The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 30, January 23, 1841, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 30, January 23, 1841 Author: Various Release Date: May 12, 2017 [EBook #54712] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH PENNY JOURNAL, JAN 23, 1841 *** Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by JSTOR www.jstor.org) THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL. NUMBER 30. SATURDAY, JANUARY 23, 1841. VOLUME I. Monea Castle THE CASTLE OF MONEA, COUNTY OF FERMANAGH. THE CASTLE OF MONEA OR CASTLETOWN-MONEA—PROPERLY Magh an fhiaidh, I.E. THE PLAIN OF THE DEER—IS SITUATED IN THE PARISH OF DEVINISH, COUNTY OF FERMANAGH, AND ABOUT FIVE MILES NORTH-WEST OF ENNISKILLEN. LIKE THE CASTLE OF TULLY, IN THE SAME COUNTY, OF WHICH WE GAVE A VIEW IN A RECENT NUMBER, THIS CASTLE AFFORDS A GOOD EXAMPLE OF THE CLASS OF CASTELLATED RESIDENCES ERECTED ON THE GREAT PLANTATION OF ULSTER BY THE BRITISH AND SCOTTISH UNDERTAKERS, IN OBEDIENCE TO THE FOURTH ARTICLE CONCERNING THE ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH UNDERTAKERS, WHO “ARE TO PLANT THEIR PORTIONS WITH ENGLISH AND INLAND-SCOTTISH TENANTS,” WHICH WAS IMPOSED UPON THEM BY “THE ORDERS AND CONDITIONS TO BE OBSERVED BY THE UNDERTAKERS UPON THE DISTRIBUTION AND PLANTATION OF THE ESCHEATED LANDS IN ULSTER,” IN 1608. BY THIS ARTICLE IT WAS PROVIDED THAT “EVERY [Pg 233] UNDERTAKER OF THE greatest proportion OF TWO THOUSAND ACRES SHALL, WITHIN TWO YEARS AFTER THE DATE OF HIS LETTERS PATENT, BUILD THEREUPON A CASTLE, WITH A STRONG COURT OR BAWN ABOUT IT; AND EVERY UNDERTAKER OF THE SECOND OR middle proportion OF FIFTEEN HUNDRED ACRES SHALL WITHIN THE SAME TIME BUILD A STONE OR BRICK HOUSE THEREUPON, WITH A STRONG COURT OR BAWN ABOUT IT. AND EVERY UNDERTAKER OF THE least proportion OF ONE THOUSAND ACRES SHALL WITHIN THE SAME TIME MAKE THEREUPON A STRONG COURT OR BAWN AT LEAST; AND ALL THE SAID UNDERTAKERS SHALL CAUSE THEIR TENANTS TO BUILD HOUSES FOR themselves and their families, near the principal castle, house, or bawn, for their mutual defence or strength,” &c. SUCH WAS THE ORIGIN OF MOST OF THE CASTLES AND VILLAGES NOW EXISTING IN THE SIX ESCHEATED COUNTIES OF ULSTER—HISTORICAL MEMORIALS OF A VAST POLITICAL MOVEMENT—AND AMONG THE REST THIS OF MONEA, WHICH WAS THE CASTLE OF THE middle proportion of Dirrinefogher, of which Sir Robert Hamilton was the first patentee. FROM PYNNAR’S SURVEY OF ULSTER, MADE IN 1618-19, IT APPEARS THAT THIS PROPORTION HAD AT THAT TIME PASSED INTO THE POSSESSION OF MALCOLM HAMILTON (WHO WAS AFTERWARDS ARCHBISHOP OF CASHEL), BY WHOM THE CASTLE WAS ERECTED, THOUGH the bawn, as prescribed by the conditions, was not added till some years later. He says, “UPON THIS PROPORTION THERE IS A STRONG CASTLE OF LIME AND STONE, BEING FIFTY-FOUR FEET LONG AND TWENTY FEET BROAD, BUT HATH NO BAWN UNTO IT, NOR ANY OTHER DEFENCE FOR THE SUCCOURING OR relieving of his tenants.” FROM AN INQUISITION TAKEN AT MONEA IN 1630, WE FIND, HOWEVER, THAT THIS WANT WAS SOON AFTER SUPPLIED, AND THAT THE castle, which was fifty feet in height, was surrounded by a wall nine feet in height and three hundred in circuit. THE MALCOLM HAMILTON NOTICED BY PYNNAR AS POSSESSOR OF “THE MIDDLE PROPORTION OF DIRRINEFOGHER,” SUBSEQUENTLY HELD THE RECTORY OF DEVENISH, WHICH HE RETAINED in commendam WITH HIS ARCHBISHOPRIC TILL HIS DEATH IN 1629. THE PROPORTION OF DIRRINEFOGHER, HOWEVER, WITH ITS CASTLE, WAS ESCHEATED TO THE CROWN IN 1630; AND SHORTLY AFTER, THE OLD CHAPEL OF Monea was converted into a parish church, the original church being inconveniently situated on an island of Lough Erne. MONEA CASTLE SERVED AS A CHIEF PLACE OF REFUGE TO THE ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH SETTLERS OF THE VICINITY DURING THE REBELLION OF 1641, AND, LIKE THE CASTLE OF TULLY, IT HAS ITS TALES OF HORROR RECORDED IN STORY; BUT WE SHALL NOT USELESSLY DRAG THEM TO LIGHT. THE VILLAGE OF MONEA IS AN INCONSIDERABLE ONE, BUT THERE ARE SEVERAL GENTLEMEN’S SEATS IN ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD, AND the scenery around it is of great richness and beauty. P. ON THE SUBJUGATION OF ANIMALS BY MEANS OF CHARMS, INCANTATIONS, OR DRUGS. FIRST ARTICLE. ON SERPENT-CHARMING, AS PRACTISED BY THE JUGGLERS OF ASIA. MANY OF MY READERS WILL DOUBTLESS RECOLLECT THAT IN A PAPER ON “ANIMAL TAMING,” WHICH APPEARED SOME WEEKS BACK IN THE PAGES OF THIS JOURNAL, I ALLUDED SLIGHTLY TO THE charming OF ANIMALS, OR taming THEM BY SPELLS OR DRUGS. IT IS NOW MY PURPOSE TO ENTER MORE FULLY UPON THIS SUBJECT, AND PRESENT MY READERS WITH A BRIEF NOTICE OF WHAT I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO GLEAN RESPECTING IT, AS WELL FROM THE PUBLISHED ACCOUNTS OF REMARKABLE TRAVELLERS, AS FROM ORAL DESCRIPTIONS RECEIVED FROM personal friends of my own, who had opportunities of being eye witnesses to many of the practices to which I refer. THE MOST REMARKABLE, AND ALSO THE MOST ANCIENT DESCRIPTION OF ANIMAL-CHARMING WITH WHICH WE ARE ACQUAINTED, IS THAT WHICH CONSISTS IN CALLING THE VENOMOUS SERPENTS FROM THEIR HOLES, QUELLING THEIR FURY, AND ALLAYING THEIR IRRITATION, BY MEANS OF CERTAIN CHARMS, AMONGST WHICH MUSIC STANDS FORTH IN THE MOST PROMINENT POSITION, THOUGH, WHETHER IT REALLY IS WORTHY OF THE FIRST PLACE AS AN ACTUAL AGENT, OR IS ONLY THUS PUT FORWARD TO COVER THAT ON WHICH THE TRUE SECRET DEPENDS, IS BY NO means perfectly clear. EVEN IN SCRIPTURE WE FIND THE PRACTICE OF SERPENT-CHARMING NOTICED, AND BY NO MEANS AS A NOVELTY; IN THE 58TH PSALM WE ARE TOLD THAT THE WICKED ARE LIKE THE “DEAF ADDER THAT STOPPETH HER EAR, WHICH HEARKENETH NOT UNTO THE VOICE OF THE CHARMER, CHARM HE NEVER SO WISELY!” AND IN THE BOOK OF JEREMIAH, CHAP. VIII, THE DISOBEDIENT PEOPLE ARE THUS THREATENED —“BEHOLD, I WILL SEND SERPENTS, COCKATRICES, AMONG YOU, WHICH WILL NOT BE charmed.” THESE ARE TWO VERY REMARKABLE PASSAGES, AND I THINK WE MAY, WITHOUT GOING TOO FAR, SET DOWN AS SNAKE-CHARMERS THE EGYPTIAN MAGI WHO CONTENDED against Moses and Aaron before the court of the proud and vacillating Pharaoh, striving to imitate by their juggling tricks THE WONDROUS MIRACLES WHICH MOSES WROUGHT BY THE IMMEDIATE AID OF GOD HIMSELF. THE FEAT OF CHANGING THEIR STICKS INTO SERPENTS, FOR INSTANCE, IS ONE OF EVERY-DAY PERFORMANCE IN INDIA, WHICH A FRIEND OF MINE HAS ASSURED ME HE MANY TIMES saw himself, and which has not been satisfactorily explained by any one. THE SERPENT HAS LONG BEEN AN OBJECT OF EXTREME VENERATION TO THE NATIVES OF HINDOSTAN, AND HAS INDEED, FROM THE VERY EARLIEST AGES, BEEN SELECTED BY MANY NATIONS AS AN OBJECT OF WORSHIP; WHY, I CANNOT EXPLAIN, UNLESS IT ORIGINATED IN A SUPERSTITIOUS PERVERSION OF THE ELEVATION OF THE BRAZEN SERPENT IN THE WILDERNESS BY MOSES. IN INDIA THE SERPENT IS NOT, HOWEVER, ALTOGETHER REGARDED AS A DEITY—MERELY AS A demon OR GENIUS: AND THE OFFICE USUALLY SUPPOSED TO BE PECULIAR [Pg 234] TO THESE CREATURES IS THAT OF guardians. THIS IS PERHAPS ONE OF THE MOST WIDELY SPREAD NOTIONS RESPECTING THE SERPENT THAT WE ARE ACQUAINTED WITH. HERODOTUS MENTIONS THE SACRED SERPENTS WHICH GUARDED THE CITADEL OF ATHENS, AND WHICH HE STATES TO HAVE BEEN FED MONTHLY WITH CAKES OF HONEY; AND ADDS, THAT THESE SERPENTS BEING SACRED, WERE HARMLESS, AND WOULD NOT HURT MEN. A DRAGON WAS SAID TO HAVE GUARDED THE GOLDEN FLEECE (OR, AS SOME THINK, A scaly serpent), AND PROTECTED THE GARDENS OF THE HESPERIDES—A SINGULAR COINCIDENCE, AS IT IS OF gardens PRINCIPALLY THAT THE INDIANS conceive the serpent to be the guardian. Medea charmed THE DRAGON BY THE MELODY OF HER VOICE. HERODOTUS MENTIONS SNAKES BEING SOOTHED BY HARMONY; AND Virgil, in the Æneid, says (translated by Dryden), “His wand and holy words the viper’s rage And venom’d wound of serpents could assuage.” EVEN OUR OWN ISLAND, ALTHOUGH SERPENTS DO NOT EXIST IN IT—A BLESSING FOR WHICH, IF WE ARE TO PUT FAITH IN LEGENDARY LORE, WE HAVE TO THANK ST PATRICK—HAS NUMBERLESS LEGENDS AND TALES OF CROCKS OF TREASURE AT THE BOTTOM OF DEEP, DEEP LAKES, OR IN DARK AND GLOOMY CAVES, IN INACCESSIBLE AND ROCKY MOUNTAINS, GUARDED BY A FIERCE AND WAKEFUL SNAKE, A SLEEPLESS SERPENT, WHOSE EYES ARE NEVER CLOSED, AND WHO NEVER FOR A SECOND ABATED OF HIS WATCHFUL CARE OF THE TREASURE-CROCK, OF WHICH HE HAD ORIGINALLY BEEN APPOINTED GUARDIAN; [1] AND, FURTHER, WE ARE TOLD HOW THE DARING AND INVENTIVE GENIUS OF THE SON OF ERIN HAS OFTEN FOUND OUT A MODE OF PUTTING A “ comether” ON THE “BIG SARPINT, THE VILLAIN,” AND HAPLY CLOSING HIS EYES IN SLUMBER, WHILE HE SUCCEEDED IN POSSESSING HIMSELF OF THE HOARD WHICH BY HIS CUNNING AND bravery he had so fairly won; in other words, charming the snake and possessing himself of the spoil. HAVING THUS GLANCED AT THE ANTIQUITY AND WIDE SPREAD OF SERPENT-CHARMING, I SHALL PROCEED TO LAY BEFORE YOU A SHORT description of the mode in which the spell is cast over the animals by the modern jugglers of Arabia and India. OF ALL THE INDIAN SERPENTS, NEXT TO THE COBRA MINELLE, THE COBRA CAPELLA, OR HOODED SNAKE ( Coluber Naja), CALLED IN INDIA THE “NAIG,” AND ALSO “SPECTACLE SNAKE,” IS THE MOST VENOMOUS. IT DERIVES ITS NAMES OF hooded AND spectacle SNAKE FROM A FOLD OF SKIN RESEMBLING A HOOD NEAR THE HEAD, WHICH IT POSSESSES A POWER OF ENLARGING OR CONTRACTING AT PLEASURE; AND IN THE CENTRE OF THIS HOOD ARE SEEN, WHEN IT IS DISTENDED, BLACK AND WHITE MARKINGS, BEARING NO DISTANT OR FANCIFUL LIKENESS TO A PAIR OF SPECTACLES. THE MODE OF CHARMING, OR, AT ALL EVENTS, ALL THAT IS TO BE SEEN OR UNDERSTOOD BY THE SPECTATORS, CONSISTS IN THE JUGGLER PLAYING UPON A FLUTE OR FIFE NEAR THE HOLE WHICH A SNAKE HAS BEEN SEEN TO ENTER, OR WHICH HIS EMPLOYERS HAVE OTHERWISE REASON TO SUPPOSE THE REPTILE INHABITS. THE SERPENT WILL PRESENTLY PUT FORTH HIS HEAD, A PORTION OF HIS BODY WILL SHORTLY FOLLOW, AND IN A FEW MINUTES HE WILL CREEP FORTH FROM HIS RETREAT, AND, APPROACHING THE MUSICIAN, REAR HIMSELF ON HIS TAIL, AND BY MOVING HIS HEAD AND NECK UP AND DOWN OR FROM SIDE TO SIDE, KEEP TOLERABLY accurate time to the tune with which his ears are ravished. AFTER HAVING PLAYED FOR A SHORT PERIOD, AND APPARENTLY SOOTHED THE REPTILE INTO A STATE OF DREAMY UNCONSCIOUSNESS OF ALL THAT IS PASSING, SAVE ONLY THE HARMONY WHICH DELIGHTS HIM, THE JUGGLER WILL GRADUALLY BRING HIMSELF WITHIN GRASP OF THE snake, and by a sudden snatch seize him by the tail, and hold him out at arms’ length. On the cessation of the music, and ON FINDING HIMSELF THUS ROUGHLY ASSAILED, THE REPTILE BECOMES FEARFULLY ENRAGED, AND EXERTS ALL HIS ENERGIES TO TURN UPWARDS, AND BITE THE ARM OF HIS AGGRESSOR. HIS EFFORTS ARE HOWEVER FRUITLESS; WHILE HELD IN THAT POSITION, HE IS UTTERLY INCAPABLE OF DOING ANY INJURY; AND IS, AFTER HAVING BEEN HELD THUS FOR A FEW MINUTES BEFORE THE GAZE OF THE ADMIRING CROWD, DROPPED INTO A BASKET READY TO RECEIVE HIM, AND LAID ASIDE UNTIL THE JUGGLER HAS LEISURE AND PRIVACY TO COMPLETE the subjugation which his wonder-working melody had begun. WHEN CHARMED SERPENTS ARE EXHIBITED DANCING TO THE SOUND OF MUSIC, THE SPECTATORS SHOULD NOT CROWD TOO CLOSELY AROUND THE SEAT OF THE JUGGLER, FOR, NO MATTER HOW WELL TRAINED THEY MAY BE, THERE IS GREAT DANGER ATTENDING THE CESSATION of the sweet sounds; and if from any cause the flute or fife suddenly stops or is checked, it not unfrequently happens that THE SNAKE WILL SPRING UPON SOME ONE OF THE COMPANY, AND BITE HIM. I THINK THAT IT WILL NOT BE AMISS IF I QUOTE THE DESCRIPTION OF INDIAN SNAKE-CHARMING, FURNISHED BY A GENTLEMAN IN THE HONOURABLE COMPANY’S CIVIL SERVICE AT MADRAS, to the writer, who vouches for its veracity:— “ONE MORNING,” SAYS HE, “AS I SAT AT BREAKFAST, I HEARD A LOUD NOISE AND SHOUTING AMONG MY PALANKEEN BEARERS. ON INQUIRY I LEARNED THAT THEY HAD SEEN A LARGE HOODED SNAKE (OR COBRA CAPELLA), AND WERE TRYING TO KILL IT. I IMMEDIATELY WENT OUT, AND SAW THE SNAKE CLIMBING UP A VERY HIGH GREEN MOUND, WHENCE IT ESCAPED INTO A HOLE IN AN OLD WALL OF AN ANCIENT FORTIFICATION. THE MEN WERE ARMED WITH THEIR STICKS, WHICH THEY ALWAYS CARRY IN THEIR HANDS, AND HAD ATTEMPTED IN VAIN TO KILL THE REPTILE, WHICH HAD ELUDED THEIR PURSUIT, AND IN HIS HOLE HE HAD COILED HIMSELF UP SECURE, WHILE WE COULD SEE HIS BRIGHT EYES SHINING. I HAD OFTEN DESIRED TO ASCERTAIN THE TRUTH OF THE REPORT AS TO THE EFFECT OF MUSIC UPON SNAKES: I therefore inquired for a snake catcher. I was told there was no person of the kind in the village, but, after a little inquiry I HEARD THERE WAS ONE IN A VILLAGE DISTANT THREE MILES. I ACCORDINGLY SENT FOR HIM, KEEPING A STRICT WATCH OVER THE SNAKE, WHICH NEVER ATTEMPTED TO ESCAPE WHILST WE HIS ENEMIES WERE IN SIGHT. ABOUT AN HOUR ELAPSED, WHEN MY MESSENGER RETURNED, BRINGING THE SNAKE CATCHER. THIS MAN WORE NO COVERING ON HIS HEAD, NOR ANY ON HIS PERSON, EXCEPTING A SMALL PIECE OF CLOTH ROUND HIS LOINS: HE HAD IN HIS HANDS TWO BASKETS, ONE CONTAINING TAME SNAKES, ONE EMPTY: THESE AND HIS MUSICAL PIPE WERE THE ONLY THINGS HE HAD WITH HIM. I MADE THE SNAKE CATCHER LEAVE HIS TWO BASKETS ON THE GROUND AT SOME DISTANCE, WHILE HE ASCENDED THE MOUND WITH HIS PIPE ALONE. HE BEGAN TO PLAY: AT THE SOUND OF THE MUSIC THE SNAKE CAME GRADUALLY AND SLOWLY OUT OF HIS HOLE. WHEN HE WAS ENTIRELY WITHIN REACH, THE SNAKE CATCHER SEIZED HIM DEXTEROUSLY BY THE TAIL, AND HELD HIM THUS AT ARMS’ LENGTH, WHILST THE ENRAGED SNAKE DARTED HIS HEAD IN ALL DIRECTIONS, BUT IN VAIN: THUS [Pg 235] SUSPENDED, HE HAS NOT THE POWER TO ROUND HIMSELF SO AS TO SEIZE HOLD OF HIS TORMENTOR. HE EXHAUSTED HIMSELF IN VAIN EXERTIONS, WHEN THE SNAKE CATCHER DESCENDED THE BANK, DROPPED HIM INTO THE EMPTY BASKET, AND CLOSED THE LID: HE THEN BEGAN TO PLAY, AND AFTER A SHORT TIME RAISED THE LID OF THE BASKET, WHEN THE SNAKE DARTED ABOUT WILDLY, AND ATTEMPTED TO ESCAPE; THE LID WAS SHUT DOWN AGAIN QUICKLY, THE MUSIC ALWAYS PLAYING. THIS WAS REPEATED TWO OR THREE TIMES; AND IN A VERY SHORT INTERVAL, THE LID BEING RAISED, THE SNAKE SAT ON HIS TAIL, OPENED HIS HOOD, AND DANCED QUITE AS QUIETLY AS THE TAME SNAKES IN THE OTHER BASKET, NOR DID HE AGAIN ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE. THIS, HAVING WITNESSED IT WITH MY OWN EYES, I CAN assert as a fact.” I PARTICULARLY REQUEST THE ATTENTION OF MY READERS TO THE FOREGOING ACCOUNT, AS, FROM THE CIRCUMSTANCE OF ITS HAVING BEEN FURNISHED BY AN EYE-WITNESS, AND A MAN WHOSE PUBLIC STATION AND KNOWN CHARACTER WERE SUFFICIENT TO COMMAND BELIEF IN HIS VERACITY, IT WILL PROVE SERVICEABLE TO ME BY AND BYE, WHEN I SHALL ENDEAVOUR TO DISPROVE THE RIDICULOUS ASSERTIONS OF Abbé Dubois[2] AND OTHERS, WHO HOLD THAT SERPENT-CHARMING IS A MERE IMPOSITION, AND ASSERT, CERTAINLY WITHOUT A SHADE OF WARRANTY FOR SO DOING, THAT THE SERPENTS ARE IN THESE CASES ALWAYS PREVIOUSLY TAMED, AND DEPRIVED OF THEIR POISON BAGS AND FANGS, WHEN THEY ARE LET LOOSE IN CERTAIN SITUATIONS FOR THE PURPOSE OF BEING ARTFULLY CAUGHT AGAIN, AND REPRESENTED AS wild SNAKES, SUBDUED BY THE CHARMS OF THEIR PIPE. I SHALL, HOWEVER, SAY NO MORE AT PRESENT OF DUBOIS, DENON, OR OTHERS WHO ARE SCEPTICAL ON THIS SUBJECT, BUT SHALL LEAVE THE REFUTATION OF THEIR FANCIFUL OPINIONS TO ANOTHER opportunity—my present purpose being the establishment of facts, ere I venture to advance a theory. I SHALL THEREFORE CONCLUDE MY PRESENT PAPER, AND IN MY NEXT, BESIDES ADDUCING MANY OTHER IMPORTANT FACTS RELATIVE TO serpent-charming, shall endeavour to throw some light upon the real mode by which it is effected. H. D. R. See numerous legends of the “Peiste.” Description of the People of India, p. 469. GRUMBLING. IF IT BE NO PART OF THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION, IT IS CERTAINLY PART OF THE CONSTITUTION OF ENGLISHMEN TO GRUMBLE. THEY CANNOT HELP IT, EVEN IF THEY TRIED; NOT THAT THEY EVER DO TRY, QUITE THE REVERSE, BUT THEY COULD NOT HELP GRUMBLING IF THEY TRIED EVER SO MUCH. A TRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN IS BORN GRUMBLING. HE GRUMBLES AT THE LIGHT, BECAUSE IT DAZZLES HIS EYES, AND HE GRUMBLES AT THE DARKNESS, BECAUSE IT TAKES AWAY THE LIGHT. HE GRUMBLES WHEN HE IS HUNGRY, BECAUSE HE WANTS TO EAT; HE GRUMBLES WHEN HE IS FULL, BECAUSE HE CAN EAT NO MORE. HE GRUMBLES AT THE WINTER, BECAUSE IT IS COLD; HE GRUMBLES AT THE SUMMER, BECAUSE IT IS HOT; AND HE GRUMBLES AT SPRING AND AUTUMN, BECAUSE THEY ARE NEITHER HOT NOR COLD. HE GRUMBLES AT THE PAST, BECAUSE IT IS GONE; HE GRUMBLES AT THE FUTURE, BECAUSE IT IS NOT COME; AND HE GRUMBLES AT THE PRESENT, BECAUSE IT IS NEITHER THE PAST NOR THE FUTURE. HE GRUMBLES AT LAW, BECAUSE IT RESTRAINS HIM; AND HE GRUMBLES AT LIBERTY, BECAUSE IT DOES NOT RESTRAIN OTHERS. HE GRUMBLES AT ALL THE ELEMENTS—FIRE, WATER, EARTH, AND AIR. HE GRUMBLES AT FIRE, BECAUSE IT IS SO DEAR; AT WATER, BECAUSE IT IS SO FOUL; AT THE EARTH, IN ALL ITS COMBINATIONS OF MUD, DUST, BRICKS, AND SAND; AND AT THE AIR, IN ALL ITS CONDITIONS OF HOT OR COLD, WET OR DRY. ALL THE WORLD SEEMS AS IF IT WERE MADE FOR NOTHING ELSE THAN TO PLAGUE ENGLISHMEN, AND SET THEM A-GRUMBLING. THE ENGLISHMAN MUST GRUMBLE AT NATURE FOR ITS RUDENESS, AND AT ART FOR ITS INNOVATION; AT WHAT IS OLD, BECAUSE HE IS TIRED OF IT; AND AT WHAT IS NEW, BECAUSE HE IS NOT USED TO IT. HE GRUMBLES AT EVERYTHING THAT IS TO BE GRUMBLED AT; AND WHEN THERE IS NOTHING TO GRUMBLE AT, HE GRUMBLES AT THAT. GRUMBLING CLEAVES TO HIM IN ALL THE DEPARTMENTS OF LIFE; WHEN HE IS WELL, HE GRUMBLES AT THE COOK; AND WHEN HE IS ILL, HE GRUMBLES AT THE DOCTOR AND NURSE. HE GRUMBLES IN HIS AMUSEMENTS, AND HE GRUMBLES IN HIS DEVOTION; AT THE THEATRES HE GRUMBLES AT THE PLAYERS, AND AT CHURCH HE GRUMBLES AT THE PARSON. HE CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF HIM ENJOY A DAY’S PLEASURE WITHOUT GRUMBLING. HE GRUMBLES AT HIS ENEMIES, AND HE GRUMBLES AT HIS FRIENDS. HE GRUMBLES AT ALL THE ANIMAL CREATION, AT HORSES WHEN HE RIDES ON THEM, AT DOGS WHEN HE SHOOTS WITH THEM, AT BIRDS WHEN HE MISSES THEM, AT PIGS WHEN THEY SQUEAK, AT ASSES WHEN THEY BRAY, AT GEESE WHEN THEY CACKLE, AND AT PEACOCKS WHEN THEY SCREAM. HE IS ALWAYS ON THE LOOK-OUT FOR SOMETHING TO GRUMBLE AT; HE READS THE NEWSPAPERS, THAT HE MAY GRUMBLE AT PUBLIC AFFAIRS; HIS EYES ARE ALWAYS OPEN TO LOOK FOR ABOMINATIONS; HE IS ALWAYS PRICKING UP HIS EARS TO DETECT DISCORDS, AND SNUFFING UP THE AIR TO FIND STINKS. CAN YOU INSULT AN ENGLISHMAN MORE THAN BY TELLING HIM HE HAS NOTHING TO GRUMBLE AT? CAN YOU BY ANY POSSIBILITY INFLICT A GREATER INJURY UPON HIM THAN BY CONVINCING HIM HE HAS NO OCCASION TO GRUMBLE? BREAK HIS HEAD, AND HE WILL FORGET IT; PICK HIS POCKET, AND HE WILL FORGIVE IT, BUT DEPRIVE HIM OF HIS PRIVILEGE OF GRUMBLING, YOU MORE THAN KILL HIM—YOU EXPATRIATE HIM. BUT THE BEAUTY OF IT IS, YOU CANNOT INFLICT THIS INJURY ON HIM; YOU CANNOT BY ALL THE LOGIC EVER INVENTED, OR BY ALL THE ARGUMENTS THAT EVER WERE UTTERED, CONVINCE AN ENGLISHMAN THAT HE HAS NOTHING TO GRUMBLE AT; FOR IF YOU WERE TO DO SO, HE WOULD GRUMBLE AT YOU SO LONG AS HE LIVED FOR DISTURBING HIS OLD ASSOCIATIONS. GRUMBLING IS A PLEASURE WHICH WE ALL ENJOY MORE OR LESS, BUT NONE, OR BUT FEW, ENJOY IT IN ALL THE PERFECTION AND COMPLETENESS OF WHICH IT IS CAPABLE. IF WE WERE TO TAKE A LITTLE MORE PAINS, WE SHOULD FIND, THAT HAVING NO OCCASION TO GRUMBLE, WE SHOULD HAVE CAUSE TO GRUMBLE AT EVERYTHING. BUT WE GROW INSENSIBLE TO A GREAT MANY ANNOYANCES, AND ACCUSTOMED TO A GREAT MANY EVILS, AND THINK NOTHING OF THEM. WHAT A TREMENDOUS NOISE THERE IS IN THE CITY, OF CARTS, COACHES, DRAYS, WAGGONS, BARREL-ORGANS, FISH-WOMEN, AND ALL MANNER OF ABOMINATIONS, OF WHICH THEY IN THE CITY TAKE SCARCELY ANY NOTICE AT ALL! HOW BADLY ARE ALL MATTERS IN GOVERNMENT AND ADMINISTRATION CONDUCTED! WHAT VERY BAD BREAD DO THE BAKERS MAKE! WHAT VERY BAD MEAT DO THE [1] [2] BUTCHERS KILL! IN A WORD, WHAT IS THERE IN THE WHOLE COMPASS OF EXISTENCE THAT IS GOOD? WHAT IS THERE IN HUMAN CHARACTER THAT IS AS IT SHOULD BE? ARE WE NOT JUSTIFIED IN GRUMBLING AT EVERYTHING THAT IS IN HEAVEN ABOVE, OR IN THE EARTH BENEATH, OR IN THE WATERS UNDER THE EARTH? IN FACT, GENTLE READER, IS THE WORLD FORMED OR GOVERNED HALF SO WELL AS YOU OR I COULD FORM or govern it?—From a newspaper. VULGARITY. THE VERY ESSENCE OF VULGARITY, AFTER ALL, CONSISTS MERELY IN ONE ERROR—IN TAKING MANNERS, ACTIONS, WORDS, OPINIONS, ON TRUST FROM OTHERS, WITHOUT EXAMINING ONE’S OWN FEELINGS, OR WEIGHING THE MERITS OF THE CASE. IT IS COARSENESS OR SHALLOWNESS OF TASTE, ARISING FROM WANT OF INDIVIDUAL REFINEMENT, TOGETHER WITH THE CONFIDENCE AND PRESUMPTION INSPIRED BY EXAMPLE AND NUMBERS. IT MAY BE DEFINED TO BE A PROSTITUTION OF THE MIND OR BODY TO APE THE MORE OR LESS OBVIOUS DEFECTS OF OTHERS, BECAUSE BY SO DOING WE SHALL SECURE THE SUFFRAGES OF THOSE WE ASSOCIATE WITH. TO AFFECT A GESTURE, AN OPINION, A PHRASE, BECAUSE IT IS THE RAGE WITH A LARGE NUMBER OF PERSONS, OR TO HOLD IT IN ABHORRENCE BECAUSE ANOTHER SET OF PERSONS VERY LITTLE, IF AT ALL, BETTER INFORMED, CRY IT DOWN TO DISTINGUISH THEMSELVES FROM THE FORMER, IS IN EITHER CASE EQUAL VULGARITY AND ABSURDITY. A THING IS NOT VULGAR MERELY BECAUSE IT IS COMMON. IT IS COMMON TO BREATHE, TO SEE, TO FEEL, TO LIVE. NOTHING IS VULGAR THAT IS NATURAL, SPONTANEOUS, UNAVOIDABLE. GROSSNESS IS NOT VULGARITY, IGNORANCE IS NOT VULGARITY, AWKWARDNESS IS NOT VULGARITY; BUT ALL THESE BECOME VULGAR WHEN THEY ARE AFFECTED AND SHOWN OFF ON THE AUTHORITY OF OTHERS, OR TO FALL IN WITH THE FASHION OR THE COMPANY WE KEEP. CALIBAN IS COARSE ENOUGH, BUT SURELY HE IS NOT VULGAR. WE MIGHT AS WELL SPURN THE CLOD UNDER OUR FEET, AND CALL IT VULGAR. COBBETT IS COARSE ENOUGH, BUT HE IS NOT VULGAR. HE DOES NOT BELONG TO THE HERD. NOTHING REAL, NOTHING ORIGINAL, CAN BE VULGAR; BUT I SHOULD THINK AN IMITATOR OF COBBETT A VULGAR MAN. SIMPLICITY IS NOT VULGARITY; BUT THE LOOKING TO IMITATION OR AFFECTATION OF ANY SORT FOR DISTINCTION IS. A COCKNEY IS A VULGAR CHARACTER, WHOSE IMAGINATION CANNOT WANDER BEYOND THE SUBURBS OF THE METROPOLIS. AN ARISTOCRAT, ALSO, WHO IS ALWAYS THINKING OF THE HIGH STREET, EDINBURGH, IS VULGAR. WE WANT A NAME FOR THIS LAST CHARACTER. AN OPINION IS OFTEN VULGAR THAT IS STEWED IN THE RANK BREATH OF THE RABBLE; BUT IT IS NOT A BIT PURER OR MORE REFINED FOR HAVING PASSED THROUGH THE WELL-CLEANSED TEETH OF A WHOLE COURT. THE INHERENT VULGARITY LIES IN THE HAVING NO OTHER FEELING ON ANY SUBJECT THAN THE CRUDE, BLIND, HEADLONG, GREGARIOUS NOTION ACQUIRED BY SYMPATHY WITH THE MIXED MULTITUDE, OR WITH A FASTIDIOUS MINORITY, WHO ARE JUST AS INSENSIBLE TO THE REAL TRUTH, AND AS INDIFFERENT TO EVERY THING BUT THEIR OWN FRIVOLOUS PRETENSIONS. THE UPPER ARE NOT WISER THAN THE LOWER ORDERS, BECAUSE THEY RESOLVE TO DIFFER FROM THEM. THE FASHIONABLE HAVE THE ADVANTAGE OF THE UNFASHIONABLE IN NOTHING BUT THE FASHION. THE TRUE VULGAR ARE THE PERSONS WHO HAVE A HORRIBLE DREAD OF daring to differ from their CLIQUE—THE HERD OF PRETENDERS TO WHAT THEY DO NOT FEEL, AND TO DO WHAT IS NOT NATURAL TO THEM, WHETHER IN HIGH OR LOW LIFE. TO BELONG TO ANY CLASS, TO MOVE IN ANY RANK OR SPHERE OF LIFE, IS NOT A VERY EXCLUSIVE DISTINCTION OR TEST OF REFINEMENT. REFINEMENT WILL IN ALL CLASSES BE THE EXCEPTION, NOT THE RULE; AND THE EXCEPTION MAY OCCUR IN ONE CLASS AS WELL AS ANOTHER. A KING IS BUT A MAN WITH A HEREDITARY TITLE. A NOBLEMAN IS ONLY ONE OF THE HOUSE OF PEERS. TO BE A KNIGHT OR ALDERMAN—ABOVE ALL, TO DESIRE BEING EITHER, IS CONFESSEDLY A VULGAR THING. THE KING MADE WALTER SCOTT A BARONET, BUT NOT ALL THE POWER OF THE THREE ESTATES COULD MAKE ANOTHER “AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY.” PRINCES, HEROES, ARE OFTEN COMMONPLACE PEOPLE, AND SOMETIMES THE REVERSE; HAMLET WAS NOT A VULGAR CHARACTER, NEITHER WAS DON QUIXOTE. TO BE AN AUTHOR, TO BE A PAINTER, ONE OF THE MANY, IS NOTHING. IT IS A TRICK, IT IS A TRADE. NAY, TO BE A MEMBER OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY, OR A FELLOW OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY, IS BUT A VULGAR DISTINCTION. BUT TO BE A VIRGIL, A MILTON, A RAPHAEL, A CLAUDE, IS WHAT FALLS TO THE LOT OF HUMANITY BUT ONCE. I DO NOT THINK THOSE WERE VULGAR PEOPLE, THOUGH, FOR ANY THING I KNOW TO THE CONTRARY, THE FIRST LORD OF THE BEDCHAMBER MAY BE A VERY VULGAR MAN. SUCH ARE pretty much my notions with regard to vulgarity.—Hazlitt’s Table-Talk. WINTER COMES. Winter comes with screech and wail, Piercing blast and thundering gale; Far from frozen climes he brings Sleet and snow, and blanching things. He has trod the North Pole round, Long in icy fetters bound; Swept by Greenland’s frigid shore, Where the western billows roar— Roamed o’er Lapland’s ice-bound plains, Where chaotic darkness reigns; Rested on that land of woe Where the Russian captives go; Land where men of royal race, [Pg 236] Land where men of royal race, Exiled by some tyrant base, Pined in suffering, died in grief, No fond hand to bring relief— No bright eyes to shed one tear O’er their cold and lonely bier; Dying far from wife and child In Siberia’s stormy wild. Winter comes—his footsteps tread O’er the ocean’s rugged bed; As a ruthless conqueror he Sends his storms from sea to sea; Pity ne’er hath seized his breast, Sighs do ne’er disturb his rest— Shrieks that boom along the wave, And mark the seaman’s wat’ry grave, Fail to touch his icy soul, Fail to stop the billow’s roll. When enthroned as ocean’s king, Spirits of his triumphs sing, Drinking to his sovereign power In the fearful midnight hour, From those remnants of the dead That round ocean’s depths are spread. Winter comes, with giant stride O’er the hills and forests wide; From his aged brow he sheds Hoary locks around their heads— Mantles in his polar garb Tree and flower and tender herb. Not a leaf appears to show Where the summer cowslips grow; Not a bud or blossom fair Scents with sweets the chilly air; Not a bluebell decks the heath, All are hid beneath the wreath Spread by his unfriendly hand O’er the dark dismantled land. Gardens once so bright and gay, ’Neath the summer’s solar ray, Once so rich in lovely gems, Hanging on their pendent stems, Seem as some lone desert wild Where fair beauty never smiled— Where the light of summer’s sun Never touched or lit upon; Nature lies all lone and dead, ’Neath old Winter’s frosty tread. Winter comes, and some rejoice, Glad to hear his sullen voice Booming o’er the crested waves, Sounding through old grots and caves— Sighing ’mid the forest trees, Not in songs of summer’s breeze, But like mournings for the dead, That as fairy flowers have fled; Mounting o’er the mountain’s brow, Where the oak-tree’s trembling bough, Rushing through the wooded glen, Swooping o’er the frightsome fen. This is joy to hearts that know Nothing of the drifting snow, But beside the glowing hearth Spend the hours in joy and mirth, Spend the hours in joy and mirth, Laughing at the well-told tale, While without the rising gale Sweeps in furious mood along, Heedless of their boisterous song. Winter comes—and sorrow brings On his dark foreboding wings, To the poor lone helpless child On whom fortune never smiled, To the wretched cots and cells Where want’s abject sufferer dwells. Round them he does cast his reins, O’er them brings his woes and pains. O! ye lordlings of the earth, Freed from pinching want by birth, Let your bosoms heave one sigh For the poor whose piercing cry Calls for sympathy from all, Loud as human woes can call, Plead with you on every mind To be moved with mercy kind; Supplicates for help to save Suffering equals from the grave. Hear, O hear their melting cries Rising upward to the skies; Hear, and let the good which heaven Kindly to your hands hath given, Aid in promptly helping those Steept in poverty and woes; Then when earthly days are fled, And the joys (now dark and dead) Cease for ever from your eyes, May you live beyond the skies; May you hear your Saviour say, Come, my servants, come away; Enter in and seize your crown, Be partakers of my throne; For on earth you loved your lord; Hearken’d to his every word— Heard his suffering children cry, Wiped the tear-drops from their eye— Inasmuch as thus your love, Round their troubled souls did move, So to me that love was given Enter in with me to heaven. Coleraine, December 1840. S. A. TALES OF MY CHILDHOOD, BY JOHN KEEGAN. No. I.—THE BOCCOUGH RUADH. A TRADITION OF POOR-MAN’S BRIDGE. “When ghosts, as cottage maids believe, Their pebbled beds permitted leave, And goblins haunt, from fire or fen, Or mine or flood, the walks of men.”——COLLINS. ONE EVENING LAST WINTER—A HOLIDAY EVENING TOO—WHEN THE WESTERN WIND WAS SWEEPING ON WILD PINIONS FROM THE GREY HILLS OF TIPPERARY, ATHWART THE RICH AND LEVEL PLAINS OF THE QUEEN’S COUNTY, WHEN THE BLAST ROARED DOWN IN THE CHIMNEY, AND THE HUGE RAIN-DROPS PATTERED SAUCILY AGAINST THE FOUR TINY PANES WHICH CONSTITUTED THE LITTLE KITCHEN WINDOW, I WAS SITTING IN THE COTTAGE OF A NEIGHBOURING PEASANT, AMID A SMALL BUT HAPPY GROUP OF VILLAGE RUSTICS, AND ENJOYING WITH THEM THAT ENLIVENING MIRTH AND SINLESS DELIGHT WHICH I HAVE NEVER FOUND ANY WHERE BUT AT THE FIRESIDE OF AN IRISH PEASANT. THE EARTHEN FLOOR WAS WELL SCRUBBED OVER; THE “BRULLAWS OV FURNITHURE” WERE ARRANGED WITH MORE THAN USUAL TIDINESS, AND EVEN THE CROCKERY ON THE WELL-SCOURED DRESSER REFLECTED THE RUDDY GLARE OF THE RED FIRE WITH REDOUBLED BRILLIANCY, AND GLITTERED AND GLISTENED AS MERRILY AS IF THEY FELT CONSCIOUS OF THE CALM AND TRANQUILLITY OF THAT HAPPY SCENE. AND HAPPY INDEED WAS THAT SCENE, AND HAPPY WAS THAT TIME, AND HAPPIER STILL THE HEARTS OF THE LAUGHING RUSTICS BY WHOM I WAS ON that occasion surrounded, and amongst whom I have spent the lightest and happiest hours of my existence. IT WAS, AS I SAID, A WILD NIGHT, BUT EVEN THE VIOLENCE OF THE WEATHER ABROAD GAVE AN ADDITIONAL RELISH TO THE ENJOYMENTS WITHIN. THE BLAST WHISTLED FIERCELY IN THE BAWN AND IN THE HAGGARD, BUT THE HUGE FIRE BLAZED BRIGHTLY ON THE HEARTH-STONE. THE RAIN FELL IN TORRENTS; BUT, AS ONE OF THE COMPANY CHUCKLINGLY REMARKED, “THE WRONG SIDE OV THE HOUSE WAS OUT,” AND I myself mentally exclaimed with Tam o’ Shanter, “The storm without may roar and rustle, We do not mind the storm a whustle.” WHILST, TO WIND UP THE CLIMAX OF OUR HAPPINESS, A GOSSOON WHO HAD BEEN DISPATCHED FOR A GREY-BEARD FULL OF “THE NATIVE,” NOW RETURNED, AND IN A FEW MINUTES A HUGE JUG OF HALF AND HALF SMOKED ON THE TABLE, AND WAS CIRCULATED AROUND the smiling and expectant ring, with an impetus of which the peasantry of Ireland will in a short time, from certain existing causes, have not even the remotest idea. WELL! SUCH AN EVENING AS WE HAD, I SHALL NEVER FORGET; IT WOULD BE VAIN TO ATTEMPT A DESCRIPTION. THOSE WHO HAVE WITNESSED SIMILAR SCENES REQUIRE NONE, AND TO THOSE WHO HAVE NOT, ANY ATTEMPT AT ONE WOULD BE USELESS. ALL THEREFORE I SHALL SAY, IS, THAT SUCH A SCENE OF FUN AND FROLIC AND HARMLESS WAGGERY COULD NOT BE FOUND ANY WHERE OUTSIDE THAT RING which encircles the Emerald Isle, and even within that bright zone, nowhere but in the cabin of an Irish “scullogue.” THE SONGS OF OUR SIRES, CHANTED WITH ALL THAT MELANCHOLY SOFTNESS AND PATHETIC SWEETNESS FOR WHICH THE VOICES OF OUR WILD IRISH GIRLS ARE REMARKABLE, THE WILD LEGEND RECITED WITH THAT RICH BROGUE AND WAGGISH HUMOUR PECULIAR ALONE TO THE IRISH PEASANT, AND THE ROMANTIC AND ABSURD FAIRY TALE, TOLD WITH ALL THE REVERENTIAL AWE AND CAUTION WHICH THE SOLEMNITY OF THE SUBJECT REQUIRED, LONG AMUSED AND EXCITED THE CAPTIVATED AUDITORS; BUT AT LENGTH, MORE’S THE PITY, THE VOCALIST COULD SING NO MORE, HAVING “A MIGHTY GREAT COULD INTIRELY.” THE STORY-TELLER WAS “AS DRY AS A CHIP WID ALL HE TALKED,” AND EVEN THE SIDES OF MOST OF THE COMPANY “WAR READY TO SPLIT WID THE RALE DINT OF LAUGHIN’;” WHILST, AS IF TO AFFORD US ANOTHER ILLUSTRATION OF THE TRUTH OF THE OLD PROVERB, “ONE TROUBLE NEVER COMES ALONE,” EVEN THE OLD CRONE WHO HAD ASTONISHED US WITH THE RICHNESS AND EXTENT OF HER FAIRY LORE, WAS ALSO KNOCKED UP, OR RATHER KNOCKED down, FOR THE QUANTITY OF EARTHLY spirits she had put in, entirely put out all memory of un-earthly spirits, AND SENT HER DISORDERED FANCY, ALL CONFUSED AS IT was, wool-gathering to the classic regions of Their-na-noge.[3] WELL, WHAT WAS TO BE DONE? IT WAS STILL YOUNG IN THE NIGHT, AND, BETTER THAN THAT, A GOOD “SLUG” STILL REMAINED IN THE GREY- BEARD, AND AS WE ALL HAD CONTRIBUTED TO PROCURE THE STOCK, SO ALL DECLARED THAT NONE SHOULD DEPART UNTIL THE VERY LAST DROP WAS DRAINED. BUT HOW WAS THE INTERVAL TO BE EMPLOYED? THE SINGER WAS HUSHED, THE STORY-TELLER WAS EXHAUSTED, AND VOLLIES OF WIT AND WAGGERY HAD EXPLODED UNTIL EVERY ONE WAS TIRED; YET TO REMAIN SILENT WAS CONSIDERED BY ALL AS THE HIGHEST DEGREE OF DISCOMFORT. IN THIS DILEMMA THE MAN OF THE HOUSE SCRATCHED HIS PERICRANIUM, AND, AS ACTING BY SOME SUDDEN IMPULSE, STARTED UP AND HANDED ME AN OLD SOOTY BOOK, “HOPING THAT I WOULD READ A WOLLUME FOR THE EDICATION OF the company, until it would be time to retire.” I AGREED WITHOUT HESITATION, AND ON OPENING THE DUSTY AND SMOKE-BEGRIMED VOLUME FOUND THAT IT WAS “SIR CHARLES COOTE’S STATISTICAL SURVEY OF THE QUEEN’S COUNTY,” PRINTED IN DUBLIN BY GRAISBERRY AND CAMPBELL, AND PUBLISHED BY DIRECTION OF THE DUBLIN SOCIETY IN THE YEAR 1801. ALTHOUGH WELL AWARE THAT THE DRY DETAILS OF A WORK PROFESSEDLY AND ALMOST EXCLUSIVELY STATISTICAL, WERE LITTLE CALCULATED TO AMUSE OR INTEREST such AN AUDIENCE, YET, AS THE LIBRARY OF AN IRISH PEASANT IS ALWAYS UNFORTUNATELY SCANTY, AND IN THIS INSTANCE, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF A FEW TRIFLING WORKS ON RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS, LIMITED TO THE BOOK IN QUESTION, I DETERMINED TO MAKE THE BEST I COULD OF IT, AND FOR THAT PURPOSE OPENED IT AT SIR CHARLES’S DESCRIPTION OF THE IMMEDIATE DISTRICT IN WHICH WE WERE SITUATED, NAMELY, THE BARONY OF MARYBOROUGH WEST, AND TOWN-LAND OF KILLEANY. I READ ON THUS:—“ON SIR ALLEN JOHNSON’S ESTATE STAND THE RUINS OF KILLEANY CASTLE; THE WALLS ARE INJUDICIOUSLY BUILT OF VERY BAD STONES, THOUGH EXCELLENT QUARRY IS CONTIGUOUS. … POOR-MAN’S BRIDGE OVER THE Nore was lately widened, and is very safe, but I cannot learn the tradition why it was so called.” “READ THAT AGAIN, SIR,” SAID A FINE GREY-HEADED, PATRIARCHAL OLD MAN WHO WAS PRESENT; “READ THAT AGAIN,” SAID HE emphatically. I did so. “He CANNOT LEARN THE TRADITION OF POOR-MAN’S BRIDGE, inagh!” SAID THE OLD MAN WITH A SNEER; “FAITH, I BELIEVE NOT; I’D TAKE HIS WORD FOR MORE NOR THAT. BUT HAD HE COME TO ME WHEN HE WAS TRAVELLING THE COUNTRY MAKING UP HIS STATISTICKS, I could open his eyes on that subject, and many others too.” Some of those present laughed outright at the old man’s gravity of manner as he made this confident boast. “YOU NEED NOT LAUGH—YOU MAY SHUT YOUR POTATO-TRAPS,” SAID THE OLD MAN INDIGNANTLY. “GRAND AS HE WAS, WITH HIS GOLD [Pg 237] AND SILVER, HIS COACH AND HORSES, AND SERVANTS WITH GOLD AND SCARLET LIVERY, I COULD ENLIGHTEN HIM MORE ON THE ANCIENT history and traditions of our country than all the boddaghs of squireens whom he visited on his tour through the Queen’s County.” THESE ASSERTIONS SERVED ONLY TO INCREASE THE STORM OF RIDICULE WHICH WAS GATHERING AROUND THE OLD MAN’S HEAD; AND TO PUT A STOP TO ANY BAD BLOOD WHICH THE OCCASION MIGHT CALL FORTH, I REQUESTED OF HIM TO TELL US THE TRADITION OF “THE Boccough Ruadh.” After some wheedling and flattery he complied, and told a curious story, of which the following is the substance. THE RIVER NORE FLOWS THROUGH A DISTRICT OF THE QUEEN’S COUNTY CELEBRATED FOR FERTILITY AND ROMANTIC BEAUTY. FROM ITS SOURCE AMONGST THE BLUE HILLS OF SLIEVEBLOOM TO ITS TERMINATION AT NEW ROSS, WHERE ITS BRIGHT RIPPLES COMMINGLE WITH THE BRINY BILLOWS OF THE IRISH SEA, MANY EXCELLENT AND EVEN SOME BEAUTIFUL BRIDGES SPAN ITS STREAM. UNTIL THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE LAST CENTURY, HOWEVER, EXCEPT IN THE VICINITY OF TOWNS, THERE WERE BUT FEW PERMANENT BRIDGES ACROSS THIS RIVER, AND IN THE COUNTRY DISTRICTS ACCESS WAS GAINED OVER IT CHIEFLY BY MEANS OF CAUSEWAYS, OR, AS THEY ARE TERMED, “FOORDS,” CONSTRUCTED OF STONES AND HUGE BLOCKS OF TIMBER FIXED FIRMLY IN THE BED OF THE RIVER, AND EXTENDING IN IRREGULAR SUCCESSION FROM BANK TO BANK. OVER THIS PATHWAY FOOT PASSENGERS CROSSED EASILY ENOUGH, BUT CATTLE AND WHEELED CARRIAGES WERE OBLIGED TO STRUGGLE THROUGH THE WATER AS WELL AS THEY COULD; BUT IN TIME OF FLOODS, AND IN THE WINTER SEASON WHEN THE waters were swollen, all communication was cut off except to pedestrians alone. ONE OF THOSE “FOORDS,” IN FORMER TIMES, CROSSED THE NORE AT SHANAHOE, A VERY PRETTY NEIGHBOURHOOD, ABOUT THREE MILES NORTHWARDS OF THE BEAUTIFUL AND RISING TOWN OF ABBEYLEIX, IN THE QUEEN’S COUNTY. THE RIVER HERE WINDS ITS COURSE THROUGH A SILENT GLEN, AND NOW SEVERAL SNUG COTTAGES AND FARM-HOUSES ARISE ABOVE ITS BANKS AT EITHER SIDE. THE COUNTRY IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD IS REMARKABLY BEAUTIFUL. SEVERAL GENTLEMEN’S SEATS ARE SCATTERED ALONG THE BANKS OF THE RIVER IN THIS VICINITY, ALL ELEGANT AND OF MODERN ERECTION, WHILST SWELLING HILLS, SLOPING DALES, GLOOMY GROVES, AND RUINS OF CHURCH AND tower and “castle grey,” ornament and diversify the scene. ON A GENTLE EMINENCE ON THE EASTERN BANK OF THE RIVER, STOOD, ABOUT A HUNDRED YEARS AGO, THE CABIN OF A MAN NAMED NEALE O’SHEA. AT THAT PERIOD THERE WAS NOT ANOTHER DWELLING WITHIN A LONG DISTANCE OF THE “FOORD,” AND MANY A TIME WAS NEALE SUMMONED FROM HIS MIDNIGHT REPOSE TO GUIDE THE TRAVELLER IN HIS PASSAGE OVER THE LONELY AND DANGEROUS RIVER pathway. ONE WILD STORMY DECEMBER NIGHT, WHEN THE HUGE LIMESTONE ROCKS THAT FORMED THE STEPPING-STONES OF THE FORD WERE LASHED AND CHAFED BY THE ANGRY FOAM OF THE AGITATED RIVER, NEALE O’SHEA’S WIFE FANCIED SHE HEARD, AMID THE FITFUL PAUSINGS OF THE WIND, THE CRY OF SOME MORTAL IN DISTRESS. SHE IMMEDIATELY AROUSED HER HUSBAND, WHO WAS STRETCHED ASLEEP ON A LARGE OAK STOOL IN THE CHIMNEY CORNER, AND TOLD HIM TO LOOK OUT. NEALE, EVER WILLING TO RELIEVE A FELLOW- CREATURE, AROSE, AND, FLINGING HIS GREY “TRUSTY” OVER HIS EXPANSIVE SHOULDERS, AND SEIZING A LONG IRON-SHOD POLE OR WATTLE, the constant companion of his nightly excursions, hastened down to the river’s brink. He stood a moment at the verge of THE FORD, AND TRIED TO PENETRATE THROUGH THE INTENSE GLOOM, TO SEE IF HE COULD DISCOVER A HUMAN FORM, BUT HE COULD SEE nothing. “IS THERE ANY ONE THERE?” HE SHOUTED IN A STENTORIAN VOICE, WHICH ROSE HIGH ABOVE THE WHISTLING OF THE BLAST, AND THE brawling of the angry and swift-rushing river. A VOICE SOUNDED AT THE OTHER EXTREMITY OF THE FORD, AND THE STOUT-HEARTED PEASANT, WITH STEADY STEP, CROSSED OVER THE slippery stepping-stones. “WHO THE DEVIL ARE YOU?” ROUGHLY EXCLAIMED NEALE TO A MAN WHO LAY EXTENDED ON THE BRINK OF THE RIVER, CONVENIENT TO the entrance of the ford. “WHOEVER I AM,” FAINTLY REPLIED THE STRANGER, “YOU ARE MY GOOD ANGEL, AND IT WAS SURELY PROVIDENCE WHO SENT YOU THIS night to rescue me from a watery grave.” “WHOEVER YOU ARE,” AGAIN SAID NEALE, “COME ALONG WITH ME, AND KATHLEEN AND THE CHILDRE WILL MAKE YOU WELCOME IN MY CABIN UNTIL MORNING.” SO SAYING, HE SEIZED THE BENDING FORM OF THE WAYWORN STRANGER, AND FLINGING HIM ON HIS BACK with herculean strength, trudged over the stepping-stones, chuckling with delight, and gaily whistling as he went. THE DANGEROUS PASS WAS SOON CROSSED, AND ARRIVING AT THE DOOR, NEALE PUSHED IT BEFORE HIM, AND WITH A SMILE DEPOSITED HIS TREMBLING BURTHEN ON THE WARM HEARTH. A FINE FIRE BLAZED MERRILY, AND ITS FLICKERING BEAMS FELL BRIGHTLY ON THE FACE OF THE STRANGER. HE WAS A TALL, PORTLY FIGURE, STOOPED AS IF FROM EXTREME SUFFERING MORE THAN AGE, AND HAD A WOODEN LEG. HIS FEATURES, WHICH HAD EVIDENTLY BEEN HANDSOME IN HIS YOUTH, WERE WORN, PALE, AND ATTENUATED, AND HE MIGHT BE ABOUT FIFTY YEARS OF AGE. HIS CLOTHES WERE FADED AND RAGGED; HE WAS ENTIRELY WITHOUT SHOES OR STOCKINGS; AND HIS HEAD WAS COVERED by a broad-brimmed leathern hat, under which he wore an enormous red nightcap of coarse woollen cloth. THE GOOD KATHLEEN NOW SET ABOUT PREPARING SUPPER, AND WHILE THUS EMPLOYED, THE STRANGER GAVE THEM A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF HIS BYGONE LIFE. HE TOLD THEM THAT HE WAS A NATIVE OF THE NORTH OF IRELAND, AND THAT HE HAD SPENT SEVERAL YEARS OF HIS YOUTH AT SEA; THAT BEING WOUNDED IN A FRAY WITH SMUGGLERS ON THE COAST OF FRANCE, AND LOSING HIS LEG, HE WAS DISCHARGED FROM HIS EMPLOYMENT, AND SENT ADRIFT ON THE WORLD, WITHOUT HAVING ONE FRIEND ON EARTH, OR A PENNY IN HIS POCKET. IN THIS EXIGENCE HE HAD NO ALTERNATIVE BUT TO APPLY TO THE COMMISERATION OF HIS FELLOW-CREATURES, AND HAD THUS FOR THE LAST TWENTY years wandered up and down, entirely dependent on the bounty and charity of the public. Supper was now ready, and having partaken of a comfortable meal, the wanderer went to rest in a comfortable “shake- DOWN,” WHICH THE GOOD WOMAN HAD PREPARED FOR HIM IN THE CHIMNEY CORNER. THE STORM DIED AWAY DURING THE NIGHT, AND [Pg 238] next morning the watery beams of the winter’s sun shone faintly yet gaily on the smooth surface of the silvery Nore. THE STRANGER WAS UP AT SUNRISE, AND WAS PREPARING TO DEPART, BUT HIS KIND HOST AND HOSTESS WOULD NOT PERMIT HIM TO GO. THEY TOLD HIM TO STOP A FEW DAYS TO REST HIMSELF, AND IN THE INTERIM, THAT HE COULD NOT DO BETTER THAN TAKE HIS STAND AT THE FORD, AND ASK ALMS OF THOSE WHO PASSED THE WAY, AS A GREAT MANY FREQUENTED THAT PASS; AND AS NOTHING WAS EVER CRAVED from them there, they would cheerfully extend their charity to an object worthy of relief. ACTING ON THEIR SUGGESTIONS, THE OLD SAILOR WAS SOON SITTING ON A STONE AT THE WESTERN EXTREMITY OF THE FORD. WITH HIS OLD CAUBEEN IN HIS HAND, AND HIS HEAD ENVELOPED IN THE GIGANTIC RED NIGHTCAP, HE CRAVED ALMS, IN THE NAME OF GOD AND THE VIRGIN, FROM ALL WHO PASSED THE WAY; AND BEFORE THE SICKLY BEAMS OF THE DECEMBER SUN HAD SUNK BEHIND THE CONICAL “GIZEBO,” HE COULD SHOW MORE MONEY THAN EVER HE DID BEFORE, SINCE HIS LIMB WAS SWEPT OFF BY THE SHOT OF THE SMUGGLING Frenchman. The next morning, and every morning after, found the sailor at his post at the ford: he soon became well known to all the VILLAGERS, AND FROM THE CIRCUMSTANCE OF HIS ALWAYS APPEARING WITH NO OTHER HEAD-GEAR THAN THE RED NIGHTCAP, THEY nicknamed him the “Boccough Ruadh,”[4] a name by which he went ever after till his death. TIME PASSED ON AS USUAL, AND THE ONE-LEGGED SAILOR STILL PLIED HIS LUCRATIVE VOCATION AT THE RIVER PASS. NEALE O’SHEA’S CABIN STILL CONTINUED TO AFFORD HIM SHELTER EVERY NIGHT, AND ALL HIS DAYS, FROM THE CROW OF THE COCK TO THE VESPER SONG OF THE WOOD-THRUSH, WERE PASSED AT THE FORD, SEATED ON THAT REMARKABLE BLOCK OF LIMESTONE CALLED TO THIS DAY THE “CLOUGH- na-Boccough.”[5] HIS HAND WAS STRETCHED TO EVERY STRANGER FOR ALMS, “FOR THE GOOD OF THEIR SOULS,” AND VERY FEW PASSED WITHOUT GIVING MORE OR LESS TO THE BOCCOUGH RUADH. THUS HE ACQUIRED CONSIDERABLE SUMS OF MONEY, BUT CONSTANTLY DENIED HAVING A “KEENOGUE;” BUT WHEN BANTERED BY ANY OF THE NEIGHBOURING URCHINS ON THE LENGTH OF HIS PURSE, HE WOULD GET INTO A GREAT RAGE, AND SWEAR, BY THE CROSS OF HIS CRUTCH, THAT BETWEEN BUYING THE SHOUGH OF TOBACCO AND PAYING FOR OTHER THINGS HE WANTED, HE HADN’T AS MUCH AS WOULD JINGLE ON A TOMB-STONE, OR WHAT WOULD BUY A FARTHING CANDLE TO SHOW LIGHT TO HIS POOR CORPSE AT THE LAST DAY. HIS FOOD WAS OF THE VERY WORST DESCRIPTION, AND UNLESS SUPPLIED BY THE KIND-HEARTED KATHLEEN O’SHEA, HE WOULD SOONER GO TO BED SUPPERLESS THAN LAY OUT ONE PENNY TO BUY BREAD. HE SUFFERED HIS CLOTHES TO GO TO RAGS, UNLESS WHEN ANY PERSON IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD WOULD GIVE HIM OLD CLOTHES FOR CHARITY, AND HE WOULD NOT PAY FOR SOAP TO WASH HIS SHIRT ONCE IN THE TWELVEMONTH. YET NO ONE COULD FIND OUT WHAT HE DID WITH HIS MONEY; HE DID NOT SPEND TWO-AND-SIXPENCE IN THE YEAR, AND IT WAS PEOPLE’S OPINION THAT HE WAS HOARDING IT UP TO GIVE for the benefit of his soul at his dying day. YEARS ROLLED AWAY, AND NEALE O’SHEA HAVING NOW WAXED OLD, DIED, AND WAS GATHERED TO HIS FATHERS IN THE ADJACENT GREEN CHURCHYARD OF SHANNIKILL, [6] ON THE BANKS OF THE WINDING NORE. THE BOCCOUGH FOLLOWED THE REMAINS OF HIS KIND BENEFACTOR TO HIS LAST EARTHLY RESTING-PLACE, AND POURED HIS SORROWS OVER HIS GRAVE IN LOUD AND LONG-CONTINUED LAMENTATIONS. BUT THOUGH NEALE WAS GONE, KATHLEEN REMAINED, AND SHE PROMISED THAT WHILE SHE LIVED, NEITHER SON NOR daughter should ever turn out the Boccough Ruadh. IT WAS NOW FORTY YEARS SINCE THE BOCCOUGH FIRST CROSSED THE WATERS OF THE NORE, AND STILL HE WAS CONSTANTLY TO BE FOUND FROM MORNING TILL NIGHT ON HIS FAVOURITE STONE AT THE RIVER SIDE. IN THE MEAN TIME, ALL O’SHEA’S CHILDREN WERE MARRIED, AND SEPARATED THROUGH VARIOUS PARTS OF THE COUNTRY, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF TERRY, THE YOUNGEST, A FINE STOUT FELLOW, NOW ABOUT THIRTY-FIVE YEARS OF AGE, WHO STILL REMAINED IN A STATE OF SINGLE BLESSEDNESS, AND SAID HE WOULD CONTINUE SO, “UNTIL HE WOULD BE AFTER LAYING THE LAST SOD ON HIS POOR OULD MOTHER.” WITH GIGANTIC STRENGTH, HE INHERITED ALL HIS FATHER’S KINDNESS OF HEART AND UNDAUNTED BRAVERY, AND HE WAS PARTICULARLY ATTENTIVE TO THE BOCCOUGH, WHOM HE REGARDED WITH THE SAME affection as a child would a parent. ONE MORNING IN SUMMER, THE BOCCOUGH WAS OBSERVED TO REMAIN IN BED LONGER THAN WAS HIS CUSTOM, AND THINKING THAT HE might be unwell, Terry went to his bedside, and demanded why he was not up as usual. “Ah, Terry, alanna,” SAID THE OLD MAN SORROWFULLY, “I WILL NEVER GET UP AGAIN UNTIL I DO UPON THE BEARER. [7] MY DAYS ARE SPENT, AND I KNOW IT, FOR THERE IS SOMETHING OVER ME THAT I CANNOT DESCRIBE, AND I WON’T BE ALIVE IN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS;” AND AS HE SAID THESE WORDS, HE HEAVED A DEEP GROAN, WHILST TERRY, WIPING HIS EYES WITH THE SLEEVE OF HIS COAT, WEPT bitterly. “Will I go for the priest?” demanded Terry, sobbing as if his heart would break. “NO,” REPLIED THE OLD MAN SORROWFULLY, “I DO NOT WANT HIM. IT IS LONG SINCE I COMPLIED WITH MY RELIGIOUS DUTIES, AND NOW I feel it is useless.” “There is mercy still,” replied Terry; “you know the ould sayin’, ‘Mercy craved and mercy found Between the saddle and the ground.’” THE OLD MAN REPLIED NOT, BUT SHOOK HIS HEAD, INDICATING HIS DETERMINATION TO DIE WITHOUT THE CONSOLATIONS OF RELIGION, whilst Terry trembled for his hopeless situation. “Well, since you won’t have the priest, will you give me some money till I bring you the doctor?” said Terry. The old man’s eyes literally flashed fire, his form heaved with rage, and his countenance displayed demoniac indignation. “What’s that you say?” he demanded in a ferocious tone. Terry repeated the question. “Send for a doctor!—give you money!” echoed the old man. “Where the devil would I get money to pay a doctor?” “You have it, and ten times as much,” said Terry, “and you cannot deny it.” “If I have as much money as would buy me a coffin,” said the Boccough, “may my soul never rest quiet in the grave.” TERRY CROSSED HIS BROW WITH TERROR. HE KNEW THE UNHAPPY WRETCH WAS DYING WITH A LIE ON HIS TONGUE, BUT HE RESOLVED not to press the matter further. “You are dying as fast as you can,” remarked Terry; “have you any thing to say before you go?” “Nothing,” replied he faintly. “But let me be buried with my red nightcap on me.” “YOUR WISH MUST BE GRANTED,” SAID TERRY, AND HE WENT TO AWAKE HIS OLD MOTHER, WHO STILL LAY ASLEEP. WHEN HE RETURNED, he found the old man breathing his last. He uttered a convulsive groan, and expired. HE WAS WASHED AND STRETCHED, AND WAKED, WITH ALL THE HONOURS, RITES, AND CEREMONIES BELONGING TO A GENUINE IRISH WAKE; AND ON THE THIRD DAY FOLLOWING, BEING THE SABBATH, HE WAS FOLLOWED TO THE GRAVE BY CROWDS OF THE VILLAGE PEASANTRY, WHO REMAINED IN THE CHURCHYARD UNTIL THEY SAW HIS REMAINS DEPOSITED, AS THEY THOUGHT FOR EVER, IN THE RANK soil of the “City of the Dead.” MANY RUMOURS WERE NOW CURRENT RESPECTING THE BOCCOUGH’S MONEY. EVERY ONE BUT TERRY BELIEVED THAT THE “LOB” FELL WITH TERRY HIMSELF. BUT TERRY, WHO KNEW BETTER, BELIEVED AND AFFIRMED THAT “WHAT WAS GOT UNDER THE DEVIL’S BELLY, ALWAYS GOES OVER HIS BACK,” AND THAT THE “OLD BOY” HAD TAKEN THE SPOIL, AND THAT IT LAY CONCEALED IN SOME CREVICE IN THE bank of the river. THE NIGHT FOLLOWING THE BURIAL OF THE OLD SAILOR WAS PASSED IN A VERY DISTURBED AND AGITATED MANNER BY TERRY O’SHEA: HE could not sleep a wink; and when he fell into a slumber, he started and moaned, and appeared frightened and annoyed. “What ails you?” affectionately demanded his old mother, who slept in the same room, and who was kept awake by her son’s restless and disturbed manner. “I don’t know, mother,” said Terry; “I am so frightened and tormented with dreaming of the Boccough Ruadh, that I am almost out of my natural senses. Even at this moment I think I see him walking the room before me.” “HOLY MARY, PROTECT US!” EJACULATED THE OLD WOMAN. “AND IT IS NO WONDER THAT HIS MISFORTHUNATE SOUL WOULD BE STAR- gazing about—and to die without the priest, and a curse and a lie in his mouth!” Terry groaned agitatedly. “And how does he appear in your dreams?” asked the old woman. “AS HE ALWAYS WAS,” REPLIED TERRY. “BUT I THINK I SEE HIM POINTING TO HIS RED NIGHTCAP, AND ENDEAVOURING TO PULL IT OFF with his old withered hand.” “UMPH!” SAID THE OLD WOMAN, IN A KNOWING TONE. “HA! HA! I HAVE IT NOW. ARE YOU SURE THAT THE STRINGS OF HIS NIGHTCAP were unloosed before he was nailed up in the coffin?” “I don’t know,” was the reply. “I’LL GO BAIL THEY WEREN’T,” SAID THE OLD WOMAN; “AND YOU KNOW, OR AT ANY RATE YOU OUGHT TO KNOW, THAT A CORPSE CAN never rest in the grave when there is a knot or a tie upon any thing belonging to its grave-dress.” Terry emitted another deep groan. “WELL, acushla,” SAID THE OLD MOTHER, “GO TO-MORROW, AND TAKE A NEIGHBOUR WITH YOU, AND OPEN THE GRAVE, AND SEE IF ANY THING BE ASTHRAY. IF YOU FIND THE NIGHTCAP OR ANY THING ELSE NOT AS IT SHOULD BE, SET IT TO RIGHTS, AND CLOSE THE GRAVE again de...