confined nature, such as the votary of the Wye, (and I am one) would even more admire. Tertio. That Palmerstown-house and demesne, when they can peep into it, will gratify their admiration; and Woodlands, (I am well disposed to consign the name of Lutterelstown to oblivion,) will prove a deeply interesting attraction. Its undulating variety of surface-its vistas of the scenery of the Liffey -its sequestered glen-its rivulet, dimpling over its rocky bed -its ancient trees-its lake-its imitative castle.-Oh! but they are absentees, that seek this information from me.--I will, therefore, say no more, but let them come back to us, and I will be their Cicerone to scenery, perhaps, as lovely as they have admired in the land of the stranger. J. D. ANCIENT IRISH BIOGRAPHY.-No. VIII. FEIDLIM, THE LAWGIVER. | rials for more grateful and useful consideration. In the character of the prince named above, there is a proof of this. It is a singular circumstance that, in ancient times, our princes were the chief leaders of opinion, and the most zealous promoters of improvements in the system of government; in fact, we find them almost the sole authors of such changes in the laws as seemed best calculated to ensure the safety and happiness of their subjects, and this, undoubtedly, was their true and proper duty. Feidlim, the Lawgiver, was the son of Tuathal the Acceptable, of the Heremonian line. He avenged the murder of his illustrious father upon Mal, (who was descended from the line of Ir, and had succeeded in usurping the monarchical authority during four years,) and thus ascended the throne himself, in the year 164. He is stated to have been a prince of remarkable integrity of character, and of a singular sense of that equal, impartial justice, which all good men love. His first act, on coming into power, was the convention of a parliament at Tara. THAT period of Irish history commencing about a century be- To this he submitted a system of jurisprudence, which it fore the Christian era, and terminating at the first successful in- adopted after mature deliberation, and which was subsequently vasion of the Danes, appears to have been the "golden age" of put into operation throughout the entire judicatories of the our country. Every century was then signalized by some great kingdom. I have reason to think that it continued in force for change of characteristic improvement in the moral qualities, so- many centuries afterwards, for, on reference to some fragments cial habits, the intellectual resources, pursuits and acquirements, of Brehon, laws which still remain, I find that its chief provithe refined and polished arts of peace, and the military prowess sions pervade them, and are even extended in them, so as to and fame of our ancestors. Every generation had its sages and increase their efficacy. This system was principally directed to its heroes, enough to command the respect and admiration of the punishment of criminal offences, and embraced that princithe wisest and bravest nations of Europe, in their own times, ple of legislation which has been called-the law of retaliation. and to shed a glorious lustre round their country for ever. From It is to the nature of this law that I am anxious to direct the the imperfect historical records of many of those countries now attention of my humble countrymen. Much controversy exists most celebrated for their civilization and power, we are unable among the learned with regard to its propriety; but its apparent to trace accurately the comparison between their former condi- equity is so much in accordance with the natural sentiments of tion and that of Ireland; but even the brief notices of the civil justice, that the unlearned and unreflecting are generally captipolicy, manners, and knowledge, which prevailed in those re- vated by it, and I know that Irishmen are very much governed mote days, which the scope of these biographies admits, afford by its authority, in their opinions and conduct. The law of resufficient grounds to prove our early superiority, and show how taliation enforces retribution in exact proportion to the crime,little their modern improvements have exceeded our ancient ex- in the words of Scripture," An eye for an eye, and a tooth cellence in the most important objects of civilization. No frame for a tooth." Many are so ignorant as to believe that it origiof government, consistent with monarchy, could place the mo- nated with Christianity, and, therefore, they regard it with penarch more under the control of the people; and no institutions culiar reverence; but the fact is, it existed previously, in some that recognise the feudal principle of sustaining peculiar privi- degree, among the Jews, Egyptians, the Greeks, and was leges in particular classes of the community, could better se- merely adopted, like some other parts of the old law, in the cure the general liberty and happiness of the subject. The Christian dispensation. The chief merit of its introduction into rights and interests of the humblest citizens were carefully Irish jurisprudence is, that it was invented by Feidlim, indeprotected and promoted, according to the most liberal princi- pendent of all aid or example, and was admirably adapted in ples of policy, and all the arts that could benefit, improve, or many respects to the state of society that then existed. No grace society, were zealously cultivated and diffused. Even other jurist seems to have applied its principles so generally the idolatrous doctrines of religion, taught previous to the pro- with equal skill, or to have secured for it such permanent inmulgation of Christianity, were characterised by a combination fluence, and, therefore, whatever may be the merits or demeof sound reason and mild morality, which the moral philosophy rits of the system, Feidlim deserves our utmost respect as a of the ancient Greeks, perhaps, alone equalled; they embodied sagacious and zealous benefactor of his country and mankind. the purest essence of natural religion, and wonderfully facili- The mere fact that he devised a law, which was subsequently tated the reception of the Christian faith. The chief mark of sustained by divine authority, and was but imperfectly devebarbarism which the nation retained was its propensity to war-loped by the wisest heathen sages of antiquity, is sufficient to fare,-a spirit of sanguinary contest which interrupted the hap- ensure him our reverence, and to demonstrate that his country piness of the state, and disgraced humanity itself. It is true, was then in a high state of civilization. this fierce disposition has been manifested, with equal virulence, by many nations still held in the highest reverence, but it is important that our countrymen should learn to distinguish between true and false glory, from the incidents of their own history, and the consequences of their own conduct, rather than from the brilliant but deceptive representations of the most classic historians of other countries. It has been too much the practice of all historians to eulogise the military genius of a people, as if this quality were a virtue of the highest order; but i hope that Irishmen will, henceforth, learn to consider moral courage, and peaceful enterprise infinitely more estimable. Warfare and bloodshed are equally opposed to the eternal and temporal interests of mankind, even where they are successful in achieving temporary benefits; it is their tendency to create a restless, turbulent, and cruel spirit in a people. Men made familiar with military operations, lose their respect for human life; and a readiness to resort to force, rather than to reason and moral agency, to effect our purposes, is the greatest proof of barbarism. This is a principle which Irishmen should always reccllect in reading any history, but particularly in studying their own. I have already had occasion to notice it in the course of these articles, and it will be my duty to do so frequently again, for, unhappily, our country was remarkably addicted to the "splendid vice" of war; but if I ever dwell on the details of our military glory, it is not to palliate its evils, or to sanction its pursuit. Our early history, however, contains ample mate Although I am willing to admit, upon such grounds as I have stated, that the law of retaliation was a great improvement in criminal jurisprudence, and was calculated to exercise a beneficial influence upon society, as it was then constituted; I cannot admit its justice or utility in the present day. When men exercised rapine as a profession, and were accustomed to invade the lives and properties of each other as a means of securing fame, rather than from any necessity of their condition, no penalty could be more effectual, in preventing violence or plunder, than retribution "in kind." If life were destroyed, life should be the forfeit, and if property were injured or pillaged, the loss should be supplied by the offender. Thus the murderer was himself slain, and he who destroyed an eye or an arm was maimed in the same members. If a man's sheep or oxen were taken, an equal number were restored to him by law; in some cases the penalty was doubled if not paid within a stated period, and again encreased if further delayed. Where the criminal could not comply with this law, he was given in bondage for a certain time to him he had injured. So far as the crimes here specified, it is manifest that the punishment was judicious, but let us recollect that there are many offences of equal turpitude to which the same measure of punishment could not be applied; at least, our present state of society presents many crimes, of a character equally heinous, which could never be punished in a similar manner. For instance, the violation of female chastity, slander, perjury, forgery, or magisterial oppres sion; for, as Sir William Blackstone observes, these are crimes "that will in no shape admit of similar penalties, without manifest absurdity and wickedness. Theft cannot be punished with theft, defamation by defamation, forgery by forgery, adultery by adultery," or the wrongs of power by aggressions equally inconsistent with justice. Besides, as regards offences against property, the great inequality in its distribution that now prevails, should greatly modify their punishment. Robbery is now too frequently the result of want and its miseries in the offender, and though this can never justify the crime, while it must also increase the necessity of preventing it as far as laws can, yet it would be ridiculous to contemplate the possibility of restitution from the destitute, and it would be inhuman to leave the criminal as a slave to the mercy of his prosecutor, as was done by the old Irish law. Such a mode of punishment would be inconsistent with our ideas of that liberty, of which we should not rashly deprive even the robber. The prevention of crime, and the correction of that tendency in the disposition of some individuals to its commission, are the true and legitimate objects of punishment. In this respect it may be doubted whether our modern excel our ancient laws; but we are not for this reason merely to give our ancient laws or their principles our approbation. We should rather shun the evils of both, and learn to correct their defects. There was one point of superiority in the ancient laws of both Ireland and England over those of the present day, the better apportionment of punishment to the nature of the offence, and the less sanguinary character of the punishments. The shedding of human blood, even according to the forms of law, is an awful act, and incurs an awful responsibility; it has, unhappily, been carried to a frightful excess under the English laws. It is remarkable that capital punishment was never resorted to in Russia, under the Empresses Elizabeth and Catharine II., and that empire was never more peaceful, or life and property more secure in it, than during their reigns. In Austria, capital punishments were formerly seldom inflicted; and even among the Turks, less blood is shed in execution of the laws than in England. Under the Saxon government, in England, the laws were extremely mild, though most efficient; and it was only since the Normans got possession of the country, and established the feudal system, that the laws assumed their present sanguinary character. This, therefore, is one reason of preference for our ancient laws, but I have shown inany defects in them which would render them unfit for society now. I have dwelt at length on the subject, with the wish to attract the attention of my countrymen to the consideration of those principles on which laws should be founded, and by which their conduct towards each other should be regulated. If I have shown that vindictive and cruel retribution is unjust and injudicious in the administration of laws, I trust they will perceive that harsh resentment, and sanguinary vengeance are not the best means of averting or punishing injury to themselves. They should rather forgive than resent slight wrongs; and desire rather the prevention of crime than revenge for its aggressions. I have but to add, in conclusion, that Feidlim, who framed the system of law I have here discussed, had the satisfaction to see it produce much benefit to his kingdom, even during his short reign of nine years. He enjoyed a peaceful death, and was much beloved and regretted. C. EFFECTS OF EXPANSION. A CANNON-BALL when heated, cannot be made to enter an opening, through which, when cold, it passes readily. A glass stopper sticking fast in the neck of a bottle, may be released by surrounding the neck with a cloth taken out of warm water, or by immersing the bottle in the water up to the neck: the binding-ring is thus heated and expanded sooner than the stopper, and so becomes slack or loose upon it. Pipes for conveying hot water, steam, hot air, &c., if of considerable length, must have joinings that allow a degree of shortening and lengthening, otherwise a change of temperature may destroy them. An incompetent person undertook to warm a large manufactory by steam from one boiler. He laid a rigid main-pipe along a passage, and opened lateral branches through holes into several apartments, but, on his first admitting the steam, the expansion of the main-pipe tore it away from all its branches. In an iron railing, a gate which, during a cold day, may be loose and easily shut or opened, in a warm day may stick, owing to there being greater expansion of it and the neighbouring railing, than of the earth on which they are placed. Thus, also, the centre of the arch of an iron bridge is higher in warm than cold weather; while, on the contrary, in a suspension or chain-bridge the centre is lowered. The iron pillars now so much used to support the front walls of houses, of which the ground stories serve as shops with spacious windows, in warm weather really lift up the wall which rests upon them, and in cold weather allow it to sink or subside, in a degree considerably greater than if the wall were brick from top to bottom. The pitch of a pianoforte is lowered in a warm day or in a warm room, owing to the expansion of the strings being greater than the wooden frame-work; and in cold the reverse will happen. A harp or piano, which is well tuned in a morning drawing-room, cannot be perfectly in tune when the crowded evening party has heated the room. Bellwires too slack in summer, may be of the proper length in winThere exists a most extraordinary exception, already mentioned, to the law of expansion by heat and contraction by cold, producing unspeakable benefits in nature, namely, in the case of water. Water contracts according to the law only down to the temperature of forty degrees, while, from that to thirtytwo degrees, which is its freezing point, it again dilates. A very curious consequence of this peculiarity is exhibited in the wells of the glaciers of Switzerland and elsewhere, namely, that when once a pool or shallow well on the ice commences, it goes on quickly, deepening itself until it penetrates to the earth beneath. Supposing the surface of the water originally to have been nearly the temperature of the melting ice, or thirty-two degrees, but to be afterwards heated by the air and sun, instead of the water being thereby dilated or specifically higher, and detained at the surface, it becomes heavier the more nearly it is heated to forty degrees, and therefore sinks down to the bottom of the pit or well; but there, dissolving some of the ice, and being consequently cooled, it is again rendered lighter, and rises to be heated as before, again to descend; and this circulation and digging cannot cease until the water has bored its way quite through.-Arnott's Elements of Physics. ter. ful, but its possession very pleasant. VIRTUE. Virtue is the queen of labourers; Opinion the mistress of fools; Vanity the pride of Nature; and Contention the overthrow of families. Virtue is not obtained in seeking THE EAGLE AND THE CAT.-An eagle, some years ago, strange countries, but by mending old errors. Pythagoras combuilt her nest in the stupendous cliffs of the Ord of Caithness. pares Virtue to the letter Y, which is small at the foot, and Happening one day to fall in with a cat in the vicinity of a neigh-broad at the head; meaning, that to attain Virtue is very painbouring village, the eagle pounced upon puss, and carrying her off, dropped her into the nest, in the midst of the eaglets, immediately setting off in quest of more game. The cat recovering from her surprise, and exasperated by the rough treatment she had received, fell upon the defenceless eaglets, and tore them to pieces. Having finished the work of destruction, puss surveyed the overhanging cliffs, and finding a path in a crevice, made he way up with much tugging and many desperate leaps.Shortly after she found her way home, and was received with great joy by her friends at the village, who had witnessed her abduction. KNOWLEDGE. Knowledge may be defined to be the possession of truth. Upon the importance of knowledge, it is, happily, in the present age, unnecessary to dilate with any great prolixity. The uses of Knowledge are numberless and sublime; confined to no class, peculiar to no country, but interesting to all, upon whom the Deity hath bestowed the valuable and incomparable gift of reason. IGNORANCE. There was a time when Ignorance could scarcely be called a vice. In the dark ages, Ignorance was a matter of necessity with the great bulk of mankind; and we RECEIPT FOR KEEPING BUTTER SWEET.-Butter may be pre-ought rather to pity the mistaken notions and rude ferocity of served sweet for several years by the following receipt: (it never manners to which that ignorance gave rise, as inevitable consegets hard or brittle by the process but still looks like butter taken quences of a cause over which our ancestors had no control, from the churn, it must not be used for a month after making,) than to ridicule the former, or declaim against the latter. But ten ounces of common salt made very fine, two ounces of salt in the present enlightened state of our country, the meanest petre, two ounces of the best brown sugar, those must be well among us has no excuse for being ignorant. To the poorest mixed together; to each pound of butter add one ounce of this and humblest of England's sons and daughters, means of informixture, it must be well worked up, packed close and well mation and improvement are now accessible, which, in the earkept. lier and darker ages, did not exist, even for the wealthy and noble Designed for the Irish Penny Magazine, by Samuel Lover, Esq. R. H. A. ILLUSTRATIONS OF NATIONAL PROVERBS.-No. V. [BY SAMUEL LOVER, ESQ. R. H. A.] IT was one of those cold and damp mornings peculiar to our climate in the early spring months, that a hack jaunting-car drove up Mount-street, just as the watchman was drawling out, in the usual sleepy tone that distinguishes his fraternity, "five o'cla-u-c-k." Two men were seated on the car, and whether any appearance about them or their vehicle excited the suspicion of the watchman, I know not, but he called out to the driver, as he passed him, "what's that you have on the car." "Go ax," was the laconic and polite reply. This indignity stimulated the watchman into activity, and as he starte 1 after them, in what was really a very decent run for a watchman, he exclaimed, "a ha, you morodin' villians, I know what you're afther, you sack-'em-up vagabones, but I'll pin yiz yet if yiz don't stop;" and he was about to spring his rattle when the car was pulled up, as if, he flattered himself, in obedience to his mandate. When he came up with it, he poked his pole into the well of the car to ascertain what was there, but some hay and a piece of coarse canvas was all he discovered. "Well," said the driver, "you got a power, to be suremaybe it's the Lord Mayor you expected to find there." "No; it's not the Lord Mayor I expected to find there," said the watchman. "Well, I dare say, you thought you'd recover a corporation, any how; but your out you see, like the lamps,"-which certainly were out before they should have been, and just at the time when light is particularly necessary in a city. The second man had, during this scolding match jumped from the car, and interrupted further conversation by knocking loudly at the door opposite to which the car stopped, and the driver, as the discomfited watchman walked away, said, "go home, bulky, go home to the unfort'nate woman that owns you.Faix its long before you'd be so particlar wid a thief that was crassin the arya (area) rails." "Five o'cl-a-u-c-k!!" was the reply of the watchman, as he walked back past the house, with his nose peeping out from the collar of his frieze coat, and his pole tucked under his arm, as his hands had renewed their close acquaintance with each other, under the sleeve of each opposite arm. "Who's there?" again was asked from the window. "It's the car, your honour," was the answer. "Confound you, why were you not here sooner? The coach starts a quarter before six. I told you to be here before five." "Oh, we'll be there in no time, sir-I've brought you up a rale good car, your honor-the finest car in Dublin-the rale pick o' the sieve, and a horse that'll rowl you lively." "I'm afraid I'll be late, and if so I'll not give you a sixpence;" and the head was withdrawn from the window. In the course of some time, the drawing of bolts inside the door preceded the appearance of the person who had ordered this car to be in attendance, and he began abusing Peter Molloy, for it was he, for not being with him at the time he promised."I would not mind," said the gentleman, "only I have such a quantity of luggage. I wanted to be at the coach-office early, in time to have it packed; and now I fear I will barely catch the coach before it starts.' "Oh, never fear, your honour, we'll be in plenty time,"which is the universal answer on occasions when it is very doubtful that one may not be late. So the luggage was flung on the car, and the gentleman mounted on one side, and Peter as luggage guard on the other, and away whipped the driver, endeavouring to urge the miserable hack that was dragging them, into a speed beyond its powers. "What are you beating that unfortunate brute so, for?" said the gentleman. "Oh, sir, I'm only takin' the consait out of her," was the answer:-the miserable animal was only fit to throw to hounds. "I thought your honor was in a hurry.' "Yes, but I don't want you to cut the flesh off your unfortunate horse." "Ah! she's a rogue your honour. Hurrup-posey-step out Here another loud application of the knocker was made to your sowl!-show the blood that's in you: and certainly as the hall-door, and the squeeling sound of a raised window-sash far as drawing it out of her with a whip could effect it, he enwas heard immediately after, and a head in a night-cap was pro-deavoured to do so, and some more whipping and stumbling truded from the window, with the half-startled, half-sleepy ques- brought them into Sackville-street just as the coach was about. tion of "who's there?" to start. Here, a heavily laden coach was surrounded by the usual quantity of beggars and news-venders, the hurrying coachman, the growling guard, the busy ostlers, and idle lookers-on, notwithstanding the earliness of the hour, and a very extraordinary and disjointed jumble of questions and answers was to be heard on all sides, and I will attempt a sketch of it. "Hillo there!" shouted the coachman to the guard" bad luck to you, Norton, what delays you?" "The Despatch! The Telegraphic Despatch !" was answered by a news-man. The coach was going to start, as the gentleman already spoken of, jumped off the car and called to the coachman to stop. "Get up then at once, sir, if you please, for we're past our time already." "I must get up my luggage first," said the gentleman. "Oh! gogs blakey, sir," said the coachman, "why worn't you at the office sooner, and you with luggage?" "This fellow I desired to call me was late; its not my fault, and we drove as quickly as we could." "The next time you're in a hurry, sir," said the coachman, "I'd recommend you to get a horse with four legs." The driver of the car here stood up for the honor of his horse, and said, “you're a great judge, to be sure, an' so you are, of fore legs, but be my sowl it would be well for your passengers that your horses hadn't hind legs, as the gentleman knows that you tumbled off o' the box-sate last Sathurday among the heels o' the wheelers, when you set them kickin' by the dose o' whipcord you gave them down by Drumcondra-bridge." "You lie, you calumnivatin' blackguard!" said the ooach man, as he made a cut of his whip at him. "Oh, yes!--your mighty ready wid your whip-cord, sure enough, an' it's well known o' you-by gor you kill more every year nor a 'potticary 'amost, by upsettin' the coach and I wondher Mr. Purcell keeps you." "Who wants the Registher-The Mornin' Registher, and Counsellor O'Connell's grand Speech, in answer to the King's Speech." "Bad cess to you, I wish you had lost your speech," said the guard, as he passed to and fro, "you're moidherin' me, so you are, all the mornin' with your shoutin'." "Who wants The Registher?" said the news-man. "I want my place," said the gentleman. "Then you had betther buy a Sandhers,* from me, and may be you'd find it in that, sir," said the fellow, with that readiness of repartee so remarkable in his class. "Who wants The Freeman ?" shouted another. "Ireland wants every one that'll stand to her," returned the former fellow again. A nervous and lank gentleman, muffled in coats and shawls seated on the box, became very fidgitty from the moment the carman had made the allusion to the coachman's propensity to whipping, and having beckoned to the former to approach, he questioned him further on the subject. "Oh! sir, it's only a little partic'lar he is about the number of his passengers, and as he is innocent o' larnin', and divii burn his schoolmaster for that same, he can't read the way-bill, sir, to see how many passengers he has, and so when he wants to count them, he's obliged to spread them out an the road.” "He upsets them you mean," said the nervous gentleman. "Oh, I wouldn't say that for the world, sir," said the carman, with more mischief in the tone of his denial, than the direct assertion would have conveyed. "Oh, don't b'lieve him, sir," said the coachman, "it's the blackest o' lies the vagabone is tellin' you. I say, Norton," addressing the guard, "will you drive that blackguard out o' that." Aye, dhrive-there it is again, sir,-you heerd him," said the fellow, laughing in intense delight as he saw the gentleman's fear and the coachman's anger increased. "It's for drivin' he is -faix he dhrives so hard he sometimes laves his passengers behind, like the sojer last week at Swords." "Was he killed?" said the trembling box-seat passenger. "Oh, no, sir, he only had his legs broke." "Coachman," said the gentleman, "if you dare to drive too fast I'll complain of you to your employers." "Arrah, sir, never mind the miscrayant." "Oh! it's thruth I'm tellin' you, sir," said the carman, "and sure he knows himself 'twas only last week he dhruv agin the" "Post! Evening Post !", said the news-man. "He dhruv agin the Widow Waddy's pig, and made bacon of him, and made jommethry o' the passengers." "Coachman!!" said the nervous man again, "if you drive faster than"— "The Mail-The Evenin' Mail!" shouted the news-man. Here a beggar-woman put in her word—“Ah! gintleman dear, extind your charity to the poor woman-a little thrifle, your honor, to the poor woman, gintleman dear, that is in disthress." The "gintleman dear," was in distress, indeed, for his fears were seriously awakened for his personal safety. She changed her hand, now, and tried another, whose mili tary cap and cloak bespoke a man of war; he was, however, only a linen-draper, given to finery. Ah, sir dear, with the cap-ah, iligant captain, won't you bestow a thrifle an the poor widdy and the dissolute orphans?" The captain took no notice, but was engaged in endeavouring to light a cigar, which afterwards made him sick. "Ah, iligant captain wid the goold an' your cap" 66 Ah, lave him alone," said an old bitter hag who saw the case was hopeless-"lave him alone, I tell you-by my sowl he's more goold an his cap than in his pocket.” "Why then," said the guard to Peter, where do you think I'm to put all this luggage." 66 Put it in the boot," said the gentleman who owned it. "The fore boot is full," said the guard. "Well put it in the hind boot," said the gentleman. "The hind boot is full too," said the guard. "Well, thry the top boot," said Peter, pointing to the roof of the coach. May the divil run a huntin' wid you and your top boot," said the guard in a passion. "Throth an' its top boots he'd have, if he did run a huntin'," said Peter. "Why bad cess to you don't you see there's not room for half o' this thievin' luggage?" said the guard, "by this and that it would puzzle a counsellor to pack another box on it, let alone this heap o' things." "Badd seran to you," said the coachman, “will you ever let me start!--throw them up any way, and let me be goin'." "Throth, then, if I was goin' wid you, it's myself that id like to have some one to tache you your business," said the carman. "Who have you to show you the way ?" "The Pilot! The Pilot!" shouted the newsman. "Hand me up that other trunk now," said the guard-“ by all that's good the coach is more like a dhray than a coach, wid all the luggage that's on it-is there any more of it?" No; that's the last," said Peter. 66 “Are you sure you put up the leather portmanteau ?" "Oh! yes sir," said a stander-by, seen the guard put that up the first." This person was Tom, who had been talking with the carman for a few seconds previously. "Now then, we're all right," said the guard. "You may be off when you plaze." "Oh, musha!" shouted the coachman, "I'm ruinated! Norton." "What's ruinated you?" said the guard. "The Times! The Times!" shouted the newsman. "I've broke my whip," said the coachman, "an the head o' that blackguard carman that was tantalizin' me. You must borrow me one o' Tom Toole's out o' the office." This was done accordingly, and the coach rolled heavily away to the mu sic of the guard's horn, as it awoke the echoes of the yet almost empty streets. The little knot of persons dispersed from before the coach-office, and the noise and bustle was succeeded by silence and loneliness. The scene must now be changed to a cellar, in a remote lane. Three men descended the broken steps that led to the wretched abode, and, entering the dark and smoky den, saluted by the title of Black Bet, a woman who welcomed them; and seated themselves at a low table near a bad fire, and called for their "morning." "An' bitther cowld it is, by the same token, and a gum tichlar will be as welkim as the flowers in May." The three men were Peter Molloy, his friend Tom, and the car-driver, who had come hither to get a “dhrop o' somethin'," by way of breakfast. The cellar where they sat was in an obscure place, where secrecy, if required, might be found by those who needed it, and the woman who presided in the sanctuary was a priestess worthy of the place. After the bottle had been circulated twice round the company, Tom drew something There is always an extensive collection of advertisements of forward that he had not hitherto brought into notice, and said, "Places Wanted," in the paper so named. "we may as well see what we have got here ;" and so saving he pulled from a corner behind him, where he had thrown it on his entrance, a portmanteau. "Where did you get that?" said Peter, cacting a sharp look upon it. "I found it among the hay in the car," said Tom. "Oh, murther!" said Peter, "why its the gentleman's portmantle that he has forgot." "Well," said Tom, " and why didn't he mind it betther?" "Why," said Peter, “I heerd you yourself tell him you saw it put up first." Well, I thought I did," said Tom, making a grimace at the same time to the car-driver, "but I never found out the mistake till we got here, and now there's no help for it." "Oh, but I can lave it at the coach-office for him," said Peter, "for, I suppose, they know who he is." "Arrah! how would they know who he is?" said Tom, "and besides he'll never miss it out the power o' luggage he has.Throth he ought to be obliged to us for easing him o' the care of it;" and he proceeded, with great coolness, to cut open the portmanteau with a large clasp knife he drew from his pocket. "Oh, Tom," said Peter, "by dad, I don't like that at all;" and he endeavoured to prevent the act. "Who axed you whether you liked it or not," said the ruffian, "sure it's not your doin', you fool-what business have you to know anything about it?" "Oh! but I had the care o' the gentleman's luggage." "Ay, and good care you took of it, in throth,-oh, you're a bright junius, Pether!" and the villain laughed horribly at the startled Peter, as the portmanteau was ripped asunder and its contents fell on the floor. Peter was quite unprepared for such a desperate act as this, though he had no reason, of late, to believe Tom to be overgood, and began to wish he had attended in this, as in all former instances, to his mother's advice. He said he would not have anything to do in such a transaction, and left the cellar followed by the laughter and curses of Tom and the carman, who was an acquaintance of his, to whom he had introduced Peter, and the two names that Peter heard himself last called, as he gained the top of the cellar steps, were "fool" and "coward." "I am a fool, indeed," said Peter, as he quitted the lane, " but I'm no coward, as I'll prove to them, nor worse than a coward-and that's an informer. I won't turn an informer anyhow. Maybe it won't be found out, or maybe it will; but at all events, not through me, but from this blessed hour, though I won't betray him, I'll have no more to do with that bad fellow, Tom. Oh! mother dear, mother aear, you were right, as you always were, in the advice you gave me. I have been supping with the Devil, indeed, and not with a long spoon, I'm afraid; but long or short I'll not sup with him again. I'm done with Tom from this out." In this resolution Peter persevered but alas! the resolution came too late. Biddy still continued her acquaintance with Tom, and from him she obtained, as presents, some of the plunder of the portmanteau. The loss of this article was of too much importance to its owner to be left unheeded. The police were informed of the robbery, and put on the search, and the articles given to Biddy were found in Peter's room, and identified as some of the missing property. I shall not attempt to describe the affecting scene that took place when the unfortunate mother saw her son taken away by the police, to be lodged in jail. "Little did I think," said the bereaved woman, "when I had you at my breast, that I was only rearing you to disgrace and ruin. Oh! Peter, Peter, why didn't you mind the words of the mother that loved you and watched over you from your cradle? You tell me that you are innocent of all this wickedness, and I believe you are, my poor misguided boy; but oh, Peter! why didn't you mind the cautions I gave you? Often and often I told you what the end of it would be, and you see, Peter alanna, that Long threatening comes at last." THE HUMOUROUS MAN. You shall know the man I speak of by the vivacity of his eye, the morn-elastic' tread of his foot, the lightness of his brow, and the dawning smile of pleasantry in his countenance. The muscles of his mouth, unlike those of Monsieur Melancholy, (whose mouth has a downward drag austere,') curl upward like a Spaniard's mustachios. He is a man who cares for nothing so much as a 'mirth-moving jest;' give him that, and he has food and raiment.' He will not see what men have to care for, beyond to-day; and is for To-morrow's providing for himself. He is also for a new reading of Johnson's old play of Every Man in his Humour;' he would have it Every Man in Humour! He leaves money and misery to misers; ambition and blood to warriors and highwaymen; fame, to court-laureates and lord-mayors; honours, to court-panders and city knights; the dread of death, to such as are not worthy of life; the dread of heaven, to those who are not good enough even for earth; the grave, to parish-clerks and undertakers; tombs, to proud worms; and palaces to paupers. It is enough for him if he may laugh the hours away;' and break a jest, where tempers more humourous break a head. He would not barter with you one wakeful jest for a hundred sleepy sermons; or one laugh for a thousand sighs. He says, that if he could allow himself to sigh about any thing, it would be that he had been serious when he might have laughed; if he could weep for any thing, it would be for mankind, because they will not laugh more and lament less. Yet he hath tears for the orphan and the unhappy; but his tears die even where they are born,-in his heart of hearts;' he makes no show of them; like April showers, they refresh where they fall, and turn to smiles, as all tears will that are not selfish. His grief has a humanity in it, which is not satisfied with tears only; it teaches him the difference between poverty and riches, between wealth and want, and moves his heart to pity, and his hand to charity. He loves no face more than a smiling one; a needlessly serious one serves him for the kindling of his wit,-as cold flints strike out sparks of fire. His humour shows itself to all men, and on all occasions. I found him once bowing on the stairs to a poor alarmed devil of a rat, who was cringing up in a corner; he was offering him the retreat honourable, with a polite "After you, Sir, if you would oblige me." I settled the point of etiquette, by kicking the rat down stairs, and received a frown from my humane friend, for my impatient inhumanity. It must have been my humourous friend, and not the atrabilarious Bard of Twickenham, who, coming to a corn-field, pulled off his hat, and bowing profoundly, requested of his wheaten audience, that, as he was a poor poet, they would lend him their ears. His opinions of men and things have some spice of singularity in them. He conceives it to be a kind of puppyism in pigs that they wear tails. He defines a great coat to be a modern Spenser, in folio, with tail-pieces. He calls Hercules a man-midwife, in a small way of business; because he had but twelve labours. He can tell you why Horace ran away from the battle of Philippi: it was to convince the Romans that he was not a lame poet. He describes critics to be a sort of doorkeepers to the temple of fame; and says it is their business to see that no persons slip in with holes in their stockings, or paste buckles for diamond ones-not that they always perform this duty honestly. He asserts that the highest delight on this side the grave is to possess a pair of bagpipes, and know that no one within forty miles can play them. Acting up to this whim, be bought a pair of a Scotch bag-piper, a poor Highlander, giving him five guineas for them; which, as he boasted, sent him home like a gentleman to Scotland, where he had, no doubt, purchased a landed estate, and was in a probable way of coming into Parliament for a Scotch borough. And here he somewhat varied the old proverb, by saying, that "It was an ill bagpipe that blowed nobody good.", Indeed, if he quotes a proverb at all, it is, 'with a difference.' He is a polite man, though a wit-which is not what wits usually are; they would rather lose a life than a joke. I have heard him express his detestation of those wits who sport with venomed weapons, and wish them the fate of Laertes, who, in his encounter with Hamlet, had his weapon changed, and was himself wounded with the poisoned foil designed for his antagonist. I mean, by saying he is a polite man, that he is naturally, not artificially, polite; for the one is but a handsome, frank-looking mask, under which you conceal the contempt felt for the person you seem most diligent to please; it is a giltedged envelope to a blank valentine; a shell without a nut; a courtezan in a fair Quaker's chaste satinity and smooth sleekness; the arch-devil in a domino :-the other is, as he describes it, taking the hat and cloak of your heart off, and standing uncovered and unconcealed in the presence of worth, beauty, or any other amiable quality. Thus he unites humour with seriousness, and seriousness with humour. In short, he is a humane man; and humanity is the only true politeness. I have seen him ridicule that politeness which contents itself with bowing and bending the back very humourously. |