been often deceived, often insulted, and often ridiculed. It was natural for them, therefore, to be rather jealous, not to be too ready to place confidence in strangers; and perhaps, occasionally to devise schemes of retaliation. But they have always been sufficiently faithful and steady when confidence has been reposed in them; and they have been singularly kind, and warm-hearted, and faithful, to any one whom they had reason to consider as their friend. For my own part, I have travelled through the greatest part of Ulster, Munster, and Connaught, often in the most retired vallies, and surrounded by people who had not one word of English; when I spoke to them in their own language, they received me with a frankness and hospitality, which assured me of their good will, and removed all doubts as to personal safety. How ardently did I then wish that it were in my power to remove the prejudices that have been entertained against a people so kind and simple hearted!

From fidelity to friends, the transition is easy to hospitality. The hospitality of the Irish, like that of the Scottish highlanders, is proverbial; and never surely has a stranger visited the neighbouring isle, without having had satisfactory proofs of it. The poor labourer, who has only potatoes for himself and his chil

7

dren, will give the best in his pot to the guest, from whatever quarter he may come he bestows his simple fare with a kindness that has often delighted me. Unlike the peasants of some other countries, who frown at the wandering intruder, he seems to feel a real pleasure in giving food to the hungry; he gives the hearty welcome of his country to all who approach his humble cot,―ceud mile failte duit.* At first I thought that this might be the form of salutation, on extraordinary occasions; but when I found that man, woman, and child, shouted ceud mile failte duit, to every visitant, and even to every beggar, I felt rather astonished.

*

The rites of hospitality among the Irish, as among all the Celtic tribes, as well as among all ancient nations, are deemed sacred. The stranger is treated on all occasions with the utmost attention and respect, with a courtesy and politeness which more elevated society consider as belonging exclusively to themselves. And I must remark, that even the lower order of the original Irish, especially in sequestered situations, are much more distinguished for their attention to strangers than the same order of the Anglo-Hibernians. Among the former, the disposition to oblige, becomes rather officious when I asked for the road in their own A hundred thousand welcomes.

;

*

language, I was escorted perhaps for a mile or two, lest I should go astray; when I made any inquiry of the latter, if any answer was given, it was sometimes ambiguous, and often not very respectful; I was the more struck with this circumstance, as I have never heard it mentioned by any traveller.

It was deemed infamous among this people, either for the host or the guest to give any information to an enemy of one another. The mutual participation of the feast was by them deemed as the pledge of friendship and of honour: so sacred was this tie considered, that when two gallant youths, of the house of Tirconnel, entered as spies into the hostile camp of a neighbouring chief, and were invited by the guards to share their supper, they cour+ teously declined. "To accept this invitation, "was to form a friendship with these men not "to be violated; which should prevent them "from giving any intelligence, or, if discovered, would have rendered their intelligence suspected."

66

Before concluding this chapter, I must advert to that susceptibility of gratitude and resentment, so observable in the Irish. They are rather prone to extremes in their prepossessions, or their antipathies, their love or their hatred. They have no idea of the heartless neutrality of

indifference, of the frigid torpor of insensibility; and it is with difficulty, they can maintain that equanimity of mind, which accords with the happy medium of moderation. They are ardent and high spirited; and though not so proud as Highlanders, they have got all their impetuosity. No people in the world can be made better friends, and it is not easy to conceive of worse enemies. They have got some vanity, and they may be flattered; they possess warm affections, and they may very easily be secured; but they have a degree of resentment that will not suffer them with impunity to be injured or insulted. This character appears to me extremely valuable, since it may be turned to the best account: little can be done in improving a people dull and stupid; but much may be accomplished with those who are alive to every impression, who are acute, and generous, and ardent.

After all, the character which I have been delineating must be allowed to have many faults. These, however, should, I think, be ascribed to the moral and political circumstances in which the Irish have been placed. The constituent parts of this character are certainly good; and if under proper direction, would undoubtedly produce the happiest results. That blundering precipitancy which is always con

nected with it, does not appear to me to be originally a component part. The same habit of making what has been called bulls, has been attributed to the Highlanders, though in a less degree. And it is certain, that owing to the dry humour which many of them possess, and their ignorance of the English tongue, they do commit blunders of the most ludicrous nature. The old Irish possess to a much greater extent the same vein of humour, and are equally awkward in speaking the imported dialect. They would naturally, therefore, fall into many blunders, and the habit when once formed so as to become national, was likely enough to be continued. I was confirmed in this opinion when I found, that a native Irishman commits no more blunders than his neighbours, when he speaks in the language which he perfectly understands. His humour, however, in any language, is always inexhaustible, and his "blunders are never blunders of the heart."

The Irish is so very idiomatic, and possesses so little in common with the other languages of modern Europe, except the Celtic, and at the same time so very figurative, that it is difficult for any one who thinks in it not to make bulls. It is partly on this account that an unlettered Irishman speaks in glowing and metaphorical diction. It is impossible for him to separate