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questions must be sought in the horrid mis. government of the country, in the blind and misguided policy of England—in the system of atrocious cruelty and contemptible meanness, which has been displayed against the most active and adventurous of nations:

« Moponia! when pature embellish'd the tint

Of thy fields and thy mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print

The footstep of slavery there?” The Irish females of the lower orders are remarkably discreet and correct in their conduct.* At public places, fairs, &c. they will not permit any freedoms from the other sex; and their amusements are rational and diverting. The Rev. Mr. Hill, (in his Tour through Ireland,) gives a very pleasant instance of female naiveté and innocence, as well as superstitious attachment to priests. A beautiful girl of about 15, who took him for a priest, fell on her knees before him on the road. He asked her if she wished any thing—she craved his blessing and advice, and would not rise from her knees. She said that her father and

In Edgeworth's Memoirs, lately published, we find some consolatory observations, about the improvement of the middle classes of gentry in Ireland. After speaking of the general mode of living, manners and information, the author says: “ The gentlemen and ladies are not separated from the time dipper ends, till the midnight hour, when the carriages come to the door to carry off the bodies of the dead; or, till just sense enough being left to find their way straight to the tea-table, the gentlemen could only swallow a hasty cup of cold coffee or stewed tea, and be carried off by their sleepy wives, bappy if the power of reproach were tost in fatigue.”

mother were dead; that she worked in a far mer's house for her victuals; that, having no clothes but those on her back, a farmer in the neighbourhood had offered her a gown and petticoat, and half a guinea for liberty to sleep with her.-She asked

the Reverend gentleman if such a crime would be forgiven? He of course answered, no-and gave her some good advice, and, what was better, money enough to buy clothes without endangering her virtue!

I have had frequent opportunities of observing the veneration which the lower classes in this country have for their Catholic pastors. Their church makes a part of their history; it has drunk deeply of their almost exhaustless cup of bitterness; it has mantled itself with their best affections; it has entrenched itself in their most cherished recollections, and it has nestled itself in their tenderest sympathies. Against such a church, no human power will prevail, although it be only supported by a race of men encumbered with their own numbers, sunk in poverty and struggling with the laws of the land, as with an old and mortal enemy. All their attempts to shake off their odious yoke have hitherto been frustrated; but despair has not laid them entirely prostratethey still look forward to the happy moment of asserting their rights, and of breaking their chains over the heads of their tyrants: “ the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge."

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