EXAMPLES FOR IRELAND.-T. F. Meagher.

Other nations, with abilities far less eminent than those which you possess, having great difficulties to encounter, have obeyed with heroism the commandment from which you have swerved, maintaining that noble order of existence, through which even the poorest state becomes an instructive chapter in the great history of the world.

Shame upon you! Switzerland-without a colony, without a gun upon the seas, without a helping hand from any court in Europe-has held for centuries her footing on the Alps in spite of the avalanche; has bid her little territory sustain, in peace and plenty, the children to whom she has given birth; has trained those children up in the arts that contribute most to the security, the joy, the dignity of life; has taught them to depend upon themselves, and for their fortune to be thankful to no officious stranger; and, though a blood-red cloud is breaking over one of her brightest lakes, whatever plague it may portend, be assured of this--the cap of foreign despotism will never again gleam in the market-place of Altorff!

Shame upon you! Norway-with her scanty population, scarce a million strong-has kept her flag upon the Cattegat; has reared a race of gallant sailors to guard her frozen soil; year after year has nursed upon that soil a harvest to which the Swede can lay no claim; has saved her ancient laws; and to the spirit of her frank and hardy sons commits the freedom which she rescued from the allied swords, when they hacked her crown at Frederickstadt!

Shame upon you! Greece-"whom Goth, nor Turk, nor Time hath spared not "--has flung the crescent from the Acropolis; has crowned a King in Athens whom she calls her own; has taught you that a nation should never die, that not for an idle pageant has the blood of

heroes flowed, that not to vex a school-boy's brain, nor smoulder in a heap of learned dust, has the fire of heaven issued from the tribune's tongue!

Shame upon you! Holland-with the ocean as her foe, from the swamp in which you would have sunk your graves has bid the palace, and the warehouse costlier than the palace, rear their ponderous shapes above the waves that battle at their base; has outstripped the merchant of the Rialto; has threatened England in the Thames; has swept the channel with her broom—and, though for a day she reeled before the bayonets of Dumouriez, she sprang to her feet again and struck the tricolor from her dykes!

And you-you, who are eight millions strong—you, who boast at every meeting that this island is the finest which the sun looks down upon-you, who have no threatening sea to stem, no avalanche to dread-you, who say that you could shield along your coast a thousand sail, and be the princes of a mighty commerce— you, who by the magic of an honest hand, beneath each summer sky, might cull a plentous harvest from your soil, and with the sickle strike away the scythe of death -you, who have no vulgar history to read-you, who can trace, from field to field, the evidences of civilization older than the Conquest; the relics of a religion far more ancient than the Gospel-you, who have thus been blessed, thus been gifted, thus been prompted to what is wise and generous and great, you will make no effort; you will whine, and beg, and skulk, in sores and rags, upon this favored land; you will congregate in drowsy councils, and then, when the very earth is loosening beneath your feet, you will bid a prosperous voyage to your last grain of corn; you will be beggared by the million; you will perish by the thousand; and the finest island which the sun looks down upon, amid the jeers and hootings of the world, will blacken into a plaguespot, a wilderness, a sepulchre.

MISS MALONEY ON THE CHINESE QUESTION. MARY M. DODGE.

Och! don't be talkin'. Is it howld on ye say? An' didn't I howld on till the heart of me was clane broke entirely, and me wastin' that thin you could clutch me wid yer two hands. To think o' me toilin' like a nager, for the six year I've been in Ameriky-bad luck to the day I iver left the owld counthry! to be bate by the likes o' them! (Faix an' I'll sit down when I'm ready, so I will, Ann Ryan, an' ye'd better be listenin' than drawin' your remarks.) An' is it meself, wid five good characters from respectable places, would be herdin' wid the haythens?

The saints forgive me but I'd be buried alive sooner n put up wid it a day longer. Shure an' I was the granehorn not to be lavin' at onct when the missus kim inro me kitchen wid her perlaver about the new waiter man which was brought out from Californy. "He'll be here the night," says she, " and Kitty, it's meself looks to you to be kind and patient wid him for he's a furriner," says she, a kind o' lookin' off. "Shure an' it's little I'll hinder nor interfare wid him nor any other, mum," says I, a kind o' stiff, for I minded me how these Frinch waiters, wid their paper collars and brass rings on their fingers, isn't company for no gurril brought up dacint and honest.

Och! sorra a bit I knew what was comin' till the missus walked into me kitchen smilin', and says kind o'shcared: "Here's Fing Wing, Kitty, an' you'll have too much sinse to mind his bein' a little strange." Wid that she shoots the doore, and I, misthrusting if I was tidied up sufficient for me fine buy wid his paper collar, looks up and-howly fathers! may I niver brathe another breath, but there stud a rale haythen Chineser a-grinnin' like he'd just come off a tay-box. If you'll belave me, the crayture was that yaller it 'ud sicken you to see him:

a-givin' the missus warnin',

an' sorra a stitch was on him, but a black night-gown over his trousers, and the front of his head shaved claner nor a copper biler, and a black tail a-hangin' down from behind, wid his two feet stook into the haythenestest shoes you ever set eyes on. Och! but I was up-stairs before you could turn about, and only stopt wid her by her raisin' me wages two dollars and playdin' wid me how it was a Christian's duty to bear wid haythens, and taich 'em all in our powerthe saints save us! Well, the ways and thrials I had wid that Chineser, Ann Ryan, I couldn't be tellin'. Not a blissed thing cud I do, but he'd be lookin' on wid his eyes cocked up'ard like two poomp-handles, an' he widdout a speck or smitch o' whishkers on him, an' his finger nails full a yard long. But it's dyin' you'd be to see the missus a-larnin' him, and he grinnin', an' waggin' his pig-tail (which was pieced out long wid some black stoof, the haythen chate!) and gettin' into her ways wonderful quick, I don't deny, imitatin' that sharp, you'd be shurprised, an' ketchin' an' copyin' things the best of us will do a-hurried wid work, yet don't want comin' to the knowledge of the family-bad luck to him!

Is it ate wid him? Arrah, an' would I be sittin' wid a haythen, an' he a-atin' wid drum sticks—yes, an' atin' dogs an' cats unknownst to me, I warrant you, which it is the custom of them Chinesers, till the thought made me that sick I could die. An' didn't the crayture proffer to help me a wake ago come Toosday, an' me a foldin' down me clane clothes for ironin', an' fill his haythen mouth wid water, an' afore I could hinder, squarrit it through his teeth stret over the best linen table-cloth, and fold it up tight, as innercent now as a baby, the dirrity baste!

But the worrest of all was the copyin' he'd be doin' till ye'd be dishtracted. It's yerself knows the tinder feet that's on me since iver I've bin in this counthry Well, owin' to that, I fell into a way o' slippin' me

shoes off when I'd be settin' down to pale the praties or the likes o' that, and, do ye mind! that haythen would do the same thing after me, whiniver the missus set him to parin' apples or tomaterses. The saints in heaven couldn't have made him belave he cud kape the shoes on him when he'd be paylin' anything.

Did I lave fur that? Faix an' I didn't. Didn't he get me into throuble wid my missus, the haythen? You're aware yersel' how the boondles comin' in from the grocery often contains more'n'll go into anything dacently. So, for that matter I'd now and then take out a sup o' sugar, or flour, or tay, an' wrap it in paper and put it in me bit of a box tucked under the ironin' blankit, the how it cuddent be bodderin' any one. Well, what shud it be, but this blessid Sathurday morn, the missus was a spakin' pleasant and respectful wid me in me kitchen, when the grocer boy comes in an' stands fornenst her wid his boondles, an' she motions like to Fing Wing (which I never would call him by that name nor any other but just haythen), she motions to him, she does, for to take the boondles an' empty out the sugar, an' what not, where they belongs. If you'll belave me, Ann Ryan, what did that blatherin' Chineser do but take out a sup o' sugar, an' a handful o' tay, an' a bit o' chaise right afore the missus, wrap them into bits o' paper, an' I spacheless wid shurprise, an' he the next minute up wid the ironin' blankit and pullin' out me box wid a show o' bein' sly to put them in. Och, the Lord forgive me but I clutched it, and the missus sayin', "O Kitty!" in a way that 'ud cruddle blood. your "He's a haythen nager," says I. "I've found you out," says she. "I'll arrist him," says I. "It's you ought to be arristed," says she. You won't," says I. "I will," says sheand so it went till she give me such sass as I cuddent take from no lady-an' I give her warnin' an' left that instant, an' she a-pointin' to the doore.

From "Etchings" in Scribner's Monthly.