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THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.

    NUMBER 4.      SATURDAY, JULY 25, 1840.      VOLUME 1.

[Illustration: CAISLEAN-NA-CIRCE, OR THE HEN'S CASTLE.]


Our prefixed illustration gives a near view of one of the most
interesting ruins now remaining in the romantic region of Connemara, or
the Irish Highlands, and which is no less remarkable for its great
antiquity than for the singularly wild and picturesque character of its
situation, and that of its surrounding scenery. It is the feature that
gives poetic interest to the most beautiful portion of Lough Corrib--its
upper extremity--where a portion of the lake, about three miles in
length, is apparently surrounded and shut in by the rocky and precipitous
mountains of Connemara and the Joyce country, which it reflects upon its
surface, without any object to break their shadows, or excite a feeling
of human interest, but the one little lonely Island-Castle of the Hen.
That an object thus situated--having no accompaniments around but those
in keeping with it--should, in the fanciful traditions of an imaginative
people, be deemed to have had a supernatural origin, is only what might
have been naturally expected; and such, indeed, is the popular belief. If
we inquire of the peasantry its origin, or the origin of its name, the
ready answer is given, that it was built by enchantment in one night by a
cock and a hen grouse, who had been an Irish prince and princess!

There is, indeed, among some of the people of the district a dim
tradition of its having been erected as a fastness by an O'Conor, King
of Connaught, and some venture to conjecture that this king was no other
than the unfortunate Roderick, the last King of Ireland; and that the
castle was intended by him to serve as a place of refuge and safety, to
which he could retire by boat, if necessity required, from the
neighbouring monastery of Cong, in which he spent the last few years of
his life: and it is only by this supposition that they can account for
the circumstance of a castle being erected by the O'Conors in the very
heart of a district which they believe to have been in the possession of
the O'Flahertys from time immemorial. But this conjecture is wholly
erroneous, and the true founders and age of this castle are to be found
in our authentic but as yet unpublished Annals, from which it appears
certain that the Hen's Castle was one of several fortresses erected, with
the assistance of Richard de Burgo, Lord of Connaught, and Lord Justice
of Ireland, by the sons of Roderick, the last monarch of the kingdom. It
is stated in the Annals of Connaught, and in the Annals of the Four
Masters, at the year 1225, that Hugh O'Conor (son of Cathal Crovedearg),
King of Connaught, and the Lord Justice of Ireland, Richard De Burgo,
arriving with their English at the Port of Inis Creamha, on the east side
of Lough Corrib, caused Hugh O'Flaherty, the Lord of West Connaught, to
surrender the island of Inis Creamha, Oilen-na-Circe, or the Hen's
Island, and all the vessels of the lake, into Hugh O'Conor's hands, for
assurance of his fidelity.

From this entry it would appear that the Hen's Island, as well as the
island called Inis Creamha, had each a castle on it previously; and this
conclusion is strengthened by a subsequent entry in the same Annals, at
the year 1233, from which it appears that this castle, as well as others,
had been erected by the sons of Roderick, who had been long in contention
for the government with Cathal Crovedearg, and his sons Hugh and Felim,
and had, during these troubles, possessed themselves of O'Flaherty's
country. On the death of Hugh O'Conor, who was treacherously slain by
Geoffry De Mares, or De Marisco, in 1228, they appear to have again
seized on the strongholds of the country, that of the Hen's Castle among
the rest, and to have retained them till 1233, when their rival Felim
O'Conor finally triumphed, and broke down their castles. This event is
thus narrated in the Annals of the Four Masters:--

"1233. Felim, the son of Charles the Red-handed, led an array into
Connaught. Cormac, the son of Tomaltagh (Lord of Moylurg), went to meet
him, and brought him to Moylurg, where they erected a camp at Druim
Greagraighe, and were joined by Cormac, by Conor his son, the inhabitants
of the three Tuathas, and by the two sons of Mortogh Mac Dermot, Donogh
and Mortogh. They here consulted with each other, and resolved upon going
in pursuit of Hugh (King of Connaught) and the other sons of Roderic.
After overtaking them, they defeated Hugh, slew himself, his brother,
Hugh Muimhneach his son, and Donogh More, the son of Dermot, who was the
son of Roderic, and many others besides. There were also slain Raghallach
O'Flanigan, Thomas Biris, Constable of Ireland, his relative John Guer,
and many other Englishmen. This was after the bells and croziers had been
rung against them, after they had been cursed and excommunicated by the
clergy of Connaught; for Hugh Muimhneach had violated and plundered
Tibohine and many other churches, so that he and his adherents fell in
revenge of their dishonour to the saints whose churches they had
violated. The kingdom and sovereignty of Connaught were wrested from the
sons of Roderic, the son of Torlogh, on that day. Felim, the son of
Charles the Red-handed, then assumed the government of Connaught, _and
demolished the castles which had been erected by the power of the sons of
Roderic O'Conor and Mac William Burke_, namely, the Castle of Bon
Gaillimbe, _Caislen-na-Circe_, Caislen-na-Caillighe, and the Castle of
Dunamon."

In subsequent times the Hen's Castle reverted to the O'Flahertys, and was
repaired and garrisoned by them till the time of Cromwell, when, as we
are informed by Roderick O'Flaherty, it was finally dismantled and left
to decay. Still, however, enough remains to exhibit its original plan,
which was that of an Anglo-Norman castle or keep, in the form of a
parallelogram, with three projecting towers on its two longest sides; and
the architectural features of the thirteenth century are also visible in
some of its beautifully executed windows and doorways.

The Hen's Castle is not without its legendary traditions connected with
its history anterior to its dilapidation; and the following outline of
one of these--and the latest--as told at the cottage firesides around
Lough Corrib, may be worth preserving as having a probable foundation in
truth.

It is said that during the troubled reign of Queen Elizabeth, a lady of
the O'Flahertys, who was an heiress and a widow, with an only child, a
daughter, to preserve her property from the grasp of her own family and
that of the De Burgos or Burkes, shut herself up with her child in the
Hen's Castle, attended by twenty faithful followers, of tried courage and
devotion to her service, of her own and her husband's family. As such a
step was, however, pregnant with danger to herself, by exciting the
attention and alarm of the government and local authorities, and
furnishing her enemies with an excuse for aggression, she felt it
necessary to obtain the queen's sanction to her proceedings; and
accordingly she addressed a letter to her majesty, requesting her
permission to arm her followers, and alleging as a reason for it, the
disaffected state of the country, and her ardent desire to preserve its
peace for her majesty. The letter, after the fashion of the times, was
not signed by the lady in her acquired matron's name, but in her maiden
one, of which no doubt she was more proud; it was Bivian or Bevinda
O'Flaherty. The queen received it graciously; but not being particularly
well acquainted with the gender of Irish Christian names, and never
suspecting, from the style or matter of the epistle, that it had emanated
from one of her own sex, she returned an answer, written with her own
hand, authorising her good friend "Captain Bivian O'Flaherty" to retain
twenty men at her majesty's expense, for the preservation of the peace of
the country; and they were maintained accordingly, till the infant
heiress, becoming adult, was united to Thomas Blake, the ancestor of the
present Sir John Blake of Menlo Castle, and proprietor of the Castle of
the Hen.

To these brief notices of an ancient castle, not hitherto described, or
its age ascertained, we shall only add, that there are few military
structures of lime and stone now remaining in Ireland that can boast an
equal antiquity.

    P.




OCCUPATIONS FOR THE YOUNG.

BY MARTIN DOYLE.


Habit is said to be a second nature, and it is often stronger than the
first. At first we easily take the bend from the hand of the master, but
the second nature, which is of our own making, is frequently proof
against any alteration. How important, then, is _education_, which gives
the turn and moulding to the mind while it is flexible, fixes the habits,
and forms the character! The discipline of the mind, with respect to its
natural bias, is either misdirected or misunderstood in nine cases out of
ten, and latent talents or tendencies, which by proper culture might be
rendered sources of enjoyment to the possessor, and useful to the
community, are restrained, if not too powerful for suppression, from
their proper developement, by absurd and artificial treatment.

In the upper classes, a parent, perhaps, incapable of estimating the
capacity of his son, determines with himself that the profession, suppose
of divinity, of law, or of medicine, is the most lucrative,
gentlemanlike, or otherwise eligible, and that the boy shall be educated
accordingly.

The unfortunate youth who has no talent for the acquisition of languages,
and cannot comprehend the simplest proposition in geometry, is condemned
to pursue a prescribed routine, and to pass many of the most precious
years of his life in the unavailing effort to learn, through the drudgery
of a classical school, what is repugnant to his taste, and beyond his
powers of comprehension; and all this time, from being constantly engaged
in _thumbing_ the elementary books of the dead languages (which are never
at his _finger ends_, in the acceptation of the common phrase), he grows
up shamefully ignorant of his vernacular tongue, in which he can neither
read with fluency nor spell with correctness.

The schoolmaster, however, is expected to prepare him for the university
within a given time, and he must be _made up_ for entrance accordingly.
If the parents are told that Young Hopeful has no turn for a literary
life, no capacity for learning what is required, they doubt the judgment
of the informant, who tells them the truth; for the acknowledgment of
this would be an indirect admission of their own incapacity; and in
proportion to their ignorance and dullness, is their self assurance that
their booby has excellent abilities. The youth is therefore forced
forward in spite of his natural repugnance to books; and if afterwards
smuggled through the university into a profession which may give him
place or emolument, without ability or exertion on his part, he disgraces
his station by general ignorance and unfitness; and if he be admitted
into a profession which yields honour or emolument only in proportion to
talents and industry, he totally fails of the object, and it is
discovered too late that the selection of his avocation was in some way
_unlucky_.

Now, it is very probable that if such an every-day boy had been permitted
to pursue some track for which his inclinations qualified him, instead of
being limited to a course of unsuitable and distasteful occupations, he
might have acquired useful knowledge of some sort. For example, supposing
him to stumble at metrical "longs and shorts," or to be stuck between the
horns of a dilemma, or be lost amidst the mazes of metaphysics, he might
have that peculiar turn which would render him a good farmer, an
excellent judge of "long and short wools" or of "long and short horns,"
or that shrewdness which would render him a clever tradesman, a man

    "Who knows what's what, and that's as high
    As metaphysic wit doth fly."

And so certain am I that many young men who enter our university would
prefer and far better comprehend the plain and practical lecture of a
professor of agriculture, surrounded by models of machinery and plates of
cattle, &c., than lectures of a far more pretending character, that I
cannot avoid lamenting the deficiency in the department of agriculture
which Socrates designated "the nurse and mother of all the arts," and
Gibbon "the foundation of all manufactures."

The example afforded in this respect by the University of Edinburgh is
worthy of the imitation of Trinity College. To afford at least the
opportunities of gaining such information on this subject as the mind may
be capable of receiving or predisposed to receive, cannot but be deemed
judicious. And the theoretical knowledge of husbandry is incalculably
more needed by the gentry and middle classes of Ireland than by those of
the same grades in Scotland, where almost every land-proprietor and
farmer understands the subject more or less.

Far be it from me to decry the advantages of what is called learning, but
I would have a more diversified course, both in our schools _of every
class_, and in the universities, so as to comprehend those useful
branches of information, to which the student, if denied by Providence
the faculties requisite for the attainment of others, may apply himself
with pleasure or advantage.

I have met with many young persons of exceeding dullness in _book
learning_, of decided distaste to the pursuits of _literature_, who have
manifested a quick apprehension of _mechanical contrivances_, practically
exhibited a love of natural history, of gardening, of agriculture, of
something, in short, of a utilitarian character. If these tendencies had
been duly cultivated, the results would have been favourable to the
individuals themselves, and probably to the public also.

I have often been puzzled to account for the pre-eminence of the Scotch
as a clever and a _thinking_ people: it cannot be from atmospheric
influence; and I am disposed to question the correctness of the assertion
of a grave Caledonian, that the fine spirit of philosophical inquiry
which distinguishes his countrymen is mainly attributable to their use of
oatmeal porridge; it must rather be from well-directed education, from
the early acquired habit of _thinking for one's self_, and of giving _a
reason_ for every thing as far as they can, that the Scotch are so
intelligent and so fitted for their respective stations in the social
circle.

My own countrymen are _naturally_ as shrewd and intellectual as the
Scotch, but their minds are too generally ill disciplined, and school
education, for all classes, is too generally defective _every where_.
Several hours of the day are passed in wearisome restraint within the
walls of a schoolroom, in learning words without ideas, sounds without
sense; the mind being seldom engaged in the tasks with either pleasure or
profit.

And besides the impediments which obstruct the progress of useful
occupation, arising from the blindness of parents, the unfitness of
teachers, and the incapacity of pupils, there are to be encountered in
all schools the natural preference of idleness to any kind of systematic
occupation, the love of mischief and freaks, which prevail among
combinations of boys, and the difficulty of analysing character and
dispositions in crowded seminaries.

But in schools for the poor, where order and discipline are easily
enforced; in places of _private_ education, and under the paternal roof,
where, by far the greatest degree of happiness and simplicity of
character are enjoyed and preserved--in such cases, in which instructors
and parents are qualified to educate, a system of literary instruction,
combining with it relaxation of a useful kind, may be pursued.

Among the latter I would place gardening and botany foremost among the
out-of-door occupations, and these pursuits apply to both sexes, and to
the humblest of the peasantry, as well as to the nobles of the land, for
with the idea of a garden is connected every association that is pure and
heaven-born. I myself even now look back upon those of my childish hours
which were employed in the garden, with unmixed pleasure, and the first
early crop of radishes which I raised with my own hands in a garden
border, afforded me more innocent pride than any far more valuable crop
that I have subsequently raised upon my farm. The care of flowers and
shrubs, and the absence of corrupting influences, during the indulgence
of this pursuit, render it a subject of extreme interest in the formation
of individual and national character.

Those of the poor who are disposed to take a real interest in their
gardens as is the case of thousands of the English peasantry, instead of
finding their summer evening occupations in their allotments wearisome
after their day of other toil, seem to find relaxation in the
comparatively light work which they thus perform for _themselves_; and in
the pleasurable contemplation of their own flowers, though they be but
_common_ beauties, and of their own tiny crops, they feel that calmness
and tranquillity, that quiet satisfaction, which lay the passions at
rest, and therefore indispose for the boisterous mirth and the ungodly
society of the frequenters of the beer-house or the gin-shop.

Poultry, pigeons, and rabbits, may be reared by young people, both for
amusement and profit. The child who understands much of the natural
history of domestic animals from practical observation, and perceives the
force of those influences which unite the parent and the offspring, will
so far sympathize with, and apprehend the nature of, those influences, as
to feel pain at the thought of wantonly dissociating that connection, and
would be far less likely "to rob the poor birds of their young," than the
child who had not been familiarized with the nature and habits of the
feathered race.

Children who have watched over a brood of chickens from the moment of
their first disengagement from the shell, and witnessed the instinct with
which the Creator causes them to come at the call of their mother, and
contemplate the love with which "the hen gathers her chickens under her
wings," will take no pleasure in destroying that life of which they had
anxiously traced the progress from the hour in which the first sign of
developed animation appeared. It is improbable that the boy (and far more
so that the girl, who is naturally kind) to whose hand the birds have
fearlessly looked for food, while they clamorously delighted in his
presence, could in his manhood witness any torturing of the feathered
race, such as the diabolical barbarity of throwing at cocks on Shrove
Tuesday, which used to disgrace Great Britain; or take pleasure in the
barbarities of a cock-fight[A] or a gander-fight.[B]

For those who are excluded from the enjoyments of rural life, and those
occupations to which I have referred, there remain other pursuits of
extreme interest, according to their respective tastes--geology,
chemistry, mechanics, which employ both the head and the hand. Many a
youth may be taught "sermons in stones," &c.--see the quotation in
Shakspeare, _As You Like It_--and be kept from bad company, by having
access to a lathe, and becoming practically "a tool-making animal," who,
from his distaste to books, would be otherwise miserably destitute of
rational employment. I do not wish to see either young or old persons too
much

    "Agog for novelty where'er it lies,
    In mosses, fleas, or cockleshells, or flies"--

But natural history, to a reasonable extent, is surely a useful and
improving study for both rich and poor; it leads them to look from the
creature to the Creator; to contemplate His works, His glories, and His
beneficent _designs_, both in the material and the spiritual world. In
short, I would supply the mind and body with those occupations which best
harmonise together, and most powerfully tend to overcome the degrading
and demoralising effects of ignorance, which is confessedly the greatest
enemy to religion, to peace, good order, and social happiness.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] We learn from a German writer the origin of this cruel custom. When
the Danes ruled In England, the native inhabitants of some town formed a
conspiracy to regain possession of it by murdering the Danish usurpers.
Their design, however, was defeated by the crowing of some cocks. When
the English afterwards regained authority, they instituted the barbarous
and childishly resentful practice of throwing at cocks tied to a stake on
the commemoration day of their disappointment through the vigilance of
the cocks.

[B] "At St Petersburgh, in Russia (says Dr Granville), they have no
cock-pits; but they have a goose-pit, where in the spring they fight
ganders trained to the sport, and to peck at each other's shoulders till
they draw blood. These ganders have been sold as high as five hundred
roubles each; and the sport prevails to a degree of enthusiasm among the
hemp-merchants. Strange that the vicious and inhuman curiosity of man can
delight to arouse and stimulate the principles of enmity and cruelty in
these apparently peaceful and sociable birds!

The barbarities of which the human character is capable from habitual
indulgence in such brutal sports are almost inconceivable.

Every one has heard the horrible story of Ardesolf of Tottenham, who,
about forty years since, bring disappointed by a famous game-cock
refusing to fight, was incited by his savage passion to roast the animal
alive whilst entertaining his friends. The company, alarmed by the
dreadful shrieks of the victim, interfered, but were resisted by
Ardesolf, who threatened death to any who should oppose him; and in a
storm of raging and vindictive delirium, and uttering the most horrid
imprecations, he dropped down dead. I had hoped to find this one among
the thousand fanatical lies which have been coined in the insane
expectation that truth can be advanced by the propagation of falsehood;
but to my sorrowful disappointment, on a late inquiry among the friends
of the deceased miscreant, I found the truth of the horrible story but
too probable."--_Mowbray's Treatise on Poultry._




ALEXANDER AND THE TREE.

     "From this tree it was that the Voice came which spake of old
     to Iskander (Alexander the Great), saying, as an oracle,
     'Iskander indeed cometh into India, but goeth from thence into
     the Land of Darkness.'"--_Apocryphal History of Alexander the
     Great._


    The sun is bright, the air is bland,
      The heavens wear that stainless blue
    Which only in an Orient land
      The eye of man may view;
    And lo! around, and all abroad,
      A glittering host, a mighty horde--
    And at their head a demigod
      Who slays with lightning-sword!

    The bright noon burns, but idly now
      Those warriors rest by copse and hill,
    And shadows on their Leader's brow
      Seem ominous of ill:
    Spell-bound, he stands beside a tree,
      And well he may, for through its leaves
    Unstirred by wind, come brokenly
      Moans, as of one that grieves!

    How strange! he thought:--Life is a boon
      Given, and resumed--but _how_? and _when_?
    But now I asked myself how soon
      I should go home agen!
    How soon I might once more behold
      My mourning mother's tearful face;
    How soon my kindred might enfold
      Me in their dear embrace!

    There was an Indian Magian there--
      And, stepping forth, he bent his knee:
    "Oh, king!" he said, "be wise!--beware
      This too prophetic tree!"
    "Ha!" cried the king, "thou knowest, then, Seer,
      What yon strange oracle reveals?"
    "Alas!" the Magian said, "I hear
      Deep words, like thunder-peals!

    "I hear the groans of more than Man,
      Hear tones that warn, denounce, beseech;
    Hear--woe is me!--how darkly ran
      That stream of thrilling speech!
    'Oh, king,' it spake, 'all-trampling king!
      Thou leadest legions from afar--
    But Battle droops his clotted wing!
      Night menaces thy star!

    "'Fond visions of thy boyhood's years
      Dawn like dim light upon thy soul;
    Thou seest again thy mother's tears
      Which Love could not control!
    Ah! thy career in sooth is run!
      Ah! thou indeed returnest home!
    The Mother waits to clasp her son
      Low in her lampless dome!

    "'Yet go, rejoicing! He who reigns
      O'er Earth alone leaves worlds unscanned;
    Life binds the spirit as with chains;
      Seek thou the Phantom-land!
    Leave Conquest all it looks for here--
      Leave willing slaves a bloody throne--
    Thine henceforth is another sphere,
      Death's realm, the dark Unknown!'"

    The Magian paused; the leaves were hushed,
      But wailings broke from all around,
    Until the Chief, whose red blood flushed
      His cheek with hotter bound.
    Asked, in the tones of one with whom
      Fear never yet had been a guest--
    "And when doth Fate achieve my doom?
      And where shall be my rest?"

    "Oh, noble heart!" the Magian said,
      And tears unbidden filled his eyes,
    "We should not weep for thee!--the Dead
      Change but their home and skies:
    The moon shall beam, the myrtles bloom
      For thee no more--yet sorrow not!
    The immortal pomp of Hades' gloom
      Best consecrates thy lot.

    In June, in June, in laughing June,
      And where the dells show deepest green,
    Pavilioned overhead, at noon,
      With gold and silken sheen--
    These be for thee--the place, the time;
      Trust not thy heart, trust not thine eyes,
    Behind the Mount thy warm hopes climb,
      The Land of Darkness lies!"

    Unblenching at the fateful words,
      The Hero turned around in haste--
    "On! on!" he cried, "ye million swords,
      Your course, like mine, is traced;
    Let me but close Life's narrow span
      Where weapons clash and banners wave;
    I would not live to mourn that Man
      But conquers for a grave!"

    M.




APOLOGUES AND FABLES,

IN PROSE AND VERSE, FROM THE GERMAN AND OTHER LANGUAGES.

(_Translated for the Irish Penny Journal._)


No. II.--THE THREE RINGS.

In the reign of the Sultan Sal-ad-Deen there lived in the city of
Damascus a Jew called Nathaniel, who was pre-eminently distinguished
among his fellow-citizens for his wisdom, his liberality of mind, the
goodness of his disposition, and the urbanity of his manners, so that he
had acquired the esteem even of those among the Mooslemin who were
accounted the strictest adherents to the exclusive tenets of the
Mahommedan creed. From being generally talked of by the common people, he
came gradually to attract the notice of the higher classes, until the
sultan himself, hearing so much of the man, became curious to learn how
it was that so excellent and intelligent a person could reconcile it with
his conscience to live and die in the errors of Judaism. With the view of
satisfying himself on the subject, he at length resolved on condescending
to a personal interview with the Jew, and accordingly one day ordered him
to be summoned before him.

The Jew, in obedience to the imperial mandate, presented himself at the
palace gates, and was forthwith ushered, amid guards and slaves
innumerable, into the presence of the august Sal-ad-Deen, Light of the
World, Protector of the Universe, and Keeper of the Portals of Paradise;
who, however, being graciously determined that the lightning of his
glances should not annihilate the Israelite, had caused his face to be
covered on the occasion with a magnificent veil, through the golden
gauze-work of which he could carry on at his ease his own examination of
his visitor's features.

"Men talk highly of thee, Nathaniel," said the sultan, after he had
commanded the Jew to seat himself on the carpet; "they praise thy virtue,
thy integrity, thy understanding, beyond those of the sons of Adam. Yet
thou professest a false religion, and showest no sign of a disposition to
embrace the true one. How is this obstinacy of thine reconcilable with
the wisdom and moderation for which the true believers give thee credit?"

"If I profess a false religion, your highness," returned the Jew
modestly, "it is because I have never been able to distinguish infallibly
between false religions and true. I adhere to the faith of my fathers."

"The idolaters do so no less than thou," said Sal-ad-Deen, "but their
blindness is wilful, and so is thine. Dost thou mean to say that all
religions are upon the same level in the sight of the God of Truth?"

"Not so, assuredly," answered Nathaniel: "Truth is but one; and there can
be but one true religion. That is a simple and obvious axiom, the
correctness of which I have never sought to controvert."

"Spoken like a wise man!" cried the sultan;--"that is," he added, "if the
religion to which thou alludest be Islamism, as it must be of course.
Come: I know thou art favourably inclined towards the truth; thou hast an
honest countenance: declare openly the conviction at which thou must have
long since arrived, that they who believe in the Koran are the sole
inheritors of Paradise. Is not that thy unhesitating persuasion?"

"Will your highness pardon me," said the Jew, "if, instead of answering
you directly, I narrate to you a parable bearing upon this subject, and
leave you to draw from it such inferences as may please you?"

"I am satisfied to hear thee," said the sultan after a pause; "only let
there be no sophistry in the argument of thy narrative. Make the story
short also, for I hate long tales about nothing."

The Jew, thus licensed, began:--"May it please your highness," said he,
"there lived in Assyria, in one of the ages of old, a certain man who had
received from a venerated hand a beautiful and valuable ring, the stone
of which was an opal, and sparkled in the sunlight with ever-varying
hues. This ring, moreover, was a talisman, and had the secret power of
rendering him who wore it with a sincere desire of benefiting by it,
acceptable and amiable in the eyes of both God and man. It is not
therefore to be wondered at, that the owner continually wore it during
his lifetime, never taking it off his finger for an instant, or that,
when dying, he should adopt precautions to secure it to his lineal
descendants for ever. He bequeathed it accordingly first to the most
beloved of his sons, ordaining that by him it should be again bequeathed
to the dearest of _his_ offspring, and so down from generation to
generation, no one having a claim in right of priority of birth, but
preference being given to the favourite son, who, by virtue of the ring,
should rule unconstrained as lord of the house and head of the family.
Your highness listens?"

"I listen: I understand: proceed," said the sultan.

The Jew resumed:--"Well: from son to son this ring at length descended to
a father who had three sons, all of them alike remarkable for their
goodness of disposition, all equally prompt in anticipating his wishes,
all equally loving and virtuous, and between whom, therefore, he found it
difficult to make any distinction in the paternal affection he bore them.
Sometimes he thought the eldest the most deserving; anon his
predilections varied in favour of the second; and by and bye his heart
was drawn towards the youngest:--in short, he could make no choice. What
added to his embarrassment was, that, yielding to a good-natured
weakness, he had privately promised each of the youths to leave the ring
to him, and him only; and how to keep his promise, he did not know.
Matters, however, went on smoothly enough for a season; but at last death
approached, and the worthy father became painfully perplexed. What was to
be done? Loving his sons, as he did, all alike, could he inflict so
bitter a disappointment upon two of them as the loss of the ring would
certainly prove to them? He was unable to bear the reflection. After long
pondering, a plan occurred to him, the anticipated good effects of which
would, he trusted, more than compensate for the deceit connected with it.
He sent secretly for a clever jeweller; and, showing him the ring, he
desired him to make two other rings on the same model, and to spare
neither pains nor cost to render the three exactly alike. The jeweller
promised, and kept his promise: the rings were finished, and in so
perfect a manner that even the father's eye could not distinguish between
them as far as mere external appearance went. Overjoyed beyond expression
at this unlooked-for consummation of his wishes, he summoned his three
sons in succession into his presence, and from his deathbed bestowed upon
each, apart from the other two, his last blessing and one of the rings;
after which, being at his own desire left once more alone, he resigned
his spirit tranquilly into the hands of its eternal Author. Is your
highness attentive?"

"I am," said Sal-ad-Deen, "but to very little purpose, it would seem.
Make an end of thy story quickly, that I may see the drift of it."

"It is soon ended, most powerful sultan," said Nathaniel, "for all that
remains to be told is what doubtless your highness already half
conjectures--the result, namely, of this good-natured deception. Scarce
was the old man laid in his grave, when each of the sons produced his
ring, and claimed the right of being sole master and lord of the house.
Questions, wranglings, complaints, accusations, succeeded--all to no end,
however; for the difficulty of discovering which was the true ring was as
great then as that of discovering which is the true faith now."

"How!" interrupted the sultan indignantly, "this to me? Dost thou tell me
that the faith of the Mooslemin is not acknowledged by all right-thinking
persons to be the true one?"

"May it please your highness," said the Jew, calmly, "I am here at your
own command, and I answer your questions according to the best of my poor
ability. If the allegory I relate be objectionable, it is for the sultan
to find fault with it alone, and not with the reflections which it must
necessarily suggest."

"And dost thou mean, then, that thy paltry tale shall serve as a full
answer to my query?" demanded Sal-ad-Deen.

"No, your highness," said Nathaniel, "but I would have it serve as my
apology for not giving such an answer. The father of these youths caused
the three rings to be made expressly that no examination might be able to
detect any dissimilarity between them; and I will venture to assert, that
not even the Sublimest of Mankind, the Sultan Sal-ad-Deen himself, could,
unless by accident, have placed his hand on the true one."

"Thou triflest with me, Nathaniel," said the sultan; "a ring is not a
religion. There are, it is true, many modes of worship on the earth: but
has not Islamism always remained a distinct system of faith from the
false creeds? Look at its dogmas, its ceremonies, the modes of prayer,
the habits, yea, the very food and raiment of its professors! What sayest
thou of these?"

"Simply," returned the Jew, "that none of them are proofs of the truth of
Islamism. Nay, be not wroth with me, your highness, for what I say of
your religion I say equally of all others. There is one true religion, as
there was one true ring in my parable; but you must have perceived that
all men are not alike capable of discovering the truth by their own
unassisted efforts, and that a certain degree of trust in the good faith
of others as teachers is therefore essential to the reception of
religious belief at all. In whom, then, I would ask, is it most natural
for us to place our trust? Surely in our own people--in those of whose
blood we are--who have been about us from our childhood, and given us
unnumbered proofs of love--and who have never been guilty of
intentionally practising deception upon us. How can I ask of you to
abandon the prepossessions of your fathers before you, and in which, true
or false, you have been nurtured? Or how can you expect, that, in order
to yield to your teachers the praise belonging solely to the truth, I
should virtually declare my ancestors fools or hypocrites?"

"Sophistical declamation!" said the sultan, "which will avail thee little
on the Judgment Day. Is thy parable ended?"

"In point of instruction it is," replied Nathaniel, "but I shall briefly
relate the conclusion to which the disputes among the brothers conducted.
When they found agreement impossible, they mutually cited one another
before the tribunal or the law. Each of them solemnly swore that he had
received a ring immediately from his father's hand--as was the
fact--after having obtained his father's promise to bestow it on him, as
was also the fact. Each of them indignantly repudiated the supposition
that such a father could have deceived him; and each declared, that,
unwilling as he was to think uncharitably of his own brethren, he had no
alternative left but that of branding them as impostors, forgers, and
swindlers."

"And what said the judge?" demanded Sal-ad-Deen; "I presume the final
decision of the question hung upon his arbitration?"

"Your highness is correct: the judge at once pronounced his award, which
was definitive. 'You want,' said he, 'a satisfactory adjudication on this
question, which you have contested among yourselves so long and so
fruitlessly. Summon then your father before me: call him from the dead
and let him speak; it is otherwise impracticable for me to come at the
knowledge of his intentions. Do you think that I sit here for the purpose
of expounding riddles and reconciling contradictions? Or do you, perhaps,
expect that the true ring will by some miracle be compelled to bear oral
testimony here in court to its own genuineness? But hold: I understand
that the ring is endowed with the occult power of rendering its wearer
amiable and faultless in the eyes of men. By that test I am willing to
try it, and so to pronounce judgment. Which of you three, then, is the
greatest object of love to the other two? You are silent. What! does this
ring, which should awaken love in all, act with an inward influence only,
not an outward? Does each of you love only himself? Oh, go! you are all
alike deceivers or deceived: none of your rings is the true one. The true
ring is probably lost; and to supply its place your father ordered three
spurious ones for common use among you. If you will abide by a piece of
advice instead of a formal decision, here is my counsel to you: leave the
matter where it stands. If each of you has had a ring presented to him by
his father, let each believe his own to be the real ring. Possibly your
father might have grown disinclined to tolerate any longer the
exclusiveness implied in the possession of a single ring by one member of
a family; and, certainly, as he loved you all with the same affection, it
could not gratify him to appear the oppressor of two by favouring one in
particular. Let each of you therefore feel honoured by this all-embracing
generosity of your parent; let each of you endeavour to outshine his
brothers in the cultivation of every virtue which the ring is presumed to
confer--assisting the mysterious influence supposed to reside in it by
habits of gentleness, benevolence, and mutual tolerance, and by
resignation in all things to the will of God; and if the virtues of the
ring continue to manifest themselves in your children, and your
children's children, and their descendants to the hundredth generation,
then, after the lapse of thousands of years, appear again and for the
last time before this judgment seat! A Greater than I will then occupy
it, and He will decide this controversy for ever.' So spake the upright
judge, and broke up the court. Your highness now, I trust, thoroughly
comprehends my reason for not answering your question in a direct
manner?"

"Is that the end of thy story?" asked Sal-ad-Deen.

"If it please your highness," said the Jew, who had by this time arisen,
and was gradually, though respectfully, proceeding to accomplish his
retreat.

"By my beard," said the sultan, after a considerable pause, "it is an
ingenious apologue that of thine, and there may be something in it too;
but still it does not persuade me that thou art excusable in thy
pertinacious rejection of Islamism. I own I tremble for thee after all.
Go thy ways, however, for the present, with this purse of tomauns, by way
of premium for thy mother-wit; but I shall shortly send for thee again;
and as I do not much fancy remaining in any man's debt, thou shalt then,
as a wholesome counterpoise to thy sophistry, obtain from me in reply
either a parable of my own, or one from the Koran, upon which I will
argue with thee to thy signal confusion!"

    M.




ANECDOTES OF MACKLIN,

THE IRISH COMEDIAN.


Macklin was exceedingly quick at a reply, especially in a dispute. One
day Doctor Johnson was contending some dramatical question, and quoted a
passage from a Greek poet in support of his opinion. "I don't understand
Greek though, Doctor," said Macklin. "Sir," said Johnson, pompously, "a
man who undertakes to argue, should understand all languages." "Oh, very
well," returned Macklin; "how will you answer this argument?" and
immediately treated him to a long quotation in Irish.

One night, sitting at the back of the front boxes with a gentleman of his
acquaintance, one of the underbred box-lobby loungers of the day stood up
immediately before him, and being rather large in person, covered the
sight of the stage from him. Every body expected that Macklin would have
knocked the fellow down notwithstanding his size, but he managed the
matter in another temper. Patting him gently on the shoulder with his
cane, he respected of him with much apparent politeness, "that when he
saw or heard any thing _very_ entertaining on the stage, he would be
pleased to turn round and let him and the gentleman beside him know of
it; for you see, my dear sir," added the veteran, "that at present we
must totally depend upon you as a telegraph." This had the desired
effect, and the lounger walked off.

Talking of the caution necessary to be used in conversation amongst a
mixed company, Macklin observed, "Sir, I have experienced to my cost that
a man in any situation of life should never be off his guard. It is the
fault of the Irish that they are too ready to 'commit' themselves. Now,
this never happens with the Scotch:--a Scotchman is always on the
look-out; he never lives a moment _extempore_, and that is one great
reason why he is so successful in life as we see."

Macklin was very intimate with Frank Hayman (at that time one of our best
historical painters), and happening to call on him one morning soon after
the death of the painter's wife, with whom he (Frank) had lived but on
indifferent terms, he found him wrangling with the undertaker about his
high charge for the funeral expenses. Macklin listened to the altercation
for some time; at last, going up to Hayman--"Come, come, Frank," said he,
"this bill is to be sure a little extravagant, but you should pay it, if
it were only on account of the respect you owe your wife's memory; for I
am sure," he added with the greatest gravity, "she would have paid twice
as much for your burial with the greatest gladness, if she had had the
opportunity."

A notorious egotist one day in a large company, indirectly praising
himself for a number of good qualities which it was well known he did not
possess, asked Macklin the reason why he should have the singular
propensity of interfering in the concerns of others for their benefit,
when he so often met with unsuitable returns. "I could tell you, sir,"
said Macklin. "Ah! well do, then, my good fellow; you are a man of some
observation; and--I--a--should be glad of your--a--definition." "Why,
then, sir," replied Macklin, "the cause is _impudence_--nothing but stark
staring _impudence_!"

A gentleman at a public dinner asking him, rather inconsiderately,
whether he remembered Mrs Barry the celebrated Irish actress, who died
about the latter end of Queen Anne's reign, he stared him in the face
with considerable ferocity, and bawled out, "No, sir, nor Harry the
Eighth neither!"

An Irish dignitary of the church, not remarkable for his veracity,
complaining that a tradesman of his parish had called him a liar, Macklin
asked what reply he had made him. "I told him," said the bishop, "that a
lie was among those things that I _dared_ not commit." "And why, doctor,"
returned Macklin, with an indescribable sort of comic frown, "why did you
give the rascal _so erroneous a notion of your courage_?"

One of the band of the Covent-Garden theatre, who played the French horn,
was telling some anecdotes of Garrick's curiosity, and withal praising
the great actor incessantly. Macklin, who heard him from the lower end of
the table, and who always fired up like lighted straw at the praises of
Garrick, exclaimed aloud, "I believe, sir, you are a trumpeter." "Well,"
said the band-man, "and what if I am?" "Nothing more, sir," vociferated
Macklin, "than this, that, being a trumpeter, you are by profession a
dealer in _puffs_!"




BAD AIR AND GOOD AIR.


In a former number we directed attention to the many remarkable
properties of the air we breathe, and pointed out how dependent we are
for comfort and even existence on the maintenance of the air in a state
fit for respiration. The difference between good air and bad air can be
easily collected from that article; but as the peculiar conditions of the
air which are capable of affecting health deserve very careful
consideration, we are tempted to resume the subject.

The even balance which, as was explained, is struck between the two sorts
of breathing, that of the animal which gives out carbonic acid, and that
of the vegetable which takes it in, is capable of maintaining the air
upon the large scale always in the proper state. But in order that the
people may be benefited by this wise arrangement, it is necessary that
they should be living abroad in the open air and in the fields; that a
man, in proportion as he destroys the oxygen of the air, should have
around him plants to give out an equal quantity in its place; that, in
fact, mankind, in order to avail themselves of the providential security
for breathing permanently good air, should live out of doors, engaged, at
least principally, in agricultural employments, as was the condition of
society in the early ages, and in some portions of the globe to a certain
extent is so still.

But in countries like ours, where vast numbers of families are collected
in cities, with narrow streets and lanes; where an open place like
Stephen's Green or Merrion Square is anxiously sought after, and
disproportionate rents paid for the houses which are around it, this
immediate restoration of the injury done to the air by breathing, and the
burning of lights and fuel, cannot occur. The air is vitiated
permanently, and those resident in towns require for their health's sake
to understand how the evil may be rendered as small as possible. Even in
a town, the total quantity of air is so great, that if it all come into
play, it can be but slightly injured. But such is often not the case. How
often, when there is a fine healthful breeze outside the town, do we
find, on entering a narrow street, the mass of air perfectly motionless,
and all the mischievous vapours which are produced, collecting until they
become almost irrespirable. This is a great source of disease in towns;
and to prevent or remedy it, requires but frequent change of the air
which a room or a street contains: it requires but ventilation.

It is by means of a fireplace that a room is generally ventilated. The
air which has served for the burning of the fuel is thereby made very
hot, and hot air, being much lighter than cold air, rises up the chimney,
generally mixed with soot, and is then called smoke. According as the
hot air leaves the room, cold air enters to supply its place through the
open doors or windows, or, if these be closed, through every little
crevice which can give it passage. There is thus produced a rapid current
of air, or draught, as it is termed. The air vitiated by the breathing of
persons in the room is carried away along with that vitiated by the fire,
and at any one moment the air in the room is found to be almost
completely pure. It is therefore to proper ventilation that the
inhabitants of towns must look for the maintenance of health. Disregard
to this precaution has been the means of increasing to a frightful extent
the mortality of large cities, and instances have been given, where an
infectious disease, which had ravaged a number of low and confined
streets in a large English town, stopped suddenly, and avoided a street
otherwise no better than the rest, but which had been kept clean, and the
rooms ventilated, by the exertions of some well-informed persons. For the
preservation of the health of the poorer classes in large towns, medicine
is of far less importance than cleanliness and ventilation.

We are sure, however, that many of our intelligent readers are ready now
to start an objection to the account just given of the cause of bad air
in cities. If the air of a city be injured by the large quantity of
carbonic acid which is formed, a city should be the best place possible
for the health of vegetables. If the air which is bad for man be good for
plants, the vegetation in a confined street should surpass, in brilliancy
and verdure, that of the most open and best attended gardens. It is true,
unfortunately, that the only produce of our once industrious Liberty is
now the grass which is growing in the seats of former bustle; but we have
not even the satisfaction of knowing that that flourishes. It is pale,
sickly, and stunted; for the air of the city is vitiated by causes
different from that which alone has hitherto occupied us, and these
causes are as injurious to plants as to man. The carbon of our fuel
produces, in burning, carbonic acid, but carbon is not the only substance
in ordinary fuel. Most coals contain sulphur, and in burning, this body
produces sulphurous acid, also a gas, which is highly irritating and
poisonous, particularly to plants, and which, mixing with the air,
renders the city as injurious to the organization of a plant as the
carbonic acid to the respiration of an animal.

To render air fit for respiration, it is necessary to do more than keep
the proper quantity of oxygen in it; the carbonic acid must be taken
away. Plants, our readers have already remarked, do both, and hence the
admirable fitness of external nature to the objects for which the Creator
has designed it. If the carbonic acid were not taken away, all animals
would be poisoned, even if the proper quantity of oxygen remained, for
carbonic acid is a positive poison, which kills by acting on the brain
like opium. A person can live, breathing with only one lung; in the
disease of consumption, an individual may live for months with only one
lung, or even only part of a lung, remaining fit for use; but if
perfectly good air be breathed with one lung, and carbonic acid with the
other, the person will be poisoned after a very short time; consequently,
it is of great importance to prevent the accumulation of carbonic acid,
even where it is not produced at the expense of the oxygen of the air.

Carbonic acid is indeed produced in a great variety of ways, besides by
animals in breathing, and fuel in burning. It is remarkable that it is
only the green parts of plants which breathe as has been described; the
leaves and stems giving out oxygen, and absorbing carbonic acid. The
flowers and the ripe fruits of plants act on the air in the same way as
animals, and hence deteriorate it; and the rooms where stores of fruit
are kept, are known to be very unwholesome, and persons have been
suffocated by sleeping in a room where there was a very great quantity of
flowers. Oils, particularly drying oil, and spirit of turpentine, act on
air also, absorbing oxygen and giving out carbonic acid; and the air of a
newly painted house, if the doors and windows are kept close, is
consequently found to be very unfit for respiration. In many countries,
particularly where there are burning mountains, carbonic acid is given
off from the ground, and it collects in every hollow or cave, in
consequence of being much heavier than the air. There is a cave in Italy,
called the Dog's Grotto, because a dog on entering it is instantly
suffocated, though a man may walk in without injury. The cause is, that
the cave is filled up by carbonic acid to about four feet deep; a dog, or
any animal that holds its head lower than that height, breathes carbonic
acid and is choked, but a man breathes the pure air which is above it,
and escapes. In deep dry wells which have been neglected, carbonic acid
accumulates, and workmen who go down to clean the pit are sometimes
suffocated. In such cases a candle should first be let down, and if it
burns, the air is fit to breathe. If the candle be extinguished, it is
unsafe for an individual to descend.

In the Island of Java, however, perhaps the most remarkable collection of
carbonic acid is to be found. On the summit of the highest mountain there
is a circular valley of considerable depth, and presenting to the eye a
spectacle combining the utmost beauty and horror. The sides of the valley
are clothed with the richest perennial verdure of the tropics; all the
plants which grow on that fine island are there found of surpassing
magnitude and beauty, but intermixed with the skeletons of tigers,
wolves, and men. There is no living animal. The greatest developement of
vegetable life goes hand in hand with absolute destruction to all animal
existence. The natives call this place _the Valley of Death_. It is the
crater of an extinct volcano. From its bottom issue perpetually watery
vapour and carbonic acid, the elements which clothe its sides with
vegetable riches; but the whole being an invisible lake of carbonic acid,
proves instant destruction to the unwary animal that passes over its
brink. Some deserters from an English regiment concealed themselves in
it, and their bodies, seen through the transparent but deadly gas by
which they were surrounded, verified a fact which had been previously
suspected to be a fable of the natives.

In the fermentation of corn, for making malt liquors or ardent spirits, a
large quantity of carbonic acid is generated, and workmen who heedlessly
descend into the vats to cleanse them, are very often suffocated. The
trial by a lighted candle should never in such cases be omitted. In the
burning of lime there is a very large proportion of carbonic acid set
free; and poor persons who are tempted to sleep on the platform of a
lime-kiln for the sake of the warmth it affords, are sometimes suffocated
by the vitiated air they breathe.

The air, so far as regards its influence on health, is modified in a very
important manner by causes which are not so positively known and measured
as those we have hitherto examined. The spreading of odours through the
air, whether they be the "spicy gales of Araby the blest," or the more
unwelcome indications of putrescent matter, takes place by means of
quantities of substances so small as to defy the powers of detection we
possess. Many diseases, it is well established, arise from the formation
and diffusion through the air of peculiar poisons in amazingly small
quantity. Thus ague is produced by a specific poison generated in
marshes. These poisons resemble other ordinary poisons, inasmuch as we
can decompose them, and thus destroy their power. The chemical substance
chlorine decomposes almost every vegetable or animal material that it
touches. Thus it destroys all colours, and is hence of the greatest use
in bleaching; it also destroys all atmospheric poisons, and,
consequently, in hospitals and in private houses it is used to disinfect
or prevent the spreading of disease, by decomposing the material which
conveys it through the air.

For change of air we therefore, with reason, go to the country when we
can; but whether to the sea side or to the interior, to Enniskerry or
Kingstown, is not dependent on the nature of the air. Wherever the
invalid finds most amusement, and agreeable occupation which does not
fatigue; wherever the beauty of scenery, and the society of those to whom
the heart is bound in ties of mutual esteem and love, present to the mind
of one harassed by intense exertion of thought, or broken down by disease
of body, a relief in admiration of the wisdom and goodness of his
Creator, and in sympathy and kindliness towards his fellow men, the
atmosphere is clearest; the bracing, enlivening influence of the pure
country air is the most sensible, and the mind and body are most
effectually restored to the condition of perfect health.




IRELAND FOR EVER! AND KILMAINHAM TO THE DEVIL!--Mr Egan, better known as
"Bully Egan," held the chairmanship of Kilmainham at the time that the
government were using their utmost endeavours to pass the Act of Union,
and, of course, expected to be deprived of his office if he should oppose
it. However, when the time for the division had arrived, his love of
country preponderating over his love of self, he voted against the
measure, exultingly exclaiming, "Ireland for ever! and Kilmainham to the
devil!"




PERSEVERANCE.


Perseverance in the steady pursuit of a laudable and lawful object, is
almost a sure path to eminence. It is a thing which seems to be inherent
in some, but it may be cultivated in all. Even those children who seem to
be either indolent like the sloth, or changeful as the butterfly, by the
skilful training of a watchful parent, may be endowed with the habit of
perseverance. The following anecdotes may aid in illustrating to youth
the nature and value of this virtue. The celebrated Timour the Tartar,
after a series of the most brilliant victories, was at length conquered
and made captive. Though confined in a prison, whose massive walls and
thick iron bars discouraged every attempt to escape, he still strove at
each chink and crevice to find some way of deliverance. At length, weary
and dispirited, he sat down in a corner of his gloomy prison, and gave
himself up to despair. While brooding over his sorrows, an ant, with a
piece of wood thrice as large as itself, attracted his attention. The
insect seemed desirous to ascend the perpendicular face of the wall, and
made several attempts to effect it. But after reaching a little
elevation, it came to a jutting angle of the stone, and fell backward to
the floor. But again, again, and again the attempt was renewed. The
monarch watched the struggles of the insect, and in the interest thus
excited forgot his own condition. The ant persevered, and at the sixtieth
trial surmounted the obstacle. Timour sprang to his feet, exclaiming, "I
will never despair--perseverance conquers all things!"

A similar anecdote is told of Robert Bruce, the restorer of the Scottish
monarchy. Being out on an expedition to reconnoitre the enemy, he had
occasion to sleep at night in a barn. In the morning, still reclining his
head on a pillow of straw, he beheld a spider climbing up a beam of the
roof. The insect fell to the ground, but immediately made a second essay
to ascend. This attracted the notice of the hero, who with regret saw the
spider fall a second time from the same eminence. It made a third
unsuccessful attempt. Not without a mixture of concern and curiosity, the
monarch twelve times beheld the insect baffled in its aim; but the
thirteenth essay was crowned with success. It gained the summit of the
barn; and the king, starting from his couch, exclaimed, "This despicable
insect has taught me perseverance! I will follow its example. Have I not
been twelve times defeated by the enemy's superior force? On one fight
more hangs the independence of my country!" In a few days his
anticipations were fully realised, by the glorious result, to Scotland,
of the battle of Bannockburn.

A few years since, while travelling in an adjacent state, I came to a
little valley, surrounded by rocky and precipitous hills. In that valley
was a single house. It was old, and, by its irregularity of form, seemed
to have been built at various periods. It was, however, in good
condition, and bespoke thrift and comfort. Not a shingle was missing from
the roof, no dangling clapboards disfigured its sides, no unhinged blinds
swung idly in the wind, no old hats were thrust through the windows. All
around was tidy and well-conditioned. The woodhouse was stored with tall
ranges of hickory, the barns were ample, and stacks of hay without
declared that it was full within. The soil around, as I have said, was
rocky, but cultivation had rendered it fertile. Thriving orchards, rich
pastures and prolific meadows, occupied the bed of the valley and the
rugged sides of the hills. I was struck with the scene, and when I
reached a village at the distance of two or three miles, I made some
inquiries, where I learnt the story of the proprietor. He was originally
a poor boy, and wholly dependent upon his own exertions. He was brought
up as a farmer, and began life as a day labourer. In childhood he had
read that "procrastination is the thief of time." He did not at first
understand its meaning, and pondered long upon this desperate thief who
bore the formidable title of PROCRASTINATION. It was at length explained
to him; but the struggles he had made to comprehend the adage fixed it
deep in his mind. He often thought of it, and, feeling its force, it
became the ruling maxim of his life. Following its dictates with
inflexible _perseverance_, he at length became proprietor of the little
valley I have described. Year by year it improved under his care, and at
the period of which I am speaking, he was supposed to be worth at least
twenty thousand dollars.

Such is the force of perseverance. It gives power to weakness, and opens
to poverty the world's wealth. It spreads fertility over the barren
landscape, and bids the choicest fruits and flowers spring up and
flourish in the desert abode of thorns and briars. Look at Boston! Where
are the three hills which first met the view of the pilgrims as they
sailed up its bay? Their tops are shorn down by man's perseverance. Look
at the granite hills of Quincy? Proudly anchored in the bosom of the
earth, they seem to defy the puny efforts of man, but they are yielding
to man's perseverance. Forbidden and hopeless as they would appear to the
eye of indolence and weakness, they are better than the treasures of Peru
and the gem-strewn mountains of Brazil, to a people endowed with the
hardy spirit of perseverance! They are better, for, while they enable
them to command the precious metals yielded by other climes, they cherish
a spirit and a power which all the gold of Golconda could not
purchase.--_Fireside Education, by S. G. Goodrich._




LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP.


"Look before you leap," is an advice applicable to many circumstances of
human life, besides the mere examination of the locality in which, on
which, or over which, you are about to exhibit your own or your horse's
agility in the performance of a saltation. Such was the course of
meditation that suggested itself to my mind, as I beheld an old woman
step slowly and deliberately off the foot-path of Carlisle Bridge, and,
without looking right or left, walk directly across the path of the
Kilkenny mail-coach, that was just then coming in, the driver, of course,
making his cattle do the thing handsomely, as they were so near home.
Before he could pull up, the leaders had upset her, and the coroner had
tenpence of his shilling surely counted, when a tall, athletic-looking
gentleman, stooping suddenly, seized her by the legs, and dragged her
from under the horse's feet, somewhat to the disarrangement of her
attire. "Look before you leap," said he, giving her a smart shake; "did
you never hear that adage, you stupid creature?"

"Arrah!" said she, with the most perfect innocence, "sure I was'nt goin'
to jump. Such a sayin' was'nt made for the likes iv me." "Poh! you stupid
being," said he, and walked on.

I followed, making the above reflection, when, about half way over, the
actively benevolent gentleman saw a little boy about nine or ten years
old put his hand into a gentleman's pocket; he instantly, with a
promptitude similar to what he had just exhibited, dealt him a blow that
nearly knocked the breath out of him.

The proprietor of the pocket, startled by the "_Hagh_" that announced the
sudden and almost total expulsion of the sufferer's breath, turned
sharply round, and, as the boy staggered over against the balustrades,
fiercely asked, "Who did that?"

"That young rascal, sir, had his hand in your pocket," said the striker.

"Well, sir, and what if he had?--He's _my son_."

"Your son! Sir, I beg a thousand pardons. I--I--I--"

There is nothing I hate more than to see an unfortunate individual in an
awkward dilemma. Maybe it is from having so often suffered, that I have a
sort of fellow feeling. So, merely repeating to the recent promulgator of
the old adage his own words, "Look before you leap," I passed on.

    N.




EPITAPHS.--The shortest, plainest, and truest, are the best. I say the
_shortest_, for when a passenger sees a chronicle written upon a tomb, he
takes it on trust that some great man lies there buried, without taking
pains to examine who it is. Mr Cambden, in his "Remains," presents us
with examples of great men who had little epitaphs. And when once a witty
gentleman was asked, what epitaph was fittest to be written on Cambden's
tomb, "let it be," said he, "Cambden's remains." I say also the
_plainest_, for except the sense lie above ground, few will trouble
themselves to dig for it. Lastly, it must be _true_; not as in some
monuments, where the red veins in the marble may seem to blush at the
falsehoods written on it. He was a witty man who first taught a stone to
speak, but he was a wicked man who first taught it to lie. A good memory
is the best monument; others are subject to casualty and time; and we
know that the Pyramids themselves, doting with age, have forgotten the
names of their founders.--_Scrap Book._

       *       *       *       *       *

     Printed and Published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at
     the Office of the General Advertiser, No 6. Church Lane,
     College Green, Dublin.--Agents:--London: R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer
     Alley, Paternoster Row. Manchester: SIMMS and DINHAM, Exchange
     Street. Liverpool: J. DAVIES, North John Street. Birmingham: J.
     DRAKE. Bristol: M. BINGHAM, Broad Street. Edinburgh: FRASER and
     CRAWFORD, George Street. Glasgow: DAVID ROBERTSON, Trongate.




TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES


Corrections to punctuation have not been individually documented.





End of Project Gutenberg's The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 4, by Various