THE sacred repository for the mouldering remains of the dead, in a general view is regarded with a lightness of sentiment unbecoming to its character. The common footpath which is too frequently permitted, excludes that hallowed feeling which ought to be awakened in every heart, while contemplating the mansions of the dead. The shadowy paths invite the frolics of the young, and thus early is engendered the false and careless expression of sentiment which accompanies too many in after years.

The anxious heavy heart would willingly unload the burden of its grief over the tomb of its beloved one, but heartless intruders forbid the satisfaction; and retirement and contemplation, whose habitation should be fixed in such a sanctuary, are checked by the loud and merry laugh. The awakened chord of nature's grief meets no responding sympathy in that holy spot, and the intrusive gaze and callous heart afford no relief to misery. Surely there exists an error in thus throwing down the portals of consolation to allow a footpath to the traveller. It is not that all who tread the hallowed ground pass onward with indifference, but habit, and the constant succession of these scenes in the daily walk, call forth an increasing apathy towards the solemn religious awe that should pervade the heart. Children sport and gambol on the turf-they miss a companion to-day,

and see it laid low-the giddy thought is arrested for a moment; reflection enters as a passer-by into the mind of the playmates, and the bell's deep tone strikes for once an awful feeling in their souls-tomorrow the green grass grows again, and their laughter peals o'er the grave of their friend. When years mature the child-the old and well-remembered walk is again frequented, without one thought pregnant with the sad reality. But when the new-turned earth is ready to receive the parent of that thoughtless heart-when the stone has closed him from the sight, how changed is every sentiment, how altered every emotion.-How gladly would he repair in the quiet hour (could but that quiet hour be found) to vent his heavy sorrow and his smothered grief-how gladly there seek peace to his disturbed soul in the presence of his Maker-there pour forth the fervent prayer to his Redeemer, the Resurrection, and the Life-there renew his promises of obedience, and there seek mercy from his God:-But no! he has participated in-he has helped to break through the retirement of the grave.

Oh ye mothers! ye that would have your little ones grow up in the fear and admonition of the Lord, pause, ere ye select the church-yard as their common walk. Can there be a delight excelling that which a parent would then reserve, to stroll in the still calm of evening, uninterrupted but by grief, along the sequestered paths;-there point out to little ones, whose souls are committed to their charge to be prepared for heaven, the calmness of that last sleep, the hope of that resurrection-there raise the hearts from nature, up to nature's God'-there hear the rustling of the autumnal breeze, and there burst into

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a theme of praise to that all-merciful Creator who, by the falling leaves and renewed spring, has made the resurrection and newness of life comprehensible to our weak capacities.

The difference existing between the noisy churchyards, the gloomy vaults of the metropolis, and the delightful retirement of the Père la chaise of Paris, has ever astonished me. In the former, the moment a friend is deposited within the precincts of the dead, communication, or I should say indulgence of feeling, is cut off for ever, except as the mind may revert to its loss at home; and alas! how soon does it sink into oblivion! But in the latter, how lovely is the scene of that renewed grief which annually presents an offering at the tomb of its lost happiness. Some may think this public exhibition of sorrow cannot be so genuine, so heartfelt, as that which passes within. It may be so in the first unconscious burst; but the advantage consists in the constant opportunity afforded of recalling such scenes, at a moment when the heart is most softened to receive a deep impression, and from the indulgence of solemn retrospections. There are moments which every one could devote to profitable meditations—when the soul sinks at its own sinfulness, and the opportunity thus afforded of practising the duty of resignation to the Divine will must, I think, advance the mind one step at least in the path of obedience.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE CHRISTIAN,
LADY'S MAGAZINE.

311

Ir has been a matter of surprise to me, that, among the numerous plans for benefiting the lower classes of our Irish neighbours, the inhabitants of the islands appear to have been entirely unnoticed; and no system of instruction has ever been proposed (as far as I can learn) which will extend its influence to them. The extent of their population seems to be unknown; or surely when so much has been said and done for the islands on the west coast of Scotland, these I allude to, with a number of residents amounting to nearly fifty thousand souls, would never be allowed to perish in heathen darkness, with no single effort made to enlighten them. I have extracted from Anderson's Sketches of the Native Irish, a short notice of the chief islands; believing it will be as new to many of your readers, as it has been to those to whom I have mentioned it, and hoping it may arouse them, with heart and hand, to exert themselves for the relief of their benighted neighbours.

*

*

Round the coast of this fine country (Ireland) are innumerable islands. * Raghlin, on the north coast of Antrim, is nearly five miles long, and three and a-half broad, containing upwards of

eleven hundred inhabitants. It abounds with curious arrangements of basaltic pillars, similar to those of the Giant's Causeway; and is memorable as the retreat of Robert Bruce in 1306. The attachment of the natives to their little island is extreme, and one of their worst wishes to any neighbour who has injured them, is that he may end his days in exile. from it.

Tory, on the north coast of Donegal, is three miles long, and one broad, and has three hundred inhabitants. They are unacquainted with any other law than that of their old Brehon code. They choose their own chief judge, and to his mandate, from his throne of turf, the people yield a ready obedience. They seldom come to the main land. About two years ago, a fishing-boat, with seven or eight men, being driven by stress of weather into Ard's Bay, it turned out that not one of them had been in Ireland before. The trees actually astonished them, and they were seen putting leaves and small branches into their pockets, to show on their return.

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Innismurry, on the coast of Sligo, is but small, having only sixty-cne inhabitants. In this isle there is a large image of wood, rudely carved, and painted red, which these poor people call Father Molash, and to which it is affirmed they pay devotion: and they have an altar, built of loose round stones, called the cursing altar,' to which they are said to apply, if any one has injured them.

Achill, on the coast of Mayo, is thirteen miles long, by nine or ten broad, and contains four thousand souls. The South Arran Isles contain 2276 souls.