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priators. Wherefore we so perfectly agree in the justice of your observations, that on the dayof -we shall bring in a bill to further the reform you speak of. The consequence of this system would be an immediate division in the enemy's camp. The radicals would heartily join in this attack on the whigs, the chief proprietors of these funds; the latter would of course become alarmed, as it would be impossible for them to bring forward any thing in their own defence, which would not apply with tenfold force in support of the Establishment; they would be instantly obliged not only to relinquish their attacks upon it, but to become active in its defence. Again, while this method was taken by one to divide the radicals and whigs, another might sow dissension between the whigs and papists, by an address to the following purpose to the former :— "Gentlemen, you assert with great justice that the people of Ireland labour under heavy burdens; and the removal of these burdens would immortalize your administration. The worst burden under which that unhappy country labours is, that the poor peasantry have to support an exorbitantly wealthy Church Establishment; while the nature of that Establishment is such, that of the sums raised for its support, little or none is expended for the benefit of the people, or of society at large. The revenue of that Church amounts to about 900,000 per annum; and yet this immense sum is appropriated by men, nominally without families to support, or establishments to maintain. It is quite right that this Establishment should be abolished; and if its clergy are to be supported, it will be much preferable to compel them to live upon a moderate revenue from the state, and to make it a heavy misdemeanor in them to attempt to levy any contributions on the people. It is obvious that the Protestant Established Church of Ireland can be no burden to the peasantry, or in fact to any portion of society, but the reverse. Its revenues do not amount to more than one-third of those drawn from Ireland by the Church of Rome; and these revenues can be no burden on the people, as they are in reality a substitute for a higher rent, and are therefore paid by the landlords, while they cannot injure the landlords, as they merely withhold from them a property, which neither they nor their ancestors ever possessed, or

had a right to; and at the same time these revenues are wholly spent among the people, and are restored to them, with the additional advantage of supporting during their circulation, (for it is no more), a large body of resident gentry, whose instruction and example is of the highest utility to the country, and to society at large. To destroy the Protestant Church Establishment in Ireland, would therefore be only to increase the difficulties and burdens of that kingdom; but as it is obvious that something must be done to alleviate the grievances of the people, I shall on——— evening next, bring in a motion for an accurate return of the whole revenues of the Romish priesthood in Ireland, with an account of how these revenues are raised, and what portion of them is expended for the moral or physical benefit of the people and shall proceed to draw up and propose to the House some measure which may tend to render the revenues of this Church more beneficial to society." Again, both radicals and papists might be set upon the whigs, by showing how the cowardly, vacillating, and tyrannical policy of the latter has almost destroyed public credit, and consequently injured manufactures and trade, ruined agriculture, and rendered capitalists afraid to invest their property in any useful branch of commerce; how it has caused the greatest danger to several commercial establishments and branches of trade, and totally ruined others. In this attack they would be sure of the support of the radical manufacturers of England, and the popish agriculturists in Ireland. All this would, it is evident, tend if properly managed, to split the strength of the revolutionary party, but it would do more, as it would totally stop the attack on the Protestant Church of Ireland, by giving its enemies abundant employment at home. It would be the means of detecting real abuses, and effecting salutary reform, and above all, it would transfer all the advantages, the eclat, and the encouragement, derivable from an offensive war, from the Revolutionary to the Conservative party in the state. In the adoption of a system like this. the Conservatives would of course have some difficulties to encounter as they must be prepared to expect that, before it would be brought fully to act, some measures might be carried by their opponents, which might

by the old system have received a temporary delay. They must also be aware that, as their own chance of successfully executing the change of system increases, their opponents will become violent and abusive in proportion to their danger; but we have no hesitation in declaring our conviction that if this system be

steadily, actively, and with perseverance, adopted; it is not yet too late, not only to prevent further evil, but ultimately to undo what has been already done; and to restore the Protestant Church and British Constitution, to all the strength and preeminence they have lost.

TO MY BRIDE.

The timid dove, when first she dares to wander from the nest,
Mistrusts the very breeze on which her pinions learn to rest;
So tremblingly thou leav'st, my love, the sheltering ark of home,
With one, whose faith must yet be prov'd, the world's wide waste to roam.

I read thy tender doubts in the mute language of those eyes,

I hear them too confess'd in those involuntary sighs;

And now thou turn'st thine head away to hide suspicion's tear,
And the pale cheek that would betray the vague surmise of fear.

Thy bosom, palpitating, tells the pulses of the heart,
That from thy childhood's favorite haunts could not unmov'd depart ;
Deeming each object dear on which the light of memory's rays,
Reviving all the early scenes of youthful pleasure, plays.

And there is one, to whose embrace thou still dost fondly cling,
Like a young bird that peril shuns beneath its parent's wing,
'Tis She, who rear'd thee "from the world, unspotted, undefil'd,"
And breathes a farewell blessing now upon her darling child.

I, too, have felt the fervour of a mother's boundless love,
And prize it as the purest bond that nature ever wove ;
Nor think that I could wish thee e'er its golden links to break,
With such as could make light of this, all other ties were weak.

I could not chide the precious tears, that feeling bids thee weep,
For her, who by thy cradle us'd her anxious watch to keep,
Whose tender and unceasing care could never be repaid,
Who would approve with smiles, and by her sighs alone upbraid.

Oh! think not I could e'er awake within thy guileless breast,
One pang that could avail to mar its sweet and hallow'd rest;
Or seek to poison at its source thy young affection's flow,
By mingling with its tide of joy the bitter cup of woe.

Lovely as woman's form may be, 'tis delicate and frail,
And like the pliant willow bends beneath the passing gale;
But I would hope to shield thee from each rude and chilling blast,
And make thy future life as fair and blissful as the past.

Then learn to trust this heart that beats for its belov'd alone,
And swells with an unfeign'd delight to feel thou art its own,
That shall not be found wanting when its constancy is tried,
But to its first devotion ever true, my lovely Bride.

LITTLE FAIRLY,

BY SAMUEL LOVER, ESQ. R.H.A.

AUTHOR OF "LEGENDS AND STORIES OF IRELAND.”

The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since; but, I think, now 'tis not to be found

I will have the subject newly writ o'er, that I may example my digression by some mighty precedent.

The words great and little are sometimes contradictory terms to their own meaning. This is stating the case rather confusedly, but as I am an Irishman, in Ireland, and writing an Irish story, it is the more in character. I might do perhaps, like a very clever and agreeable friend of mine, who, when he deals in some extravagance which you dont quite understand, says "well, you know what I mean." But I will not take that for granted, so what I mean is this-that your great man, (as far as size is concerned,) is often a nobody; and your little man, is often a great man. Nature, as far as the human race is concerned, is at variance with art, which generally couples greatness with size. The pyramids, the temple of Jupiter Olympius, St. Peter's, and St. Paul's, are vast in their dimensions, and the heroes of Painting and Sculpture are always on a grand scale. In Language, the diminutive is indicative of endearment-in Nature, it appears to me it is the type of distinction. Alexander, Cæsar, Napoleon, Wellington, &c. &c. (for I have not room to detail) are instances. But do we not hear every day that "sucha-body is a big booby," while " clever little fellow" has almost passed into proverbial use. The poets have been more true to nature than painters, in this particular, and in her own divine art, her happiest votaries have been living evidences of her predilection to "packing her goods in small parcels." Pope was " a crooked little thing that asked questions," and in our own days, our own "little Moore" is a glorious testimony to the fact. The works of fiction abound with instances of the fancy of the author not considering it necessary that his hero shall

a

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

be an eligible candidate for the "grenadier corps;" the earlier works of fiction in particular: Fairy tales universally dedicate some giant to destruction at the hands of some "clever little fellow." "Tom Thumb," Jack and the Bean Stalk," and fifty other such for instance, and I am now going to add another to the list, a brilliant example, I trust, of the unfailing rule, that your little man is always a great man.

If any gentleman six foot two inches high gets angry at reading this, I beg him to remember that I am a little man myself, and if he be a man of sense (which is supposing a great deal,) he will pardon, from his own feeling of indignation at this exposé of Patagonian inferiority, the consequent triumph, on my part, of Lilliputian distinction. If, however, his inches get the better of him, and he should call me out, I beg of him to remember, again, that I have the advantage of him there too, in being a little man. There is a proverb too, that "little said is soon mended," and, with all my preaching, I fear I have been forgetting the wholesome adage. So I shall conclude this little introduction, which I only thought a becoming flourish of trumpets for introducing my hero, by placing Little Fairly before my readers, and I hope they will not think, in the words of another adage, that I have given them great cry and little wook

You see owld Fairly was a mighty dacent man that lived, as the story goes, out over the back a' the hills beyant there, and was a thrivin' man ever after he married little Shane Ruadh's* daughther, and she was little, like her father before her, a dawnshee craythur

* Red John.

but mighty cute, and industhered a power, always, and a fine wife she was to a sthrivin' man, up early and down late, and shure if she was doin' nothin' else, the bit iv a stocking was never out iv her hand, and the knittin' needles going like mad. Well sure they thruv like a flag or a bulrush, and the snuggest cabin in the counthry side was owld Fairly's. Well, in good time she brought him a son, throth she lost no time about it either, for she was never given to loitherin', and he was the picthur o' the mother, the little attomy that he was, as slim as a ferret and as red as a fox, but a hardy craythur. Well, owld Fairly didn't like the thoughts of havin' sitch a bit iv a brat for a son, and besides he thought he got on so well and prospered in the world with one wife, that, by gor, he determined to improve his luck and get another. So, with that, he ups and goes to one Doody who had a big daughter-a whopper by my sowl! throth she was the full of a door, and was called by the neighbours garran more, for in throth she was a garran, the dirty dhrop was in her, a nasty stag that never done a good turn for anyone but herself; the long-sided jack, that she was, but her father had a power o' money and above a hundher head o'cattle, and divil a chick nor child he had but herself, so that she was a great catch for whoever could get her, as far as the fortune wint, but, throth, the boys did not like the looks iv her, and let herself and her fortin alone. Well, as I was sayin, owld Fairly ups and he goes to Doody and puts his comether an the girl, and faix she was glad to be ax'd, and so matthers was soon settled, and the ind of it was they wor married.

Now maybe it's axin' you'd be how he could marry two wives at wanst, but I towld you before, it was long ago, in the good owld ancient times, whin a man could have plinty of every thing. Well home he brought the dirty garran, and sorra long she was in the place when she began to breed, (arrah fave off and dont be laughin now. I don't mane that at all,) whin she began to breed ructions in the fam'ly and to kick up antagions from mornin' till night, and put betune owld Fairly and his first wife. Well she had a son of

her own soon, and he was a big boss iv a divil, like his mother-a great fat lob that had no life in him at all-and while the little daunshee craythur would laugh in your face and play wid you if you cherrup'd to him, or would amuse himself the craythur, crawlin about the flure and playin wid the sthraws, and atein' the gravel, the jewel, the other bosthoon was roarin' from mornin' till night, barrin he was crammed wid stirabout and dhrownded a' most wid milk. Well up they grew and the big chap turned out a gommoch, and the little chap was as knowin' as a jailor; and though the big mother was always puttin up her lob to malthrate and abuse little Fairly, the dickins a one but the little chap used to circumvint him, and gev him no pace, but led him the life iv a dog wid the cunnin' thricks he played an him. Well, while all the neighbours 'amost loved the ground that little Fairly throd on, they cud n't abide the garron more's foal, good, bad, or indifierent, and many's the sly malavoguein' he got behind a hedge from one or another when his mother or father was n't near to purtect him, for owld Fairly was as great a fool about him as the mother, and would give him his eyes, 'amost, to play marvels, while he didn't care three thraneens for the darlint little chap. And 'twas the one thing as long as he lived, and at last he fell sick, and sure many thought it was a judgment an him for his unnatherl doin's to his own flesh and blood, and the sayin' through the parish was from one and all. "There's owld Fairly is obliged to take to his bed with the weight of his sins." And sure enough off o' that same bed he never riz, but grew weaker and weaker every day, and sint for the priest to make his sowl, the wicked owld sinner, God forgive me, for sayin' the word, and sure the priest done whatever he could for him, but after the priest wint away he called his two wives beside his bed, and the two sons, and says he, "I'm going to lave yiz now," says he, " and sorry I am," says he," for I'd rather stay in owld Ireland than go any where else," says he, "for a raison I have"-hegh! hegh! hegh! "oh murther, this cough is smotherin' me, so it is. Oh wurra! wurra! but its sick and sore I am. Well come

* Big Horse.

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here yiz both," says he to the women, you wor good wives both o' ye, I have nothin to say agin it-(Molly dont forget the whate is to be winny'd the first fine day)-and ready you wor to make and to mind-(Judy there's a hole in the foot of my left stockin') and

"Don't be thinkin' o' your footin' here," said little Judy, the knowledgable craythur, as she was, "but endayvour to make your footin' in heaven," says she, mavourneen."

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Don't put in your prate 'till your ax'd," says the owld savage, no ways obliged that his trusty little owld woman was wantin to give him a helpin' hand tow'rds puttin his poor sinful sowl in the way o' glory.

"Lord look down on you!" says she.

"Tuck the blanket round my feet," says he, "for I'm gettin very cowld." So the big owld hag of a wife tucked the blankets round him.

"Ah you were always a comfort to me," says owld Fairly.

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Well remember my son for that same," says she, for it's time I think you'd be dividin' what you have bechuxt uz," says she.

"Well I suppose I must do it at last," says the owld chap, though, hegh! hegh! hegh!" Oh this thievin' cough-though its hard to be obleeged to leave one's hard airins and comforts this away," says he, the unfortunate owld thief thinkin' o' this world instead of his own poor sinful sowl.

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"Come here big Fairly," says he, my own bully boy, that's not a starved poor ferret, but worth while lookin' at. I lave you this house," says he.

"Ha!" says the big owld sthrap, makin' a face over the bed at the poor little woman that was cryin', the craythur, although the owld villian was usin' her so bad.

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"All my cattle," says the owld fellow, "every head" says he, “barrin one, and that one is for that poor scaldcrow there," says he, “little Fairly." "And is it only one you lave my poor boy," says the poor little woman.

"If you say much," says the owld dyin' vagabone," the divil resave the taste of any thing I'll lave him or you," says he.

"Don't say divil, darlin,"

"Howld your prate I tell you and listen to me, I say you little Fairly." "Well daddy," says the little chap. "Go over to that corner cupboard," says he," and in the top shelf," says he," in the bottom of a crack'd taypot you'll find a piece of an owld rag, and bring it here to me."

With that little Fairly went to do as he was bid, but he could not reach up so high as the corner cupboard, and he run into the next room for a stool to stand upon to come at the crack'd taypot, and he got the owld piece iv a rag and brought it to his father. Open it," says the father. "I have it open now," says little Fairly.

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"What's in it? says the owld boy. "Six shillin's in silver, and three farthin's," says little Fairly.

"That was your mother's fortune," says the father, and I'm goin to behave like the hoighth of a gentleman, as I am," says he, "I'll give you your mother's fortune," says he," and I hope you won't squander it," says he," the way that every blackguard now thinks he has a right to squandher any decent man's money he is the heir to," says he, "but be careful of it," says he, "as I was, for I never touched a rap iv it but let it lie gotherin' in that taypot ever since the day I got it from Shane Ruadh the day we sthruck the bargain about Judy, over beyant at the and bagpipes,' comin' from the fair, and I lave you that sir shillings and five stone o' mouldy oats that's no use to me, and four broken plates, and that three legged stool you stood upon to get at the cupboard, you poor nħarrough that you are, and the two spoons without handles, and the one cow that's gone back of her milk.

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"What use is the cow, daddy?" says little Fairly, "widout land to feed her

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