worthy of his friendship from the bustle of business to the indolence nature of


of tranquillity; and the tradesman I replied in the negative.

contemplates, as the reward of all his • Then,' he resumed, I beg you toils, ease and retirement. Even the may give me a proof of it, by calling at poor labourer welcomes Sunday, bemy country-house-lodgings, I mean cause Sunday is a day of rest. So --near Rathfarnham, on your way natural, and so powerful, is the wish of out of town. Your friend, Mr. J- mankind to be exempt from laborious as we call him, the Exile, has pro- exertion, that he is universally acmised, if you accompany him, to dine counted the happiest who has the least with me. Inquire for Mr. Ellis; need of application to business, either our friend knows the house.'

bodily or mental. Having promised to dine with him, When first I read the theories of he took his departure; and, about philosophers, who never reflectedthree o'clock, the Exile and I set out and the journals of travellers, who for Rathfarnham. On our way, I was described what they had never seenastonished to see such a number of I was of opinion that it was possible the poorer classes loitering about the for a high state of moral civilization doors of public houses, or leaning and good government to subdue this over the battlements of every bridge universal propensity of our nature, we passed. It is no wonder,' said' I and make man enamoured of industo my friend, “ that the Irish are mi- try, inerely for the sake of employserable, since they are in such a wantment, independent of the hope of gain. of employment.'

The self-gratifying commendations of

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Englishmen, and the unthinking en- evident, even to a stranger, who reads comiums of those of my own country the reports on the poor-laws. The who had visited that land of manu- magistrate has instructions to profactures, tended in no small degree to cure employment, and has power to confirm this hasty conclusion. Filled compel the vagrant to work: yet with these sentiments, I had an ex- every eigbth labouring man in Engalted opinion of Englislımen and land is idle ; and idle, because neither English civilization : and, when I the influence of authority, nor the landed at Bristol, I could not ima- dread of hunger, can provide him gine myself in a British city, it employment. Pauperism

in Englandt differed so much from what I had devours an annual sum that would be expected.

adequate to the maintenance of every My journey to London, and sub- agricultural labourer in Ireland in the sequent residence in that metropolis, common diet of the country; and convinced me that I had formed an we may form some idea of British erroneous estimate; for I found men misery by recollecting that the posuch as they are found every where, pulation of London, vast as it is, is some extremely rich, and others ex- not equal to the number of those tremely poor; some very good, and who receive parochial relief in the some very vicious: but I never found country' one inclined to work who was not Admitting this to be the case,' impelled by either present necessity said I, it only shows the utility of or the distant hope of being one day those laws which relieve so much able to remain idle.

misery.' • An Englishman certainly works It shows, my dear sir,' returned hard-perhaps, in some cases,

harder my friend, that misery is not exthan an Irishman; and why? because cluded, though it be somewhat mitifrom the low price of labour, and the gated; and it shows how much haphigh price of the necessaries of life, pier Ireland is than England, always he toils for the most cruel of task- bearing in mind that the lower orders, masters-Want. He has no alterna- in every country, form the nation.' tive but unremitted labour or the • You cannot persuade me to this,' workhouse ; for a week's idleness I rejoined, for it shows no such would ruin a whole family;• If you thing. Warm clothing and good eatwant the key to English industry-iting must have the advantage of cold is absolute necessity. Habit, per- and hunger, unless you can make us haps, has made labour in that coun- forego all our ideas of comfort and try less dreaded than in others; happiness.” but circumstances have certainly Mere animal happiness,' replied made it more imperative than in any the Exile, consists in the gratificanation I have ever seen or read of: tion of desires; and, of course, must and, if a modern philosopher* be be greatest where the smallest numright in asserting that half an hour's ber of desires are excited, and the daily toil, from every person in the means of gratification most easily obcommunity, would amply supply all tained. He that can exchange six the rational wants of mankind, we months' labour for an annual supply must refuse to applaud that state of of those necessaries he has learned to society which compels two-thirds of esteem, and which he finds sufficient its members to perpetual labour.' for all his wants, must be more happy

*But if employment,'I interrupted, than he who toils through the twelve can be always procured in such a months for a scanty portion of daily quantity as to supply the poor man's nutriment; and the difference must wants, I should pronounce him com- be still greater if the first labour unparatively happy, whatever may be der no apprehension; while the latthe arguments of philosophers.' ter, like the guest of the tyrant, is in

• That every man in England,' re- continual dread that what is always plied the Exile, “who seeks employ- suspended over him may, at any hour, ment, does not find it, must be descend; for, when the labour of the

* Godwin's 'Political Justice." # In 1803 the amount of poor-rates was 10,000,0001.


" that

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day is to supply its wants, we must occasional sufferings of the peasansuppose that, where there is no em- try, which are always local, have, for ployment, distress and its concomi. this last century, originated in supertants must prevail.

abundance; for a year of extraordi. These two cases exactly apply to nary plenty has generally been sucEngland and Ireland. In the former ceeded by a year of privation. This a great portion of the labouring class is a fact which clearly shows that is employed in manufactures, and, the principal evil to be complainconsequently, subject to the fluctua- ed of consists in the facility with tions of trade. They live in con- which the necessaries of life are tinual uncertainty-an evil only sur- obtained.' passed by the stings of iminediate But you forget,' said I, want. Add to this, that custom the food of the Irish peasant is nohas made animal food the neces- thing but potatoes, diversified with sary diet of all; and, by compar. the occasional luxury of bacon and ing the price of meat with the price oatmeal.' of labour, we shall find that it must • The palate,' replied the Exile, always be scanty.

should never be allowed to decide • In Ireland is found the reverse of upon what is fit for the stomach. this. The people are agriculturists, Meat may be more grateful than poand agriculturists in a peculiar sense; tatoes and oatmeal ; but is not more for nearly every man has a farm; wholesome, nor does it appear necesand, though the English monopolist saryt for either promoting health or may feel indignant at the prostitution prolonging life, the two legitimate of the term, I must tell him that the objects of all nourishment. Irish cottier's farm, whatever may be pearance and habits of the Irish peaits size, supplies its owner with as santry declare that their simple diet much as he derives from his thousand is not only nutritive, but satisfactory. acres—the means of subsistence, and Their athletic and active forms are a probably as large a quantity of real sufficient proof of the first, while enjoyment. Our peasantry, in which their contented and cheerful counteclass may be comprised all our work- nances, as well as their full flow of ing people, are frequently idle, but animal spirits, sufficiently demonseldom hungry. Potatoes are gene- strate the latter. The general comrally so abundant, as to be converted plaint of the English projectors, who to manure* ; and, though the crop have visited Ireland, is the aversion may fail in some counties, the defi- of the peasantry to constant and reciency is made up by the quantity in gular labour t; another proof, if others. Common industry must place proof be needed, that they are neither every man beyond the possibility of under the necessity of working hard, want; and, in fact, so little exertion nor dissatisfied with the common diet is requisite for this purpose, that, like of the country; for, amongst all the the bees in Hindostan, abundance stimulants that impel men to labour, has made the people indolently care- the apprehension of want is the greatless, while in some places they have est. Whenever the peasantry feel neglected making any provision for this necessity, they quickly forego an approaching winter, when they their indolent habits; and, like all have found the former one had passed persons similarly circumstanced, apoff without causing any distress. The ply themselves to industry $ : but the

* This I have seen myself; and the English reader may form some idea of the abundance of potatoes in Ireland, when he is told that a common beggar will not accept them as charity.

+ It may indeed be doubted whether butchers' meat ' vny where a necessary of life. Grain, and other vegetables, with the help of milk, cheese, and butter, or oil, where butter is not to be had, it is known from experience, can, without any butchers' meat, afford the most plentiful, the most wholesome, the most nourishing, and the most invigorating diet.'-Wealth of Nations.

See the Irrigator's account in Mr. Wakefield's work, Vol. I. ģ. It is not,' says a Report of the Southern District, published in the distressful year of 1892, uncommon to find labourers at the public works, who travel three or four

VOL. I.--No. 5.


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