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blue for the occasion. Head-dress, crooked horn comb, bound to believe it, and to look for the reason of its exclusion and splendid brass bodkin.
to the other clause of the indictment. Dowager Mrs Fluggins-Body and train of snuff-coloured The Haymarket management is distinguished for its sensitivestuff, petticoat of deep crimson; the brilliancy of this truly ness in this way. We were informed by Mr. Morris that we beautiful dress was increased by a pair of large ticken might have orders whenever we would send to him for thera. pockets, worn outside of the petticoat. Head-dress, a most
It is unnecessary to add, that we declined to accept as a favour valuable antique straw-bonnet.
that which, if it be used at all, should be used as an unshackled Miss Fluggins-A light drapery of plain yellow linen and is always reducing the number. He is trying an experi
privilege. Mr. Morris gives very few orders to the newspapers, over a s prigged cotton-gown, petticoat gracefully sprinkled ment with his theatre similar to that wbich'the Frenchiman with pure-coloured spots. Head-dress large velveteen band, tried with his horse--when he has just succeeded in bringing it with a mother of pearl button in front; black worsted to live without orders, it is not unlikely that its nights will be stockings, à la Carraboo.
numbered. Mr.Price once said, that we wanted to drive an actress GENTLEMEN'S DRESSES.
off his stage, because we did not happen to esteem her talents as
highly as his interests required; and he even intimated someMr O'Mullaghan—A wallicoat of white drugget, deep thing about our admission to his theatre. That sort of ill temblue inexpressibles--wig unpowdered.
per is very foolish, because the criticism, if just, most prevail
, Mr Patrick O'Mullaghan-Jaciet and trousers of blue and, if unjust, it cannot overcome the force of general opifrieze-cravat blue and white handkerchief.
nion. At the Surrey, where the value of an order has been Mr Gulley—A brown jacket, handsomely patched at the very much lessened of late to the critic, they wished us to cutelbows with grey cloth-waist chequer. This gentleman's or, in plainer words, they wanted to make our privilege cos,
sent to an occasional “ little disappointment" in our admittance, declining to wear shoes, gave a peculiarly cool and easy free tingent on their good-will! so that one night we should feel dom to his fine figure.
ourselves entitled to the entree, and the next we sbould be turned from the doors.
We mention these trifling illustrations of the progress of THE PRESS AND THE THEATRES.
question in which tbe true interests of the drama are concerned,
merely to draw attention to the consideration of the subject. A question is gradually growing up between the press and If newspapers are to bave the free privilege, they should have the theatres, which, we suspect, must ultimately be resolved by it clear of all considerations of a personal or interested nature
. the public. The free admission of the press-a privilege sanc- To hold it as a sort of fee in band for services to be rendered, tioned by custom, and producing to the theatres enormous ad- would degrade the office of criticism to the level of the auction. vantages by way of publicity-has been latterly treated, in some eer who puffs the chattels committed to him for sale. No erifew instances, by managers, as if it were held upon good beha- tic whose intellect was superior to that of a puffing auctioneer, viour, and should be considered dependent upon the favourable or whose descriptive talents were less marvellous, would cathcharacter of the criticisms. According to this view it is not a sent to sell his powers at so small a rate. It would be better to privilege existing for the mutual good of the public and the put an end to free admissions at once than to grant them in this playhouses, but a bribe given by the manager to the dishonest slavish spirit. Newspapers that must, of necessity, incar a large critic.
expenditure in orber departments of taste, would not object to so Suppose this privilege tvere entirely abolished, and that the petty an outlay as this would occasion. But what would be the newspapers, offended at its withdrawal
, were to cease to notice result? None but the indepeodent papers would take the trou. the theatres, what would be the consequence? Why, two. ble of noticing the theatres---the coofluence of observation would thirds of the play-going people would lose their interest in thea cease ; and integrity alone would remain to chronicle the protricals; the stinulus that now make the new play and the fac gress of the stage. What an advantage would hereby be gaiovourite actor a common type of conversation, would be at an ed to the cause of sound criticism--but what a terrible riskit end; and the fame of the stage, and its nightly doings, would would be to the managers to lose the hope they now repose is be limited to the uncertain, loose, and capricious gossip of pri. timid and friendly journals.-Atlas. vate life. All theatrical managers are well assured of the great power of the newspapers in exciting the curiosity of the public,
BUONAPARTE'S MAY DAYS. and they know well enough that one paragraph of original com
The month of May seems to have been peculiarly inaus mentary is more valuable to them than a hundred advertise- picious to this celebrated character ; and the day of his
If they did not feel this, why should they exbibit such Death was the anniversary of several memorable occurree. anxiety to oblige the very meanest of those hangers-on at news ces in his;“ strange eventful history.” He who impelled bis paper offices, who have impudence enough to assume the airs of veteran troops to victory with the cry « Behold the sun of responsibility, and are mean enough to accept favours under Austerlitz !"" was “ lighted on his way to dusky death," false pretences? There is, however, no obligation on the part by the last fading beams of the suns of Madrid, of Almeida, of the newspaper. The obligation lies entirely on the other
and of Elba. side. The newspaper can do without the theatre, but the theatre could not maintain itself without the newspaper.
In the year of his own birth and the month of May, his The managers, however, object to unfavourable criticisms. Conqueror, the Duke of Wellington, first drew breath. They are well enough satisfied with the good report, but they In 1799, May 4. He lost Seringa patam. 21. He was dedo not like to take chance for the evil. There is the whole
defeated at Acre. secret ; and the soreness they betray where the shoe pinches 1804, May 18. He assumed the title of Emperor of France. in reality proves the importance they attach to criticism, even This was perhaps his worst political step. of the poorest order. Why should a magager be so very angry 1808, May 2. After massacring the Spaniards at Madrid
, at (ccasional severities, if he did not feel the weight of their
he appointed his brother Joseph King of Spain. influence? Mr. Morris, of the Haymarket, withdrew his order in a pet
5. He issued his mandate to the Queen of Spain from an evening paper, because it published a critique, the only
to declare her son illegitimate. fault of which, in our estimation was, that it was too lenient. 1809, May 12. His troops in Portugal, under Sonlt, were But how did that affect its tranquillity or reputation ? Strange
defeated by Sir Arthur Wellesley.
22. He was as it may appear, this paper is still alive and flourishing. Other defeated by the Archduke Charles. papers bave been similarly excluded from other houses, on 1811, May 5. His army, under Massena, was repulsed at similar grounds; and a few weeks ago the Athenæum was for
Almeida, 16. His troops, under Soult, were de bidden the squeezing place at Drury Lane because its criticismus
feated at Albuera. were ill-natured, and because the gentleman who was known 1812, May 19. The French forces were defeated at Alas its theatrical critic was said to have been heard to hiss a new opera. Upon the latter charge rather than the former, however, the manager finally rested his decision; yet, although 1813, May. The like in Saxony, Lutzen. The 20th, at
Bautzen. the gentleman distinctiy denied the assertion and challenged
And the 31st, at Wurtschen. proofs, it does not appear that the decision has been reversed. 1814, May 5. He was landed at Elba. A gentleman who is understood to have at his control 80 1815, May. During his reign of 100 days he was preparpowersul a medium for the expression of his opinion as the ing for his final overthrow on the 18th of Jnge at press,'ought not to hiss in a theatre. It is indecorous and in
EFFECTS OF SLOVENLINESS.
had not been the constant habit of my life. It has cost COBBETT.
many thousands of pounds less to print from my manu! In my English Grammar, I earnestly exhorted my Son, script, than it would have cost to print from the manuscript always to write in a plain
hand ; because if what you write of almost any other man. Then, again, as to time ; huncannot be understood, you write in vain ; and, if the mean- dreds upon hundreds of articles written by me, could not ing be picked out that is to say, come at with difficulty have been printed soon enough, if they had been in manuthere is a waste of time; and time is property, and, indeed,
script like that of writers in general. Habit has made me a part of life itself. The other day, when I first advertis write fast and plain at the same time; and every man will ed my Trees for sale, I besought gentlemen to write to me have the same habít, if he resolutely persevere in writing in a plain hand ; to write the dates and signatures in a plain. To write plain is the great thing ; writing fast plain hand, at any rate. Here was an affair of proper comes of itself. names, both of persons and places ; and there was to be a THE Moving POWERS.—When Voltaire said, that “a real proceeding of some consequence to be produced by each man banged is good for nothing," this wise aphorism might letter. In such a case, not to write in a plain hand, was, be very true in his day, but in this country, we have lived in effect, voluntarily to incur the risk, and the manifest risk, to see many changes, which controvert tbe dicta of philo. of not receiving that which was written for. Nevertheless, sophers, and confound even the wisdom of Solomon himI received some letters which lay unanswered for a good self. A dead, or hanged man, at this day, becomes at once, while, owing to the bad hand writing. One I could by no a good subject," not for the King, but the modern Chimeans make out. The name of the writer was plain rons, who mutilate poor mortality when alive, with so enough; but the word which was written as the name of much facility and skill, but value it most, when they can the place was, according to the reading of ten different mangle it in death, for the relief of the living. “A hanged persons, Lancern. We h unted Gazetteer, Book of Roads, man” now, what his proportions, his defects, or even his and at last came to the conclusion, that it must be some crimes, is worth L.14, or L.15. Very few living subjects, place in Ireland. Very little of this hunting would have however honest, and proper men, would fetch half that taken place, had not the letter contained some Bank Notes. sum.-[Voltaire is right again. The value or a hanged However, in spite of all our efforts to discover what Lan man is again, by the operation of the Anatomy Bill, next cern meant, we were obliged to give the thing up, and to to nothing.) pocket the Bank Notes for our trouble. Yesterday, how. Oxalis CRENATA ; AN IMPROVEMENT ON THE POTATOE. ever, comes, by the two-penny post, a little blotted note, - This plant bas lately been introduced into this country from S. with a signature to it, which appears to be the name of a America, and is likely to be extensively cultivated, as decidedly post-master ; this note begins, by saying, “Sir, Mr
preferable to the common potato. A root was brought over, in of Lancing, Sussex.” And then the note goes on to say, few small tubers were exhibited in the Lionæan Society. One of
1830, by Mr. David Douglas, and planted by Mr. Lambert. A that this Mr
- wrote to me some time ago, enclosing these was planted by Mrs. Hirst, in the garden of Great Roper's a sum of money, and it concludes thus : “the money was put into our box.". The devil of any date was there to
Hall, near Brentwood, and has succeeded remarkably well. It this note. But the words our box,ʻi discovered that the month of May the pot was placed in the flower garden, and
was first put into a small pot in the end of April, and in the writer was a post-master. By the sum of money, I knew broken, and the parts removed. This precaution appears to that this Lancing was the very Lancern that had so plagued have been unnecessary, for it has stood the frost remarkably and puzzled us. But, upon again hunting through well, and on the 5th of this month, when it was dug up, the Gazetteer, Book of Roads, Book of Fairs, &c. &c. we can leaves were green. The root planted was about half an ounce find no such place as Lancing. Happily, however, we had in weight, and the roots produced were about ninety in numgot the County of Sussex. That word, with two s’s in the ber, in a space not exceeding nine inches in diameter and six middle, and an x at the end, made us know what county pounds. A few of the roots were boiled, and, when eaten,
inches deep. The aggregate weight was upwards of four we had got into, at any rate. We then took the Book of Roads, and went to the towns on the cross roads, under the mitted by all the party to have a more agreeable favour. Such
were found to resemble the potato, but were unanimously ad. letter L, stopping to read every word opposite the word
a result is very promising, and when we consider that the comSussex We soon came to the word Launcing! The Gen- mon potato (Solanum Tuberosum) was, for a bundred years, tleman wished to have some Apple-trées, which he can get confined to gardens, and that its roots were for a long time not have, by mere accident; but nothing like so fine as those larger than beans, and were watery, we may reasonably expect would have been which he would have had, if his letter that cultivation may do much to enlarge the size of the had been dated in a plain manner. I give this as a prac
roots of the Oxalis, and perhaps improve the flavour beyond tical illustration of the mischievous consequences of sloven- what it is at present. It has a line yellow flower, and is ornaliness in writing. But, there is another thing to be well mental in the garden. The time of flowering is August. considered; and that is , that nobody pays so much atten. be particularly useful in the manufacture of bread, by promot
Uses of Thk Potato-SALUBRITY.-Potatoes appear to tion to a slovenly as to a neat and plain
piece of writing. It ing the fermentation of the dough. To effect this they may be is an invariable rule with me to fling into the fire at once introduced among the four, after being boiled to a mealy state ; any blurred or dirty letter that I receive, and every letter but the best method is to employ them
as a ferment. For two that is written across the writing, let such letter come pecks of four take from 3 Ib. to 4 lb. of mealy potatoes, the from whom it may. People that write in this manner are former quantity will be enough, if it be preferred. Boil ibem idle people. What they put upon paper is unworthy of till they will pulp readily through a colander, and when lukeoccupying the time of any persons not like themselves. warm add to the pulp one-fourth of the barm (yeast) which This seems, at first sight, to be a very trifling matter; should be brought to the consistence of thia paste by addition of
would have been used without potatoes. The pulp, if too dry, but if we duly reflect on it, we shall find it a matter of considerable importance. At any rate, as I am certain that i milkwarm water, and a table spoonful or two of moist sugar never in my lifetime sent a slovenly scrawl to any person plate or cloth, and let it stand near the fire till a strong frothy
or honey will promote the process ; cover the mixture with a whatever, I beseech them who do me the honour to write head arises. This potato yeast should be blended with about a to me, to write in a hand that will not compel me to twelfth or sixteenth part of the flour, to work as 'sponge' in waste my time, and expose me to the risk of appearing to be the centre of the mass, in order to secure the fermentation of guilty of negligence or ill-manners. 'To young men I would the whole Some bakers, I have been credibly informed, have observe, that slovenliness is no mark of gentility; that amongst given two guineas for a receipt to prepare potato yeast; and is their inost valuable possessions is their time ; and I beg them
is considered so effectual in promoting fermentation, that the to consider how large a portion of their time is consumed in misfortune of a "sad" (heavy) batch is seldom incurred when deciphering even their own bad writing. The hand-writ- it is used. It is said by some who ought to know the fact, that ing is, with me; a great thing. I cannot believe that sloven- shades whiter ip colour, and of much better texture, than when
bread, worked with a due proportion of potatoes, is at least two liness of hand-writing can exist without a general sloven- it is wrought with the yeast of beer only; to which it may be liness in the conducting of affairs. Of this, at any rate, 1 added, that the bitter taste frequently communicated by sach am certain ; and that is, that I never should have done a yeast is wholly obviated, and the ferment can be employed liquarter part of what I have done, is to write a plain hand 'berally, with almost certainty of a corresponding good resul
COLUMN FOR THE LADIES.
CALL woman-angel-goddess-what you will!
With all that fancy breathes at passion's call,
With all that rapture fondly raves, and still “ A Psyco-logical curiosity."-D’Israeli, Jun.
That one word, wife, outvies, contains them all!
It is a word of music, which can fill The above-quoted authority proves that the Coquette is of the butterfly species, for, when deprived of its ephe
The soul with melody, when sorrows fall
Round us like darkness, and her heart alone meral blandishments, it appears in its pristine deformity.
Is all that fate has left to call our own. The insect is of Freuch origin, and although abundant quantities of the animal exist in this country, retains its Her bosom is a fount of love that swells, Gallic cognomen. The only literal translation of its name Widens, and deepens with its own outpouring ; into English is rendered in the word “ Man-trap."
And like a desert spring, for ever wells The edncation of the Coquette is usually derived from Around her hnsband's heart, when caref devouring boarding-schools, and its sentiment from song-books. It Dry up its very blood, and man rebels' learns precepts of morality from novels, and examples of Against his being !_When despair is lowering, virtue from waiting-maids; and the only evidence it shows And ills sweep round him, like an angry river, of possessing the power of reasoning is the ingenuity with She is his star, his rock of hope for ever. which it special-pleads out of broken vows. If it have a
Yea, woman only knows what 'tis to mour, heart, that is like the Public Ledger, “ open to all parties
She only feels how slow the moments glide, and influenced by none."
Ere those her young heart loved in joy return, At Church it ogles under smart bonnets, and attracts ge
And breathe affection, smiling by her side. neral attention from its gaudy attire, while, at the theatre,
Hers only are the tears that waste and burnit becomes the focus of every opera glass, on account of its
The anxious watchings and affection's tide levity.
That never, never ebbs !_hers are the cares This insect is carnivorous, feeding upon the human
No ear hath heard, and which no bosom shares. heart as spiders do upon flies. It spreads the net of insinuation and encouragement, inveigles its victim into the Cares like her spirit, delicate as light web, and makes a boast and glory of the agonies it may Trembling at early dawn from morning stars.
Cares—all unknown to feeling and to sight Its ideas are singularly confused about the monosylla Of rougher man, whose stormy bosom wars bles - Ycs,” and “ No," frequently substituting the one for With every passion in its fiery might, the other, so that it loses all chances of matrimony, and it Nor deems how look unkind, or absence, jars is to be anticipated that to this fact and the general con Affection's silver chords by woman wove, tempt into which the race is gradually falling, the Coquette Whose soul, whose business, and whose life is loro. population will decrease in a Malthusian ratio.
J. M. W. Maids and Widows; if you wish to arrive at that “con
[These verses are taken from a neat volume published at summation devoutly to be wished,” good husbands, eschew Haddington, entitled, AUTUMN LEAVES, and full of pleas. coquetry; and ye, O! Wives, who have already got them, ing tales, sketches, and verses ] be tot Coquettes lest they flee from ye ! HINTS FOR WIVES.--Obedience is a very small part of
Why, why, are the Irish a rebellions people? This is a ques
tion that must be solved by the Episcopacy of that devoted conjugial duty, and, in most cases easily performed. Much Country. Why, why, is the produce of the English farmer eof the comfort of the married life depends upon the lady ; duced in value? Let the annexed statement show; let it she a great deal more, perhaps, than she is aware of. She maintain the luxuries of Absentee Landlords, the poor Irish
that, to support the Irish Established Church, as well as to scarcely knows her own influence; how much she may do producer is obliged to force a sale in this country, by underseling by persuasion—how much by sympathy-how much by the English farmer. unremitted kindness and little attentions. To acquire and An Account of Wheat, Barley, 1 An Account of Wheat, Barler
Oats and Flour, imported retain such influence, she must, however, make her conju
Dats, and Flour, imported
from Foreign Ports, within from Ireland, in the same gal duties
first object. She must not think that any ten years, from 1821 to1830; period : thing will do for her husband--that any wine is good
both inclusive. enough for her husband that it is not worth while to be
5,073,429 Wheat agrecable when there is only her husband--that she may Barley
1.558,407 Barley close her piano, or lay aside her brush, for why should she Oats
5,212 509 Oats play or paint merely to amuse her husband? No, she
Total...... 11,844,345 Ireland must consider all these little arts of pleasing chiefly valua. Cots. of Flour...... 1,921,066 The World ble on his account as means of perpetuating her attractions, and giving permanence to his affection She must remember that her duty consists not so much in great and solitary
Ireland, acts—in displays of sublime virtues to which she will only
Cwts. of Flour be occasionally called; but in trifles-in a cheerful smile,
The World or a minnte attention naturally rendered, and proceeding, from a heart full of kindnes, and a temper full of amiabi- Par "Britain and ten years, 4 356,811 quarters of coronel
By which it appears, that starving Ireland has exported to lity.--Mrs. Sandfurd's Women in her Social and Domes. 2,187.701 cists of flour, more than all the other ports of the tie (harucior.
world !!!!!-- Mark Lane Express,
781,037 12,020,256 16,901,156 .11,814,845
4,158, 767 1,921,006
THE STORY TELLER.
He then raised his wife tenderly, for she had been com
pelled to sit from weakness, and they bent their steps to a TUBBER DERG, OR THE RED WELL.
decent farm-house, that stood a few perches off the road, ( Concluded from last Number.)
about a quarter of a mile before them. THE misfortunes of Owen and his family were not the As they approached the door, the husband hesitated a consequences of negligence or misconduct on their own part. moment; his face got paler than usual, and his lip quiverThey struggled long but unavailingly against high rents ed, as he said“ Kathleen—" and low markets ; against neglect on the part of the land
“I know what you're goin' to say, Owen. No, acushla, lord and his agent; against sickness, famine, and death. you won't ; I'll ax it myself.” They had no alternative but to beg or starve. Owen was “ Do," said Owen, with difficulty; “ I can't do it; but willing to work, but he could not procure employment, and I'll overcome my pride afore long, I hope. It's thryin' to provided he could, the miserable sum of sixpence a-day, me, Kathleen, an' you know it is for you know how little when food was scarce and dear, would not support him, his I ever expected to be brought to this.” wife, and six little ones, He became a pauper, therefore, Husht, avillish! We'll thry, then, in the name of only to avoid starvation.
God." Heavy and black was his heart, to use the strong expression As she spoke, the children, herself, and her husband, enof the people, on the bitter morning when he set out to en. tered, to beg for the first time in their lives a morsel of counter the dismal task of seeking alms in order to keep life food. Yes ! timidly-with a blush of shame, red even to in himself and his family. The plan was devised on the crimson, upon the pallid features of Kathleen-with grief preceding night; but to no mortal, except his wife, was it acute and piercing—they entered the house together. communicated. The honest pride of a man whose mind For some minutes they stood and spoke not. The unwas above committing a mean action, would not permit happy woman, unaccustomed to the language of suppliciihim to reveal what he considered the first stain that ever tion, scarcely knew in what terms to crave assistance. was known to rest upon the name of M'Carthy. He there. Owen, himself, stood back, uncovered, his fine but much fore sallied out under the beating of the storm, and pro- changed features overcast with an expression of deep amicceeded, without caring much whither he went, until he got tion. Kathleen cast a single glance at him as if for encourconsiderably beyond the bounds of his own parish. agement. Their eyes met ; she saw the upright man—the
In the meantime hunger pressed keenly upon him and last remnant of the M‘Carthy_himself once the friend of them. The day had no appearance of clearing up ; the the poor, of the unhappy, of the afilicted -standing crushed heavy rain and sleet beat into their thin, worn garments, and broken down by misfortunes which he had not deservand the clamour of his children for food, began to grow ed, waiting with patience for a morsel of charity. Owen, more and more importunate. They came to the shelter of a too, had his remembrances. He recollected the days when he hedge which enclosed on one side a remote and broken road, sought and gained the pure and fond affections of his Kathalong which, in order to avoid the risk of being recognised, leen; when beauty, and youth, and innocence encircled her they had preferred travelling. Owen stood here for a few mi- with their light and their grace, as she spoke or moved; he nutes to consult with his wife, as to where and when they saw her a happy wife and mother in her own home, kind and should “ make a beginning ;" but on looking round, he benevolent to all who required her good word or her good found her in tears.
office; and now she was homeless. He remembered, too, “ Kathleen, asthore,” said Owen, “ I can't bid you not how she used to plead with himself for the afflicted. It was to cry ; bear up, acushla machree; bear up : sure, as I said but a moment; yet when their eyes met, that moment was when we came out this mornin', there's a good God above crowded by remembrances that flashed across their minds us, that can still turn over the good lafe for us, if we put with a keen sense of a lot so bitter and wretched as theirs our hopes in him."
Kathleen could not speak, although she tried ; her sobs deu Owen,” said his sinking wife; “ it's not altogether be- nied her utterance; and Owen involuntarily sat upon a kase we'er brought to this, that I'm cryin. No indeed."
chair, and covered his face with his hand. « Thin, what ails you, Kathleen, darlin ?”
To an observing eye, it is never difficult to detect the cant The wife hesitated, and evaded the question for some
of imposture, or to perceive distress when it is real. The time; but at lengti, upon his presssng her for an answer, good woman of the house, as is usual in Ireland, was in the with a fresh gush'of sorrow, she replied, “Owen, since you must know—och, may God pity us! - ful of meal—that is what the Scotch and northern Irish
act of approaching them, unsolicited, with a double handsince you must know, its wid hunger-wid hunger ! I
call a gowpen—or as much as both hands locked together kept unknownst, a little bit of bread to give the childre this
can contain—when, noticing their distress, she pauscd a mornin', an' that was part of it I gave you yesterday early -I'm near two days fastin."
moment, eyed them more closely, and exclaimedKathleen! Kathleen ! Och ! sure I know your worth, avil
“What's this? Why there's something wrong wid you, lish. You were too good a wife, an’too good a mother, amost! good people! But first an' foremost take this, in the name
an' honour of God." God forgive me, Kathleen! I fretted about beggin', dear;
“ May the blessin' of the same. Man* rest upon yees !" but as my Heavenly Father's above me, I'm now happier to beg wid you by my side, nor if I war in the best house in replied Kathleen.“ This is a sorrowful thrial to us; for
it's our first day to be upon the world ; an' this is the first the province widout yon! Jould up, avourneer, for a
help of the kind we ever axed for, or ever got ; an' indeed while. Come on, childhre, darlins, an' the first house we
now I find we haven't even a place to carry it in. I've no meet we'll ax their char-, their assistance. Come on,
b_b-cloch, or any thing to hould it." darlins, all of yees. Why, my heart's asier, so it is. Sure we have your mother, childhre, safe wid ns, an' what signi
God is sometimes thus termed in Ireland. By "Man” here is meant
person or being. He is also called the " Man above," although this fies any thing so long as she's left to us."
Dust have been intended for, and often is applied, to Christ only.
“ Your first, is it?" said the good woman. “ Your first ! | What woman 'ud put up wid you but myself, you shkam. May the marciful Queen o' Heaven look down upon yees, in' Alipe? It wasn't to give me your bad tongue I hired but it's a bitther day yees war driven out on! Sit down, you, but to do your business; an' be the crass above us, if there, you poor crathur. God pity you, I pray this day, you turn your tongue on me again, I'll give you the weight for you have a heart-broken look! Sit down awhile, near
o the churnstaff. Is it bekase they're poor people that it the fire, you au' the childre! Och, Oh ! but it's a thousand plased God to bring to this, that you turn up your nose at pities to see sich fine childre—handsome an good lookin', doin' any thing to sarve thein ? There's not wather enough even as they are, brought to this ! Come over, good man; there, I say-put in more. What siguifies all the stirget near the fire, for ye'er wet an' could all of yees. Brian, about that 'ud make? Put plinty in ; it's better always !! ludher them two lazy thieves o' dogs out o' that. Eires suas, have too much than too little. Faix, I tell you, you'll a wadhee bradadh, agus go mah a shin !-be off wid yees, want a male's meat an' a night's lodgin afore you die, il ye lazy divil that's not worth you feedin'! Come over, ho. you don't mend your manners.' nest man."
“Och, musha, the poor girl is doin' her best," observal Owen and his family were placed near the fire ; the poor Kathleen ; «an' I'm sure she wouldn't be guilty of usno man's heart was full, and he sighed heavily.
pride to the likes of us, or to any one that the Lord has “ May he that it plased to thry us,” he exclaimed, laid his hand upon.” « reward you for this! We are,” he continued, “a poor
“ She had better not, while I'm to the fore," said her mais an'a sufferin' family'; but it's the will of God that we
“ What is she herself? Sure if it was a siu to ba should be so, an' sure we can't complain widout committin' sin. All we ax now is, that it may be plasin” to Him that poor, God help the world. No; it's neither a sin-nofs
shame.” brought us low, to enable us to bear up undher our thrials, We would take it to our choice to beg and be honest, sooner
« Thanks be to God, no," said Owen ; " it's neither the nor to be wealthy an' wicked! We have our failins an'
one nor the other. So long as we keep a fair name, ano a our sins, God help us ; but still there's nothin' dark or clear conscience, we can't ever say that our case is hard." heavy on our consciences. Glory be to the name o' God
After some farther conversation, a comfortable breakfast for it.
avas prepared for them, of which they pártook with an ap“Throth, I believe you," replied the farmer's wife ; petite sharpened by their long abstinence from food. Their " there's thruth an' honesty in your face; one may easily stay here was particularly fortunate, for ag they were ctrsee the remains of dacency about yees all. Musha, throw tain of a cordial welcome, and an abundance of that which your little things aside, an' stay where yees are to.day: they much wanted-wholesome food—the pressure" of isyou can't bring out the childhre undher the teem of rain mediate distress was removed. They had time to think and sleet that's in it. Wurrah dheelish, but it's the bitther more accurately upon the little preparations for misery day all out! Paix, Paddy will get a dhrookin, so he will, which were necessary, and as the day's leisure was at their at that weary fair wid the stirks, poor bouchal—a son of disposal, Kathleen's needle and scissars were industriously ours that's gone to Ballyboulteen to sell some cattle, an' plied in mending the tattered clothes of her husband and he'll not be worth three hapuns afore he comes back. I her children, in order to meet the inclemency of the weahope he'll have sinse to go into some house, when he's done, ther. an' dhry himself well, any how, besides takin' somethin' to After being kindly entertained in this hospitable" place, keep out the could. Put by your things, an' don't think the new-made paupers resumed their march. of goin' out sich a day.”
It is not our intention to trace Owen M«Carthy and his “We thank you," replied Owen. “ Indeed we're glad wife through all the variety which a wandering, panper's to stay undher your roof; for, poor things, they're badly life affords. He never could reconcile himself to the habits able to thravel sich a day—these childhre."
of a mendicant. His honest pride and integrity of heart “ Musha, yees ate no breakfast, maybe ?"
raised him above it ; neither did he sink into the whine "Owen and his family were silent. The children looked and cant of imposture, nor the slang of knavery. No; wistfully at their parents, anxious that they should confirm there was a touch of manly sorrow about him, which mei
. what the good woman surmised; the father looked again at his famished brood and his sinking wife, and nature over
ther time, nor familiarity with his degraded mode of life,
could take away from him. came him. “ Food did not crass our lips this day,” replied Owen ; terness, was—« Kathleen, darlin', it's thrue we have enough
wife, and he never made it without a pang of intense bita “an' I may say hardly any thing yesterday.” “Oh, blessed Mother! Here, Katty Murray, drop scrub-To a man like him it was a thought of surpassing bitter
to ate an’ to dhrink ; but we have no home !--home?" bin' that dresser, an' put down the midlin' pot for stirabout. Be livin' manim an diouol, woman alive, handle
ness, indeed. yourself ; you might a had it boilin' by this. God presarve poorest shed that could be built, provided it was our arms
“Ah! Kathleen,” he would observe, “if we had but the us !—to be two days widout atin! Be the crass, Katty, i you're not alive, I'll give you a douse o' the churnstaff doesn't do us good.
wouldn't we be happy? The bread we ate, ayourneeil
, that'll bring the fire to your eyes! Do you hear me ?”.
We don't work for it; it's the bread “ I do hear you, an' did often feel you, too, for fraid hear
of shame and idleness ; and yet it's Owen M'Carthy that in' wouldn't do. You think there is no place in the world
ates it! But, avourneen, that's past ; an' we'll never see but your own, I b'lieve. Faix, indeed! Its well come up
our own home, or our own hearth agin. That's what's wid us, to be randied about wid no less a switch than a
cuttin' into my heart, Kathleen. Never !--never!" churnstaff!"
Many a trial, too, of another kind was his patience call
ed upon to sustain; particularly from the wealthy and the “Is it givin' back talk you are? Bad end to me, if you look cracked but I'll lave you a mark to remimber me by. led him to solicit their assistance.
more elevated in life, when his inexperience as a mendicaut
His usual observation to his