ber, borne onward towards the neighbouring quays, under the guidance of a shipman's boathook-pleasure-boats, with gaudy pennons hanging at peak and topmast-or turf-boats, with their unpicturesque and ungraceful lad On removed to the North Monastery, Cork, where, we are told, he soon became a mere skeleton, and in this weak state he caught a fever, of which he died, June 12, 1840, aged thirty-six years. He was interred in the cemetery of the convent, and a stone with the inscriptioning, moving sluggishly forward, while their "BROTHER GERALD GRIFFIN" marks the spot. The Dublin University Magazine says of Griffin: "He died young; yet what of that? so do the great proportion of all our men of genius; so did the brightest spirits it has been our fortune to know during our weird world journey. They had too little clay. He died early, and though his works rather show what he could do than satisfy us with what he has actually effected-rather lead us to expectation than contentment-yet we feel he has given us sufficient for remembrance. The author of the Collegians must live-and as an able delineator of our national feelings as an expounder of that subtlest of problems, the Irish heart-he cannot be forgotten; but with Carleton, and Banim, and Miss Edgeworth, and one or two more, he will take his place in our Irish firmament, and form a portion of that galaxy to which we are wont to look with wonder and pride." The contents of the collected edition of his works are as follows:-"Life" by his brother; The Collegians; Card-Drawing; The Half-Sir; Suil Dhuv; The Rivals; Tracy's Ambition; Hollandtide; Duke of Monmouth; Tales of the Jury-room; and Poetry.] A HAPPY HOME. (FROM THE COLLEEN BAWN.") It was a favourable moment for any one who might be desirous of sketching a family picture. The windows of the room, which were thrown up for the purpose of admitting the fresh morning air, opened upon a trim and sloping meadow, that looked sunny and cheerful with the bright green after-grass of the season. The broad and sheety river washed the very margin of the little field, and bore upon its quiet bosom (which was only ruffled by the circling eddies that encountered the advancing tide) a variety of craft, such as might be supposed to indicate the approach to a large commercial city. Majestic vessels, floating idly on the basined flood, with sails half furled, in keeping with the languid beauty of the scene-lighters, burdened to the water's edge with bricks or sand-large rafts of tim black sails seemed gasping for a breath to fill The interior of the cottage was not less interesting to contemplate than the landscape which lay before it. The principal breakfasttable (for there were two spread in the room) was placed before the window, the neat and snow-white damask cloth covered with fare that spoke satisfactorily for the circumstances of the proprietor, and for the housewifery of his helpmate. The former, a fair, pleasantfaced old gentleman, in a huge buckled cravat and square-toed shoes, somewhat distrustful of the meagre beverage which fumed out of Mrs. Daly's lofty and shining coffee-pot, had taken his position before a cold ham and fowl which decorated the lower end of the table. His lady, a courteous old personage, with a face no less fair and happy than her husband's, and with eyes sparkling with good nature and intelligence, did the honours of the board at the farther end. On the opposite side, leaning over the back of his chair with clasped hands, in an attitude which had a mixture of abstraction and anxiety, sat Mr. Kyrle Daly, the first pledge of connubial affection that was born to this comely pair. He was a young man already initiated in the rudiments of the legal profession; of a handsome figure, and in manner but something now pressed upon his spirits which rendered this an unfavourable occasion for describing him. A second table was laid in a more retired portion of the room for the accommodation of the younger part of the family. Several wellburnished goblets or porringers of thick milk flanked the sides of this board, while a large dish of smooth-coated potatoes reeked up in | brass-barrelled blunderbuss, a cutlass, and a the centre. A number of blooming boys and case of horse-pistols, manifested Mr. Daly's girls, between the ages of four and twelve, determination to maintain, if necessary, by were seated at this simple repast, eating and force of arms, his claim to the fair possessions drinking away with all the happy eagerness which his honest industry had acquired. of youthful appetite. Not, however, that this employment occupied their exclusive attention, for the prattle which circulated round the table frequently became so boisterous as to drown the conversation of the older people, and to call forth the angry rebuke of the master of the family. The furniture of the apartment was in accordance with the appearance and manners of its inhabitants. The floor was handsomely carpeted, a lofty green fender fortified the fire-place, and supplied Mr. Daly in his facetious moments with occasions for the frequent repetition of a favourite conundrum-" Why is that fender like Westminster Abbey?"-a problem with which he never failed to try the wit of any stranger who happened to spend a night beneath his roof. The wainscotted walls were ornamented with several of the popular prints of the day, such as Hogarth's Roast Beef, Prince Eugene, Schomberg at the Boyne, Mr. Betterton playing Cato in all the glory of "Full wig, flower'd gown, and lacker'd chair;" of the royal Mandane, in the person of Mrs. Mountain, strutting among the arbours of her Persian palace in a lofty tête and hooped petticoat. There were also some family drawings done by Mrs. Daly in her school-days, of which we feel no inclination to say more than that they were prettily framed. In justice to the fair artist, it should also be mentioned that, contrary to the established practice, her sketches were never re-touched by the hand of her master, a fact which Mr. Daly was fond of insinuating, and which no one who saw the pictures was tempted to call in question. A small bookcase, with the edges of the shelves handsomely gilded, was suspended in one corner of the room, and, on examination, might be found to contain a considerable number of works on Irish history, for which study Mr. Daly had a national predilection, a circumstance much deplored by all the impatient listeners in his neighbourhood, and (some people hinted) in his own household; some religious books, and a few volumes on cookery and farming. The space over the lofty chimney-piece was assigned to some ornaments of a more startling description. A gun-rack, on which were suspended a long shore-gun, a "Kyrle," said Mr. Daly, putting his fork into a breast of cold goose, and looking at his son, "you had better let me put a little goose (with an emphasis) on your plate. You know you are going a wooing to-day." The young gentleman appeared not to hear him. Mrs. Daly, who understood more intimately the nature of her son's reflections, deprecated, by a significant look at her husband, the continuance of any raillery upon so delicate a subject. "Kyrle, some coffee?" said the lady of the house, but without being more successful in awakening the attention of the young gentle man. Mr. Daly winked at his wife. "Kyrle!" he called aloud, in a tone against which even a lover's absence was not proof, "do you hear what your mother says?" "I ask pardon, sir-I was absent-I-what were you saying, mother?" "She was saying," continued Mr. Daly with a smile, "that you were manufacturing a fine speech for Anna Chute, and that you were just meditating whether you should deliver it on your knees, or out of brief, as if you were addressing the bench in the Four Courts." "For shame, my dear! Never mind him, Kyrle, I said no such thing. I wonder how you can say that, my dear, and the children listening." "Pooh! the little angels are too busy and too innocent to pay us any attention," said Mr. Daly, lowering his voice, however. "But speaking seriously, my boy, you take this affair too deeply to heart; and whether it be in our pursuit of wealth, or fame, or even in love itself, an extreme solicitude to be successful is the surest means of defeating its own object. Besides it argues an unquiet and unresigned condition. I have had a little experience, you know, in affairs of this kind," he added, smiling and glancing at his fair helpmate, who blushed with the simplicity of a young girl. "Ah! sir," said Kyrle, as he drew nearer to the breakfast-table with a magnanimous affectation of cheerfulness, "I fear I have not so good a ground for hope as you may have had. It is very easy, sir, for one to be resigned to disappointment when he is certain of success." "Why, I was not bidden to despair, in deed," said Mr. Daly, extending his hand to | his wife, while they exchanged a quiet smile, which had in it an expression of tenderness and of melancholy remembrance. "I have, I believe, been more fortunate than more deserving persons. I have never been vexed with useless fears in my wooing days, nor with vain regrets when those days were ended. I do not know, my dear lad, what hopes you have formed, or what prospects you may have shaped out of the future; but I will not wish you a better fortune than that you may as nearly approach to their accomplishment as I have done, and that time may deal as fairly with you as he has done with your father." After saying this, Mr. Daly leaned forward on the table, with his temple supported by one finger, and glanced alternately from his children to his wife, while he sang in a low tone the following verse of a popular song: "How should I love the pretty creatures, While round my knees they fondly clung, with a glance at Kyrle "And I go wooing with the boys." "And this," thought young Kyrle, in the affectionate pause that ensued, "this is the question which I go to decide upon this morning-whether my old age shall resemble the picture which I see before me; or whether I shall be doomed to creep into the winter of my life a lonely, selfish, cheerless, moneyhunting old bachelor. Is not this enough to make a little solicitude excusable, or pardonable at least?" While Mrs. Daly, who was the empress of all housekeepers, superintended the removal of the breakfast table, not disdaining, with her own fair hands, to restore the plate and china to their former neatness, the old gentleman called all his children around him, to undergo a customary examination. They came flocking to his knees, the boys with their satchels thrown over their shoulders, and the girls with their gloves and bonnets on, ready for school. Occasionally, as they stood before the patriarchal sire, their eyes wandered from his face towards a lofty pile of sliced bread and butter, and a bowl of white sugar, which stood near his elbow. "North-east!" Mr. Daly began, addressing the eldest. It should be premised that this singular name was given to the child in compliance with a popular superstition; for, sensible as the Dalys were accounted in their daily affairs, they were not wholly exempt from the prevailing weakness of their countrymen. Three of Mrs. Daly's children died at nurse, and it was suggested to the unhappy parents that if the next little stranger were baptized by the name of North-east, the curse would be removed from their household. Mrs. Daly acceded to the proposition, adding to it at the same time the slight precaution of changing her nurses. With what success this ingenious remedy was attended, the flourishing state of Mr. Daly's nursery thenceforward sufficiently testified. "North-east," said the old gentleman, "when was Ireland first peopled?" "By Bartholanus, sir, in anno mundi 1956, the great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson of Noah.” "Six greats. Right, my boy. Although the Cluan-Mac-Nois makes it 1969. But a difference of a few years, at a distance of nearly four thousand, is not a matter to be quarrelled with. Stay, I have not done with you yet. Mr. Tickleback tells me you are a great Latinist. What part of Ovid are you reading now?" "The Metamorphoses, sir, book the thirteenth." "Ah, poor Ajax! he's an example and a warning for all Irishmen. Well, North-east, Ulysses ought to supply you with Latin enough to answer me one question. Give me the construction of this: Mater mea sus est mala.” The boy hesitated a moment, laughed, reddened a little, and looked at his mother. "That's a queer thing, sir," he said at last. "Come, construe, construe." 66 My mother is a bad sow,” said North-east, laughing: "that's the only English I can find for it." "Ah, North-east! Do you call me names, my lad?" said Mrs. Daly, while she laid aside the china in a cupboard. ""Tis dadda you should blame, ma'am; 'twas he said it. I only told him the English of it." This affair produced much more laughter and merriment than it was worth. At length Mr. Daly condescended to explain. "You gave me one construction of it," said he, "but not the right one. However, these things cannot be learned all in a day, and your translation was correct, North-east, in point of grammar, at all events. But (he continued, with a look of learned wisdom) the true meaning of the sentence is this: Mater, mother, mea, hasten, sus, the sow, est, eats up (edere, my boy, not esse), mala, the apples." “O, it's a cran, I see," said the boy, with some indignation of tone. "One isn't obliged to know crans. I'd soon puzzle you if I was to put you all the crans I know." "Not so easily as you suppose, perhaps," said his father in dignified alarm, lest his reputation should suffer in the eyes of his wife, who really thought him a profound linguist. 'But you are a good boy. Go to school, North-east. Here, open your satchel." 66 The satchel was opened, a huge slice of bread from the top of the pile above-mentioned was dropt into it, and North-east set off south-south-west out of the house. "Charles, who is the finest fellow in Ireland?" "Well, I perceive you have some knowledge in physics, and comparative physiology. There's some hope of you. Go to school." And the pile of bread appeared a few inches lower. The remainder was distributed amongst the girls, to whom the happy father put questions in history, geography, catechism, &c., proportioned to the capacity of each. At length he descended to the youngest, a little cherub, with roses of three years' growth in her cheeks. "Well, Sally, my pet, what stands for sugar?" "I, dadda." "Ah! Sally's a wag, I see. You do stand for it, indeed, and you shall get it. We must not expect to force nature,” he added, looking at his wife, and tossing his head. "Every beginning is weak, and Sam Johnson himself was as indifferent a philologist once in his day. And now, to school at once, darlings, and bring home good judgments. Nelly will go for you at three o'clock." The little flock of innocents, who were "Because he says we must have a free trade, matched in size like the reeds of a pandean sir." "That's a good boy. Ah! you young villain, if I had asked you who won the last boat-race, or how many hookers went by this morning, you'd give me a better answer than that. Was it Julius Caesar sailed round the revenue cutter, near Tarbert, the other day?" "No, sir, it was Larry Kett." pipe, each under each, having left the scene, Mr. Daly proceeded to despatch his own affairs, and possessed himself of his hat and cane. "I'll step over to the meadow, my dear, and see how the hay gets on. And give me that pamphlet of Hutchinson's--Commercial Restraints-I promised to lend it to Father Malachy. And let the stranger's room be got ready, my love, and the sheets aired, for I expect Mr. Windfall, the tax-gatherer, to sleep here to-night. And, Sally, if Ready should come about his pigs that I put in pound last night, let him have them free of cost, but not without giving the fellow a fright about them; and, above all, insist upon having rings in their noses before night. My little lawn is like a fallow-field with them. I'll be back at five." Saying this, and often turning his head as some new commission arose to his memory, the "I'll engage you know that. Well, tell me Munster "Middleman" sallied out of his house, this, and I'll forgive you! Who was the and walked along the gravelled avenue, humbravest seaman you ever heard of? always ex-ming, as he went, a verse of the popular old cepting Hardress Cregan.” "Brown, sir, the man that brought the Bilboa ship into Youghal after making prisoners of nine Frenchmen—the fellows, dadda”—the boy continued, warming with his subject-"were sent to take the vessel into France, and Brown had only three men and a boy with him, and they retook the ship, and brought her into Youghal. But sure one Irishman was more than a match for two Frenchmen." song: "And when I at last must throw off this frail covering, Which I have worn for threescore years and ten, On the brink of the grave I'll not seek to keep hovering, Nor my thread wish to spin o'er again. My face in the glass I'll serenely survey, And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow, For this old worn-out stuff that is threadbare to-day, May become everlasting to-morrow! To-morrow! To-morrow! Such, in happier days than ours, was the life of a Munster farmer. Indeed, the word is ill adapted to convey to an English reader an idea of the class of persons whom it is intended to designate, for they were and are, in mind and education, far superior to the persons who occupy that rank in most other countries. Opprobrious as the term "middleman" has been rendered in our own time, it is certain that the original formation of the sept was both natural and beneficial. When the country was deserted by its gentry, a general promotion of one grade took place among those who remained at home. The farmers became gentlemen, and the labourers became farmers, the former assuming, together with the station and influence, the quick and honourable spirit, the love of pleasure, and the feudal authority which distinguished their aristocratic archetypes; while the humbler classes looked up to them for advice and assistance, with the same feeling of respect and of dependence which they had once entertained for the actual proprietors of the soil. The covetousness of landlords them selves, in selling leases to the highest bidder, without any inquiry into his character or fortune, first tended to throw imputations on this respectable and useful body of men, which in progress of time swelled into a popular outcry, and ended in an act of the legislature for their gradual extirpation. There are few now in that class as prosperous, many as intelligent and high principled, as Mr. Daly. THE TEMPTATION OF HARDRESS. (FROM "THE COLLEEN BAWN.") During the few weeks that followed the conversation just detailed, Eily perceived a rapid and fearful change in the temper and appearance of her husband. His visits were fewer and shorter than before, and when he did come, his manner was restrained and cautious in an extraordinary degree. His eye looked troubled, his voice was deep and broken, his cheek grew pale and fleshless, and a gloomy air, which might be supposed the mingled result of discontent and dissipation, appeared in all his person. He no longer conversed with that noisy frankness and gaiety in which he was accustomed to indulge in all societies where he felt perfectly at ease. To Eily he spoke sometimes with coldness and impatience, and very often with a wild affection that had in it as much of grief as of tenderness. To the other inmates of the cottage he was altogether reserved and haughty, and even his own boatman seldom cared to tempt him into a conversation. Sometimes Eily was inclined to think that he had escaped from some unpleasing scenes at home, his demeanour, during the evening was so abstracted and so full of care. On other occasions, when he came to her cottage late at night, she was shocked to discover about him the appearance of a riotous indulBorn and educated as she was in the gence. Ireland of the eighteenth century, this cir cumstance would not have much disturbed the mind of our heroine, but that it became gradually more frequent of occurrence, and seemed rather to indicate a voluntary habit, than that necessity to which even sober people were often subjected, when they mingled in the society of Irish country gentlemen of that period. Eily thus experienced for the first time, and with an aching spirit, one of the keenest anxieties of married life. "Hardress," she said to him one morning when he was preparing to depart, after an interval of gloomy silence, long unbroken, “I won't let you go among those fine ladies any more, if you be thinking of them always when you come to me again." Her husband started like one consciencestruck, and looked sharply round upon her. "What do you mean?" he said, with a slight contraction of the brows. "Just what I say, then," said Eily, smiling and nodding her head with a pretty affectation of authority. "Those fine ladies mustn't take you from Eily. And I'll tell you another thing, Hardress. Whisper." She laid her hand on his shoulder, raised herself on tiptoe, and murmured in his ear: "I'll not let you among the fine gentlemen either, if that's the teaching they give you." "What teaching?" "Oh, you know yourself," Eily continued, nodding and smiling; "it is a teaching that you would never learn from Eily, if you spent the evenings with her as you used to do in the beginning. Do you know is there e'er a priest living in this neighbourhood?" "Why do you ask?" "Because I have something to tell him that lies upon my conscience." "And would you not confess your failings to an affectionate friend, Eily, as well as to a holier director?" "I would," said Eily, bending on him a look |