come their compassion. The first impulse was to draw back, when the lad explained the nature of his illness; but then,

"Thundher an' turf, what's to be done?' exclaimed one of them, thrusting his spread fingers into his hair. Is the poor boy to die without help among Christyeens like us?'

"But hasn't he the sickness?' exclaimed another: 'an' in that case, Pether, what's to be done?'

"Why, you gommoch, isn't that what I'm wantin' to know? You wor ever an' always a dam' ass, Paddy, except before you were born, an' thin you wor like Major M'Curragh, worse nor nothin.' Why the sarra do you be spakin' about the sickness, the Lord protect us, whin you know I'm so

timersome of it?'

"But consider,' said another, edging off from Jemmy, however, that he's a poor scholar, an' that there's a great blessin' to thim that assists the like of him.'

666

"Ay is there that, sure enough, Dan; but you see,-blur-an-age, what's to be done? He can't die this a-way, wid nobody wid him but himself." "

"Irishmen, however, are not just that description of persons who can pursue their usual avocations, and see a fellow-creature die, without such attentions as they can afford him; not precisely so bad as that, gentle reader! Jemmy had not been two hours on his straw, when a second shed much larger than his own, was raised within a dozen yards of it. In this a fire was lit; a small pot was then procured, milk was sent in, and such other little comforts brought together, as they supposed necessary for the sick boy. Having accomplished these matters, a kind of guard was set to watch and nurse-tend him; a pitchfork was got, on the prongs of which they intended to reach him bread across the ditch; and a long-shafted shovel was borrowed, on which to furnish him drink with safety to themselves. That inextinguishable vein of humor, which in Ireland mingles even with death and calamity, was also visible here. The ragged halfstarved creatures laughed heartily at the oddity of their own inventions, and enjoyed the ingenuity with which they made shift to meet the exigencies of the occasion, without in the slightest degree having their sympathy and concern for the afflicted youth lessened.

"When their arrangements were completed, one of them (he of the scythe) made a little whey, which, in lieu of spoon, he stirred with the end of his tobacco-knife; he then extended it across the ditch upon a shovel, after having put it in a tin porringer.

"Do you want a taste o' whey, avourneen?'

"Oh, I do,' replied Jemmy; give me a drink for God's sake.'

"There it is, a bouchal, on the shovel. Musha if myself rightly knows what side you're lyin' an, or I'd put it as near your lips as I could. Come, man, be stout, don't be cast down at all at all; sure, bud-an-age, we're shovellin' the whay to you, any how.'

"I have it,' replied the boy,-oh, I have it. May God never forget this to you whoever you are.'

In this way the working-hours are spent, and now comes the cream of the jest :

"When the hour of closing the day's labor arrived, Major came down to inspect the progress which his mowers had made, and the goodness of his crop upon his meadows. No sooner was he perceived at a distance, than the scythes were instantly resumed, and the mowers pursued their employment with an appearance of zeal and honesty that could not be suspected.

"On arriving at the meadows, however, he was evidently startled at the miserable day's work they had performed.

"Why, Connor,' said he, addressing the nurse-tender, how is this? I protest you have not performed half a day's labor! This is miserabie and shameful.'

"Bedad, Major, it's true for your honor, sure enough. It's a poor day's work, the never a doubt of it. But be all the books that never was opened or shut, busier men nor we wor since mornin' couldn't be had for love or money. You see, Major, these meadows,— bad luck to them! - God pardon me for cursin' the harmless crathurs, for sure't isn't their fau't, Sir; but you see, Major, I'll insinse you into it. Now look here, your honor. Did you ever see deeper meadow, nor that same, since you wor foal, hem, since you war born, your honor? Maybe, your honor, Major, 'ud just take the scythe an' sthrive to cut a swarthe?'

"Nonsense, Connor; don't you know I cannot?'

"Thin, be Gorra, Sir, I wisht you could thry it. I'd kiss the book, we did more labor, an' worked harder this day, nor any day for the last fortnight. If it was light grass, Sir, - see here, Major, here's a light bit, — now, look at how the scythe runs through it! Thin look at here agin, jist observe this, Major, why murther alive, don't you see how slow she goes through that where the grass is heavy! Bedad, Major, you'll be made up this season wid your hay, any how. Devil carry the finer meadow ever I put scythe in nor the same meadow, God bless it!'

666

Yes, I see it, Connor. I agree with you as to its goodness. But the reason of this is, Connor, that I always direct my steward myself in laying it down for grass. Yes, you 're right, Connor; if the meadow were light, you could certainly mow comparatively a greater space in a day.'

"Be the livin' farmer, God pardon me for swearin', it's a pleasure to have dalins with a gentleman like you, that knows things as cute as if you wor a mower yourself, your honor. Bedad, I'll go bail, Sir, it wouldn't be hard to tache you that same.'

666

Why, to tell you the truth, Conner, you have hit me off pretty well. I'm beginning to get a taste for agriculture.'

"But,' said Connor, scratching his head, won't your honor allow us the price of a glass, or a pint o' porther, for our hard day's work. Bad cess to me, Sir, but this meadow 'ill play the puck wid us afore we get it finished. Atween ourselves, Sir,-if it wouldn't be takin' freedoms, — if you'd look to your own farmin' yourself. The steward, Sir, is a dacent kind of a man, but, sowl, he couldn't hould a candle to your honor in seein' to the best way of doing a thing, Sir. Won't you allow us glasses a piece, your honor? Faix, we 're kilt entirely, so we are."

"Here is half-a-crown among you, Connor; but don't get drunk. "Dhrunk! Musha, long may you reign, Sir! Be the scythe in my hand, I'd rather, och, faix you 're one o' the ould sort, Sir, the raal Irish gintleman, your honor. An' sure you're name 's far an' near for that, any how.'

"Connor's face would have done the heart of Brooke or Cruickshank good, had either of them seen it charged with humor so rich as that which beamed from it, when the Major left them to enjoy their own comments upon what had happened.

666

Oh, be the livin' farmer,' said Connor, are we alive at all afther doin' the Major! Oh, thin, the curse o' the crows upon you, Major darlin', but you are a Manus! The damn' rip o' the world, that wouldn't give the breath he breathes to the poor for God's sake, an' he'll thrown a man halfa-crown that 'll blarney him for farmin, an' him doesn't know the difference atween a Cork red an' a Yallow leg!'

"Faith he's the boy that knows how to make a Judy of himself, any way, Pether,' exclaimed another. 'The devil a hapurth asier nor to give these Quality the bag to hould, so there isn't,—an' they think themselves so cute, too!

666

"Augh!' said a third, 'couldn't a man find the soft side of them, as asy as make out the way to his own nose without bein' led to it. Devil a sin it is to do them any way. Sure he thinks we wor tooth an' nail at the meadow all day; an' me thought I'd never recover it, to see Pether here,the rise he tuck out of him! Ha, ha, ha, och, och,- murdher, oh?" "Faith,' exclaimed Connor, "t was good, you see, to help the poor scholar; only for it we couldn't get shkamin' the half crown out of him. I think we ought to give the crathur half of it, an' him so sick, - he will be wantin' it worse nor ourselves.'

666

"Oh, be Gorra, he's fairly entitled to that. I vote him fifteen pince.' "Surely!' they exclaimed unanimously,—'tundher-an'-turf, wasn't he the manes of gettin' it for us?'

"Jemmy, a bouchal,' said Connor, across the ditch to M'Evoy, 'are you sleepin'?'

"Sleepin'! Oh no,' replied Jemmy, 'I'd give the wide world for one wink of asy sleep.'

"Well, aroon, here's fifteen pince for you, that we shkam,—will I tell him how we got it?'

"No don't, replied his neighbours; 'the boy's given to devotion, an', maybe, might scruple to take it.'

"Here's fifteen pince, avourneen, on the shovel, that we're givin' you for God's sake. If you over this, won't you offer up a prayer for us? Won't you, avick?"

"I can never forget your kindness,' replied Jemmy; 'I will always pray for you, an' may God for ever bless you an' yours.'

"Poor crathur! May the heavens above have posthration on him. Upon my sowl, it's good to have his blessin' an' his prayer. Now don't fret, Jemmy; we 're lavin' you wid a lot o' neighbours here. They'll watch you time about, so that whin you want any thing, call, avourneen, an there 'Il still be some one here to answer. God bless you, an' restore you, till we come wid the milk we'll stale for you, wid the help o' God. Bad cess to me, but it 'ud be a mortal sin, so it would, to let the poor boy die without help. For, as the Catechiz says, There is but one Faith, one Church, and one Baptism!' Well, the readin' that's in that Catechiz is mighty improvin', glory be to God!'"

With this nursing, the Poor Scholar recovers; but in the meanwhile, his nurse-tenders undergo a cross examination, out of which they extricate themselves handsomely. Two gentlemen in black are riding past the hospital ditch, who thus interrogate Connor:

666

'How did you provide him with drink at such a distance from any human habitation?

"Throth, hard enough we found it, Sir, to do that same; but sure, whether or not, my Lord, we couldn't be such nagers as to let him die all out, for wint o' somethin' to moisten his throat wid.'

"I hope,' inquired the other, 'you had nothing to do in the milkstealing which has produced such an outcry in this immediate neighbourhood?

"Milk-stalin'! Oh, bedad, Sir, there never was the likes known afore

*That is, to get over, to survive.

in the counthry. The Lord forgive them that did it! Be Gorra, Sir, the wickedness o' the people's mighty improvin', if one 'ud take warnin' by it, glory be to God!"

66 6

Many of the farmers' cows have been milked at night, Connor, — perfectly drained, - even my own cows have not escaped; and we who have suffered are certainly determined, if possible, to ascertain those who have committed the theft. I, for my part, have gone even beyond my ability in relieving the wants of the poor, during this period of sickness and famine; I therefore deserved this the less.'

666

By the powdhers, your honor, if any gintleman desarves to have his cows unmilked, it's yourself. But, as I said this minute, there's no end to the wickedness o' the people, so there's not, although the Catechiz is against them, for, says it, 'There is but one Faith, one Church, an' one Baptism.' Now, Sir, isn't it quare that people, wid such words in the book afore them, won't be guided by it? I suppose they thought it only a white sin, Sir, to take the milk, the thieves o' the world.'

"Maybe, your honor,' said another, that it was only to keep the life in some poor sick crathur that wanted it more nor you or the farmers, that they did it. There's some o' the same farmers desarve worse, for they 're keepin' up the prices o' their male an' praties upon the poor, an' did so all along, that they might make money by our distitution.'

666

That is no justification for theft,' observed the graver of the two. Does any one among you suspect those who committed it in this instance? If you do, I command you, as your Bishop, to mention them.'

How, for instance,' added the other, were you able to supply this sick boy with whey during his illness?'

"O thin, gintlemen,' replied Connor, 'bit it's a mighty improvin' thing to see our own Bishop, — God spare his Lordship to us!-an' the Protestant minister o' the parish joinin' together to relieve an' give good advice to the poor! Bedad, it's settin' a fine example, so it is, to the Quality, if they'd take patthern by it.""

The length of our account of this collection of national tales, manifests the esteem in which we hold their general purpose, and our admiration of the talent and happy humor in which that excellent object is accomplished. In no portraiture of Irish character and manners have we met greater fidelity, or more trustworthy re

semblance.

[Compiled.]

ART. V.- The Works of Robert Hall, A. M. With a brief Memoir of his Life by DR. GREGORY, and Observations on his Character as a Preacher, by JOHN FOSTER. Edited by DR. OLYNTHUS GREGORY. 6 vols. 8vo. London. 1832.*

We have four reviews lying before us of the Works and Life of Robert Hall, with neither of which we think the generality of our readers would be particularly gratified. The earliest appeared in the ninety-fifth number of "The Quarterly Review." A main object of the writer is to show that Hall's later opinions and feelings were

* Republished in 3 vols. 8vo, by J. & J. Harper, New York.

inconsistent with such as he had previously expressed; and to exhibit his character as that of a very able, but, often, rash and intemperate writer, who was suffering from his position in society among the Dissenters; "the Dissenters," as the writer says, half in irony and half in simplicity, "enjoying the liberty of thinking for themselves on every occasion." "His mind," it is affirmed, "wanted consolidating; had it been subjected to the wholesome restraint of liberal, but not lax, formularies, it would have been more true to itself." What, however, are considered as his more loyal, antirevolutionary, and Orthodox publications are dwelt upon with high praise.

The next article appeared in the number of "The Christian Observer" for February. This work is in the hands of the Evangelical party in the Church. The review of Hall is the production of a narrow-minded writer, full of the prejudices of his Church and sect, but who speaks of "the works of Hall as the impress," his own word,-"of that powerful, elegant, and devout mind, which, for so many years, stood at the highest elevation of intellectual fame, and gave force to the most sacred strains of piety, clothed in the richest garb of more than classical elegance."

All parties in England, in religion and politics, at least the more extreme parties, seem to find something congenial to their taste in the writings of Hall; a strong proof, perhaps, of his talents, but at the same time, it would seem, a proof of his inconsistency. Accordingly, in the twelfth number of "Tait's Edinburgh Magazine," a radical journal, there is another article upon him, full of eulogy mixed with censure, in which he is exhibited as the free-thinker, and sturdy and ultra oppositionist; and his celebrated Sermon on "Modern Infidelity" is treated as an "aberration," "in many essential points at variance both with the previous and the later recorded opinions of the author "; though admitted to be "powerful, useful, and highly eloquent."

We close our list of articles upon Hall with one in "The Eclectic Review" for March. In this publication, which is the organ of the Orthodox Dissenters, and which, at some periods, has contained articles of great ability, Hall was at one time a writer. He is spoken of with the warm interest in his character which might be expected; and the reviews in "The Quarterly" and "Christian Observer," are animadverted upon with severity.

*

No one, however, of the articles we have mentioned is composed with more than a very moderate share of ability. No one contains any thing like a philosophical estimate of Hall, as a man or a writer. This defect we shall not attempt to supply. We may however observe, that he appears to us as one of the most eloquent of those who in modern times have excelled in an inferior sort of

Since writing the above paragraph, we have seen Hall's Life and Works in "The British Critic, No. 24." of the High-Church party. The praise of Hall is liberal, censure, as might be expected, of his earlier productions.

another long review of This work is the organ accompanied with such