189


2
AYS
10
CHES
USH


3.04/01
Harvard College Library

CADEMIAE
VARDIANAE
VE RI
לפורד"
ON
FROM THE GIFT OF
WILLIAM ENDICOTT, JR.
(Class of 1887)
OF BOSTON
BOUND BY
ALWEY&CO
1












Kirkwood & Son. sculp Dublin.
Marriage.
its enjoyments are qualified by sorrows!
like every other sublunary Blessing


ESSAYS,
AND
SKETCHES OF IRISH LIFE
AND CHARACTER;
CONTAINING
THE VARIOUS ARTICLES WHICH APPEARED IN THE WREATH
FROM THE EMERALD ISLE;"
WITH
66
THE HERMIT OF THE LAKES,
&c. &c.
"From grave to gay; from lively to severe.".. Pope.
DUBLIN:
WM. CURRY, JUN. & CO. SACKVILLE-STREET.
GEORGE B. WHITTAKER, LONDON.
OLIVER & BOYD, EDINBURGH.
1827


204.12.9.8
n
HARVARD COLLEGE LIBRARY
OCT 211919
GIFT OF
WILLIAM ENDICOTT, JR.
Moni, Philips Pixon


TO THE READER.
MOST of the following articles appeared in "A
WREATH FROM THE Emerald ISLE ;" which I pub-
lished last year, as "A New Year's Gift," but as
I was unable to get it out at the time when the
other "Christmas Presents" made their appear-
ance, it of course had not that fair opportunity of
circulation or sale, which it might otherwise have
had.
In offering the present edition to the Public, I
have only to observe, that the title it now bears will
be found exactly descriptive of the contents-that
I have added "The Hermit of the Lakes,"-and
that" The Sketches of Irish Cabins," &c. are from
life, and are given from a desire of exciting more
general attention to the comforts of the Irish Cottier;
for, in general, while Irish Gentlemen go to great
expense in erecting stables and pig-styes for their
horses and swine, their tenantry are condemned to
hovels that would disgrace the inhabitants of Caf-
fraria, and compared with which, the wigwams
of the North American Indians are comfortable
dwellings.
PHILIP DIXON HARDY.
24, Eustace-street, Dublin.
Z





1
CONTENTS.
On the Choice of a Wife,
POETRY-Give me the Maid whose gentle Mien,
A Party of Pleasure, or a Trip to the Dargle,
POETRY-Dickey Daw, a True Story,
On Matrimony,
POETRY-The Bachelor and the Husband,
Amelia and Amandis, or a Cure for Love,
POETRY-To Laura, on Parting, ...
A Water Party, or a Voyage to Howth,
Memoranda of Timothy Timmons, incorporated with his
....
....
....
Pedestrian,
POETRY-Echoes of Killarney,
....
....
....
....
....
Log-Book,
POETRY-Lucy Hill, a Sailor's Letter,
Jane Fitz-Charles, or the Effects of Indiscretion, (writ-
ten by a friend,)
POETRY-A Mother to her Infant Daughter,
Wedding of Benjamin Brimmigem, Gentleman, contain-
ing some Particulars of a Matrimonial Excursion to
the County of Wicklow,
POETRY-The Faithful Dog, suggested by an Incident
59
related in Pratt's Gleanings,
Scenes in Ireland-Journal of an Excursion Aquatic and
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
Page.
....
60112822
15
17
23
27
29
37
41
43.
58
71
p
74
102


ii.
CONTENTS.
....
Hints for Promoting Genuine Conversation,
POETRY-The Retrospect,
- A Fragment,
On Poetic Composition-containing Remarks on the
Plagiarisms of Lord Byron,
POETRY-The Feeling Heart
On Novel Writing,
POETRY-To the Reader,
Synonyme,
Music-Irish Melodies,
....
A Medical Prescription,
Requisites for a Governess,
French Epigram,
Infidelity,
....
....
....
POETRY-Character of an Irish Melody,
....
....
....
POETRY-To the New Year,
The Hermit of the Lakes,
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
....
POETRY-Lines presented to his Majesty, on his Visit
to this Country,
The Nervous and Sentimental,
On Dreams,
POETRY-The Stranger's Pillow,
Anecdote of Napoleon Bonaparte,
Autumn,
....
....
....
..
....
..
....
··
....
....
....
....
...
Page.
104
110
111
...
...
112
122
123
127
129
133
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
146
147
149
150
151
* *In page 74, in title, for equatic,' read' aquatic.'
*
The wood engraving, in p. 74, should have been pre-
fixed to the Wedding of Benjamin Brimmigem, p. 59.


ESSAYS,
AND
SKETCHES OF IRISH LIFE, &c.
On the Choice of a Wife.
THAT Marriage is a state in which felicity may
ost certainly be found, is a truth which affection
and experience combine to confirm; but, like every
other sublunary blessing, its enjoyments are quali-
fied by sorrows, anxieties, and disappointments,
which they who enter that state under the happiest
auspices should be prepared to encounter. Those
considerations, therefore, should certainly operate
to a judicious choice of the individual with whom
we associate ourselves in the arduous task of care
and duty-and who for the remainder of life is to
be the partner of our joys and our sorrows.
It has been said, that 'the purest flames burn the
longest and the brightest,' and by an analogy which
experience seldom contradicts, it is found that the
love of woman is not only more lasting than that of
B


2
A WREATH
man, but more devoted: poverty increases its in-
tensity, and exile only makes it strike its roots the
deeper; nor time nor place can alter or diminish it.
It dwells by the bed of sickness with a tender per-
severance, and crowns the humble board with a
luxury that wealth could never purchase. Of the
various attractive elements of natural excellence,
the greater number and the more frequent occur-
rences are found in woman;-the mild eye-the
smooth and gentle brow-the lip that tells of inward.
quiet, are all indications of that serene spirit which
is so well calculated to soothe to peace the mind of
man, continually agitated by the cares and anxie-
ties of life.
Where domestic happiness is the object in view,
the inducements to marriage should not be found
in the splendor of fortune or the bloom of freshness,
riches make unto themselves wings, and flee
away,' and although beauty holds out temptations
which many are unable to resist, still it must be re-
membered that its tenure is proverbially frail, and
they who sacrifice to its fascinations should be
thoroughly prepared for its decay. Nor should the
inducement proceed from the pride of rank or the
scintillations of genius. Powers of talent or bril-
liancy of imagination can never effect the stated
purposes of domestic vigilance; they generally out-
strip the slow march of circumspection, and soar


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
3
into regions where parental superintendance has
never yet penetrated.
True feeling and strong affection, cheerfulness
and activity of disposition, soundness of sense and
sweetness of temper, seem to be those qualities
which afford the surest promise of domestic feli-
city, and the best protection against the incursions
of misfortune, especially where the mind of the
individual is thoroughly imbued with genuine reli-
gious feeling. Such qualities as these impart the
keenest zest to happiness, and most effectually dis-
arm the poignancy of affliction. While the sky is se-
rene, they clothe pleasure with a warmer glow, and
deck felicity with brighter colours; and should the
storms of adversity gather in gloom, or the clouds
of sickness overshadow our path, an individual
possessing such qualifications will be most likely
to speak the language of fortitude and encourage-
ment, evinced in acts of self-sacrifice and genuine
attachment:-
Did I but purpose to embark with thee
On the smooth surface of a summer's sea,
While gentle zephyrs play with prosperous gales,
'And fortune's favours fill the swelling sails-
But would forsake the ship, and make the shore,
When the winds whistle and the tempests roar !
It would be unnecessary to adduce authorities to
prove that hearts rightly touched enter into a moral
compact, which is binding on their affections and


4
A WREATH
dispositions: nor let it be supposed that this inte-
grity, this fervour of feeling, is alone the privilege
of the higher and more cultivated classes;—it burns
as faithfully in the breast of the peasant as of the
prince; nay, perhaps operates more strongly in
bosoms which are uncontaminated by luxurious
indulgence. To such the comforts of a home, and
of that genuine attachment which is never found
out of it, more than compensate the dreams of
aggrandizement and the vanities of display, by
which the minds of others are kept in a state of
feverish excitement.
Those more refined delights which spring from
a conviction of the excellence of the object—the
sensation experienced on beholding the grateful
blush mantling in the cheek of an affectionate wife,
on witnessing the deference paid to her husband in
society, or on hearing him spoken of in terms of
approbation, by the worthy and intellectual-the
mere sensualist or money-hunter can never hope to
experience. In the intimacy of matrimonial life
hypocrisy is quickly detected; and selfishness and
dissimulation soon stand confessed in all their de-
formity, and invariably engender a complete alien-
ation of the affections, if not a perfect hatred and
contempt of the individual. Indeed wherever a
matrimonial connection takes place in which affec-
tion for the object is not the dominant feeling, a


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
5
forced obedience is all that can be expected, and
care and anxiety will consequently usurp the place
of that bland and pure enjoyment which might
otherwise have smoothed the current of domestic
life.
The true criterion of real conjugal affection is
CALAMITY—and it is delightful to think, that altho'
the trial is frequently severe, many have endured it
with unshaken loyalty. It is no doubt consolatory
to the mind of man to feel persuaded that there are
individuals to be met with in life who would brave
the extreme of danger for the objects of their attach-
ment-would cling to them in poverty, and follow
them into exile; whose only solicitude is their hap-
piness, and whose only terror is the fear of surviving
them; but the man who aspires to be loved by
such an object, must bring a better title than any
which can be found in mere rank and fortune-
such advantages may and do influence the gene-
rality of females, while superior endowments can
alone attract and fix the heart and ensure the
blessings which flow from the attachment of a
woman of exalted mind and genuine feeling.
In choosing a partner for life, therefore, unless
such considerations as those alluded to are permit-
ted to have their proper influence, real happiness
cannot possibly be expected. If the exertion be
merely to figure in life-to weave perpetual schemes
B 2


6
A WREATH
of grandeur, and to bustle forward in the tortuous
path of worldly splendor; disappointment and vex-
ation will assuredly be the consequence, and that
which was intended as the solace, will become the
torment of existence.
THE CHOICE.
.
GIVE me the maid whose gentle mien,
And winning smile, and look serene,
Bespeak the calmness of her soul,
Where no fierce varying passions roll;
Whose lively taste and glowing mind.
The charms of science have refin'd;
Who, free from every female art,
With generous, candid, feeling heart,
In all life's cares would bear her part;
Who, if she saw my mind distress'd,
Or with an anxious thought oppress'd,
Would by some soft endearing spell
The gathering storm of feeling quell;
Or, if elate with mirth, would join,
And seek her happiness in mine;


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
Who, with polite and graceful ease,
Would study every guest to please—
And still content with sweets of home,
Would feel nor slightest wish to roam.
If but her bright though timid eye
Be touch'd with sensibility,-
And if but in her form there be,
An air of native dignity-
I care not if the roseate streak
Which mantles on her virgin cheek,
Be light as that soft beam which glows
At evening-tide on Alpine snows!-
With such an one, come wo or weal,
Methinks I still should happy feel;
For sure the summit of life's bliss
Is to possess a friend like this!


00
A WREATH

WHI
ant
A Party of Pleasure,77
OR A TRIP TO THE DARGLE.
"MEN," said Mrs. Borem to her husband, as
they were sitting at breakfast," Men," said she,
pouring out a dish of very weak tea, "have all the
enjoyments and amusements of this world exclu-
sively to themselves. While you, Mr. Borem, are
at your office from nine till four o'clock, diverting
yourself over your accounts, I have to dress, bathe,
and whip the children-go to market, regulate the
dinner, scold Mary the cookmaid, draw the beer
and butter, and have every thing ready for you
exactly at five, when you return to your com-
fortable meal. After that is dispatched, you know
how I study to amuse you with all the little occur-


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
rences of the day, and every other interesting cir-
cumstance that I can, till you go to sleep, or to the
club, or to that bane of all domestic comfort, the
Dublin Library, where men fly from their agreeable
homes and loving wives, to talk politics and such non-
sense, or to read reviews and other kinds of stuff,
instead of staying within of an evening, and playing
a game of spoiled-fives or beggar-my-neighbour.-
In short, Mr. Borem, I think slavery is the lot of
woman! Some, to be sure, are happier than others;
-there's hardly a week passes over Mrs. Daw's
head, whose husband is only a Salesmaster, that
she doesn't go some where or other-to Howth or to
Bullock, or to some pretty rural spot in the country,
by way of recreation and breathing the fresh air ;
while I, poor Grizzle, never taste a breeze that has
not passed over half a dozen breweries, anatomy-
houses and tan-yards; or see any more of fields
than the little consumptive grass-plot behind the
house, that I try to bleach my small clothes upon."
During this harangue, which touched upon every
feeling of Mr. Borem's mind, he came to a resolu-
tion of indulgence, and accordingly gave full per-
mission to his wife to arrange a party of pleasure
for the succeeding Tuesday, and the Dargle was
appointed for the scene of action. In the interim,
as may be supposed, dreadful was the note of
preparation';-ham, cold beef, chickens, and five


10
A WREATH
or six agreeable friends were provided; the drivers
of the landau and sociable received sixteen distinct
messages to be at the door exactly at seven o'clock
in the morning; and the cider and great coats, the
hampers and the umbrellas, were all ranged in the
hall the preceding evening. At length the long-
expected, the awful Tuesday morning arrived.
"My love," said Mrs. Borem, long prior to the
rising of the sun-" My love," said she, assailing
his ribs with her pretty little sharp elbow, which
she insinuated between them" what do you think
of the day? I think it looks dark!". "No wonder
it should, Mrs. Borem, when the night is but just
off the sky! But I see it is vain to think of sleep,
so I'll get up presently and shave myself." From
this moment the bustle was incessant: every cloud
that passed over the heavens was questioned, and
every gust of wind analysed. At length the car-
riages drove up to the door; and upon mustering
the party, only two were found wanting-but such
a two! Mr. and Miss Tomkins, a vocal brother and
sister, Arcades ambo!-but, alas! not cantare pa-
rati a sudden fit of the mumps had disabled the
lady, while the gentleman's enchanting accompani-
ment on the flute was impeded by a disaster which
had happened to his forefinger, but, whether by a
burn or a cut was not clearly ascertained. Still,
however, Ned Noodle, the pleasantest fellow in the


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
11
world, was forthcoming: he was quite the fiddle of
a company-he could crow like a cock, and cackle
like a goose; then he was such an admirable mimic,
and told such delightful stories! So it was resolved
that Ned Noodle was to work double tides, and
thus the sad disappointment of the Tomkinses
would be in some measure compensated. The
children and the rest of the luggage being now
stored, the cavalcade moved forward though
Baggot-street, and along the Black Rock road,
(for they had determined to go by the shore, and
return by the Scalp,) and the usual routine of
remarks which occur daily and hourly on that
frequented thoroughfare, was duly observed.
"Howth is a fine mountain: but then the harbour
will never answer! And what can be the possible
use of the Martello Towers, Ned?" asked Mr.
Borem. Why to overawe the cockle-women, to be
sure, in case they attempted an insurrection," was
the reply of the wit. This first shot from Ned's
battery was followed by many more' upon bathing.
boxes, and the bang-up ladies in green shifts, and
jingles, and the inconvenience of the dusty road,
and at the same time the inexpediency of going to
expense to water any thing in Ireland.
66
Upon arriving at Cabinteely, two unforeseen cir-
cumstances occurred, which were but the harbingers
of more serious misfortunes; one of the horses lost


12
A WREATH
a shoe, and a dozen bottles of porter exploded in
regular succession. The first of these disasters was
soon remedied the second being irreparable; with-
out any other event worth recording, the party
stopped at last at the Dargle gate. The inhabitants
of the lodge were immediately put in requisition
for boiling potatoes;-and points of view and the
tour were commenced under a slight, though con-
tinued mizzle. In a hasty progress to the Moss-
house where they were not merely destined to
obtain refection, but shelter-on turning an abrupt
angle of the road, Miss Bridget Bodkin's bonnet
was blown into the water by a sudden gust of
wind; and as she was not only pretty, but had a
real five hundred pounds to her fortune, Ned
Noodle determined to pursue the fugitive covering
of her lovely, though red ringlets. By stepping
from one rock upon another, he had just placed
his hand on the prize, when unluckily his foot
glanced on a mossy stone, and he was precipitated
over head and ears into the water. All dripping
and drowned,' he slowly scrambled up the bank,
and presented himself in a truly wo-begone con-
dition. Upon few occasions more conspicuously
than upon this, was it ever demonstrated how
radically benevolence is the characteristic of the
Irish heart. After the enjoyment of a hearty laugh,
the company immediately proceeded to a liberal
6


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
13
subscription of covering and condolence-and Ned,
under the shelter of an umbrella, quickly availed
himself of their liberality;-Mr. Borem contributed
a great coat-Mrs. Borem a silk handkerchief-Miss
Bodkin (the lovely but innocent cause of the dis-
tress,) divested herself of a sans-paroitre, which
was soon converted into a flannel waistcoat;-the
great difficulty was inexpressibles. Here the ladies,
however humanely inclined, could not assist,-
and the gentlemen were singularly accommodated.
In this dilemma, Miss Bodkin's ingenuity, sharp-
ened naturally by her feeling of gratitude towards
the deliverer of her bonnet, supplied the defect:
she made a formal requisition for newspapers,
which had been brought for the amusement of the
party, and out of two Evening Posts, an Evening Mail,
a Morning Post, and a Morning Register, she com-
posed extempore a very decorous pair of pantaloons,
which, considering they were fabricated pro re nata,
fitted well, and answered the purpose of the exi-
gency to admiration.
Harmony being thus restored, and the temporary
damp which was thrown over Ned's facetiousness
effectually removed, one would have thought that
pleasure was to have been the order of the day ;—
but, alas! the day was gone-the shades of a Sep-
tember evening were advancing, and gave a me-
lancholy summons to departure. A detachment
с


14
A WREATH
of gentlemen were sent in quest of drivers and
servants, some of whom were drunk, and others
missing; while the remainder staid behind, to pack
the ladies into the carriages, and the dinner equi-
page into the hampers; and after a hasty meal,
and a brief enjoyment of punch, puns, and porter,
the party set off on their return to the city. But
the horses became tired before they reached Ennis-
kerry; and from thence, through the Scalp to
Dundrum, they were urged forward at an immense
expense of execration and whip-cord; but here
they made a full stop, and neither threats, promises,
nor pommelling, could compel them to move a step
farther. The party were obliged to dismount, and
amidst mud and mizzle, lamentation, argument,
stumbling, regret, vows and determinations against
country excursions, arrived in Dublin, and repaired
to their several habitations, in a very different hu-
mour from that in which they had quitted them in
the morning.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
15
DICKY DAW.
A True Story.
ONE Dicky Daw, (as stories go,)
A grocer, lived in Merrion-row;
His wife, in true domestic style,
Poor Dicky Daw would oft revile;
For ever wanting something new,
She'd cry, "Now, Dick, I wish that
Would do as other people do."
66
you
"There's Mistress Brown-they keeps a car,
And drives about both near and far-
To Donnybrook, the Rock, and stay
Just now and then a night at Bray;
Then, since we all want something new,
Dear Dicky Daw, I wish that you
Would do as other people do."
"What now," says Dick, "What want you next?”
Nay, Dick, my love, now don't be vex'd-
You know we live in dirt and filth;
A country house would save my health,
And here's a spot with charming view;
Dear darling Dick, I know that you
Will do as other people do."


16
A WREATH
The house was bought-a gardener hired,
And friends of coming never tired;
Dinners and suppers, port and punch-
And droppers-in must have a lunch!
And when poor Daw impatient grew,
66
Dicky, my love," she cried, "sure you
Must do as other people do !"
But now Dick's cash ran very brief,
And so he turned another leaf;
The gardener went, the car was sold;
When this to Mistress Daw they told,
"Oh, Dick," she scream'd, "what shall we do ?”
Indeed," says Dick, "you know that
Must do as other people do."
you
66
Poor Dicky Daw, from change of life,
Soon lost his angel of a wife!
And now, retrieving his affairs,
Most Christian-like his loss he bears;
And when you ask him, "How d'ye do?”
Dick cries, "Indeed, to tell you true,
I do as other people do."


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
17

On Matrimony.
POUR ET CONTRE.
THAT many a man would for ever roam like an
outlaw on the skirts of the social world, did not the
impulses of affection prompt him to increased ex-
ertion, and interest him in the service of beings
dear to his heart, is a fact which cannot be contro-
verted. Indeed it has been proved by experience
that the strongest incentive to virtuous industry is
frequently founded in the desire of providing for
the wants or comforts of a wife and family. While,
therefore, many of the arguments advanced in favor
of PRUDENCE, as a governing regulation in forming
matrimonial connexions, are wise and judicious, it
would appear that even such considerations are
c 2


18
A WREATH
arged too far, when they enjoin the actual pos-
session of competence previous to marriage. This
would indeed prescribe the comforts and privileges
of a home to a very limited circle.
It is the common cant to exaggerate the expenses
which are inevitably connected with matrimony;
but it should be recollected that celibacy has also
its expenditure; that frequently what is lavished
on self, by proper management might suffice for
more than one; that the very self-denials of the
husband and wife are favourable to virtue, while
the waste of the unmarried degenerates either into
'selfishness or vice.
The prime characteristic of rational love is self-
denial. In the very passion there is a provision
made for its restraint; for its aliment is constancy,
and deviation would be esteemed a treason against
that loyalty of attachment, which is but another
name for unparticipated tenderness. Shakspeare
finely describes this in the address of Coriolanus to
his wife :-
"That kiss
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
Hath VIRGINED IT E'ER SINCE."
How many are the human beings, at this moment
far removed from those they hold dear, whose
affection for the cherished object charms away fa-
tigue, and reconciles privation; who, but for such


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
19
a resting place for their affections, would, in all
probability be running into every excess of riot
and dissipation."
•
If, therefore, the parties are satisfied to sacrifice
pride and figure-making, and prefer the home-bred
happiness of connubial and parental love, to the
tinsel and frippery of what is termed the world of
fashion, there can be little doubt that they will
always find enough to spread the plain and hospita-
ble board, to educate their children, and to make
provision for their suitable establishment in life.
However, in entering into a matrimonial state,
it should always be recollected that he who identi- 、
fies his fate with another's, must, while he partici-
pates in her joys, become also the partner in her
sorrows;-but that such a consideration should
deter from marriage, would be to consider too
deeply the vicissitudes of existence; for if some
have been obliged to drink the bitter waters of
affliction, others have in such a state experienced
the most delightful enjoyments which earth is ca-
pable of affording; they have been prosperous in
their circumstances, and instead of following their
children to the grave, have lived to see them re-
spectably and happily settled in life, and have
been cheered by their affectionate attentions at
that period when affection and attention are most
required.


20
A WREATH
It would appear, therefore, that whenever there
is a fair probability of competence, arising out of
the possession of talents combined with industry,
the young should unite in matrimony.
The reasons should indeed be strong and clear,
that would influence an opposition to what so
directly contributes to individual and social hap-
piness-in fact nothing short of absolute inability
to support a family. The reciprocity of tenderness
appears to be the ordinance of Providence, and late
marriages effectually interrupt this most beneficial
regulation.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
21
THE BACHELOR AND THE HUSBAND.
I HATE old bachelors on system,
I always have and will resist them.
Ladies attend!—your cause I plead;
And if, while these brief lines you read,
A blush of approbation rise,
Or a bright tear bedew your eyes,
That blush-that tear, I proudly claim,
For they to me are more than fame.
What-wed! and be a slave for life!
Fetter'd by fondness-vexed by strife?
Yes-better 'tis, in marriage bound,
Pace e'en in chains its narrow round,
Or peep through iron bars of home,
Than celibacy's desart roam,-
Where barren boundless heaths extend,
Without a comfort or a friend!
-
Comforts!-we're free-we do not need 'em!
But your's is the mere outlaw's freedom;
Snatching the fierce unsocial joys
Of Cherokees or Chickesaws.
Behold the faithful wedded pair,
Struggling along the stream of care;


22
A WREATH
While you, upon its banks forlorn,
And rooted like the withering thorn,
By flood of autumn undermin'd,
And blighted by the wintry wind,
Object of cold neglect remain-
Victim of solitary pain.
Such are the men-well earned their fate-
Who justify their right to hate;
Spleen rules them with unchecked control,
And shuts the wicket of their soul;
Like toad immured for many a year,
Breathing self's sullen atmosphere.
But he, whom social feelings warm,
Whose bosom home-bred raptures charm-
Who knows one dear companion shares
His happiness, and soothes his cares—
And reads, while tears delicious rise,
His history in his children's eyes—
Feels what poor wealth can ne'er impart
The peaceful calmness of a heart
Mellowed by pity, touched by love;
And should he e'en be called to prove
The loss of friends, the chill of wo,
Still unrestrained his feelings flow;
In home's pure pleasures he can find
Joys which give solid peace of mind.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
23
Amelia and Amandis,
OR A CURE FOR LOVE.
AMELIA was a lovely girl of eighteen, when
Amandis, the only son of a wealthy Nobleman,
saw and loved her. Having early studied the
sciences of physiognomy and craniology, the
youthful lover endeavoured, by a minute inspection
of the countenance, and a close observation of the
form and prominences of the cranium, to make
himself acquainted with the natural disposition
and temper of the lovely fair one; and so fully did
the lines of feature and expression, and the contour
and fashion of the face and head, accord with those
characteristics which are said to indicate cheerful-
ness of disposition, serenity of mind, and a supe-


24
A WREATH
riority in every moral excellence-that Amandis,
after a very short acquaintance, came to the reso-
lution of making her his own for ever, convinced
in his mind that she of all others he had ever beheld
was the most calculated to make him happy in do-
mestic life. With this impression, he lost not a
moment in stating his wishes to an indulgent
parent, imploring his permission to ask her in
marriage.
Notwithstanding a disparity in rank and fortune,
that would, to the generality of the world, have
fully justified his refusal, the old Earl, after a little
hesitation, promised his consent, provided his son
would defer his proposal until one year of absence
and six months of acquaintance had proved the
sincerity and stability of his attachment.
After a painful effort on the part of the young
Nobleman, this arrangement was acceded to; and
having torn himself from the object of his affections,
with a heavy heart he proceeded on a journey to a
far-distant land. In the course of his travels, he
was introduced at the courts of several European
Princes; but the splendor of youth and beauty,
which under other circumstances might have en-
gaged much of his attention, was altogether un-
heeded by him. He thought but of the dear indi-
vidual whom he had left behind; her lovely image
remained firmly fixed in the sanctuary of his heart,


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
25
adorned in every grace which imagination could
conceive: The fairest faces only recalled the re-
collection of one, the brightness of whose beauty,
like the rays of the sun reflected from the surface
of an unruffled lake, appeared still more lovely, as
the reflection of a soul at peace with itself and
with the world. There was such a cheerfulness in
her smile, such sweetness in her accent, that in
her society he promised to himself a perennial
spring of domestic felicity:-but the visions of
fancy are delusive! Twelve lingering moons having
performed their monthly circuit, he returned to
his native country, flushed with hope; his mind
buoyed up with the most pleasing anticipations,-
in fact, deeming the fair prize already in his pos-
session.
-
As lovers, whilst in love, are scarcely ever in
possession of their reasoning faculties, especially
on the eve of meeting or separation, Amandis
determined to make his return first known to his
beloved Amelia, altho' he had never yet appeared
to her in any other character than that of a friend,
under the injudicious idea that her pleasure would
be increased by seeing him unexpectedly. In pur-
suance of this project, he resolved on scaling the
garden wall, and concealing himself in an arbour
to which he knew his beloved one daily resorted,
and which fond fancy had often visited during his
D


26
A WREATH
absence. No sooner had the resolution been
formed than it was carried into effect.
Having gained the enchanted spot, he placed
himself on the seat which was usually occupied by
his beloved, and in breathless suspense awaited
her arrival. After a short interval-every moment
of which appears an age-the door opens.-'Tis
Amelia! No 'tis a decrepid old weeding-woman,
who begins her daily task. But she is followed by
the radiant form of Amelia, with a countenance,
not indeed beaming in smiles, but dreadfully con-
torted and beclouded by the influence of the foul
fiend, PASSION. That moment she had discovered
that the unfortunate old woman had pulled by mis-
take, and sent to another young lady as a present,
a curious exotic, designed to deck Amelia's luxu-
riant tresses for an approaching race-ball. The
lover, mute and motionless from astonishment,
hears a storm of coarse reproach and energetic
scolding, in tones now sharp, now rough, varied
through all the notes of the gammut-from those
lovely lips which seemed to have opened hitherto
only to breathe music and perfume; and the scene
concludes with the final dismission of the poor
woman. Amelia retired. The lover put a bank-
note into the hand of the astonished weeder, whom
he regarded as the instrument of his deliverance
from the greatest evil to which earth is heir-


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
27
releaped the wall, and returned for another year to
Italy-came home restored to himself, and grateful
to his father for having persuaded him to conceal
his attachment, till confirmed by time and intimate
acquaintance.
;
TO LAURA.
On Parting.
LAURA-farewell-this faithful heart
Bleeds at the thought we now must part
Unbless'd-yet though it thus must be,
Oh! think on him who thinks of thee.
Laura when 'neath more southern skies,
When distant hills between us rise,
Should wealthier suitors try to move
By suasive arts thy constant love,
Say wilt thou then still faithful be
To him who ever thinks of thee?


28
A WREATH
Say, Laura, when gay scenes invite,
When youthful hearts are warm and light,
Wilt thou amid the merry throng
Join the brisk dance, and raise the song,
Or wilt thou midst their revelry,
Still think on him who thinks of thee?
Say wilt thou with the noontide ray
By some soft murmuring streamlet stray,
Or, as the lengthening sunbeams fade,
Oft lonely seek some neighbouring glade,
That thus thine every thought may be
With him who ever thinks of thee?
Yes, Laura, if this heart can guess
One mark of woman's faithfulness,
If the suppressed, though bursting sigh
Hath not deceived this searching eye,
This bosom feels thou still wilt be
Thinking on him who thinks of thee.
Then fare thee well-though this firm heart
Bleeds at the thought we thus must part,
To know that thou dost think of me,
Shall soothe my soul when far from thee.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
29

1
TKells Delt
A Water Party,
OR A VOYAGE TO HOWTH.
THE works at Howth had long been an object of
curiosity to Mr. Figsby's family-and to combine
a short voyage with the inspection was the order
of the day. Miss Caroline Figsby's lover, Mr.
Brimmigem, a partner in an eminent hardware
concern, and who was shortly to be blessed with
the possession of her fair hand, was of course the
prominent person of the party. Mr. Timmins, a
young gentleman, whose views in life were dis-
tracted between an attorney's office, chemical lec-
tures, diplomacy, poetry, and the violoncello, acted
the second part; and Mr. Foley, a gentleman who
had made two or three trips to Liverpool, was deemed
D 2


30
A WREATH
an essential addition to the party, especially by
Mrs. Figsby, whose attempts at navigation had
been limited to crossing the ferry.
At an early hour in the morning the packing up
of the sea-store commenced. Mrs. Figsby, who
anticipated sickness, had provided six bottles of
chicken broth, some saline mixture, and a phial
of brandy, which she observed she always found a
specific in calming the stomach. Mr. Timmins
produced an ingenious apparatus for converting salt
water into fresh, in case the supply should fail; and
as Mr. Figsby's great coat stuck out in a singular
manner, one of the company could not help asking
him the reason; when it appeared that he had
slipped on a life-preserver, which had been made
on poor Sadler, the æronaut's model, and which
rendered his mind easy on the subject of any ac-
'cident from "the perilous flood." Two hams,
a side of mutton, a fillet of veal, and six loaves,
with wine, cider, whiskey, and porter-tea, sugar,
chocolate, and cocoa, were stowed in a hamper;
and by way of supplement, a small firkin of pickled
pork, a quartern loaf, and a bag of biscuits, were
added, which were to be resorted to should the
stock of dressed food fall short.
Before stepping into the boat, Mr. Foley was
'invested with the command; and the entire party
solemnly pledged themselves that, in case of dis-


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
31
tress, they would cheerfully accede to any allowance
he should recommend.
As Mr. Brimmigem was too much occupied with
that passion which absorbs all others, to attend to
any thing else, the log-book was committed to the
care of Mr. Timmins, who was requested to add
any remarks which his excursive reading and inge-
nious observation might suggest. After a hearty
breakfast at Kingstown, the party got under weigh,
with a fair, though rather brisk wind, but had
scarcely cleared the pier, when poor Mrs. Figsby
became ill. Mr. Brimmigem, whom interest and
affection both prompted to pay her attention, in
endeavouring to assist her, dropped his telescope
into the sea, and to our great disappointment, it
sunk to the bottom. The chicken broth and saline
mixture both proved ineffectual; but the brandy
produced its never-failing effect-Mrs. F. became
immediately tranquil; but for fear of accidents a
bed of great coats was made for her in the bottom
of the boat, where she was settled as comfortably
as the nature of the circumstances would permit.
Having now got a league from land, Mr. Timmins
determined to take an observation, and ascertained
the latitude and longitude with a precision which
did him infinite credit. But here an unfortunate
accident occurred;-Mr. Figsby, with his usual
precaution, having requested Mr. Foley to sound,
that gentleman, in heaving out the lead, by some


32
A WREATH
means entangled the cord in Mr. Figsby's wig,
which, notwithstanding every exertion to save it,
was, with his hat, carried over board, and having
proceeded N. by E. towards Ireland's Eye, in a
few minutes, within view of the astonished party,
"sunk to rise no more," The old gentleman bore
his misfortune with the greatest good humour, and
to the no small amusement and satisfaction of the
young people, pulled his red night-cap out of his
pocket, and gave it the place so lately occupied by
his lost wig. The vessel keeping its course due
East, the lovers were employed in making little
paper boats, which they alternately committed to
the smooth surface of the water: they looked happy,
and they were so-little aware of the change which
was about to take place. But such are the alter-
nations of terrestrial joys!-misery treads upon the
heels of happiness; and as surely as every thing
treads upon the heels of something else,' adversity
invariably succeeds to prosperity.
"
As the vessel was running along pretty rapidly
at the rate of about four knots an hour, Mr. Figsby
became apprehensive of their getting into the At-
lantic, and requested Mr. Foley to tack and bear
away for the Martello Tower at Williamstown.-
That gentleman assented; but in making the at-
tempt Miss Caroline was thrown from her station,
and precipitated on the top of her dear mamma, who,
awaking suddenly, screamed out in the most ter-
-
--


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
33
rified manner, supposing of course that "chaos
was come again ;" and poor Mr. Brimmigem, in
springing instinctively forward to the assistance of
his interesting intended, unfortunately touched the
trigger of a fowling piece which had been lying
beside him, and which went off with a tremendous
explosion. Words cannot describe the sensations
of the party on beholding the bottom of the boat
where lay Mrs. Figsby and her daughter, flowing
with a crimson stream. "I'm shot, I'm shot," were
the only expressions which escaped the lovely lips
of Caroline, as she sunk beside the apparently life-
less body of her mother. On raising the ladies up,
however, it was discovered, to the great joy of the
whole party, that the red stream was occasioned by
the demolition of some bottles of port wine which
had been packed in a hamper, in which providen-
tially the contents of the piece had lodged. As soon
as Mrs. Figsby and Miss Caroline could be con-
vinced that they were neither killed nor wounded,
every thing was speedily set to rights, and the voy.
agers in a measure resumed their wonted gaiety.
Mr. Foley was now preparing to tack again, and
to bear away for Howth; but fright had discom-
posed poor Mrs. Figsby's stomach; and upon ex-
amining the stores, it was found that there was an
absolute deficit in the brandy department. She,
therefore, peremptorily insisted on landing, and
her fair daughters joining in the demand, he made


34
A WREATH
for Kingstown, and reached the port in safety, after
a very eventful voyage of five hours, twenty-three
minutes, and forty-six seconds.
The custom-house officers behaved with their
usual urbanity; and the governor of the castle,
when undeceived respecting the bulk of Mr. Figsby,
whom he took for a smuggler, shewed the party
the most marked attention. While the jingle was
preparing, he insisted on their partaking of a cold
collation of mutton-pie, and gin and water, after
which they departed under the salute of a pistol, a
blunderbuss, and two fowling pieces. The ladies
bowed, and Mr. Figsby waved his red night-cap,
and all proceeded forward with mixed emotions of
joy at their deliverance, and gratitude for their dis-
tinguished treatment.
They soon reached Booterstown, and crossing
slowly the ascent of Ball's-bridge, Mr. Brimmigem
could not help remarking how picturesque the
scenery was ;-the combined vapours of the distil-
lery and printing works reminded him of his native
forges; while to the imagination of Miss Caroline
they brought the recollections of Etna and Vesuvius.
Mr. Timmins had just entered on an elaborate dis-
sertation on the waste of smoke, when out flew the
linch-pin, one of the wheels rolled off, and the jingle
discharged its contents into the middle of the road.
Mrs. Figsby first reached the ground, and her
husband, by the combined force of sympathy and


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
35
gravity, fell into her arms. Mr. Brimmigem and
Mr. Foley did their utmost to break the descent
of the young ladies; and Mr. Timmins landed
safely in the mud astride upon the hamper. Irish
good-nature is proverbial—and they were quickly
extricated by the surrounding spectators, several of
whom seemed highly to enjoy the misfortune. Mr.
Figsby was the only person seriously hurt; he was
conveyed to a neighbouring public-house, where
every humane means were taken to recover him;
his night-cap and life-preserver were taken off, his
temples chafed with vinegar, and feathers burned
under his nose. By these means he was quickly
resuscitated, (as Miss Caroline afterwards elegantly
expressed it,) and staring wildly around him, talked
about the boat, asked whether they had not gone
to the bottom, and began to throw out his arms,
as in the act of swimming; when perceiving his
wife, he burst into a flood of tears.
A hackney-coach at that moment passing by, the
interesting group, with the exception of Mr. Foley,
were crammed into it-that gentleman mounting
the box, drove them safely into town, having pre-
viously put the coachman, who had got drunk at a
funeral, into the boot; and at half past eight safely
deposited the entire party in the noble mansion of
Mr. Figsby, at the corner of Pill-lane.


36
A WREATH
MEMORANDA OF TIMOTHY TIMMINS, ESQ.
INCORPORATED WITH HIS LOG-BOOK.
SET sail at twenty minutes past ten A. M. wind
south and by north,-fine amphitheatrical bay,-
Sugar-loaf a very high hill, and if blessed with a
volcano, would, I suppose, greatly resemble Mount
Etna. Pleasing tone of mind from remembrance
of many pleasant walks in the neighbourhood-
Cold bones at the Dargle,-snacks at Bray,-the
sun musing sweetly on the Martello Towers,-fine
air and prospect,-cockles and cold bath.
At twenty five minutes past ten our telescope (a
very ingenious instrument calculated to discover
invisible objects to the naked eye,) dropped into the
sea; a serious loss, as I had intended to correct
some of Herschel's errors with regard to Jupiter's
satellites.
At two minutes and a half past eleven, a lame
curlew lighted on the mast-land, of course, at no
great distance.
At twelve precisely a hat and wig fell over board,
threw out the hen-coop to save them, but in vain,
as it is to be feared both went to the bottom, no
other sail being at the moment in sight.
-a most
Within a quarter of one, neared Howth-
interesting mountain,-mind raised and softened


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
37
by the recollection of Columbus's feelings upon a
similar occasion. First sight of land excites very
interesting emotions. An epic poem on Howth!
why not?—and an essay on light houses!
At half-past one approached so near to Howth as
accurately to distinguish the natives and their
dwellings, men and women very like the inhabi-
tants of Bullock, from whence, probably, at a remote
period Howth was colonized,-little boys without
breeches in both places strongly confirm this opi-
nion,-nothing so decisive on this point as a simi-
larity of customs,-saw pigs, geese, lamp-lighters,
dogs, asses, tourists, goats, and other marine ani-
mals,- an old woman darning a black worsted
stocking is a highly picturesque object,-wonder
it has never been depicted by Wordsworth or any
of the 'poets of the lake,' who are blessed with so
happy a knack of describing trivialities,-for in-
stance a small pool at the top of a hill:
"I measured it from side to side,
'Twas three feet long and two feet wide."
Vide Wordsworth's poems in quarto, gilt-passim.
At twenty minutes to two a heavy shower of rain,
-wind rising,-sea swelling hillock-high,-opened
my umbrella for the first time. Tempests are grand
and awful, particularly when there is but little dan-
ger. Vessel rather crazy,-made some water, but
nothing to signify,-baled it out with Mr. Brim-
E


38
A WREATH
migem's water-proof beaver,-After the rain, felt
the sun intensely hot,-examined the thermome-
ter, and found I was right-our butter, which was
stowed at the bottom of the boat, under Mrs. Figs-
by, melted at this moment,-Captain thought it
necessary to tack,-commanders of vessels under
great responsibility, and so they should, for altho
they may be able to swim, the passengers may not.
Dreadful accident-Miss Figsby thrown aft upon
her mamma, and shot by Mr. Brimmigem, out of
kindness no doubt-rather an Irish way of evincing
one's love. Much joy-on examination found Mrs.
Figsby and her daughter had only conceited them.
selves kilt,-difficult to convince them that they
were still alive and well. Mem.-Great precaution
necessary for gentlemen deeply in love, upon med-
dling with fire-arms.
Half-past two. Examined our stock of provi-
sions; no more brandy; Mrs. Figsby clamorous to
land. Just now perceived a strange sail; every
thing prepared for action, supposing her to be a
pirate, and had an engagement taken place, there
is no doubt we should have given a good account of
her; unfortunately the vessel proved a collier.
How the heart palpitates in the expectation of an
engagement! Nobody who has once experienced
such feelings will ever forget them.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
39
Four o'clock.
Landed on the pier at Kings-
town; placed my foot on the very same stone on
which his Majesty last stepped when he visited
this country,-exchanged our barrel of herrings
with the Captain of a smack, for two bottles of
Cogniac; Mrs. Figsby's spirits greatly revived.--
Two roads from Kingstown to the Rock; we only
took one of them; chose that which his Majesty
travelled.-Ladies' bathing-places at Williamstown
remarkably convenient,-public and promiscuous;
well suited for married couples, who can dip
within three yards of each other. Bathing-women
interesting, though old, as much in the water as
the Gentoos, but from different motives.
Twenty minutes to five.-Tumbled out of a
jingle; good preparation for being secretary to an
embassy, which is liable to many accidents. Very
odd that Mr. Figsby should be the only person
hurt, as he was the only individual of the party who
had on a life-preserver perhaps only calculated for
being drowned in,-a feather bed would have been
of greater use. The elder Pliny is said to have put
a pillow under his wig when he went out to observe
an eruption of Vesuvius,-a wise precaution, and
one that should be adopted by all philosophers who
are in danger of stones falling on their heads.
At three quarters past six, got into a hackney-
coach; sat by Julia, an interesting girl,-lovely
hi


40
A WREATH
eyes, with a most scientific and bewitching cast in
one of them. The windows being up on account of
Mr. Figsby, the discourse naturally fell upon caloric
and mephitic air,-I found she was quite up to
the subject; has a radical knowledge of botany,
evinced by her frequent allusions to the pistil and
carolla; also a proficient in French, but not quite
so well versed in English. Observed that the oc-
currences of that day would form a poker in her
life-meaning epocha, I presume; and on passing
a gentleman's domain, remarked that the reproach
to the house was rather too straight, too perpen-
dicular; that if a fistula of about thirty or forty feet
wide were cut through the trees, the parlour window
would command a prospect of unapparalled extent
and munificence,
At half past eight o'clock landed safely in Pill-
lane. After helping poor Mr. Figsby to bed, and
taking a dish of weak tea with Mrs. Figsby, (to
which, for my stomach's sake, a little brandy was
added,) returned to my lodgings to meditate on
the occurrences of the day.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
41
LUCY HILL.
A Sailor's Letter to his Sister.
This comes, dear Ann, far o'er the sea,
To know if it fares well with thee,
And what kind friends our cottage seek,
To cheer thee, and of comfort speak.
Those foolish tears, be sure to say,
Didst thou soon dry them all away;
But Ann, forget not, tell me true,
Has Lucy Hill been oft with you.
I thought to join our gallant crew
Shouting to shore our last adieu;
But some pale form the deep beside
I saw, and the vain accents died.
Thro' balmy climes and blooming isles,
Where ruin lurks in beauty's smiles,
We've pass'd, and dauntless hearts complain
Of cruel love, and cureless pain.
What mean those cruel pains of love,
Those glances which so fatal prove?
Or why in dreams behold I still
Some form resembling Lucy Hill?


42
A WREATH
Yes one there is, smile has she none,
Pale is her brow as marble stone,
As wintry ice-dewed blossoms chill,
Yet still she looks like Lucy Hill.
Tell all our village neighbours kind,
I call them and past hours to mind,—
But mark you, Ann, does Lucy wear
The twisted ring with braided hair?
Ann, fare thee well- I think of thee,
Though angry tempests raging be;
And when they slumber calm and still,
Remember me to Lucy Hill.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
43
1333

Jane Fitz-Charles,
9/11 101 91290
OR THE EFFECTS OF INDISCRETION.
JAMES FITZ-CHARLES was the descendant of a
distinguished and once affluent family; but various
circumstances had led to the annihilation of their
wealth, and all that his parents could bequeath to
him was the name of gentleman, and a moderate
education. For many years he struggled hard to
attain the station which he imagined his birth en-
titled him to fill; and it was not until after a severe
contest with his adverse fortunes, that religion:
taught him the wisdom of submitting to dispensa-
tions which he could not control. He obtained a
situation in the Custom-house of Dublin, and altho'
his emoluments were small, yet he was thankful
and content.


44
A WREATH
He had married in early life, and became a
widower a few years after. Of several children, one
daughter only survived; but he frequently observed
that she more than compensated him for the loss of
all. He loved her, indeed, with more than a father's
fondness, and having been disappointed in all his
other expectations of enjoyment, he appeared to
cling to this last source of earthly happiness with a
fervour of affection which no pen can properly de-
scribe. It was not a selfish feeling; it was a sincere
desire for the welfare of his child;
"And all his wish on earth was now,
To see her blest, and die."
Jane was in many respects a good girl; but
having been so soon deprived of her mother, and her
father's attention to the duties of his office prevent
ing that oversight which is necessary for the welfare
of young people, and ought to be highly accounted.
of by those who are favoured to possess it-her
education had not been a sufficiently guarded one;
she was volatile and thoughtless, and too fond of
using to its full extent the liberty with which her
father indulged her, and which is so congenial to
the vivacity of the youthful imagination.
She was about eighteen years of age, when one
of her acquaintances, a young and giddy widow,
invited her to accompany her to the Fair of Rath-
farnham. The invitation was cheerfully accepted,


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
45
and they enjoyed in anticipation the scenes of rustic
revelry which they expected to witness, but in
which they had no intention of participating. The
evening was fine, and after a short time spent in
observing the various sports that were going for-
ward, and the beauty of the surrounding scenery,
they were joined by two young men, who endea-
voured to attract their attention by lively and witty
observations on the scene before them.
In such a
place, and under such circumstances, an acquaint-
ance is easily formed, and the time passed so agree-
ably in the company of their new friends, that they
were easily persuaded to meet them again on the
following evening.
It is not our intention to moralize on the various
errors which this young woman was induced to
commit, but simply to relate the events which
occurred, and to let those events speak for them-
selves. We would only observe, that there is no
lesson which it is of more importance to impress
upon the minds of young people—and we have no
hesitation in saying, of young females in particular
-than the impropriety of forming any acquaint-
ance which they are afraid or ashamed of making
known to their parents. Had poor Jane been
properly instructed in this respect, from what
misery and degradation might she not have been
preserved!


46
A WREATH.
The elder of the young men paid her particu-
lar attention, and on their second interview pro-
fessed the attachment with which she had inspired
him. His name, he said, was Horace Wentworth :
he was then pursuing his studies in the College,
but was altogether dependant for his future esta-
blishment in life on the will of his uncle, a man of
great fortune, but of such pride that he thought no
woman could be a suitable match for his nephew
who was not in possession of both wealth and title.
These reasons, he said, made him desirous that for
the present his affection should be known only to
herself by and by he would have completed his
studies; he would then enter into orders, and as
several rich livings were in the gift of his family, he
made no doubt of obtaining one of them; and then
how delightful it would be to avow his attachment,
retire into the country with his Jane and her father,
and in peaceful seclusion smile at the folly of those
who barter happiness for grandeur, and prefer the
ostentation of high life to the enjoyment which
mutual affection only can bestow.
It has been often and truly said, that what we
wish for we are always willing to believe; and
Jane, at least, was no sceptic. She had conceived a
warm attachment for her admirer; she believed
his professions to be sincere; and she loved to gaze
upon the picture of future enjoyment which he ex-
.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
47
hibited to her imagination. She thought, too, that
by an union with Horace her affectionate father
would be released from the drudgery to which he
was now compelled to submit, and be advanced to
his proper station in society-there was ecstacy in
the idea; and she was only awakened from her
dream of prospective felicity, to find herself a guilty
and forsaken creature, and likely soon to become a
mother.
We cannot paint the anguish she now experienced
-the deep, deep misery into which she was plunged.
Often were her hands raised to heaven in frantic
supplication, that God in his mercy would be
pleased to deprive her of existence, and preserve
her father from the shame and sorrow that awaited
him. She was conscious that her situation could
not much longer be concealed; and although she
endeavoured to hide the affliction which preyed
upon her, by an affected gaiety, yet the busy
whisper had already circulated amongst her ac-
quaintance, who began to regard her with coldness
and suspicion. Her father was grieved and per-
plexed at the change in her behaviour: her favorite
geraniums were neglected, her usual avocations
were forsaken; and oftentimes, when she appeared
to be reading, he would notice the tears falling from
her eyes upon the unturned page. At length,
however, the direful secret burst upon him.
The


48
A WREATH
increased indisposition of his daughter induced
him to apply for medical assistance; and a phy-
sician being called in, her situation was at once
revealed to him. For a moment the unfortunate
father appeared petrified with horror, and the only
expression which the bitterness of his grief per-
mitted him to use, was one of thankfulness that his
wife, at least, was not a partaker in it. With an
affected calmness which ill concealed the agitation
under which he laboured, he left his once peaceful
habitation, as if in the noise and bustle of the
streets he could effect an escape from his own feel-
ings. The evening was fast closing in, and he
wandered he knew not whither. On the following
morning he was discovered by a sentinel at the
Pigeon-house, lying beneath the wall in a state of
insensibility, Happily he was well known there,
as the duties of his office frequently led him to
visit it, and he was immediately conveyed in a
coach to his own house.
The illness of her father seemed to recal Jane
from the contemplation of her own misery; day
and night she attended upon him with the most
unwearied assiduity, and for three weeks was rarely
absent from her station at his bed side. During all
this time he remained insensible, and the fever had
so far weakened him that the physicians who had
been called in could hold out no hope of his reco-


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE
49
very. At length, however, they announced the
approach of returning reason, and the unhappy
daughter had again the gratification of hearing her
father call upon her. He held her hand, and gázed
on her face with more than his usual fondness: "I
think," said he, "I must have been a long time ill,
and I have had a sad, sad dream ;-but surely it
was only a dream.”“ "Alas! my father," exclaimed
Jane, "would that it were indeed a dream. Can
you, can you forgive me ?"
"Can I forgive thee,
my child? I can, I do forgive thee. Yea, as sin-
cerely as I desire that my Father which is in heaven
may forgive me my trespasses do I forgive thee thine.
May he bless thee, my daughter, and be a father
to thee, for I feel that thou wilt soon need one."
These were the last words which he uttered, and in
a few hours he was numbered with the dead.
The exertions which Jane had made proved too
much for her enfeebled constitution, and before the
interment of her father she was attacked with the
fever to which he had fallen a victim. They had
only occupied part of a house, and the owner of it,
alarmed for his own safety, deemed it the most pru-
dent to have her removed to an hospital. Here she
remained some time, and was then removed to an-
other, where she became the mother of a son.
Four months had elapsed from the period of her
father's death to the time of her discharge from the
F


50
A WREATH
hospital, when she again entered upon the busy
world, a destitute and friendless creature. She di-
rected her steps towards her former abode, and with
a weak and trembling hand ventured to rap at the
door; a stranger opened it, and in reply to her en-
quiry for Mr. and Mrs., informed her that
they had quitted the house and removed to England;
but they had left a letter to be given to Miss Fitz
Charles, if that was her name. She received the let-
ter, but had not courage to open it, and with a heavy
heart turned away from the door. All day long she
wandered about, or sought to rest herself in alleys
and obscure corners, for her afflictions bore heavily
upon her, and she was worn down both in body and
mind. Doubtless many of her former friends would
have received and sheltered her had she made known
her situation to them, but she trembled least any of
these should meet and recognize her, for whilst she
accused herself of having been the cause of her fa-
ther's death, she shrank from the idea of that accu-
sation being made by another. The shades of evening
had closed in, as she was slowly walking along the
bank of the Liffey. A dreadful thought crossed her
mind-she stopped and looked around; she thought
that she was unobserved, and she fixed a steady
gaze upon the water her forehead seemed burning
with heat, but here was that which would cool it-
here, at least, the houseless wanderer might repose,
1


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
51
and find a certain shelter from want, and sorrow, and
disgrace. In a moment her purpose was fixed, and
she leaned forward with the intention of executing
it. Providence, however, interposed, and prevented
the intended suicide, in the very act of its accom-
plishment. Her infant was sleeping upon her bosom
and when about to take the desperate plunge, she
pressed him violently against the wall over which
she was going to throw herself his cry uttered
volumes in a moment the feelings of a mother
were raised within her, and she burst into tears—
the first which she had shed since the death of her
father. At this instant a hand was laid upon her
shoulder, and a coarse female voice exclaimed
"You poor silly cratur what is it you're thinking
about?" Jane made no reply, but turned her face,
now bathed in tears, upon the speaker, a poor
basket-woman, who had for some time been ob-
serving her actions, and had become suspicious of
her design. "Come, come," she continued, "don't
fret so there's no sore but there's a cure for it-
just tell me where you live now and I'll go home
with you."" Indeed, I cannot-I have no home,"
was the reply." No home," said the inquirer,
"musha, honey, but you're in a bad way then ;
however, don't cry for that at all at all; sure I have
a home of my own, and if I cannot go with you to
your home you can come with me to mine, and


52
A WREATH
that's all the same you know, barring the difference
of it." The affectionate language of the poor wo-
man revived Jane's drooping spirits, and inspired
her with confidence. She quietly took her offered
arm, and accompanied her to the place she called
her home-a poor room in a mean house in the out-
skirts of the city. A better night's rest than she had
enjoyed for a long time so far recruited her strength
and spirits, that the next morning she was enabled
to reflect with more calmness upon her situation.
Her first employment was to examine the letter she
had received; it contained an account of the money
that had been disbursed for her father's funeral ex-
penses, and which had been procured by the sale
of the furniture left in their landlord's possession;
a small balance was due to her, and this, together
with a chest containing her clothes, books, and
papers, remained in the house, and would be de-
livered to any person whom she might commission
to receive them. We need scarcely inform our
readers that the necessary application was imme-
diately made, and the chest removed to the poor
woman's apartment. The money amounted only
to a few pounds, but it was sufficient to render
their habitation more comfortable, and to afford
such an accession to the trading capital of her
hostess, and such a consequent increase in her
profit, as, she said, more than compensated for


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
53
the accommodation afforded to her guest; for whom,
and for her baby, she felt an increasing attach-
ment.
In arranging her plans for the future, Jane hoped,
when her health should be re-established, to be
able to maintain herself and her infant by her skill
at her needle; but sorrow and suffering had un-
dermined her constitution, and she was rapidly
approaching to the termination of her earthly pil-
grimage. She was soon conscious that her disso-
lution was at hand, and she awaited it in peaceful
quietude. She had a broken and a contrite spirit,
she possessed, also, a firm and undoubting assur-
ance in the all-sufficiency of Him who came "to
seek and to save that which was lost :"-She called
upon him and he heard her, and delivered her out
of all her troubles; and with her last breath she
acknowledged his mercy, and praised him for his
loving kindness.
The poor woman was deeply affected at the de-
cease of her guest, and promised to be a mother
to her son. She mentioned his destitute situation
to some of her customers, and procured amongst
them a small subscription to send him to a country
nurse, with whom he remained until he was six
years old; he then returned to his kind friend in
the city, who sold his mother's clothes, which she
had hitherto preserved with the most scrupulous


54
A WREATH
care, and was thus enabled to pay for his school-
ing. Unhappily, however, for him, she died when
he was about twelve years of age, and he was left
to shift for himself in the best way that he could.—
We will not follow him in the career of vice into
which he was betrayed; it is sufficient to say, that
before he had attained his twentieth year he was
committed to prison on a charge of robbery and
murder a gentleman and his servant had been
attacked by a desperate gang, they made a power-
ful resistance, and in the conflict the gentleman
received wounds of which he soon after died; they
succeeded, however, in securing the person of our
hero, if so we may venture to call him, and who
was shortly after brought to trial for the offence.
The proceedings against him were conducted by
a barrister of distinguished talent, who had lost,
in the deceased gentleman, the friend and compa-
nion of his earliest youth, and who was thus in-
duced to bring to bear upon the unhappy culprit
the whole weight of his eloquence, and to labour
for his conviction with all the powers of his mind.
The proofs of his guilt were irrefragable, and when
called upon for his defence, the Judge warned him
against attempting by any weak assertions to rebut
the incontrovertible evidence that had been given
against him. He replied, "My lord, it would be
idle for me to persist in the plea which I have


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
£55
made, and to continue to say that I am not guilty
of the crime of which I am accused: yet permit me,
before the awful fiat be pronounced which shall
tell me that my days are numbered, to plead in
extenuation of my crimes the circumstances of my
situation. My lord, I never knew a mother's af-
fectionate care, I never partook of a father's coun-
sel: abandoned by one parent, and deprived by
death of the other, I was early thrown upon the
stream of life without a friend and without a guide.
I know that I have inflicted a deep injury upon
society, yet, oh! be merciful, I beseech you, to
my youth and ignorance, and allow me an oppor-
tunity, by the rectitude of my future conduct, to
make reparation for the crimes which I have com-
mitted. I know that my mother was descended
from an honorable family, and it is possible, that
even in this court the son of a Fitz-Charles may
not be without relations, who would, for the sake
of their common ancestry, unite in the prayer for
mercy which he is now offering. And O, my lord,
the publicity which this day's proceedings will give
to my unhappy name may even bear it to the
author of my mother's death, the man whom I
have to curse for my existence, and Horace Went-
worth himself be made acquainted with the state
to which his son has been reduced. Death is at
all times awful to contemplate, but-
X


56
A WREATH
Here the prisoner was interrupted, and the court
thrown into confusion, by the interference of the
counsellor who had pleaded against him. When
the young man stood forward to make his defence,
his countenance, and the tone of his voice, im-
pressed his learned antagonist in a manner that he
could not account for; but when he pronounced his
mother's name, and afterwards that of his father,
with the accompanying malediction, his horror and
astonishment were indescribable. Had a mine
been sprung beneath his feet-had the whole cre-
ation gone to wreck around him, and he alone sur-
vived, his terror and amazement could not have
been greater. He stood up-he extended his arms
towards the bench,-he struggled for utterance.
The court and all within it appeared to him to dis-
tend to an amazing size; yet, at the same time,
all, all was pressing upon his brain with the most
torturing violence. He gasped with the agony of
internal emotion, and it was only by a convulsive
effort that he was able to exclaim, "My lord, my
lord judge, acquit the prisoner-he is not guilty of
the crime for which he is arraigned. I will prove
his innocence, my lord; for I thus publicly avow
that I only am the murderer. Aye, my lord, the
blood of his mother is upon me-the blood of my
friend is upon me—and if he suffers the penalty of
the law, his blood also will be upon my head.”


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
57
Here his emotion overcame him; he fainted, and
was borne out of the court; the spectators attri-
buting his conduct to sudden illness occasioned by
the exertions that he had made.
The judge proceeded to pass the awful sentence
of the law, and in due time it was carried into
effect. Some weeks elapsed before the counsellor
recovered from the frenzy which had seized him—
his first inquiry was after the unfortunate prisoner;
he heard his fate with apparent indifference, but
his insanity returned the same evening, and in
despite of all the efforts of medicine, he sank into
a state of melancholy madness, and ended his
days in an asylum for lunatics.


58
A WREATH
A Mother to her infant Daughter.
Sweet baby, in thy beauteous face
Mysterious are the charms I trace :
Language may blush when looks so well,
Can every shade of feeling tell.
In the clear mirror of thine
eye
To read thy fate I sometimes try,
And musing on thy future years,
Dim the fantastic scene with tears;
Thou wilt be woman, that alone
Echoes to compassion's throne:
Man may his destiny create,
Woman is the slave of fate.
Thou may'st be lovely-in that word
Ten thousand sorrows are inferred;
Adored when young-neglected old,
By passion bought-by parents sold;
Seduction masked in friendship's guise,
Envy with sharp malignant eyes,
Satire with poison'd poignant dart,
May all conspire to pierce thine heart;
And in thy short and brilliant reign,
These fiends may give thee bitter pain.
Yet when the sober evening grey
Of life steals on, and charms decay,
When time detaches one by one
The blossoms of thy floral crown,
Oft shalt thou sigh for youth again,
With all its peril, all its pain.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
59

1
TK
THE WEDDING OF
Benjamin Brimmigem, gentleman.
CONTAINING SOME PARTICULARS OF A MATRIMONIAL EXCUR-
SION TO THE COUNTY OF WICKLOW.
"Hail wedded love," was the exclamation which
broke from me, as I passed along the Blind Quay,
on my way to Pill-lane, where I was invited to an
early breakfast on the auspicious 13th of June, a
day long to be remembered, on which Venus and
the Graces shed their choicest influences.
I found assembled at the breakfast-table, Mr.
and Mrs. Figsby, a large sally lun, Mr. Timmins,
and Miss Julia Figsby, three cousins, two maiden
aunts, a quantity of fresh eggs, and Mr. Brimmi-
gem, the most interesting object, except one, of this


60
A WREATH
eventful ceremony. His hair was neatly curled,
and his whiskers were accurately adjusted-his
coat was blue, with brass buttons of his own manu-
facture; yellow Marseilles waistcoat, and Nankin
trowsers. I had just commenced buttering my
second muffin, when the lovely Caroline, the bride
elect, entered the room-and never did a finer
figure light on the floor of a back parlour; she
was attired in white muslin-a deep trimming of
point lace shaded her lovely bosom, while mam-
ma's garnets sparkled on her snowy neck; and her
hair of a bright auburn hue, was beautifully bur-
nished with Russia oil, and tastefully disposed
with four tortoise-shell combs, neatly set with Irish
diamonds. But the exquisiteness of her appear-
ance, merged in the sweet expression of her face;
love chastened by awe and apprehension, possess-
ed her brow, and every dimple appeared to be oc-
cupied by a terrified cupid-she was, indeed, an
object on which even a Don Cossack might have
gazed with admiration; it may easily be conceived,
therefore, what were the feelings of the individual
who was that morning to be allowed to call her his
own, as he rose to welcome her with a tender em-
brace. Having received the hearty congratulations
of all present, with a grace peculiar to herself, Miss
Caroline took her seat; but she ate nothing, of
course, nor ever once raised her eyes from the slop
1


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
61
bason, until the servant announced that the car-
riages were in attendance.
At half-past ten, the procession, which consisted
of three hackney coaches, and a numerous retinue
on foot, proceeded to St. Michan's Church; where
the ceremony was to be performed. Here, how-
ever, the proceedings were stayed, by a council
which it was found necessary to hold, with respect
to the name of the bride. Her father and Mr.
Brimmigem, were both equally tenacious on this
point, as they had each money to give, and a fa-
mily consequence to support-and the question
was, whether she should preserve in some mea-
sure, her own name, or the bridegroom adopt hers
-the former was eventually determined on, and in
a few minutes she emerged, Caroline Figsby Brim-
migem, to the very indecent merriment of the sex-
ton and grave-digger, who should certainly, on
such an occasion, have kept their countenances.
The strong emotions which had been restrained
during the service now broke out in full violence-
the sisters rushed into each other's arms-the fa-
ther and the son-in-law were for a long time locked
in a strict embrace the aunts groaned, and the
cousins whimpered—and not knowing well what to
do, I shook Mr. Timmins' hand for an indefinite
period, and then went out to read the epitaphs, till
the feelings of the family had in some measure
G


62
A WREATH
subsided. At length they became calm, and we
proceeded from the church gate into the carriages,
which were to convey us to Quin's at Bray, where
I had determined to spend the day with the hap-
py pair; but to leave them the ensuing morning to
that felicitous insulation which minds of refined
sensibility so well know how to enjoy.
As there is a reason for every thing that occurs,
though some are not quite so clear and obvious as
others, it may be worth enquiring why the inn at
Bray is so generally selected as Hymen's caravan-
sera, upon connubial occasions. As it is certainly
by far the most public place of the kind, of any in
the neighbourhood of the metropolis, it can only be
accounted for by supposing that Cupid himself is a
sleeping-partner in the concern, and therefore prompts
his votaries to take up their residence there.
Our dinner was excellent, and a long drive had
enabled us to do ample justice to it. After par-
taking of a few excellent tumblers of punch mix-
ed for us by Mrs. Figsby, the youngsters of the
party resolved on taking a stroll through the Dargle
-and no time being lost we were quickly im-
mersed in a sylvan wilderness, where every breeze
was health, and every sound was harmony. Such
a scene, combined with the invincible force of ex-
ample, of course had their natural effect on the
congenial minds of Julia and Mr. Timmins. The


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
63
lovely Caroline and her beloved Benjamin were soon
lost sight of in the thick mazes of the glen; and in
a short time I found myself left to the undisturbed
exercise of my own cogitations. Recollecting an
old vulgar adage, that every two make a pair, I
began to fear I might be considered an intruder,
and, therefore, made no exertion to keep up with
either party. And here I experienced the full force
of the sentiment Moore has so beautifully versified
in one of his melodies.
Yet it is not that nature has shed o'er the scene
Her purest of chrystal and brightest of green,
'Tis not the soft magic of streamlet or rill,
Oh, no! it is something more exquisite still.
I had thus wandered along for a considerable
time, singing to myself, when on turning the point
of a rock, I discovered Mr. Timmins and Miss Ju-
lia very snugly seated beneath a horse-chesnut
tree; and from the animated expression of his
countenance, and the happiness depicted on that
of his fair partner, I entertained little doubt that
he was breathing in her ear "soft strains of love."
The interesting Caroline at this moment appearing
in sight, leaning on the arm of her beloved, it was
mutually resolved that the party should retire to the
inn; but, as I felt convinced that my absence could
be dispensed with for a short time; and as I had
at the moment worked up my mind to something


64
A WREATH
of that feeling which animated the illustrious Carr,
of tourifying memory, I resolved on exploring some
of those rural abodes of wretchedness and misery,
which even in this beautiful county, are allowed
to disgrace the otherwise delightful scenery.
Having wandered a considerable way, musing on
the ruinous infatuation which keeps Irish proprie-
tors in another country,, while their presence, is
so indispensably necessary at home, I at length
approached a very tolerable looking dwelling, and
with the instinctive curiosity of a pedestrian tourist,
poked my nose into an apartment which, from its
being boarded, was I conceived originally intended
for a parlour-I heard an odd rustling at the far-
ther end of the room, and in a few minutes perceived
the snout of a sow, maternally employed in arrang、
ing the litter for her numerous and interesting
family. Though an Irishman, I confess I felt a little
hurt at this subversion of all order in lodgement,
and exclaimed to the man of the house, who just
then came out of the kitchen, " Why, my good
friend, in the name of common decency, do you put
your pig in the parlour ?" 'Why then, in troth,
I'll tell you that honey," replied O'Shea, "I put
the pig in the parlour because there's every con-
veniency in it for a pig." As this was the lite-
ral truth, I had nothing further to say on the
subject, but followed my host into the kitchen,
66


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
65
where his wife and family were just about to sit
down to their supper; but as I was advancing to
take a seat in the chimney corner, my stomach
came in very unpleasant contact with a hard, sub-
stance, which, upon investigation, I found to be the
horn of a cow-“Why, what brings the cow here?"
I demanded, "Why, our little Sally, please your
honor! she brings it in every evening, now that
the evenings are growing long and could-for
my woman says how nothing makes a cow fall off
sooner than her being out under the could-and I
never gainsay Peggy, as there's no better milker
in the country." As I had no reason to question
Peggy's talents in the 'milky way,' I sat down
quietly on a three legged stool, and while she was
busied in preparing some rashers of bacon and
eggs, which I afterwards found were intended for
the use of her illustrious guest, I began to rumi-
nate on the strange fatality which converts every
cabin into a Noah's ark-I had just turned up my
face to the roof in the act of ejaculating my wonder,
when, to my infinite surprise, I felt a warm sub-
stance descending on my nose, which, upon further
and more accurate investigation, I found reason to
attribute to a cock and six hens, who were poising
themselves upon a tie of the rafters for the enjoy-
ment of a comfortable nap during the night. I
own I was a little provoked at the accident, and
G 2


63
A WREATH
expostulated sharply with Mrs. O'Shea upon the
subject; but the same argument of heat that was
submitted in favour of the cow, was urged in favor
of the hens, to whose regular laying, I was informed,
warmth was essentially necessary. This argument
being also unanswerable, I proceeded to search for
my pocket-handkerchief, in order to wipe off the
unpleasant topic of our conversation; when to my
still further dismay, my hand in its progress to
my pocket, popped into the mouth of the calf, who,
mistaking it for the accustomed fist of Miss Molly
O'Shea, began to suck it with the most indefatiga-
ble perseverance. From this last and most alarm-
ing dilemma I at length extricated myself, and hav-
ing partaken of the provision so kindly prepared
for me, and in vain offered some pecuniary remune
ration for my entertainment, I departed with a high
sense of the hospitality of my host and hostess, and
with a genuine concern that they were not better
accommodated.
Having made the best of my way to the inn,. I
found the young people regaling themselves on a
delicious collation of strawberries and cream, while
the elder part of the company were comfortably
feasting on a fine savoury dish of ducks and green
peas, served up in Quin's best style. A Welch
harper was in attendance, and the greatest hilarity
prevailed; but it was perfectly innocent-none of


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
67
those coarse and offensive jokes were hazarded,
which distress the modest ear and crimson the
female cheek with the painful blush of confusion
or shame. The bride was led away at the appointed
hour, and after a short interval the other ladies
vanished. Timmins, Figsby, and myself remained
behind, over a bottle of Calcavella; and among
a variety of topics which we discussed, the impor-
tance of encouraging our woollen manufactures
was particularly insisted on; and Timmins, who is
persuaded that there is an immense cluster of islands
at the south pole, inhabited by men who must, from
their situation, be in the greatest want of warm
clothing, proposed forming a joint stock company,
for the purpose of supplying the natives with Irish
cloths, and suggested that he and a friend of his, a
Mr. Flinchy, should be appointed Secretaries, at a
salary of five hundred pounds per annum. Mr.
Figsby having fallen asleep during the disquisition,
and it having also been discovered that the decan-
ters were empty, the further consideration of the sub-
ject was postponed until that day three months.
Having retired to my chamber, I was just prepar-
ing for bed, when my ears were assailed by several
violent screams evidently from a female voice, ac-
companied with a considerable degree of confusion
in some of the adjoining apartments. Having
slipped on my dressing gown, I hurried forth to


69
A WREATH
discover the cause of the tumult. After tumbling
over the sweeping brush, which the chamber maid
had left ready for the morning's duty, in the middle
of the passage, I at length arrived at the door of
the room occupied by Miss Julia, which I was
grieved and shocked to find had been the theatre
of all this commotion.
;
By the stupidity of the house-maid, or some
other mistake, the gentlemen had been shewn to
the wrong apartments :- Mr. Timmins to that of
Miss Julia, and Mr. Brimmigem to that of the lovely
bride! The noise of opening her room door having
awakened the younger lady, who had just been
dreaming of a plan being laid by a gentleman to
run away with her against her will, on beholding
a man entering her room, she uttered several dread-
ful shrieks, at the same time ringing the bell with
the greatest violence. In a moment, the various
lodgers and servants in the house were assembled.
in the lobby; and it was not until after a consider-
able time that the matter was sufficiently explained
to induce the parties again to retire to rest. Every
thing having been now arranged to the mutual sa-
tisfaction of all parties, I again sought my couch,
and slept soundly till six o'clock next morning. But,
as I had determined to return to town, I ordered an
outside seat on the mail coach which passes through
Bray, and at seven, seated myself very comfortably


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
69
between a something, which appeared to be "half
monkey half a man," carefully rolled up in a tra-
velling cloak, buttoned a la militaire over his nose
-and a well dressed middle aged female, who,
from the complete rotundity of her figure, and her
face having much the resemblance of a good
kitchen fire, I suspected to belong to the lower re-
gions of some of the once noble mansions of our
city, but which are now in common parlance
yeelped hotels. As we had good horses, and a
steady driver, nothing particular occurred till our
arrival at the Black Rock, where we stopped to take
up some additional live lumber, with the exception
of our progress being impeded, for a short time, by
a long line of cars fully laden with women and
children. On inquiry from my female companion,
it appeared they were pooreens and their nurses
going to the Foundling Hospital to be paid their
wages. On further inquiry, I discovered that the
term pooreen signifies a small potato, and in this
instance meant that the children were fed on that
article. The reply was very satisfactory, as it served
to explain the reason why the term potato-face is so
frequently applied to the Irish, who are exclusively
fed on that vegetable, which, by the way, from a
learned note on the passage in Shakspear's Merry
Wives of Windsor, "let the sky rain potatoes," ap-
pears to possess many excellent qualities. While we


70
A WREATH.
sat waiting for a passenger who we saw making
all speed towards us, my female companion observ-
ing that the morning was extremely cold, drew from
her pocket a pint bottle of something which appeared
uncommonly transparent, and placing the neck of
it in her mouth, much in the way that a farrier
would were he administering medicine to a horse,
in a moment about half of the contents disappeared;
then, carefully replacing the cork, she was about to
return the precious relic to its former station, when,
unfortunately, it came in contact with one of the
rails of the coach, and in a moment strewed the
road with a thousand fragments! Moore, in alluding
somewhere to a vase in which roses had been dis-
tilled, observes,
"You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still."
Although it is more than probable that genuine
poteen would not produce so great an effect on glass
bottles, in the instance just mentioned the perfume
was very powerful; indeed so sensible was its effects
on the nervous temperament of our military a-la-
mode, that he had nearly fallen off the coach in a
swoon; but, fortunately, on applying his highly
scented kerchief to his olfactory aperture, he seemed
to revive, and turning to the poor woman, very
piously wished that Old Nick had her and her bottle.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
71
The sound of the bugle having, at this moment,
sounded a kind of response to the hearty ejaculation
of the man of war, we again proceeded on our way,
and arrived in time for an early breakfast at the
hotel in Dawson-street.
The Faithful Dog.
SUGGESTED BY AN INCIDENT RELATED IN PRATT'S GLEANINGS.
A MERCHANT Once his homeward way,
With weighty bags of gold, pursued;
His faithful dog the livelong day
Alone companion of his road.
The sun-beam from meridian sky
Fierce on the fainting traveller glows;
Beneath a greenwood shelter nigh,
He seeks refreshing short repose.
What might have been the slumberer's dream,
The simple legend mentions not;
Behind him-whatsoe'er the theme-
The glittering treasure was forgot.


72
"A WREATH
But mark the dumb spectator's part:
He sees the unheeded treasure lie,
And acts with mute persuasive art
Each sign that zealous love can try.
The steed's impatient feet before
He barks, he crosses, leaps, and wheels,
And, whining, looks where lies the ore;
And wounds with bitter bites his heels.
The merchant deems the burning beam
Has parched the brain with fev'rish heat;
That he is mad-but yonder stream
Shall try the truth, and seal his fate.
The dog declines the limpid rill
And trampled, chidden, perseveres,
Each importuning effort still
But more confirms his master's fears.
Duty and safety now demand
The faithful favourite to die;
The merchant with reluctant hand
Aims trembling with averted eye.
Fatal that trembling aim, and true,
Tho' lingering life awhile remains,
Nor brooks the merchant's heart to view
The long lov'd favourite's dying pains.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
73
Onward with many a sigh he fared,
And sadly musing, thus he cried,
"Rather had I this treasure spared
Than thou dumb duteous friend had died."
The treasure-where-'tis gone, forgot!
Then all the truth flashed o'er his mind;
And back he journeys to the spot,
Where lay the golden heap behind.
What new awakening anguish wrung
That self-accusing master's breast,
When all the devious way along
He by his favourite's life-blood traced.
It still awaits him to behold
Returned and watchful in the shade,
As guardian true, beside the gold,
His faithful dog expiring laid.
The look of joy awaits him still,
Of love that death could not o'ercome,
The dying effort he must feel,
To lick the hand that sealed his doom.
When cares assail, when ill befals,
When negligence her trusts betrays,
That image mem'ry oft recals,
And o'er that dying look delays.


74
A WREATH

田
​Scenes in Freland.
ht
MEER
JOURNAL OF AN EXCURSION EQUATIC AND PEDESTRIAN.
Having acceded to the request of some English
friends, to accompany them in a tour of pleasure
and information, to the southern parts of our island,
it was suggested that we should go by sea to Cork
or Kinsale, and return by land, incedere pedibus;
visiting in our homeward journey, the Lakes of
Killarney and any other places which might be
deemed worthy of notice. My kind friends hav-
ing at once concurred in this arrangement, a suffi-
cient number of births were engaged for our ac-
commodation in a steam-packet about to proceed
southward on a coasting voyage; and with stream-
ers floating in a fair wind, on a lovely evening in


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
75
the month of May, we set sail from the Pigeon-
house, tide and steam combining their powerful
exertions in our favor. From the point of embark-
ation, and at the moment we quitted the land, the
city scenery looked really beautiful, nor did its
interest or splendor decrease as we receded from
the shore, and approached the opening of the
bay. It was the evening hour, and the gilded sun-
beams resting on the spires of the churches and
on the roofs of the houses, glittered in ten thou-
sand refracted reflections from the windows of the
more distant buildings on the southern side, throw-
ing a soft and mellowed radiance around the scene,
and giving to the public edifices the appearance
of towers and battlements, and castles,
"With domes fantastically set,
Like cupola or minaret."
As we moved along the liquid element, our at-
tention was alternately arrested by objects of a very
different character. Here a merchantman, deeply
laden, lay quietly at anchor, waiting for a flood
tide; while before us, on either hand, the har-
bours of Kingstown and Howth, extended their
sheltering arms, offering to the tempest-tost mari-
ner a safe asylum from the fury of the storm-
yonder a pleasure boat, crowded with the thought-
less and the gay, was seen lightly skimming the
surface of the billow; while at a little distance, the
-


76
A WREATH
care-worn fisherman, all lonely and alone," sat
pondering on the probable success which the re-
turning tide would afford to his exertions.
The scene was beautiful, yet it was not the
magnificent appearance which the city presented-
the broad and extended expanse of waters-nor yet
the variety of the vessels which surrounded us,
gaily decked in their many-coloured streamers—
that called forth our unbounded admiration. With
all this varied combination of gaiety and grandeur,
the prospect would have only afforded an idea
of sterile greatness. The softer shading would
still have been wanting, had the jutting rock, the
breeze-extended sail, or the dark blue sea, been
the only objects on which the eye could rest;
but when all along on either side the bay, the
whitened cottage and the noble mansion alternately
presented themselves to the gazer's view, encircled
with a carpet of emerald green, or peeping from
the bosom of a waving forest-while the eye could
range untired along an amphitheatre of hills, cloth-
ed in nature's richest foliage; or trace the mazy
windings of a deeply indented shore, by the rich-
ness and the beauty of its verdure, the mind
appeared anxious to linger over the prospect; and
the unbidden wish escaped us, that our vessel
might bear us less rapidly away from a scene so
pleasing.
.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
77
So completely absorbed were we in the pleasures
of contemplation, and so varied were the objects
we passed, that before we were at all aware of it,
we had reached that point when, from the course
which it was necessary the vessel should take, we
were about to lose sight of the scenery on which
we had gazed so intensely with so much delight.
-The sun was just about to set-a last ray still
lingered on the summit of the hills; and gave to
Howth and Bray a most interesting and majestic
appearance, as we turned the point, and were in-
troduced to a scene of a very different character:
the widely extended ocean, bounded on the one
side by the distant horizon, and on the other by
rocks of granite towering to the skies, and covered
with sea fowl, screaming the dirge of the departed
day. The shades of evening were fast descending,
and as the rising breeze had considerably agitated
the ocean wave, and we began to feel somewhat
disposed to be squeamish, it was resolved that we
should retire to our births; but just as we had
turned to descend into the cabin, our attention was
attracted by the simultaneous appearance of several
of those
Ruddy gems of changeful light
Bound on the dusky brow of night,
which Scott has so well described in some lines
written in an album. Several of the lights to be
G 2


78
A WREATH
seen from this point in the bay served to give a
finish to the picture, without which, altho' grand
in the extreme, it would not have been sufficiently
picturesque. Having retired to rest, we were in a
short time rocked to sleep by the motion of the vessel;
and to our infinite surprise, on awaking we found
ourselves within a few miles of our place of desti-
nation. Something having gone wrong with a part
of the machinery, and the vessel having in con-
sequence been unable to proceed for a short time,
we availed ourselves of the circumstance, and
having requested the captain to put us on shore
at a little cove or creek opposite to which we then
lay at anchor, we were soon again placed on terra
firma, about mid-way between Dungarvan and
Youghal: and without a moment's delay set for-
ward on our pedestrian tour, each of us having a
small travelling bag across his shoulder, a flask of
the native* in his pocket, and a tolerable sized shi-
lelah for a walking stick. Being determined on
seeing whatever was to be seen, and to make our-
selves acquainted as much as possible with the
manners and habits of the people residing in this
corner of the island, we proceeded straight forward
towards the best looking of a number of small huts
or cabins which we observed at a little distance
• Irish whiskey.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
79
from us, and which certainly bore a much greater
resemblance to the descriptions of the habitations
of the Esquimaux or the Greenlander sketched in the
journals of travellers, than to the dwelling-places
of a civilized people, a part and parcel of the great-
est nation in the world. Having reached the en-
trance of this miserable looking place, we found it
partially closed by some pieces of board rudely
fastened together, in the shape of a door. Nor was
there any thing like a window, save a small hole
in the side of the building, into which the crown of
an old hat had been stuffed by way of a shutter;
and which we naturally conjectured to have been
designed for admitting light. Having pulled a
string which we observed hanging at the door, and
which, as it afterwards appeared, we had correctly
supposed to be the 'open cessame' of the habita-
tion, a scene presented itself which bespoke a far
greater degree of wretchedness and misery than we
could even have anticipated from the cold and
comfortless appearance of the outside. The entire
of the hut contained but one apartment; the walls
were of mud, and so low, that on entering the door
-which by the way we observed had to serve the
double purpose of an entrance to the inhabitants,
and a ventilator for the smoke, there being no
chimney—we were obliged to stoop considerably
-the roof was formed of branches of trees laid


80
A WREATH
transversely, and covered with sods, through which
the rain appeared to have made its way in seve-
ral places, as the floor, which was of clay, was
completely saturated, evidently with the falling drop
-ceiling it had none, with the exception of a plen-
tiful supply of chickweed which was growing spon,
taneously from the sods with which the branches
were covered, and which were so much bulged in,
that we could scarcely stand erect. At the one
end of this miserable abode, half naked, and bent
nearly double, over a few expiring turf embers, sat
an aged female, on whose emaciated frame, and
smoke japanned countenance, wretchedness and
poverty had indelibly engraved their names in the
most legible characters-she looked like the anato-
my
of death; and labouring under the combined
effects of cold, of want, and of disease induced by
the dampness of her dwelling, was unable to move
out of the position in which she had been placed,
without inflicting upon herself the most excruciat-
ing agony. At the moment we made our appearance
she was busily engaged with a string of podreens or
beads, over which, as we afterwards learned, she
had been saying her prayers. Our abrupt entrance
seemed to occasion considerable surprise, but hav-
ing devoutly crossed herself, and muttered one or
two sentences in a language which we did not un-
derstand, she most cordially invited our honours to


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
81
sit down; at the same time hoping we would excuse
her rising, as she had not been able to support
herself without help for the last ten years. Much
pleased with the courtesy of the poor invalid,
and wishing to know something more of the man-
ners and habits of the inhabitants of the hut, we
were about to accept of her invitation, when on
looking around us, we could discover nothing on
which to seat ourselves, with the exception of a
couple of pieces of flag or stone and an old box or
chest without a lid or covering-these, with an old
iron pot, and a large wicker basket containing a few
small potatoes, appeared in fact to constitute the
entire furniture and contents of the cot-in one
corner of which, lying on a bundle of moss or heath
thinly strewed over the damp clay floor, and which ap-
peared to have been used as a bed, we descried a well
featured and rather good looking infant boy, per-
fectly naked, and sleeping as tranquilly as if he
were reposing on a bed of down-beside him sat a
small lurcher dog, watching apparently with the
greatest solicitude his sleeping charge.
We had just seated ourselves by the side of the
old woman, who was explaining to us that the in-
fant and the cabin were the property of her daughter
and her son-in-law, that the former had gone to the
bog for some turf, and would be back in a short
time, and that the latter was helping to set praties


82
A WREATH
for the squire, for which he got six pence per day,
and which was to be allowed in the quarter's rent of
the cabin and potato ground-when a tall, ema-
ciated, toil-worn female of about five and twenty
years of age, whose only covering was an old
chemise, a few rags of an old petticoat, and the
remains of an old red cloth cloak thrown about her
shoulders, entered the hut, heavily laden with a
bundle of peat or turf, which she carried on her head;
and followed by five or six half-naked, half-starved
children, the oldest of whom could not have been
more than ten years of age, each bearing a load
proportioned to its strength. Having deposited
their burdens in the middle of the floor, and stared
upon us for some time as apparently unaccustomed
to the visits of decent looking strangers, the mother
of the flock, who from seeing us in possession of her
cabin, appeared anxious to know with what intent
we had entered it, dropping a curtesy to the
ground, broke the silence by observing, "I suppose
gentlemen, yese are guagers, and that yese are on
the hunt for patteen; but, in troth, and I think as
how it is that yere honours need not have given
yerselves the trouble of coming all this length of
way about such a business, for as sure as the
blessed Virgin's in heaven you would'nt find the
full of your tooth of any kind o' liquor that ever
was made or malted, from the one end of the town-


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
83
land to the other, save and except in his honour
the Squire's house on the Hill; and sure, agra, if
there were a barrel full of it to be got for the axin,
Denis O'Donoho 's the last man in the parish who
would be after letting a drap of it see the inside of
his cabin, since poor Paddy O'Shaughnessy was
transported to Botomy Bay, just for helpin widow
O'Dogherty to make a thimble full for their own
private drinkin'-och, gentlemen, and sure if yese
had but another tear to cry in the whole world yese
would have cried it to see him dragged away from
his poor wife and helpless wee things, all for having
helped to make a bare pint of the cratur from the
widow's own corn-and may bad luck attend y'
Lary O'Brien, you cowld hearted informer, every
day that the sun shines upon you; may y' yet
want a penny to buy nails for your brogues, and
may there not be a pipe full of tobacco to smoke at
your wake-but I ax your honour's pardons for in-
terrupting you so, for sure my heart bleeds sore for
the poor woman thrown on the wide world with her
half dozen helpless childer." Having assured Mrs.
O'Donoho that we were neither guagers nor excise-
men of any kind, she looked rather more pleasantly
upon us, and turning with a significant grin or
smile towards one of our party, observed, " Arrah,
then, honey, if yese be neither guagers nor excise-
men, and ma-be ye're some of those folk who rents


84
A WREATH
the tithes from the clargy, and who grows fat and
fair on the hardships of us poor hard-working,
half-fed miserable craters; and who, as father Pat
tould us, last Sunday was a week, are striving to
get his Majesty (the Lord be merciful to his sowl,
and grant that he may yet die a member of the true
church) to make the poor pay tithes for their bit
pratie ground; but why should I suppose that such
handsome nice looking gentlefolk as yese are should
belong to such a set of varmint, and yet what else
could have brought yese to the cabin of Denis
O'Donoho; but indeed I thinks as how yere mis-
taken; for the blessed Virgin be good to me if ther's
a thing in the parish worth tithing, save and except
what belongs to his Honour on the Hill, for God help
us, the praties have run short, and ther's hardly as
much left as will keep us alive till the next crap are
ready for diggin-but ther's the gorsoons,* yere ho-
nour, and ma-be ye'd like to take a tithe of them—
ther's plenty of them, agra, more than we can get
praties to fill their mouths wi'." As we found it
impossible to edge in a word of explanation, in our
defence, until the good woman had concluded her
suppositions, we were obliged, in our turn, to
make a formal reply, setting forth briefly who and
what we were, and by what train of circumstances
• Children.
T


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
85
we had been led to visit her cottage. Our explana-
tion having fully satisfied Mrs. O'Donoho that we
were neither excisémen nor tithe proctors, she took
the greatest pains imaginable to give us all the in-
formation we desired; and by way of making us
more comfortable, proceeded to place some turf on
the hearth; but having, for want of better bellows,
applied her mouth to the embers, unfortunately
the poor woman's kindness was lost upon us, as
quite a contrary effect was produced to that which
she intended, the quantity of ashes blown about
by her puffing having made us white as millers,
while the smoke which was ascending in volumes,
and which could only find an exit by the door, had
so powerfully affected o ur eyes, that the tears were'
beginning to flow, and we were obliged to prepare
for decamping. On our rising to go away, Mrs.
O'Donoho, (who had just commenced washing some
potatoes,) with an expression of real hospitality on
her countenance, observed, "and sure if yere ho-
nours would but just stay a bit longer, and ate a
pratie with Denis O'Donoho, who will be in from
the squire's in less than no time, he would be the
proud man to see such fine gentlefolk seated in his
poor cabin-but sure, acushla, I takes great liber-
ties in speaking so to your honours, only as I know
how it is that Denis O'Donoho, (the Lord be good
to him,) never likes to be after letting any traveller
H


86
A WREATH
leave his bit of a cabin without breaking his fast;
not to spake of such gentlefolk as yese are."
Having excused ourselves on the ground of being
obliged to pursue our journey, and having distri-
buted a few shillings among the children, we took
our leave of this genuine specimen of the hut of an
Irish peasant, followed with the blessings of Mrs.
O'Donoho and her family, and their most ardent
prayers that all the saints and angels in heaven
would be merciful to us; at the same time having
our feelings deeply touched with the wretchedness
and misery by which the poor people were sur-
rounded, and with no little surprise that persons
suffering so many hardships and privations, should
appear to think so lightly of them, and should feel
so grateful for any trifling act of kindness.
Having learned from Mrs. O'Donoho that the fes-
tival of St. Eglon was to take place that day at
Ardmore, a few miles distant, at which various
acts of penance would be performed by pilgrims
and voteens, we resolved on making the best of our
way to it without farther delay. We had not
proceeded far until we overtook a number of per-
sons-some halt, some lame, and some blind-all
moving forward as fast as the circumstances of their
various cases would permit them, to celebrate the
festival of the Saint. Joining company with an old
man and his wife, who were trotting along at the


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
87
rate of about two miles an hour, on a high-backed
shelty, apparently nearly as old as themselves-we
commenced our inquiries as to the inhabitants, &c.
The old man was not only very communicative, but
very intelligent, and being occasionally helped out
in a sentence by his better half, was to us a source
of great entertainment. He was well acquainted
with every individual resident within the compass
of twenty miles; knew to whom the land of the
neighbourhood belonged of right if the real owner
had it; and withal, old as he was, hoped he would
never die till he should see the right owner in pos-
session. His own great-grandfather, he informed
us, had been a prince of the country, and his wife
was descended from a line of kings. He dwelt with
seeming pleasure and delight on the days which
were; and contrasted them with the wretchedness
that now every where prevailed; and summed up
the whole by laying the entire blame on the intro-
duction of the Protestant religion into the country.
As it was not our object to dispute either the old
man's claims to ancient greatness, or his opinions
on religious matters, we were very good friends;
and with all his notions, we could discover that he
was of a humane and benevolent disposition. In
the course of our discourse we learned from him
that the generality of the cabins in the country were
exactly the same as the one in which we had been,


88
A WREATH
with the exception that some of them had a kind of
chimney, formed of wattles and ozier slips, plaster-
ed with clay, which sloped up gradually till they met
in a hole in the roof, and thus suffered the smoke to
escape; that in general in each of those wretched
hovels, furnished as before described, from five to
ten persons kennelled together, whose only food was
potatoes and salt, one scanty meal of which in a
day had often to suffice, when the head of the
family could not obtain employment, which was
very frequently the case; two meals in the day,
he said, were the most the poor people ever got—of
flesh meat many of them knew not the taste, and
even the luxury of a little buttermilk they were
seldom indulged with, the price of it being far be-
yond their means. "Och, Sir," said the old man,
wiping the big tear from his aged eyes," if ye had
been in this part of the country at the time the
typhus raged in it, yere hearts must have been
hard indeed if ye could ha' borne the sights which
were seen every day amangst us. Whenever
disorder entered a cabin its effects were dreadfu’—
as, from being obliged to sleep thegether, and to
breathe the same unwholesome air, scarcely one of a
family escaped; and when the disorder left the
house, than those it left behind ye could not find
greater objects of compassion in any corner of his
majesty's empire."


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
89
Having now reached Ardmore, which we found
thronged with devotees, our fellow-travellers im-
mediately began to prepare themselves for the ce-
remonies of the day, by throwing off their shoes
and stockings, and tucking up their clothes consi-
derably above their knees.
They commenced their devotions by walking three
times round a tower, which they told us was built by
St. Eglon in a night; saying their prayers on their
beads, and kneeling four times each circuit. From
this they resorted to a vault or cave, where a woman
sold to each pilgrim or voteen a handful of earth,
assuring the purchaser that it was the real ashes of
the Saint, and that no evil could befal the individual
who was possessed of it. After approaching on their
knees an image set up in the vault, and embracing
it with great reverence, they next proceeded to the
ruins of an old chapel, and after encompassing it
three times, all the while repeating a certain num-
ber of prayers, they entered and went from one end
to the other on their bare knees, praying as they pro-
ceeded, and embracing the chancel of the chapel
when they had done. They next washed their feet
in a pond of holy water in the vicinity of the chapel,
and after purchasing a draught of water from a holy
well close by the entrance, they proceeded to the
last act of their devotion, which consisted in passing
three times under a great stone by the sea-shore.
H 2


90
A WREATH
This stone, we were informed, came from Rome,
on the surface of the water, and landed on the spot
where it now rests. In passing round and under
this stone, one followed another in the way that
children play hide and go seek ;' the devotees
were on their bare knees, and as the ground is filled
with sharp stones, many of them were cut. They
pleased themselves, however, with the idea, that the
merit of their devotion was enhanced by the severity
of the pains they endured.
After having gone through their various evolu-
tions, they then sat down together in parties, and
'laughed a little, and sang a little, and joked a
little, and sported a little, and courted a little-and
(those who had it) swigged the flowing can.' Won-
derful are the cures which the virtues of the holy
well are said to perform-the blind are enabled to
see, the deaf to hear, and the lame to dance and
caper;-while those who are not cured eagerly en-
quire "Who has got the blessing?"
Having remained at Ardmore until it was too far
advanced in the evening to think of proceeding any
distance, we determined on putting the hospitality
of some squire in the neighbourhood to the test,
and accordingly trudged on our weary way until
we came to a house, the owner of which we con-
cluded, from its appearance, must at least be above
the middle rank in life—and putting as much brass


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
91
into our faces as we were able, rapped at the door
just as the gloom of night had thrown its shadows
across the horizon. It was opened by an elderly
gentleman, who, on our mentioning to him that we
were strangers in the country, and requesting to
know if he could direct us to the nearest place
where we could obtain lodging for the night, most
courteously invited us in, assuring us that he
should feel truly happy in being favoured with the
pleasure of our company. Nothing loth, we cheer-
fully availed ourselves of the kind offer; and never
did we enjoy a pleasanter evening than we spent
in the hospitable mansion of
He was
a perfect specimen of what is called a real Irish
gentleman--and the best of every thing his house
could afford was produced for our use. My English
friends were not able for some time to throw off
their natural reserve; but our kind host having
after supper plied them pretty well with his moun-
tain-dew, which he assured them had not a head-
ache in a gallon of it, they soon became social as
any of the party, and enjoyed in a high degree the
pleasantry of the squire, who continued to amuse
us with anecdotes connected with his hunting and
shooting excursions. We retired to rest much
pleased with our hospitable reception; and arose
with the morning's sun, determined to start forward
• A name for illicit whiskey.
·


92
A WREATH
on our journey. Here, however, we found that our
good fortune the evening before was only a foretaste
of what was to follow-the gallant squire perempto-
rily insisting on our remaining with him for at least
two or three days. As no excuse would avail us, we
at length agreed to accept his friendly invitation,
and he promised we should not repent having com-
plied with his request, for he had two or three as
good dogs and guns as were to be met with in the
country, and plenty of powder and shot, which
were completely at our service. Happening, how-
ever, accidentally to cast my eye on a newspaper
that arrived while we were at breakfast, I disco-
vered an advertisement relative to a circumstance
of such consequence to me, that I had at once to
make
up my mind to proceed homewards without a
moment's delay-leaving my young friends to pur-
sue their course as they thought proper. Having
previously obtained from one of them a promise to
keep a correct journal of their proceedings, and
having sincerely thanked our hospitable entertainer
for his polite attention, I was about to proceed on
foot to the nearest town in which I could procure a
chaise; but here again Irish good-nature shone
conspicuous; a pair of saddle-horses and a servant
were instantly got in readiness, and I was sent
forward on my journey in as great style as if I had
been the son of an Irish king.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
93
EXTRACTS FROM THE JOURNAL OF
CONTINUATION.
2
IN
Castle Rack-Rent, May 20th, 1825,
These Irish are an extraordinary set-very hospi-
table no doubt, but would as soon shoot a man as give
him his dinner-all alike to them. Just discovered
that our kind host, who has entertained us so sump-
tuously, on account of a number of small debts,
dares not shew his nose off his own estate, upon
the confines of which it seems no bailiff would
think himself safe to venture, as the Squire would
certainly be rescued by his tenantry, probably at
the expense of the bailiff's life. Quere-on what
principle, or from what motive do the peasantry
protect individuals under whom they drag out an
existence by no means so comfortable as the slaves
in the colonies ?-presumptive proof that if well
treated the Irish peasant would make a kind and
affectionate tenant. Would it not be something
more rational in the Irish gentry to pay their debts,
and improve the condition of the cottiers, than to
spend all they are worth, and more, in entertaining
those who scarcely thank them for it? For the
benefit of speculators wishing to see Ireland, have
ascertained that it is only necessary to get an Irish
gentleman into your debt, in order to procure prime


94
A WREATH.
good quarters and the best of good cheer, free of
all expense, as long as you wish to stay, provided
always you do not ask for payment of your account
-no debt paid by an Irish gentleman until a few
pounds of law costs be added. Ireland fine soil for
multiplying population, as, amid all their misery,
no cabin is without ten or a dozen brats. Mem.-
mention this to my wife, when I get one.
May 21.
Just parted our new friend, with a promise to
spend a month with him the next summer!—well
mounted-determined to proceed by the Black-
water river, along the banks of which, during our
excursions, we perceived an infinite variety of the
most delightful scenery-old castles, old churches,
and old monasteries, finely diversified with wood
and water, and gentlemen's seats in modern archi-
tecture. Reminded of a scene in the Lady of the
Lake by a girl rowing a cot or skiff across, and
keeping time to her paddles with an Irish ditty.
Fermoy, May 26.
Detained so long at Castle Rack-rent, and by the
beauties of the Blackwater, that we were obliged
to post it here in a return chaise. Roads near this
place remarkably good-travelling in Ireland much
improved since Miss Edgeworth painted her Cari-
catures-no red hot pokers now used for starting


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
95
the horses. Note-When horses are well fed they
generally work well-Propose to the Secretary of
State for the Home Department to recommend
some plan which would enable the refractory Irish
to procure themselves food and clothing-have no
doubt, if well fed, they would work well also-and
as this would save the Government the expense of
keeping up a standing army in the country to op-
pose Captain Rock, as well as that of transporting
so many of the bold peasantry* to North America
and Botany Bay, it might be worth consideration.
Mem.-To publish a concise History of Ireland for
the benefit of the Government and the people of
England generally, who seem to know less of the
real character and condition of the Irish peasantry
than they do of the customs and manners of the
Chinese. Wonderful improvement in the state of
the lower order in this part of the country, said to
be effected by the public spirit of a single indivi-
dual, a Mr. Anderson. Quere If his example
were generally followed by the landlords of Ire-
land, besides benefitting the poor, would not the
amount of their own rent-rolls be greatly increased?
• "Princes and lords may flourish or may fade,
A breath can make them as a breath hath made;
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroyed, can never be supplied."
DESERTED VILLAGE.


96
A WREATH
Killarney, June 1.
Delightful scenery-nothing like it to be seen in
England or Scotland-to attempt describing it were
an idle effort, unless indeed to me
"
"Were given
To dip my brush in dyes of heaven."
-Must be visited and inspected, in order to form
the most distant idea of its beauty and grandeur.-
What stronger proof of the miserable recreancy
of the Irish gentry than their desertion of this
enchanting place at the present propitious sea-
son-some spending their summer at an English
watering-place, where they are fleeced without
mercy, and laughed at without measure; others
in Paris, where the exchange is in every sense of
the word against them. Thus the vain and frivo-
lous portion of the gentry and nobility flit about
from place to place, leaving to poverty and neglect
the country which gave them birth, and whence
they derive their whole support; for destitute, in-
deed, would they be without the labour and sweat
of the Irish peasant, who in return obtains a hovel
not fit for a pig, and rags that would disgrace a
beggar. Abbey of Mucruss a very picturesque ob-
ject; perhaps that which most interests you' in the
course of your peregrinations, from its contrasting
the recollections of the past and the present.-
Within its precincts numerous devotees saying


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
97
their prayers, and weeping and howling over the
graves of departed friends. The cloister is small,
and the branches of an immense ycw tree which
grows in the centre of it would effectually prevent a
monk of the present day from reading his breviary,
if he were so inclined.-In the cemetery, skulls,
bones, and coffins, strewed about in careless pro-
fusion-fine place for nervous people to do penance.
N. B.—About five-and-forty years ago a man of
the name of Drake took up his residence in the
abbey, where he remained for seven years; sleep-
ing every night in a bed formed of coffin boards
in one of the recesses of the windows, the walls
being immensely thick. His beard was of an enor-
mous length, and his dress, something half pilgrim
half hermit, corresponded. His food he procured
by calling from time to time at the houses of gentle-
men in the neighbourhood, with all of whom he
soon became well acquainted, yet to none of them
would he divulge the particulars of the former part
of his life, nor the secret cause which induced him
to impose upon himself such an extraordinary
penance. Having, however, in the course of my
perigrinations, accidentally met with an old man,
who had been particularly intimate with the hermit,
and who had in his possession a bundle of pa-
pers which belonged to that eccentric non-descript,
shall probably on some future occasion give the
I


98
A WREATH
eventful story of his life to the world. On his first
taking up his residence in the Abbey, the young
people made several attempts to frighten him from
his purpose, but the hermit being found proof
against all their devices, he was ever afterwards
permitted to enjoy his self-chosen retirement un-
molested. On our return to the inn where we
had stopped during the night, had a fine opportu-
nity of hearing a specimen of that mother wit for
which the Irish are so renowned-one of my young
friends seeing a fine looking young girl washing
a basket of potatoes at a cabin door, addressed her
with, "how d' ye do, my dear; how is mamma and
papa, and how are the little pigs ?" to which the
good-natured girl, with a look full of arch-expres-.
sion, instantly replied, "thanks to yer honour, I'm
very well, and mamma and papa are very well, and
the little pigs sent their compliments to you." By.
the way, the bon mot ascribed to an Irish peasant,
who, on being asked why he kept his pig in his
cabin,' replied, "arrah, honey, who has a better,
right to it, isn't it he who pays the rent?" while it
is literally true, may be taken as a fair specimen of
that gaieté de cœur, that peculiar trait in the Irish
character, which enables the individual possessing
it to jest even with his own misfortunes. We had.
also a practical exemplification of that sagacity pro-
verbial in the Irish character: a crowd had gathered
6


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
99
—
round a post-chaise at the extremity of the town-
having enquired the cause, we were informed that
a constable had arrived in it with a prisoner; but
it being the nature of a post-chaise to have two
doors, in getting out each had taken a different
one, and the culprit had consequently escaped,
to the great joy of the spectators.-This inhe-
rent love of justice is also, it seems, a prominen'
feature in the Irish character, and must greatly
tend to the due execution of the law, which is the
perfection of reason. This principle was finely ex-
emplified in these two instances,-the constable
being of a superior order, took natural precedency
of his companion, and walked into the parlour
this was the perfection of reason in point of eti-
quette. The prisoner, on the other hand, instead
of following the bailiff, ran away as fast as his legs
could carry him—and this nobody can deny was
also the perfection of reason on his part, which
leads, or rather perhaps drives us into those mea-
sures which contribute most to our well-being.
Clogheen, June 1st,
In the course of our peregrinations arrived at the
caves of Clogheen, which I strongly recommend to
the attention of all curious gentlemen, particularly
to such of our modern poets as are skilled in the
bathos, or noble art of sinking.


100
A WREATH
Caves are generally found under ground-at
least those we visited are in this predicament.-
The entrance is a fissure between two masses of
stone about two feet and a half wide-very awful—
particularly to corpulent people. Through this you
descend by means of a ladder about thirty feet,
and are landed on a quantity of wet mud at the
bottom of the precipice. Note-Ladders in Ireland
are of two descriptions, those that have rungs,
and those without them-that furnished to me and
my companions by the Cicerone of the caves, was
of a mixed description, every second rung wanting
-a circumstance calculated to excite a very great
degree of nervousness in irritable constitutions—
notwithstanding, effected our descent, and by the
aid of guides and tallow candles, explored those in-
teresting regions to a considerable extent-under-
stand, however, that a complete examination has
never yet been effected-the long passages, in the
words of Gray, being found to lead to nothing, cer-
tainly nothing that can be called a termination; not
that I would have it inferred from this that they are
interminable-whoever puts such a construction on
the words, certainly imposes a forced one.
The droppings of the water from the roofs of
these caverns being impregnated with lime, have
formed pillars, which are, however, said to be by
no means as brilliant as the Stalactites of Antipa-


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
101
ros, which as I never saw I cannot decide. After
traversing several of the subterranean apartments
for about three quarters of an hour, emerged into
day-light, much pleased with my excursion, though
not a little chagrined at the situation of my pan-
taloons, which had suffered considerably in the
course of the perambulation. Apropos-The term
pantaloon has hitherto exceedingly puzzled ety-
mologists, who are men generally of great labour,
but of little ingenuity. The word is evidently a
compound of Greek and French-Pan in the former
language signifying every thing, applies most ap-
positely to this article of dress, which answers the
combined purposes of breeches and stockings-the
French, who had it no doubt from the Athenians,
have added talon, Anglice heel, alluding to its
reaching that part in the animal economy. Should
this derivation meet the eye of any individual about
to give a new edition of Johnson's Dictionary, hope
he will acknowledge from whence he derived such
valuable information.
Strongly advised to return to Dublin by Cunne-
mara and the Bog of Allan-fine idea for a book-
maker!-If it be true, as a late author has said,
that a man might write a book on what a single
street in London would suggest, what might be
expected from the hints to be derived from the Bog
of Allan or the wilds of Cunnemara-districts which
I 2


102
A WREATH
exceed in extent many thousand times the surface
occupied by all the capital cities in Europe. Ima-
gination sinks under the idea, and the press groans
at the bare mention of such an exhaustless fund of
materials. [Cætera desunt.]
ECHOES OF KILLARNEY.
UPON Killarney's silver waves
No more the nightly star-beams rest;
As yet the shamrock's folded leaves
Were not expanded to the east.
So still the early morning was,
So hushed the scene-so slumbering all,
That from the early summer rose
The silent leaf was heard to fall.
I saw a bark glide o'er the lake,
Her sails to morning breath were given;
And now Killarney's echoes wake,
Prolonging sounds that swell to heaven.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
103
'Twas not the bugle's blast return'd,
No mimic thunder mock'd the sky;
But all the lovely echoes learn'd
A gentler voice to lift on high.
'Twas the poor peasant's hymn of morn,
Responding over lakes and lands;
Sweeter than tutor'd pipe or horn,
Or symphonies of hidden bands.
'Twas solemn, in that twilight dim,
To hear the fearful cliff and cave
Reverberate the holy hymn
In thousand voices o'er the wave.
It seem'd as, waked from long repose,
Now wondering nature first adored,
And glorying as the day-star rose,
Herself the loud hosannas poured.
Ye echoes from recesses lone,
Did not your lingering voice repeat
Some harmonies, than earthly tone
More true, more lasting, and more sweet?


104
A WREATH
HINTS FOR PROMOTING
Genuine Conversation.
As an incalculable quantity of good or evil is de-
rivable from conversation, it is to be regretted that
what is at present generally substituted for this
prime ingredient of social felicity, possesses scarce-
ly a single characteristic of the genuine article.-
What now passes current under the name, is chiefly
composed of petty and contemptible scandal-de-
tails which reflect discredit on the retailers, and
which cannot possibly serve any purpose but to
pander to the evil propensities of impertinent curi-
osity. In this way evening after evening is now
spent, and what are termed social parties, break
up
without any individual carrying away a single idea
that could contribute either to pleasure or profit—
that could enrich the fancy, or improve the under-
standing.
At a period when so much time and money are
lavished on the education of females, it is rather
surprising that so little stress has been laid on the
necessity of gathering materials for an accomplish-
ment which certainly yields to none other in con-
stant and delightful pleasure. And it may here be
observed, en nassant, in regard to females, that by


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
105
of
the right employment of their time, not only in
reading, but in reflecting on what they read, they
might render themselves much more companion-
able to men of sense and information, than many
them are at present; besides rendering it unneces-
sary, when in their society, for want of a subject
more suited to their capacities and understand-
ings, to introduce such subjects as the weather,
the fashions, or the theatre.
Combined with a general knowledge of the hu-
man mind, good nature, good temper, and good
sense are indispensable ingredients in the character
of the individual who purposes taking a full share
in general conversation. It is also essential that the
memory be stored with pleasant topics-that there
be in fact an adequate reservoir of agreeable and
useful information. Amusement is requisite; but
it should be sustained by an interchange of mind,
and not by an unmeaning tissue of common-place
observations.
In general conversation, every subject which
might in the most remote degree be calculated to
wound the feelings of any individual present, should
carefully be abstained from; or where the matter
in discussion may appear at all irksome or unplea-
sant, it should not be pressed, and even a favorite
topic should not be urged beyond the bounds of
entertainment. It should also be remembered that


106
A WREATH
real wit never wounds: the scintillations of genius
and spirit resemble in their brilliancy alone the
sparks emitted in the collision of flint and steel-
and the materials on which they fall must indeed-
be inflammable, wherever they kindle the fire of
contention or ill-will.
Egotism, it is presumed, need scarcely be noticed
-it is too notorious an evil to need observation.
The destructive effects of mendacity are, however,
worthy of notice: No man is justified on any ac-
count in saying what is false, or in supporting for
the sake of triumph in argument what he feels to
be untrue. A great many plume themselves upon
their skill in paradoxes, and urge them with an
earnestness but too apt to impose on those who are
timid or ignorant. It has been sometimes proposed
to resist this abuse by opposing paradox to paradox,
and by drawing the long bow as liberally as your
opponent. But this is a bad remedy, for the exer-
tion frequently habituates to the offence it is in-
tended to punish; and he who begins the redresser
of the marvellous in this way, may end in becoming
a finished gasconader. To support what is false or
wrong, merely as an engine to display a flippant
smartness or superficial ingenuity, is to suborn
the faculties to the execution of very dangerous and
disgusting work, which may injure, and must tire,
and which no person of clear judgment, and pro-


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
107
per principle will attempt. Silence, or a sudden
change of the conversation, is the most effectual
mode of repressing this enormity.
Obscenity and swearing are gradually giving
way, especially in the company of the fair sex;
and double entendre is on its last legs, if it be not
resuscitated in respect to French taste and fashion.
No man with the smallest pretensions to good breed-
ing would now venture to insult a modest female,
by allusions even of ingenious grossness; and all
attempts of this kind should, therefore, be consi-
dered as personal affronts by females of respectabi-
lity. If women would in this way only assert their
own dignity, the animals who could thus attempt to
insult them would speedily be extirpated.
Tellers of long stories, especially if they take
snuff, should now and then get such a gentle hint
from those who can make free with them, as may
induce them to correct the error. Where it is per-
severed in, a nap or a fit of sneezing will be found
an effectual remedy-this, however, is recommended
as a dernier resort. It may often be observed that
good sense without fluency has but little chance with
leathern lungs and brazen faces; and that many
a modest man, whose head is exceedingly well ap-
pointed with useful information, is every day put
down by voluble garulity. Loud and long talking
acts as an absolute embargo on the stock of know-


108
A WREATH
ledge, which persons under the influence of mo-
desty are generally well able to supply; it is there-
fore absolutely necessary to affix some peculiar
mark of disapprobation upon such engrossers, who
seize upon every topic, and endeavour to forestal
all that much wiser heads could bring forward
upon the occasion; and whose only qualifications
are assurance and verbosity. At all events, it
should be made imperative upon those who talk
much, to acquire a tolerable knowledge of the Eng-
lish language, and not to disgust their hearers with
such intolerable solecisms as many of our men of
taste and fashion, so called, are commonly guilty
of. Variety is necessary; and he who understands
the theory of conversation, can sustain interest and
amusement in a way which, to those who are igno-
rant of the art, appears quite incomprehensible. A
variety of topics, independent of the positive plea-
sure it produces, has the additional advantage of
calling into activity the minds of others, and of in-
ducing them to subscribe whatever portion of in-
formation they possess. The prevalence of one
subject, or one talker, therefore, infallibly pre-
vents this, and closes up the avenues of instruction,
which it is the province of genuine conversation to
open.
Another mischief should also be studiously
avoided; and that is debate. This can be best pre-


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
109
vented by never introducing subjects which tend
materially to arouse or irritate the feelings or pre-
judices of society;-the social hour is not the time
suited to any thing like altercation. If this should
ever occur, the conversation should immediately be
turned into another channel, and this the person of
sense and information will always endeavour to do.
By attending to the foregoing simple rules, con-
versation might, in small circles especially, be
rendered the instrument of very superior gratifica-
tion. It is to be lamented, however, that but few
persons possess that spring of mind which flows
always abundantly, and sometimes to waste, with
knowledge, temper, and discretion, in the perfection
essential to conversation ;-few possess the happy
art of repressing themselves and of exciting others
-of preserving harmony, and at the same time of
promoting discussion of keeping back disagreeable
subjects, and of making the best selection of those
that are agreeable-and of sustaining pleasantry,
without stumbling into rudeness or personality.—
When it is recollected that there is a time of life in
which the interchange of well-regulated and culti-
vated minds becomes the greatest gratification
which earth can afford, it would surely appear
worth an exertion to render fashionable such a ra-
tional mode of spending time in the younger years
of existence.
H
K


110
A WREATH
THE RETROSPECT.
Does the wave of the ocean soft flowing,
A trace of the vessel retain ?
Does ought of the night zephyr blowing,
On the hill-flower at morning remain ?
The red ray of eve on the billow,
Will its mutable loveliness stay?
Or the beam on the sick mourner's pillow,
It cheers him-but will it delay?
Does the wing of the dove as she passes,
Leave a record behind on the air?
Does the sweet dream that melody raises,
Abide in the soul of despair?
Ye moments of youth that have fleeted,
What traces have ye left behind?
Oh! where are your wild dreams repeated,
On the sun-beam, the wave, or the wind?
Recollections, around ye may hover,
And sigh your cold sepulchre o'er;
With pain the dear relic recover,
But the life charm, alas, is no more!


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
111
In his chains the poor maniac sleeping,
Holds the sceptre of liberty's throne;
Redresses the pale captive weeping;
Tears wake him—his kingdom is gone.
So I, when remembrance has crown'd me
With the rose of the past that she feigns,
Am waked from the Eden around me,
By the wound of the briar which remains.
A FRAGMENT.
Cold, cold, and joyless is the heart
Which frowning fate has doom'd to part
From home endeared, from friends beloved,
Yet leaves them careless and unmoved.
Oh! let me share the anguish'd sigh,
And feel the sad and scalding tear,
Which rend the heart, and dim the eye,
When losing those we hold so dear,
Rather than be the wretch to own
That cold and senseless heart of stone.


112
A WREATH
On Poetic Composition.
It is the remark of a judicious critic, that Poetry
has latterly been obliged to submit itself to fashion;
-mannerism has become the substitute for charac-
ter, oddity for meaning, the infinite and indefinite
of description for thought, and a grotesque jingle
for harmony of numbers. This latter excellence,
which is the very soul of poetry, and without which
the term has no meaning, has, in many instances,
been voluntarily abandoned by such men as Crabbe
and Scott, and still more wantonly by Southey and
Wordsworth, and the other flaccid Lake Poets,
whose nerves seem completely relaxed by the influ-
ence of a damp climate; and they have again
courted a barbarism from which the roughness of a
northern language had rendered it so very difficult
to emerge. Such attempts at reviving ancient un-
couthness, like the cements which are at present
invented in imitation of stone, may answer their
purpose for a period, but a few rains succeeded by
a few frosts, eventually lay open the imposition in
the edifice; and such will no doubt be the fate of
the new fangled tales of chivalry which have of
late years appeared at the root and stem of the
poetical tree. The author who aspires to after


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
113
ages should not be the mere pliant slave of what-
ever bad literary taste may be prevalent in the age
in which he lives, nor furbish up old spears and
helmets, or rake in hospitals, or hash up the cold
leavings of a comfortless philosophy, or condescend
to any of the tricks that are practised by thorough-
going literary jugglers, who vend their nostrums
through the aid of extensive advertising, and the
puffing of some merry-andrew critic, who helps to
tow his friends forward down the stream of oblivion.
Formerly it was only the mob of gentlemen who
wrote with ease-but now authors by profession,
and some who possess what Dryden says is the
lawful title to authorship," the vocation of pover-
ty," are as lax as their betters, and only go nine
months with an epic poem. Some are no doubt
excited to this monstrous fecundity by the hope of
gain; but in acting thus they must relinquish all
claim to immortality. In poetical compositions,
whether long or short, it should ever be remem-
bered that no exuberance of imagination, or co-
piousness of diction, will atone for toil, pains, and
scrupulous-nay, almost fastidious attention to the
nice adaptation of each word to the impression
intended to be made to the exclusion of syno-
nymes-to the application of the rare and happy
epithet-to the fine and delicate turn which embel-
lishes a thought trivial and familiar-and above
K 2


114
A WREATH
all to the cultivation of that virtue which modern
English writers utterly explode, conciseness. No
doubt the vulgar and illiterate love a length and
train of circumstances in narration; and this is
not confined to the little and to the low, but to the
great and rich vulgar and illiterate tribe. It fixes
their attention-keeps their expectation in suspense,
supplies the defect of their minute and lifeless
imaginations, and keeps pace with the slow motion
of their own thoughts. Tell them a story as you
would tell it to a man of wit, it will appear to them
as an object seen in the night by a flash of light-
ning; but when you have placed it in its various
lights and various positions, they will come at last
to see and feel it as well as others. It is not for
such, however, that the author who aspires to im-
mortality should write.
"
Gray, in one of his letters, observes "there is a
tout ensemble of sound as well as of sense in poeti-
cal composition always necessary to its perfection.
What is gone before still dwells upon the ear, and
insensibly harmonizes with the present line, as in
that succession of fleeting notes which is called
melody." And surely this is not to be disregarded
by any who are capable of understanding the effect
which such an arrangement produces. The greatest
perfection in poetry is that ease which proceeds from
or is the consequence of labour and attention; and


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
115
which resembles that strength and activity in the
natural body which is attained by proper exercise,
where the elastic and well defined muscles prove
that they have been wrought to the true tone of
vigour. This is the prime characteristic of the
French madrigal and of the Greek epigram-and
it is this that so highly distinguishes the lighter
poems of Gray, Goldsmith, Collins, and Moore,
which are so remarkable for their grace and sym-
metry. It is this vigorous principle which is also
the peculiar characteristic of the writings of a late
Noble Bard. It is to be hoped, however, that in
striving to imitate the beauties of his style, future
writers may not be infected with that spirit of doubt
and despondency and libertinism which so fre-
quently disfigure his Lordship's productions. It
is worthy of remark, that although the lives of the
Greek lyric and amatory poets of whose productions
Lord Byron was passionately fond, were devoted to
pleasure, in general their writings are of a melan-
choly cast-filled with complaints of the ills of age,
poverty, and distress, and uncomfortable reflections
on the shortness and misery of life; and it is urged
as an excuse for the gloominess of some of his
Lordship's poems, and the profligacy of others-
that they were written under the impression made
upon his mind by the perusal of these authors.-
Indeed it is certain that the writings of many indi-


116
A WREATH
·
6
viduals have been deeply tinged with the spirit of
the authors to whose works they were most partial.
This circumstance should operate strongly, there-
fore, on the minds of young aspirants to poetic
fame, in inducing them to form a just estimate of
the authors on whom they would feed their imagi-
nation. Milton enriched his fancy from the pages
of Holy Writ; and it is said of Gray, that he never
sat down to write without having previously de-
voted a short portion of time to the perusal of
Spenser's Fairie Queen.' Certain it is, that all our
truly sublime poets incline to hope, and to cheer-
ful contemplations of futurity; and there is little
doubt that when time has given the writings of the
Noble Bard a fair and impartial trial, the general
voice will prefer the splendors of Milton to the
dark lantern and stiletto of Lord Byron. And here,
by the way, as we have alluded to the writings
of Lord Byron, it may not be deemed an uninter-
esting conclusion to these cursory observations on
points not sufficiently attended to by the generality
of writers, to advert for a moment to a few of the
various imitations of other authors which are to be
met with in his Lordship's writings. It has been
asserted by some that many of his Lordship's poems
are mere English translations of oriental originals,
or at best a versification of stories common in the
East. Supposing this to be the case, we would not


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
117
feel disposed to think the less of Lord Byron's
poetical talent. We would just think as highly
of Macpherson, were he the mere translator
of Ossian, as though the beautiful poems bear-
ing that title had been written by himself. There
is a wide difference between being an imitator
and a copyist. Some of the best writers have
been successful imitators of the style of others:
thus, as it is well known, Virgil, in imitating his
master, Thocritus, surpassed him in an eminent
degree. But Lord Byron, whether from careless-
ness or inadvertency, or some other cause, has
certainly been guilty of several manifest plagia-
risms, not only of the ideas, but of the very
words of several living authors. In proof we shall
only adduce the examples furnished in two of his
his Lordship's most highly-finished shorter poems,
'the Bride of Abydos' and the Corsair.'
6
C
In the Bride of Abydos,' the very first line is
evidently a literal translation from M. de Staël's
• De l'Allemagne,' where she mentions a German
romance, Wilhelm Meister,' by Goethe, in which
she says there are some charming verses, 'que tout
le monde sait par cœur en Allemagne,' commenc-
ing with
"Connois-tu le terre où les citronniers fleurissent."
Every reader will immediately recognise in this the
original of
"Knowest thou the land where the cypress and myrtle."


118
A WREATH
How much further his Lordship's plagiarisms may
extend in this case is not ascertained, as M. de Staël
has not translated the entire of Goethe's poem.
The description of Zuleika, beginning
"Who hath not proved how feebly words essay
To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray," &c.
will also at once bring to the mind of the English
reader the opening of the second canto of the
Pleasures of Hope,'
"Who hath not paused while beauty's pensive eye," &c.
In the same part of this beautiful poem, the line
"The power of grace-the magic of a name,"
will remind him of the description of Conrad, in
the Corsair,' line 184,
"The power of thought-the magic of the mind."
For the expression in the Bride of Abydos,'
line 179,
"The music breathing from her face,"
his Lordship has expressed his obligation to M.
de Staël; and in the description of Leander cross-
ing the Hellespont in the fourth line of the second
canto of the same excellent poem,
"The beautiful, the brave,"
is only altered from Lady Randolph's lamentation
over the dead body of her son, in 'Douglas,' by
substituting the article for the pronoun,
"My beautiful, my brave."


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
119
In the Corsair,' line 359,
"Then give me all I ever asked, a tear,"
bears a striking resemblance to the expression in
Gray's Elegy,
"He gave to misery all he had, a tear."
·
In the last canto of the Corsair,' Conrad's feel-
ings when he thinks of Gulnere, strongly remind
the reader of Marmion's remorse, when the remem-
brance of Constance crosses his mind,
"And he was free-and she for him had given
Her all on earth, and more than all in heaven."
Corsair, line 696.
"And I the cause for whom were given
Her all on earth, and more than all in heaven."
Marmion.
6
Many of the most beautiful similes in the Cor-
sair, the Bride of Abydos, and the Giaour, are
taken from the History of the Caliph Vatheck,' and
the notes to that extraordinary tale. The idea of
the three-winged butterfly of Kashmere; and the
allusions to the eye of the Gazelle and the blos-
soms of the pomegranate are also mentioned by Sir
William Jones to be almost universal in all the
poetry of the East. The idea in Childe Harold,'
"Deep in yon cave Honorius long did dwell,
In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell."
also owes its origin to the eastern world. The Ca-
liph Omer Ben Abdalaziz declared that "to merit
heaven it was necessary to make earth a hell.”


120
A WREATH
We remember the advice of the
"de mor-
sage,
tuis nil nisi bonum;" but we also recollect that
although Lord Byron is dead, he still lives in his
works, and although we feel every disposition to
preserve the spirit of the motto in our observations,
we have considered it only just thus to notice the
carelessness (we will not use a harsher term)
evinced by a genius whose greatness should have
distained any borrowed assistance: and would to
heaven that such trivial faults as those we have
noticed, and which, with the microscopic eye of a
critic, can be observed throughout every produc-
tion of his Lordship, were all that we had to charge
upon the memory of the Noble Bard. But we much
fear, that when the grave shall have closed upon
the writer of this article, and upon all who are
now able to peruse or to admire the productions of
Lord Byron's pen, the poison which they contain
will not have ceased to produce the most pernicious
effects;-would to heaven that before his Lordship
had given them to the world, he had paused under
the solemn conviction of his responsibility, and
had remembered that such writings as those he has
left behind him may yet influence the peace and
happiness of thousands now unborn. We make
the observation, not so much from a wish to throw
any unpleasant reflections over his Lordship's
memory, as to warn others, who may take the
C


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
121
writings of his Lordship as a model; and we are
bold to say that it was a weak and foolish pride
which induced the Noble Bard to become the cham-
pion of opinions completely at variance with the
established sentiments of others, merely because
they were singular. Indeed we conceive that no
language can be too strong to express the indigna-.
tion which every good man must feel against any
individual, who, from the mere love of singularity,
can promulgate sentiments calculated either to se-
ver those social and endearing engagements which
are the alone so urce of happiness that many enjoy
-or to bereave man of that hope of an hereafter,
the contemplation of which is the only pleasure
left to thousands who have proved fortune fickle
and friends insincere.
The following quotation from an early edition of
one of his Lordship's works,* will at once prove the
correctness of our observations, and serve as an
apology for an humble individual venturing to
throw a shade over the remains of this Goliah of
literary fame :-
―
•
"The unquestionable possession of considerable
genius by several of the writers here censured,"
says his Lordship, "renders their mental prosti-
tution more to be regretted. Imbecility may be
pitied-or at most laughed at and forgotten; per-
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.
L


122
A WREATH
verted powers demand the most decided reprehen-
sion. No one can wish more than the author that
some known and able writer had undertaken this
exposure; but in the absence of the regular physi-
cian a country practitioner may, in cases of abso-
lute necessity, be allowed to prescribe his nostrum
-to prevent the extension of so deplorable a ma-
lady"!!
-
THE FEELING HEART.
How happy they whose envied lot
Hath placed them far from sorrow's voice,
In some sequestered rural spot,
With those attached by taste and choice;
Yet happier he whose fate has been
To roam through many an adverse scene,
Long for each absent joy to mourn,
But bless'd at length with sweet return;
To feel unmix'd the magic spell,
Which bids his bosom wildly swell,
As each long-cherish'd spot is traced,
Which first in infant sport he paced,
And ecstacy supreme!-to meet
The heart with pleasure fondly glowing,
The bosom heaving sighs so sweet,
The eye with tears of joy o'erflowing-


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
123
To know this radiant cloudless beam
Of perfect bliss is felt for him!—
This is the moment that o'erpays
The feeling heart for countless days
Of sorrow past, of danger o'er,
Remembered now-but felt no more.
On Novel Writing.
Ir is much to be wished that some adept in light
reading would make out for young people such a
catalogue of entertaining books as would have the
effect of amusing, without either stimulating or
relaxing the mind beyond its wholesome tone; for
it cannot be questioned that much of the folly and
fastidiousness of the present day is imbibed from
the sentimental whining or ardent impulses of the
Lady Louisas and Lord Henry Adolphuses of this
scribbling age and as so much of happiness de-
pends upon correct and rational views of human
life, every thing should be put away from the pe-
rusal of the young which would mislead them in


124
1
A WREATH
essential points, or prematurely awaken feelings
which should be suffered as long as possible to lie
dormant in the breast, that reason and judgment
may have time to mature their strength, and prove
sufficiently vigorous to cope with their antagonists,
the imagination and the passions.
With regard to novels, it may be remarked, that
very few novel writers draw from life, from high
life especially-though the characters are generally
represented as of exalted rank, by way of heighten-
ing the interest, and striking awe into the mob of
readers. Indeed, wherever real descriptions of
fashionable persons have been given, they are such
as do not considerably increase a rational desire to
be more intimately acquainted with them. The
distress of at least one of the parties is always ex-
aggerated, and the difficulties multiplied beyond
the usual quantity which falls to the lot of human
creatures; and what renders such descriptions still
more dangerous, they are so drawn as to enfeeble
the minds of readers, and to deceive them as to the
real exigencies of sorrow and disease.
Another bad effect of novel reading is that it pro-
duces an evident neglect of the homely and the old ;
young and beautiful heroes and heroines are alone
deemed worthy of attention or regard by those
whose time is much occupied in the study of
novels. Plain women, and people of both sexes


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
125
advanced in years, are left very quietly to shift for
themselves, altho' near relatives-while the most
common-place acquaintances are allowed to mono-
polize the whole stock of admiration and attention.
"
Novels generally end in a wedding. The parties
are conducted through hair-breadth difficulties to
this welcome haven; and rétire very lovingly to the
possession of every comfort peculiar to the state of
matrimony. But this is a very false view of the
course of events, and may lead the young and in-
experienced to expect more from marriage than it
is capable of affording. Connubial happiness, like
every thing terrestrial, is eminently liable to
change; and to detail these vicissitudes, and teach
their readers how to support them might prove a
task full as useful and worthy of an author's pains;
as representing, in colours however glowing, the
hopes and fears, the quarrels and reconciliations,
the repinings against parental authority, and plans
of suicide meditated by two despairing lovers, who
are dying to rush into one another's arms, fre-
quently in despite of prudence, honour, and com-
mon sense. Let novelists, therefore, enlarge the
field of their descriptions; let them pourtray the
estimable self-denial of individuals, who love one
another so much better than themselves, as to la-
bour for independence before they broaden their
mark to calamity; and earn something to subsist
L 2


126
A WREATH
on prior to engaging in a connexion which must in-
crease their expenses, and create new calls on their
support. This is indeed effected in romances very
summarily, by some convenient uncle, who comes
from the East Indies with several lacs of rupees,
which he showers down upon the disconsolate pair,
three or four pages before the termination of the
novel, raising them at least to a situation of elegant
competency; though it often happens that the heroic
nephew is put into Parliament; nay, perhaps ob-
tains a coronetcy, if he be not already the heir of
an Earl in disguise, who concealed his rank from
his son, in order chiefly to forward the scheme of
the author. It is not to be wondered at, therefore,
that with such erroneous views of domestic life,
indeed of life in general, fixed upon their imagina-
tion, that more than one half of those who enter
into the married state should be dissatisfied and
unhappy-nor can it be expected that any great
change for the better will take place until the
minds of youth be supplied with more wholesome
nourishment than the trash with which young peo-
ple now so generally surfeit their imaginations.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
127
TO THE READER.
As from some gay and glowing scene,
With pang of anguish twofold keen,
The outcast turns and sighs,
And feels his gloomy lot more drear,
For having viewed the vision fair
That mocks his hopeless eyes-
So comfortless, and so forlorn,
The reader from the page must turn,
Where fiction pens her dreams;
Where poor humanity is given
Perfections which belong to heaven,
And bliss that earth disclaims.
Better the page of real life,
Error, adversity, or strife,
Such as the heart may own;
And still its changeless language hear,
And hope, lament, and doubt and fear,
And truth forbear to frown.
Thou perfect maid that fiction draws,
Did never secret self-applause,
Or joy elate thy breast,
When slander's record was unroll'd,
And error's deep disgrace was told,
Or beauty's fate o'ercast?


128
A WREATH
Thy heart did never envy pain,
Thy lip no idle flattery feign;
Was vanity so dead,
As ne'er the triumphs of the ball,“
With exultation to recal,
O'er some bright rival maid ?
Then, if thou art so good-so blest,
Earth is no more thy place of rest;
The changeful climate leave
To us who may rejoice an hour-
To-morrow feel misfortune's power,
Fear-err-decay and grieve.
O simple reader, cease to sigh,
And fling the o'er-charged fable by,
Ere rising murmurs crowd;
Experience, with his tresses grey,
angry from the page away,”
Unwitness'd-disallow'd.
Turns
And let the wanderer too believe
Those dazzling scenes he saw deceive;
There borrowed bliss alone
To many a languid heart is lent,
That has no gladness or content,
Or refuge of its own.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
129
Synonyme.
As it is essential to the thorough knowledge of
any language, to be able to distinguish accurately
between words generally considered synonymous ;
and as upon this, strength, perspicuity, and ele-
gance of style, materially depend, it would be a
great acquisition, if some individual, possessing
the various mental qualifications requisite for such
a task, would lay his mind to the subject, and give
to the English reader a work similar to the Abbé
Girard's celebrated "Synonymes Français."-The
following may perhaps serve as an example:-
TO IMITATE-TO COPY.
The first is generally a mark of quickness of
mind-the second of barrenness. Imitation is
employed upon useful subjects-copying on com-
paratively trifling ones. We may imitate a man's
virtues, or his style, or his politeness-but we
copy his foibles or his eccentricities, or the peculia-
rities of his dress. Imitation often terminates in
improvement-copying in still inferior mediocrity;
and places the individual in the abject class of
mimics, nine in ten of whom go out of themselves
without going into the real character of other peo-
ple. On the stage, no mimic except Garrick ever


130
A WREATH
was a good actor. It is said that he sought in
Bedlam for many of his traits in Lear, while Foote
abused the hospitality of a Welch gentleman's fa-
mily, to glean the absurdities of Cad-walader-a
tolerably fair indication of the minds of the two
men-the latter of whom never could free himself
from the trammels of buffoonery, though he had
received a liberal education, while Garrick reached
the summit of his profession. The Chinese are
servile copyists; and are behind" every other na-
tion in proficiency in the arts and sciences. The
savages of Botany Bay, are most expert mimics,
yet the greatest savages on the face of the earth;
without religion, or even the vestige of a social în-
stitution.
RESEMBLANCE-CONFORMITY.
These are terms which designate the existence of
the same qualities in different subjects; but the
first refers chiefly to corporeal coincidences, the
latter to intellectual-there is a resemblance be-
tween features, and a conformity between minds.
JOY GAIETY.
These terms signify an agreeable state of mind,
arising from the possession of good, or the enjoy-
ment of pleasure. The first springs from the heart,
and is enrolled among the passions, and like them
can rise to an excess;—whilst the latter, gaiety,
belongs rather to the temperament of the body, and


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
131
is often the consequence of a healthy well-balanced
constitution, in which the blood circulates cheerily,
and the animal spirits feel no obstruction from the
invasion of pain, or the minings of chronic dis-
ease. Joy must be acted upon and excited; gaiety,
on the contrary, is spontaneous, and diffuses a
sunshine over society-which is much more in-
debted to the cheerful than to the joyous. Vanity
is generally the companion of gaiety. Joy is op-
posed to sorrow-gaiety to melancholy.
RECREATION-AMUSEMENT-DIVERSION.
Recreation implies an interval of cessation from
the anxieties of business, to which we must again
return. Amusement is the pursuit and enjoyment
of light pleasure.-Diversion is accompanied by
livelier feelings of delight, and a keener relish of
entertainment.
FRAIL-FRAGILE.
Both these terms denote weakness-the first in
subjects which can be bent, the second in those
that can be broken. We speak of the frailty of the
support of the reed, and compare it, not unaptly,
to the general run of friendship-and of the fra-
gility of glass and of promises.
SELF-SUFFICIENT-IMPORTANT-ARROGANT.
The self-sufficient man goes a step beyond the
self-possessed, and is consequently more apt to fall


132
A WREATH
into error; his judgment may be strong, but is
seldom well regulated, and is generally dashed
with vanity. The important man superadds some-
what of pride to an overweening estimate of his own
powers, and is something like gold lace upon an
old-fashioned scarlet waistcoat. The arrogant man
has almost always some spice of badness of heart
in his disposition, which betrays itself in the des-
potism of his opinions. We avoid the self-suffi-
cient-laugh at the self-important-and detest the
arrogant. The first are found in considerable
abundance in the professions called liberal-the
second in public offices-and the third amongst
the race of minute philosophers, particularly of the
Scotch school, who moot inconceivable points-of
which I shall give a specimen, more for the sake
of recording Doctor Johnson's opinion, than of
stating the subject matter of discussion-which
was no less an important inquiry, than whether so
many human creatures would now be on the face
of the earth, if existence, instead of being imposed
upon them, had been at their option: on which
Johnson, with his usual acuteness, observed, that
much of this would depend upon the place of birth
-and that he believed if that spot were Scotland,
the option would be easily decided, and the ranks
of the human race thinned beyond all possible con-
ception.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
133
MUSIC-IRISH MELODIES.
MUSIC is a very delightful thing-but at large
parties it is seldom enjoyed. It is, however, the
order of the day; though it cannot be doubted that
of the number of persons who collect together to
listen to it, there is not one in twenty calculated to
judge even of vocal, much less of instrumental
music. Indeed it would often appear as if les-
son of a first-rate composer, played with exquisite
taste and execution, were regarded as the signal for
a general dechainement of tongues; even those who
were silent before, commence talking then, as tho'
impelled to it by the same sort of secret sympathy
which swells the notes of the Canary-bird in his
cage, to overpower conversation. Were a foreigner
to judge by the conduct he may frequently see
practised during an evening's entertainment, he
would be led to form no very exalted idea of the
musical taste of this country or England; nor
could he, when he would witness the sublimest
compositions of Handel, Haydn, and Mozart, in-
terrupted and drowned by the buzzing of a thou-
sand tongues, and listened to or received with all
the ungrateful symptoms of stretching, yawning,
&c. By the way, I must confess that I myself do
M


134
A WREATH
not experience much pleasure in listening to some
of those Italian singers of Italian airs, the excel-
lence of whose performance is to warble out a note
to the length of a league-although they are so
highly applauded by many pretenders to musical
science, and in deference to public opinion are so
much extolled by that prodigious multitude of all
ranks, who resign their sensations to the keeping of
others, and dare neither see nor hear for them-
selves. For my part, I must candidly own it af-
fords me much greater satisfaction to hear one of
our national melodies sung with feeling and pathos,
than to listen to such experiments upon the human
voice. They may certainly excite wonder; but can
never affect the feelings.
Indeed I have always considered our national
melodies as very charming things. Whether me-
lancholy or gay-martial or pastoral, they possess
the raciness of originality, and are most feelingly
expressive of all the passions, from the sweetest to
the most terrible-they speak the genuine language
of emotion, and bring us back to the times when
they were breathed-the old times, which the heart,
disgusted with what it sees of hypocrisy, selfish-
ness, and vanity, loves to recur to, with probably
an exaggerated opinion of the simplicity and truth
which belonged to them; and which, perhaps,
although an error of the mind, is one of the most


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
135
grateful in which it can indulge. Although I think
melodies and the simpler the better-are very
pleasing things, they have perhaps little to boast
of as to mechanical harmony; but they more than
compensate for this, at least to untutored ears, by
being the appropriate organ of the affections. They
are, besides, very easy to execute, provided there
be sensibility in the singer; they require neither
great compass, strength, or inflection of voice-all
that is essential is expression. Now, as young
ladies have hearts, they have only to keep them in
unison with those sentiments which it is to be
hoped are most congenial to nature, to be enabled
to convey
"that sober certainty of waking bliss,"
which the virtuous and accomplished lady, de-
scribed by Milton, extorted even from Comus, à
very sensual fellow, and who was then, perhaps
for the first time in his life, recalled from his in-
dulgences to any thing like a pure and virtuous
emotion. It may hence be fairly inferred, that if
to reform rakes be the greatest triumph of female
dominion, such means as melody affords may be
employed with some probability of success. At
least I can say from experience, that "Hope told
a Flattering Tale," and other long, elaborate,
and to Irish throats, nearly impracticable airs,
have never yet produced any effect, but to make
these incorrigible fellows laugh in their sleeves all


136
A WREATH
the time they were paying the most extravagant
compliments, both to the fair warblers and their
delighted mammas, who were simpering and re-
joicing at the value received for the many guineas
given to professors, who no doubt smile internally
now and then themselves, at the ideas so prevalent
at present on the subject of teaching misses to sing,
whether their talents lie in that way, or whether
they do not.
The fact is, that those who sing most to the feel-
ings have always had the least teaching. No
teacher can impart expression;-he may tell where
the emphasis is to be laid, and where the turn is
to be introduced; but without natural tenderness
and spirit, the directions become an absolute dead
letter. Many instructors have candour enough to
state this to parents; but it is almost unnecessary
to add that they are generally discredited-most
fathers and mothers arrogating to their children
the possession of musical powers, as well as what
they term genius,
"As if these grew in common hedges.'
در
while the truth is, that a sprig of the genuine
species of either is of all things the hardest to meet
with; and where it is found, it will always thrive.
best in proportion as it is least tampered with.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
137
1
Z
2
CHARACTER OF AN IRISH MELODY.
Loud is the note of Erin's song,
In mournful modulation long ;-
Like grief half quell'd, half pass'd away,
Or welcome, if it will, to stay.
As if, on lonely cliff reclin'd,
Her pale cheek offered to the wind,
The pensive genius of the land
Awaked her harp with aimless hand;
And while to her reverted eyes
Past times and images arise-
The plains of peace-the fields of fight,
The widow's woe-the warrior's might,
The achievements of the buried brave,
The form wild gazing on his grave,
In tones despairing, tender, bold,
The unbidden strings the vision told—
Now like a thought escaped from pain,
In doubtful joy steals forth the strain;
Or as by desolated pile,
Thro' mouldering arch and echoing aisle,
It poured wild revel numbers there,
In praise of ruin and despair;
Again, like that dark spirit's cry,
That bodes of death and anguish nigh,
It seems with howling night-blasts join'd,
That dies away, in sighs resign'd-


138
A WREATH
If all thy darkening prospects fade-
If faithless friendship have betrayed-
Go and beguile the wretched day
Where yon pale matron pours the lay ;—
It may not make thy sorrows less,
It may not change thy heart's distress;
But yet with wild untutor'd speech,
Thy hidden grief's recess 't will reach;
"Twill seem to say,
Thy grief is mine-
"I mourn a misery like thine!
"Than beauty's grace-than happier hour-
“Than friendship's faith-than wealth or power,
66
Longer than these it may delay;
"But fled a sweeter trace shall stay."
66
A MEDICAL PRESCRIPTION.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF LA MARTINIERE.
Would you wish to get well without failing
Of I know not what ill, which, I know not for why,
For this fortnight has made you look feeble and ailing!
I prescribe you to buy,
How much I can't say, of a root I know not,
To mix of I know not what simples a potion,
Pound I know not what herbs, and of them make a lotion;
Which applied piping hot,
Will for aught that I know
Make you eat, drink, and sleep, as a fortnight ago
But this I can venture for certain to say,
Half the doctors in London prescribe the same way.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
139
C
REQUISITES FOR A GOVERNESS.
It would be a curious and useful point to ascer-
tain-for the benefit of many meritorious women,
who seek for the situation of governess-what is
really expected from them for forty, and sometimes
thirty pounds per annum, with diet not unfre-
quently embittered by mortification, and lodging
in the attic story. Independent of all the moral
virtues, (religion is seldom insisted on,) they must
be able to teach French grammatically; history,
geography, and the use of the globes; writing
and arithmetic ;-they must also be proficients
in music and needle-work. These are some few
of the requisites, and many more are silently un-
derstood to be given into the bargain: such as
- an extraordinary power of enduring the noise of
spoiled children, and the caprice and ill-humour
of spoiled parents-insurmountable good humour,
always ready to laugh with and be laughed at―
a digestion equal to the drumsticks of turkeys and
outside slices of sirloins of roast beef, &c. &c.
The Americans, who are but a half civilized
people, are much more candid upon such occa-
sions than the English or Irish are; they openly
confess what they expect for their money, and
leave no sting of disappointment in their bar-
gain for education, as would appear by the follow-


140
A WREATH
ing advertisement which appeared some time since
in one of the transatlantic newspapers:-" Wanted,
a genteel, well-informed woman, whose patience
is inexhaustible—whose vigilance is unwinking-
whose tongue is tireless-whose expedients to please
are boundless-whose foresight is unequalled-
whose industry is matchless-and whose neatness
is unparalleled!!" And such, we verily believe,
are the qualifications frequently expected from in-
dividuals in those countries, although the require-
ments may not be expressed in so many words.
FRENCH EPIGRAM.
THE provincial courts of justice in France, it
would appear by the following epigram, are like
some of our own Quarter Sessions, very noisy-
although certainly none of our Judges have ever
yet been betrayed into such a candid confession as
the following:
Crier, call solemn silence in the court!
These Goths of justice think to make a sport ;
But she shall not be thus derided :'.
Silence, I say-such talking is absurd;
I do declare I have not heard one word
The last ten causes I decided,
So loud and various are the brawls and fury
Of lawyers, agents, witnesses, and jury!


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
141
INFIDELITY.
THE last century is remarkable for having fur-
nished an unprecedented number of attacks on re-
vealed religion, through the medium of science ;-
nor is it less remarkable for having derived much
support to divine revelation, and much valuable
illustration of the sacred writings, from the enqui-
ries of the philosopher, and the observations of the
traveller. In the Indian desert the church of God
meets the eye, and the vestiges of the Saviour ap-
pear, after the lapse of centuries, fresh and con-
vincing-in Nazareth, where he was cradled in a
manger-and in Jerusalem, where he expired on
the cross. Every sober and well-directed enquiry
into the natural history of man, and the globe we
inhabit, has been found to authenticate the Mosaic
account of the creation, the fall, the deluge, the
dispersion, and other important events recorded in
sacred history. Never was there a period of the
same extent in which so much light and evidence
in favour of revelation were drawn from the enqui-
ries of philosophy; nor was it ever rendered so ap-
parent that the information and the doctrines con-
tained in the sacred volume, perfectly harmonize
with the most authentic discoveries, and the sound-
est principles of science:


142
A WREATH
Were this wide waste alone the lot of man,
Were his hopes bounded by life's narrow span,
Well might he envy the unthinking brute,
And calmly cease from every fair pursuit
To make the mind more noble-all were vain,
The finest feelings yield the keenest pain;
The warmest heart bleeds most—the steadiest friend
Feels the severest sorrow in the end:
To meet no more the tenderest ties must part,
Death unrelenting severs heart from heart.
THE FOLLOWING LINES WERE PRESENTED TO HIS
MAJESTY ON HIS VISIT TO THIS COUNTRY.
Hail, Monarch of Britain! the Emerald Isle
Invites thy approach to her shores with a smile
As pure, bright, and warm as the sunbeam that gilds
The crags of her cliffs and the flow'rs of her fields.
Hail, Prince of these Islands! reflected in thee,
The virtues, the worth of thy father we see;
The pleasure which springs from thy visit shall give
A tone to our hearts that shall last while we live.
Then welcome to Erin-her sons you will find,
Tho' frank in their manner, are courteous and kind;
Like the star of the west, lo! the light of their smile
Invites thee to visit the Emerald Isle.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
143
THE NERVOUS AND SENTIMENTAL.
WHEN the mind becomes restless, and threatens
to be too much for the body, the latter has a way
of mustering up its strength by starts or snatches,
or of wrestling with its inhabitant by means of some
violent action. Hence the various tricks that are
called nervous, such as convulsive movements of
the face and hands, extraordinary gestures, biting
the nails to the quick, playing the knife-grinder
with your foot and leg, beating a regular tattoo with
your fingers on the table, thumping the knee, and
whistling-with a number of other extravagant va-
garies, which those individuals commonly called
nervous, are in the daily habit of performing. In
many instances, however, such capers are merely
the effect of bad habit or irregular living. Many
a fine lady or sentimental miss would be shocked
to find the quantity of vulgar materials which go
to the composition of what she so much values.
herself upon, under the name of sensibility: To
the indolence of a lazy day, or a ham supper,
may often be traced the wakeful melancholy of
a whole night; a long expostulation with for-
tune, to being heaped with indulgences; or a pre-
possessing flood of tears at a tragedy, to the pre-
vious mastication of a score of living oysters. In-


144
A WREATH
deed we are afraid that among the few nervous or
sentimental persons who have been wise, we shall
not be able to find any of the very wisest. The
cheerfulness of Socrates is proverbial; Newton was
calmness itself; Locke delighted in quizzing affected
gravity; and we would lay any wager that Alfred
the Great was a pleasant fellow; and even Galileo,
in spite of his imprisonment by the Inquisition, for
differing with the generally received notions relative
to astronomy, was particulary facetious, and re-
markable for his fondness of Ariosto. By far the
greater number of nervous and sentimental great
names are to be found among bigots, bad livers, and
dealers in blood shed-such as Nero and Caligula,
Philip the Second, or Frederick of Prussia, whose
spirits were in general dreadfully tormented thro'-
the night, yet could not leave off his hot suppers,
or conform to a regular mode of living.
ON DREAMS.
Of dreams the theories have been as various as
they are inconclusive: the credulous, the sanguine,
and the melancholy, have each their different sys-
tems. Many suppose that the future is shadowed
out through the agency of dreams, and not a few
apparently well attested instances are adduced to


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
145
prove such an interposition. Those who are inclined
to repose confidence in dreams should consider,
however, that while the vision lasts the memory
lies completely torpid, and the understanding is
employed only about such objects as are then pre-
sented to the imagination, without any comparison
of the present with the past. When we dream, we
frequently hold converse with a friend who is either
dead or absent, without remembering that the ocean
or the grave are between us. Nor are we shocked at
the violations of the laws of nature which occur, nor
experience surprise at the scene being so suddenly
shifted before us. The moral sense appears to be
totally perverted, since we not only reason, but act
upon principles highly absurd and extravagant.
It may also be observed, that dreams, at least
such as leave any impression on the memory, belong
rather to a diseased, than to a healthy state of mind
and body, and that they are generally the accom-
paniment of grief or remorse ;-in the first case
probably to soothe affliction by a change of images,
and in the other to compel guilt into confession, by
the constant recurrence of the same object. Dreams
may also sometimes operate to admonish us of inci-
pient derangement of the faculties, particularly
when they are vivid and distressing; for what is
madness but a dream, full of disjointed fancies, and
unconsequential reasoning.
N
P


146
A WREATH
U
THE STRANGER'S PILLOW.
Smooth be the stranger's pillow spread,
And soft the down beneath his head,
And strew the scarlet blossom there,
That steals from memory half her care;
Let no intruding step or sound
Disturb the midnight stillness round,
Nor banish from his slumbering eyes
Fancy's fair visions as they rise.
Haply by her sweet error swayed,
His steps from home have never strayed;
Or once should troubled thoughts intrude,
By slumber only half subdued,
Of forms and scenes left far behind,
And farewell parting accents kind;
Perchance the tear thro' slumber's spell
Then on the stranger's pillow fell.
"Twas but a momentary pain,-
"Tis past and all is well again;
Again the phantom scenes appear
More sunny bright-more doubly dear;
With shadowy forms, thro' endless ways,
He converse holds, and careless strays,
Thro' vistas and o'er arching bowers,→
Marks his paternal ancient towers.—


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
147
An hour, and all is faded-gone!
And memory's mournful tear alone,
While she the vision sweet recals,
Upon the stranger's pillow falls-
Remoter regions must divide,
And separating waters wide,
Ere to the wandering stranger's eyes
Shall home's regretted mansions rise!
Smooth be the stranger's pillow spread,
Low be the voice and soft the tread;
Nor violate with gentlest sound
The midnight stillness reigning round;
Thou hast no treasure to atone
For those delusive moments gone.
ANECDOTE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
AN eminent artist who visited Paris during the
period in which Napoleon Bonaparte filled the of-
fice of First Consul, among other places went to
the room where the Senate assembled. There was
a chair of state at one end of it; and the person
who shewed the room pointed to one of the arms of
it, which was new. "Do you see, Monsieur,"


148
A WREATH
said he, "that new arm ?"—" Yes; but what is
there remarkable in a new arm? I suppose it was
broken by accident." "No, Monsieur; the re-
markable thing about that arm is, that it is re-
newed once in so many weeks."-
— For what, pray,
Sir ?"—" Why, Monsieur, when the First Consul
sits in that chair, he has a trick, while the senators
are speaking or deliberating, of taking a penknife
from off the table, and hacking the right arm of the
chair with it until the surface is reduced to splin-
ters. Every now and then we renew it without
saying any thing; and when the First Consul has
repeated his operation sufficiently, we make him
another!"
AUTUMN.
Autumn, "the eventide of the year," brings with
it the most salutary reflections—the winds arise, the
leaves fall, and all nature sinks into decay. It is not
the solitary tree-but the whole forest which must
yield to the inevitable law prescribed by nature;
and thus it is with the human race. Every being we
have ever known; the friend we loved, and the


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
149
1
enemy who persecuted and maligned us, must alike
lose the foliage of their strength, and pass into the
grave. Before such a reflection, hatred, revenge,
and malice, and all the tribe of scorpions which so
frequently sting the human bosom, must cease to
exist. The very atmosphere of such an idea is fatal
to their being; and in their place, charity springs
up to prompt forgiveness of injuries and an oblitera-
tion of every unkindness.
The leaf of autumn gradually declines-nor does
the winter's wind at once sweep it into oblivion—
beautiful even in decay, it still clings to the branches,
and seems to enjoy the last gleams of the sun, and
the parting visit of the western breeze—at length it
is disengaged, and even then it lingers, buoyant on
its native element, and gracefully descends at last to
its destined repose-a striking emblem of the de-
cay of the good man, who quietly sinks into the
grave, with a well-founded hope of a glorious resur-
rection. The winter is not to continue for ever-tho'
the leaf of autumn perishes, the grave is the portal
to a region where the happy spirit shall for ever
flourish in renovated youth and perennial freshness.


A WREATH
150
TO THE NEW YEAR.
The mists of morning disappear,
Loud ring the merry bells and clear,
The new-born year to hail;
And with its sweet and solemn tone
Peals to the peaceful one that's gone,
A long, a last farewell.
With lingering gaze we view the scene,
Till rock and mountain intervene,
Where some loved friend may stray;
And number all his virtues o'er,
And sigh to think that never more
May he retrace that way.
So
may we for a moment's space
The year's past lovely seasons trace,
And mourn departed hours
With trophies crowned, and laurel leaves,
And ruddy fruits, and golden sheaves,
And evanescent flowers.
Thou infant year, ere thou art past,
May all those clouds which overcast
Our lives, dissolve in peace;
And ere the merry bell to you,
Peals forth a long, a last adieu,
May all our joys increase.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
151

The Hermit of the Lakes.
It is to be presumed that few persons have visit-
ed and viewed the delightful scenery of Killarney,
-have climbed its mountains, or skirted its lakes,
without having heard something of the extraordina-
ry ascetic, who some years since took up his abode
in the deserted and mouldering ruins of the abbey
of Mucruss, and who, for reasons known but to
himself, became the companion of the lonely dead,
relinquishing for ever the society of the living, save
when compelled by the cravings of pinching hunger
to ask an alms from some neighbouring peasant.
Having in early life visited those delightful scenes,
whose varied beauties mock alike the boldest efforts
of the pencil and the pen, while ranging along its


152
A WREATH
lakes, or climbing the mountain's ridge, I was ac-
companied by a youth, whom, although in the cos-
tume of the country, sans hat or shoes, I found to
be extremely intelligent, and well informed in le-
gendary lore, and who, as we sauntered along, by
way of amusing me, recounted many a wonderful
story of the doings of the good people, or fairies,
who, he averred, were at one period the only in-
habitants of which Glena and Mangerton* could
boast. Even now, he assured me, on many a clear
moonlight night, troops of them were frequently
seen cantering down from the mountains on horses
not bigger than hares, or sailing on the lakes in
vessels made of cockle-shells; while at other times
they would join together in the sportive dance on
the beautiful green sward with which Mucruss and
the surrounding islands were covered.
The evening was fine; the last sunbeam still lin-
gered on the Eagle's Nest; and in order to obtain a
more extensive view of the delightful scenery around
us, we had left the beaten path, and were endea-
vouring to gain the summit of Glena mountain, by
scrambling up its precipitous sides with the help
of the tough roots and impending boughs which
sprung from the crevices of the rocks; when on a
sudden I observed my guide to start, as if affrighted;
* Very high mountains in the neighbourhood of Killarney.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
153
and hastily crossing himself, and pointing to a lit-
tle shallop or boat, which had just issued from at
cove that lay beneath us, and contained a being of
most extraordinary appearance, he exclaimed, "the
blessed Vargin preserve us from harm, but I fear
me there is some bad luck before us; for there's
the Hermit of the Lakes, and whoever first sees
him after his being at yonder mountain, which, yer
honour, they calls the Devil's Punch Bowl,* is sure
to meet with some accident. He has been about
no good, I'll warrant him; he goes yonder to con-
verse with a little black man, who they say is the
ould boy, though I would not like to wrong him,
any how." Scarcely had he uttered these words,
when the root by which he was hanging gave way,
and not being able to recover his hold, he was pre-
cipitated a considerable way down the mountain-
side, his progress being at length arrested by the
branches of an aged oak, which hung midway in
the descent to the bottom. However, not having
received any serious injury, he soon regained his
former position, exclaiming as he approached me,
"And sure, isn't it I that ought to be thankful to
the blessed Virgin, that didn't let him do his worst
on me; for, sure as she's in heaven, but for her
merciful interposition, the best bone in my body
The name of a mountain in the neighbourhood of Killarney,
in which there is an extinct volcano.
0 2


154
A WREATH
would have been broken. I knew well I should
meet with some accident-St. Mary grant the worst
may be over."
Having by this time gained a position where I
could with safety turn round and view the indivi-
dual who had been the cause of such alarm and
danger to my guide and companion; I could per-
ceive that there was apparently some ground for the
terror expressed. A cap of a conical form covered
his head, while a long, black, bushy beard gave to
a sharp, haggard, dark countenance an expression
of savage gloominess, which even the distance
could not obliterate. He was wrapped in a long
loose garment, drawn tight at the middle by a belt,
from which were suspended several articles, that
my guide informed me were dead men's bones
with which he was used to work his incantations,
and practise his black art.
"Do you see that boat, Sir ?" said the boy, "that
boat was made without the help of human hands,
yer honour; it is formed of the coffins of those
whose souls are now doing penance; sorra a nail
would ye find in it from beginnin' to end, nor was
there ever a hammer raised over it-I seed it often
with my own eyes, yer honour, and I can go bail
for the truth of what I say; in fact, he is not saun-
cy, for he can both raise the dead, and make the
Ould Boy appear in the likeness of a man."


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
155
"And where did he come from, or where does
he now live?" I enquired." And sure, yer ho-
nour, nobody knows where he came from, or who
he is, and it's I that knows very little about him
that 's good, only that the neighbours says there is
no fear of his being hanged for being a Christhin;
and if there was no harm in saying it [here he ve-
ry devoutly crossed himself,] I believe myself that
he's no very distant relation to the Ould Boy him-
self-though, yer honour, I would not for the best
horse in yer stable, that he should hear me saying
so."
Having, on further enquiry, learned that the
much-dreaded individual had taken up his resi-
dence in the Abbey of Mucruss, which my guide
informed me was 66
an illegant ould ruin that every
body visited," and which had for many years been
a favourite burying place, in the true spirit of ju-
venile knight-errantry, I resolved on exploring it
the next morning, and if possible finding out some
further particulars relative to the more than mortal
who had taken up his abode within its walls. We
had by this time wandered a considerable distance,
and lost no time in regaining the pathway, in hopes
to arrive at the inn (if it might be so called) which
I had made my head-quarters, before the shades of
night had completely surrounded us. As the even-
ing advanced, fear appeared to lend additional
0 3


156
A WREATH
swiftness to the legs of my companion, with whom
I was scarcely able to keep pace, and who every
now and then looked behind him, as though he
feared some one was pursuing us. It was late
when we arrived, and the evening being somewhat
cold, we found that several travellers, who were
stopping at the same place, had assembled round
a blazing fire of turf and bog-wood, and were, with
some neighbouring cottiers beguiling an idle hour
in listening to various spirit-stirring tales of terror
with which the courteous landlord was endeavour-
ing to entertain them.
Having taken my seat on a three-legged stool, and
Paddy M'Kew, my guide, having also posted himself
in the hob or chimney-corner, appeared on thorns
until he got an opportunity to communicate the par-
ticulars of our adventure. It was quite à propos,
and drew forth many a story 'learned and long' of
the wonderful doings of the Hermit of the Lakes;
nor did the miraculous escape of Paddy pass un-
noticed. "And sure, avourneen, it was you that
was in good luck, that you belonged to the true
church," observed an old grey-headed man, "the
blessed Lady is always good to her own; had you
been a heretic, as sure as the hermit's a conjuror
there would not have been a whole bone in your
skin at this blessed moment."
"Arrah, hould yer long tongue, Denis O'Don-


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
157
nel, with your politics about religion and the true
church," said the landlord angrily; "if you don't
like to be civil to the gentlefolks who have the kind-
ness to stop at my house, and who have the good-
nathur to come and sit down beside the likes of you
and me, and to listen to our ould stories, why then
you may take yourself and your small-talk off to
your own cabin, Denis O'Donnel, and not be after
doing me an injury."
"And sure it's I that wouldn't be after offending
any gintleman, no matter what profession he might
be of; but if you think so much of a blaze of your
peat, good night, and bad luck to you, Paddy
O'Rourke; for its myself that thinks ye'd sell yer
sowl and yer religion any time for a good customer.
Its you and the likes of you that brings disgrace on
the holy Catholic Church, and may the curse of
the Church rest upon you and your's, Paddy
O'Rourke."
Denis O'Donnel having thus unceremoniously
taken his leave; and our worthy host having made
every apology to those who he conceived might
have been offended by the plain speaking of the
old man, the conversation relative to the hermit
was again resumed. "And sure it's I that could
tell yes a story relating to the auld carle that wad
mak the hair o' yer head stand upright," said a
bluff looking country fellow, whom, from his north-


158
A WREATH
ern accent, I deemed, I believe justly, a native of
the sister kingdom" Maister O'Rourke himsel
was the very ane on whom the auld lad played his
pranks. One Mr. O'Mulligan was after getting in
his harvest, and he proposed to give some of the
boys wha helped him a bit o' a treat; and so he
gathered some o' the neighbours together in the
gude auld way, and he gied them plenty o' the na-
tive to wash it down wi'. So, d'ye see, when they
were a' a wee thing hearty, so that they cared nae
mair for seeing the Auld Boy than they wad for
seeing ane o' their ain sels, Weel,' says Billy
M'Comisky, it is I that wish we had his Reve-
rence the auld Hermit here, we would gar him
play some o' his strange tricks, just to enliven us
a bit; and as he's fond o' a drap o' the cratur,*
why it's how I think he would have little objection.'
And so it was, as it is aye said, 'spaek o' the Deil,
and he'll mak his appearance ;' wha should just
come round the hill but his reverence-we spied
him out o' the window where we sat. So out boults
Bill, and accosts him wi', 'I hope yer Reverence is
weel; may be yer Reverence wad like to be after
wetting yer Reverence's whistle?' 'I thank ye,
Bill; but I'll take none the night.' However, after
a good deal o' pressing, his Reverence at length
• The Hermit of the Lakes was latterly greatly addicted to drink.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
159
consented; and so when he came, there he stood,
like a statute, or a spectre, with his eyes fixed on
the ground, neither saying aye nor no to ane or
other o' the company; and having drank off a
glass o' the native, was about to retire, when Bill
again accosted him, wi', 'May it please yer Re-
verence's grace, as we are all a wee thing hearty,
and up for a bit o' fun, we have been after thinking
that maybe yer Reverence would condescind to
shew us some specimen of your great larning and
your supernatheral powers-as we understand yer
Reverence is well acquainted wi' the black art.'-
So his Reverence, wi' a great frown, replied,
'Young man, ye know na what ye seek for-could
ye stand to see the dead raised?' Ay, deed, could
I-or the Deil himsel,' quoth Bill. But I am
nae gude at telling a story, genteels; and maybe
you yoursel, Maister O'Rourke, wad hae the kind-
ness just to tell the gentlefolks the story as it occur-
red, as sure you hae the best right to mind it, you
wha were so near losing your life by the doings o'
the auld carle."
6
"And sure, Master Magregor, it is you that
could tell a story with a grace; but as you are so
condescindin, why I will do my best to tell it to
the company. So, d'ye see, genteels, as Master
Magregor has just informed you, Bill M'Comisky
was after asking his Reverince to shew them some


160
A WREATH
• If
·
<
of his tricks. So says his Reverince to Bill,
you have a great desire, I will let you see some of
your ould acquaintances.'-To be sure he spoke in
far more larned and nater language than I can
remimber. But,' says he, mind ye, my lads, if
the Ould Boy runs away with one of you, while
trying the experiment, you must not blame me for
it, but your own curosity. Deil a fear,' says
Bill. So to work they went; and the boys all com-
menced, and swept one end of the barn quite clean.
And then, d'ye see, his Reverince axed me could
I get him a Bible and a pair of candles; and so
says I, it's I that could get you as many candles
as there are days in the week, if ye wanted them;
but I think it is as how there is not a Bible or a
Testament in the parish, save and except what is
to be found in the Protestant Church-since the
time Father Pat laid his conjunctions upon the peo-
ple not to let them inside their cabins; for, d'ye see
he tould us they were not saunsy, that neither luck
nor grace would attend people while they did so.'
But after bethinking myself a bit, thinks I, and
maybe Master Fitzhenry, the minister's nephee,
would slip us the lend of one for a bit. So off I
cuts, yer honours; and faith maybe it was I that
wasn't long bringing it to the boys, who by the
time I came back had two mowld candles nately
sated upon a table, which they had placed right in
•


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
161
6
·
6
the middle of the barn, d'ye see, and all round
about which the ould boy (that's the ould hermit I
mane) had drawn a ring or circle with a piece of
chalk. But I should hae tould you they had also
a chair placed beside the table, inside the ring,
mind ye; and so taking the Bible from me, he open-
ed it at a sartain varse, and layin' it on the table,
he asked Bill if he could read? By the powers,
I never spelt a letter in my life,' said Bill. Och,
then you won't do,' said his Reverince; Is there
any one here that can read ?' So says I, Here
am I, your Reverince; and I could read I may say
since the day I was born:' for yer honours must
know, although I am only a poor man now, I'm
come of a good sort, d'ye see-there's some of the
thick blood of the country in my veins after all;
and although 1 say it myself, that oughtn't to say
it, I got the best larning of any boy within ten
miles of my father's house, d'ye see. But as I was
after telling ye, when I told him I could both read
and write, his Reverince axes me, Young man,'
says he-for I was young then, yer honours-
'young man,' says he-at the same time looking
at me with both his eyes, as though he would have
pierced them through my very heart-" d'ye think
you could stan' to hould a conversation with an
ould friend of your's, who has been dead awhile, if
I were to bring him to life again?' And I'm the
6


162
A WREATH
C
boy that could,' says I; for at that time I was nei-
ther afeard of ghost or hobgoblin, and besides that,
I had taken a hearty sup of the cratur, d'ye see:
so down he sets me on the chair, and he gives me
a couple of verses to read; and he says to me,
'Now Paddy O'Rourke, I know you are not a bad
sort of a boy, and I would not wish that any acci-
dent should happen to ye; but as you value your
life and sowl, do not on any account come outside
of that ring that I have chalked on the floor. Ne-
ver fear me,' says I-although I am bowld to con-
fess I did feel a little twitter of terror come across
my mind, just at the moment they all began to
leave me alone, with the Bible and the two mowld
candles; but out they went, and sure enough, as
soon as they got out, what does his Reverence do
but very carefully locks the door on the outside-
part of the ceremony I did not much like, d'ye see;
but may be it was as how he did not wish to let his
black majesty run away with me body and bones;
but there I was left; and sure enough I continued
reading mighty attentively, when all of a sudden I
hears three great knocks upon the barn door, and
just liftin' up my eyes a bit, what d'ye think does
I see, but the figure upon the wall of a man that
I knew right well, who was one of the greatest ould
devils about the whole country, and who would
have been just three months dead, had he lived
-a


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
163
till the Friday following. The sight of the Ould
Boy himself, with his club foot, could not have
frightened me more; and had I been the owner of
the squire's great grand estate, which to be sure I
may say was mine by right, for it formerly belong-
ed to my great grand-uncle; but never mind that
now, times may change again, when things will all
go to their right owners- -as I was saying, if I
had been the owner of it at the time, I would wil-
lingly have given it to have been at the right side of
the door; for I was sure and sartain that he would
never let me out a livin' man, for having disturbed
him from his quiet grave;-but what was I to do?
His Reverince had laid his biddin' upon me not to
stir outside the ring-and besides I had heard him
lockin' me in; so I continued with my eyes fixed
upon the Bible, though sorra a word could I see of
what was before me, and strange it was, I never
once thought of axing help of our blessed Lady;
but just as I was thinking about what I had best
be after doin', what should I hear but three other
great loud knocks, and again lookin' up-och, gen-
teels, the blood runs could in my ould veins as I
think of it-I sees the ould lad as large as life,
standing with his back against the wall, dressed in
his winding sheet, and his brogues on his feet,* and
* Formerly it was, and is still, the custom among the Roman
P


164
A WREATH
his teeth grinning, and shaking his fist as though
he would tear me to pieces. So it was I that didn't
know what to do any how-my very knees knocked
together with downright terror-when behould you,
all of a sudden I hears other three great knocks!
and over bounces ould Trevor to the very edge of the
ring! exclaiming, 'I'm Trevor, come to tear you!"
What followed I know not; all I recollect is, that
in a kind of phrenzy I whipped up one of the can-
dlesticks, and after throwin' it at him, I suppose I
fainted and fell, as they tould me afterwards they
heard a great clatter, and on commin' in, found
me lying on the floor, as dead as a door nail; and
many a time since have I thanked the blessed Var-
gin that I had the good luck to fall inside the ring,
for had but the black of my nail been on the out-
side, I would not have been now here to tell the
tale. So my story is finished, genteels; and all
that I say is, that I would not undergo the same
again for twice as much goold as the whole wide
world is worth."
As a kind of finale to the story, Magregor had
just mentioned that he could vouch for the truth of
all Mr. O'Rourke had said—and was telling us how
after they had left him inside the barn, the old her-
mit commenced his incantations by walking round
Catholics in many parts of the country to bury deceased relations,
with a pair of strong shoes or brogues fastened on their feet.


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
165
the barn three times, at the end of which he gaveth e
three knocks, at the same time muttering some gib-
berish to himself, that they could not understand—
when, in a moment, without any apparent cause,
we were all thrown into the most dreadful confusion
and dismay, by a tremendous explosion, which
seemed to shake the house about us to its very
foundation. The large fire around which we were
seated was hurled about the floor in a thousand di-
rections, the lights were extinguished, the women
and children in the other end of the house uttered a
dreadful scream, and several of the company,
among whom were the landlord and the Scotchman,
were stretched sprawling on the floor. An in-
stant invocation for the blessing of the Virgin was
simultaneously poured forth; and by the light of
some pieces of wood which still remained blazing,
I perceived two or three on their knees, busily en-
gaged in their devotions, and crossing themselves
with great fervor. The consternation having a little
subsided, and the fire having been again gathered
into its place, one and another once more ven-
tured to look about them and to speak; some ima-
gined they had been making too free with the cha-
racter of the old Hermit, and that he or his familiar
had thus hoped to be revenged; while others whis-
*
• There are no grates in many of the houses in the country;
large piles of turf and wood are heaped on the ground.


166
A WREATH
pered it was the curse of Denis O'Donnel that had
taken effect, and that Mr. O'Rourke had got a de-
cent warning not to be so inhospitable to a true
member of the Catholic Church at another time.
Leaving the matter to be adjusted among them-
selves, I was quietly slipping off to my bed, not
well knowing what to think of the matter, when one
of the company, a young gentleman who was stop-
ping at the place, beckoned me to follow him to his
room, where, in the greatest glee, he informed me
the explosion was altogether a contrivance of his-
that it had been caused by a small quantity of gun-
powder, which he had put into a turf that had been
previously bored for the occasion; that he and his
companion had purposely introduced the stories
relative to ghosts and hobgoblins, in order to give
greater effect to the contrivance which he had form-
ed to frighten the simple ones. While I could not
but condemn in my own mind the impropriety of a
measure which might have been productive of se-
rious consequences, I confess I heartily enjoyed the
joke, and could not but give the young traveller
considerable credit for having so successfully at-
tained his object; for never did I see a company on
any other occasion so completely panic-struck as
they appeared to be-and I certainly was enabled
by the ecclaircissement to retire to rest in a much
more pleasant mood than I otherwise should have


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
167
done; for the whole affair had previously been a
mystery to me, and no doubt appeared rather un-
accountable.
Having recommended myself to the protection of
Him who neither slumbers nor sleeps,' I lay down,
fully resolved not to believe in ghosts or hobgoblins,
or to credit any of the marvellous stories which had
been related, until I had at least further confirma-
tion of their reality; but at the same time equally
determined to visit Mucruss Abbey with the ris-
ing sun, and if possible to find out who or what the
individual was who had taken up his abode within
the confines of its dreary ruins.
I was as good as my purpose; for just as the grey
dawn of twilight had streaked the eastern skies, I
was on my road towards Mucruss, and ere the
sun had topped the opposing mountain, I had gain-
ed a view of the spire of the Abbey, as it peeped
from amidst a grove of tall and stately trees, by
which it was surrounded on every side. Even now
I well remember I could not but frequently pause
to contemplate the grandeur and loveliness of the
scenery around me. Chased by the rising sun-
beams, the mists of the morning appeared fast flit-
ting away, as if anxious again to mingle in the wa-
ters of their great parent, the Atlantic. Before me
lay the lovely lake, richly embroidered with innu-
merable islands, and reflecting from its azure sur-
P 3


168
A WREATH
face the beautifully-diversified scenery around-the
waving forest, and the more sombre-shaded moun-
tain from whose stupendous sides the stunted oak or
the aged holly, festooned with ivy, sprung sponta-
neous. My path lay alongside and partly through
a wood, and the scenery which frequently burst
upon my view was really enchanting;-at one mo-
ment the cerulean heaven, which had been for a
time obscured, appeared through some opening
vista, as reflected in the broad expanse of water
which lay beneath me; while at the next step my
eye rested on richly planted lawns, or was borne
along the hanging woods which boldly swept along
the mountain's side.
Wrought by the stillness and solemnity of the
scene into a kind of sublime contemplation, and al-
most forgetting the object of my excursion, I had
strolled along to within a very short distance of the
Abbey. It was at that time a fine old ruin--a pic-
turesque emblem of greatness in decay-situated
on an eminence rising over the lake, and complete-
ly surrounded by trees of various growth and spe-
cies. A pointed door-way, ornamented with va-
rious mouldings, shewed the entrance to the inte-
rior; while innumerable relics of mortality, piled
in fantastic groupes on either side the aisle, as-
sured me of the truth of what I had been told by
my guide on the preceding day, that it was the


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
169
aomum ultimum (until the resurrection) of many who
had at one time given life and animation to the
scenery around.
As I advanced into the interior of the choir, a
feeling of peculiar solemnity appeared to steal over
my soul: I experienced a kind of involuntary shud-
der. The place was gloomy and awful; and the
idea that the only being it contained was one
whose mysterious character rendered him rather an
object of dread than otherwise, created an appre-
hension in my mind that all my efforts to the con-
trary could not suppress. I could almost have
wished myself exhumed, and once more among
those who lived and breathed. Nor were my ap-
prehensions allayed on proceeding towards the
cloister, a dismal area of considerable extent, in
the midst of which spread an immense yew, whose
stem appeared to be thirty or forty feet in height,
and the branches of which formed a canopy so com-
plete, as to render the place gloomy to a degree;
the light being scarcely sufficient to point out the
mouldering tombstones which lay beneath its shade.
Scarcely knowing whither I went, I still proceeded
forward; when, on turning the angle of a corridor,
which, from the information I had received from
my guide, I conjectured might lead to the chamber
in which the Hermit had taken up his abode, I ob-
served at the farther end a dim sepulchral light,
which seemed as though it proceeded from an ex-


170
A WREATH
piring lamp or taper. With a palpitating heart I
advanced towards it, when in an instant a sudden
flash seemed to pass me by, and I was left in al-
most total darkness. I hastily turned, and was en-
deavouring to retrace my steps with that expedition
which is prompted by fear, when I heard the sound
of footsteps quickly following me; but unfortunate-
ly in my hurry to regain the cloister, having kept
too much to the one side of the aisle, my foot was
tripped by some relic of mortality, and ere I could
recover myself, I fell violently forward, and tum-
bling over a coffin, which, from having been par-
tially decayed, burst beneath my weight, in an in-
stant I found myself as if in the strict embrace of
a lifeless body. Whether from the effect of the
fright or the fall I cannot say, but one thing is cer-
tain, I was so stunned that I lay for a moment mo-
tionless as the corpse beside me, and was only
roused from my stupor by feeling myself rudely
raised from my position by a gaunt and grisly
hand, which I could at the moment scarcely think
human, so fierce was the grasp with which I was
seized, but which, on approaching the cloister, I
perceived to be that of the very person I had seen
the evening before in the boat-who, fixing his
eyes upon me with a fiend-like scowl, enquired, in
a voice which thrilled through every nerve in my
body, what had brought me thither?-and ere I
could reply, seizing me by the shoulder, and


FROM THE EMERALD ISLE.
171
shaking me violently, he exclaimed in terrific ac-
cents, "Presumptuous wretch, begone! and know
that thou hast done to me an irreparable injury.
The spell is broken-I am undone." Then strik-
ing his hand violently on his forehead, as if in
agony, "Oh, eternity, eternity! am I now to real-
ize thy horrors?-fearful foreboding! sad reality!
lost-lost-lost!" Here clenching his hands in
evident distraction, he remained a moment silent,
as if lost in thought; and so petrified was 1, that I
really felt unable to move from the spot on which 1
stood. Apparently subdued in feeling, he again
addressed me in a much milder mood: " Young
man, I forgive your rashness. By your coming
here this morning you have fulfilled an augury—
you have sealed my doom: but beware! Behold
in me the effects of unbounded curiosity, of scepti-
cism and impiety! God is just-and I deserve my
doom; I myself made the bargain-I bartered my
soul but I will not recal past thoughts-My
days are numbered-the future only remains. for
me." Then again, as if in the most dreadful de-
spair, he exclaimed, "Lost-lost-lost!" As he
pronounced these words, whether it was reality or
the conjuration of fancy, from the state in which
my mind was at the moment, I cannot tell-but I
thought I perceived something again flit by me, as
if in a flash of fire, and I imagined I heard the
word "Away, away!" distinctly repeated. At


172
A WREATH
that moment the Hermit hurried towards the en-
trance of the Abbey: I followed as fast as my
trembling limbs would carry me, and having gain-
ed the door, I saw him gliding rapidly along towards
the lake, where he leaped into a boat-in which sat
a little black man. In a momont they had gained
the middle of the lake-the next they were lost to
my view for ever.
Deeply musing on the extraordinary occurrences
I had witnessed, and scarcely believing their reali-
ty, though evidenced by so many of my senses, I
returned to the inn; and but for an injury which I
had sustained from the fall I got, could almost have
persuaded myself, that the entire was a vision of
my brain. This much, however, I certainly ascer-
tained, that the Hermit had at one time been a
Priest; that he had lived many years in Italy; had
been a man of very depraved and dissolute charac-
ter, and it was supposed had retired to the desert-
ed Abbey, in hopes, by a severe penance, to make
amends for former transgressions. I have since
learned it was never known by those in the neigh-
bourhood what had become of him; nor was his
boat ever afterwards seen on the lake.
FINIS.


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20412.9.8
Essays, and sketches of Irish life
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