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THE GROVES OF BLARNEY.

following lines, which I took down at the time, and which, as they differ from the usual "polished" edition, I here add for the reader's amusement and edification:

THE HERDSMAN'S EDITION OF THE 66 GROVES OF
BLARNEY."

The groves of Blarney, they were so charming,

All in the puddling of sweet silent brook;
There is daisies, and sweet carnations,

The blooming pink, and the rose so fair,
The daffydilly, beside the lily,

All flowered on the sweet rock close.

'Tis Lady Jefferys as owns this nation
She's like an Alexander, a rose so fair,
She's castles round her, where no nine pounder
Can touch or plunder her place of strength.
'Tis Oliver Cromwell that did her pummel,
And made a breach in her battlement.

There's the lake well stored with perches,
The comely eels in the virgin mud.
Besides the leeches, and the groves of beeches,
That were planted in order agin the flood.

There's the cave where no daylight enters,
But cats and badgers for ever breed;
The moss by nature, which makes it swater
Than the coach and six, and a bed of down.

THE GROVES OF BLARNEY.

There's statues gazing, this noble place in—
All gods and heathens, and nymphs so fair.
Now, to finish my brave narration—

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Bould Neptune's standing quite naked in the open air.

There's the kitchen, how many a flitch in,
The maids are stitching upon the stair.
There's the whisky, besides the biscuit,

Which would make you frisky if you were there.

'Tis there you'd see Pat Murphy's daughter
Washing praties furnint the door-

Judy Carey, and Peggy Leary,

All blood related to Lord Dunamore.

On taking a final leave of Ireland, though candour may oblige the author to aver that he did not like those portions of it which he had visited, as a military residence, and though misgovernment may have produced the scenes of misery he mentions, still he cannot help bearing witness to the sound, sterling character of the sons of Erin, as well as to the amiable qualities of her fair daughters; and whilst the name of Ireland exists, it may be confidently affirmed that it will ever be associated with Genius and Valour-with Beauty and Virtue.

At sea-Cape Spartel-Detained in the Gut by easterly winds-Account of departure from CorkEmbarkation scenes-Head quarters of the regiment embark on board the "Prince Regent" at Cove-Steaming down the river-Beauty of the banks Get under weigh-Sea-sickness-Miseries on board a troop ship-Little attention paid to the comforts of troops on board ship-Cintra hillsCape St. Vincent-Coast of Barbary.

October 14, 1837, off Cape Spartel.

HERE we have been for the last three or four days, tacking about in the vain endeavour to round Cape Spartel, and with our destination almost in sight, unable to reach it, owing to an adverse easterly wind.

I have often observed that the nearer we are to the accomplishment of our wishes, the more we feel annoyed at being unexpectedly thwarted

LEAVING QUARTERS.

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in their fulfilment. This is particularly the case in a long voyage, at the commencement of which we can most philosophically put up with calms, adverse winds, and every other annoying delay; but only bring us within sight of port, and then arrest us in our forward career, and the punishment of Tantalus is instantly inflicted, whose imaginary pangs must have been devised by one intimately conversant with the workings of the human mind. Such has for some time past been our situation, and it can easily be imagined how much it has put us all out of humour.

The bustle occasioned by a regiment leaving quarters where it has been stationed for a length of time, exceeds anything which the uninitiated can imagine; and this is greatly increased when, on the point of quitting the shores of its native land, it is about to be separated from every tie, to encounter the dangers of the ocean, and all the perils and chances incident to foreign service, even in these peaceable times. The scenes which then present themselves are interesting and painful to a high degree. Followers who have attached

themselves to the corps, during its period of home service, who have followed it about from station to station-widowed mothers bereaved of their sons-husbands of their wives and children-lovers separated in the very bud of affection-present themselves in rapid succession to the spectator, who will find it difficult to retire from the affecting scene with an unmoistened eye, or feelings of unmingled

sorrow.

Such was the state of things on the wharf at Cork, on the morning of the 26th of September, when our head quarters, composed of the colonel, his staff, and band, with the two flank, and one battalion company of the regiment, marched down from the barracks with all the

pomp and circumstance" of war, in order to embark on the steamers which were to transfer us to the "Prince Regent" troop ship, then waiting for us at the "Cove of Cork."

Fortunately for us at such periods, the duties of the officers are too arduous to admit of their wasting their time in sentimentalizing, and the moral feelings, like the physical ones in the heat of battle, are too much excited to