mother's "Hibernian horrors," than of showing the school in which I was trained, I have made this somewhat lengthened exposé. It may, however, convey to my reader some faint impression of the feelings which animated me at the outset of my career in Ireland. I have already mentioned the delight I experienced with the society at the viceroy's table; so much brilJiancy, so much wit, so much of conversational power, until that moment I had no conception of; now, however, while reflecting on it, I was actually astonished to find how far the whole scene contributed to the support of my ancient prejudices. I well knew that a party of the highest functionaries, bishops, and law-officers of the crown would not have conducted themselves in the same manner in England. I stopped not to inquire whether it was more the wit or the will that was wanting; I did not dwell upon the fact, that the meeting was a purely convivial one, to which I was admitted by the kindness and condescension of the duke; but so easily will a warped and bigoted impression find food for its indulgence, I only saw in the meeting an additional evidence of my early convictions. How far my theorizing on this point might have led me-whether eventually I should have come to the conclusion, that the Irish nation were lying in the darkest blindness of barbarism; while, by special intervention of Providence, I was about to be erected into a species of double revolving light-it is difficult to say, when a tap at the door suddenly aroused me from my musings. "Are ye awake, yet?" said a harsh, husky voice, like a bear in bronchitis, which I had no difficulty in pronouncing to be Corny's. "Yes, come in," cried I; "what hour is it?" "Somewhere after ten," replied he sulkily; "you're the first I ever heerd ask the clock, in the eight years I have lived here: are ye ready for your morning?" "My what!" said I, with some surprise. "Did'nt I say it plain enough? Is it the brogue that bothers you?" As he said this, with a most sarcastic grin, he poured from a large jug he held in one hand, a brimming goblet full of some white compound, and handed it over to me. Preferring at once to explore rather than to question the intractable Corny, I put it to my lips, and found it to be capital milk-punch, concocted with great skill, and seasoned with what O'Grady afterwards called "a notion of nutmeg." "Oh! devil fear you that ye'll like it. Sorrow one of you ever left as much in the jug as 'ud make a foot-bath for a flea." "Trate me well! faix, them that 'ud come here for good tratement, would go to the devil for divarsion. There's master Phil himself, that I used to bate when he was a child, many's the time, when his father, rest his sowl, was up at the coorts,―ay, strapped him till he hadn't a spot that was'nt sore an him. And look at him now! oh, wirra! you'd think I never took ha'porth of pains with him. Ugh!-the haythens-the Turks!" "This is all very bad, Corny; hand me those boots." "And thim's boots!" said he, with a contemptuous expression on his face that would have struck horror to the heart of Hoby. "Well, well." Here he looked up as though the profligacy and degene racy of the age were transgressing all bounde. I had very little difficulty in finding my friend's quarters; for, as his door lay open, and as he himself was carolling away, at the very top of his lungs, some popular melody of the day, I speedily found myself beyond the threshold. “Ah! Hinton, my hearty, how goes it? Your head-piece nothing the worse, I hope, for either the car or the claret? By-the-bye, capital claret that is: you've nothing like it in England.” I could scarce help a smile at the remark, as he proceeded. "But come, my boy, sit down; help yourself to a cutlet, and make yourself quite at home in Mount O'Grady." "Mount O'Grady?" repeated I; "Ha! in allu sion, I suppose, to these confounded two flights one has to climb up to you." 66 Nothing of the kind; the name has a very diffe rent origin. Tea or coffee? there's the Congou. Now, my boy, the fact is, we O'Gradys were once upon a time very great folk in our way-lived in an uncouth old barrack, with battlements and a keep upon the Shannon, where we ravaged the country for miles round, and did as much mischief, and committed as much pillage upon the peaceable inhabitants, as any respectable old family in the province. Time, however, wagged on; luck changed; your countrymen came pouring in upon us with newfangled notions of reading, writing, and road-making; police and petty sessions; and a thousand other vexatious contrivances followed, to worry and puzzle the heads of simple country gentlemen; so that, at last, instead of taking to the hill-side for our mutton, we were reduced to take a market-cart, and employ a thieving rogue in Dublin to supply us with poor claret, instead of making a trip over to Gal way, where a smuggling craft brought us our lush, with a bouquet fresh from Bourdeaux. But the worst wasn't come; for, you see, a litigious spirit grew up in the country, and a kind of vindictive habit of pursuing you for your debts. Now, we always contrived, somehow or other, to have rather a confused way of managing our exchequer. tenant on the property ever precisely knew what be owed; and, as we possessed no record what he paid, our income was rather obtained after the manner of levying a tribute, than receiving a legal debt. Meanwhile, we pushed our credit like a new colony: whenever a loan was to be obtained, it was little we cared for ten, twelve, or even fifteen per cent.; and, as we kept a jolly honse, a good cook, good claret, and had the best pack of beagles in the country, he'd have been a hardy creditor who'd have ventured to push us to extremities. Even sheep, however, they say, get courage when they flock together; and so this contemptible herd of tailors, tithe-proctors, butchers, barristers, and bootmakers, took heart of grace, and laid siege to us all in form. My grandfather, Phil-for I was called after him, who always spent his money like a gentleman-had no notion of figuring in the Four Courts; but he sent Tom Dar No ey, his cousin, up to town to call out as many of the plaintiffs as would fight, and to threaten the remainder that, if they did not withdraw their suits, they'd have more need of the surgeon than of the attorney-general; for they shouldn't have a whole bone in their body by Michaelmas-day. Another catlet, Hinton: but I'm tiring you with all these family matters." Not at all; go on, I beg of you. I want to hear how your grand father got out of his difficulties." "Faith, I wish you could; it would be equally pleasant news to myself; but, unfortunately, his beautiful plan only made bad worse; for they began fresh actions. Some, for provocation to fight a duel; others for threats of assault and battery; and the short of it was, as my grandfather wouldn't enter a defence, they obtained their verdicts, and got judgments, with all the costs." "The devil they did! That must have pushed him hard." "So it did; indeed, it got the better of his temper, and he that was one of the heartiest, pleasantest fellows in the province, became, in a manner, morose and silent; and, instead of surrendering possession, peaceably and quietly, he went down to the gate, and took a sitting shot at the sub-sheriff, who was there in a tax-cart." "Bless my soul! Did he kill him?" "No; he only ruffled his feathers, and broke his thigh; but it was bad enough, for he had to go over to France, till it blew over. Well, it was either vexation or the climate, or, may be, the weak wines, or, perhaps, all three, undermined his constitution, but he died at eighty-four,-the only one of the family ever cut off early, except such as were shot, or the like." "Well, but your father "I am coming to him. My grandfather sent for him from school, when he was dying, and he made him swear he would be a lawyer. Morris will be a thorn in their flesh yet,' said he; and look to it, my boy,' he cried, 'I leave you a Chancery suit that has nearly broke eight families and the hearts of two chancellors;-see that you keep it going-sell every stick on the estate-put all the beggars in the barony on the property,-beg, borrow, and steal them, plough up all the grazing-land; and I'll tell you a better trick than all Here a fit of coughing interrupted the pious old gentleman, and when it was over, so was he!" "Dead!" said I. "As a door-nail!-Well, my father was dutiful; he kept the suit moving till he got called to the bar! Once there, he gave it all his spare moments; and when there was nothing doing in the Common Pleas or King's Bench, he was sure to come down with a new bill, or a declaration, before the master, or a writ of error or a point of law for a jury, till at last, when no case was ready to come on, the sitting judge would call out, let us hear O'Grady,-in appeal, or in error, or whatever it was. But, to make my story short, my father became a first-rate lawyer, by the practice of his own suit,-rose to a silk gown, was made solicitor and attorney-general-afterwards, chief-justice" "And the suit?" "Oh! the suit survived him, and became my property but, somehow, I didn't succeed in the management quite as well as my father; and I found that my estate cost me somewhere about fifteen hundred a year not to mention more oaths than fifty years of purgatory could pay off. This was a high premium to pay for figuring every term on the list of trials, so I raised a thousand pounds on my commission, gave it to Nick M'Namara, to take the property off my hands, and, as my father's last injunction was-never rest till you sleep in Mount O'Grady,why, I just baptized my present abode by that name, and here I live with the easy conscience of a dutiful and affectionate child, that took the shortest and speediest way of fulfilling his father's testament." 66 By Jove! a most singular narrative. I shouldn't like to have parted with the old place, however." "Faith, I don't know; I never was much there. It was a rackety, tumble-down old concern, with rattling windows; rooks and rats, pretty much like this; and, what between my duns and Corny Delany, I very often think I am back there again. There wasn't as good a room as this in the whole house, not to speak of the pictures. Isn't that likeness of Darcy capital? You saw him last night. He sat next Curran. Come, I've no Curaçoa to offer you, but try this Usquebaugh." "By-the-bye, that Corny is a strange character. I rather think, if I were you, I should have let him go with the property." 99 "Let him go! Egad, that's not so easy as you think. Nothing but death will ever part us.' "I really cannot comprehend how you endure him; he'd drive me mad." 66 "Attachment to your family, then?" "Well, the truth is, Corny is a most pious Catholic. The church has unbounded influence and control over all his actions. Secondly, he is a devout believer in ghosts, particularly my grand father's, which, I must, confess, I have personated two or three times myself, when his temper had nearly tortured me into a brain-fever; so that, between purgatory and apparitions, fears here and hereafter, I keep him pretty busy. There's a friend of mine, a priest, one Father Tom Loftus-" "I've heard that name before somewhere.""Scarcely, I think; I'm not aware that he was ever in England: but he's a glorious fellow; I'll make you known to him one of these days: and, when you have seen a little more of Ireland, I am certain you'll like him. But I'm forgetting; it must be late; we have a field-day, you know, in the Park." "What am I to do for a mount? I've brought no horses with me." "Oh, I've arranged all that. See, there are the nags already: that dark chesnut I destine for you: and, come along, we have no time to lose; there go the carriages, and here comes our worthy confrère and fellow aid-de-camp: do you know him?" "Who is it, pray?" "Lord Dudley De Vere, the most confounded puppy, and the emptiest ass- -But here he is." "De Vere, my friend, Mr. Hinton. One of ours." His lordship raised his delicate-looking eyebrows as high as he was able, letting fall his glass at the same moment from the corner of his eye; and, while he adjusted his stock at the glass, lisped out, "Ah-yes-very happy. In the Guards, I think. | joke, which he felt too deeply; "I thought I knew Know Douglas, don't you?" 66 Yes, very slightly." "When did you come-to-day ?" "No, last night." "Must have got a buffeting; blew very fresh. You don't happen to know the odds on the Oaks?" "Hecate, they say, is falling. I rather heard a good account of the mare.' "Indeed," said he, while his cold, inanimate features brightened up with a momentary flush of excitement. "Take you five to two, or give you the odds, you don't name the winner on the double event." A look from O'Grady decided me at once on declining the proffered wager; and his lordship once more returned to the mirror and his self-admiration. "I say, O'Grady, do come here for a minute. What the deuse can that be?" Here an immoderate fit of laughter from his lordship brought us both to the window. The figure to which his attention was directed, was certainly not a little remarkable. Mounted upon an animal of the smallest possible dimensions, sat, or rather stood, the figure of a tall, guant, raw-boned looking man, in a livery of the gaudiest blue and yellow, his hat garnished with silver lace, while long tags of the same material were festooned gracefully from his shoulder to his breast; his feet nearly touched the ground, and gave him rather the appearance of one progressing with a pony between his legs, than of a figure on horseback: he carried under one arm a leather pocket, like a despatch-bag; and as he sauntered slowly about, with his eyes directed hither and thither, seemed like some one in search of some unknown locality. The roar of laughter which issued from our window drew his attention to that quarter, and he immediately touched his hat, while a look of pleased recognition played across his countenance. "Holloa! Tim," cried O'Grady, "what's in the wind now ?" Tim's answer was inaudible; but inserting his hand into the leathern conveniency already mentioned, he drew forth a card of most portentons dimensions. By this time Corny's voice could be heard joining the conversation. the little pony, though. Old three-and-fourpence; his infernal canter always sounds in my ears like the jargon of a bill of costs." Here comes Corny," said O'Grady. "What have you got there?" "There 'tis for you," replied he, throwing, with an air of the most profound disdain, a large card upon the table; while, as he left the room, he mut tered some very sagacious reflections about the horrors of low company-his father, the judge-the best in the land-riotous, disorderly life: the whole concluded with an imprecation upon heathens and Turks, with which he managed to accomplish his exit. "Capital, by Jove!" said Lord Dudley, as he surveyed the card with his glass. "Mr. and Mrs. Paul Rooney presents-the devil they does-presents their compliments, and requests the honour of Captain O'Grady's company at dinner on Friday, the 8th, at half-past seven o'clock." "How good! glorious, by Jove! Eh, O'Grady? you are a sure ticket there; l'ami de la maison ?” O'Grady's cheek became red at these words; and a flashing expression in his eyes told how deeply he felt them. He turned sharply round, his lip quivering with passion; then checking himself suddenly, he burst into an affected laugh. "You'll go too, won't you?" "I? No, faith; they caught me once; but then, the fact was, a protest and an invitation were both served on me together. I couldn't accept one, so I did the other." "Well, I must confess," said O'Grady, in a firm, resolute tone," there may be many more fashionable people than our friends; but I, for one, scruple not to say, I have received many kindnesses from them, and am deeply, sincerely grateful.” "As far as doing a bit of paper now and then, when one is hard up," said Lord Dudley, "why, perhaps, I'm somewhat of your mind; but, if one must take the discount out in dinners, it's an infernal bore." "And yet," said O'Grady, maliciously, "I've seen your lordship tax your powers to play the agreeable at these same dinners; and I think your memory be"Arrah, give it here, and don't be making a baste trays you in supposing you have only been there of yourself. Isn't the very battle-axe guards laugh- once. I, myself, have met you at least four times." ing at you? I'm sure I wonder how a Christian would "Only shows how devilish hard up I must have make a merry-andrew of himself by wearing such been," was the cool reply; "but now, as the goclothes; you're more like a play-actor nor a respect-vernor begins to behave better, I think I'll cut Paul." able servant." With these words he snatched, rather than accept ed, the proffered card; and Tim, with another flourish of his hat, and a singularity droll grin, meant to convey his appreciation of cross Corny, plunged the spurs till his legs met under the belly of the little animal, and cantered out of the courtyard amid the laughter of the bystanders, in which even the sentinels on duty could not refrain from participating. "What the devil can it be?" cried Lord Dudley; "he evidently knows you, O'Grady." "And you too, my lord; his master has helped you to a cool hundred or two more than once before now." "Eh-what-you don't say so! Not our worthy friend Paul-eh? Why, confound it, I never should have known Timothy in that dress." "No!" said O'Grady, slyly; "I acknowledge it is not exactly his costume, when he serves a latitat." "Ah, ha," cried the other, trying to laugh at the "I'm certain you will," said O'Grady, with an emphasis that could not be mistaken: "but come, Hinton, we had better be moving; there's some stir at the portico yonder; I suppose they're coming." At this moment the tramp of cavalry announced the arrival of the guard of honour; the drums beat; the troops stood to arms, and we had barely time to mount our horses, when the viceregal party took their places in the carriages, and we all set out fer the Phoenix. "Confess, Hinton, it is worth while being a soldier to be in Ireland." This was O'Grady's observation, as we rode down Parliament street, beside the carriage of the viceroy. It was the first occasion of a field-day since the arrival of his excellency, and all Dublin was on the tiptoe of expectation at the prospect. Handkerchiefs were waved from the windows; streamers and banners floated from the house-tops; patriotic devices and allegoric representations of Erin sitting at a plentiful board, opposite an elderly gentleman with a ducal coronet, met us at every turn of the way. The streets were lite- | cars, or a noddy with its fourteen insides. Horserally crammed with people. The band played Pa- men there were, too, in abundance. Were I to judge trick's day; the mob shouted; his grace bowed; and, from the spectacle before me, I should say that the down to Phil O'Grady himself, who winked at the Irish were the most equestrian people of the globe; pretty girls as he passed, there did not seem an un- and at what a pace they went! Caring little or nooccupied man in the whole procession. On we went, thing for the foot-passengers, they only drew rein following the line of the quays, threading our way when their blown steeds were unable to go further, through a bare-legged, ragged population, bawling and then dashed onwards like a charge, amid a shower themselves hoarse with energetic desires for prospe- of oaths, curses and imprecations, half-drowned in rity to Ireland. Yes, thought I, as I looked upon the laughter that burst on every side. Deputations the worn, dilapidated. houses, the faded and bygone there were also from various branches of trade, enequipages, the tarnished finery of better days; yes, treating their graces to wear and to patronize the my father was right: these people are very different manufacture of the country, and to conform in many from their neighbours; their very prosperity has an respects to its habits and customs: by all of which, air quite peculiar to itself. Every thing attested a in my then ignorance, I could only understand the state of poverty, a lack of trade, a want of comfort vehement desire of the population that the viceregal and of cleanliness; but still there was but one ex-court should go about in a state of nature, and limit pression prevalent in the mass-that of unbounded their diet to poteen and potatoes. good humour and gaiety. With a philosophy quite his own, poor Paddy seemed to feel a reflected pleasure from the supposed happiness of those around him. The fine clothes, the gorgeous equipages, the prancing chargers, the flowing plumes-all, in fact, that forms the appurtenances of wealth, constituting in his mind a kind of paradise on earth. He thought their possessors at least ought to be happy, and, like a good-hearted fellow, he was glad of it for their sakes. "Fine sight this, Hinton! Isn't it cheering?" said O'Grady, as his eye beamed with pleasure and delight. 66 Why, yes," said I, hesitatingly; "but don't you think if they wore shoes?" "Shoes" repeated he, contemptuously, "they'd never suffer such restrictions on their liberties. Look at them! they are the fellows to make soldiers of! The only fear of half-rations with them would be the risk of indigestion." There had been in the early part of the day an On we went, a strange and motley mass; the only abortive effort at a procession. The lord mayor and grave faces being a few of those who sat in gilded the sheriffs, in their state liveries, had gone forth coaches, with embroidered hammer-cloths; while with a proud following of their fellow-citizens; but every half-naked figure that flitted past, had a couna manœuvre, which hitherto had been supposed ex- tenance of reckless jollity and fun. But the same clusively the province of the navy, was here employ-discrepancy that pervaded the people and the procesed with unbounded success; and the hackney coachman, by "cutting the line" in several places, had completely disorganized the procession, which now presented the singular spectacle of an aldermanic "This, certainly," thought I, "is a strange land." functionary with emblazoned pannels and bedizened A reflection I had reason to recur to more than once horses, followed by a string of rackety jaunting in my after experience of Ireland. sion, was visible even in their dwellings; and the meanest hovels stood side by side with the public and private edifices of elegance and beauty. VOCAL MUSIC CONDUCIVE TO HEALTH.|in_singing." In the new establishment of infant schools for children of three and four years of age, every thing is taught by the aid of song. Their little lessons, their recitations, their arithmetical countings, are all chanted; and as they feel the importance of their own voices when joined together, they emulate each other in the power of vociferating. This exercise is found to be very beneficial to their health. Many instances have occurred of weakly children, of two or three years of age, who could scarcely support themselves, having become robust and healthy by this constant exercise of the lungs. These results are perfectly philosophical. Singing tends to expand the chest, and thus increase the activity and powers of the vital organs.”—Musical World. It was the opinion of Dr. Rush that singing by young ladies, whom the customs of society debar from many other kinds of healthy exercise, should be cultivated not only as an accomplishment, but as a means of preserving health. He particularly insists that vocal music should never be neglected in the education of a young lady; and states, that besides its salutary operation in soothing the cares of domestic life, it has a still more direct and important effect. "I here introduce a fact," says Dr. Rush, "which has been suggested to me by my profession: that is, the exercise of the organs of the breast by singing contributes very much to defend them from those diseases to which the climate and other causes expose them. The Germans are seldom afflicted with consumption, nor have I ever known more than one case of spitting blood amongst them. This, I believe, is in part occasioned by the strength which their lungs acquire by exercising them frequently in vocal music, which constitutes an essen- We understand that Mr. Thomas Carlyle has detial branch of their education." "The music mas- clined becoming a candidate for the chair of History, ter of our academy," says Gardener, "has furnished now vacant in the University of Edinburgh. Mr. me with an observation still more in favour of this Carlyle has communicated this determination to the opinion. He informs me that he had known several student who acted as Secretary in getting up the reinstances of persons strongly disposed to consump-quisition to the Faculty of Advocates in his favour.--tion, restored to health by the exercise of the lungs Scotsman. MR. CARLYLE. "Don't be afeard, sir," said Andy, who started on his errand in that peculiar pace which is elegantly called a sweep's trot;" and as the river lay between Owny Doyle's and the bottom, and was too deep for Andy to ford at that season, he went round by Dinny Dowling's mill, where a small wooden bridge crossed the stream. Andy's entrance into this world was quite in character with his after achievements, for he was nearly the death of his mother. She survived, however, to have herself clawed almost to death while her darling babby was in arms, for he would not take his nourishment from the parent fount unless he had one of his little red fists twisted into his mother's hair, which he dragged till he made her roar; while he diverted the pain by scratching her till the blood came, with the other. Nevertheless she swore he was "the loveliest and sweetest craythur the sun ever shined upon;" and when he was able to run about and wield a little stick, and smash every thing breakable belong-me, we can both have a ride." This was temptation ing to her, she only praised his precocious powers, and used to ask, “Did ever any one see a darlin' of his age handle a stick so bowld as he did?" Andy grew up in mischief and the admiration of his mammy; but, to do him justice, he never meant harm in the course of his life, and was most anxious to offer his services on all occasions to those who would accept them; but they were only the persons who had not already proved Andy's peculiar powers. There was a farmer hard by in this happy state of ignorance, named Owen Doyle, or, as he was familiarly called, Owny na Coppal, or, "Owen of the Horses," because he bred many of these animals, and sold them at the neighbouring fairs; and Andy one day offered his services to Owny when he was in want of some one to drive up a horse to his house from a distant "bottom," as low grounds by a river side are called in Ireland. “Oh, he's wild, Andy, and you'd never be able to ketch him," said Owny. "Throth, an' I'll engage I'll ketch him if you'll let me go. I never seen the horse I couldn't ketch, sir," said Andy, "Why, you little spridhogue, if he took to runnin' over the long bottom, it 'ud be more than a day's work for you to folly him." "Well, you're a willin' brat, any how; and so go, and God speed you!" said Owny. "Just gi' me a wisp o' hay an' a han'ful iv oats," said Andy, "if I should have to coax him." "Sartinly," said Owny, who entered the stable and came forth with the articles required by Andy, and a halter for the horse also. "Now, take care," said Owny, "that you're able to ride that horse if you get on him." "Oh never fear, sir. I can ride owld Lanty Gubbins's mule betther nor any o' the other boys on the common, and he couldn't throw me th' other day, though he kicked the shoes av him." Here he thought he might as well secure the assistance of Paudeen, the miller's son, to help him in catching his horse; so he looked about the place until he found him, and, telling him the errand on which he was going, said, "If you like to come wid sufficient for Paudeen, and the boys proceeded together to the bottom, and they were not long in securing the horse. When they had got the halter over his head, "Now," said Andy, "give me a lift on him;" and accordingly, by Paudeen's catching Andy's left foot in both his hands clasped together in the fashion of a stirrup, he hoisted his friend on the horse's back; and, as soon as he was secure there, Master Paudeen, by the aid of Andy's hand, contrived to scramble up after him; upon which Andy applied his heels to the horse's side with many vigorous kicks, and crying "hurrup "" at the same time, endeavoured to stimulate Owny's steed into something of a pace as he turned his head towards the mill. "Sure aren't you going to crass the river?" said Paudeen. No, I'm going to lave you at home." "Oh, I'd rather go up to Owny's, and it's the shortest way acrass the river. Yes, but I don't like." "Is it afeard you are?" said Paudeen. "Not I, indeed," said Andy; though it was really the fact, for the width of the stream startled him; "but Owny towld me to take grate care o' the baste, and I'm loath to wet his feet." "Go 'long wid you, you fool! what harm would it do him? Sure he's neither sugar nor salt, that he'd melt." "Well, I won't any how," said Andy, who by this time had got the horse into a good high trot, that shook every word of argument out of Paudeen's body besides, it was as much as the boys could do to keep their seats on Owny's Bucephalus, who was not long in reaching the miller's bridge. Here voice and halter were employed to pull him in, that he might cross the narrow wooden structure at a quiet pace. But whether his double load had given him the idea of double exertion, or that the pair of legs on each side sticking into his flanks, (and perhaps the horse was ticklish) made him go the faster, we know not; but the norse charged the bridge as if an Enniskilliner were on his back, and an enemy before him; and in two minutes his hoofs clattered like thunder on the bridge, that |