It would be absolute injustice to this story to rifle it farther. The Pig Driver is a felicitous sketch of Paddy's power of blarneying and com. ing over the complacent self-conceit of John Bull. It is not in the least probable, and yet true. We forbear quoting the French apophthegm of the true and the true-like. The Essay on Irish Swearing is a clever dissertation, after the manner of Miss Edgeworth's on Irish Bulls; the Geography of an Irish oath, is one of the best stories of the series. Its merits comprehend excellence of all kinds; shrewdness, humour, pathos, and an exquisite discrimination of commonplace character. Peter Connell, a good-natured, honest, industrious boy, though not of the brightest parts, has the good luck to marry a shrewd, sensible woman, and a really excellent manager, who, in the course of a long life, is guilty of no greater offence against prudence than marrying Peter, the keeper of a shebeen house, when only twenty guineas, the exhaustless fortune of an Irish labourer, has been "put to the fore." Peter had been the confidential servant of an illicit distiller, and had become an adept in knowledge of the process, and in cheating gaugers. Let us take a view of this family party towards the close of the honey-moon.

"Pether,' said Ellish, its like a dhrame to me that you're neglecting your business, alanna.'

"Is it, you beauty? but, maybe, you'd first point out to me what business, barrin' buttherin' up yourself, I have to mind, you phanix bright?"

«Quit yourself, Pether! it's time for you to give up your ould ways; you caught one bird wid them, an' that's enough. What do you intind to do? It's full time for you to be lookin' about you.'

"Lookin' about me! What do you mane, Ellish ?'

"The dickens a bit o' me thought of it," replied the wife, laughing at the unin tentional allusion to the circumspect character of Peter's eyes, upon my faix, I did'nt ha, ha, ha!'

"Why, thin, but you're full o' your fun, sure enough, if that's what you're at. Maybe, avourneen, if I had looked right afore me, as I ought to do, it's Katty Mur. ray an' her snug farm I'd have, instead of'

"Peter hesitated. The rapid feelings of a woman and an Irishwoman, quick and tender, had come forth and subdued him. She had not voluntarily alluded to his eyes; but she immediately expressed that sorrow and submission which are most powerful when accompanied by innocence, and when meekly assumed to pacify ra ther than to convince. A tear started to her eye, and with a voice melted into unaffected tenderness, she addressed him, but he scarcely gave her time to speak.

«No, avourneen, no, I won't say what I was goin' to mintion. I won't, indeed, Ellish, dear; an' forgive me for voundin' your feelin's, alanna dhas. Hell resave her and her farm! I dunna what put her into my head at all; but I thought you wor jokin' me about my eyes; an' sure if you war, accushla, that's no rason that I'd not allow you to do that and more wid your own Pether. Give me a slewsther," agrah-a sweet one, now!'

"He then laid his mouth to hers, and immediately a sound nearly resembling a pistol shot was heard through every part of the house. It was, in fact, a kiss upon a scale of such magnitude and magnificence, that the Emperor of Morocco might not blush to be charged with it. A reconciliation took place, and in due time it was determined, that Peter, as he understood poteen, should open a shebeen-house.

"The moment this resolution was made, the wife kept coaxing him, until he took a small house at the cross-roads before alluded to, where, in the course of a short time, he was established, if not in his own line, yet in a mode of life approximating to it as nearly as the inclination of Ellish would permit. The cabin which they oc cupied had a kitchen in the middle, and a room at each end of it, in one of which was their own humble chaff bed, with its blue quilted drugget cover; in the other, stood a couple of small tables, some stools, a short form, and one chair, being a present from his father-in-law. These constituted Peter's whole establishment, so far as it defied the gauger. To this we must add a five-gallon keg of spirits hid in the garden, and a roll of smuggled tobacco."

* A kiss of fondness.

In what follows, we have an amusing exemplification of the feminine white arts and powers of persuasion, which finally made a man of Peter Connell.

"When they had been about two or three years thus employed, Peter, at the soli-
citation of the wife, took a small farm.

"You're stout an' able,' said she; an' as I can manage the house widout you,
wouldn't it be a good plan to take a bit o' ground-nine or ten acres, suppose-an'
thry your hand at it?
Sure you wor wanst the greatest man in the parish about a
farm. Surely that 'ud be dacenter nor to be slungein' about, invintin' truth and lies
for other people, when they're at their work, to make them laugh, an' you doin' no-
thin' but standin' over thim, wid your hands down to the bottom o' your pockets?
Do, Pether, thry it, avick, an' you'll see it'll prosper wid us, plase God.'
"Faix, I'm ladin' an easier life, Ellish.'

"But are you ladin' a dacinter or a more becominer life?'

"Why, I think, widout doubt, that it's more becominer to walk about like a gintleman, nor to be workin' like a slave.'

"Gintleman! Musha, is it to the fair you're bringin' yourself? Why, you great big bosthoon, is'nt it both a sin an' a shame to see you sailin' about among the neighbours, like a shtray turkey, widout a hand's turn to do? But, any way, take my advice, a villish-will you, aroon ?-an' faix you'll see how rich we'll get, wid a blessin' I'

"Ellish, you're a deludher!'

"Well, an' what suppose? To be sure I am. Usen't you to be followin' me, like a calf afther the finger ?-ha, ha, ha!-Will you do my biddin', Pether darlin'?'

"Peter gave her a shrewd, significant wink, in contradiction to what he considered the degrading comparison she had just made.

"Ellish, you're beside the mark, you beauty; always put the saddle on the right horse, woman alive! Did'nt you often and often swear to me, upon two green ribbons acrass one another, that you liked a red head best, an' that the redder it was, you liked it the betther."

"An' it was thruth, too; an' sure, by the same a token, where could I get one half so red as your own? Faix, I knew what I was about! I would't give you yet for e'er a young man in the parish, if I was a widow to-morrow. Will you take the land ?'

"So thin, afther all, if the head had'nt been an me, I would'nt be a favourite wid you? ha, ha, ha!'

"Get out wid you, an' spake sinse. Throth, if you don't say aither ay or no, I'll give myself no more bother about it. There we are now, wid some guineas toget her, anFaix, Pether, you're vexin' me!'

"Do you want an answer?'

"Why, if it's plasin' to your honour, I'd have no objection.'

"Well, will you have my new big-coat made agin Shraft 2'*

"Ay will I, in case you do what I say; but if you dan't the sarra stitch of it'll

go to your back this twelvemonth, maybe, if you vex me!

66

Now!'

Well, I'll tell you what: my mind's made up-I will take the land; an' I'll shew the neighbours what Pether Connell can do yit.'

Augh! augh! mavourneen that you wor! Throth, I'll fry a bit o' the bacon for our dinner to-day, on the head o' that, although I did'nt intind to touch it till Sunday. Ay, faix, an' a pair o' stockin's, too, along wid the coat; an' somethin' else, that you did'nt hear of yit!'

"Ellish, in fact, was a perfect mistress of the science of wheedling; but as it ap pears instinctive in the sex, this is not to be wondered at.'"

Our next extract explains some of the uses to which stories of this character may be turned. Peter took his small farm, and exerted himself so manfully in its cultivation, that Ellish, determined not to be outdone in the race of industry, with her odd savings purchased a load of crockery, which as taken from the car, she piled in proud array before the astonished Peter. This appearance of thrift, and the mending prospects of the family, arising from the sagacity, enterprise, and industry

* Shrovetide.

of the wife, might have affected a Scotch or an English husband, much in the same agreeable manner that they did honest Peter Connell; but the conjugal scene of banter, gaiety, and rustic badinage that ensues, is rich in the flavour of the sod, and could only, at least after some years of the sobering state of matrimony, have been enacted by an Irish couple, and in Ireland.

"I knew, said she, 'I'd take a start out o', you. Faix, Pether, you'll see how I'll do, never fear, wid the help o' Heaven? I'll be off to the market in the mornin', plase God, where I'll sell rings round me o' them crocks an' pitchers. An' now, Pether, the sarra one o' me would do this, good or bad, only bekase you're managin' the farm so cleverly. Tady Gormley's goin' to bring home his meal from the mill, and has promised to lave these in the market for me, an' never fear but I'll get some o' the neighbours to bring them home, so that there's car-hire saved. Faix, Pether, there's nothin' like givin' the people sweet words, any way; sure they come chape.' "Faith, an' I'll back you for the sweet words, agin any woman in the three kingdoms, Ellish, you darlin'. But don't you know the proverb, sweet words butther no parsnips.'

"In throth the same proverb's a lyin' one, and ever was; but its not parsnips I'll butther wid 'em, you gommoch.'

"Sowl, you butthered me wid 'em long enough, you deludher-devil a lie in it; but then, as you say, sure enough, I was no parsnip not so soft as that aither, you phanix!'

"No? Thin I sildom seen your beautiful head widout thinkin' of a carrot, an' it's well known they're related-ha, ha, ha! Behave, Pether-behave, I say--Pe ther, Pether-ha, ha, ha!—let me alone! Katty Hacket, take him away from me -ha, ha, ha!'

"Will ever you, you shaver wid the tongue that you are? Will ever you, I say? Will ever you make delusion to my head agin-eh ?'

"Oh, never, never; but let me go, an' me so full o' tickles: 0, Pether avourneen, don't, you'll hurt me, an' me in the way I'm in—quit, avillish !'

"Bedad, if you don't let my head alone, I'll-will ever you?'

"Never, never. There now-ha, ha, ha!-oh, but I'm as wake as wather wid what I laughed. Well, now, Pether, didn't I manage bravely-did'nt I?' "Wait till we see the profits first, Ellish-crockery's very tindher goods,' "Ay!-jist wait, an' I'll engage, I'll turn the penny. The family's risin' wid

ug'

“Very thrue,' replied Peter, giving a sly wink at the wife-'no doubt of it.' Risin' wid us-I tell you to have sinse, Pether; an' its our duty to have some thing for the crathurs when they grow up.'

Well, that's thruth-sure I'm not sayin' aginst it.'

"I know that; but what I say is, if we hould an we may make money. Every thing, for so far, has thruv wid us, God be praised for it! There's another thing in my mind, that I'll be tel in' you some o' these days.'

I believe, Ellish, you dhrame about makin' money.'

"Well, an' I might do worse; when I'm dhramin' about it, I'm doin' no sin to But, listen, you must keep the house to-morrow while I'm at the market. Won't you, Pether.'

any one.

"An' who's to open the dhrain in the bottom below.'

"That can be done the day afther. Won't you, abouchal?'

"Ellish, you're a deludher, I tell you. Sweet words! sowl, you'd smooth a furze bush wid sweet words. How-an'-ever, I will keep the house to-morrow, till we see the great things yon'll do wid your crockery.""

We must follow Ellish to the market, with her wares and her short red petticoat, blue stockings, strong brogues, blue cloak, and man's hat fastened below her chin with a ribbon; a proper virago, with a kind word and a joke for, every customer, her healthy cheek in full bloom, and her blue-grey eye beaming with an expression of fun and good nature, "a favourite not the less that she was as ready to meet her rivals in business with a blow as with a joke." The scene which we now extract, proves what few persons above the rank of Ellish, and, in particular, few women, would ever believe out of book,-that an Irish char

woman, huxter, or costermonger, though ready of her tongue, and not slack of her hand, may, notwithstanding these little faults, be an affectionate and discreet wife, a fond mother, and, in her own rank, a most valuable member of society. While such delineations of character impart knowledge, they teach charity, and are thus a most valuable kind of book-learning. Ellish, by her independent exertions, effectually stimulated the pride of Peter, and urged him to keener industry. He had originally dug his potato ground wholly with his spade, and har rowed in the seed of his little field with a thorn bush; but Ellish had now (in two years) bought him a horse, and he had got a plough and tackle." "The sarra one o' you, Pether,' she exclaimed to him one day, but's batin' me out an' out. Why, you're the very dickens at the farmin', so you are. Faix, I suppose, if you go an this way much longer, that you'll be thinkin' of another farm, in regard that we have some guineas together. Pether, did you ever think of it, abouchal ?

66

"To be sure I did, you beauty; an' amn't I in fifty notions to take Harry Neil's land, that jist lies along side of our own.'

"Faix, an' you're right, maybe; but if its sthrivin' agin me you are, you may give it over: I tell you, I'll have more money made afore this time twelvemonth than you will.'

"Arrah, is it jokin' you are? More money? Would you advise me to take Harry's land? Tell me that first, you phanix, an' thin I'm your man!'

"Faix, take your own course, avourneen. If you get a lase of it at a fair rint, I'll buy another horse, anyhow. Is'nt that doin' the thing dacent ?"

"More power to you, Ellish! I'll hould you a crown, I pay you the price o' the horse afore this time twelvemonth.'

"Done! The sarra be off me, but done! an' here's Barny Dillon an' Katty Hacket to beer witness.'

"Sure enough we will,' said Barny, the servant.

"I'll back the misthress, any money,' replied the maid.

"Two to one on the masther,' said the man. "Whoo! our side o' the house for ever! Come, Pether, hould up your head, there's money bid for you!'

"Ellish, I'll fight for you, ancle deep,' said Katty-depind you're life an me.' "In the name o' goodness, thin, it's a bargain,' said Ellish; an' at the end o' the year, if we're spared, we'll see what we'll see. We'll have among ourselves a little sup o' tay, plase Goodness, an' we'll be comfortable. Now, Barny, go an' draw home thim phaties from the pits while the day's fine; and, Katty, a colleen, bring in some wather, till we get the pig killed and scalded-it'll hardly have time to be good bacon for the big markets at Christmas. I don't wish,' she continued, to keep it back from them that we have a thrifle o' money. One always does betther when it's known that they're not strugglin'. There's Nelly Cummins,-an' her customers is lavin' her, an' dalin' wid me, bekase she's goin' down in business. Ay, an' Pether, a hagur, it's the way o' the world!'

"Well, but Ellish, don't you be givin' Nelly Cummins the harsh word, or lanin' too heavily upon her, the crathur, merely in regard that she is goin' down. Do you hear, a colleen?'

"Indeed I don't do it, Pether; but you know she has a tongue like a razor at times, and whin it gets loose she'd provoke St. Pether himself. Thin she's takin' to the dhrink, too, the poor misfortunate vagabone!'

"Well, well, that's no affair o' yours, nor mine aither-only dont be risin' ruc-
tions and norrations wid her. You threwn a jug at her the last day you war out,
an' hot the poor ould Potticary as he was passin'. You see I hard that, though you
kep it close from me!-ha, ha, ha!'

"Ha, ha, ha!-why you'd split, if you had seen the crathur whin he fell into
Pether White's brogue-creels, wid his heels up. But what right had she to be
sthrivin' to bring away my customers afore my face? Ailey Dogherty was buyin' a
crock wid me, an' Nelly shouts over to her from where she sot like a prince on her
tool, Ailey,' says she, here's a betther one for three fardens less, an' another far-
den 'ill get you a penn'orth o' salt. An', indeed, Ailey walks over, manely enough,
an' tuck her at her word. Why, flesh an' blood couldn't bear it !'
"Indeed, an' you're raal flesh an' blood, Ellish, if that bes thrue.'

"Well, but consarnin' what I mintioned awhile agone-hut! the poor mad cra

NO. XI. VOL. II.

2Q

thur, let us have no more discoorse about her-I say, that no one ever thrives so well as when the world sees that they are gettin' an, an' prosperin'; but if there's not an appearance, how will any one know whether we are prosperin' or not, barrin' they see some some sign of it about us; I mane, in a quiet rasonable way, widout show or extravagance. In the name o' Goodness, thin, let us get the house brushed up, an' the out-houses dashed. A bushel or two of lime 'ill make this as white as an egg widin, an' a very small expinse will get it plastered an whitewashed widout. Wouldn't you like it, avourneen? Eh, Pether?"

"To be sure I'd like it. It'll give a respectful look to the house an' place.' "Ay, an' it'll bring customers, that's the main thing. People always like to come to a snug comfortable place. An', plaise God, I'm thinkin' of another plan that I'll soon mintion.'

"An' what may that be, you skamer ?" "

We cannot follow the fortunes of this family till Ellish acquires great wealth, marries a son to the niece, and a daughter to the nephew of the priest, and settles all her children respectably in life. In the death-bed of this well-principled and clear-headed, though now worldly-minded woman, the struggles of the ruling passion, and the influences of long con. firmed habit, are depicted with dramatic skill and force, which would do honour to any writer. The author, however, falls into his habitual error, and by repetitions and lengthened description, labours but too successfully to diminish the powerful impression he makes. The burial of Ellish, the wild grief of Peter, with its interludes of most melancholy mirth and maudlin gaiety, are inimitable in their kind, and as truly Irish as any thing in the volumes. The Lianhan Shee is composed in a more ambitious style. The story, it seems, is a true one; but there is not much to recommend it to the writer of popular and useful fictions, nor to atone for the horror of the catastrophe. Going to Maynooth, with a good deal of quaint humour, is meagre of incident, and not very consistent; and falls into a very natural, but most tame and impotent conclusion. Phelim O'Toole's courtship presents us with the birth, training, and end of a thorough-paced rustic blackguard, interspersed with much that is curious in the manners of the Irish peasantry; but as a whole, it is an unpleasing story. The hero is too degraded and worthless either "to point a moral or adorn a tale." Tubber Derg is far more successful. It is, indeed, one of the most delightful tales which this writer has yet produced. It is a narrative of humble life tried by severe suffering, and sustained and sweetened by the strength and tenderness of the domestic affections. It opens with a clear and beautiful description of the scenery around an Irish high-lying farm in a remote part of the country, and of the fountain from which the farm was named. Owen Macarthy, the young farmer, and his wife, are worthy of their charming abode; they are of the best order of the Irish people, uniting with the national warmth and vivacity of temperament, the steady habits and firm moral principle which are sometimes found defective among their compatriots. They are, moreover, of a good stock, and have some distant claims of lineage, which inspired the honest pride of not disgracing it. Industrious, affectionate, kindly, and benevolent; the best husband, father, and neighbour in his district; sober and steady, Owen already enjoyed the fullest domestic happiness, and bade fair for worldly prosperity, when, by the depression of agriculture which followed the peace, the carelessness of his absentee landlord, and the villany of an agent, he is ruined and sent adrift. The declining circumstances and gradual falling off of poor Owen are painted with the truth and minute fidelity of Crabbe. We are placed at once in the midst of the entanglements and difficulties with which he maintains a hopeless struggle, and under which disease at last prostrates