heir of one or other of the dispossessed families, who, if nothing had happened that did happen, and nobody had been born of a score or two of persons who somehow, unfortunately, were actually born, then he or she might, could, would, or should have inherited the estate. In the present case Mr. Norton's ancestor (an Englishman holding high office) had purchased the estate some hundred and fifty years ago, from another English family who had held it for some generations. When and where the poor Celtic schoolmaster's forefathers had come upon the field none pretended to know. Anxious, however, to calm the minds of his neighbors, the Squire thought fit to address them in a paternal manifesto, posted about the different villages, entreating them to forbear from entering the "Cut-throat Clubs," and pointing the moral of the recent death of the Archbishop of Paris at the barricades. The result of this step was simply that the newspaper, then published in Dublin under the audacious name of the Felon, devoted half a column to exposing that gentleman by name to the hatred of good Clubbists, and pointing him out as "one of the very first for whose benefit the pikes were procured." Boxes of pikes were accordingly actually sent by the railway before mentioned, and duly delivered to the Club; and still the threat of rebellion rose higher, till even calm people like the Nortons began to wonder whether it was a volcano on which they were treading, or the familiar mud of Ballybogmucky.

with every post, of what Smith O'Brien and his friends would do if they but succeeded in raising the peasantry, -alas! all too ready to be raised. Looking over the miserable fiasco of that "cabbagegarden" rebellion now, it seems all too ridiculous to have ever excited the least alarm. But at that time, while none could doubt the final triumph of England, it was very possible to doubt whether aid could be given by the English Government before every species of violence might be committed by the besotted peasantry at the gates.

A little incident which occurred at the moment rather confirmed the idea that Ballybogmucky was transformed for the nonce into a little Hecla, not under snow, but mud. One of the Nortons visiting the fever patients, was detained late of a summer's evening in the village. So many were ill, there seemed no end of sick to be supplied with food, wine, and other things needed. In particular, three together were ill in a house already mentioned, where there were several grown-up sons, and the people were somewhat better off than usual, though by no means sufficiently so to be able to procure meat or such luxuries. Hence the visitor lingered, questioning and prescribing, till at about nine o'clock the visit ended; the visitor leaving money to procure some of the things needed. Next morning the Squire (of course a magistrate) addressed the visitor:

"So you were at Ballybogmucky last night?" Yes, I was kept there."

66

"You stayed in T―'s house till nine o'clock?" "Yes; how do you know?"

"You gave six and sixpence to the mother to get provisions?"

"Yes; how do you know?"

'Well, very simply. The police were watching the door and saw you through it. As soon as you were gone, the Club assembled there; they were waiting for your departure; and the money you gave was subscribed to buy pikes!"

Knockillsassenach having had its chief wing added at the period of '98, or thereabouts, bore testimony to the fact in two or three little features. There was a long corridor which had once been all hung with weapons, and there was a certain board in the floor of an inner closet which could be taken up when desirable, and beneath which appeared a large receptacle wherein the aforesaid weapons were stored in times of danger. Stories of '98 were familiar to the Nortons from infancy. There was the story of the Le Hunts of Wexford, when A week later, the bubble burst in the memorable the daughter of the family dreamed three times cabbage-garden. The rebel chiefs were leniently that the guns in her father's hall were all broken, dealt with by the Government, and their would-be and on inducing Colonel Le Hunt to examine them, rebel followers fell back into all the old ways as if the dream was found to be true, and his own butler nothing had happened. What became of the pikes the traitor. There was the delightful story of Com- no one knew. Possibly they exist in Ballybogmucky missioner Beresford, who had a bank in Dublin, still, waiting for some Fenian Movement to be and whose notes the (truly) Irish rebels collected brought forth. At the end of a few months, the to the amount of many thousands of pounds, and poor schoolmaster, claimant of Knockillsassenach, then publicly burned, with every expression of con- died; and as the same visitor from the family threattempt, thus presenting him with a large fortune. ened by his pikes stood by his bedside and gave him Horrible stories were there, also, of burnings and what little succor was possible, the poor fellow lifted cardings (i. e. tearing the back with the iron comb his eyes full of meaning, and said, "To think you used in carding wool); and nursery threats of should come to help me now!" It was the last refrebels coming up back stairs on recalcitrant "puck-erence made to the once-dreaded rebellion. hawns" (naughty children, children of Puck), Years have passed, and all things in Ireland wear insomuch that to 66 play at rebellion" was the a better aspect,- Ballybogmucky among the numnatural resource of all the little Nortons. A favor- ber. After endless efforts the young Squire has ite resort in wet weather carried out the idea to carried his point and drained the whole village, perfection, by displaying ammunition of bows and beaver bonnets notwithstanding. Whitewash has arrows, and old court-swords, and a valuable pro- become popular. Middens (as the Scotch call them, vision against famine in case of siege, consisting of such comestibles as acidulated drops and similar restoratives. Born and bred in this atmosphere, it seemed like a bad dream come true that there were actual pikes imported into well-known cabins, and that there were in the world beings stupid and wicked enough to wish to apply them to those who labored constantly for their benefit. Yet the papers teemed with stories of murders of good and just landlords; yet threats, cach day more loud, came

--

the Irish have a simpler phrase) are placed more frequently behind houses than in front of them. Costume has undergone some vicissitudes, among which the introduction of shoes and stockings, among even the juvenile population, is the most remarkable feature, a great change truly, since we can remember an old woman, to whom a pair had been given by a too-benevolent gentleman, complaining that she had caught cold in consequence of wearing for the first time in her life those superfluous garments.

35

amount of obdurate insensibility. They w each other so roughly, but they can on spoil very solemn ceremonies by palpably them in the light of a show. The resemowever, to civilized mankind was more palthe subsequent proceedings. A sale was Tom Sayers's various effects, and a monuto be erected to his memory. The sale apo have been tolerably successful. The various nd cups he had won were bought up by enthuadmirers or judicious speculators. The most tant lot was the mastiff who had officiated as hief mourner of the deceased, and who realized espectable sum of £ 40. This ingenious method aking the most out of a man's memory, whilst it ill fresh, does not seem to be original. We were 1, the other day, that the effects of a deceased erican statesman had been put up to auction as ics. And although, in that particular instance, e report was partially contradicted, the custom ems to be a recognized one amongst our energetic ousins. Indeed, it is only natural. It is quite reguar to treasure up the scraps belonging to a great man. Napoleon's celebrated coat is to be seen at Paris, Frederick's is preserved at Berlin, and Nelson's at Greenwich Hospital. As to the dog, he corresponds to the warrior's horse who is everywhere a customary memorial. Wallenstein's charger is still preserved entire, only altered by the addition of a new body, legs, and head. The novelty consists in the practice of putting such relics up to immediate auction. But if people have a morbid desire for any fragments of a great man's property, why should a y punctilious delicacy prevent his representatives from her turning it into money? If it is right for people to lis-scramble for his coat or his dog or his belt, why any should not they be made to pay for it? Indeed, an fel- extension of the practice would save trouble. Many ap- enlightened travellers are in the habit of filling their here pockets with bits of the statues they have seen or t the the mummies they have disinterred. As absolute been prohibition can only be expected to lead to smuga very gling, perhaps it would be better to fix the highest of his practicable tariff, and to make a man who has an e ele-irresistible weakness for the noses of statues pay a rs were good round sum for the indulgence of his innocent nters of propensities. The monument which is to be erected till pre- to the memory of the deceased seems to be in a ances of rather unsatisfactory position. An ingenious gentleThey are man has advertised in a country newspaper that he remonies, would be willing to receive subscriptions towards " terest ex- colossal marble statue." But his benevolent offer humanity appears to have been very imperfectly appreciated, n them, as and the flow of subscriptions in that direction has ssed in the received a check. Meanwhile, the genuine subscripudimentary tion also flags. Poor Tom Sayers's admirers seem ars to have to remember him just sufficiently to be attracted r population towards the public-house in which his dog will be rowdies. It domiciled; his memory is so far alive that it will act liar refuse of as an advertisement to a tavern; but it does not skirts of the stimulate the well-protected organ of gratuitous ed Highgate charity amongst his admirers. Even this phenomeenough, and non is not quite without analogy in higher circles. have been When a man dies whose name does not excite the von this degree of enthusiasm that takes the form of a statue, ments we don't freshen our memory by looking at his dog, e with but we build something of which we happen to be The in want, a school or a pump, as the case may be, bers on and call it after his name. This is, however, a after refined expedient for expressing our admiration le for cheaply, for which the Sayers-worshippers are not chibit sufficiently educated.

a

Of course there have been graver changes than | bor,- much patience, and then these. Many have been drawn into the stream of the Exodus, and have left the country. How helpless they are in their migrations, poor souls, was proved by one sad story. A steady, good young woman, whose sister had settled comfortably in New York, resolved to go out to join her, and for the purpose took her passage at an emigration agency office in Dublin. Going as usual to make her farewell respects at Knockillsassenach, the following conversation ensued between her and Miss Norton.

peace. Is it not for souls whose earthly course has been thus dim and sorrowful, who have beheld so little of this beautiful world, tasted so few of the varied pleasures it contains, cultivated so poor a share of all the wondrous powers which lie hid in every human heart and brain,-is it not for souls like these we are most sure there waits the LIFE IMMORTAL? Is not the rest in "Abraham's bosom" for Lazarus before us

?"

"And you have paid your passage-money "Yes, ma'am, I must go there anyhow, now." "O Bessie, Bessie, why would you never come to school and learn geography? You are going to a terrible place, far away from your sister. That wicked agent has cheated you horribly."

The poor girl was in despair, but nothing could be done to help her. She went to New Orleans, and there died of fever. The birds of passage and fish, which pass from sea to sea, seem more capable of knowing what they are about than the greater number of the emigrants driven by scarcely less blind an instinct. Out of the three million who, before this year closes, will have gone since the famine from Ireland to America, how many must there have been who had no more knowledge than poor Bessie of the land to which they went!

And there are many who have gone on a longer journey, a greater Exodus, - gone over to the majority," as the old Romans used to say. In the little chapel-yard, where

all?

AN ESSAY ON AN OLD SUBJECT. THE discovery of a gray hair when you are brushing out your whiskers of a morning-firstfallen flake of the coming snows of age- is a disagreeable thing. So is the intimation from your old friend and comrade that his eldest daughter is about to be married. So are flying twinges of gout, shortness of breath on the hillside, the fact that even the moderate use of your friend's wines at dinner upsets you. These things are disagreeable because they tell you that you are no longer young, that you have passed through youth, are now in middle age, and faring onward to the shadows in which, somewhere, a grave is hid. and the first gray

Thirty is the age of the gods, hair informs you that you are at least ten or twelve years older than that. Apollo is never middle-aged, but you are. Olympus lies several years behind you. You have lived for more than half your natural term; and you know the road which lies before you is very different from that which lies behind. You have yourself changed. In the present man of forty-two you can barely recognize the boy of nineteen that once was. Hope sang on the sunny slope of life's hill as you ascended; she is busily singing the old song in the ears of a new generation, but you have passed out of the reach of her voice. You have tried your strength: you have learned precisely what you can do: you have thrown the hammer so often that you know to an inch how far you can throw it, at least you are a great fool if you do not. The world, too, has been looking on and has made up her mind about you. She has appraised and valued you as an auctioneer appraises and values an estate or the furniture of a house. "Once you served Prince Florizel and wore three pile," but the brave days of campaigning

are over.

"The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep," What to you are canzonets and lovesongs? The mighty passion is vapid and secondthere are many more headstones to be seen; a few hand. Cupid will never more flutter rosily over surmounted by the old Irish cross, others bearing a your head; at most he will only flutter in an uninfavorite bas-relief of a Lamb in glory. But these spired fashion above the head of your daughter-incan hardly belong to the graves of those of whom law. You have sailed round the world, seen all its we have written. For the old man who took such wonders, and come home again, and must adorn delight in "Thomas à Kempis," for the cripple whom your dwelling as best you can with the rare things Father Matthew restored, for the beloved old mother you have picked up on the way. At life's table you whose ghost her daughter still yearns to see, for all have tasted of every dish except the Covered One, these "the turf of the valley" suffices to cover the and of that you will have your share by and by. resting-place. It is hard to think what life may The road over which you are fated to march is have been to them, and what it is to millions such more than half accomplished, and at every onward as they. No "fitful fever" like our own can it re-stage the scenery is certain to become more sombre, semble, of hope and passion, pleasure and grief; that life of vivid consciousness which comes of cultured intellect and awakened taste, and fancy left free to roam the universe, and affection strung to morbid delicacy in the atmosphere of leisure and refinement. Rather must it be a troubled twilight dream; the dream of one who slumbers wearily, yet knows he must awake to toil; the dream of a little joy in youth, and after that much want, ― much la

and in due time the twilight will fall. To you, on your onward journey, there will be little to astonish, little to delight. The Interpreter's House is behind where you first read the poets; so is also the House Beautiful with the Three Damsels where you first learned to love. As you pass onward you are attended by your henchman Memory, who may be either the cheerfullest or gloomiest of companions. You have come up out of the sweet-smelling valley

flowers; you are now on the broken granite, seamed | and wrinkled, with dried-up water-courses; and before you, striking you full in the face, is the broad disk of the solitary setting sun.

He

assured his young friends that in each of these works, even the best of them, were subtle snares and gilded baits for the soul. These books they were adjured to avoid as they would a pestilence, One does not like to be an old fogie, and still less or a raging fire. It was this alarming passage in perhaps does one like to own to being one. You the Transatlantic Divine's treatise that first made may remember when you were the youngest person a novel-reader of me. I was not content to accept in every company into which you entered; and how his experience. I must see for myself. Every one it pleased you to think how precociously clever you must begin at the beginning, and it is just as well. were, and how opulent in Time. You were intro- If a new generation were starting with the wisdom duced to the great Mr. Blank, at least twenty of its elders, what would be the consequence? years older than yourself, and could not help Would there be any love-making twenty years thinking how much greater you would be than Mr. after? Would there be any fine extravagance? Blank by the time you reached his age. But pleas- Would there be any lending of money? Would ant as it is to be the youngest member of every com- there be any noble friendships such as that of pany, that pleasure does not last forever. As years Damon and Pythias, or of David and Jonathan, or pass on you do not quite develop into the genius even of our own Beaumont and Fletcher, who had you expected; and the new generation makes its purse, wardrobe, and genius in common? It is exappearance and pushes you from your stool. You tremely doubtful. Vanitas vanitatum is a bad docmake the disagreeable discovery that there is a trine to begin life with. For the plant Experience younger man of promise in the world than even to be of any worth a man must grow it for himself. you; then the one younger man becomes a dozen The man of forty-five or thereby is compelled to younger men; then younger men come flowing in own, if he sits down to think about it, that existlike waves, and before you know where you are, by ence is very different from what it was twenty years this impertinent younger generation-fellows who previously. His life is more than half spent to bewere barely breeched when you won your first fame gin with. He is like one who has spent seven hunyou are shouldered into Ŏld Fogiedom, and your dred and fifty pounds of his original patrimony of a staid ways are laughed at, perhaps, by the irrever- thousand. Then, from his life there has departed ent scoundrels into the bargain. There is nothing that "wild freshness of morning" which Tom Moore more wonderful in youth than this wealth in Time. sang about. In his onward journey he is not It is only a Rothschild who can indulge in the likely to encounter anything absolutely new. amusement of tossing a sovereign to a beggar. It is has already conjugated every tense of the verb To only a young man who can dream and build castles Be. He has been in love twice or thrice. He has in the air. What are twenty years to a young fel- been married,-only once let us trust. In all problow of twenty? An ample air-built stage for his ability he is the father of a fine family of children. pomps and triumphal processions. What are twenty He has been ill and he has recovered; he has exyears to a middle-aged man of forty-five? The perienced triumph and failure; he has known what falling of the curtain, the covering up of the empty it is to have money in his purse, and what it is to boxes, the screwing out of the gas, and the counting want money in his purse. Sometimes he has been of the money taken at the doors, with the notion, a debtor, sometimes he has been a creditor. He perhaps, that the performance was rather a poor has stood by the brink of half a dozen graves, and thing. It is with a feeling curiously compounded heard the clod falling on the coffin-lid. All this he of pity and envy that one listens to young men has experienced; the only new thing before him is talking of what they are going to do. They will death, and even to that he has at various times aplight their torches at the sun! They will regenerate proximated. Life has lost most of the unexpectedthe world! They will abolish war and hand in the ness, its zest, its novelty, and has become like a Millennium! What pictures they will paint! What worn shoe or a threadbare doublet. To him there poems they will write! One knows while one is no new thing under the sun. But then this growlistens how it will all end. But it is Nature's way: ing old is a gradual process; and zest, sparkle, and she is always sending on her young generations full novelty are not essential to happiness. The man of hope. The Atlantic roller bursts in harmless who has reached five-and-forty has learned what a foam among the shingle and drift-wood at your feet, pleasure there is in customariness and use and wont, but the next, nothing daunted by the fate of its pre- -in having everything around him familiar, tried, decessor, comes on with threatening crest, as if to confidential. Life may have become humdrum, but carry everything before it. And so it will be for his tastes have become humdrum too. Novelty anever and ever. The world could not get on else. noys him, the intrusion of an unfamiliar object puts My experience is of use only to myself. I cannot him out. A pair of newly embroidered slippers bequeath it to my son as I can my cash. Every would be much more ornamental than the well-worn human being must start untrammelled and work out articles which lie warming for him before the lithe problem for himself. For a couple of thousand brary fire; but then he cannot get his feet into years now the preacher has been crying out Vanitas them so easily. He is contented with his old friends, vanitatum, but no young man takes him at his word. -a new friend would break the charm of the old The blooming apple must grate in the young man's familiar faces. He loves the hedgerows and the teeth before he owns that it is dust and ashes. fields and the brook and the bridge which he sees Young people will take nothing on hearsay. I re- every day, and he would not exchange them for member when a lad of Todd's Student's Manual Alps and glaciers. By the time a man has reached falling into my hands. I perused therein a solemn forty-five he lies as comfortably in his habits as the warning against novel-reading. Nor did the rever-silk-worm in its cocoon. On the whole, I take it end compiler speak without authority. He stated that he had read the works of Fielding, Smollett, Sir Walter Scott, American Cooper, James, and the rest, and he laid his hand on his heart and

that middle age is a happier period than youth. In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October, when the trees are bare to the mild heavens, and the red leaves