FATHER O'LEARY.

Humorous story of Father O'Leary and a bear-Mistaken notions respecting Ireland on the Continent-Lord Ventry and his tenant; an anecdote characteristic of the Irish peasant.

I FREQUENTLY had an opportunity of meeting at my fatherin-law's, Mr. Grogan's, where he often dined, a most worthy priest, Father O'Leary, and have listened frequently with great zest to anecdotes which he used to tell with a quaint yet spirited humour quite unique. His manner, his air, his countenance, all bespoke wit, talent and a good heart. I liked his company excessively, and have often regretted I did not cultivate his acquaintance more, or recollect his witticisms better. It was singular but it was fact, that even before Father O'Leary opened his lips, a stranger would say, "That is an Irishman," and at the same time guess him to be a priest.

One anecdote in particular I remember. Coming from St. Omer, he told us, he stopped a few days to visit a brother priest in the town of Boulogne Sur Mer. Here he heard of a

great curiosity which all the people were running to see,—a curious bear that some fishermen had taken at sea out of a wreck; it had sense, and attempted to utter a sort of lingo which they called patois, but which nobody understood.

O'Leary gave his six sous to see the wonder, which was shown at the port by candle-light, and was a very odd kind of animal, no doubt The bear had been taught a hundred tricks, all to be performed at the keeper's word of command. It was late in the evening when O'Leary saw him, and the bear seemed sulky; the keeper, however, with a short spike at the end of a pole, made him move about briskly. He marked on sand what o'clock it was, with his paw, and distinguished the men and women in a very comical way; in fact, our priest was quite diverted. The beast at length grew tired; the keeper hit him. with the pole; he stirred a little, but continued quite sullen : his master coaxed him-no! he would not work! At length, the brute of a keeper gave him two or three sharp pricks with the goad, when he roared out most tremendously, and rising on his hind legs, swore at his tormentor in very good native Irish. O'Leary waited no longer, but went immediately to

the mayor, whom he informed that the blackguards of fishermen had sewed up a poor Irishman in a bear-skin, and were showing him for six sous! This civic dignitary, who had himself seen the bear, would not believe our friend at last O'Leary prevailed on him to accompany him to the room. On their arrival the bear was still upon duty; and O'Leary, stepping up to him, says, "Gand e tha hawn, Pat?" (How do you do, Pat?) Slanger a manugouth," (Pretty well, thank'ee,) says the bear. The people were surprised to hear how plainly he spoke but the mayor directly ordered him to be ripped up; and after some opposition and a good deal of difficulty, Pat stepped forth (stark naked) out of the bear-skin wherein he had been fourteen or fifteen days most cleverly stitched., The women made off; the men stood astonished; and the mayor ordered the keepers to be put in jail unless they satisfied him; but that was presently done. The bear afterwards told O'Leary that he was very well fed, and did not care much about the clothing, only they worked him too hard. The fishermen had found him at sea on a hen-coop, which had saved him from going to the bottom with a ship wherein he had a little venture of dried cod from Dungarvon, and which was bound from Waterford to Bilboa. He could not speak a word of any language but Irish, and had never been at sea before. The fishermen had brought him in, fed him well, and endeavoured to repay themselves by showing him as a curiosity.

O'Leary's mode of telling this story was quite admirable. I never heard any anecdote (and I believe this one to have been true) related with so much genuine drollery, which was enhanced by his not changing a muscle himself while every one of his hearers was in a paroxysm of laughter.

Another anecdote he used to tell with incomparable dramatic humour. By-the-by, all his stories were in some way national; and this gives me occasion to remark, that I think Ireland is at this moment nearly as little known on many parts of the continent as it seems to have been then. I have myself heard it more than once spoken of as an English town.

At Nancy, where Father O'Leary was travelling, his native country happened to be mentioned; when one of the société, a quiet French farmer of Burgundy, asked in an unassuming tone, "If Ireland stood encore?"-" Encore!" said an astonished John Bull, courier coming from Germany, "encore! to be sure she does: we have her yet, I assure you, Monsieur." Though neither very safe nor very sound," interposed an officer of the Irish brigade, who happened to be present, looking over significantly at O'Leary, and not very complacently

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at the courier. And pray, Monsieur," rejoined the John Bull to the Frenchman," why encore ?"-" Pardon, Monsieur," replied the Frenchman, "I heard it had been worn out, (fatigué) long ago by the great number of people that were living in it!"

The fact is, the Frenchman had been told, and really understood, that Ireland was a large house were the English were wont to send their idle vagabonds, and from whence they were drawn out again as they were wanted to fill the ranks of the army:-and (I speak from my own personal knowledge,) in some interior parts of the continent the existence of Ireland, as a nation, is totally unknown, or it is at best considered as about a match for Jersey, &c. On the sea-coasts they are better informed. This need not surprise us, when we have heard of a native of St. Helena formerly, (who never had been out of the island,) who seriously asked an English officer "If there were many landing-places in England?"

Some ideas of the common Irish are so strange, and uttered so unconsciously, that in the mouths of any other people they might be justly considered profane. In those of my countrymen, however, such expressions are idiomatic, and certainly spoken without the least idea of profanity.

The present Lord Ventry was considered before his father's death, the oldest heir-apparent in the Irish Peerage, to which his father had been raised in 1800, in consequence of an arrangement made with Lord Castlereagh at the time of the Union. He had for many years been bed-ridden, and had advanced to a very great age latterly without any corresponding utility: yet little apprehensions were entertained of his speedy dissolution.

A tenant on the estate, the stability of whose lease depended entirely on the son surviving the father, and who was beginning to doubt which of them might die of old age first said seriously to the heir-apparent, but without the slightest idea of any sort of impropriety either as respected God or man:

"Ah then, Master Squire Mullins, isn't it mighty strange that my poor ould landlord (Heaven preserve his noble Lordship!) shou'd lie covered up in the bed all this time past? I think, plase your honour, that it wou'd be well done, to take his Lordship (Lord bless his honour!) up to the tip-top of Crow-Patrick, and hold him up there as high as could bejust to show his Lordship a bit to the Virgin. For I'm sure, plase your honour, if God Almighty hadn't quite forgot his Lordship, he would have taken him home to himself long and many a day ago."

DEATH OF LORD ROSSMORE.

Strictures on Dr. Johnson-His biographer, Boswell-False definitions and erroneous ethics-Superstition-Supernatural appearances-Theological argument of the author in favour of his peculiar faith-Original poetry by Miss T* * *The author purchases Lady Mayo's demesne, County Wicklow-Terrific and cultivated scenery contrasted-Description of the golden belt of Ireland and the beauties of the above-mentioned county-Lord Rossmore-His characterSupernatural incident of a most extraordinary nature, vouched by living witnesses, and attendant on the sudden death of his Lordship.

It is not pleasant to differ essentially from the general opinons of the world, and nothing but a firm belief that we are right can bear us up in so doing. I feel my own fallibility poignantly, when I venture to remark upon the celebrated personage 'yclept the great moralist of England."

To criticise the labours of that giant of literature I am unequal to detract from his ethics is not my object. But it surely savours not of treason to avow that parts of his Lexicon I condemn, and much of his philosophy I dissent from.

It is fortunate for the sake of truth that Boswell became Johnson's biographer; for, as the idolaters of China devoutly attach a full proportion of bad qualities to the object of their adoration, so in like manner, he has shown no want of candour as to the Doctor's failings; and it might have been still wiser in him to have reflected on the unkind propensities of this wicked world, by which reflection his eulogiums would probably have been rendered less fulsome, and his biography yet

more correct.

The English language had been advancing gradually in its own jog-trot way from the days of Bayley to those of Johnson; it travelled over a plain smooth surface and on a gentle ascent. Every body formerly appeared to understand each other tolerably well: words were then very intelligible, and women, in general, found no difficulty in pronouncing them. But the great lexicographer soon convinced the British people (the Irish are out of the question) that they had been reading, writing, and spouting in a starved, contracted tongue, and that the magnificent dassimibomimus's of the Grecian language

were ready in polysyllables to relieve that wretched poverty under which ours had so long languished.

This noble revolution in letters has made a progress so rapid, that I found in one essay of a Magazine, two or three months ago, no fewer than twenty-four words which required me to make as many references to our great Lexicon.

Nobody can deny the miraculous labour which that work must have required: yet now, when enthusiasm has somewhat abated and no danger exists of being clapper-clawed by the Doctor himself, some ungrateful English grammarians have presumed to assert that, under the gaberdine of so great an authority, any body is lawfully entitled to coin any English word he chooses out of any foreign language he thinks proper; and that we may thus tune up our vocabulary to the key of a lingua franca, an assemblage of all tongues, sounds, and idi. oms dead or living. It has also been asserted, since his decease, that the Doctor's logic is frequently false both in premises and conclusion, his ethics erroneous, his philosophy often unintelligible, and his diction generally bombastic. However, there are so many able and idle gentlemen of law, physic, and divinity, amply educated, with pens stuck behind their ears ready for action, and who are much better skilled in the art and practice of criticism than I am, that I shall content myself with commenting on one solitary word out of forty thousand, which word not only bears strongly on my own tenets and faith, but also affects one of the most extraordinary occurrenees of my life.

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This comprehensive and important word, (which has upon occasion puzzled me more than any other in the English language,) is superstition :"-whereof one of the definitions given by the Doctor, in his Lexicon, appears to be rather inconsiderate, namely, "religion without morality." Now, I freely and fully admit that I am superstitious, yet I think it is rather severe and somewhat singular in the Doctor to admit my religion and extinguish my morality, which I always considered as marching hand in hand.

When Dr. Johnson began to learn his own morality does not appear: I suppose not until he got an honorary degree from the pedants of Oxford. Collegiate degrees in general, however, work no great reformation, I am inclined to believe, in morality; at least I am certain that when I became a Doctor of Laws I did not feel my morals in the least improved by my diploma. I wish the candid Boswell had mentioned the precise epocha of the Doctor's reformation (for he admits him to VOL. II.

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