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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b4432e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54748 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54748) diff --git a/old/54748-0.txt b/old/54748-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b77ea85..0000000 --- a/old/54748-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1609 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 32, -February 6, 1841, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 32, February 6, 1841 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: May 20, 2017 [EBook #54748] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH PENNY JOURNAL, FEB 6, 1841 *** - - - - -Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by JSTOR www.jstor.org) - - - - - - - - - - - THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL. - - NUMBER 32. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 1841. VOLUME I. - -[Illustration: HANDSOME KATE KAVANAGH.] - -In that fertile district of the county Wexford, the barony of Forth, -distinguished for its comfortable cottages and general good husbandry, -lived Dennis Costigan, a rich farmer. His farm was large, well stocked, -and in high condition; his dwelling-house was furnished as a farmer’s -house should be, and it was as cleanly and neat as it was commodious. -His wife was tidy, notable, and good-tempered, and his three children -were such as would please a father--well-formed in person and virtuous -in mind. Then, should not our friend Dennis Costigan have been a happy -man? He would have been so _perhaps_--for there is ever to be a stumbling -block in our road to happiness--_but_ that the first object that glared -upon his eyes in each morning’s sun was the white low cottage of his next -neighbour Miles Kavanagh. Yet that cottage was not an ugly feature in the -landscape. It was small and low, but as white as the whitest lime could -make it; it was neatly thatched too, and its small casements were never -broken or patched. A few honeysuckles and roses crept up its walls, and -it was surrounded by a hedge of hazels and sallows, that lent it an air -of comfort and seclusion. Its owner, at least, thought it a pretty spot, -and that he was a happy man indeed to possess it and its two or three -adjoining acres; and as he trimmed his hedges, and looked pleasantly on -all around--the fruits of his industry and labour--he little thought that -any one could look upon _his_ cot and farm with other eyes than those of -admiration; and least of all that he, or aught of his, was the source -of care or annoyance to his wealthier neighbour. And why did wealthy -Dennis Costigan glance lowringly on this humble tenement? Was it that, -like his betters, he thought a poor man’s dwelling always an unsightly -object? and that, like many a grasping spirit, all land convenient to his -own was misappropriated if not in his possession? It was not so. Dennis -Costigan envied no man his possessions. He was a right specimen of a -farmer, independent, upright, honest, and industrious, contented with -what providence had given him, and willing to help a neighbour with purse -and hand if required. And if he _did_ grumble a little, and turn away his -eyes quickly as if in pain, from the cottage we have mentioned, many -another father with hopeful sons would do the same, for it contained a -gem that would grace the proudest castle in Ireland--beautiful, charming, -innocent Kate Kavanagh, but who had no fortune. - -One fine morning in August, farmer Costigan sallied forth at the head -of a regiment of reapers armed for the destruction of a large field of -wheat, but scarcely had he got outside his yard when he missed two of his -most efficient men--his two sons. - -“Where can those gorsoons ov mine be, boys?” inquired he of the reapers. -“In the arms ov _Murphy_, to be sure,” answered a little shrill-piped -fellow, the crack orator of the country, which, and the circumstance of -his name being alike, procured him the cognomen of “Counsellor Shiel.” -“In the arms ov Murphy, to be sure, afther thrippin’ it all night on the -light funtastic toe with that flower ov Forth an’ belle ov the barony, -Kate Kavanagh.” - -“Arrah, can’t ye speak in plain English, man?” thundered the farmer with -kindling eyes--the name just mentioned always putting him in a passion. -“What the dickens does I know ov funtastic toes or heels?” - -“Very little indeed, _litherally_,” quoth the counsellor, laughing, and -glancing sarcastically at the farmer’s large feet, cased in tremendous -brogues shod with hob-nails; “very little _litherally_, but you might -metaphorically, for all that. But you have no more poethry or bells -letthers in ye than a bag ov beans!” - -“Nor you more common sense than a goose.” - -“Stop!” cried the orator suddenly, in a tone of command enough to arrest -a retreating army, and motioning to the body of reapers. “Stop, one an’ -all ov ye, an’ listen! It would be a sin to let this profane ignirince -continue longer.” Then addressing our barony Forth farmer with a -countenance in which pity and ineffable contempt were blended, “Is it in -the nointeenth centhery that you call me a goose, by way ov contimpt? Oh -ignorant of nathral histhry, jography, bells letthers, pelite litherature -altogether! For, know, onforthenate man, that it was the _cackle_ ov that -same illustrious baist, a goose, that saved what?--where do you think?” - -“Yer mother’s hen-roost from the fox, is it?” - -“No, haithen, but imparial Rome!!!” - -The might, the majesty of the “counsellor’s” tones and gestures as he -uttered the words, struck amazement into the hearts of his hearers! They -had considered him a clever fellow, but by no means the great man he then -appeared! Enchanted with his eloquence, not a few of his auditors were -certain that if he were in Parliament, he would do more for Ireland than -Mr O’Connell and all his friends; while the remainder, as much delighted -with his energy, lamented that “the craithur wasn’t two fut higher, for -he had a great spirit intirely!” - -The happy “counsellor” perceived the impression he had produced, and in -his altitude was proceeding to tell them when and how “imparial Rome” was -saved, when his attention was arrested by an approaching object, and with -an instantaneous change of attitude and tone he exclaimed, - - “‘But, soft! what light from yonder _meadow_ breaks? - It is the aist, an’ Cath’rine is the sun!’” - -as a tall and very handsome girl, with the finest eyes and brightest -smile imaginable, met them at the entrance of the wheat field. - -“A blithe mornin’ to Misther Costigan,” said the maiden, “an’ the same to -all the raipers!” - -“Oh! a good morra,” returned Mister Costigan very coldly and with looks -still colder, “an’ I wondher above all things what is it that takes Miss -Kavanagh out of her bed so early?” - -“Just what ought to rouse many more ov us, Misther Costigan,” replied -Kate spiritedly--“to help a naibur, an’ I am come to offer ye all the -’sistance in my power to-day, aither as binder or raiper, whichever ye -may want worst.” - -“I want neither,” returned the farmer gruffly, and turning on his heel; -“an’, besides, I could not possibly think of puttin’ sitch delicate white -hands to sitch coorse work!” - -“The belle o’ the barony” coloured high at the affront couched in this -speech, and she hastily answered that “her hands, sitch as they war, -could earn her bread for her when she required it; an’ if _she_ didn’t -find them too tendher for work, Misther Costigan needn’t find fault with -them. But,” added she more kindly, “you have a rough manner but a kind -heart, Dennis Costigan, an’ I won’t mind what you say to me. Moreover, -I’ll stay with ye to-day, whether you be willin’ or not, aither as binder -or raiper.” - -Dennis Costigan, “kind as his heart” was, would have given a sovereign -of “bright goold” that Kate Kavanagh and her bright eyes were a few miles -off at the moment; but as he saw that she carried all before her, he -thought it better not to give her any further offence, and accordingly, -but with a very bad grace, he accepted her services. - -“Where be’s Jem and Ned Costigan this mornin’?” whispered Kate to the -counsellor, who was flourishing away gallantly at her side. - -The man of eloquence flung himself into an attitude, laid his hand upon -his heart, and looked languishingly, as he “assured her that her charms -were railly too potently enfluential over the hearts ov her admirers, -as she not only deprived thim ov the needful refreshment of nathur, -oblivious slumber, but she also hendhered them from doin’ their daily -manual imploymints. For instance,” said he, “you see _Saul_, the orb ov -day, is high up in his meraydian hemisphare, an’ those inamoured swains -are still pressin’ their beds, or rather cooches, in the arms ov Murphy, -mainin’ sleep or Somnus----” - -“An’ what have I to do with that?” said Kate, laughing heartily. “Do ye -think I gave thim a sleepy potion?” - -“Ah! my beautiful flower ov Forth!” sighed out the sentimental -counsellor, “any thing but a sleepy potion do you give yer lovers! if -’tis anything, sure I am ’tis a draught to banish sleep for ever! But -consarnin’ those vagrant truints ye spaik ov, I ondherstand that you -kep thim up beyant their ushial hours ov repose last night, admirin’ -yer graceful movemints in yer _Turpfiscorian_ revels, mainin’ the dance -at Judy Colfer’s; an’ that man, their father, who is not to be moved -with ‘concord of sweet sounds,’ or any sounds at all but the chink ov -money, almost snapt my head off a while ago bekase I tould him so. Ah! -my Catherine dear, I fear you’ll incounther opposition in that quarther. -But ‘_nel desperantum_,’ say I, which mains in plain English, ‘never -dispair.’” - -Catherine said nothing, but instantly began to sing, at the top of her -fine rich voice, a song the counsellor had composed in praise of her, and -shortly afterwards she had the pleasure to see the two sleepy truants -bounding across the yard towards the wheat-field, as if her well-known -notes had awaked them. - -While this magical song was thrilling on all hearts, Kate Kavanagh, -the witching Kate! stood apart from the others, singing and laughing -alternately, her reaping-hook resting on one arm, and dressed in the -every-day fashion of the place--the striped linsey short petticoat, and -loose bedgown or wrapper, a dress that would make an ordinary woman -frightful, and straw hat, the leaf of which, turned up before and pinned -to the crown, displayed her sable locks and fair high forehead to -perfection. And many a side-glance the anxious father, Dennis Costigan, -cast at this arrangement of Kate’s headgear, as he broadly hinted that -“for sartin Miss Kavanagh’s complexion would be intirely spiled if she -showed it too much to the sun.” - -“Tut!” was Kate’s good-humoured reply, “‘the life ov an ould hat is to -cock it,’ as we say in the counthry. The leaf ov it was flappin’ in -my eyes; the lads couldn’t see me, nor I them, so a pin settled the -bisness;” and nothing could become her fine Spanish face better, though -her toilet was made in perfect carelessness, for dashing Kate had other -charms to depend on besides beauty. Imprimus, she was the first dancer -in the country, outdoing her dancing-master himself at “jigs, reels, -thribbles, doubles, hornpipes, and _petticoatees_.” She was a _killing_ -dancer in both senses of the word, for no boy or girl could keep it up -with the spirit of Kate Kavanagh, and she generally disabled six or -eight prime beaus at every “hop” she appeared at, which was nearly every -night. The worst of it was (as the sorely annoyed fathers and mothers -of the neighbourhood said), “though she fairly kilt all the boys that -danced with her, yet sorra one but herself would sarve them for a partner -after all!” Then she was, as Orator Shiel said, “Apollyo in petticoats -for singin’!” and songs of love, murder, hunting, war, and sea, would -charm with double effect, borne on the musical notes of Kate Kavanagh. -In short, she was “metal most,” but also too “attractive;” and loud -complaints and grievances at last came thundering on her devoted head. -“Boys growin’ lazy and crazy--work undone or done badly--time spent an’ -mis-spent--messages forgotten and mistaken--girls neglected--matches -broken--eternal dancin’, fightin’, black eyes an’ bloody noses”--all, all -was laid in a bundle at the door of handsome, animated, dashing, yet very -innocent Kate Kavanagh. - -“What will be done with her at all at all?” iterated the suffering -fathers and mothers all round the country. “What will we do with her at -all?” - -“I’ll tell ye, naiburs,” responded one of the elders, as a body of them -returned from chapel on the Sunday after Mosey Fortune’s great “flare -up,” at which three topping bloods fought for the honour of first -figuring on the floor with the “belle o’ the barony.” “Let a respectable -dacent naibur, sitch as Dennis Costigan here for example, go to her -father as a friend to advise him to get his daughther married out ov -hand, for fear some harm will happen. An’, throth, harm _will_ happen; -for if she’s not the destruction ov herself, she will be the ruination -ov others. So, Misther Costigan, let you be the man to spake to Miles -Kavanagh.” - -“Agreed,” said Dennis Costigan, who was one of the party, and also a -suffering father; and on the ensuing Thursday he intended to proceed on -the mission. - -In the meantime, Kate Kavanagh, never dreaming of the grand hubbub -about her, assisted to cut down Mr Costigan’s wheat; and so full of -songs, jokes, and attractions was she, that it was observed, even by -the farmer himself, that the men, old and young, surpassed themselves -at reaping that day. Indeed, Kate set them an excellent pattern; for, -notwithstanding that her tongue moved in double-quick time, she took care -that her hands should be equally nimble; and at nightfall, thanks to Kate -and the influence of her black eyes, sharp and bright as her sickle, the -very large field of wheat was cut down, bound, and stooked to the owner’s -satisfaction. Yet, after all, the “flower of Forth” bloomed too near -Dennis, or rather his sons, to allow him to be perfectly content. - -“How yer father squints at me!” observed Kate to James Costigan, her -ardent admirer, and to whom, by the way, she contrived to keep close -during the day. “He looks at me as if I was a crab apple, an’ he had just -taken a bite. Wouldn’t it be the best ov a good joke, now, if I’d make -him change his tune in spite ov himself?” - -Jem looked at her very tenderly as he replied, “Ye do as you like with -_us_, Kate darlin’, but I doubt yer power over my father. He is flent to -purty girls, an’ above all to you.” - -“We shall see,” said Kate; and that very evening, between coaxing and -pulling, she actually brought the portly farmer, albeit in no dancing -mood, to dance with her (when Peter Hamilton and his violin _happened_ -in after supper), to the amazement and amusement of a kitchen full of -spectators, though, as honest Dennis confessed while wiping his broad -brows, “he didn’t take sitch a spree for ten years afore!” Handsome Kate -at the end of it looked knowingly at Jem Costigan, as much as to say, -“You see this, and you’ll see more.” - -The next morning an express arrived to Dennis Costigan with the news -that his sister’s daughter, Miss Peggy Malone, was about to “change her -state,” and that her uncle’s company was required at the wedding. - -“Och, murther!” cried the farmer when he had sufficiently expressed his -surprise at the news, “this ould brown coat ov mine will never do for a -weddin’!--turn it which way I will, it looks shabby enough--pieced at -the elbows an’ torn at the cuffs! So, Jem, asthore, take the black mare -an’ set off this minnit to Waxford, an’ buy me the makin’s ov a coat an’ -waistcoat ov good green cloth; it always became my complexion. An’, Jem, -for yer head don’t make any mistake this time. Those three months past -you’re full ov mistakes, an’ nothin’ else.” - -“Is it me makes mistakes!” quoth Jem indignantly; “that’s what I never -did yet, except wanst or twice, an’ I’ll not begin now.” And he mounted -the mare, and turned her head towards Wexford. But as he should pass -Miles Kavanagh’s cottage, “it would be only right an’ proper to ax if he -or Kate had any commands for town.” And--and--when he got to Wexford, he -quite forgot the colour his father had ordered, and, thinking of Kate -Kavanagh’s hair and eyes, he bought black. - -Well, never was man in a greater fume than our friend Dennis Costigan -when he saw his son’s purchase. “Black! black!” he repeated again and -again, as he held up the cloth and indignantly scowled at it and its -purchaser, “black for a weddin’! Oh, ye born nathural! what on earth put -it into yer head to buy black for a weddin’? But I see the thruth in yer -eyes this minnit! Ye seen that--that--plague upon earth, Kate Kavanagh, -afore ye wint to Waxford, an’ she, as ushial, put every wise thought out -ov yer head. Black coat at a weddin’!--who ever seen the like afore?” - -It was in vain that poor Jem explained that “the cloth was not all out -black, but what was called Oxfert-grey--a mighty ginteel colour, an’ -sitch as was worn by all fathers ov families.” - -“That’s as much as to say that it is worn by all ould min?” said the -father, nothing better pleased. “What a judge ye are! But as the cloth -is bought, I must keep it I suppose, an’ I’ll take it to the tailor’s -myself, for fear ye’d make some other confounded blundher. I wouldn’t -wondher if ye’d tell him to make it a spincer-jacket without skirts, ye -have sitch a janious for mistakes!” And putting the parcel of cloth under -his arm, he set out for Jemmy Nowlan’s domicile. - -There he saw no one but the tailor’s old mother sitting very melancholy -over the fire. - -“Can I see yer son Jemmy, widda Nowlan?” asked the farmer. - -“Och, asthore machree, Misther Costigan,” said the widow, setting up a -keen, and rocking herself about, “ye may see him an’ welkim, but a quare -sight ye’ll see whin ye sees him; an’, linamachree! the worst ov it is, -he can’t see ye now.” - -“Why, what’s the matther?” demanded Mr Costigan alarmed. “I hope he’s not -dead?” - -“He’s not dead, but he’s kilt intirely,” sobbed the distressed parent, -“wid the lambastin’ he got ere-last night at the dance at Dinny Doran’s.” - -“Well, an’ what takes _him_ to dances?” said the farmer in a heat. “Sure -the like shred ov him ought to stay at home an’ mind his bisness.” - -“Pulliliew! is that the feelin’ ye has for yer fella-craithurs, Misther -Costigan. But indeed I often sed that same to him myself. ‘Stay at home, -honey,’ I says to him, ‘an’ don’t be losin’ yer sleep an’ flittherin’ yer -slippers at them dances.’ ‘Hould yer whisht, mother,’ he’ll say to me -thin (for he is a mighty obaydient child), ‘love sthrikes the little as -well as the big, an’ I wouldn’t have a sowl above buttons if I wouldn’t -take every opportunity ov meetin’ an’ coortin’ Kate Kavanagh.’ So ye see -the win’ sits in that quarther, Misther Costigan.” - -Mr Costigan actually stamped on the floor with passion when he heard the -name of Kate Kavanagh; and as the tailor’s mother perceived unusual anger -in his countenance, she flattered herself that it was all sympathy for -her “darlint Jemmy,” and she hastened to give him the particulars “ov -the murdher” foul and unnatural. “So now, my darlint Misther Costigan,” -she concluded, “his poor eyes is black an’ blue, and closed up into the -bargain, an’ he couldn’t handle a needle if it was for Misther Grogan -Morgan himself--God bless him for the fine lan’lord that he is.” - -If poor Mrs Nowlan knew but all, little sympathy had her wealthy visitor -for her battered son, when he understood the cause of his woes, and her -pathetic touches of tenderness went for nothing. Muttering something -about “hanging all fools and mothers of fools,” he took a gruff leave of -the widow, and returned home with his cloth. There was no other tailor -nearer than Wexford, and it was fated that he should wear his old brown -coat at the wedding. But that was not his only annoyance. The evening -before he set out on his journey, he found that the horse he intended -to ride wanted two shoes; and fearing to trust his sons (both of whom -were smitten with the “belle o’ the barony”) in their present plight, -he brought the animal to the forge himself. No smith was to be found. -“Arrah, where the d----l is he?” cried the farmer, quite exasperated, and -addressing a girl standing knitting at the door of a house near the forge. - -“Sorra bit ov us knows, Misther Costigan,” replied the damsel; “but we’re -guessin’ that he is either at the public house, or at Miles Kavanagh’s, -hankerin’ afther his daughther, for betwixt the two places he spinds the -most ov his time.” - -Dennis Costigan said nothing, but he raised up his hands and -eyes--eloquence more expressive than words. Kate Kavanagh again! - -As he returned with his unshod horse, he pondered while jogging along. -“_What_ should be about that Kate Kavanagh above all girls to set a whole -parish astray?” And as he could find no solution of the enigma short of -sorcery, he set it down that she was “Ould Nick in petticoats!” “My two -hopeful sons is mad afther her.” said he, soliloquising; “the unfortunate -counsellor is fairly cracked about her; the smith is grown wild, an’ the -tailor knocked stupid; heaven only knows what way the carpinther an’ -mason is, for she has all the thrades, I’m thinkin’; an’ now all I pray -is that she may charm some thrav’ling tinker, an’ that he may carry her -off body an’ bones for the pace ov the counthry!” Ah! little did honest -Dennis know who was to be the next victim of merciless Kate Kavanagh! - -Well, next morning he set out for Bargie, after taking an affectionate -farewell of his good little wife, and after cautioning her repeatedly to -have a constant look-out after the “boys and Kate Kavanagh.” Fain would -he have persuaded his eldest son to accompany him to the wedding, but -Jem pathetically pleaded “pains in his bones an’ headache” (heartache he -should have said), and his father very unwillingly set off without him. - -Our farmer had only ridden a few miles, when, coming to a village, -like a true son of the soil he should stop at the “public” to taste -the “mountain dew.” Early as it was in the morning, it appeared there -were others as interestingly engaged, and vociferating loudly on some -important topic. Whatever it might be, our friend Dennis thought it could -be no concern of his, and without making any inquiry he called for his -dandy of punch. Overhead the revellers kept up a most astounding debate; -presently were heard shouts, curses, hustling, and blows, and the next -instant half a dozen combatants came head foremost tumbling down the -steep and narrow stairs together! - -“Fight it out fair, ye vilyens,” roared the hostess, as her face flamed -and her eye fired, “but fight it out ov _my_ house. Into the street with -every mother’s son ov ye, or know for what!” and seizing a pewter beer -quart, she leaped over the counter, and pummelled the backs and heads of -all within her reach, till she actually cleared them out of her house. - -“What an uproar they make in a quiet place!” said she, as she returned to -Dennis Costigan, who was laughing heartily at the spree. - -Now, there is something extraordinary in the blood of an Irishman. A -fight is his choicest amusement, and if he is not a principal actor in -one, he must be a spectator. Even our sober barony Forth farmer was -excited, and eagerly asked “what it was all about?” - -“All about nonsinse,” replied Mrs Boniface, “all about nonsinse when it -is about a woman. All the uproar was about a naibur ov yours, Misther -Costigan, who has turned the heads ov some ov our lads here, an’ many -others besides--one Miss Kavanagh. Do you know her?” - -“Know her!” exclaimed Dennis, and suddenly set down his glass on the -counter, just as he was about to put it to his lips. - -“What’s the matther, Mr Costigan?” asked the landlady alarmed; “don’t you -like yer punch?” - -“Oh, I likes it well,” returned Mr Costigan, in a sickly tone, “but -somehow there’s an all-overness over me that makes me very quare at -times, but it will wear off. Here’s to yer health, Mrs Roche!” and gulped -off the punch at a draught, as if he didn’t know well what he was about. -He then proceeded on his journey, inwardly determined not to stop again, -lest he might hear the dreaded name before he arrived at his sister’s, -and there he trusted he was free from the infliction. Nevertheless, the -name was mentioned at the wedding, and our farmer, under the influence -of good cheer and hilarity, laughed loud and long as his brain began to -whirl while thinking of the strange combination of circumstances that -brought Kate Kavanagh for ever before him. - -At this wedding was a certain buck of the name of Magrah. He was a rake -and a spendthrift, but, nevertheless, was artful and designing. He had -heard of the beauty of Kate Kavanagh, and knowing that Mr Costigan -was a neighbour of hers, he tormented him with questions about her, -particularly “if _she had a fortune_?” - -For the first time in his life Dennis Costigan told an untruth with an -evil intention. He protested that Kate Kavanagh had a fortune, and a -good one too; he praised her person and industrious habits; and at last -became so zealous in his friendship to his absent neighbours as to give a -cordial invitation to Mr Magrah to his house, for the purpose of seeing -and being introduced to the “belle o’ the barony,” but never once asking -what sort of person this Magrah was, or what was his means of living. - -Mr Pat Magrah very eagerly accepted the invitation, returned with Mr -Costigan, and was introduced to and charmed with handsome Kate Kavanagh, -and he found his quarters so good, and his time pass so agreeably, that -instead of a week he remained a month in the neighbourhood of the “flower -of Forth,” quite enamoured with her beauty and attractions. - -Dennis Costigan was delighted. Like a true friend to one or all of the -parties, he encouraged the courtship by every means in his power--even -lending money to the suitor to enable him to cut a dash in the eyes of -Miles Kavanagh and his daughter. - -At length the Bargie hero returned to his home for a short time, -protesting that “he was quite confused an’ ashamed ov inthrudin’ so long -on Misther Costigan’s hospitality, but that he would sartinly come again -to look afther his sweetheart, for none but he should thransplant the -‘flower ov Forth.’” - -On the third evening after his departure, as part of the family of the -Costigans were seated round the fire, Ned, our friend Dennis’s younger -son, ran in all in a hurry, exclaiming, “News, friends, news! there’s -a runaway match on the road to-night, for Denny Doran met a couple on -horseback, sweepin’ like the win’ into Waxford, an’ he’ll take his oath -Pat Magrah was the man, let who will be the woman!” - -“An’ Kate Kavanagh was sartinly the woman!” exclaimed Dennis Costigan, in -undisguised delight, while his son James turned as pale as death. But the -joy of the one and despair of the other was of short duration; for in the -next instant Kate Kavanagh herself rushed in breathless, and apparently -in much uneasiness. “Where’s Mary Costigan?” cried she anxiously, and -examining the group round the fire. All seemed surprised and alarmed at -her anxious appearance and inquiry, and Mrs Costigan repeatedly called -her daughter, but got no answer. - -“Oh! ’tis too true!” said Kate; “an’, Misther Costigan, I’m sorry to have -to say it. The scapegrace you brought to this neighbourhood has carried -off your own daughter! My father met them on the road to Waxford, an’ -knew them.” - -It would be impossible to describe the confusion of the family at this -announcement. For a time all were stupified with astonishment. Then the -brothers, giving vent to their rage in curses, sprang to their feet, and -rushed out of the house; while the father, stung by many conflicting -feelings, hung his head and remained powerless. - -“My child! my tendher dutiful child!” cried the distracted mother, -wringing her hands in an agony of weeping. “My child! my child!” “Whisht! -woman,” at last roared the farmer in a voice of thunder, unwilling to -let his supposed enemy have the satisfaction to see their distress and -confusion. “Whisht, I say! what has she done but got a good husband, what -they are all strivin’ for, young an’ ould? Whisht, I say! or if ye must -lament, lament that ye didn’t keep sitch notions out of her head till she -was sixteen, any how.” - -“She was full seventeen, Dennis,” interposed the mother, in all her -grief, as a woman anxious to defend her sex. “Don’t say the craithur was -forward beyant her years, for she was full seventeen last October.” - -Up started the farmer. “We’ll soon end that argamint,” said he, seizing a -candle, and striding furiously towards the parlour; “I have her age down -in black an white, in my pocket-book.” - -They could hear him unlock his desk and searching amongst papers; then -followed impatient mutterings, and at length a loud groan as if body -and soul were parted. All now rushed to the parlour, where they found -poor Costigan the image of heart-broken despair. He stood with his eyes -fixed and his face as pale as marble: one hand grasped a pocket-book that -seemed torn and empty, while the other hung listless by his side. - -“Marcy ov Heaven!” exclaimed the trembling wife, clinging to him for -support, “what new misforthin’ has befallen us now?” - -The farmer groaned heavily ere he replied; and then it was in a broken, -sunken voice--“We’re ruined, Alley! an’ robbed, an’ I desarve it! The -vilyen has not only taken our child from us, but robbed us of one -hundhred pounds! See, here is the desk, bruck open, and the pocket-book -empty, an’ she did it at his instigation!” - -This was blow on blow! Mrs Costigan was a weak and delicate woman. She -fell senseless to the ground, and was borne to her bed, from which she -never rose again. - -And thus was Dennis Costigan’s treachery rewarded. He had brought a -wretch to his house for the purpose of introducing him as an admirer -to his honest neighbour’s daughter, without once inquiring into his -character or circumstances; and the young fellow had cleverly turned the -visit to account; for instead of portionless Kate Kavanagh, he carried -off young and pretty Mary Costigan, and her hundred pounds! - -It is certain our barony Forth farmer felt this triple blow most -severely, and the more so from his consciousness that he deserved it, -and prepared the way for his misfortunes himself. But he was doomed to -feel his lapse from honour and fair dealing yet more acutely, when on the -day of his wife’s death he was accosted by his neighbour Miles Kavanagh, -as he was droopingly wandering about his fields, shunning the crowds -collected at the wake. - -“Misther Costigan,” began Miles abruptly--for the Irish peasant feels -too warmly to take time to shape his gratulations or condolences with -the go-about refinements of delicacy--“I am sorry for yer thrubble this -day, an’ the more so bekase Mrs Costigan was ever the kind and friendly -naibur, that never changed from hot to could like others. [Dennis -winced.] I also heerd ov yer loss in other respects, but that loss will -be soon made up, plaise God. In the main time, Misther Costigan, ye might -want a thrifle of ready cash for the expinses ov the wake an’ berrin’; -an’ as I’ve scraped together a matther ov a few pounds for the rint, but -which is not called for yet, I’d be very glad to lind it to a friend, an’ -may be you’d take it, an’ ye may pay me whin you plaise. Faix, sitch poor -men as me ought never to keep money long in the house for fear ov the -vilyens ov rogues.” - -Dennis Costigan was unable to speak, and without accepting the money he -motioned his honest neighbour away, and turned off abruptly. But Miles -Kavanagh was not a man to be deterred from doing a kind action. - -“Hut-tut! Mr Costigan,” he continued, “don’t turn away from an ould -naibur an’ friend. You think now that I bear a grudge to ye on account ov -that vilyen ye brought down to court my Kate. I know all, ye see; an’ -if I do, I freely forgive ye. Fathers, an’ ’specially rich fathers sitch -as you, are a little partiklar, I suppose, about who their sons would -marry, an’ it’s all right. But Dennis Costigan ought to have known us -betther! He ought to have known that neither I nor my child would seek -to enther any man’s family against his will, for he never seen any mean -or disaivin’ ways in us. But all’s forgiven an’ forgotten now; so don’t -be the laist suspicious ov us, but take the money that I freely offer, -if you want it, an’ you’ll make a poor man an’ naibur happy. Turn about, -man, an’ let us live in paice an’ good will while we’re on the earth -together.” - -Dennis Costigan stood, perpendicular as a poplar, with his back to -Miles Kavanagh while he was speaking, and the latter thought, from the -stiffness of the farmer’s air, that he had nerved himself up to break -sooner than bend, and that he was determined to retain his sturdy pride -to the last, and perhaps to cut with him altogether. To Miles’s surprise, -however, when he ceased speaking, portly Dennis wheeled right about, -still perpendicular, seized the hand of his honest friend, and, as if the -mere touch of a sympathising friend communicated a softness he was unused -to, he wept aloud! yes, wept! and they were the first bitter tears he had -ever shed. - -“But for the sake of human nathur, which I am glad to see so good,” said -Dennis Costigan afterwards, “I’d most rather ye’d have abused me; I could -have borne it betther!” - -Well, months passed over, and still the “belle o’ the barony” was making -sad havoc with the hearts of the beaus. She had already all the trades -enlisted under her banner, and it was a nice question whether she would -spare one bachelor in an entire parish, or not. Fathers and mothers still -complained, and the girls prayed that Kate Kavanagh were married, and out -of the way. Matters were daily growing worse and worse, “confusion worse -confounded,” in the country round. - -As a last resource, Dennis Costigan was reminded of his promised mission -to Miles Kavanagh, to “coax him to settle his daughter out of hand,” -and for the repose of the neighbourhood he agreed to do so. He now felt -a warm friendship for both father and daughter, and it would make him -really happy if he could be the means of assisting pretty Kate to a -husband every way worthy of her. Still he had not brought himself to wish -_his_ son married to her, for he had taken it into his head that Jem was -entitled to a girl with a couple of hundreds at least, and since his late -loss he was more anxious on that score than ever. - -At last, deeming himself bound in honour to delay no longer from -fulfilling his promise, Mr Costigan gravely proceeded to Miles Kavanagh’s -cottage. He found the “flower of Forth” busily engaged in her little -kitchen, scouring her deal tables and chairs, and singing merrily as she -scoured. The labour had thrown a lovely glow over her fine face, and her -smile was really bewitching as she welcomed Mr Costigan, and handed him a -chair. - -“Is yer father within, Miss Kavanagh?” inquired Dennis, as kindly as the -recollection of his son’s untoward situation would permit. - -“He is not, Mr Costigan,” Kate replied, “but I think he will be here -presently, so you have nothing for it but to sit with a wild girl like me -till he comes in.” - -Down plumped Mr Costigan, and to look at him one would imagine he had -come a-suitoring himself, so awkward and confused did he seem while -obliged to continue alone with the beautiful “plague upon earth.” He -turned his head away from her, stuck an old pipe in his mouth for -employment’s sake, and preserved a dead silence for ten minutes. Kate, -perceiving his mood, troubled him with little chat. At length, tired -of waiting for the father, the missionary condescended to address the -daughter; and she, judging from the contortions of his phiz, thought the -effort cost him as much as a spasm of cholera morbus. - -“Hem! haw! hum! I wondher very much that you don’t think ov changin’ yer -state, Miss Kavanagh. The marriage life is the happiest life ov all, as -I know (sighing deeply), an’ I would recommend ye to thry it:” and he -launched into a long harangue in praise of the honourable state, its -happiness, comfort, and safety, compared to a single life--so full of -peril to a female; to all of which our “belle o’ the barony” listened, -and assented as demurely as could be wished. After lauding the state, -and urging the necessity of it, he next proceeded to point out the -most eligible match in his opinion, recommending of all things “an -independent man, unburthened by fathers, mothers, sisters, or brothers; -a single man in every sense, with whom she could have everything her own -way, and no one to interfere;” and he named several whom he considered -would be unexceptionable, but to all of whom our Kate had a quick and -characteristic objection, as prompt and ready as if she had anticipated -the visit of the matrimonial delegate, and guessed his errand. This is a -specimen of the colloquy. After mentioning several others, - -“Well, what do you think ov long Jem Whalen?” - -“Why, that one pair of tongs in one house is enough.” - -“Oh, that won’t do! What do ye think ov John Barry? he’s a snug, warm -fella.” - -“Warm enough, for he’s the dickens for fightin’!” - -“Well, Redmond Connors, the carpinther?” - -“He’s a close shaver, but not to my taste.” - -“Pullilliew! you’ll never be plaised. Have ye anything to say agin Burn, -the mason?” - -“He’s too great a plastherer to be sincere.” - -“An’ what chance has the smith?” - -“He won’t forge _my_ fetthers, that’s all.” - -“An’ the tailor?” - -“Must stitch himself to another.” - -Here the dialogue broke off abruptly, for neither the missionary nor the -maiden could longer refrain from laughing; the former, though a grave and -reverend signior at all times, was perfectly overcome by Kate’s naiveté -and archness; and though he was farther than ever from attaining his -object, he was in perfect good humour. Miles Kavanagh soon after entered -the cottage, and much was he surprised to find his daughter and Mr -Costigan tete-a-tete, and on such excellent terms. Nor was the surprise -lessened, when he saw the farmer sit it out for two hours longer, still -laughing and still joking, as if he and Kate had ever been the best of -friends and banterers. At length Mr Costigan heavily arose from his seat, -and declaring that he would come again on the same business (he forgot -however to speak to Miles Kavanagh about it), he took his leave. - -And he did go again and again; and at the third visit Dennis Costigan -and Miles Kavanagh retired to an inner apartment. Kate neither knew nor -wished to know the subject of their confab; but she observed, that as the -farmer was retiring after the last visit, he and her father shook hands -as if clenching a bargain. “You’re mighty affectionate!” thought Kate; “I -wonder yez didn’t kiss!” - -As well as I can remember, it was about a fortnight from the day of our -friend Dennis Costigan’s visit to Miles Kavanagh’s cottage, that Watty -Colfer (Watty always walks with his head down; mind, his face is an ell -longer than any other face, so grave and thoughtful is he!) had just got -inside father Tobin’s gate, and closed it after him, when he saw his -reverence himself thundering down the avenue on St Patrick, his nag. - -“Yer sarvint, sur!” said Watty, very humbly, and hat in hand, and -propping himself against the shut gate, “could I make so bould as just to -spake one word to yer rivirince?” - -“Not one word!” replied the priest hastily, “if you were the bishop! I am -in too great a hurry. Lave my way and open the gate.” - -“Thin, God help me,” groaned Watty, but still keeping his position, “that -am neither priest nor bishop; I haven’t the head-piece for sitch great -min; an’ all clargy must have great heads to keep in the larnin’. Now, is -it a great weight intirely, sur?” - -The priest laughed in spite of his hurry, but as he well knew the man -he had to deal with, he checked himself immediately, and assuming as -determined a look as possible under the circumstances, he “commanded the -slieveen to open the gate for him.” - -Watty too knew his man. He knew every variation of the priest’s temper, -from its usual lake-like placidity, till it got up to boiling-water -heat. He thought it was beginning to “simmer” a little, but far away yet -from “bubbling and hissing;” and gratifying his own cool impudence, he -continued the process of “heating up.” - -“Why, thin, indeed, what I have to say won’t keep ye long, sur.” - -“Open the gate this instant!” thundered the priest. - -“Sartinly, sur,” quoth Watty, turning quickly round and pretending to -be very busy with the gate; “see this boult now! Och! my curse upon the -whole corporation ov smiths, includin’ my own dacent uncle who made this -same gate, an’ so stiff an’ bad, that all I can do won’t shoot back the -boult! A clever workman is a fine thing! An’ so you won’t listen to what -I have to say, sur?” - -“I can’t, I tell ye. I’m going in all haste to marry a couple.” - -“Och! if I knew that, I’d be very sorry to detain your rivirince! What I -have to say may well keep for another opportunity. See this curst boult -now! Throth the skin is torn off my fingers strivin’ to pull it back, an’ -yer rivirince in sitch a disperate hurry! But ye have the patience of Job -himself, beyant all doubt. God help the couple that’s expectin’ ye, sur! -And who are they, the craithurs?” - -The impatient churchman looked at his watch and groaned: but as the -inexorable gate would not open to let him pass through, he gratified the -newsmonger with the information that “the couple he was about to marry -were Dennis Costigan and Catherine, Miles Kavanagh’s daughter.” - -“Tunder an’ turf!” exclaimed Mr Colfer, opening his eyes as wide as he -could, and raising his hands to express the extremity of astonishment. -“Is it ould Dinnis Costigan, father to Jem, that’s goin’ to be married to -handsome Kate Kavanagh, the belle o’ the barony?--it’s quite onpossible!” - -“It’s not impossible,” said the priest, angrily: “and I see nothing -extraordinary in her father preferring to give her to a sensible steady -old man, than to a wild young one. But don’t I see the gate open, and you -pretending it was bolted? Oh! ye double-dyed slieveen, quit my way this -moment, or by all that’s good I’ll let you feel the weight of this,” and -he raised his horsewhip. - -“Och! wid all the pleasure in life!” quoth Watty, jumping quickly aside; -and the gate flew open as if by magic, through which Father Tobin dashed -at full speed. - -Watty then, sound in wind and limb, shot off through the fields--a short -cut to a certain cross-road, about a mile from the priest’s house, and -less than a quarter from Miles Kavanagh’s cottage, by which his reverence -should pass. Puffing a little, he was just in time to gravely touch his -hat as the priest cantered by. Then raising his voice he shouted after -him, “Ride aisy, ride aisy, yer rivirince; take things aisy, can’t ye? -Young James Costigan an’ Kate Kavanagh ran off together this mornin’, an’ -they’re now man an’ wife! Arrah, take things aisy, can’t ye?” - -“Oh! ye limb of Satan!” ejaculated the disappointed clergyman, as he -pulled up to hear these tidings, “why didn’t you tell me this before, and -not send me off on a fool’s errand?” - -“How could I, sur?” responded the slieveen, meekly, “when you war in -sitch a disperate hurry?--sure ye wouldn’t let me spake at all at all!” - -His reverence returned to his home, muttering denunciations upon Watty’s -devoted head; and Watty went his way, laughing immoderately at the -success of his joke. He had given his spiritual director a ride of a -mile or so without his breakfast, which no clerical stomach, Catholic -or Protestant, could put up with, unless with a wedding breakfast in -prospective. And he told but the truth after all. Young Costigan and -handsome Kate had that morning given the knowing old ones the slip, and -got married in Wexford; and Dennis, our portly friend Dennis, since he -couldn’t have the “belle o’ the barony” for his bride, put a good face -on the matter, and received her as his daughter-in-law. Twelve rejected -suitors were at the “hauling home;” amongst them Counsellor Shiel of -course, who favoured the company with a song made for the occasion, the -concluding lines of which we give: - - “Now industrious agriculthure transplants the “Flower of Forth,” - To a cosy situation all shelthered from the North!” - - M. G. R. - - - - -ON THE FOLLY OF SOWING BAD SEEDS BECAUSE THEY ARE CHEAP. - -BY MARTIN DOYLE. - - -A few months ago I saw in the shop window of a petty seedsman near -Dublin, an advertisement announcing the sale of grass seeds at two -shillings and eightpence per barrel of four bushels. I had the curiosity -to examine those seeds, which, as may be supposed from their price, -were a compound of the germs of weeds, with a small proportion of grass -seeds intermixed. I have no doubt that some poor and uncalculating petty -farmers were silly enough to purchase this trash on the penny-wise and -pound-foolish principle, and I well know that there is no point on which -greater ignorance prevails than on that of a proper selection of grass -seeds, although they should be sown with an accurate regard to the -nature of the soil, the number of years during which the land is to be -left in meadow or in pasturage, each of which conditions also requires a -different description of seeds. - -The successful establishment of grass seeds depends materially, besides -the clean and pulverised state of the land, on their adaptation to the -soil; and if that be in a state perfectly fit for their reception, a -much smaller quantity of seed will be sufficient than under the opposite -circumstances; and if the land be in a foul state previously to laying -it down, it is clear that the sowing of weed seeds, with a trifling and -uncertain admixture of true grass seeds, cannot render it cleaner. - -In practical result, the farmer who leaves his field to the generosity of -nature is more judicious, because in our humid climate the soil possesses -a tendency to generate the indigenous grasses, of which some are really -good, and which, from their overpowering qualities, soon dispossess those -that may have been sown, and form a close and excellent turf. But to sow -_weeds_ is inexpressibly absurd, and this the man does who buys such a -compound as that to which I have referred, or who sows them because he -happens to have them by some means, and is unwilling to have them lost. -Perhaps they have been collected from his own little rick of hay, which -he knows to have been of the worst quality, or some stable boy has given -him, or stolen for him, the dirty and perhaps fermented sweepings of a -nasty hay loft, in which bad hay had been stored, and he is unwilling to -throw away what he has so unluckily obtained: his _parkeen_ soon bears -testimony to his imprudence: and he admits, though reluctantly, that -the grass seeds which he had sown were not of the best quality, though -they were procured from a _hay loft_, when he perceives that they have -only introduced an artificial increase of bad herbage, which his little -stock of animals would unanimously reject, if hunger did not forbid such -fastidiousness. - -But the deluded purchaser very frequently forgets that though he has a -great _bulk_ for his money, he has a bad bargain; he does not consider -that the respectable seedsman, though he charges much more for his seeds, -gives a far better quality in general, and does not sell _dirt_ and -unprolific grass seeds in the compound which he supplies. Petty seedsmen, -no doubt, do so frequently; and how can it be otherwise, when their stock -is a motley contribution from farmers’ wives, hostlers, and labourers, -who collect every variety of good and bad seeds from every description -of meadow and soil? It is better to pay a great deal more for the best -seed, of which a far lesser proportion will suffice. I can conceive but -one case in which a rational farmer could deliberately use such defective -seed as that which I saw in the little huckster’s shop, namely, when he -is about to surrender his farm (being obligated to lay down his land -with grass), and has all that unamiable and inexcusable feeling which so -generally prompts men in such circumstances to act in defiance of their -great Christian principle of doing unto others as we would have them do -unto us. - -In this case, a selfish ill-natured tenant wishes to annoy his landlord, -and his own innocent successor, to the utmost of his power; and, -therefore, while adhering to the letter of his agreement--to sow grass -seeds--he breaks it in the spirit, and very effectually, in fact, too, by -substituting weeds under the denomination of grasses. - -A prudent man who is not a perfect judge himself of the matter, will -first consider the quality and nature of his land before he sows -grass seeds, and then consult Lawson’s Tables, which furnish precise -information on every particular as to the quality and quantity of seeds -for all soils, and whether for one, two, three years, or for permanent -pasture, and he will endeavour to obtain what he wants accordingly; not -that this is often an easy matter of accomplishment, for few seedsmen -have the varieties sufficiently distinct, although they are generally -polite enough to say that they have them so. - -But how can they be always sure of this? We know the great difficulty, -even in botanical gardens, of keeping the kinds separate, and the -rapidity with which grass seeds become commingled. The only certain way -is to raise the desired seeds in detached portions of land, perfectly -clean, and carefully cleared of intruding plants. Can the seedsman, with -the most honourable intentions and greatest caution, be himself secure -from the effects of negligence or wilful imposition? - -But to return to the case of the poor man who thinks he has a bargain -when he buys four bushels of bad grass seeds for half-a-crown. Though he -sees the bad effects in the inferiority of his herbage, and at first lays -the blame on the proper source, he actually persuades himself afterwards -(when _He_, who in his bounty doth “clothe the grass of the field” -throughout the whole earth, has covered the surface of his field with -natural herbage) that to the seeds which he had sown two or three years -previously, he is mainly to attribute what the prodigality of Nature, or, -more properly, the munificence of God, has supplied. - -The man who sows bad or ill-suited grass seeds, merely because he has -obtained them, and is unwilling to _lose_ the acquisition, reminds me of -an old lady who was for many years of her life in the habit of giving -annually (in the spring of the year) to her grandchildren, a regular -course of sulphur and treacle mixed up together, whether the recipients -required it or not. - -On one occasion, a new servant maid, unacquainted with this system, -was sent for the usual quantity of flour of sulphur, but by some -mismanagement she brought home a pound of flour of mustard. Her mistress -sent her back to the grocer from whom it had been bought, but from -previous jealousies or quarrels unnecessary to detail, he refused to take -it back again. The poor maid could not herself be expected to substitute -the required sulphur, and the old lady was determined that the mustard -should not be lost. She accordingly mixed it with the treacle instead of -the other substance, and actually ladled every particle of the compound -down the throats of her grandchildren and the servant maid, who consented -to take her share as a punishment for her inattention, until the whole -mixture was consumed. The old lady was less foolish than the farmer who -sows the seeds of weeds, because she had previously ascertained that the -flour of mustard was harmless; but the husbandman must know that those -seeds which are not genuine grass seeds are noxious to his land, by -rendering it foul, and it is therefore extravagance and not economy on -his part to use bad seeds, merely to save waste. - -I am sorry to say that the same indifference prevails among the lower -classes of our farmers as to seed in general. On this subject I shall -again occupy a page of the Journal in an early number. - - * * * * * - -A LAZY DOG.--Dr Arnaud d’Antilli, one day talking with the Duke de -Laincourt upon the new philosophy of M. Descartes, maintained that beasts -were mere machines; that they had no sort of reason to direct them; and -that when they cried or made a noise, it was only one of the wheels of -the clock or machine that made it. The Duke, who was of a different -opinion, replied, “I have now in my kitchen two turnspits which take -their turns regularly every other day to get into the wheel; one of -them not liking his employment, hid himself on the day he should have -wrought, so that his companion was forced to mount the wheel in his -stead; when released, by crying and wagging his tail, he made a sign for -those in attendance to follow him. He immediately conducted them to a -garret, where he dislodged the idle dog and bit him severely.”--_Dublin -University Magazine._ - - - - -CURIOUS COINCIDENCES. - - -One of the most fruitful sources of superstition, and that which has -been most productive of what are styled “well-founded and authenticated -stories of supernatural occurrences,” is that Protean monster known -in all its forms by the general appellation of “Remarkable or Curious -Coincidences.” - -The frequent occurrence of events precisely similar in their details, -though perfectly simple and ordinary individually, is apt to be -considered, first, as remarkable, and, if again repeated, wonderful. - -In a recent number of the Penny Journal mention is made of the curious -coincidence of three men having been found drowned at various times in -the course of the same winter, in the same river, and the same place, or -nearly, each with _two shirts_ on, having given rise to the belief in -that parish that it was unlucky to wear two shirts. - -But if persons should allow themselves to be guided in their actions by -such observances, their lives would become perfectly burthensome from the -constant state of watchfulness in which they would be obliged to live; -for instance, the following anecdote would show the absolute necessity -they would be under of ascertaining the names of their fellow-travellers, -lest any one rejoicing in the name of Hugh Williams should be amongst -them. - -The more juvenile readers of the Penny Journal must be informed that -the portion of the sea which flows between the island of Anglesea and -the coast of Wales, called the Menai Straits, which is now spanned by -the celebrated Menai suspension bridge, was passable, previously to -the erection of the bridge, only by boats, a regular ferry-boat plying -constantly at the place called Bangor ferry. On the 6th day of December, -in the year 1664, the ferry-boat, having eighty-one passengers on board, -was upset whilst crossing the Strait, and only one man was saved, whose -name was Hugh Williams. On the 6th day of December 1782, the boat then -plying, containing about sixty persons, was upset, and all were lost -excepting one passenger, whose name proved to be Hugh Williams. On -the 5th of August 1820, a similar fate befell twenty-five unfortunate -persons, one only of whom escaped, whose name was Hugh Williams! - -We should hope that none could now be found so weak, but certainly -there have been those who, having heard this story, would fear to trust -their precious lives in a ferry-boat with any one of the name of Hugh -Williams, but a little local knowledge would go far in removing such -an absurd apprehension, as indeed there are few of the most apparently -extraordinary events, the origin of which cannot be traced to simple -natural causes. - -The name of Williams prevails in the neighbourhood of Bangor, and Hugh -is a favourite Christian name throughout all Wales. It is very probable -that persons of the name of Williams, very possibly even Hugh Williams, -were lost amongst the passengers on each of those occasions, but these -were overlooked, whilst the coincidence of the individual saved being -each time of the same name, was observed and recorded; the circumstance -being simply accounted for by the ordinary rules of calculating odds -or chances, for where the name of Hugh Williams prevailed, there was -certainly a greater chance of one of that name being saved than one of -any other, and, as we have before remarked, no account was made of how -many Hugh Williamses perished. - - N. - - * * * * * - -INDUSTRY.--Let me say a word in behalf of this home-spun virtue. It may -seem superfluous, perhaps impertinent, to enforce industry upon the -hardest-working people in the world, as I conceive our good countrymen -to be; but I speak of it as a part of education--as a principle to be -inculcated upon childhood. Its proper limits I shall hereafter attempt -to define. In this country it is the duty of every individual to live -an active life. No one, even though he be rich, has a right to be idle -or useless. In the hive of bees there is a privileged class of drones; -but there the government is despotic, with a queen at its head. Ours -is a republican government, which admits of no drones, and tolerates -no aristocratic indolence. Nor is industry more a duty to society than -a source of individual happiness. There are no pleasures so sweet as -those earned by effort, no possessions so dear as those acquired by -toil. The truth is, that the main happiness of life consists in the -vigorous exercise of those faculties which God has given us. Thus it -usually happens that more enjoyment is found in the acquisition of -property than in its possession. How often does the rich man, surrounded -with every luxury, look back from the pinnacle which he has attained, -with fond regret, to those days of humble but happy toil when he was -struggling up the steep ascent of fortune! Make industry, then, a part of -fireside education. Teach it to your children as a point of duty; render -it familiar to them by practice. Personal exertion and ready activity -are natural to some children, and these hardly need any stimulus to the -performance of duties requiring bodily exertion. There are others who -have an indolence, a reluctance to move, either uniform or periodical, -in their very constitution. If neglected, these children will grow up in -the habit of omitting many duties, or of performing only those which are -agreeable. It is indispensable that such should be trained to patient -exertion, habituated to the performance of every duty in the right time -and the right way, even though it may require self-denial and onerous -toil. A person who cannot compel himself, from a mere sense of duty, to -overcome a slothful reluctance to do what is disagreeable, is but half -educated, and carries about him a weakness that is likely to prove fatal -to his success in life. Such a person may act vigorously by fits and -starts as he may be occasionally urged by impulse; but the good begun -will often remain unfinished, and, from subsequent negligence, will -result in final disaster. The only safe way is to found industry upon -principle, and establish it by habit. While, therefore, I would inculcate -industry, I would remark that it may be carried to excess. Every virtue -has its bordering vice. The extreme of courage touches upon the precincts -of rashness, and a step beyond the proper limit of industry brings you -into the dreary regions of avarice.--_Fireside Education, by S. G. -Goodrich, an American Author._ - - * * * * * - -THE SABBATH.--Nature always seemed to me to “keep Sabbath” in the -wilderness. I used to fancy that the wild birds were more quiet on -that day, sitting on the branches with their heads under their wings, -smoothing their plumage, or looking quietly about them, and sometimes -venturing a faint warble, scarcely above a whisper. And I have seen a -large wolfish animal stand for hours upon a dry log, on the bank of the -river, contemplating the stream, or gazing into the air; once or twice, -perhaps, starting suddenly a few paces, but then halting as if he had -given up the idea; and his tail all the while hanging listlessly down, -as if indicating that no enterprise could be undertaken on that day. -Just like the merchant who may be seen in the city, on a bright Sunday -morning, in clean shirt collar, and with hands thrust into his pockets, -loitering slowly down the street, or standing in ruminating attitude -at the corner, pondering carefully every step of the morrow’s tangled -path, or perhaps calculating the amount of time lost in Sundays, by the -whole world, taken individually and collectively from Moses’s day to -the present time; but on the whole, enduring the Sabbath with Christian -resignation. - - * * * * * - -CRITICS.--It is a little singular that the mass should attach much -importance to the small opinions of every-day critics. Because a man -happens to have the facilities of _publishing_ his views and opinions to -the world, though he be the veriest blockhead on earth, his verdict is -often of more than ordinary weight among men. Indeed, a Johnson could -not influence some men by his _verbal_ opinion, to the extent that an -ignoramus can influence them through “press and types.” The “dignity of -print” has a strange effect. Although it is but one man who speaks, and -he may have one hundred opponents who may argue successfully against -him, yet they will all fail with the public. But let either of them -_publish_ the same opinion, and the ore, which was rich and weighty, -becomes refined. Common critics, moreover, are always ready to find -imperfections, for thus will the public be made acquainted with their -_penetration_. In fact, many of them seem to think that to criticize _is_ -to find fault; “else (they reason) where is the necessity of criticism?” -It is said that any fool can fire a house. So can any man criticize a -book; but very few can build the one or write the other. Many of the -vinegar-critics of the day who haunt the shores of literature, would -utterly fail in penning even the _preface_ to a respectable book. It -is a recorded and well-known fact that many of our standard works were -rejected for the want of a publisher, owing to the unfavourable opinion -of stolid rule-and-figure critics; but when they came before the people, -who, judging from the impulses of the heart, are never wrong, how soon -was their verdict reversed! The PEOPLE are the only true tribunal. They -separate, with the hand of a refiner, the dross from the gold. By them -genius is preserved, and pretension discarded.--_Knickerbocker._ - - * * * * * - -The boxes of the opera, splendid as they are, and splendid as the -appearance of those in them is, do not breathe a spirit of enjoyment. -They are rather like the sick wards of luxury and idleness, where people -of a certain class are condemned to perform the quarantine of fashion for -the evening.--_Hazlitt._ - - * * * * * - -DECEIVERS.--We are born to deceive or to be deceived. In one of these -classes we must be numbered; but our self-respect is dependent upon -our selection. The practice of deception generally secures its own -punishment; for callous indeed must be that mind which is insensible of -its ignominy! But he who has been duped is conscious, even in the very -moment that he detects the imposition, of his proud superiority to one -who can stoop to the adoption of so foul and sorry a course. The really -good and high-minded, therefore, are seldom provoked by the discovery -of deception; though the cunning and artful resent it, as a humiliating -triumph obtained over them in their own vocations. - - * * * * * - -WIT.--Wit is the lightning of the mind, reason the sunshine, and -reflection the moonlight; for as the bright orb of night owes its lustre -to the sun, so does reflection owe its existence to reason. - - * * * * * - -PREMATURE WISDOM.--The premature wisdom of youth resembles the forced -fruit of our hot-houses; it looks like the natural production, but has -not its flavour or raciness. - - * * * * * - -POOR.--A term of reproach in England, and of pity in most other countries. - - * * * * * - -POETS AND ASTRONOMERS.--Poets view nature as a book in which they read a -language unknown to common minds, as astronomers regard the heavens, and -therein discover objects that escape the vulgar ken. - - * * * * * - -PEACE OF MIND.--Though peace of mind does not constitute happiness, -happiness cannot exist without it; our serenity being the result of -our own exertions, while our happiness is dependent on others: hence -the reason why it is so rare; for, on how few can we count? Our -wisdom, therefore, is best shown in cultivating all that leads to the -preservation of this negative blessing, which, while we possess it will -prevent us from ever becoming wholly wretched. - - - - -ANSWER TO THE ENIGMA IN No. 17. - - - Mr Teague, the enigma you sent me, my honey, - Must mean, I conjecture, a round bit o’ money; - But what it can be, is a regular stopper, - Unless it’s a coinage from some kind of copper; - Though your Dean of St Patrick’s did not like the stuff, - For this very fair reason--’twas not big enough. - So here goes a guess--and, in truth, to be plain, - It’s a good honest Penny your honour will mane. - Ah, Geordy, full oft have they tried to disgrace, - With buffets and blows, thy right royal old face; - Let them hammer away till they’re all in a pet, - For real solid worth thou’rt the best of the set. - E’en O’Connell must own, though he don’t like the mint, - That thou art the cream of his flourishing rint! - As for gold, it flies off like the chaff or the stubble, - Leaving little behind but vexation and trouble. - And that mealy-fac’d silver, experience of old - Says is only too apt to take wings after gold-- - In fact, I ne’er found, from the mohur to piastre, - That one kind or other went slower or faster; - Do just as you like, it seems a thing plann’d, - That one of those vagrants shall ne’er be on hand. - We well know what wonders a Penny can do, - What instruction and comfort a mite will bestow. - The stores of the world, its rust and its lumber, - Come brighten’d and polish’d in each penny number. - The well-spring of knowledge is open to all-- - The Penny has spread it through cottage and hall. - So now, my friend Teague, let the great have the guinea. - You and I’ll be contint if we’ve always a PINNY. - - * * * * * - - Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at - the Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane, - College Green, Dublin.--Agents:--R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley, - Paternoster Row, London; SIMMS and DINHAM, Exchange Street, - Manchester; C. DAVIES, North John Street, Liverpool; J. DRAKE, - Birmingham; SLOCOMBE & SIMMS, Leeds; FRASER and CRAWFORD, - George Street, Edinburgh; and DAVID ROBERTSON, Trongate, - Glasgow. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. -32, February 6, 1841, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH PENNY JOURNAL, FEB 6, 1841 *** - -***** This file should be named 54748-0.txt or 54748-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/7/4/54748/ - -Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by JSTOR www.jstor.org) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 32, February 6, 1841 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: May 20, 2017 [EBook #54748] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH PENNY JOURNAL, FEB 6, 1841 *** - - - - -Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by JSTOR www.jstor.org) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> - -<h1>THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.</h1> - -<table summary="Headline layout"> - <tr> - <td class="smcap">Number 32.</td> - <td class="center">SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 1841.</td> - <td class="right smcap">Volume I.</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class="figcenter gap4" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/kate.jpg" width="500" height="440" alt="Kate Kavanagh" /> -</div> - -<h2>HANDSOME KATE KAVANAGH.</h2> - -<p>In that fertile district of the county Wexford, the barony of -Forth, distinguished for its comfortable cottages and general -good husbandry, lived Dennis Costigan, a rich farmer. His -farm was large, well stocked, and in high condition; his dwelling-house -was furnished as a farmer’s house should be, and -it was as cleanly and neat as it was commodious. His wife -was tidy, notable, and good-tempered, and his three children -were such as would please a father—well-formed in person -and virtuous in mind. Then, should not our friend Dennis -Costigan have been a happy man? He would have been so -<em>perhaps</em>—for there is ever to be a stumbling block in our road -to happiness—<em>but</em> that the first object that glared upon his -eyes in each morning’s sun was the white low cottage of his -next neighbour Miles Kavanagh. Yet that cottage was not an -ugly feature in the landscape. It was small and low, but as -white as the whitest lime could make it; it was neatly thatched -too, and its small casements were never broken or patched. -A few honeysuckles and roses crept up its walls, and it was -surrounded by a hedge of hazels and sallows, that lent it an -air of comfort and seclusion. Its owner, at least, thought it a -pretty spot, and that he was a happy man indeed to possess -it and its two or three adjoining acres; and as he trimmed his -hedges, and looked pleasantly on all around—the fruits of his -industry and labour—he little thought that any one could -look upon <em>his</em> cot and farm with other eyes than those of admiration; -and least of all that he, or aught of his, was the -source of care or annoyance to his wealthier neighbour. And -why did wealthy Dennis Costigan glance lowringly on this -humble tenement? Was it that, like his betters, he thought a -poor man’s dwelling always an unsightly object? and that, -like many a grasping spirit, all land convenient to his own -was misappropriated if not in his possession? It was not so. -Dennis Costigan envied no man his possessions. He was a -right specimen of a farmer, independent, upright, honest, and -industrious, contented with what providence had given him, -and willing to help a neighbour with purse and hand if required. -And if he <em>did</em> grumble a little, and turn away his eyes -quickly as if in pain, from the cottage we have mentioned,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> -many another father with hopeful sons would do the same, for -it contained a gem that would grace the proudest castle in -Ireland—beautiful, charming, innocent Kate Kavanagh, but -who had no fortune.</p> - -<p>One fine morning in August, farmer Costigan sallied forth -at the head of a regiment of reapers armed for the destruction -of a large field of wheat, but scarcely had he got outside -his yard when he missed two of his most efficient men—his -two sons.</p> - -<p>“Where can those gorsoons ov mine be, boys?” inquired -he of the reapers. “In the arms ov <em>Murphy</em>, to be sure,” -answered a little shrill-piped fellow, the crack orator of the -country, which, and the circumstance of his name being alike, -procured him the cognomen of “Counsellor Shiel.” “In the -arms ov Murphy, to be sure, afther thrippin’ it all night on -the light funtastic toe with that flower ov Forth an’ belle ov -the barony, Kate Kavanagh.”</p> - -<p>“Arrah, can’t ye speak in plain English, man?” thundered the -farmer with kindling eyes—the name just mentioned always -putting him in a passion. “What the dickens does I know -ov funtastic toes or heels?”</p> - -<p>“Very little indeed, <em>litherally</em>,” quoth the counsellor, laughing, -and glancing sarcastically at the farmer’s large feet, cased -in tremendous brogues shod with hob-nails; “very little -<em>litherally</em>, but you might metaphorically, for all that. But -you have no more poethry or bells letthers in ye than a bag -ov beans!”</p> - -<p>“Nor you more common sense than a goose.”</p> - -<p>“Stop!” cried the orator suddenly, in a tone of command -enough to arrest a retreating army, and motioning to the -body of reapers. “Stop, one an’ all ov ye, an’ listen! It -would be a sin to let this profane ignirince continue longer.” -Then addressing our barony Forth farmer with a countenance -in which pity and ineffable contempt were blended, “Is it in -the nointeenth centhery that you call me a goose, by way ov -contimpt? Oh ignorant of nathral histhry, jography, bells -letthers, pelite litherature altogether! For, know, onforthenate -man, that it was the <em>cackle</em> ov that same illustrious baist, -a goose, that saved what?—where do you think?”</p> - -<p>“Yer mother’s hen-roost from the fox, is it?”</p> - -<p>“No, haithen, but imparial Rome!!!”</p> - -<p>The might, the majesty of the “counsellor’s” tones and -gestures as he uttered the words, struck amazement into the -hearts of his hearers! They had considered him a clever fellow, -but by no means the great man he then appeared! Enchanted -with his eloquence, not a few of his auditors were -certain that if he were in Parliament, he would do more for -Ireland than Mr O’Connell and all his friends; while the remainder, -as much delighted with his energy, lamented that -“the craithur wasn’t two fut higher, for he had a great -spirit intirely!”</p> - -<p>The happy “counsellor” perceived the impression he had -produced, and in his altitude was proceeding to tell them when -and how “imparial Rome” was saved, when his attention was -arrested by an approaching object, and with an instantaneous -change of attitude and tone he exclaimed,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘But, soft! what light from yonder <em>meadow</em> breaks?</div> -<div class="verse">It is the aist, an’ Cath’rine is the sun!’”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>as a tall and very handsome girl, with the finest eyes and -brightest smile imaginable, met them at the entrance of the -wheat field.</p> - -<p>“A blithe mornin’ to Misther Costigan,” said the maiden, -“an’ the same to all the raipers!”</p> - -<p>“Oh! a good morra,” returned Mister Costigan very coldly -and with looks still colder, “an’ I wondher above all things -what is it that takes Miss Kavanagh out of her bed so early?”</p> - -<p>“Just what ought to rouse many more ov us, Misther Costigan,” -replied Kate spiritedly—“to help a naibur, an’ I am -come to offer ye all the ’sistance in my power to-day, aither -as binder or raiper, whichever ye may want worst.”</p> - -<p>“I want neither,” returned the farmer gruffly, and turning -on his heel; “an’, besides, I could not possibly think of puttin’ -sitch delicate white hands to sitch coorse work!”</p> - -<p>“The belle o’ the barony” coloured high at the affront -couched in this speech, and she hastily answered that “her -hands, sitch as they war, could earn her bread for her when -she required it; an’ if <em>she</em> didn’t find them too tendher for work, -Misther Costigan needn’t find fault with them. But,” -added she more kindly, “you have a rough manner but a kind -heart, Dennis Costigan, an’ I won’t mind what you say to me. -Moreover, I’ll stay with ye to-day, whether you be willin’ or -not, aither as binder or raiper.”</p> - -<p>Dennis Costigan, “kind as his heart” was, would have -given a sovereign of “bright goold” that Kate Kavanagh and -her bright eyes were a few miles off at the moment; but as he -saw that she carried all before her, he thought it better not -to give her any further offence, and accordingly, but with a -very bad grace, he accepted her services.</p> - -<p>“Where be’s Jem and Ned Costigan this mornin’?” whispered -Kate to the counsellor, who was flourishing away gallantly -at her side.</p> - -<p>The man of eloquence flung himself into an attitude, laid -his hand upon his heart, and looked languishingly, as he -“assured her that her charms were railly too potently -enfluential over the hearts ov her admirers, as she not only -deprived thim ov the needful refreshment of nathur, oblivious -slumber, but she also hendhered them from doin’ their daily -manual imploymints. For instance,” said he, “you see -<em>Saul</em>, the orb ov day, is high up in his meraydian hemisphare, -an’ those inamoured swains are still pressin’ their beds, or -rather cooches, in the arms ov Murphy, mainin’ sleep or -Somnus——”</p> - -<p>“An’ what have I to do with that?” said Kate, laughing -heartily. “Do ye think I gave thim a sleepy potion?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! my beautiful flower ov Forth!” sighed out the sentimental -counsellor, “any thing but a sleepy potion do you -give yer lovers! if ’tis anything, sure I am ’tis a draught to -banish sleep for ever! But consarnin’ those vagrant truints -ye spaik ov, I ondherstand that you kep thim up beyant their -ushial hours ov repose last night, admirin’ yer graceful movemints -in yer <em>Turpfiscorian</em> revels, mainin’ the dance at Judy -Colfer’s; an’ that man, their father, who is not to be moved -with ‘concord of sweet sounds,’ or any sounds at all but the -chink ov money, almost snapt my head off a while ago bekase -I tould him so. Ah! my Catherine dear, I fear you’ll incounther -opposition in that quarther. But ‘<i lang="la">nel desperantum</i>,’ say -I, which mains in plain English, ‘never dispair.’”</p> - -<p>Catherine said nothing, but instantly began to sing, at the -top of her fine rich voice, a song the counsellor had composed -in praise of her, and shortly afterwards she had the -pleasure to see the two sleepy truants bounding across the -yard towards the wheat-field, as if her well-known notes had -awaked them.</p> - -<p>While this magical song was thrilling on all hearts, Kate -Kavanagh, the witching Kate! stood apart from the others, -singing and laughing alternately, her reaping-hook resting on -one arm, and dressed in the every-day fashion of the place—the -striped linsey short petticoat, and loose bedgown or wrapper, -a dress that would make an ordinary woman frightful, -and straw hat, the leaf of which, turned up before and pinned -to the crown, displayed her sable locks and fair high forehead -to perfection. And many a side-glance the anxious father, -Dennis Costigan, cast at this arrangement of Kate’s headgear, -as he broadly hinted that “for sartin Miss Kavanagh’s -complexion would be intirely spiled if she showed it too much -to the sun.”</p> - -<p>“Tut!” was Kate’s good-humoured reply, “‘the life ov -an ould hat is to cock it,’ as we say in the counthry. -The leaf ov it was flappin’ in my eyes; the lads couldn’t see -me, nor I them, so a pin settled the bisness;” and nothing -could become her fine Spanish face better, though her toilet -was made in perfect carelessness, for dashing Kate had other -charms to depend on besides beauty. Imprimus, she was the -first dancer in the country, outdoing her dancing-master himself -at “jigs, reels, thribbles, doubles, hornpipes, and <em>petticoatees</em>.” -She was a <em>killing</em> dancer in both senses of the word, -for no boy or girl could keep it up with the spirit of Kate -Kavanagh, and she generally disabled six or eight prime beaus -at every “hop” she appeared at, which was nearly every -night. The worst of it was (as the sorely annoyed fathers -and mothers of the neighbourhood said), “though she fairly -kilt all the boys that danced with her, yet sorra one but herself -would sarve them for a partner after all!” Then she was, -as Orator Shiel said, “Apollyo in petticoats for singin’!” -and songs of love, murder, hunting, war, and sea, would charm -with double effect, borne on the musical notes of Kate Kavanagh. -In short, she was “metal most,” but also too “attractive;” -and loud complaints and grievances at last came thundering -on her devoted head. “Boys growin’ lazy and crazy—work -undone or done badly—time spent an’ mis-spent—messages -forgotten and mistaken—girls neglected—matches -broken—eternal dancin’, fightin’, black eyes an’ bloody noses”—all, -all was laid in a bundle at the door of handsome, animated, -dashing, yet very innocent Kate Kavanagh.</p> - -<p>“What will be done with her at all at all?” iterated the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> -suffering fathers and mothers all round the country. “What -will we do with her at all?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell ye, naiburs,” responded one of the elders, as a -body of them returned from chapel on the Sunday after -Mosey Fortune’s great “flare up,” at which three topping -bloods fought for the honour of first figuring on the floor with -the “belle o’ the barony.” “Let a respectable dacent naibur, -sitch as Dennis Costigan here for example, go to her father -as a friend to advise him to get his daughther married out ov -hand, for fear some harm will happen. An’, throth, harm <em>will</em> -happen; for if she’s not the destruction ov herself, she will -be the ruination ov others. So, Misther Costigan, let you be -the man to spake to Miles Kavanagh.”</p> - -<p>“Agreed,” said Dennis Costigan, who was one of the party, -and also a suffering father; and on the ensuing Thursday he -intended to proceed on the mission.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, Kate Kavanagh, never dreaming of the -grand hubbub about her, assisted to cut down Mr Costigan’s -wheat; and so full of songs, jokes, and attractions was she, that -it was observed, even by the farmer himself, that the men, -old and young, surpassed themselves at reaping that day. -Indeed, Kate set them an excellent pattern; for, notwithstanding -that her tongue moved in double-quick time, she took -care that her hands should be equally nimble; and at nightfall, -thanks to Kate and the influence of her black eyes, sharp -and bright as her sickle, the very large field of wheat was cut -down, bound, and stooked to the owner’s satisfaction. Yet, -after all, the “flower of Forth” bloomed too near Dennis, -or rather his sons, to allow him to be perfectly content.</p> - -<p>“How yer father squints at me!” observed Kate to James -Costigan, her ardent admirer, and to whom, by the way, she -contrived to keep close during the day. “He looks at me as -if I was a crab apple, an’ he had just taken a bite. Wouldn’t -it be the best ov a good joke, now, if I’d make him change his -tune in spite ov himself?”</p> - -<p>Jem looked at her very tenderly as he replied, “Ye do -as you like with <em>us</em>, Kate darlin’, but I doubt yer power over -my father. He is flent to purty girls, an’ above all to you.”</p> - -<p>“We shall see,” said Kate; and that very evening, between -coaxing and pulling, she actually brought the portly -farmer, albeit in no dancing mood, to dance with her (when -Peter Hamilton and his violin <em>happened</em> in after supper), to -the amazement and amusement of a kitchen full of spectators, -though, as honest Dennis confessed while wiping his -broad brows, “he didn’t take sitch a spree for ten years -afore!” Handsome Kate at the end of it looked knowingly -at Jem Costigan, as much as to say, “You see this, and you’ll -see more.”</p> - -<p>The next morning an express arrived to Dennis Costigan -with the news that his sister’s daughter, Miss Peggy Malone, -was about to “change her state,” and that her uncle’s company -was required at the wedding.</p> - -<p>“Och, murther!” cried the farmer when he had sufficiently -expressed his surprise at the news, “this ould brown coat ov -mine will never do for a weddin’!—turn it which way I will, it -looks shabby enough—pieced at the elbows an’ torn at the -cuffs! So, Jem, asthore, take the black mare an’ set off this -minnit to Waxford, an’ buy me the makin’s ov a coat an’ -waistcoat ov good green cloth; it always became my complexion. -An’, Jem, for yer head don’t make any mistake this -time. Those three months past you’re full ov mistakes, an’ -nothin’ else.”</p> - -<p>“Is it me makes mistakes!” quoth Jem indignantly; “that’s -what I never did yet, except wanst or twice, an’ I’ll not begin -now.” And he mounted the mare, and turned her head towards -Wexford. But as he should pass Miles Kavanagh’s -cottage, “it would be only right an’ proper to ax if he or Kate -had any commands for town.” And—and—when he got to -Wexford, he quite forgot the colour his father had ordered, -and, thinking of Kate Kavanagh’s hair and eyes, he bought -black.</p> - -<p>Well, never was man in a greater fume than our friend -Dennis Costigan when he saw his son’s purchase. “Black! -black!” he repeated again and again, as he held up the -cloth and indignantly scowled at it and its purchaser, “black -for a weddin’! Oh, ye born nathural! what on earth put it -into yer head to buy black for a weddin’? But I see the -thruth in yer eyes this minnit! Ye seen that—that—plague -upon earth, Kate Kavanagh, afore ye wint to Waxford, an’ -she, as ushial, put every wise thought out ov yer head. -Black coat at a weddin’!—who ever seen the like afore?”</p> - -<p>It was in vain that poor Jem explained that “the cloth was -not all out black, but what was called Oxfert-grey—a mighty -ginteel colour, an’ sitch as was worn by all fathers ov families.”</p> - -<p>“That’s as much as to say that it is worn by all ould min?” -said the father, nothing better pleased. “What a judge ye -are! But as the cloth is bought, I must keep it I suppose, an’ -I’ll take it to the tailor’s myself, for fear ye’d make some other -confounded blundher. I wouldn’t wondher if ye’d tell him to -make it a spincer-jacket without skirts, ye have sitch a janious -for mistakes!” And putting the parcel of cloth under his -arm, he set out for Jemmy Nowlan’s domicile.</p> - -<p>There he saw no one but the tailor’s old mother sitting -very melancholy over the fire.</p> - -<p>“Can I see yer son Jemmy, widda Nowlan?” asked the -farmer.</p> - -<p>“Och, asthore machree, Misther Costigan,” said the widow, -setting up a keen, and rocking herself about, “ye may see him -an’ welkim, but a quare sight ye’ll see whin ye sees him; an’, -linamachree! the worst ov it is, he can’t see ye now.”</p> - -<p>“Why, what’s the matther?” demanded Mr Costigan -alarmed. “I hope he’s not dead?”</p> - -<p>“He’s not dead, but he’s kilt intirely,” sobbed the distressed -parent, “wid the lambastin’ he got ere-last night at the -dance at Dinny Doran’s.”</p> - -<p>“Well, an’ what takes <em>him</em> to dances?” said the farmer in -a heat. “Sure the like shred ov him ought to stay at home -an’ mind his bisness.”</p> - -<p>“Pulliliew! is that the feelin’ ye has for yer fella-craithurs, -Misther Costigan. But indeed I often sed that same to him -myself. ‘Stay at home, honey,’ I says to him, ‘an’ don’t be -losin’ yer sleep an’ flittherin’ yer slippers at them dances.’ -‘Hould yer whisht, mother,’ he’ll say to me thin (for he is a -mighty obaydient child), ‘love sthrikes the little as well as the -big, an’ I wouldn’t have a sowl above buttons if I wouldn’t -take every opportunity ov meetin’ an’ coortin’ Kate Kavanagh.’ -So ye see the win’ sits in that quarther, Misther Costigan.”</p> - -<p>Mr Costigan actually stamped on the floor with passion -when he heard the name of Kate Kavanagh; and as the tailor’s -mother perceived unusual anger in his countenance, she flattered -herself that it was all sympathy for her “darlint -Jemmy,” and she hastened to give him the particulars “ov -the murdher” foul and unnatural. “So now, my darlint -Misther Costigan,” she concluded, “his poor eyes is black -an’ blue, and closed up into the bargain, an’ he couldn’t -handle a needle if it was for Misther Grogan Morgan himself—God -bless him for the fine lan’lord that he is.”</p> - -<p>If poor Mrs Nowlan knew but all, little sympathy had her -wealthy visitor for her battered son, when he understood the -cause of his woes, and her pathetic touches of tenderness -went for nothing. Muttering something about “hanging all -fools and mothers of fools,” he took a gruff leave of the -widow, and returned home with his cloth. There was no -other tailor nearer than Wexford, and it was fated that he -should wear his old brown coat at the wedding. But that was -not his only annoyance. The evening before he set out on -his journey, he found that the horse he intended to ride wanted -two shoes; and fearing to trust his sons (both of whom -were smitten with the “belle o’ the barony”) in their present -plight, he brought the animal to the forge himself. No smith -was to be found. “Arrah, where the d——l is he?” cried -the farmer, quite exasperated, and addressing a girl standing -knitting at the door of a house near the forge.</p> - -<p>“Sorra bit ov us knows, Misther Costigan,” replied the -damsel; “but we’re guessin’ that he is either at the public -house, or at Miles Kavanagh’s, hankerin’ afther his daughther, -for betwixt the two places he spinds the most ov his time.”</p> - -<p>Dennis Costigan said nothing, but he raised up his hands -and eyes—eloquence more expressive than words. Kate Kavanagh -again!</p> - -<p>As he returned with his unshod horse, he pondered while -jogging along. “<em>What</em> should be about that Kate Kavanagh -above all girls to set a whole parish astray?” And as -he could find no solution of the enigma short of sorcery, he -set it down that she was “Ould Nick in petticoats!” “My -two hopeful sons is mad afther her.” said he, soliloquising; -“the unfortunate counsellor is fairly cracked about her; -the smith is grown wild, an’ the tailor knocked stupid; -heaven only knows what way the carpinther an’ mason is, for -she has all the thrades, I’m thinkin’; an’ now all I pray is -that she may charm some thrav’ling tinker, an’ that he may -carry her off body an’ bones for the pace ov the counthry!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> -Ah! little did honest Dennis know who was to be the next -victim of merciless Kate Kavanagh!</p> - -<p>Well, next morning he set out for Bargie, after taking an -affectionate farewell of his good little wife, and after cautioning -her repeatedly to have a constant look-out after the -“boys and Kate Kavanagh.” Fain would he have persuaded -his eldest son to accompany him to the wedding, but Jem pathetically -pleaded “pains in his bones an’ headache” (heartache -he should have said), and his father very unwillingly -set off without him.</p> - -<p>Our farmer had only ridden a few miles, when, coming to -a village, like a true son of the soil he should stop at the -“public” to taste the “mountain dew.” Early as it was in -the morning, it appeared there were others as interestingly -engaged, and vociferating loudly on some important topic. -Whatever it might be, our friend Dennis thought it could be -no concern of his, and without making any inquiry he called -for his dandy of punch. Overhead the revellers kept up a -most astounding debate; presently were heard shouts, curses, -hustling, and blows, and the next instant half a dozen combatants -came head foremost tumbling down the steep and -narrow stairs together!</p> - -<p>“Fight it out fair, ye vilyens,” roared the hostess, as her -face flamed and her eye fired, “but fight it out ov <em>my</em> house. -Into the street with every mother’s son ov ye, or know for -what!” and seizing a pewter beer quart, she leaped over the -counter, and pummelled the backs and heads of all within -her reach, till she actually cleared them out of her house.</p> - -<p>“What an uproar they make in a quiet place!” said she, -as she returned to Dennis Costigan, who was laughing heartily -at the spree.</p> - -<p>Now, there is something extraordinary in the blood of an -Irishman. A fight is his choicest amusement, and if he is -not a principal actor in one, he must be a spectator. Even -our sober barony Forth farmer was excited, and eagerly -asked “what it was all about?”</p> - -<p>“All about nonsinse,” replied Mrs Boniface, “all about -nonsinse when it is about a woman. All the uproar was -about a naibur ov yours, Misther Costigan, who has turned -the heads ov some ov our lads here, an’ many others besides—one -Miss Kavanagh. Do you know her?”</p> - -<p>“Know her!” exclaimed Dennis, and suddenly set down -his glass on the counter, just as he was about to put it to -his lips.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matther, Mr Costigan?” asked the landlady -alarmed; “don’t you like yer punch?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I likes it well,” returned Mr Costigan, in a sickly tone, -“but somehow there’s an all-overness over me that makes me -very quare at times, but it will wear off. Here’s to yer health, -Mrs Roche!” and gulped off the punch at a draught, as if he -didn’t know well what he was about. He then proceeded on -his journey, inwardly determined not to stop again, lest he -might hear the dreaded name before he arrived at his sister’s, -and there he trusted he was free from the infliction. Nevertheless, -the name was mentioned at the wedding, and our farmer, -under the influence of good cheer and hilarity, laughed loud -and long as his brain began to whirl while thinking of the -strange combination of circumstances that brought Kate -Kavanagh for ever before him.</p> - -<p>At this wedding was a certain buck of the name of Magrah. -He was a rake and a spendthrift, but, nevertheless, was artful -and designing. He had heard of the beauty of Kate Kavanagh, -and knowing that Mr Costigan was a neighbour of hers, he -tormented him with questions about her, particularly “if -<em>she had a fortune</em>?”</p> - -<p>For the first time in his life Dennis Costigan told an untruth -with an evil intention. He protested that Kate Kavanagh -had a fortune, and a good one too; he praised her person -and industrious habits; and at last became so zealous in his -friendship to his absent neighbours as to give a cordial invitation -to Mr Magrah to his house, for the purpose of seeing and -being introduced to the “belle o’ the barony,” but never once -asking what sort of person this Magrah was, or what was his -means of living.</p> - -<p>Mr Pat Magrah very eagerly accepted the invitation, returned -with Mr Costigan, and was introduced to and charmed -with handsome Kate Kavanagh, and he found his quarters so -good, and his time pass so agreeably, that instead of a week -he remained a month in the neighbourhood of the “flower of -Forth,” quite enamoured with her beauty and attractions.</p> - -<p>Dennis Costigan was delighted. Like a true friend to one -or all of the parties, he encouraged the courtship by every -means in his power—even lending money to the suitor to enable -him to cut a dash in the eyes of Miles Kavanagh and his -daughter.</p> - -<p>At length the Bargie hero returned to his home for a short -time, protesting that “he was quite confused an’ ashamed ov -inthrudin’ so long on Misther Costigan’s hospitality, but that -he would sartinly come again to look afther his sweetheart, -for none but he should thransplant the ‘flower ov Forth.’”</p> - -<p>On the third evening after his departure, as part of the -family of the Costigans were seated round the fire, Ned, -our friend Dennis’s younger son, ran in all in a hurry, exclaiming, -“News, friends, news! there’s a runaway match on -the road to-night, for Denny Doran met a couple on horseback, -sweepin’ like the win’ into Waxford, an’ he’ll take his -oath Pat Magrah was the man, let who will be the woman!”</p> - -<p>“An’ Kate Kavanagh was sartinly the woman!” exclaimed -Dennis Costigan, in undisguised delight, while his son James -turned as pale as death. But the joy of the one and despair -of the other was of short duration; for in the next instant -Kate Kavanagh herself rushed in breathless, and apparently -in much uneasiness. “Where’s Mary Costigan?” cried she -anxiously, and examining the group round the fire. All -seemed surprised and alarmed at her anxious appearance and -inquiry, and Mrs Costigan repeatedly called her daughter, -but got no answer.</p> - -<p>“Oh! ’tis too true!” said Kate; “an’, Misther Costigan, -I’m sorry to have to say it. The scapegrace you brought to -this neighbourhood has carried off your own daughter! My -father met them on the road to Waxford, an’ knew them.”</p> - -<p>It would be impossible to describe the confusion of the -family at this announcement. For a time all were stupified -with astonishment. Then the brothers, giving vent to their -rage in curses, sprang to their feet, and rushed out of the -house; while the father, stung by many conflicting feelings, -hung his head and remained powerless.</p> - -<p>“My child! my tendher dutiful child!” cried the distracted -mother, wringing her hands in an agony of weeping. “My -child! my child!” “Whisht! woman,” at last roared the -farmer in a voice of thunder, unwilling to let his supposed -enemy have the satisfaction to see their distress and confusion. -“Whisht, I say! what has she done but got a good husband, -what they are all strivin’ for, young an’ ould? Whisht, I -say! or if ye must lament, lament that ye didn’t keep sitch -notions out of her head till she was sixteen, any how.”</p> - -<p>“She was full seventeen, Dennis,” interposed the mother, in -all her grief, as a woman anxious to defend her sex. “Don’t -say the craithur was forward beyant her years, for she was -full seventeen last October.”</p> - -<p>Up started the farmer. “We’ll soon end that argamint,” -said he, seizing a candle, and striding furiously towards the -parlour; “I have her age down in black an white, in my -pocket-book.”</p> - -<p>They could hear him unlock his desk and searching amongst -papers; then followed impatient mutterings, and at length a -loud groan as if body and soul were parted. All now rushed -to the parlour, where they found poor Costigan the image of -heart-broken despair. He stood with his eyes fixed and his -face as pale as marble: one hand grasped a pocket-book that -seemed torn and empty, while the other hung listless by his -side.</p> - -<p>“Marcy ov Heaven!” exclaimed the trembling wife, clinging -to him for support, “what new misforthin’ has befallen -us now?”</p> - -<p>The farmer groaned heavily ere he replied; and then it -was in a broken, sunken voice—“We’re ruined, Alley! an’ -robbed, an’ I desarve it! The vilyen has not only taken our -child from us, but robbed us of one hundhred pounds! See, -here is the desk, bruck open, and the pocket-book empty, an’ -she did it at his instigation!”</p> - -<p>This was blow on blow! Mrs Costigan was a weak and -delicate woman. She fell senseless to the ground, and was -borne to her bed, from which she never rose again.</p> - -<p>And thus was Dennis Costigan’s treachery rewarded. He -had brought a wretch to his house for the purpose of introducing -him as an admirer to his honest neighbour’s daughter, -without once inquiring into his character or circumstances; -and the young fellow had cleverly turned the visit to account; -for instead of portionless Kate Kavanagh, he carried off young -and pretty Mary Costigan, and her hundred pounds!</p> - -<p>It is certain our barony Forth farmer felt this triple blow -most severely, and the more so from his consciousness that -he deserved it, and prepared the way for his misfortunes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> -himself. But he was doomed to feel his lapse from honour -and fair dealing yet more acutely, when on the day of his -wife’s death he was accosted by his neighbour Miles Kavanagh, -as he was droopingly wandering about his fields, shunning the -crowds collected at the wake.</p> - -<p>“Misther Costigan,” began Miles abruptly—for the Irish -peasant feels too warmly to take time to shape his gratulations -or condolences with the go-about refinements of delicacy—“I -am sorry for yer thrubble this day, an’ the more so -bekase Mrs Costigan was ever the kind and friendly naibur, -that never changed from hot to could like others. [Dennis -winced.] I also heerd ov yer loss in other respects, but that -loss will be soon made up, plaise God. In the main time, -Misther Costigan, ye might want a thrifle of ready cash for -the expinses ov the wake an’ berrin’; an’ as I’ve scraped -together a matther ov a few pounds for the rint, but which is -not called for yet, I’d be very glad to lind it to a friend, an’ -may be you’d take it, an’ ye may pay me whin you plaise. -Faix, sitch poor men as me ought never to keep money long in -the house for fear ov the vilyens ov rogues.”</p> - -<p>Dennis Costigan was unable to speak, and without accepting -the money he motioned his honest neighbour away, and -turned off abruptly. But Miles Kavanagh was not a man to -be deterred from doing a kind action.</p> - -<p>“Hut-tut! Mr Costigan,” he continued, “don’t turn away -from an ould naibur an’ friend. You think now that I bear a -grudge to ye on account ov that vilyen ye brought down to -court my Kate. I know all, ye see; an’ if I do, I freely forgive -ye. Fathers, an’ ’specially rich fathers sitch as you, are -a little partiklar, I suppose, about who their sons would marry, -an’ it’s all right. But Dennis Costigan ought to have known -us betther! He ought to have known that neither I nor my -child would seek to enther any man’s family against his will, -for he never seen any mean or disaivin’ ways in us. But all’s -forgiven an’ forgotten now; so don’t be the laist suspicious -ov us, but take the money that I freely offer, if you want it, -an’ you’ll make a poor man an’ naibur happy. Turn about, -man, an’ let us live in paice an’ good will while we’re on the -earth together.”</p> - -<p>Dennis Costigan stood, perpendicular as a poplar, with his -back to Miles Kavanagh while he was speaking, and the latter -thought, from the stiffness of the farmer’s air, that he had -nerved himself up to break sooner than bend, and that he was -determined to retain his sturdy pride to the last, and perhaps -to cut with him altogether. To Miles’s surprise, however, -when he ceased speaking, portly Dennis wheeled right about, -still perpendicular, seized the hand of his honest friend, and, -as if the mere touch of a sympathising friend communicated -a softness he was unused to, he wept aloud! yes, wept! and -they were the first bitter tears he had ever shed.</p> - -<p>“But for the sake of human nathur, which I am glad to see -so good,” said Dennis Costigan afterwards, “I’d most rather -ye’d have abused me; I could have borne it betther!”</p> - -<p>Well, months passed over, and still the “belle o’ the -barony” was making sad havoc with the hearts of the beaus. -She had already all the trades enlisted under her banner, and -it was a nice question whether she would spare one bachelor -in an entire parish, or not. Fathers and mothers still complained, -and the girls prayed that Kate Kavanagh were married, -and out of the way. Matters were daily growing worse -and worse, “confusion worse confounded,” in the country -round.</p> - -<p>As a last resource, Dennis Costigan was reminded of his -promised mission to Miles Kavanagh, to “coax him to settle -his daughter out of hand,” and for the repose of the neighbourhood -he agreed to do so. He now felt a warm friendship -for both father and daughter, and it would make him really -happy if he could be the means of assisting pretty Kate to a -husband every way worthy of her. Still he had not brought -himself to wish <em>his</em> son married to her, for he had taken it -into his head that Jem was entitled to a girl with a couple of -hundreds at least, and since his late loss he was more anxious -on that score than ever.</p> - -<p>At last, deeming himself bound in honour to delay no longer -from fulfilling his promise, Mr Costigan gravely proceeded to -Miles Kavanagh’s cottage. He found the “flower of Forth” -busily engaged in her little kitchen, scouring her deal tables -and chairs, and singing merrily as she scoured. The labour -had thrown a lovely glow over her fine face, and her smile -was really bewitching as she welcomed Mr Costigan, and -handed him a chair.</p> - -<p>“Is yer father within, Miss Kavanagh?” inquired Dennis, -as kindly as the recollection of his son’s untoward situation -would permit.</p> - -<p>“He is not, Mr Costigan,” Kate replied, “but I think he -will be here presently, so you have nothing for it but to sit -with a wild girl like me till he comes in.”</p> - -<p>Down plumped Mr Costigan, and to look at him one would -imagine he had come a-suitoring himself, so awkward and -confused did he seem while obliged to continue alone with the -beautiful “plague upon earth.” He turned his head away -from her, stuck an old pipe in his mouth for employment’s -sake, and preserved a dead silence for ten minutes. Kate, -perceiving his mood, troubled him with little chat. At length, -tired of waiting for the father, the missionary condescended -to address the daughter; and she, judging from the contortions -of his phiz, thought the effort cost him as much as a -spasm of cholera morbus.</p> - -<p>“Hem! haw! hum! I wondher very much that you don’t -think ov changin’ yer state, Miss Kavanagh. The marriage -life is the happiest life ov all, as I know (sighing deeply), an’ -I would recommend ye to thry it:” and he launched into a -long harangue in praise of the honourable state, its happiness, -comfort, and safety, compared to a single life—so full of peril -to a female; to all of which our “belle o’ the barony” listened, -and assented as demurely as could be wished. After lauding -the state, and urging the necessity of it, he next proceeded -to point out the most eligible match in his opinion, recommending -of all things “an independent man, unburthened by -fathers, mothers, sisters, or brothers; a single man in every -sense, with whom she could have everything her own way, and -no one to interfere;” and he named several whom he considered -would be unexceptionable, but to all of whom our -Kate had a quick and characteristic objection, as prompt and -ready as if she had anticipated the visit of the matrimonial -delegate, and guessed his errand. This is a specimen of the -colloquy. After mentioning several others,</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you think ov long Jem Whalen?”</p> - -<p>“Why, that one pair of tongs in one house is enough.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that won’t do! What do ye think ov John Barry? -he’s a snug, warm fella.”</p> - -<p>“Warm enough, for he’s the dickens for fightin’!”</p> - -<p>“Well, Redmond Connors, the carpinther?”</p> - -<p>“He’s a close shaver, but not to my taste.”</p> - -<p>“Pullilliew! you’ll never be plaised. Have ye anything to -say agin Burn, the mason?”</p> - -<p>“He’s too great a plastherer to be sincere.”</p> - -<p>“An’ what chance has the smith?”</p> - -<p>“He won’t forge <em>my</em> fetthers, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“An’ the tailor?”</p> - -<p>“Must stitch himself to another.”</p> - -<p>Here the dialogue broke off abruptly, for neither the missionary -nor the maiden could longer refrain from laughing; -the former, though a grave and reverend signior at all times, -was perfectly overcome by Kate’s naiveté and archness; and -though he was farther than ever from attaining his object, he -was in perfect good humour. Miles Kavanagh soon after entered -the cottage, and much was he surprised to find his -daughter and Mr Costigan tete-a-tete, and on such excellent -terms. Nor was the surprise lessened, when he saw the -farmer sit it out for two hours longer, still laughing and still -joking, as if he and Kate had ever been the best of friends and -banterers. At length Mr Costigan heavily arose from his -seat, and declaring that he would come again on the same -business (he forgot however to speak to Miles Kavanagh -about it), he took his leave.</p> - -<p>And he did go again and again; and at the third visit -Dennis Costigan and Miles Kavanagh retired to an inner -apartment. Kate neither knew nor wished to know the -subject of their confab; but she observed, that as the farmer -was retiring after the last visit, he and her father shook hands -as if clenching a bargain. “You’re mighty affectionate!” -thought Kate; “I wonder yez didn’t kiss!”</p> - -<p>As well as I can remember, it was about a fortnight from -the day of our friend Dennis Costigan’s visit to Miles -Kavanagh’s cottage, that Watty Colfer (Watty always walks -with his head down; mind, his face is an ell longer than any -other face, so grave and thoughtful is he!) had just got inside -father Tobin’s gate, and closed it after him, when he saw his -reverence himself thundering down the avenue on St Patrick, -his nag.</p> - -<p>“Yer sarvint, sur!” said Watty, very humbly, and hat in -hand, and propping himself against the shut gate, “could I -make so bould as just to spake one word to yer rivirince?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Not one word!” replied the priest hastily, “if you were -the bishop! I am in too great a hurry. Lave my way and -open the gate.”</p> - -<p>“Thin, God help me,” groaned Watty, but still keeping his -position, “that am neither priest nor bishop; I haven’t the -head-piece for sitch great min; an’ all clargy must have great -heads to keep in the larnin’. Now, is it a great weight intirely, -sur?”</p> - -<p>The priest laughed in spite of his hurry, but as he well knew -the man he had to deal with, he checked himself immediately, -and assuming as determined a look as possible under the circumstances, -he “commanded the slieveen to open the gate for -him.”</p> - -<p>Watty too knew his man. He knew every variation of the -priest’s temper, from its usual lake-like placidity, till it got up -to boiling-water heat. He thought it was beginning to -“simmer” a little, but far away yet from “bubbling and -hissing;” and gratifying his own cool impudence, he continued -the process of “heating up.”</p> - -<p>“Why, thin, indeed, what I have to say won’t keep ye long, -sur.”</p> - -<p>“Open the gate this instant!” thundered the priest.</p> - -<p>“Sartinly, sur,” quoth Watty, turning quickly round and -pretending to be very busy with the gate; “see this boult -now! Och! my curse upon the whole corporation ov smiths, -includin’ my own dacent uncle who made this same gate, an’ -so stiff an’ bad, that all I can do won’t shoot back the boult! -A clever workman is a fine thing! An’ so you won’t listen to -what I have to say, sur?”</p> - -<p>“I can’t, I tell ye. I’m going in all haste to marry a couple.”</p> - -<p>“Och! if I knew that, I’d be very sorry to detain your -rivirince! What I have to say may well keep for another -opportunity. See this curst boult now! Throth the skin is -torn off my fingers strivin’ to pull it back, an’ yer rivirince in -sitch a disperate hurry! But ye have the patience of Job -himself, beyant all doubt. God help the couple that’s expectin’ -ye, sur! And who are they, the craithurs?”</p> - -<p>The impatient churchman looked at his watch and groaned: -but as the inexorable gate would not open to let him pass -through, he gratified the newsmonger with the information -that “the couple he was about to marry were Dennis Costigan -and Catherine, Miles Kavanagh’s daughter.”</p> - -<p>“Tunder an’ turf!” exclaimed Mr Colfer, opening his eyes -as wide as he could, and raising his hands to express the extremity -of astonishment. “Is it ould Dinnis Costigan, father -to Jem, that’s goin’ to be married to handsome Kate Kavanagh, -the belle o’ the barony?—it’s quite onpossible!”</p> - -<p>“It’s not impossible,” said the priest, angrily: “and I see -nothing extraordinary in her father preferring to give her to -a sensible steady old man, than to a wild young one. But -don’t I see the gate open, and you pretending it was bolted? -Oh! ye double-dyed slieveen, quit my way this moment, or -by all that’s good I’ll let you feel the weight of this,” and he -raised his horsewhip.</p> - -<p>“Och! wid all the pleasure in life!” quoth Watty, jumping -quickly aside; and the gate flew open as if by magic, -through which Father Tobin dashed at full speed.</p> - -<p>Watty then, sound in wind and limb, shot off through the -fields—a short cut to a certain cross-road, about a mile from -the priest’s house, and less than a quarter from Miles Kavanagh’s -cottage, by which his reverence should pass. Puffing -a little, he was just in time to gravely touch his hat as the -priest cantered by. Then raising his voice he shouted after -him, “Ride aisy, ride aisy, yer rivirince; take things aisy, -can’t ye? Young James Costigan an’ Kate Kavanagh ran -off together this mornin’, an’ they’re now man an’ wife! -Arrah, take things aisy, can’t ye?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! ye limb of Satan!” ejaculated the disappointed clergyman, -as he pulled up to hear these tidings, “why didn’t -you tell me this before, and not send me off on a fool’s errand?”</p> - -<p>“How could I, sur?” responded the slieveen, meekly, -“when you war in sitch a disperate hurry?—sure ye wouldn’t -let me spake at all at all!”</p> - -<p>His reverence returned to his home, muttering denunciations -upon Watty’s devoted head; and Watty went his way, -laughing immoderately at the success of his joke. He had -given his spiritual director a ride of a mile or so without his -breakfast, which no clerical stomach, Catholic or Protestant, -could put up with, unless with a wedding breakfast in prospective. -And he told but the truth after all. Young Costigan -and handsome Kate had that morning given the knowing -old ones the slip, and got married in Wexford; and Dennis, -our portly friend Dennis, since he couldn’t have the “belle o’ -the barony” for his bride, put a good face on the matter, and -received her as his daughter-in-law. Twelve rejected suitors -were at the “hauling home;” amongst them Counsellor -Shiel of course, who favoured the company with a song -made for the occasion, the concluding lines of which we give:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Now industrious agriculthure transplants the “Flower of Forth,”</div> -<div class="verse">To a cosy situation all shelthered from the North!”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="right">M. G. R.</p> - -<h2 class="gap4">ON THE FOLLY OF SOWING BAD SEEDS -BECAUSE THEY ARE CHEAP.</h2> - -<p class="center">BY MARTIN DOYLE.</p> - -<p>A few months ago I saw in the shop window of a petty seedsman -near Dublin, an advertisement announcing the sale of -grass seeds at two shillings and eightpence per barrel of four -bushels. I had the curiosity to examine those seeds, which, -as may be supposed from their price, were a compound of the -germs of weeds, with a small proportion of grass seeds intermixed. -I have no doubt that some poor and uncalculating -petty farmers were silly enough to purchase this trash on the -penny-wise and pound-foolish principle, and I well know that -there is no point on which greater ignorance prevails than -on that of a proper selection of grass seeds, although they -should be sown with an accurate regard to the nature of the -soil, the number of years during which the land is to be left -in meadow or in pasturage, each of which conditions also requires -a different description of seeds.</p> - -<p>The successful establishment of grass seeds depends materially, -besides the clean and pulverised state of the land, -on their adaptation to the soil; and if that be in a state perfectly -fit for their reception, a much smaller quantity of seed -will be sufficient than under the opposite circumstances; and -if the land be in a foul state previously to laying it down, it -is clear that the sowing of weed seeds, with a trifling and uncertain -admixture of true grass seeds, cannot render it -cleaner.</p> - -<p>In practical result, the farmer who leaves his field to the -generosity of nature is more judicious, because in our humid -climate the soil possesses a tendency to generate the indigenous -grasses, of which some are really good, and which, from -their overpowering qualities, soon dispossess those that may -have been sown, and form a close and excellent turf. But -to sow <em>weeds</em> is inexpressibly absurd, and this the man does -who buys such a compound as that to which I have referred, -or who sows them because he happens to have them by some -means, and is unwilling to have them lost. Perhaps they -have been collected from his own little rick of hay, which he -knows to have been of the worst quality, or some stable boy -has given him, or stolen for him, the dirty and perhaps fermented -sweepings of a nasty hay loft, in which bad hay had -been stored, and he is unwilling to throw away what he has -so unluckily obtained: his <em>parkeen</em> soon bears testimony to his -imprudence: and he admits, though reluctantly, that the grass -seeds which he had sown were not of the best quality, though -they were procured from a <em>hay loft</em>, when he perceives that -they have only introduced an artificial increase of bad herbage, -which his little stock of animals would unanimously reject, if -hunger did not forbid such fastidiousness.</p> - -<p>But the deluded purchaser very frequently forgets that -though he has a great <em>bulk</em> for his money, he has a bad bargain; -he does not consider that the respectable seedsman, -though he charges much more for his seeds, gives a far better -quality in general, and does not sell <em>dirt</em> and unprolific grass -seeds in the compound which he supplies. Petty seedsmen, -no doubt, do so frequently; and how can it be otherwise, when -their stock is a motley contribution from farmers’ wives, -hostlers, and labourers, who collect every variety of good -and bad seeds from every description of meadow and soil? It -is better to pay a great deal more for the best seed, of which -a far lesser proportion will suffice. I can conceive but one -case in which a rational farmer could deliberately use such -defective seed as that which I saw in the little huckster’s -shop, namely, when he is about to surrender his farm (being -obligated to lay down his land with grass), and has all that -unamiable and inexcusable feeling which so generally prompts -men in such circumstances to act in defiance of their great -Christian principle of doing unto others as we would have -them do unto us.</p> - -<p>In this case, a selfish ill-natured tenant wishes to annoy -his landlord, and his own innocent successor, to the utmost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> -of his power; and, therefore, while adhering to the letter of -his agreement—to sow grass seeds—he breaks it in the spirit, -and very effectually, in fact, too, by substituting weeds -under the denomination of grasses.</p> - -<p>A prudent man who is not a perfect judge himself of the -matter, will first consider the quality and nature of his land -before he sows grass seeds, and then consult Lawson’s Tables, -which furnish precise information on every particular as to -the quality and quantity of seeds for all soils, and whether -for one, two, three years, or for permanent pasture, and he -will endeavour to obtain what he wants accordingly; not that -this is often an easy matter of accomplishment, for few seedsmen -have the varieties sufficiently distinct, although they are -generally polite enough to say that they have them so.</p> - -<p>But how can they be always sure of this? We know the -great difficulty, even in botanical gardens, of keeping the kinds -separate, and the rapidity with which grass seeds become commingled. -The only certain way is to raise the desired seeds -in detached portions of land, perfectly clean, and carefully -cleared of intruding plants. Can the seedsman, with the most -honourable intentions and greatest caution, be himself secure -from the effects of negligence or wilful imposition?</p> - -<p>But to return to the case of the poor man who thinks he -has a bargain when he buys four bushels of bad grass seeds -for half-a-crown. Though he sees the bad effects in the inferiority -of his herbage, and at first lays the blame on the proper -source, he actually persuades himself afterwards (when -<em>He</em>, who in his bounty doth “clothe the grass of the field” -throughout the whole earth, has covered the surface of his field -with natural herbage) that to the seeds which he had sown two -or three years previously, he is mainly to attribute what the -prodigality of Nature, or, more properly, the munificence of -God, has supplied.</p> - -<p>The man who sows bad or ill-suited grass seeds, merely -because he has obtained them, and is unwilling to <em>lose</em> the -acquisition, reminds me of an old lady who was for many years -of her life in the habit of giving annually (in the spring of the -year) to her grandchildren, a regular course of sulphur and -treacle mixed up together, whether the recipients required it -or not.</p> - -<p>On one occasion, a new servant maid, unacquainted -with this system, was sent for the usual quantity of flour of -sulphur, but by some mismanagement she brought home a -pound of flour of mustard. Her mistress sent her back to the -grocer from whom it had been bought, but from previous -jealousies or quarrels unnecessary to detail, he refused to take -it back again. The poor maid could not herself be expected -to substitute the required sulphur, and the old lady was determined -that the mustard should not be lost. She accordingly -mixed it with the treacle instead of the other substance, -and actually ladled every particle of the compound down the -throats of her grandchildren and the servant maid, who consented -to take her share as a punishment for her inattention, -until the whole mixture was consumed. The old lady was -less foolish than the farmer who sows the seeds of weeds, because -she had previously ascertained that the flour of mustard -was harmless; but the husbandman must know that those -seeds which are not genuine grass seeds are noxious to his -land, by rendering it foul, and it is therefore extravagance -and not economy on his part to use bad seeds, merely to save -waste.</p> - -<p>I am sorry to say that the same indifference prevails among -the lower classes of our farmers as to seed in general. On -this subject I shall again occupy a page of the Journal in an -early number.</p> - -<p class="gap4"><span class="smcap">A Lazy Dog.</span>—Dr Arnaud d’Antilli, one day talking with -the Duke de Laincourt upon the new philosophy of M. -Descartes, maintained that beasts were mere machines; that -they had no sort of reason to direct them; and that when -they cried or made a noise, it was only one of the wheels of -the clock or machine that made it. The Duke, who was of a -different opinion, replied, “I have now in my kitchen two -turnspits which take their turns regularly every other day to -get into the wheel; one of them not liking his employment, -hid himself on the day he should have wrought, so that his -companion was forced to mount the wheel in his stead; when -released, by crying and wagging his tail, he made a sign for -those in attendance to follow him. He immediately conducted -them to a garret, where he dislodged the idle dog and bit him -severely.”—<cite>Dublin University Magazine.</cite></p> - -<h2 class="gap4">CURIOUS COINCIDENCES.</h2> - -<p>One of the most fruitful sources of superstition, and that -which has been most productive of what are styled “well-founded -and authenticated stories of supernatural occurrences,” -is that Protean monster known in all its forms by -the general appellation of “Remarkable or Curious Coincidences.”</p> - -<p>The frequent occurrence of events precisely similar in their -details, though perfectly simple and ordinary individually, is -apt to be considered, first, as remarkable, and, if again -repeated, wonderful.</p> - -<p>In a recent number of the Penny Journal mention is made -of the curious coincidence of three men having been found -drowned at various times in the course of the same winter, -in the same river, and the same place, or nearly, each with -<em>two shirts</em> on, having given rise to the belief in that parish -that it was unlucky to wear two shirts.</p> - -<p>But if persons should allow themselves to be guided in their -actions by such observances, their lives would become perfectly -burthensome from the constant state of watchfulness in -which they would be obliged to live; for instance, the following -anecdote would show the absolute necessity they would be -under of ascertaining the names of their fellow-travellers, -lest any one rejoicing in the name of Hugh Williams should -be amongst them.</p> - -<p>The more juvenile readers of the Penny Journal must be -informed that the portion of the sea which flows between the -island of Anglesea and the coast of Wales, called the Menai -Straits, which is now spanned by the celebrated Menai suspension -bridge, was passable, previously to the erection of the -bridge, only by boats, a regular ferry-boat plying constantly -at the place called Bangor ferry. On the 6th day of December, -in the year 1664, the ferry-boat, having eighty-one passengers -on board, was upset whilst crossing the Strait, and -only one man was saved, whose name was Hugh Williams. -On the 6th day of December 1782, the boat then plying, containing -about sixty persons, was upset, and all were lost excepting -one passenger, whose name proved to be Hugh Williams. -On the 5th of August 1820, a similar fate befell twenty-five -unfortunate persons, one only of whom escaped, whose name -was Hugh Williams!</p> - -<p>We should hope that none could now be found so weak, but -certainly there have been those who, having heard this story, -would fear to trust their precious lives in a ferry-boat with -any one of the name of Hugh Williams, but a little local knowledge -would go far in removing such an absurd apprehension, -as indeed there are few of the most apparently extraordinary -events, the origin of which cannot be traced to simple natural -causes.</p> - -<p>The name of Williams prevails in the neighbourhood of -Bangor, and Hugh is a favourite Christian name throughout -all Wales. It is very probable that persons of the name of -Williams, very possibly even Hugh Williams, were lost amongst -the passengers on each of those occasions, but these were -overlooked, whilst the coincidence of the individual saved being -each time of the same name, was observed and recorded; the -circumstance being simply accounted for by the ordinary -rules of calculating odds or chances, for where the name of -Hugh Williams prevailed, there was certainly a greater chance -of one of that name being saved than one of any other, and, -as we have before remarked, no account was made of how -many Hugh Williamses perished.</p> - -<p class="right">N.</p> - -<p class="gap4"><span class="smcap">Industry.</span>—Let me say a word in behalf of this home-spun -virtue. It may seem superfluous, perhaps impertinent, to enforce -industry upon the hardest-working people in the world, -as I conceive our good countrymen to be; but I speak of it -as a part of education—as a principle to be inculcated upon -childhood. Its proper limits I shall hereafter attempt to define. -In this country it is the duty of every individual to live -an active life. No one, even though he be rich, has a right to -be idle or useless. In the hive of bees there is a privileged -class of drones; but there the government is despotic, with a -queen at its head. Ours is a republican government, which -admits of no drones, and tolerates no aristocratic indolence. -Nor is industry more a duty to society than a source of individual -happiness. There are no pleasures so sweet as those -earned by effort, no possessions so dear as those acquired by -toil. The truth is, that the main happiness of life consists in -the vigorous exercise of those faculties which God has given -us. Thus it usually happens that more enjoyment is found in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> -the acquisition of property than in its possession. How often -does the rich man, surrounded with every luxury, look back -from the pinnacle which he has attained, with fond regret, to -those days of humble but happy toil when he was struggling -up the steep ascent of fortune! Make industry, then, a part -of fireside education. Teach it to your children as a point of -duty; render it familiar to them by practice. Personal exertion -and ready activity are natural to some children, and these -hardly need any stimulus to the performance of duties requiring -bodily exertion. There are others who have an indolence, -a reluctance to move, either uniform or periodical, in their -very constitution. If neglected, these children will grow up -in the habit of omitting many duties, or of performing only -those which are agreeable. It is indispensable that such should -be trained to patient exertion, habituated to the performance -of every duty in the right time and the right way, even though -it may require self-denial and onerous toil. A person who -cannot compel himself, from a mere sense of duty, to overcome -a slothful reluctance to do what is disagreeable, is but -half educated, and carries about him a weakness that is likely -to prove fatal to his success in life. Such a person may act -vigorously by fits and starts as he may be occasionally urged -by impulse; but the good begun will often remain unfinished, -and, from subsequent negligence, will result in final disaster. -The only safe way is to found industry upon principle, and -establish it by habit. While, therefore, I would inculcate -industry, I would remark that it may be carried to excess. -Every virtue has its bordering vice. The extreme of courage -touches upon the precincts of rashness, and a step beyond the -proper limit of industry brings you into the dreary regions of -avarice.—<cite>Fireside Education, by S. G. Goodrich, an American -Author.</cite></p> - -<p class="gap4"><span class="smcap">The Sabbath.</span>—Nature always seemed to me to “keep -Sabbath” in the wilderness. I used to fancy that the wild -birds were more quiet on that day, sitting on the branches -with their heads under their wings, smoothing their plumage, -or looking quietly about them, and sometimes venturing a -faint warble, scarcely above a whisper. And I have seen a -large wolfish animal stand for hours upon a dry log, on the -bank of the river, contemplating the stream, or gazing into -the air; once or twice, perhaps, starting suddenly a few paces, -but then halting as if he had given up the idea; and his tail -all the while hanging listlessly down, as if indicating that no -enterprise could be undertaken on that day. Just like the -merchant who may be seen in the city, on a bright Sunday -morning, in clean shirt collar, and with hands thrust into his -pockets, loitering slowly down the street, or standing in ruminating -attitude at the corner, pondering carefully every step -of the morrow’s tangled path, or perhaps calculating the -amount of time lost in Sundays, by the whole world, taken -individually and collectively from Moses’s day to the present -time; but on the whole, enduring the Sabbath with Christian -resignation.</p> - -<p class="gap4"><span class="smcap">Critics.</span>—It is a little singular that the mass should attach -much importance to the small opinions of every-day critics. -Because a man happens to have the facilities of <em>publishing</em> his -views and opinions to the world, though he be the veriest -blockhead on earth, his verdict is often of more than ordinary -weight among men. Indeed, a Johnson could not influence -some men by his <em>verbal</em> opinion, to the extent that an ignoramus -can influence them through “press and types.” The -“dignity of print” has a strange effect. Although it is but -one man who speaks, and he may have one hundred opponents -who may argue successfully against him, yet they will all fail -with the public. But let either of them <em>publish</em> the same -opinion, and the ore, which was rich and weighty, becomes -refined. Common critics, moreover, are always ready to find -imperfections, for thus will the public be made acquainted with -their <em>penetration</em>. In fact, many of them seem to think that -to criticize <em>is</em> to find fault; “else (they reason) where is the -necessity of criticism?” It is said that any fool can fire a -house. So can any man criticize a book; but very few can -build the one or write the other. Many of the vinegar-critics -of the day who haunt the shores of literature, would utterly -fail in penning even the <em>preface</em> to a respectable book. It is a -recorded and well-known fact that many of our standard -works were rejected for the want of a publisher, owing to the -unfavourable opinion of stolid rule-and-figure critics; but when -they came before the people, who, judging from the impulses -of the heart, are never wrong, how soon was their verdict -reversed! The <span class="smcapuc">PEOPLE</span> are the only true tribunal. They -separate, with the hand of a refiner, the dross from the gold. -By them genius is preserved, and pretension discarded.—<cite>Knickerbocker.</cite></p> - -<p class="gap4">The boxes of the opera, splendid as they are, and splendid -as the appearance of those in them is, do not breathe a spirit -of enjoyment. They are rather like the sick wards of luxury -and idleness, where people of a certain class are condemned -to perform the quarantine of fashion for the evening.—<cite>Hazlitt.</cite></p> - -<p class="gap4"><span class="smcap">Deceivers.</span>—We are born to deceive or to be deceived. -In one of these classes we must be numbered; but our self-respect -is dependent upon our selection. The practice of deception -generally secures its own punishment; for callous -indeed must be that mind which is insensible of its ignominy! -But he who has been duped is conscious, even in the very -moment that he detects the imposition, of his proud superiority -to one who can stoop to the adoption of so foul and sorry a -course. The really good and high-minded, therefore, are -seldom provoked by the discovery of deception; though the -cunning and artful resent it, as a humiliating triumph obtained -over them in their own vocations.</p> - -<p class="gap4"><span class="smcap">Wit.</span>—Wit is the lightning of the mind, reason the sunshine, -and reflection the moonlight; for as the bright orb of -night owes its lustre to the sun, so does reflection owe its existence -to reason.</p> - -<p class="gap4"><span class="smcap">Premature Wisdom.</span>—The premature wisdom of youth -resembles the forced fruit of our hot-houses; it looks like the -natural production, but has not its flavour or raciness.</p> - -<p class="gap4"><span class="smcap">Poor.</span>—A term of reproach in England, and of pity in -most other countries.</p> - -<p class="gap4"><span class="smcap">Poets and Astronomers.</span>—Poets view nature as a book -in which they read a language unknown to common minds, as -astronomers regard the heavens, and therein discover objects -that escape the vulgar ken.</p> - -<p class="gap4"><span class="smcap">Peace of Mind.</span>—Though peace of mind does not constitute -happiness, happiness cannot exist without it; our -serenity being the result of our own exertions, while our happiness -is dependent on others: hence the reason why it is so -rare; for, on how few can we count? Our wisdom, therefore, -is best shown in cultivating all that leads to the preservation -of this negative blessing, which, while we possess it -will prevent us from ever becoming wholly wretched.</p> - -<h2 class="gap4">ANSWER TO THE ENIGMA IN No. 17.</h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">Mr Teague, the enigma you sent me, my honey,</div> -<div class="verse">Must mean, I conjecture, a round bit o’ money;</div> -<div class="verse">But what it can be, is a regular stopper,</div> -<div class="verse">Unless it’s a coinage from some kind of copper;</div> -<div class="verse">Though your Dean of St Patrick’s did not like the stuff,</div> -<div class="verse">For this very fair reason—’twas not big enough.</div> -<div class="verse">So here goes a guess—and, in truth, to be plain,</div> -<div class="verse">It’s a good honest Penny your honour will mane.</div> -<div class="verse">Ah, Geordy, full oft have they tried to disgrace,</div> -<div class="verse">With buffets and blows, thy right royal old face;</div> -<div class="verse">Let them hammer away till they’re all in a pet,</div> -<div class="verse">For real solid worth thou’rt the best of the set.</div> -<div class="verse">E’en O’Connell must own, though he don’t like the mint,</div> -<div class="verse">That thou art the cream of his flourishing rint!</div> -<div class="verse">As for gold, it flies off like the chaff or the stubble,</div> -<div class="verse">Leaving little behind but vexation and trouble.</div> -<div class="verse">And that mealy-fac’d silver, experience of old</div> -<div class="verse">Says is only too apt to take wings after gold—</div> -<div class="verse">In fact, I ne’er found, from the mohur to piastre,</div> -<div class="verse">That one kind or other went slower or faster;</div> -<div class="verse">Do just as you like, it seems a thing plann’d,</div> -<div class="verse">That one of those vagrants shall ne’er be on hand.</div> -<div class="verse">We well know what wonders a Penny can do,</div> -<div class="verse">What instruction and comfort a mite will bestow.</div> -<div class="verse">The stores of the world, its rust and its lumber,</div> -<div class="verse">Come brighten’d and polish’d in each penny number.</div> -<div class="verse">The well-spring of knowledge is open to all—</div> -<div class="verse">The Penny has spread it through cottage and hall.</div> -<div class="verse">So now, my friend Teague, let the great have the guinea.</div> -<div class="verse">You and I’ll be contint if we’ve always a <span class="smcap">Pinny</span>.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>Printed and published every Saturday by <span class="smcap">Gunn</span> and <span class="smcap">Cameron</span>, at the Office -of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane, College Green, Dublin.—Agents:—<span class="smcap">R. -Groombridge</span>, Panyer Alley, Paternoster Row, London; -<span class="smcap">Simms</span> and <span class="smcap">Dinham</span>, Exchange Street, Manchester; <span class="smcap">C. Davies</span>, North -John Street, Liverpool; <span class="smcap">J. Drake</span>, Birmingham; <span class="smcap">Slocombe</span> & <span class="smcap">Simms</span>, -Leeds; <span class="smcap">Fraser</span> and <span class="smcap">Crawford</span>, George Street, Edinburgh; and -<span class="smcap">David Robertson</span>, Trongate, Glasgow.</p> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. -32, February 6, 1841, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRISH PENNY JOURNAL, FEB 6, 1841 *** - -***** This file should be named 54748-h.htm or 54748-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/7/4/54748/ - -Produced by Brownfox and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from -images generously made available by JSTOR www.jstor.org) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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