{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_54267/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_54267","id":"gutenberg_54267","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54267","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: History - British","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Ireland -- Periodicals"],"text":"THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.\n\n      NUMBER 17.       SATURDAY, OCTOBER 24, 1840.       VOLUME I.\n\n[Illustration: NEW BRIDGE, COUNTY OF KILDARE.]\n\nIt is a curious circumstance, that while among the most humble and\nilliterate, as well as among the high and educated classes of society in\nIreland, a certain degree of interest and respect is usually felt for\nthe ecclesiastical and military remains of past ages, those of a purely\nuseful character, as ancient bridges for example, excite no corresponding\nsentiments, and are destroyed without causing the slightest feeling of\nregret in the minds of any portion of society. Strange, however, as this\nmay appear, the fact is undeniable, as the recent destruction of Thomond\nBridge at Limerick, and the intended destruction of other ancient bridges\non that noble river and elsewhere, sufficiently testify; and in a few\nyears more there will, in all probability, scarcely remain in the country\na single example of monuments of this class. Yet it cannot be said that\nsuch memorials of the progress of civilization in past ages are without\ntheir hallowing associations, or that their moss-stained and ivy-mantled\narches are less pleasing to the lover of the picturesque than those of\nthe ruined castle, church, or abbey. Who that has ever seen the ancient\nbridge of Limerick, with its fifteen arches, exhibiting every variety\nof form, its horizontal line contrasting so admirably with the upright\nforms of the adjacent objects, and calling up in the mind recollections\nof the finest landscapes of Claude--who, we say, that has enjoyed this\npleasure of a refined taste, but will hear testimony to the truth of\nour assertion, and regret the circumstances which have given birth to\nit? Who, in like manner, that has ever seen the ancient bridge which\nforms the embellishment of our present number, but would deeply lament\nits destruction? Yet such was the fate to which it was doomed, but a\nfew years since, by a county grand jury, and from which it only escaped\nthrough the influence of the worthy proprietor of St Woolstan\u2019s, Richard\nCane, Esq., who, in a spirit equally honourable to his taste and his\nnationality, declared that sooner than permit so interesting a monument\nof antiquity to be destroyed, he would build a new bridge at his own\nexpense. Alas! that we have not amongst us a greater number of gentlemen\nof his taste, wealth, and spirit!\n\nDespite of its contradictory name, New Bridge is the oldest bridge now\nremaining on the beautiful Liffey, and, with the exception of the ancient\nBridge of Dublin, which was taken down and rebuilt some years since, is\nprobably the first bridge of stone ever erected on it. From Pembridge\u2019s\nAnnals, as published by the Father of British antiquaries, William\nCamden, we learn that this bridge was erected in the year 1308, by John\nle Decer, the Mayor of Dublin in that year, at his own expense. So that\nby a curious and not uninteresting coincidence, it owes its erection to\none worthy and patriotic citizen of Dublin, and its preservation, after a\nlapse of more than five hundred years, to another.\n\nNew Bridge is situated in the barony of North Salt, about one Irish mile\nsouth-west of the town of Leixlip. It consists of four arches, some\nof which are semicircular and others pointed; and, like most ancient\nbridges, it is high and extremely narrow. Mantled with luxuriant ivy, and\nenriched with the varied and mellow tints of so many centuries, it is\nin itself an object of great picturesque beauty; but these attractions\nare greatly enhanced by the quiet yet romantic features of the scenery\nimmediately about it--particularly the woods and the ruins of the\nvenerable Abbey of St Woolstan, of which we shall give some account in a\nfuture number.\n\n                                                                       P.\n\n\n\n\nANCIENT IRISH LITERATURE.\n\nNUMBER III.\n\n\nFor our third specimen of the literature of our ancestors we have\nselected an example of what may be called the fireside stories, in vogue\nfrom a very ancient period till the last century. These stories are for\nthe most part only personal traditions, and as they are not found in any\nvellum manuscripts which have descended to us, it might be concluded\nthat they are of very modern date. Such conclusion, however, would be\nerroneous; there is no doubt that in their groundwork at least they are\nof an antiquity of several centuries, although modified in their language\nand allusions in conformity with the changes in manners and customs of\nsucceeding times. The personages who figure in them are always either\nhistorical, or belonging to the ancient mythology of Ireland, and they\nare well worthy of preservation, for the light which they reflect on the\nhabits of thought, as well as the manners and customs of bygone times.\n\n\nBODACH AN CHOTA-LACHTNA, OR THE CLOWN WITH THE GREY COAT, A FENIAN TALE.\n\nOn a certain day a fair and a gathering were held at Bineadar, by the\nseven ordinary and seven extraordinary battalions of the Fenians of\nErinn. In the course of the day, on casting a look over the broad expanse\nof the sea, they beheld a large, smooth-sided, and proud-looking ship\nploughing the waves from the east, and approaching them under full sail.\nWhen the capacious vessel touched the shore and lowered her sails, the\nFenians of Erinn counted upon seeing a host of men disembark from her;\nand great was their surprise when one warrior, and no more, came out\nof the ship and landed on the beach. He was a hero of the largest make\nof body, the strongest of champions, and the finest of the human race;\nand in this wise was the kingly warrior equipped:--an impenetrable\nhelmet of polished steel encased his ample and beautiful head; a\ndeep-furrowed, thick-backed, sharp-edged sword hung at his left side; and\na purple bossed shield was slung over his shoulder. Such were his chief\naccoutrements; and armed in this fashion and manner did the stranger come\ninto the presence of Finn Mac Coole and the Fenians of Erinn.\n\nIt was then that Finn, the King of the Fenians, addressed the heroic\nchampion, and questioned him, saying, \u201cFrom what quarter of the globe\nhast thou come unto us, O goodly youth? or from which of the noble or\nignoble races of the universe art thou sprung? Who art thou?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am,\u201d answered the stranger, \u201cIronbones, the son of the King of\nThessaly; and so far as I have travelled on this globe, since the day\nthat I left my own land, I have laid every country, peninsula, and\nisland, under contribution to my sword and my arm: this I have done even\nto the present hour; and my desire is to obtain the crown and tribute of\nthis country in like manner: for if I obtain them not, I purpose to bring\nslaughter of men and deficiency of heroes and youthful warriors on the\nseven ordinary and seven extraordinary battalions of the Fenian host.\nSuch, O king, is the object of my visit to this country, and such is my\ndesign in landing here.\u201d\n\nHereupon uprose Con\u00e1n the Bald, and said, \u201cOf a truth, my friend, it\nseems to me that you have come upon a foolish enterprise, and that to\nthe end of your life, and the close of your days, you will not be able\nto accomplish your purpose; because from the beginning of ages until\nnow, no man ever heard of a hero or ever saw a champion coming with any\nsuch mighty design to Ireland, who did not find his match in that same\ncountry.\u201d\n\nBut Ironbones replied: \u201cI make but very little account of your speech,\nCon\u00e1n,\u201d said he: \u201cfor if all the Fenian heroes who have died within the\nlast seven years were now in the world, and were joined by those who\nare now living, I would visit all of them with the sorrow of death and\nshow all of them the shortness of life in one day; nevertheless I will\nmake your warriors a more peaceable proposal. I challenge you then, O\nwarriors, to find me a man among you who can vanquish me in running,\nin fighting, or in wrestling; if you can do this, I shall give you no\nfurther trouble, but return to my own country without loitering here any\nlonger.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd pray,\u201d inquired Finn, \u201cwhich of those three manly exercises that you\nhave named will it please you to select for the first trial of prowess?\u201d\n\nTo this Ironbones answered, \u201cIf you can find for me any one champion of\nyour number who can run faster than I can, I will give you no further\nannoyance, but depart at once to my own country.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt so happens,\u201d said Finn, \u201cthat our Man of Swiftness, Keelte Mac Ronan,\nis not here at present to try his powers of running with you; and as he\nis not, it were better, O hero, that you should sojourn here a season\nwith the Fenians, that you and they may mutually make and appreciate each\nother\u2019s acquaintance by means of conversation and amusements, as is our\nwont. In the meanwhile I will repair to Tara of the Kings in quest of\nKeelte Mac Ronan; and if I have not the good fortune to find him there, I\nshall certainly meet with him at Ceis-Corann of the Fenii, from whence I\nshall without delay bring him hither to meet you.\u201d\n\nTo this Ironbones agreed, saying that he was well satisfied with what\nFinn proposed; and thereupon Finn proceeded on his way towards Tara of\nthe Kings, in search of Keelte. Now, it fell out that as he journeyed\nalong he missed his way, so that he came to a dense, wide, and gloomy\nwood, divided in the midst by a broad and miry road or pathway. Before he\nhad advanced more than a very little distance on this road, he perceived\ncoming directly towards him an ugly, detestable looking giant, who wore\na grey frize coat, the skirts of which reached down to the calves of\nhis legs, and were bespattered with yellow mud to the depth of a hero\u2019s\nhand; so that every step he made, the lower part of that coat struck\nwith such violence against his legs as to produce a sound that could be\ndistinctly heard a full mile of ground off. Each of the two legs that\nsustained the unwieldy carcase of this horrible hideous monster was like\nthe mast of a great ship, and each of the two shoes that were under his\nshapeless, horny, long-nailed hoofs, resembled a roomy long-sided boat;\nand every time that he lifted his foot, and at every step that he walked,\nhe splashed up from each shoe a good barrelful of mire and water on the\nlower part of his body. Finn gazed in amazement at the colossal man, for\nhe had never before seen any one so big and bulky; yet he would have\npassed onward and continued his route, but the giant stopped and accosted\nhim, and Finn was under the necessity of stopping also, and exchanging a\nfew words with the giant.\n\nThe giant began in this manner:--\u201cWhat, ho! Finn Mac Coole,\u201d said he,\n\u201cwhat desire for travelling is this that has seized on you, and how far\ndo you mean to go upon this journey?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d said Finn, \u201cas to that, my trouble and anxiety are so great that I\ncannot describe them to you now, and indeed small is the use,\u201d added he,\n\u201cit would be of to me to attempt doing so; and I think it would be better\nfor you to let me go on my way without asking any more questions of me.\u201d\n\nBut the giant was not so easily put off. \u201cO Finn,\u201d said he, \u201cyou may keep\nyour secret if you like, but all the loss and the misfortune attending\nyour silence will be your own; and when you think well upon that, maybe\nyou would not boggle any longer about disclosing to me the nature of your\nerrand.\u201d\n\nSo Finn, seeing the huge size of the giant, and thinking it advisable\nnot to provoke him, began to tell him all that had taken place among the\nFenians of Erinn so short a time before. \u201cYou must know,\u201d said he, \u201cthat\nat the meridian hour of this very day the great Ironbones, the son of\nthe King of Thessaly, landed at the harbour of Bineadar, with the view\nof taking the crown and sovereignty of Ireland into his own hands; and\nif he does not obtain them with the free and good will of the Irish, he\nthreatens to distribute death and destruction impartially among the young\nand old of our heroes; howbeit he has challenged us to find a man able to\nsurpass him in running, fighting, or wrestling, and if we can find such a\nman, then he agrees to forego his pretensions, and to return to his own\ncountry without giving us further trouble; and that,\u201d said Finn, \u201cis the\nhistory that I have for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how do you intend to oppose the royal warrior?\u201d asked the giant; \u201cI\nknow him well, and I know he has the vigour in his hand and the strength\nin his arm to carry every threat he makes into effect.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, then,\u201d said Finn, in answer to this, \u201cI intend to go to Tara of\nthe Kings for Keelte Mac Ronan, and if I do not find him there, I will\ngo to look for him at Ceis-Corann of the Fenii; and it is he,\u201d said he,\n\u201cwhom I mean to bring with me for the purpose of vanquishing this hero in\nrunning.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said the giant, \u201cweak is your dependence and feeble your champion\nfor propping and preserving the monarchy of Ireland; and if Keelte\nMac Ronan be your _Tree of Defiance_, you are already a man without a\ncountry.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is I, then,\u201d said Finn, \u201cwho am sorry you should say so; and what to\ndo in this extremity I cannot tell.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will show you,\u201d replied the gigantic man: \u201cjust do you say nothing at\nall but accept of me as the opponent of this champion; and it may happen\nthat I shall be able to get you out of your difficulty.\u201d\n\n\u201cO,\u201d said Finn, \u201cfor the matter of that, it is my own notion that you\nhave enough to do if you can carry your big coat and drag your shoes with\nyou one half mile of ground in a day, without trying to rival such a hero\nas Ironbones in valour or agility.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may have what notions you like,\u201d returned the giant, \u201cbut I tell you\nthat if I am not able to give battle to this fighting hero, there never\nhas been and there is not now a man in Ireland able to cope with him. But\nnever mind, Finn Mac Coole, let not your spirits be cast down, for I will\ntake it on myself to deliver you from the danger that presses on you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is your name?\u201d demanded Finn.\n\n\u201cBodach-an-Chota-Lachtna (the Churl with the Grey Coat) is my name,\u201d the\ngiant answered.\n\n\u201cWell, then,\u201d said Finn, \u201cyou will do well to come along with me.\u201d So\nFinn turned back, and the Bodach went with him; but we have no account of\ntheir travels till they reached Bineadar. There, when the Fians beheld\nthe Bodach attired in such a fashion and trim, they were all very much\nsurprised, for they had never before seen the like of him; and they were\ngreatly overjoyed that he should make his appearance among them at such a\ncritical moment.\n\nAs for Ironbones, he came before Finn, and asked him if he had got the\nman who was to contend with him in running. Finn made answer that he\nhad, and that he was present among them; and thereupon he pointed out\nthe Bodach to him. But as soon as Ironbones saw the Bodach, he was\nseized with astonishment, and his courage was damped at the sight of\nthe gigantic proportions of the mighty man, but he pretended to be only\nvery indignant, and exclaimed, \u201cWhat! do you expect me to demean myself\nby engaging in a contest with such an ugly, greasy, hateful-looking\nBodach as that? It is myself that will do no such thing!\u201d said he; and he\nstepped back and would not go near the Bodach.\n\nWhen the Bodach saw and heard this, he burst into a loud, hoarse,\nthunderous laugh, and said, \u201cCome, Ironbones, this will not do; I am not\nthe sort of person you affect to think me; and it is you that shall have\nproof of my assertion before to-morrow evening; so now, let me know,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201cwhat is to be the length of the course you propose to run over,\nfor over the same course it is my own intention to run along with you;\nand if I do not succeed in running that distance with you, it is a fair\nconclusion that you win the race, and in like manner if I do succeed in\noutstripping you, then it stands to reason that you lose the race.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is sense and rationality in your language,\u201d replied Ironbones, for\nhe saw that he must submit, \u201cand I agree to what you say, but it is my\nwish not to have the course shorter or longer than three score miles.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the Bodach, \u201cthat will answer me too, for it is just three\nscore miles from Mount Loocra in Munster to Bineadar; and it will be a\npleasant run for the pair of us; but if you find that I am not able to\nfinish it before you, of course the victory is yours.\u201d\n\nIronbones replied that he would not contradict so evident a proposition,\nwhereupon the Bodach resumed: \u201cWhat it is proper for you to do now,\u201d said\nhe, \u201cis to come along with me southward to Mount Loocra this evening, in\norder that we may make ourselves acquainted with the ground we are to\ngo over to-morrow on our return; and we can stop for the night on the\nMount, so that we may be able to start with the break of day.\u201d To this\nalso Ironbones acceded, saying it was a judicious speech, and that he had\nnothing to object to it.\n\nUpon this the two competitors commenced their journey, and little was the\ndelay they made until they arrived at Mount Loocra in Munster. As soon as\nthey had got thither, the Bodach again addressed Ironbones, and told him\nthat he thought their best plan would be to build a hut in the adjoining\nwood, that so they might be protected from the inclemency of the night:\n\u201cfor it seems to me, O son of the King of Thessaly,\u201d said he, \u201cthat if\nwe do not, we are likely to have a hard couch and cold quarters on this\nexposed hill.\u201d\n\nTo this Ironbones made reply as thus: \u201cYou may do so, if you please, O\nBodach of the Big Coat, but as for me, I am Ironbones, and care not for\ndainty lodging; and I am mightily disinclined to give myself the trouble\nof building a house hereabouts only to sleep in it one night and never\nsee it again; howbeit, if you are desirous of employing your hands there\nis nobody to cross you; you may build, and I shall stay here until you\nhave finished.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery good,\u201d said the Bodach, \u201cand build I will; but I shall take good\ncare that a certain person who refuses to assist me shall have no share\nin my sleeping-room, should I succeed in making it as comfortable as I\nhope to do;\u201d and with this he betook himself into the wood, and began\ncutting down and shaping pieces of timber with the greatest expedition,\nnever ceasing until he had got together six pair of stakes and as many of\nrafters, which with a sufficient quantity of brushwood and green rushes\nfor thatch, he carried, bound in one load, to a convenient spot, and\nthere set them up at once in regular order; and this part of his work\nbeing finished, he again entered the wood, and carried from thence a good\nload of dry green sticks, which he kindled into a fire that reached from\nthe back of the hut to the door.\n\nWhile the fire was blazing merrily he left the hut, and again addressing\nhis companion, said to him, \u201cO son of the King of Thessaly, called by men\nIronbones, are you provided with provisions for the night, and have you\neatables and drinkables to keep you from hunger and thirst?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I have not,\u201d said Ironbones proudly; \u201cit is myself that used never\nto be without people to provide victuals for me when I wanted them,\u201d said\nhe.\n\n\u201cWell, but,\u201d said the Bodach, \u201cyou have not your people near you now, and\nso the best thing you can do is to come and hunt with me in the wood, and\nmy hand to you, we shall soon have enough of victuals for both of us.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never practised pedestrian hunting,\u201d said Ironbones; \u201cand with the\nlike of you I never hunted at all; and I don\u2019t think I shall begin now,\u201d\nsaid he, in a very dignified sort of way.\n\n\u201cThen I must try my luck by myself,\u201d said the Bodach; and off again he\nbounded into the wood, and after he had gone a little way he roused a\nherd of wild swine and pursued them into the recesses of the wood, and\nthere he succeeded in separating from the rest the biggest and fattest\nhog of the herd, which he soon ran down and carried to his hut, where he\nslaughtered it, and cut it into two halves, one of which he placed at\neach side of the fire on a self-moving holly-spit. He then darted out\nonce more, and stopped not until he reached the mansion of the Baron of\nInchiquin, which was thirty miles distant, from whence he carried off a\ntable and a chair, two barrels of wine, and all the bread fit for eating\nhe could lay his hands on, all of which he brought to Mount Loocra in one\nload. When he again entered his hut, he found his hog entirely roasted\nand in nice order for mastication; so he laid half the meat and bread on\nthe table, and sitting down, disposed of them with wonderful celerity,\ndrinking at the same time precisely one barrel of the wine, and no more,\nfor he reserved the other, as well as the rest of the solids, for his\nbreakfast in the morning. Having thus finished his supper, he shook a\nlarge bundle of green rushes over the floor, and laying himself down,\nsoon fell into a comfortable sleep, which lasted until the rising of the\nsun next morning.\n\nAs soon as the morning was come, Ironbones, who had got neither food nor\nsleep the whole night, came down from the mountain\u2019s side and awoke the\nBodach, telling him that it was time to commence their contest. The\nBodach raised his head, rubbed his eyes, and replied, \u201cI have another\nhour to sleep yet, and when I get up I have to eat half a hog and drink a\nbarrel of wine; but as you seem to be in a hurry, you have my consent to\nproceed on your way before me: and you may be sure I will follow you.\u201d So\nsaying, he laid his head down and fell again a-snoring; and upon seeing\nthis, Ironbones began the race by himself, but he moved along heavily and\ndispiritedly, for he began to have great dread and many misgivings, by\nreason of the indifference with which the Bodach appeared to regard the\nissue of the contest.\n\nWhen the Bodach had slept his fill he got up, washed his hands and face,\nand having placed his bread and meat on the table, he proceeded to devour\nthem with great expedition, and then washed them down with his barrel of\nwine; after which he collected together all the bones of the hog and put\nthem into a pocket in the skirt of his coat. Then setting out on his race\nin company with a pure and cool breeze of wind, he trotted on and on, nor\ndid he ever halt on his rapid course until he had overtaken Ironbones,\nwho with a dejected air and drooping head was wending his way before him.\nThe Bodach threw down the bare bones of the hog in his path, and told\nhim he was quite welcome to them, and that if he could find any pickings\non them he might eat them, \u201cfor,\u201d said he, \u201cyou must surely be hungry by\nthis time, and myself can wait until you finish your breakfast.\u201d\n\nBut Ironbones got into a great passion on hearing this, and he cried,\n\u201cYou ugly Bodach with the Big Coat, you greasy, lubberly, uncouth tub of\na man, I would see you hanged, so I would, before you should catch me\npicking such dirty common bones as these--hogs\u2019 bones, that have no meat\non them at all, and have moreover been gnawed by your own long, ugly,\nboarish tusks.\u201d\n\n\u201cO, very well,\u201d replied the Bodach, \u201cthen we will not have any more words\nabout them for bones; but let me recommend to you to adopt some more\nrapid mode of locomotion, if you desire to gain the crown, sovereignty,\nand tributes of the kingdom of Ireland this turn, for if you go on at\nyour present rate, it is second best that you will be after coming off,\nI\u2019m thinking.\u201d And having so spoken, off he darted as swift as a swallow,\nor a roebuck, or a blast of wind rushing down a mountain declivity on a\nMarch day, Ironbones in the meantime being about as much able to keep\npace with him as he was to scale the firmament; nor did he check his own\nspeed until he had proceeded thirty miles on the course. He then stopped\nfor a while to eat of the blackberries which grew in great abundance on\nthe way, and while he was thus employed, Ironbones came up with him and\nspoke to him. \u201cBodach,\u201d said he, \u201cten miles behind us I saw one skirt of\nyour grey coat, and ten miles farther back again I saw another skirt; and\nit is my persuasion, and I am clearly of the opinion, that you ought to\nreturn for these two skirts without more to do, and pick them up.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it the skirts of this big coat that I have on me you mean?\u201d asked the\nBodach, looking down at his legs.\n\n\u201cWhy, to be sure it is them that I mean,\u201d answered Ironbones.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the Bodach, \u201cI certainly must get my coat skirts again;\nand so I will run back for them if you consent to stop here eating\nblackberries until I return.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat nonsense you talk!\u201d cried Ironbones. \u201cI tell you I am decidedly\nresolved not to loiter on the race; and my fixed determination is not to\neat any blackberries.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen move on before me,\u201d said the Bodach, upon which Ironbones pushed\nonward, while the Bodach retraced his steps to the different spots where\nthe skirts of his coat were lying, and having found them and tacked\nthem to the body of the coat, he resumed his route and again overtook\nIronbones, whom he thus addressed: \u201cIt is needful and necessary that I\nshould acquaint you of one thing, O Ironbones, and that is, that you\nmust run at a faster rate than you have hitherto used, and keep pace\nwith me on the rest of the course, or else there is much likelihood and\nconsiderable probability that the victory will go against you, because\nI will not again have to go back either for my coat-skirts or anything\nelse;\u201d and having given his companion this warning, he set off once\nmore in his usual manner, nor did he stop until he reached the side of\na hill, within ten miles of Bineadar, where he again fell a-plucking\nblackberries, and ate an extraordinary number of them. When he could eat\nno more, his jaws being tired and his stomach stuffed, he took off his\ngreat coat, and handling his needle and thread, he sewed it into the\nform of a capacious sack, which he filled with blackberries; this he\nslung over his shoulders, and then off he scampered for Bineadar, greatly\nrefreshed, and with the speed of a young buck.\n\nIn the meantime Finn and his troops were awaiting in great doubt and\ndread the result of the race, though, without knowing who the Bodach was,\nthey had a certain degree of confidence in him; and there was a champion\nof the Fenians on the top of the Hill of Howth, who had been sent thither\nby Finn, and had been there from an early hour of the morning to see\nwhich of the competitors would make his appearance first in view. When\nthis man saw the Bodach coming over the nearest eminence, with his heavy\nburden on his back, he thought that to a certainty it was Ironbones\nwhom he beheld, and fled back quite terrified to Finn and the troops,\ntelling them Ironbones was coming up, carrying the Bodach dead over his\nshoulders. This news at first depressed Finn and the troops; but Finn by\nand bye exclaimed, \u201cI will give a suit of armour and arms to the man who\nbrings me better news than that!\u201d whereupon one of the heroes went forth,\nand he had not proceeded far when he espied the Bodach advancing towards\nthe outposts of the troops, and knowing him at a glance, he flew back to\nFinn and announced to him the glad tidings.\n\nFinn thereupon went joyfully out to meet the Bodach, who speedily came\nup and threw down his burden, crying out aloud, \u201cI have good and famous\nnews for all of you; but,\u201d added he, \u201cmy hunger is great, and my desire\nfor food pressing; and I cannot tell you what has occurred until I have\neaten a very large quantity of oatmeal and blackberries. Now, as for the\nlatter, that is, the blackberries, I have got them myself in this big\nsack, but the oatmeal I expect to be provided for me by you; and I hope\nthat you will lose no time in getting it, and laying it before me, for I\nam weak for the want of nutriment, and my corporeal powers are beginning\nto be exhausted.\u201d Upon hearing this Finn replied that his request should\nbe at once attended to, and in a little space of time, accordingly, there\nwas spread under the Bodach a cloth of great length and breadth, with a\nvast heap of oatmeal in the middle of it, into which the Bodach emptied\nout all the blackberries in his bag; and having stirred the entire mess\nabout for some time with a long pole, he commenced eating and swallowing\nwith much vigour and determination.\n\nHe had not been long occupied in this way before he descried Ironbones\ncoming towards the troops with his hand on the hilt of his sword,\nhis eyes flaming like red coals in his head, and ready to commence\nslaughtering all before him because he had been vanquished in the\ncontest. But he was not fated to put his designs into execution, for when\nthe Bodach saw what wickedness he had in his mind, he took up a handful\nof the oatmeal and blackberries, and dashing it towards Ironbones with\nan unerring aim, it struck him so violently on the face that it sent his\nhead spinning through the air half a mile from his body, which fell to\nthe ground and there remained writhing in all the agonies of its recent\nseparation, until the Bodach had concluded his meal. The Bodach then rose\nup and went in quest of the head, which after a little searching about\nhe found; and casting it from his hands with an unerring aim, he sent\nit bowling along the ground all the half mile back again, until coming\nto the body it stopped and fastened itself on as well as ever, the only\ndifference being that the face was now turned completely round to the\nback of the neck, while the back of the head was in front.\n\nThe Bodach having accomplished this feat much to his satisfaction,\nnow grasped Ironbones firmly by the middle, threw him to the ground,\ntied him hand and foot so that he could not stir, and addressed him in\nthese words: \u201cO Ironbones, justice has overtaken you: the sentence your\nown vain mind had passed on others is about to be pronounced against\nyourself; and all the liberty that I feel disposed to leave you is the\nliberty of choosing what kind of death you think it most agreeable to\ndie of. What a silly notion you did get into your noddle, surely, when\nyou fancied that you, single-handed, could make yourself master of the\ncrown, sovereignty, and tributes of Ireland, even though there had been\nnobody to thwart your arrogant designs but myself! But take comfort and\nbe consoled, for it shall never be said of the Fians of Ireland that\nthey took mortal vengeance on a single foe without any warriors to back\nhim; and if you be a person to whom life is a desirable possession, I am\nwilling to allow you to live, on condition that you will solemnly swear\nby the sun and moon that you will send the chief tributes of Thessaly\nevery year to Finn Mac Coole here in Ireland.\u201d\n\nWith many wry faces did Ironbones at length agree to take this oath; upon\nwhich the Bodach loosed his shackles and gave him liberty to stand up;\nthen having conducted him towards the sea-shore, he made him go into the\nship, to which, after turning its prow from the shore, he administered\na kick in the stern, which sent it seven miles over the waters at once.\nAnd such was the manner in which Ironbones executed his vain-glorious\nproject, and in this way it was that he was sent off from the shores of\nIreland, without victory, honour, or glory, and deprived of the power of\never again boasting himself to be the first man on the earth in battle or\ncombat.\n\nBut on the return of the Bodach to the troops, the sun and the wind\nlighted up one side of his face and his head in such a way that Finn\nand the Fians at once recognised him as Manannan Mac Lir, the Tutelary\nFairy of Cruachan, who had come to afford them his assistance in their\nexigency. They welcomed him accordingly with all the honour that was due\nto him, and feasted him sumptuously for a year and a day. And these are\nthe adventures of the Bodach an Chota-Lachtna.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BARGAIN.\n\n\n\u201cWhat have you there, husband?\u201d said Mrs Courtland to her thrifty and\ncareful spouse, as the latter paused in the open door to give some\ndirections to a couple of porters who had just set something upon the\npavement in front of the house.\n\n\u201cJust wait a moment, and I\u2019ll tell you. Here, Henry! John! bring it in\nhere,\u201d and the two porters entered with a beautiful sofa, nearly new.\n\n\u201cWhy, that _is_ a beauty, husband! How kind you are!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s second-hand, you perceive; but it\u2019s hardly soiled--no one would\nknow the difference.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s just as good as new. What did you give for it?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s the best part of it. It is a splendid bargain. It didn\u2019t cost a\ncent less than a hundred dollars. Now, what do you think I got it for?\u201d\n\u201cSixty dollars?\u201d\n\n\u201cGuess again.\u201d \u201cFifty?\u201d\n\n\u201cGuess again.\u201d \u201cForty-five?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo. Try again.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what _did_ you give for it, dear?\u201d \u201cWhy, only twenty dollars!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, now, that is a bargain.\u201d\n\n\u201cAin\u2019t it, though? It takes me to get things cheap,\u201d continued the\nprudent Mr Courtland, chuckling with delight.\n\n\u201cWhy, how in the world did it go off so low?\u201d \u201cI managed that. It ain\u2019t\nevery one that understands how to do these things.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how did you manage it, dear? I should like to know.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, you see, there were a great many other things there, and among the\nrest some dirty carpets. Before the sale I pulled over these carpets and\nthrew them upon the sofa; a good deal of dust fell from them, and made\nthe sofa look fifty per cent. worse than it really was. When the sale\ncommenced, there happened to be but few persons there, and I asked the\nauctioneer to sell the sofa first, as I wanted to go, and would bid for\nit if it were sold then. Few persons bid freely at the opening of a sale.\n\n\u2018What\u2019s bid for this splendid sofa?\u2019 he began.\n\n\u2018I\u2019ll give you fifteen dollars for it,\u2019 said I; \u2018it\u2019s not worth more than\nthat, for it\u2019s dreadfully abused.\u2019\n\n\u2018Fifteen dollars! fifteen dollars! only fifteen dollars for this\nbeautiful sofa!\u2019 he went on; and a man next to me bid seventeen dollars.\nI let the auctioneer cry the last bid for a few minutes, until I saw he\nwas likely to knock it down.\n\n\u2018Twenty dollars!\u2019 said I, \u2018and that\u2019s as much as I\u2019ll go for it.\u2019\n\nThe other bidder was deceived by this as to the real value of the\nsofa, for it did look dreadfully disfigured by the dust and dirt, and\nconsequently the sofa was knocked off to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was admirably done, indeed!\u201d said Mrs Courtland, with a bland smile\nof satisfaction at having obtained the elegant piece of furniture at so\ncheap a rate. \u201cAnd it\u2019s so near a match, too, for the sofa in our front\nparlour.\u201d\n\nThis scene occurred at the residence of a merchant in this city, who was\nbeginning to count his fifty thousands. Let us look at the other side of\nthe picture.\n\nOn the day previous to this sale, a widow lady with one daughter, a\nbeautiful and interesting girl about seventeen, were seated on a sofa\nin a neatly furnished parlour in Hudson-street. The mother held in her\nhand a small piece of paper, on which her eyes were intently fixed; but\nit could readily be perceived that she saw not the characters that were\nwritten upon it.\n\n\u201cWhat is to be done, ma?\u201d at length asked the daughter.\n\n\u201cIndeed, my child, I cannot tell. The bill is fifty dollars, and has been\ndue, you know, for several days. I haven\u2019t got five dollars, and your\nbill for teaching the Miss Leonards cannot be presented for two weeks,\nand then it will not amount to this sum.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan\u2019t we sell something more, ma?\u201d suggested the daughter.\n\n\u201cWe have sold all our plate and jewellery, and now I\u2019m sure I don\u2019t know\nwhat we can dispose of, unless it be something that we really want.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you say to selling the sofa, ma?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I don\u2019t know, Florence. It don\u2019t seem right to part with it. But\nperhaps we can do without it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will readily bring fifty dollars, I suppose.\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly. It is of the best wood and workmanship, and cost one hundred\nand forty dollars. Your father bought it a short time before he died, and\nthat is less than two years past you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should think it would bring nearly a hundred dollars,\u201d said Florence,\nwho knew nothing of auction sacrifices; \u201cand that would give us enough,\nbesides paying the quarter\u2019s rent, to keep us comfortably until some of\nmy bills come due.\u201d\n\nThat afternoon the sofa was sent, and on the next afternoon Florence went\nto the auctioneer\u2019s to receive the money for it.\n\n\u201cHave you sold that sofa yet, sir?\u201d asked the timid girl, in a low,\nhesitating voice.\n\n\u201cWhat sofa, miss?\u201d asked the clerk, looking steadily in her face with a\nbold stare.\n\n\u201cThe sofa sent by Mrs ----, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen was it to have been sold?\u201d\n\n\u201cYesterday, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, we haven\u2019t got the bill made out yet. You can call the day after\nto-morrow, and we\u2019ll settle it for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan\u2019t you settle it to-day, sir? We want the money particularly.\u201d\n\nWithout replying to the timid girl\u2019s request, the clerk commenced\nthrowing over the leaves of a large account-book, and in a few minutes\nhad taken off the bill of the sofa.\n\n\u201cHere it is--eighteen dollars and sixty cents. See if it\u2019s right, and\nthen sign this receipt.\u201d\n\n\u201cAin\u2019t you mistaken, sir? It was a beautiful sofa, and cost one hundred\nand forty dollars.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s all it brought, miss, I assure you. Furniture sells very badly\nnow.\u201d\n\nFlorence rolled up the bills that were given her, and returned home with\na heavy heart.\n\n\u201cIt only brought eighteen dollars and sixty cents, ma,\u201d she said,\nthrowing the notes into her mother\u2019s lap, and bursting into tears.\n\n\u201cHeaven only knows, then, what we shall do,\u201d said the widow, clasping her\nhands together, and looking upwards.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere are always two parties in the case of bargains--the gainer and the\nloser; and while the one is delighted with the advantage he has obtained,\nhe thinks nothing of the necessities which have forced the other party to\naccept the highest offer. But few buyers of bargains think or care about\ntaking this view of the subject.--_From the New York Mirror._\n\n\n\n\nSONNET--THE DEPARTURE OF LOVE.\n\n\n    Spirit of wordless Love, that in the lone\n      Bowers of the Poet\u2019s museful soul dost weave\n      Tissues of thought, hued like the skies of eve,\n    Ere the last glories of the sun have shone,\n    How soon--almost before our hearts have known\n    The change--above the ruins of thy throne--\n      Whose vanished beauty we would fain retrieve\n      With all Earth\u2019s thrones beside--we stand and grieve!\n    We weep not, for the world\u2019s chill breath hath bound\n      In chains of ice the fountains of our tears,\n      But ever-mourning Memory thenceforth rears\n    Her altars upon desecrated ground,\n    And always, with a low despairful sound,\n      Tolls the disastrous bell of all our years!\n\n                                                         M.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MANUFACTURE OF CLOTH.\n\n\nIn the present limited and daily declining condition of the woollen\nmanufacture in Ireland, so few individuals in the country can be\nacquainted with the mode of preparing the clothing of the sheep, and\naltering its form so as to make it suitable and fit for the clothing of\nman, that we deem a short account of the various processes through which\nit passes may be acceptable to many of our readers.\n\nWhen the sheep-shearer has taken off the fleece, he ties it up in a\npeculiar knot, which is not opened again until the wool-sorter takes it\nin hands. It is his business to open it, and having spread the fleece\nupon a table, and cast his eye over it, he separates it into the number\nof sorts required, the wool being of different degrees of fineness upon\ndifferent parts of the animal. The coarse qualities of fleeces, from\nwhich low descriptions of cloths, kerseys, blankets, and friezes are\nmade, are seldom divided into more than three sorts, the finer into\nfour or five, and the finest Saxony into seven, eight, and sometimes\nnine. With the latter we have little to do in this country, there being\nbut _one_ factory (that of Messrs Willans) where it is worked; and we\nshall therefore merely follow the progress of a piece of ordinary coarse\ncloth, there being but little difference between it and the finest in the\ngeneral detail: indeed very little at all, except in the additional care\nand expense.\n\nThe sorted wool having been carefully examined by women, and freed from\nstraws and motes, is taken to the scouring department attached to the\ndye-house, where it is immersed in a hot ley with soap, and well scoured,\nafter which it is washed in clean water and left to drain.\n\nIt is then coloured, and either allowed to drain, or the colouring matter\nis wrung out, and it is again washed in water until the water runs from\nit unsullied. The apparatus in which it undergoes this process is called\n\u201cthe washing-box:\u201d one side and the bottom being of metal perforated with\ninnumerable small holes, the water has free ingress and egress, whilst\nthe wool is securely retained. Having been thoroughly cleansed, it is\ntaken to the drying-loft, if the weather be fine, or to the stove if it\nbe unfavourable, and there perfectly dried. From thence it is carried\nto the factory, and placed in the first machine called \u201cthe willow,\u201d or\nmore generally \u201cthe devil\u201d--a machine formed of five or six cylinders\nof different sizes, armed with steel spikes three or four inches long:\nthe motion of the cylinders being contrary, the spikes pass between\neach other, tearing the wool open if it should have clotted or got into\nlumps. Cheviot and Scotch wools, and wools damaged by shipwreck, must be\n_willowed_ before they can be even scoured, in consequence of their being\nalways matted.\n\nThe willow, and all the machines which shall be subsequently mentioned\nin this paper, are driven by the water-wheel or steam-engine--in this\ncountry almost uniformly by the former. Having been thoroughly opened by\nthe willow, the wool is spread upon a floor and oiled, about a quart of\nfine olive oil being the proportion to every stone weight of wool. The\neffect of the oil is to cause the fibres of the wool to separate more\neasily upon the carding-machines, and prevent the too rapid wearing of\nthe cards.\n\nThe next machine that takes up the work is called \u201cthe teazer:\u201d it has\na greater number of cylinders than the willow, with shorter teeth,\nabout an inch in length, and hooked, and some of the cylinders have\ncoarse wire cards. Having passed twice or thrice through the teazer,\nthe wool is transferred to that part of the mill called, by way of\npre-eminence, \u201cthe machine-room,\u201d where the great scribbling machines,\nor, as they are styled, \u201cscribblers,\u201d are placed. These machines have a\ngreat number of cylinders of different sizes covered with wire cards of\nvarious degrees of fineness, so arranged that they take the wool from\none another, separating the fibres, and transferring it until it has\npassed quite over every cylinder, and is carded out at the farther end\nof the machine (sixteen or eighteen feet from where it was put in) in a\nthin flake like gauze. Having been run through two or three scribblers\nof various fineness, it is passed to the carding machine, or \u201ccarder,\u201d\nwhich resembles the \u201cscribbler,\u201d but is smaller, and instead of the wool\nfalling out at the end in a flake, it is caught by a fluted cylinder of\nwood, which, revolving in a semi-cylindrical box, divides and converts\nit into separate soft rolls, about the thickness of ordinary sash rope;\nand these are thrown out upon a sheet of canvass stretched horizontally\nupon rollers, which from its slowly moving, so as to prevent one roll\nfrom falling upon another, is called \u201cthe creeper.\u201d The rolls are taken\nto \u201cthe billy,\u201d a sort of preliminary spinning-machine, sometimes worked\nby the water-wheel, but (as yet, especially in Ireland) more generally\nby a man called a \u201cslubber,\u201d who is enabled by it to form from fifty to\none hundred threads at a time, children being employed to stick the ends\nof the rolls together, which is done by lapping a small portion of the\ntip of one on the other which lies on the \u201cbilly-sheet,\u201d and then giving\nthem a slight rub. The soft thick thread which the slubber forms is made\nup in conical rolls or \u201ccops,\u201d and is taken to the spinning-machine, \u201cthe\nmule,\u201d which has now quite superseded the spinning-jenny, which in its\nday superseded the spinning-wheel. The wheel could spin only one thread\nat a time: the jenny was first made to spin thirty, then forty, then\nfifty, sixty, seventy, and eighty threads at once, by a man\u2019s hand. By\nthe \u201cmule,\u201d worked by water, a man can now spin from five hundred to one\nthousand threads of woollen yarn, and of cotton two or three thousand, at\nonce.\n\nThe thread for the warp is taken from the mule to the \u201cwarping-mill,\u201d\nwhere it is prepared according to the number of threads for the breadth\nof the cloth, the length arranged, and being tied up in a peculiar kind\nof ball, it is called a \u201cwarp,\u201d and is taken to the sizing shop, where it\nis dipped in melted size; and having been opened, perfectly saturated,\nand wrung out gently, it is carried to the field, or stove, to be dried.\nThe weaver then fixes it in the loom, and procures the \u201cweft\u201d thread,\nwhich is spun differently from the warp, and is wound upon wooden\nbobbins; having wetted these in water, he fixes one in his shuttle, and\nthe threads of the warp being lifted alternately, and the shuttle shot\nbetween them, the beam of the loom strikes each thread home, and in due\ntime the piece is woven. A good weaver with a sound warp can weave in\na hand-loom from six to nine yards of cloth in a day, but with the new\npower-loom he can weave twenty.\n\nThe cloth when taken out of the loom is examined by the overseer, and\nhaving been passed and dried, is taken to the \u201cscouring-machine,\u201d where\nit is submitted to the action of a strong ley, with fullers\u2019-earth, &c.,\nand worked by the rollers of the machine until both the oil and size have\nbeen extracted; it is then washed clean with water, taken out, and dried.\nIt is next transferred to the tuck-mill, where it is spread out, a large\nquantity of melted soap poured upon it, and being rolled up in a peculiar\nmanner, it is placed in \u201cthe stock,\u201d where two huge hammers made of oak,\nweighing from two to three cwt. each, called \u201cstock-feet,\u201d being raised\nby a wheel and then let go, fall upon it alternately, until the soap has\nbeen forced through every part of it, and the cloth has narrowed, or,\nto speak technically, \u201cmilled in,\u201d a half yard or three quarters, and\nshortened a fourth or fifth of its length, when it is pronounced to be\n\u201cmilled.\u201d It is then again placed in the \u201cwashing-machine,\u201d washed clean,\nand transferred to the \u201cgig-mill.\u201d The \u201cgig\u201d is a machine having a large\ncylinder in which teasles, a vegetable production somewhat resembling\nthistle tops or burs, are set, and the wet cloth being dragged by a set\nof rollers against the hooked spikes of the teasles, whilst the cylinder\nin which they are set goes rapidly round in a contrary direction, a\nportion of the short fibres of the wool have one of their ends disengaged\nand exhibited upon the surface of the cloth, forming what is called the\npile or face: this process is called \u201craising.\u201d When the piece has been\nsufficiently raised, it is taken to the \u201ctenter field,\u201d and stretched\non frames called \u201ctenters,\u201d by means of hooks, to the proper length and\nbreadth, and it remains thus until thoroughly dried, when it is carried\nto the \u201cshearing loft,\u201d where immense shears or machines called \u201cknives\u201d\nare passed over the surface, cutting all the wool on the face to an\nequal length. One of the improved knives can do as much work as twenty\nhand-shearers did formerly. Having received what is technically called\na \u201ccut\u201d or two, it is returned to the gig mill to be \u201cstruck,\u201d that is,\n\u201craised,\u201d or submitted to the action of the gig in a dry state, and it\nthen goes back again to the shear loft, and receives three or four more\ncuts on the face. It is then passed to the \u201cburlers,\u201d women who pick\nout all motes that have accidentally clung to or become embodied in the\ncloth, with steel pincers having very sharp points called \u201cburling irons.\u201d\n\nIf it is to be finished by being napped, that is, to have the surface\ncovered with little knots, as petershams and women\u2019s cloaking, it is\ntaken to the \u201cnapping engines,\u201d where it is submitted to the action of a\nboard curiously covered with sand, so firmly attached as not to wear off\nfor a considerable time; this is wedged down upon the cloth, and then set\nin motion, describing small circles whilst the cloth is forcibly drawn\nfrom under it by a strong roller, and thus the whole surface is covered\nover with little knots; having been passed through the napping engine\nthree or four times, it is returned to the shear loft to get one or two\ncuts on the back, thence again to the napping engine, where it receives a\nfinal run or two, and is passed to the wareroom to be measured and made\nup.\n\nBut if it is to be finished as a cloth, instead of the napping-engine\nit is sent to the steam-brushing mill, where it is passed against a\nrevolving cylinder covered with brushes and teasles alternately, and\nworking within a case, into which a stream of steam rushes constantly;\nthence it passes to another machine nearly similar, but having brushes\nonly. Having undergone this process for several hours, it is dried, taken\nagain to the shear loft and properly cut, then carefully \u201cburled\u201d and\nbrushed, again to the \u201cknife,\u201d where it is \u201cbacked,\u201d that is, cut or\nshorn on the back, and then brushed again, preparatory to being placed in\nthe press, in which it is arranged in neat folds, with thin pasteboard\ncalled \u201cpresspaper\u201d between the folds, and hot metal plates at intervals.\nThe press is then screwed down, and after a proper lapse of time the\ncloth is taken out, the folds altered in order that every part may be\nproperly pressed, and again screwed down. It then goes to the brush-mill\nfor the last time, from whence the measurer at length gets it to make up.\n\nFine cloth sometimes undergoes another process called \u201csingeing,\u201d in\nwhich it is passed over hot cylinders; but as our object is merely to\ngive a general idea of the complicated processes of the manufacture to\nour readers, and not to make them at once masters of the business, we do\nnot think it necessary to go into very minute detail. The entire length\nof time occupied may be estimated at from one to nearly two months.\n\nThe machinery in the woollen factories of Ireland is certainly inferior\nto that of our English neighbours, and the decline of the trade renders\nimprovement difficult, if not altogether hopeless. Power-looms for the\nweaving of woollen cloth, so generally at work at the other side of the\nChannel, have been only this year introduced for the first time to this\ncountry by Mr Moore, proprietor of the Milltown factory near Dublin; and\nthat Irish mechanists are not inferior to any others, is evidenced by\nthe fact that the power-looms erected at Milltown are vastly superior to\nthose imported, and which were on the most improved construction. Whether\nthe experiment will have any effect in reviving this sinking business,\nremains to be seen; but it is much to be feared that as a great branch\nof trade it has deserted our shores altogether; certain it is, that\nthe great factory at Celbridge (within ten miles of Dublin), which was\ndismantled about five years since, employed so lately as the year 1829\nmore looms than are now (1840) at work in the whole county of Dublin,\nprobably in the entire province of Leinster, and yet the introduction of\nmachinery could be effected much more easily in Ireland than almost any\nwhere else, in consequence of the absence of a manufacturing population,\nwhose interests might be so compromised as to make them adverse to such\nchange, and water power, so much cheaper than steam, is both abundant and\nunemployed.\n\n                                                                       N.\n\n\n\n\nENIGMA, BY P. M\u2019TEAGUE, ESQ.\n\n\nWho or what am I, that, dwelling amongst the most humble, can associate\nwith the highest? I am low in the scale of rank, but at the head of my\nrace, and the most ancient of my tribe; the offspring and representative\nof want, and despised by multitudes, yet of regal descent. I have the\nlikeness of woman and man, but I am neither man nor woman. I have neither\nfather nor mother, and I am childless. I have the appearance of a\npotentate, yet I am not a potentate, but the companion of the lowly, and\ntheir most frequent visitor and guest. It is my destiny to live equally\nin palaces and farm-houses, jails and hovels. I am a traveller, though\none who is always obliged to journey blindfold, and sometimes bound in\ncords with vulgar companions, and strictly guarded.\n\nNo creature undergoes greater vicissitudes. I am the attendant of most\nthat walk, sail, and ride. I am attached to the pedestrian, yet generally\nkept in confinement; or when at times liberated, exposed to the rudest\nscoffs and sports of the vulgar, who toss me up in the air, pelt me\nwith sticks and stones, tumble me on the earth, and stamp on me; and\nif I am raised again, it is either to endure a repetition of insult, or\nadminister to the cupidity of vagabonds.\n\nThough I never push myself forward, I have a face of brass, and yet my\neyes can never look you straight in the face. I am fickle and changeable\nas the wind, yet I am a friend in adversity, and never desert those who\ndo not first discard me. I may be the first to leave you; but in the hour\nof your utmost necessity you will acknowledge with a sigh _that I have\nbeen the last to desert my post_.\n\nI am frequently trusted, though I often betray. How many petitions may\nhave been offered up to heaven for my coming, no man living can tell, and\nyet I appear every where.\n\nI have been in the earth, I have been in the sea, I have been in the\nair, I have been in the fire, and can endure unhurt, and with fortitude,\ngreater extremities of heat and cold than any mortal. All the blows in\nthe face I have ever received have never made me move a muscle. I have\nbeen crushed, but am sound and whole; and notwithstanding the contempt\nwith which I have been treated (thanks to the present feelings of the\nage), am more and more respected every day--sought after indeed with\neagerness, though seldom long retained. I am the beloved of schoolboys,\nbut as quickly discarded by them. I attend churches and chapels, fairs\nand markets; yet though a friend and supporter of the Bible and many\npious institutions, I am a heathen in religion, nor can I partake of\nany thing which I buy. Though my letters may be read by every body, I\ncan neither read nor write. I am a proud stickler indeed in the school\nof aristocracy, for I never move out of my own circle; and with my\nassociates, both male and female, am often nearly squeezed to death,\naccording to the highest forms of fashionable usage.\n\nI have given birth to hundreds of thousands, and with me fortunes\ninvariably expire. My existence may continue for a thousand years, nay,\nto the very end of time, and yet may be cut short in a moment. But if\nyou destroy me, which it is certainly in your power to do, know that\ninnumerable myriads are at my back, and always ready to replace me.\n\nThough committing no offence, I am liable to transportation without\neven a trial, but I am always well received after my return from exile.\nA master of all languages, but speaking none, I find my way in foreign\ncountries without difficulty, for, though speechless, I am eloquent\nenough in my own way. From my features and head-dress you might suppose\nthat I belonged to some Indian tribe, but I am British and Irish all\nover, and flourish best upon my own soil. I am an ever-welcome friend to\nthe forlorn, but am myself very poor. I have a mint of money at my back,\nbut am not worth three half-pence. At the moment you are reading this,\nyou will indeed be wretched if you cannot command my services.\n\nAnd now, having by the unwearied diligence, talent, and influence of\nMr Rowland Hill, been enabled to give myself up for the support and\nencouragement of the IRISH PENNY JOURNAL, I hereby particularly enjoin it\nupon all my brethren more and more to patronise that excellent work.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIRISH BRAVERY.--The following instance of Irish bravery, recorded in\nFalkner\u2019s Journal, March 18, 1760, is too remarkable to be buried in\noblivion:--\u201cOn Saturday last, arrived at Youghal the ship _Good Intent_,\nbelonging to Waterford, but last from Bilboa: she was taken the Tuesday\nbefore by a French privateer off Ushant, and had on board ten or twelve\nhands, her lading brandy and iron. The French took away the master\n(Bongar), and all the men, except five and a boy. On Friday last, four\nof them (the fifth not consenting) formed a plan to surprise the nine\nFrenchmen who were navigating the vessel to France, and succeeded\ntherein. Four of the Frenchmen were under deck, three aloft, one at the\nhelm, and the other man near him: three of the Irishmen were under deck,\none at the helm, and the fifth hiding. One Brien by surprise tripped\nup the heels of the Frenchman at the helm, seized his pistol, and\ndischarged it at the other, at the same instant making a signal for his\nthree comrades below to follow his example: they assailed the Frenchmen,\nand by getting at their broadswords soon compelled them to be quiet;\nand immediately getting above, shut the hatches. After a desperate cut\nwhich one of the Frenchmen received on the arm in defending his head,\nand another a bruise by throwing the pistol at his head after it was\ndischarged (for he missed him), those above likewise called out for\nquarter, and yielded up the quarterdeck to the intrepid Mr Brien. Not one\nof these fellows could read or write; of consequence they knew not how to\nnavigate the ship, but Brien said that as he knew his course was north\nin general, being near Ushant, he steered at a venture, and the first\nland he made was near Youghal, where he happily arrived and landed his\nprisoners, who are now in Youghal gaol.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nMIGRATION OF FISHES.\n\n\nAmongst the migrations of fishes, I must not neglect those that take\nplace in consequence of the water in the ponds or pools that they inhabit\nbeing dried up: some of these are very extraordinary, and prove that when\nthe Creator gave being to these animals, he foresaw the circumstances in\nwhich they would be placed, and mercifully provided them with means of\nescape from dangers to which they were necessarily exposed.\n\nIn very dry summers, the fishes that inhabit the above situations\nare reduced often to the last extremities, and endeavour to relieve\nthemselves by plunging, first their heads, and afterwards their whole\nbodies, in the mud to a considerable depth; and so, though many in such\nseasons perish, some are preserved till a rainy one again supplies them\nwith the element so indispensable to their life. Carp, it is known, may\nbe kept and fed a very long time in nets in a damp cellar, a faculty\nwhich fits them for retaining their vitality when they bury themselves at\nsuch a depth as to shelter them from the heat.\n\nBut others, when reduced to this extremity, desert their native pool,\nand travel in search of another that is better supplied with water.\nThis has long been known of eels, which wind, by night, through the\ngrass in search of water, when so circumstanced. Dr Hancock, in the\nZoological Journal, gives an account of a species of fish called by the\nIndians the Flat-head Hassar, and belonging to a genus of the family\nof the Siluridans, which is instructed by its Creator, when the pools\nin which they commonly reside in very dry seasons lose their water, to\ntake the resolution of marching by land in search of others in which\nthe water is not evaporated. These fish grow to about the length of a\nfoot, and travel in large droves with this view; they move by night, and\ntheir motion is said to be like that of the two-footed lizard. A strong\nserrated arm constitutes the first ray of its pectoral fin. Using this as\na kind of foot, it should seem they push themselves forwards by means of\ntheir elastic tail, moving nearly as fast as a man will leisurely walk.\nThe strong plates which envelope their body probably facilitate their\nprogress in the same manner as those under the body of serpents, which\nin some degree perform the office of feet. It is affirmed by the Indians\nthat they are furnished with an internal supply of water sufficient for\ntheir journey, which seems confirmed by the circumstance that their\nbodies when taken out of the water, even if wiped dry with a cloth,\nbecome instantly moist again. Mr Campbell, a friend of Dr Hancock\u2019s,\nresident in Essequibo, once fell in with a drove of these animals, which\nwere so numerous that the Indians filled several baskets with them.\n\nAnother migrating fish was found by thousands in the ponds and all the\nfresh waters of Carolina, by Bosc; and as these pools are subject to\nbe dry in summer, the Creator has furnished this fish, as well as one\nof the flying ones, by means of a membrane which closes its mouth,\nwith the faculty of living out of water, and of travelling by leaps to\ndiscover other pools. Bosc often amused himself with their motions when\nhe had placed them on the ground, and he found that they always direct\nthemselves towards the nearest water, which they could not possibly\nsee, and which they must have discovered by some internal index; during\ntheir migrations they furnish food to numerous birds and reptiles. They\nbelong to a genus of abdominal fishes, and are called swampines. It is\nevident from this statement that these fishes are both fitted by their\nCreator not only to exist, but also move along out of the water, and are\ndirected by the instinct implanted by Him to seek the nearest pool that\ncontains that element; thus furnishing a strong proof of what are called\ncompensating contrivances; neither of these fishes have legs, yet the one\ncan walk and the other leap without them, by other means with which the\nSupreme Intelligence has endowed it. I may here observe that the serrated\nbone, or first ray of the pectoral fin, by the assistance of which the\nflat-head appears to move, is found in other Siluridans, which leads to a\nconjecture that those may sometimes also move upon land.\n\nAnother fish found by Daldorf in Tranquebar, not only creeps upon the\nshore, but even climbs the Fan palm in pursuit of certain Crustaceans\nwhich form its food. The structure of this fish peculiarly fits it for\nthe exercise of this remarkable instinct. Its body is lubricated with\nslime, which facilitates its progress over the bark, and amongst its\nchinks; its gill-covers are armed with numerous spines, by which, used as\nhands, it appears to suspend itself; turning its tail to the left, and\nstanding as it were on the little spines of its anal fin, it endeavours\nto push itself upwards by the expansion of its body, closing at the\nsame time its gill-covers, that they may not prevent its progress; then\nexpanding them again, it reaches a higher point: thus, and by bending the\nspiny rays of its dorsal fins to the right and left, and fixing them in\nthe bark, it continues its journey upwards. The dorsal and anal fins can\nbe folded up and received into a cavity of the body.\n\nHow exactly does this structure fit it for this extraordinary instinct!\nThese fins assist it in certain parts of its progress, and when not\nemployed, can be packed up so as not to hinder its progress. The lobes of\nits gill-covers are so divided and armed as to be employed together, or\nseparately as hands, for the suspension of the animal, till, by fixing\nits dorsal and anal fins, it prepares itself to take another step: all\nshowing the Supreme Intelligence and Almighty hand that planned and\nfabricated its structure, causing so many organs, each in its own way, to\nassist in promoting a common purpose. The Fan palm in which this animal\nwas taken by Daldorf, grew near the pool inhabited by these fishes.\nHe makes no mention, however, of their object in these terrestrial\nexcursions; but Dr Virey observes that it is for the sake of small\nCrustaceans on which they feed.--_Kirby\u2019s Bridgewater Treatise._\n\n\n\n\n\u201cTHY KINGDOM COME,\u201d\n\nBY MARY ANNE BROWNE.\n\n\n    Thy kingdom come! but where shall it be?\n    In the sweet, wild groves of Araby,\n    Where the citron groves and the date-tree grow,\n    Where the fair and thornless roses blow,\n    Where the sunlight falls in radiant streams,\n    And the moon on forests of palm-trees beams?\n    Fair are its roses and clustering vine,\n    And its kingdom is bright!--but it is not Thine.\n\n    Thy kingdom come! shall it be in the land\n    Where the wrecks of the mighty and valiant stand;\n    Where the temples, once by the heathen trod,\n    Resound to the holy name of God;\n    Where the fallen pillars and sculptured stone\n    Are \u2019midst sweet wreaths of wild flowers thrown?\n    It hath a sad grace, that land so fair,\n    But thy kingdom--thy kingdom is not there!\n\n    Thy kingdom come! oh, wilt thou reign\n    Within some grand and mighty fane?\n    By the work of our hands we will raise the pile,\n    We will strew with flowers the vaulted aisle,\n    We will toss the silver censers around,\n    And a thousand voices of sweetest sound\n    Shall breathe at once; but it may not be--\n    Such a kingdom accepted is not by Thee!\n\n    Thy kingdom come! in our cottage homes\n    We will give thee our hearts, by our kindred\u2019s tombs,\n    By the rippling streams, in the ancient woods,\n    Alike in clouds and in solitudes:\n    When the sun in his glory is beaming on high,\n    When the moon and stars are lighting the sky,\n    Our souls shall be breathed in praise and prayer,\n    So Thou wilt make thy kingdom there!\n\n                                              --_From the Knickerbocker._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLOVE OF CHILDREN.--Tell me not of the trim, precisely arranged homes\nwhere there are no children--\u201cwhere,\u201d as the good German has it,\n\u201cthe fly-traps always hang straight on the wall:\u201d tell me not of the\nnever-disturbed nights and days--of the tranquil, un-anxious hearts,\nwhere children are not! I care not for these things. God sends children\nfor another purpose than merely to keep up the race--to enlarge our\nhearts, to make us unselfish, and full of kindly sympathies and\naffections; to give our souls higher aims, and to call out all our\nfaculties to extended enterprise and exertion; to bring round our\nfiresides bright faces and happy smiles, and loving, tender hearts. My\nsoul blesses the Great Father every day, that he has gladdened the earth\nwith little children.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n    Printed and Published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at\n    the Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane,\n    College Green, Dublin; and sold by all Booksellers.","title":"The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 17, October 24, 1840","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":12012}