farmers, and artisans. sick exiles" will gladly stop, in answer to your call, and hail it as the dawning of a brighter day for their illfated country. Protect and cherish them. Substitute them every where, as opportunity offers, for the uncivilized horde with which you are now encircled, but which are connected with you by no moral tie. Whose Proteus characters, totally devoid of truth and gratitudefor the latter of which, their language has never been taxed even for a name -no kindness can win, and no principles can fix. And who are, therefore, even prepared, as the times vary, to be abject slaves, or insolent tyrants. These "heart- thrown out a hint, for the consideration of those who are more conversant with the practical part of such matters than we are, whose rural excursions, it may be supposed, are confined to College parks and academic groves. The plan which we have suggested, will, perhaps, be attended with some trouble in its execution; though by no means such as indolence and timidity would conjure up. But if any plan for the moral improvement-nay, we must say, moral regeneration, of a people, can be devised, free from trouble, let it be preferred. It will, we have no doubt, admit of many modifications and improvements in its detail, suggested by practical experience, or required by local circumstances. To these we freely submit it. The principle, alone, we contend for, and it is this, that landlords, and farmers generally, should avoid, as far as is practicable, the creating, or continuing to maintain, a body of men with the usual appendage of wives and children, over which they can exercise no moral controul; and with whose characters, and even persons, they are for the most part, unacquainted. A body, too, which bears within it a tendency to increase beyond its means of subsistence. Whose daily resources are but barely sufficient for its daily. wants, and which, thus, lives, as it were, daily upon the confines of destitution and consequent anarchy. A body selftrained, and therefore trained by ignorance and idleness. And that for such should be substituted a body of labourers, over whom they can exercise a training discipline, a vigilant superintendance, a powerful moral, and in many cases, religious influence. With the certainty of detection and punishment, to deter them from crime-with the necessaries and comforts of life assured to them, to remove much temptation to crime, and to carry them cheerfully through their duties. And with the prospect of advancement and reward, comfortable independence, and domestic enjoyment, to stimulate them to active and intelligent industry—to temperance, frugality, and virtue. In what we said above, as to the obligation on landlords to provide for their cottier tenants, we would not be misunderstood. In the relation of landlord and tenant, as in every other relation, there is, of course, a reciprocity of obligation. The landlord can be bound to the tenant by no tie, beyond what his legal bonds furnish, unless where the tenant identifies himself with his interests. If the latter practically evince that he has another, and a rival master, with interests diametrically opposite: if he candidly avow, that at the bidding of a priest, he would rise in rebellious arms, to further a secular cause, which can stand but upon the ruin of his landlord's interests-which would eject him from his property, and rob him of his life-then, doubtless, his lease accurately defines all that such a man can claim, or reasonably expect, from his landlord-except, indeed, every effort in his power, to let in light upon his gross darkness, and to promote his spiritual good. We have stated, what we believe to be, one of the mediate and instrumental causes of the moral debasement, the insubordination, and the wretchedness of Ireland. The final cause is the laxity of principle, the compromising expediency, the griping covetousness, the religious indifference-in a word-the ungodliness of nominal Protestantism. The radical reform, therefore, which we would propose for the consideration and adoption of Protestants, is—Godliness. "Let God arise, and his enemies shall be scattered, and all they that hate him shall flee before him." In the topical remedy proposed for the proximate cause to which we have more particularly referred, we have merely We need scarcely to repeat, with the qualification already mentioned, that no landlord would be justified in adopting this plan, whose estate swarms with cottiers, who exist but by his employment, and who are faithful to his interests-in his neighbourhood and connection with whom, he feels, that life and property are secure. But, certainly, the landlord whose estate is clear of such-and the great body of farmers who rent land, and who are under no engagements or obligation to such, would be fully warranted, not only by justice, but benevolence, in selecting from out of the great mass of labourers who, now, divide their employment, the few, to whom, for the attainment of such desirable ends, they would, respectively, confine it. MOSCHUS IDYLLIUM I. AMOR FUGITIVUS. "Ye Paphian nymphs, search every grove," "Ye swains pursue the truant Love, I feel for my lost bosom's lord, know, "I'll tell ye how ye best may His eyes are sparkling with the fire And wakened, when the dream was done, "His golden curls unbraided flow, Twin spring, twin summer thro' the year. "He wears a bow, and quiver too, So slily on his feather'd shaft. But should you find him, bind his hands, He'll kneel, and weep, implore, and pray, But nymphs and swains beware of this, As flowers whose dew the wild bee sips READING FOR HONOURS. When first the college-rolls receive his name, The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame; Through all his veins the fever of renown Spreads from the strong contagion of the gown; O'er Bodley's dome his future labours spread, And Bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head. The day that preceded my departure from Bog-Lodge, to pass the entrance examination in the University of Dublin, was one not soon to be forgotten in the annals of my family. My sisters had been up with the first light of day to pack my things, namely, my clothes, a few books, and a plumb-cake, which my kind Aunt Jenny had made on purpose for me to distribute among my young companions in college. I took only a few books, as I was to return home immediately after entrance; but those few were packed in my portmanteau, at the recommendation of another maiden aunt, by name Sally, who advised me to take a Homer, a Virgil, a Terence, and a Horace, "just to cast my eye over them on the morning of the examination." My mother did nothing all day but run out of one room and into another, call the servants, and ask were they sure of this thing and that? pull all the things out of my trunk to ascertain if they were properly packed; or run into the kitchen and disperse the servants in all directions for my father, to ask him some question, or give him some orders. My father was indeed the only unconcerned person among us. He walked about the farm as if nothing extraordinary was about to happen; and seemed so little inclined to come in the way of the bustle, that, excepting when summoned by an emissary from my mother, he kept aloof from the house all day. On such occasions he would slowly, and reluctantly, walk homewards, grumbling-" Plague on them! can't they let a man alone with their nonsense!!" till summoned by fresh messengers, and perhaps by the distant voice of his helpmate, calling Johnson. and out, "John, John, where are you? I want to speak to you! He would put more alacrity into his motions, and hasten to meet my mother, saying, in a cheerful voice, "Here, my heart, what is it you want?" The answer to this question did not, it is true, always set forth a case of sufficient importance to justify the bringing of my poor father in a hurry across four or five fields, especially as our stiles are rather hard to climb, and he has had a touch of lumbago; but his patience, and obedience, were most exemplary; whether the matter in hand was to get a bit of twine to tie a parcel, or to solve the problem of which of two coats I was to wear in Dublin, his attention to my mother's wishes was unfailing. Once indeed, and only once, did he lose his habitual composure at what he seemed to consider an unreasonable command on her part. She had dispatched all the servants and labourers about the place in different directions in search of him, and was herself perched on an elevated spot in the barley field, making the sylvan echoes reverberate the name of her beloved, when, for the fifteenth time in the course of the day, my father came from the other end of the farm, obedient to this the fifteenth command. He advanced with difficulty, and no wonder, considering the length of ground he had traversed since morning; but he spoke in the same resigned tone as ever, while his eye seemed to say, "pray, have mercy on me!" But mercy was not, at this moment, an inmate of my mother's bosom. She hailed him with-" Why, John, what on earth has kept you so long? Here I have been waiting, and calling, and sending for you, and you no more minding me than if you were deaf. I declare this kind of thing is not to be borne !" "Well, my heart, and what is it I am to do for you? Why, go down to Inishogh immediately, and get some spirit of camphor for Joe's tooth. We had as near as possible packed his trunk without it. Be sure and tell Mr. M'Dorey to send it very strong." My poor father could contain himself no longer, but broke out with "I protest to Heaven my-my love-this is more than I can submit to! Can't Joe go for himself? I think it would be more becoming than for me to be a slave to my own son." To these rebellious expressions my mother indignantly replied," Why then, upon my word, Joe shall not go, and I wonder at your proposing it, I think we may at least permit him to enjoy the society of his sisters and aunts on this the last day he is to spend at home." "The last day!" exclaimed my father, "why, what the plague, isn't he coming back on Friday, and can't he have enough of the society of his sisters then, and of his aunts too, plague take them!" "Of course he cannot," said Aunt Sally, who had just joined the group, "when you know he will be reading for the premium, and of course, poor fellow, will be able to see but little of us." Reading for the premium,-stuffand if he can't go, can't one of the servants, or one of the men go ?" 66 66 Yes," said my mother, "and leave the business of the farm undone, and the dinner uncooked." "I protest," said Aunt Sally, "John is really too absurd; for he knows, that if Joey's tooth should ache in college, it will be impossible for him to answer in that clear and distinct manner which is indispensable to a young man's success." The dispute ended, in a servant-boy being sent to Inishogh, while my mother and Aunt Sally joined in exclaiming against my father for his selfish disposition, that would not let him take a pinsworth of trouble to save his whole family from a tooth-ache. I may here observe that Aunt Sally maintains an authority over my father, superior even to that exercised by my mother; which is not extraordinary, considering that her ascendancy predominates at Bog Lodge, in every thing, from the education of the children to the dressing of the dinner. In fact, my mother only plays second fiddle to Aunt Sally, who is certainly a very clever person, as is evident from her manner of conversation: for let the subject be what it may, algebra or haymaking, theology or potatoes, all are discussed with a volubility and decision which show a well-informed and commanding mind. Even when, as sometimes happens, she knows nothing of the subject on the tapis, she is not content with being silent, or with a simple confession of ignorance, like my father or other ordinary people; but occupies half an hour in informing us that she knows nothing, and giving us reasons why, in the most classical and sesquipedal English. As my literary education, together with that of my sisters, has been entirely under the direction of my invaluable aunt for many years, it is not surprising that at so important an era of my life, as entering college, she should feel considerably interested, and exert her powers of eloquence, both to incite me to the acquirement of academic honours, and my sisters to the best arrangement of my portmanteau. This last feat was at length happily accomplished, and we sat down to a very late dinner. The conversation at table was chiefly confined to the ladies; for I sat silent, wrapt in anticipations of future greatness; and my father was so fully occupied in appeasing his hunger, which that day was rather sharp, that he only muttered a few broken sentences, which as they were apparently addressed confidentially to his plate, none thought it incumbent on them to answer. The rest of the evening was spent in discussing the many and great things I was to perform at entrance. Aunt Jenny said, that if I was a good boy, and said my lessons well, perhaps, besides getting first place, the Provost would make an exception in my favour, and give me a handsome book for a premium, At this sentence of Aunt Jenny, a grunt issued from my father, who was sitting near the fire. This, by the by, has been, for whatever reason, for some time back, his usual mode of joining in our conversation; and we are so well accustomed to it, as to be able to distinguish by the intonation, between his grunt applausive, and that expressing displeasure, or even minuter shades of sentiment. Aunt Sally relied on my implicitly following the directions which she had so often given me, about sitting firm and erect at the examinations, and repeating the answers in a full, clear, voice, and looking full in the examiner's face. Nothing, she observed, was of more importance to a young man than the impression he leaves on the minds of others, and nothing influences that impression more than manners-and she hoped that mine would leave such an impression on the minds of the University as would influence them most favourably towards me, not only in awarding an honourable place to me at entrance, but through the whole of my subsequent course. A grunt from my father followed Aunt Sally's harangue. My mother desired me to be sure and get the first place-and to read all the books which Aunt Sally had put up for me—and to take care and answer my very best-and to observe all Aunt Sally's directions about pronunciation and manner of answering, and then I should be sure to get the first place. We parted for the night. Next morning I rose early, took leave for the first time in my life of parents, aunts, and sisters, and mounted the Dublin mail with a beating heart. The world was literally new to me: I had never been ten miles from home, and knew nothing of men and customs, beyond the confines of my native parish. These considerations, however, did not disturb me. I had no fears of future failure either in College or the world. My talents I knew to be prodigious, and had been so often assured of my scholastic abilities by my aunts and sisters, and by my tutor Mr. M'Classican, that I could anticipate nothing short of a brilliant triumph. But on my classical attainments, (great as they undoubtedly are,) I relied less than on my talents in general literature, especially poetry, for which I have a fine genius, which has received the suffrages as well of the female circle at home, as of all the neighbouring ladies and gentlemen who visit us, and who have always testified the highest admiration of my precocious intellect. In fact, (if I may mention it without exceeding the VOL. I. bounds of modesty) I had already outdone Milton, Dryden, and Pope; for whereas their juvenile efforts had been confined to what are called minor poems, I had already written great part of a romantic epic in the manner of the Corsair, to be comprised in twenty cantos. My reasoning on this subject was strictly logical. If, said I, at the age of eighteen, I have already surpassed the greatest poets that ever existed, to what an inconceivable eminence shall I not have attained at the end of my life! My father, I am sorry to say, thinks proper to differ from the rest of mankind respecting my abilities. When my Aunt Sally would appeal to my 'Ode to Phingari,' (which means the moon) as a proof that I had talents sufficient to carry off all the premiums, prizes, and medals, classic and scientific, which the college had to bestow, he would grunt and mutter something about"better mind his books than be writing such heaps of trash-do him no good in college-just idling the boy, and making a fool of him." Or if he ventured to criticise my lines, and prove them to be "nonsense," he encountered such screams of indignation from the ladies, as deprived him of courage to proceed. He has (strange to say) the reputation of being a good scholar, and judge of literature, but he certainly does not exhibit these qualities among his own family. I remember a criticism of his which moved the just contempt of the Inishogh ladies' reading society, and which I insert as a specimen of his peculiar mode of thinking. In my "Ode" just mentioned, are the following lines: "By lone Phingari's pensive light A legend of the silvery brook. Now nothing can be more in the style of Byron than these lines. They have, as Miss Scriblerina Botherem observes, the melancholy swell, and deep unutterable feelings of his poetry. But my poor father cares little for deep unutterable feelings. He asks how this same Mameluke can row swiftly, and play the guitar at the same time?-and as for the next verse, he can't for the life of him see any meaning or sense in it at all-and if there be anything in it 20 |