{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_55180/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_55180","id":"gutenberg_55180","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55180","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - British","Category: Journals","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Ireland -- Periodicals"],"text":"THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.\n\n       NUMBER 39.       SATURDAY, MARCH 27, 1841.       VOLUME I.\n\n[Illustration: THOMOND BRIDGE AND THE CASTLE OF LIMERICK.]\n\nThere is scarcely in all Ireland a scene which has so many exciting\nassociations connected with it as that which we have chosen as the\npictorial subject for the present number of our Journal. The bridge is\nindeed a new one; but it is erected on the site of that most ancient one\nwhich was the scene of so many a hard-fought battle for all that men\nhold dear; and the castle--ruined and time-worn, it is true--is the same\nfortress which served in turn the race by whom it was erected, and, as if\npartaking of the change which our soil is said to make in the feelings\nof all those who settle on it, became the last and most impregnable\nstronghold of those it was designed to subdue.\n\nBut some of the events connected with this scene--and these events, too,\nthe most important--though honourable to the manly character of all\nconcerned in them, and such as all the members of the great family of\nthe British empire may now feel a pride in--are still associated with\nremembrances which to many are of a saddening cast, and which require to\nbe softened by distance or time before they can be distinctly awakened\nwithout giving pain--like our country\u2019s music, of which even some of the\nmost exhilarating movements have strange tones of sorrow blended with\nthem, which to many temperaments are too touching if strongly accented.\nAnd we do not therefore regret that in the short notice of Limerick\nBridge and Castle which we have to present to our readers, neither our\nplan nor our space will permit us to give any sketch of their history but\nsuch as may be read by all, if not with pleasure, at least without pain.\n\nThe Castle and Bridge of Limerick owe their origin to the first\nAnglo-Norman settlers in Ireland, and were erected to secure their\npossessions and facilitate the extension of them. It is probable,\nhowever, if not certain, that the site of the castle had been previously\noccupied by a stronghold of the Ostmen or Danes who settled in Limerick\nin the ninth century, and with whom, if they were not its founders, its\nauthentic history as a city at least begins; for the earlier historical\nnotices connected with it relate only to its church or churches.\n\nThese churches, with whatever town may have been connected with them,\nwere plundered by the Danes as early as the year 812; and there is every\nreason to believe that they fortified the island in the Shannon, or\nwhat is now called the English town, with walls and towers very shortly\nafterwards, as our annalists record the predatory devastations of the\nDanes of Limerick in Connaught and Meath as early as the year 843, as\nwell as at various years subsequent. They were, however, at length\nconquered, but not removed, by the victorious arms of Brian Boru, and\nafterwards Limerick appears in history only as an Irish city, though its\ninhabitants were chiefly of Danish descent. It was here that Turlogh\nO\u2019Brien, king of Munster, received in 1064 the homage of Donlevy, king of\nUlidia; and his son and successor, Murtogh O\u2019Brien, having given Cashel,\nthe ancient metropolis of Munster, to the church, made Limerick his chief\nresidence and the capital of the province, from which time it continued\nto be the seat of the kings of Thomond or North Munster, who were hence\ncalled kings of Limerick until its final conquest by the English in the\ncommencement of the thirteenth century.\n\nBut though thus relieved from the terrors of foreign aggression, Limerick\nwas not secured from the equally sanguinary attacks of the Irish\nthemselves; and our annalists record the burning of the city by Dermod\nMac Murrogh in 1014, the very year after the death of Brian, and again\nin 1088 by Donnell Mac Loughlin, king of Aileach, or the Northern Hy\nNiall. It was besieged in 1157 by Murtogh, the son of Niall Mac Loughlin,\nat the head of the forces of the North and of Leinster, when the Danish\ninhabitants were forced to renounce the authority of Turlogh O\u2019Brien, and\nto banish him east of the Shannon; and though he was soon after restored\nto a moiety of his principality, he was obliged in 1160 to give hostages\nto Roderic O\u2019Conor, to escape his vengeance.\n\nThus weakened and harassed by the intestine divisions which so fearfully\nincreased in Ireland after the successful and splendid usurpation of the\nsupreme monarchy by their ancestor Brian Boru, it should not be wondered\nat if the kings of Limerick had made but a feeble resistance to the\nenthusiastic and disciplined bravery of the Anglo-Norman adventurers,\nor that their city should have been easily won and as easily kept by\nthese bold warriors; and yet it was not till after many towns of greater\nimportance, if not strength, had been taken by them and securely held,\nthat Limerick ceased to acknowledge its ancient lords as masters. Its\nking, Donnell O\u2019Brien, was indeed one of the first of the Irish princes,\nwho, forsaking the Irish monarch after the arrival of Strongbow, leagued\nhimself with the English in support of Mac Murrogh, whose daughter, the\nhalf sister of the Earl\u2019s wife, he had married; and as a reward for his\ndefection, the king of Limerick claimed the assistance of Strongbow in\nattacking the king of Ossory. The result of this request is so honourable\nto the character of one of the Norman chiefs, and is so graphically\nsketched by Maurice Regan, the king of Leinster\u2019s secretary, that we are\ntempted to relate it in his own words, as translated by Sir George Carew.\n\n\u201cThe Erle was no sooner come to the city (Waterford) but a messenger\nfrom O\u2019Brien, kyng of Limerick, repaired unto him from his master,\npraying hym with all his forces to march into Ossery against Donald,\nthat common enemie. The cause of friendship between the Erle and O\u2019Brien\nwas, that O\u2019Brien had married one of the daughters of Dermond, kyng of\nLeinster, and half sister to the Erle\u2019s wife. Unto the message the Erle\nmade answeare, that he would satisfie O\u2019Brien\u2019s request, and they met at\nYdough, and being joined, their forces were two thousand strong. Donald,\nfearinge the approach of his enemies, sent to the Erle to desire hym that\nhe mought have a safe guard to come unto him, and then he doubted not\nbut to gyve hym satisfaction. The request was graunted, and Maurice de\nPrindergast was sent for hym; but he, for the more securitie, obtained\nthe words of the Erle and O\u2019Brien, and the othes of all the chieftains\nof the army, that the kyng of Ossery shuld come and return in safetie;\nwhich done, he went to Donald, and within fewe hours he brought hym to\nthe campe in the presence of all the army. The Erle and O\u2019Brien chardged\nhim with divers treasons and practices which he had attempted against\nhis lord the kyng of Leinster, deceased; and O\u2019Brien, and all the\ncaptens, disallowinge of his excuses, councelled the Erle to hang him,\nand O\u2019Brien, without delay, commanded his men to harrasse and spoile\nDonald\u2019s countrie, which willingly they performed. Maurice de Prindergast\nmisliking these proceedings, and seeinge the danger the king of Ossery\nwas in, presently mounted on his horse, commaunded his companie to do\nthe like, and said, \u2018My lords, what do you mean to do?\u2019 and turning to\nthe captens, he tould them \u2018that they dishonoured themselves, and that\nthey had falsified their faitths unto hym,\u2019 and sware by the cross of his\nsword that no man there that day shoulde dare lay handes on the kyng of\nOssory; whereupon the Erle having sense of his honour, calling to mynde\nhow far it was ingaged, delivered Donald unto Maurice, commaunding him\nto see him safely conveyed unto his men. Upon the way in their retorn\nthey encountered O\u2019Brien\u2019s men, laden with the spoiles of Ossery.\nPrindergast chardged them, slaying nine or ten of those free booters;\nand having brought Donald to his men, lodged with him that night in the\nwoods, and the next morning returned to the Erle.\u201d\n\nFor the part which Donnell O\u2019Brien thus acted, he had to defend himself\nfrom the merited vengeance of the Irish monarch; and though he was for\na time able to ward it off by the assistance of Robert Fitzstephen, he\ndeemed it prudent, on the death of Mac Murrogh in 1171, to return to\nhis allegiance to Roderic, and give him hostages for his fidelity. On\nthe arrival of King Henry II. in Ireland, however, in 1172, he again\nsubmitted to the authority of the English monarch, to whom he came upon\nthe banks of the river near Cashel, swore fealty, and became tributary.\n\nBut these oaths were not long held sacred by Donnell. The return of the\nking to England was soon followed by a general outburst of the Irish\nprinces against the unjust encroachments of the adventurers, and Donnell\nO\u2019Brien, once more taking possession of Limerick, led his troops,\nwhich were strengthened by the battalions of West Connaught, into the\nstrongholds of the English in Kilkenny, who hastily retreated before\nthem into Waterford, and left the country a prey to their devastations.\nTo punish these daring aggressions of Donnell, Earl Strongbow, in the\nfollowing year, as stated in the Annals of Inisfallen, collecting a large\nbody of the English from the various parts of Ireland, marched into the\nheart of O\u2019Brien\u2019s territory, where he was met and encountered by him\nat Thurles, and defeated with a loss of four knights and seven hundred\nmen. Strongbow, returning to Waterford, found the gates closed against\nhim; the people, hearing of his defeat, having seized on the garrison in\nhis absence, and put them to the sword. After a month\u2019s sojourn on the\nlittle island, as it is called, in the mouth of the river at Waterford.\nStrongbow returned to Dublin, and summoning a council of the chiefs, it\nwas determined to carry on the war with the king of Limerick with the\ngreatest vigour. The success which they experienced might, however, have\nbeen of a different kind, if they had not been joined on this occasion\nby the king of Ossory, who had been already so grievously treated by\nO\u2019Brien, and who was naturally rejoiced at the opportunity thus afforded\nhim of wreaking his revenge upon his old enemy.\n\n\u201cWith the good likeinge,\u201d says Maurice Regan, \u201cof all the chieftains,\nReymond le Grosse, the Constable of Leinster, whoe was a man discreete\nand valiaunt, and by his parents of good livelyhood, was designed to\nbe general of the army: their randevouse for the assembling of their\ntroops was Ossory. The kyng of Ossory joined with them, and undertook to\nguide the army upon O\u2019Brien. Nevertheless, Reymond mistrusted his faith,\nwhyche the kyng of Ossory perceaving, protested his integritie with suche\nfervency, as it gave full satisfaction, that he would be faithfull unto\nhim; which Donald performid with sinceritie, in guiding the army until it\ncame to the cittie of Limericke, whyche was invironed with a foule and\ndeepe ditch with running water, not to be passed over without boats, but\nat one foord onely. At the first approach the soldiers were discouraged,\nand mutinied to return, supposing the citie, by reason of the water,\nwas impregnable. But that valiaunt knight, Meyler Fitz Henry, having\nfound the foord, wyth a loud voice cried, \u2018St David, companions, let us\ncourageouslie pass this foord.\u2019 He led the waye, and was followed but\nby four horsemen, who, when they were gotten over, were assailed by the\nenemie.\u201d\n\nThe account given by Cambrensis of this affair, as translated by Sir\nR. C. Hoare, is somewhat different in its details. He says that \u201cupon\nthis occasion, one David Walsh clapped spurs to his horse, and, plunging\nboldly into the stream, reached the opposite shore in safety, and\nexclaimed loudly \u2018that he had found a ford,\u2019 yet never a man would follow\nhim, save one Geoffrey Judas, who, on his return with David to conduct\nthe army across the river, was carried away by the impetuosity of the\ncurrent, and unfortunately drowned. Meyler, however, undismayed by this\naccident, and seeing the awkward manner in which his kinsman Reymond was\nplaced, ventured into the river, and gained the opposite bank; and whilst\nhe was engaged in defending himself against the citizens of Limerick, who\nattacked him with stones, and threatened to kill him. Reymond, who had\nhitherto been employed in the rear of his army, appeared on the river\nside, and seeing the imminent danger to which his nephew Meyler was\nexposed, exhorted his troops to try the passage of the Shannon; and such\nwas the influence of this brave leader over them, that at the risk of\ntheir lives they followed him across the river, and having put the enemy\nto flight, took quiet possession of their city.\u201d\n\nHaving left a strong garrison in Limerick under the command of his\nkinsman Milo of St David\u2019s, Reymond returned to Leinster with the\nremainder of his army. But in consequence of unfavourable representations\nrespecting his conduct made to the king, he was on the point of returning\nto England, when intelligence reached Strongbow that Donnell O\u2019Brien\nwas again in arms, and investing Limerick with a powerful army; and\nthat, as the garrison had nearly consumed their whole winter stock\nof provisions, immediate succour was absolutely necessary. Strongbow\nresolved accordingly to fly to their relief without loss of time; but the\nwhole army refused to march to Limerick under any leader but Reymond,\nwho was consequently persuaded to postpone his departure, and to take\ncommand of the troops. He set out, accordingly, for Munster, at the\nhead of 80 knights, 200 cavalry, and 300 archers, to which were joined\na considerable body of Irish, as they passed through Ossory and Hy\nKinselagh, under the command of their respective princes. Donald O\u2019Brien\nwas not inactive, but advanced to meet him to the pass at Cashel, which\nwas not only strong by nature, but rendered more difficult of access\nby trees and hedges thrown across it. Meyler\u2019s usual success, however,\nattended him. Whilst Donald was animating his troops to battle, the\nimpatient Meyler burst forth like a whirlwind, destroyed the hedges,\nopened a passage by his sword, and putting the enemies to flight, again\ntook possession of the city.\n\nShortly afterwards, a parley was held with Reymond by the king of\nLimerick and Roderic O\u2019Conor, in which the Irish princes once more swore\nallegiance to King Henry and his heirs, and delivered up hostages as a\nguarantee of their fidelity.\n\nThe death of Earl Strongbow, however, which followed soon after these\nevents, once more restored Limerick to its native prince, never again\nto be wrested from him but by death. In consequence of the necessary\ndeparture of Reymond from Ireland, it was deemed expedient, as well by\nhimself as by his friends, to relinquish the possession of a city so\nsurrounded by enemies, and which it required so large a force to defend,\nand particularly as no person could be found willing to take the command\nof its garrison after his departure. Making a virtue of necessity,\ntherefore, Reymond unwillingly conferred the command on Donnell himself,\nas a liege servant of the king, who, in accepting of it, renewed his\nformer promises of fidelity and service by fresh oaths of allegiance. But\noaths were very lightly observed by all parties in those troubled times;\nand Reymond and his followers had scarcely passed the farther end of the\nbridge, than the citizens, at the instigation of Donnell, who declared\nthat Limerick should no longer be a nest for foreigners, broke it down,\nand set fire to the city in four different quarters.\n\nYet it was not resigned to Donnell without another effort. In 1179, a\ngrant of the kingdom of Limerick, then wholly in the possession of the\nIrish, having been made to Herbert Fitz-Herbert, who resigned it to\nPhilip de Braosa, or Bruce, the English, with their Irish allies, led by\nMiles Cogan and Robert Fitzstephen, invested the city, with a view to\nestablish Bruce in his principality; but they were no sooner perceived\nfrom the ramparts of the town than the garrison gave a striking proof of\ntheir inveterate hostility by setting it on fire; and though Cogan and\nFitzstephen still offered to lead on the attack, Bruce and his followers\nrefused to risk their lives in a contest whose first beginnings gave so\nbad an omen of success.\n\nAfter a series of conflicts with the English in different parts of\nMunster, in which he was usually the victor, Donnell O\u2019Brien died a\nnatural death in 1194, and with him the line of Irish kings of Limerick\nmay be said to have terminated. In the following year we find the town in\nthe possession of the English, and though it was again taken from them\nin 1198, it was recovered shortly afterwards by the renowned William de\nBurgo, who formed a settlement, which from that period defied all the\npower of the Irish.\n\nThis result was in a great measure owing to the natural strength of\nposition of the city itself; but it was not till years afterwards that\nits strength was rendered such as it might be supposed was impregnable,\nby the erection of the proud fortress, of the ruins of which our view\nwill give a tolerable idea. This castle, and the bridge, which has been\nrecently rebuilt, were erected by King John in 1210; and though the\nformer has since that period been the scene of many a national conflict,\nits ruins still display a proud magnificence, and are not an unworthy\nfeature of the scenery on the banks of that mighty river which has so\noften witnessed its trials and contributed to its defence.\n\n                                                                       P.\n\n\n\n\nEDITORIAL SQUABBLES.\n\n\nThere are not many things we like better than a row, a paper war between\na couple of newspaper editors; there is something so delectable in the\nsincere cordiality with which they abuse each other--so amusing in the\nair of surpassing wisdom and knowledge with which they contradict, and\nin the easy confident superiority with which they demolish each other\u2019s\nassertions and positions. The most pleasant feature perhaps in the whole,\nhowever--and it is one that pervades all the manifestoes of their High\nMightinesses--is the obvious conviction of each that he is demolishing,\nannihilating his antagonist; while you, the cool, dispassionate, and\nunconcerned reader, feel perfectly satisfied (and here lies the fun\nof the thing) that this said antagonist, so far from being demolished\nor annihilated, will become only more rigorous and rampant for the\ncastigation inflicted on him.\n\nAnother amusing enough feature of editorial controversies is the\ninfallibility of these worthy gentlemen. An editor is never wrong; it is\ninvariably his \u201ccontemporary,\u201d who has misunderstood or misrepresented\nhim, either through ignorance or wilfulness. He did not say that--what\nhe did say was this; and if his contemporary had read his article with\nordinary attention, he would have found it so.\n\nThe editorial war being carried on in different styles according to\ncircumstances and the tempers of the belligerents, the hostile articles\nassume various characters, amongst which are what may be called the\nDemolisher or Smasher, the Contradictor (calm and confident), the Abuser,\nand the Rejoinder and Settler (with cool and easy accompaniments).\nOf these various styles we happen to have at this moment some pretty\ntolerable specimens before us, two or three of which we shall select for\nthe edification of our readers. The first is from \u201cThe Meridian Sun,\u201d and\nis of the description which we would call\n\n\nTHE DEMOLISHER.\n\nOur contemporary \u201cThe Northern Luminary,\u201d as that concentration of\ndullness and opacity has the effrontery to call itself, is, we see, at\nhis old tricks again. In the present case he is amusing himself with\nnibbling and cavilling at our account of the great public political\ndinner given by the inhabitants of our good town to our independent\nmember, Josiah Priggins of Parsley-green, Esq. Our veracious contemporary\naccuses us of having omitted all notice of the hisses with which,\n_he_ says, some portions of Mr Priggins\u2019s speech were received. He\nfurther charges us with passing over in silence certain \u201cdisgraceful\ndisturbances\u201d by which, _he_ asserts, the evening was marked, and\nconcludes by stigmatizing the meeting as one of the lowest in character,\nand most unruly in conduct, that ever brought odium on a respectable\ncommunity.\n\nNow, can our readers guess the secret of all this spleen on the part\nof \u201cThe Northern Luminary,\u201d of which, by the way, a certain prominent\nfeature of that gentleman\u2019s face is no bad type? We will tell them: he\nwas not invited to the dinner! And, more, let us tell _him_, had he\npresented himself, he would not have been admitted!\n\nHere, then, is the whole secret of the affair, and having mentioned\nit, we have explained all, and need not say that the \u201chisses\u201d and\n\u201cdisgraceful disturbances\u201d are gratuitous inventions of the enemy--in\nother words, downright fabrications.\n\nWe had the honour of bring at the dinner in question, and sat the whole\nevening at Mr Priggins\u2019s left hand, and, thus situated, if there had\nbeen hissing, we certainly must have heard it. But there was none. Not a\nsingle hiss; and for the truth of this assertion we unhesitatingly pledge\nour word of honour. So far from any part or parts of Mr Priggins\u2019s speech\nbeing hissed, every sentiment, almost every word that gentleman uttered,\nwas hailed with unanimous and unbounded applause. In fact, we never heard\na speech that gave such general satisfaction. As to the \u201cdisgraceful\ndisturbances,\u201d these we leave to the party of which the Northern\nLuminary is the avowed supporter.\n\nHas he forgotten the scene that occurred at the last public dinner of his\nfriends at the Hog and Pigs Tavern? He may, but we have not.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis statement, of course, rouses the utmost wrath of the editor of the\n\u201cNorthern Luminary,\u201d who to the Demolisher of his contemporary replies\nwith a red-hot\n\n\nABUSER.\n\nIt is (says the editor of \u201cThe Northern Luminary\u201d) the nature of the\nserpent to sting, of the cur to bite, and of the editor of the Meridian\nSun, save the mark!--the farthing candle--to fabricate falsehoods. This\nlow scurrilous scribbler, this vile reptile, who leaves his slimy track\non every subject over which he crawls, is again spitting his venom at\nus, and the friends of social order. But we will put our heel on the\nloathsome toad, and crush him as we would the disgusting little animal\nwhich he so much resembles. We were not invited to Mr Priggins\u2019s dinner!\nWe _were_, thou prince of liars! We _were_ invited to the dinner, but\nwe treated the invitation with the contempt it deserved. We knew that\n_you_, the editor of the Farthing Candle, were to be there--(when did\n_you_ refuse a dinner, pray?)--and on _this_ account we declined the\ninvitation. We would not be seen sitting in the company of a man so\nutterly devoid of the feelings and principles of a gentleman, as the\nperson alluded to is well known to be; and this, we repeat, was the\nreason why we did not honour the dinner in question with our presence.\n\nThat Priggins was hissed, and that the evening was marked by a most\ndisgraceful disturbance, we have most respectable and most undoubted\nauthority for repeating, and we repeat it accordingly. The effrontery is\nindeed monstrous and unblushing that would deny facts so notorious. Let\nthe dastardly editor of the Farthing Candle _again_ deny those facts _if\nhe dare_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOur next specimen is from \u201cThe Patagonian,\u201d a paper of gigantic\ndimensions. It is\n\n\nTHE CONTRADICTOR\n\n(with calm and confident accompaniments).\n\nOur contemporary \u201cThe Watch Tower\u201d is grossly mistaken when he asserts\nthat Ministers were outvoted on the question of the potato monopoly.\nThey were _not_ outvoted. They merely abandoned the measure, as _we_\nforesaw they would do from the first, and as _we_ from the first advised\nthem to do. Our contemporary is equally wrong in ascribing to a certain\npolitical party an undue influence in the affairs of this city. _We_ know\nfor certain that the party alluded to have no such influence. The idea is\nabsurd.\n\nPray what _can_ \u201cThe Watch Tower\u201d mean by saying that the balance of\npower would not be in the least disturbed by Russia\u2019s taking possession\nof Timbuctoo. Absurd! The balance of power _would_ be disturbed, and very\nseriously too, by such a proceeding. By gaining possession of Timbuctoo,\nRussia would gain possession of Africa; and by gaining possession of\nAfrica, Russia would gain possession of Cape Coast Castle, the coast of\nGuinea, and the Cape of Good Hope; and by gaining the Cape of Good Hope,\nshe would deprive us of the East Indies. And, pray, where would we be\nthen? We put the question to our contemporary with solemn earnestness,\nand with calm composure wait for his reply.\n\nReally, our friend \u201cThe Watch Tower\u201d is but a so-so hand at politics. He\npositively should be more cautious how he speaks of matters with which he\nis unacquainted. The consequence of an opposite conduct is a series of\nthe most ridiculous blunders.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cThe Watch Tower\u201d is not to be contradicted and brow-beat in this way\nwith impunity. He gives in return\n\n\nA REJOINDER (with cool and easy settler).\n\nIn reply to certain captious remarks that appeared in yesterday\u2019s\nPatagonian on our leading article of the 15th instant, we beg to say, for\nthe information of the editor of that paper, that we did _not_ say that\nMinisters were outvoted on the potato question. What we did say was, that\nMinisters _would_ have been outvoted on that question had they brought it\nto issue. Strange that our contemporary _will_ not read us aright.\n\nAgain, in ascribing a certain influence to a certain party, we guarded\nour expressions by the word \u201cconditionally,\u201d which, however, our\ncontemporary, with his usual candour, has chosen to overlook, and thus\nentirely altered our meaning. Our contemporary concludes his tirade by\nasking us what we mean by saying \u201cthat the balance of power would not\nbe in the least disturbed by Russia\u2019s taking possession of Timbuctoo.\u201d\nNow, what will our readers think when we tell them that we made no such\nassertion? What we said was, that the balance of power would not be\ndisturbed by Russia\u2019s _occupying_ Timbuctoo, not possessing it, which\ndifference of expression makes, we apprehend, a material difference\nin meaning. We supposed Russia occupying Timbuctoo as a friend, not\npossessing it as an enemy; and in this view of the case we repeat\nthat the balance of power would in no ways be affected. We grant our\ncontemporary\u2019s conclusions, but deny his premises.\n\nWith regard to our contemporary\u2019s sneer at our political knowledge, we\nwould reply by calling his attention to his own blundering articles--(see\nhis incomprehensible article on the corn-laws, his interminable article\non the poor-rates, his unintelligible article on free trade and the\nKamschatka loan, &c. &c. &c.) The editor of the Patagonian may rest\nassured that he has much to learn in the science of politics, and much,\ntoo, that we could teach him, although it is no business of ours to\nenlighten his ignorance.\n\n                                                                       C.\n\n\n\n\nSLIGHTED LOVE, FROM THE SPANISH, BY M.\n\n\n    \u201c--And this is poor Anselmo\u2019s grave!\n      Ah, Juan! say of what he died--\n    For he was young, was young and brave,\n      Yet gentle as the cooing dove.\u201d--\n    \u201cHe died, alas!\u201d--and Juan sighed,--\n      \u201c_He died, he died of slighted love_.\u201d\n\n    \u201c--Poor youth!--And, Juan!--spake he aught\n      Of what he felt, before he died?\u201d--\n    \u201c--He said that all his pains were nought\n      Save one--of which he would not speak--\n      Alas! we had not far to seek\n    For that:--it was the one dark thought\n      Wherewith in vain his spirit strove--\n      _He died, he died of slighted love_.\u201d\n\n    \u201c--And when Death hovered nearer still,\n      What said he of his mournful fate?\u201d\n    \u201c--That death was not so sharp an ill--\n      That Life, o\u2019erdarkened by Despair,\n    Was bitterer far than Death to bear;\n      That rest awaits us in the tomb,\n    Where Anguish sleeps with Love and Hate.\n    Thus much he spake--and some were there\n      Who wept aloud his early doom;\n    But others knelt in silent prayer,--\n    And when they said that such as he\n      Were flowers that GOD took up to bloom\n    In Heaven, he smiled so thankfully!\n      And raised his failing eyes above--\n    _He died, he died of slighted love_.\u201d\n\n    \u201c--And--Shepherd!--when the heavenly spark\n      Was flickering in its lamp of clay,\n    Before the glassy eye grew dark,\n    What said he more? or said he aught?\u201d--\n    \u201c--But this--\u2018The pilgrim goes his way:--\n    Farewell the beauty of the moon!\n    Farewell the glory of the noon!\n    The home of rest my heart hath sought\n      So long in vain will soon be mine--\n    Soon will that heart, all quelled and cold,\n      Lie low aneath the trodden mould,\n    Which brings it Peace,--a welcome boon!\n      Yet Love, ah, Love is still divine,\n    And surely Goodness never dies!\u2019--\n    He said no more--we closed his eyes--\n      We laid him in the grassy grove--\n      _He died, he died of slighted love_.\u201d\n\n                                          --_Dublin University Magazine._\n\n\n\n\nROOSHKULUM, OR THE WISE SIMPLETON, A LEGEND OF CLARE.\n\nBY J. G. M\u2019TEAGUE.\n\n\nCorney Neylan, our village schoolmaster, when any question of arithmetic\nmay be proposed to him which he is in no humour to answer, and would\nrather turn off by a joke, has been frequently known to reply to it by\nasking _another_ question, like this:--\n\n\u201cNow, boys, ye\u2019re striving to puzzle me; and I\u2019ll engage none of ye can\nanswer something that I\u2019ll ask ye, now.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is it, Corney? Let\u2019s hear it!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow many grains of oatenmale are contained in one given square foot of\nstirabout?\u201d\n\nThis is, in its turn, a poser; but probably the number of schemes,\ntricks, and contrivances, in an Irish cranium, might be found as hard to\nbe enumerated as the grains of meal in the aforesaid foot of stirabout!\n\nThus, while around the blazing turf fire, on a winter\u2019s evening, the\nstory, the pipe, and the joke, take their rounds by turn, you will\ninvariably discover that that tale always gains a double share of\napplause which may contain a relation of some clever successful scheme\nor trick, or the \u201csayings and doings\u201d of some remarkably clever fellow,\nalbeit perhaps a great rogue; in fact, such stories as these are suited\nto the conceptions and tastes of a shrewd and ready-witted people.\n\nBut without tiring my reader with any more \u201cshanachus,\u201d for so we term\n\u201cpalaver\u201d in Clare, let me endeavour to present him with one of these\nvery stories, which, if it boasteth not of much interest, may perhaps\namuse him by its originality. Honour to that man, whomsoever he may be,\nwho first rescued these curious legends from oblivion, and found in our\nIrish Penny Journal an excellent repository for their safer preservation!\n\nThe reader must not be surprised if my story contains a slight dash of\nthe marvellous, probably bordering on the hyperbolical; but this, which\nI verily believe is but a kind of ornament, something superadded by the\ngenius of the narrators, as it has descended, must be taken as it is\nmeant, and will in most instances be found capable of _translation_, as\nit were, into language easily and naturally to be explained.\n\nA very long time ago, then, somewhere in the western part of the province\nof Munster, lived, in a small and wretched cabin, a poor widow, named\nMoireen Mera. She had three sons, two of whom were fine young men; but\nthe third--and of him we shall soon hear a good deal--though strong and\nactive, was of a lazy disposition, which resulted, as his mother at\nleast always thought, not so much from any fault of his own, as from his\nnatural foolishness of character; in fact, she really considered him as\nof that class called in Ireland \u201cnaturals.\u201d But before we say anything of\nthe third son, let us trace the histories of his two elder brothers.\n\nNow, the first, whose name was Mihal More, or Michael Big Fellow, either\nthat he considered the small spot of land which his mother held quite\nunable to support the family, or was actuated by some desire to improve\nhis condition away from home, never let his mother rest one moment until\nshe had consented to his starting, in order that he might, as he said,\nshould he fall in with a good master, return, and perhaps make her\ncomfortable for the remainder of her days.\n\nTo this plan, after much hesitation, Moireen Mera at length agreed, and\nthe day was fixed by Mihal for starting. \u201cAnd, mother,\u201d said he, \u201cthough\nyou have but little left, and it is wrong to deprive you of it, if you\n_would_ but bake me a fine cake of wheaten bread, and if you _could_ but\nspare me one of the hens--ah! that would be too much to ask!--against the\nlong road; could you, mother?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not, Michael? I could never refuse you any thing; and you will want\nthe cake and the hen badly enough. And, Mihal, _a vick asthore!_ if you\n_should_ ever meet _one of the good people_, or any thing you may think\n_isn\u2019t right_, pass it by, and say not a word.\u201d\n\nIt was evening when he began his expedition, nor did he stop on the\nroad till daylight returned, when he found himself in the centre of a\nwood, and very faint and hungry. Seeing a convenient-looking rock near a\nplace where he thought it most probable he should find water, he seated\nhimself, with the intention of satisfying his hunger and thirst.\n\nHe had not been many moments engaged in eating some of his bread, and had\njust commenced an attack on the hen, by taking off one of her wings, when\nthere came up to him a poor greyhound, which looked the very picture of\nstarvation. Greyhounds are proverbially thin, but this was thinner than\nthe thinnest, and, it was easy to see, had doubtlessly left at home a\nnumerous young family.\n\nMihal More was so very intent on eating that he heeded not the imploring\nlook of the poor greyhound, and it was not till, wonderful to say, she\naddressed him in _intelligible Irish_, that he deigned to notice her. But\nwhen the first word came from her mouth, he was sure she must be one of\nthose against any communication with whom his mother had so emphatically\nwarned him, and accordingly determined to apply her maxim strictly to the\noccurrence.\n\n\u201cYou are a traveller, I see,\u201d said the greyhound, \u201cand were doubtless\nweary and fainting with hunger when you took your seat here. I am the\nmother of a numerous and helpless family, who are even now clamorous\nfor subsistence; this I am unable to afford them, unless I am myself\nsupported. _You_ have now the means. Afford it to me, then, if only in\nthe shape of a few of the hen\u2019s small bones; I will be for ever grateful,\nand may perhaps be the means of serving you in turn when you may most\nwant and least expect it.\u201d\n\nBut Mihal continued sedulously picking the bones, and when he had\nfinished, he put them all back into his wallet, still resolving to have\nnothing whatever to do with this fairy, represented, as he imagined, by\nthe greyhound.\n\n\u201cWell!\u201d said she, piteously, \u201csince you give _me_ nothing, follow me. You\nare perhaps in search of service; my master, who knows not my faculty of\nspeech, lives near; _he_ may assist you. And see,\u201d continued she, as he\nfollowed, \u201cbehold that well. Had you relieved me, it was in my power to\nhave changed its contents, which are of _blood_, to the finest virgin\nhoney; but the honey is beneath the blood, neither can it now be changed!\nHowever, try your fortune, and if you are a reasonably sensible fellow, I\nmay yet relent, and be reconciled to you.\u201d\n\nMihal still answered not a word, but followed the greyhound, until she\ncame to the gate of a comfortable farmer\u2019s residence. She entered the\ndoor, and Mihal saw her occupy her place at the side of the fire, and\nthat she was quickly besieged by a number of clamorous postulants, whose\nwants she seemed but poorly adequate to supply.\n\nAt a glance he perceived that the house contained a master and a\nmistress; but an old lady in the chimney corner, having by her a pair of\ncrutches, made him quail, by the sinister expression of her countenance.\nStill, nothing daunted, he asked the master of the house at once for\nemployment.\n\n\u201cPlenty of employment have I, friend, and good wages,\u201d answered he, \u201cbut\nI am a man of a thousand: and I may also say, not one man of a thousand\nwill stop with me in this house.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd may I ask the reason of this, sir?\u201d said Mihal, taking off his hat\nrespectfully.\n\n\u201cI will answer you immediately; but first follow me into my garden.\nThere,\u201d said he, pointing to a heap of bones which lay bleaching on the\nground, \u201c_they_ are the bones of those unfortunate persons who have\nfollowed in my service; if now, therefore, you should so wish, you have\nmy full permission to depart unhurt: if you will brave them, hear now the\nterms on which I must be served.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d answered Mihal, \u201cyou surprise me. I have travelled far, have no\nmoney, neither any more to eat; say, therefore, your terms; and if I can\nat all reconcile myself to them, I am prepared to stop here.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must understand, then,\u201d said the farmer, \u201cthat I hold my lands by a\nvery unusual tenure. This is not my fault. However, you will find _me_ an\nindulgent master to _you_, at all events; for, in fact, you may chance\nto be my master as much as I yours, or perhaps more; for _these_ are the\nterms:--\n\n\u201cIf _I_, at any time, first find fault with any one thing _you_ may\nsay or do, _you_ are to be solemnly bound to take this (pointing to an\nimmense and sharp axe) and forthwith, without a word, strike _me_ till\n_I_ shall be dead: but should _you_, at any one time, first find fault\nwith one of _my_ words or actions, _I_ must be equally bound to do the\nvery same dreadful thing to _yourself_. Blame _me_ not, therefore, should\n_you_ find fault with _me_, for it will be my destiny, nay, my duty, to\ndo as I have described; and, on the contrary, if it happen _otherwise_, I\nmust be ready to submit to my fate. Consider, and reply.\u201d\n\n\u201cO, my master!\u201d said Mihal More, \u201cI have but the alternative of\nstarvation; I am in a strangely wild country, without a friend. I _must_\ndie, if I proceed, and nothing more dreadful than death can happen to\nme here. I therefore throw myself on your compassion, and agree to your\nterms.\u201d\n\nThey then returned to the house, and Mihal felt somewhat refreshed,\neven by the smell alone of the savoury viands which the mistress was\nthen preparing for the afternoon\u2019s repast; the greyhound, too, cast\noccasionally wistful glances towards the operations going forward.\n\nAt length the dinner hour being all but arrived, the old lady in the\nchimney-corner then opened her lips for the first time since Mihal had\ncome in, and expressed a wish to go out and take a walk; \u201cfor,\u201d said she,\n\u201cI have not been out for some weeks, ever since our last servant left us.\nWhat is your name, my man?\u201d So he told her. \u201cCome out, then,\u201d said she,\n\u201cMihal, and assist me about the garden, for I am completely cramped.\u201d\n\nMihal muttered a few words about dinner, hunger, and so on, but was\ninterrupted by the farmer, who said, \u201cMihal, you _must_ attend my mother;\nshe has sometimes strange fancies. Besides, remember our agreement. _Do\nyou find fault with me?_\u201d\n\n\u201cO, by no means, sir,\u201d said Mihal, frightened; \u201cI must do my business, I\nsuppose.\u201d\n\nThe dinner was actually laid out on the plates to every one when Mihal\nand the old lady walked out. No sooner had they done so, than the\ngreyhound, before she could be prevented, pounced on his dinner, and\ndevoured it in a moment!\n\nThe old lady thought proper to walk for some hours in the garden; and now\nwas Mihal very hungry, for he had tasted nothing since he had finished\nthe hen early that morning; he almost began to wish that he had relieved\nthe greyhound.\n\nWhen they came in at last, the supper was being prepared. Mihal was now\nquite certain that his wants would be attended to; but how woefully\nwas he doomed to be disappointed! For, no sooner had they entered the\nhouse than the accursed old lady seized a large cake of wheaten bread,\nwhich was baking on the embers, and, hastily spreading on it a coat of\nbutter, directed Mihal to attend her again into the garden! He could say\nnothing, for his master\u2019s eyes were on him. He was completely bewildered.\nIn despair he went with the old lady, and as it was a lovely moonlight\nnight, she stopped out an unusual time, and it was very late when they\ncame in.\n\nMihal stretched himself, quite fainting, on the bed, but slept not a\nwink. How I wish, now, thought he, that I had given the greyhound not\nonly the small bones, but even half my hen!\n\nThe next morning the family early assembled for breakfast, and again were\nthe cakes put down to bake over the glowing fire. _Again_ did the old\nlady seize one, and command Mihal into the garden!\n\nHe was now completely exhausted; and, determining to expostulate with his\nmaster when he came in, went up to him, craving some food.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said the farmer; \u201cwe never eat except at stated times, and my\nmother keeps the keys.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, sir, have pity on me!\u201d answered Mihal; \u201chow can I exist, or do your\nbusiness?\u201d\n\n\u201c_And can you blame me?_\u201d said the master.\n\nMihal, now quite losing sight of the agreement, and confused by the\nquestion, put in so treacherous a manner, answered, \u201cthat of course he\ncould not but blame any person who would permit such infamous conduct.\u201d\n\nHere was the signal. Mihal, in his enfeebled state, was no match for\nthe sturdy farmer; in a moment his head was rolling on the floor by a\nvigorous stroke of the fatal axe, while grins of satisfaction might\nbe seen playing on the countenances both of the old lady, _and her\ngreyhound_!\n\nThe feelings of the poor widow may be imagined, when no tidings ever\nreached her of her Mihal More. But, on the expiration of a year, the\nsecond son, Pauthrick Dhuv, or Patrick Black Fellow, so called from his\ndark complexion, also prevailed on his mother to let him go in search of\nhis brother, and of employment.\n\nBut why should I describe again the horrid scene? Let me satisfy you by\nmerely saying that precisely the same occurrences also happened to poor\nPauthrick Dhuv, and that his bones were added to those of his brother,\nand of the other victims behind the farmer\u2019s garden!\n\nBut when, in the course of another year, neither Mihal nor Pauthrick\nappeared, the widow\u2019s grief was unbounded. How was she, then, astonished,\nwhen \u201cthe fool,\u201d as he was yet always called, although his real name was\nRooshkulum, actually volunteered to do the same! Nothing could stop him:\ngo he would. So the cake was baked, the hen was killed and roasted, and\nRooshkulum, \u201cthe fool,\u201d set out on _his_ expedition. And _there_, at the\nrock in the wood, was that very same greyhound; and as soon as she had\nlooked him in the face, he said, \u201cWhy, poor thing! I have here what I\ncannot eat, and you seem badly to need it; here are these bones and some\nof this cake.\u201d\n\nIt was _then_ the greyhound addressed him. \u201cCome with me,\u201d said she; \u201clo!\nhere is the well, of which _your two brothers_ could not drink: behold!\nhere is the honey on the top, clear and pure, but the blood is far\nbeneath!\u201d\n\nWhen \u201cthe fool\u201d had satisfied himself at this well, he followed the\ngreyhound to the farmer\u2019s house. It _may_ be barely possible that by the\nroad he received from her some excellent advice.\n\nThe conversation that ensued when Rooshkulum arrived at the farmer\u2019s, and\noffered himself for his servant, was much of the same nature as I have\nbefore detailed while relating the former part of my story. \u201cBut,\u201d said\nRooshkulum the fool, \u201cI will not bind myself to these terms for ever; I\nmight get tired of you, or you of me; so, if you please, I will agree to\nstop with you for certain till we both hear the cuckoo cry when we are\ntogether.\u201d\n\nTo this they agreed, and went into the house. However, just before they\nstepped in, the farmer asked Rooshkulum his name.\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d said he, \u201cmine is a very curious name: it is so curious\na name, indeed, that you would never learn it; and where is the\noccasion of breaking your jaws every minute trying to call me\n\u2018Pondracaleuthashochun,\u2019 which _is_ my real name, when you may as well\ncall me always \u2018the Boy?\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWell! that will do,\u201d answered the master.\n\nThe dinner was now prepared, and laid out on the plates, and the old\ntricks about to be played. Rooshkulum, as with the others, could not find\nfault, for, fool as he was, he knew the consequences. As he went out with\nthe old lady, she too inquired his name.\n\n\u201cWhy, really,\u201d said he to her, \u201cmine is a name that no one, I venture\nto say, was ever called before. All my brothers and sisters died, and\nmy father and mother thought that perhaps an unusual queer kind of name\nmight have luck, so they called me \u2018_Mehane_.\u2019\u201d\n\nAnd, reader, if thou understandest not our vernacular, know that \u201cMehane\u201d\nsignifies in English \u201cmyself.\u201d\n\nThey spent some hours, as usual, in the garden, and Rooshkulum returned\ntired and exhausted. But when he expected to get his supper, and when she\nagain brought him out, and ate the fine hot buttered cake before his very\neyes, it was more than flesh and blood could stand. However, he pretended\nnot to mind it in the least, but was very civil to the old lady, amusing\nher by his silly stories. \u201cAnd now, ma\u2019am,\u201d said he, \u201clet\u2019s walk a little\nway down this sunny bank before we go in.\u201d\n\nCertain it was that the sun did happen to shine on the bank at that very\ntime, but it was to what were _growing_ on it that he wished to direct\nher close attention; for when he came to a certain place where there was\na cavity filled by a rank growth of nettles, thistles, and thorns, he\ngave his charge such a shove as sent her sprawling and kicking in the\nmidst of them, uttering wild shrieks, for the pain was great.\n\nBut Rooshkulum had no notion of helping her out, and ran into the house,\nwhich was some distance away, desiring the farmer to run, for that his\nmother _would_ walk there, and had fallen into a hole, from which he\ncould not get her out. And then the farmer ran, and cried, \u201cO, mother,\nwhere are you? what has happened?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas, my son! here I am down in this hole! Help me out! I am ruined,\ndisfigured for life!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd _who_ is it,\u201d said the farmer, \u201cthat has dared to serve you thus?\u201d\n\n\u201cO,\u201d said she, \u201cit was Mehane! _Mehane a veil Mehane!_\u201d (Myself has\nruined myself!)\n\n\u201cWho?\u201d said the farmer, as he helped her out.\n\n\u201cO, it was _Mehane_,\u201d answered she; \u201c_Mehane a veil Mehane!_\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then,\u201d said the farmer, \u201cI suppose it can\u2019t be helped, as it was\nyourself that did it. So here, \u2018Boy!\u2019 take her on your back, and carry\nher home: it was but an accident!\u201d\n\nSo Rooshkulum carried her off and put her to bed, she all the time\ncrying out. \u201cAh! but it was _Myself_ that ruined Myself!\u201d till her son\nthought her half cracked. She was quite unable to rise next morning; so\nRooshkulum \u201cthe fool\u201d made an excellent and hearty breakfast, which he\ntook care also to share with the greyhound.\n\nBut then the old lady called her son to her bedside, and explained how\nthat it was \u201cthe Boy\u201d who had done the mischief, \u201cand I command you,\u201d\nsaid she, \u201cto get rid of him, and for that purpose desire him at once to\ngo and make \u2018cuisseh na cuissheh na guirach\u2019 (the road of the sheeps\u2019\nfeet), that you have long been intending to do, and then to send him with\nthe flock over the road to the land of the giant; we shall then never see\nhim more; and it is better to lose even a flock of sheep than have him\nlonger here, now that he has discovered our trick.\u201d\n\nThe farmer called Rooshkulum to him, and taxed him with what he had done\nto his mother.\n\n\u201cAnd,\u201d said Rooshkulum, \u201c_could you blame me_?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, no,\u201d answered the farmer, remembering _his_ part of the agreement,\n\u201c_I don\u2019t blame you_, but you must never do it any more. And now you must\ntake these (pointing to the sheep), and because the bog is soft on the\nroad to the \u2018land of the giant,\u2019 you must make \u2018the road of the sheeps\u2019\nfeet\u2019 for them to go over, and come back when they are fat, and the giant\nwill support you while you are there. _Do you blame me for that?_\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Rooshkulum, driving away the sheep.\n\nBut, contrary to all their expectations, in an hour\u2019s time in marched\nRooshkulum, covered with bog dirt and blood. \u201cO!\u201d said he, \u201cI have had\nhard work since, and made a good deal of the road of the sheeps\u2019 legs;\nbut, indeed, there are not half enough legs after all, and you must give\nme more legs, if you would wish the road made firm.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd, you rascal, do you tell me you have cut off the legs of all my fine\nsheep?\u201d\n\n\u201cEvery one, sir; did you not desire me? _Do you blame me?_\u201d\n\n\u201cO dear no! by no means! Only take care, and don\u2019t do it any more.\u201d\n\nThey went on tolerably for a few days, for they were afraid of\nRooshkulum, and let him alone, till one morning the farmer told him he\nwas going to a wedding that night, and that he might go with him.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Rooshkulum, \u201cwhat is a wedding? what will they do there?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d answered the farmer, \u201ca wedding is a fine place, where there is a\ngood supper, and two people are joined together as man and wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cO, is that it? I should like much to see what they\u2019ll do.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, you must promise me to do what I\u2019ll tell you with the horses\nwhen we are going.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, what shall I do?\u201d\n\n\u201cO, only when we are going, _don\u2019t take your eyes from the horses_ till\nwe get there; then have your _two eyes_ on my plate, and _an eye_ on\nevery other person\u2019s plate; and _then_ you\u2019ll see what they\u2019ll do.\u201d\n\nRooshkulum said nothing. They went to the wedding; but when they sat down\nto supper, all were surprised to find a round thing on their plates,\ncovered with blood, and not looking very tempting. But the farmer soon\nguessed the sad truth, and calling Rooshkulum aside, he sternly asked him\nwhat he had done.\n\n\u201c_Can you blame me?_\u201d answered the provoking Rooshkulum; \u201cdid you not\ndesire me not to take the eyes from the horses till I got here, and to\nput them on the plates, and two on your own plate, and that I would see\nwhat they would do then?\u201d\n\n\u201c_O, don\u2019t imagine I blame you_,\u201d said the farmer; \u201cbut I meant your own\neyes all the time; and, mind me, _don\u2019t do it any more_!\u201d\n\nThey were all by this time heartily sick of Rooshkulum, especially\nthe old lady, who had never left her bed; and one morning, feeling\nsomething better, she called the farmer to her bedside, and addressed\nhim thus:--\u201cYou know, my son, that your agreement with that rascal will\nterminate when you both shall hear the cuckoo. Now, in my youth I could\nimitate the cuckoo so well that I have had them flying round me. Put me\nup, therefore, in the big holly bush; take him along with you to cut a\ntree near; I will then cry \u2018cuckoo!\u2019 \u2018cuckoo!\u2019 and the agreement will be\nbroken!\u201d said she, chuckling to herself.\n\nThis seemed a capital idea; so the farmer lifted his mother out of bed,\nand put her up into the holly bush, calling Rooshkulum to bring the\nbig axe, for that he intended to fell a tree. Rooshkulum did as he was\ndesired, and commenced cutting down a certain tree, which the farmer\npointed out. And not long had he been thus engaged when the old lady in\nthe holly bush cried out \u201ccuckoo!\u201d \u201ccuckoo!\u201d \u201cHah! what\u2019s that?\u201d said the\nfarmer; \u201cthat sounds like the cuckoo!\u201d\n\n\u201cO, that cannot be,\u201d said Rooshkulum, \u201cfor this is winter!\u201d\n\nBut now the cuckoo was heard, beyond a doubt.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Rooshkulum, \u201cbefore I\u2019ve done with you, I\u2019ll go and see this\ncuckoo.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, you stupid fool!\u201d said the farmer, \u201cno man ever saw the cuckoo.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind!\u201d said Rooshkulum, \u201cit can be no harm to look. Wouldn\u2019t you\nthink, now, that the cuckoo was speaking out of the holly bush?\u201d\n\n\u201cO, not at all!--perhaps she is five miles away. Come away at once and\ngive up your place. Did not we both hear her?\u201d\n\n\u201cStop!\u201d said Rooshkulum; \u201cstay back! don\u2019t make a noise! There! did not\nyou see something moving? Ay! THAT must be the cuckoo!\u201d\n\nSo saying, he hurled the axe up into the holly bush with his whole force,\ncutting away the branches, scattering the leaves and berries, and with\none blow severing the head from the shoulders of the farmer\u2019s mother!\n\n\u201cO!\u201d said the farmer, \u201cmy poor old mother! O! what have you done, you\nvillain! You have murdered my mother!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd,\u201d said Rooshkulum (seemingly surprised), \u201c_I suppose you BLAME me\nfor this, do you?_\u201d\n\nAnd _now_ was the farmer taken by surprise, and in the heat of his\npassion answered, \u201cHow dare you, you black-hearted villain, ask me such a\nquestion? Of course I do! Have you not murdered my mother? Alas! my poor\nold mother.\u201d\n\n\u201cO, very well!\u201d said Rooshkulum, as the farmer continued looking at\nhis mother, and lamenting, \u201cperhaps you also remember our own little\nagreement. I have but too good reason to think that you and your accursed\nold mother, by your schemes, caused the death of my two fine brothers.\nBut now for the fulfilment of my share of the bargain!\u201d\n\nIn a moment the axe descended on his head; and Rooshkulum, _the wise\nsimpleton_, having now got rid of his enemies, took possession of all\nthe farmer\u2019s property, returned home for his mother, and lived free from\ncare or further sorrow for the remainder of his happy life; but he never\nforgot the services of the greyhound, and never allowed her to want.\n\nAnd here let us conclude our legend, by observing, by way of moral, \u201cBe\never charitable to the distressed, whether of the brute or human kind,\nfor you know not but that they also may belong to the ranks of \u2018the good\npeople!\u2019\u201d\n\n\n\n\nAGRICULTURAL EDUCATION FOR THE WORKING CLASSES.\n\n\nThat agricultural improvement is extending with very rapid strides in\nmany parts of Ireland, is evident to all who have had an opportunity of\nobserving the country; the best proof of which is, perhaps, that our\nagricultural exports have been greatly increased for some years past,\nwhilst during the same period the population has been augmented to a\ndegree unprecedented in any of the _old_ countries of the world. That our\nexporting food to such an extent is a proof of the wealth or happiness of\nthose who produce it, may well admit of doubt, otherwise the miserable\nserfs of Russia, Poland, and other corn-growing countries, would be\nentitled to rank higher in the scale of happiness than the English\nfarmers, who are not able to raise sufficient food for their own country!\nBut notwithstanding the pleasing proofs of improvements in farming\nwhich meet the eye of the tourist in various parts of the country, and\nparticularly in the north, he will in too many places find it difficult\nto imagine anything worse either in the farms, the habitations, the\ncattle, or the implements, even should he extend the retrospect to a\nperiod ever so remote.\n\nAgricultural schools, with even a single acre of land attached, and\nworked by the elder boys on a system of rotation adapted to the ground\nand to the district in which it happened to be situated, would soon\neffect a wonderful reformation in the farming of the country. That such\nwould be the happy result, is self-evident; and we are strengthened in\nour conviction by having witnessed in very many instances the good effect\nof the agricultural education imparted at Templemoyle, in the county of\nLondonderry. Entertaining these views, we need hardly say how much we\nwere gratified by a visit to one of these schools a short time since,\nsituated in a remote and secluded part of the county of Donegal. Here,\non the estate of Sir Charles Styles, Bart., and under the direction of\nhis efficient agent, whose anxiety and exertions towards bettering the\ncondition of the poor of this county are well known and appreciated, we\nfound a small piece of ground being laid out into five divisions, as an\nexample of the five-course rotation suited to that part of the country;\nin the school-room were suspended tables, exhibiting at one view, plain,\npractical instructions as to the season for performing the different work\non the farm; the quantity and best kind of seeds to be sown; and, in one\nword, the _modus operandi_, according to the most improved practice; and\nthe proficiency of many of the boys, not only in agriculture, but in\nlevelling and surveying, was most creditable. We cannot, perhaps, better\nsecond the exertions of Captain Kennedy and other philanthropists engaged\nin the regeneration of their country, than by bringing under the notice\nof the public an instance of the successful working of the system we have\nhere advocated.\n\nThe undrained fenceless farm, with its many-angled small fields and\ncrooked ridges, exhausted to the last degree by successive corn crops, is\nstill but too general; and the habitations, notwithstanding the marked\nimprovement in their appearance in many places, in many others accord\nbut too faithfully with the melancholy picture that has been drawn of\nthem by so many observers--\u201cwalls decayed, roofs bent and sunken, thatch\ntattered, no windows, no chimneys; the turf-smoke rolling slowly from the\ndoors, or seeking its way through the chinks and crevices innumerable\nwith which these hovels abound. The appearance of the inmates corresponds\nwith that of the miserable tenements--ill clad, squalid, haggard,\nlistless and idle, in every countenance discontent strongly marked,\nand in some an expression akin to despair.\u201d Such is the description\ngiven by Mr Weld in his Statistical Survey of Roscommon, taken in 1831.\nOne epithet in that accurate description requires to be qualified to\nthose who have not seen the interesting and highly valuable work from\nwhich it is taken. The poor of Elphin were \u201cidle,\u201d not of choice, but\nbecause the employment which offered itself in the wastes and sites for\nmanufactories with which he describes the country to abound, were not\nrendered available; and throughout the country, wherever idleness and\nits concomitant misery are observable, there also it will be found that\nthese evils are traceable to a want of sympathy and exertion on the\npart of the owners of the soil; for abundantly remunerating employment\nabounds in every part of the country. We cannot resist, even at the\nrisk of extending this paper beyond the limits which we had at first\nproposed to ourselves, the temptation to bring forward an instance of\nthat industry which we have never seen wanting when the inducement or\neven the possibility of exercising it with effect was present, afforded\ntoo by these same \u201cidle\u201d people of Elphin, as recorded in the same\nwork. \u201cGirls,\u201d observes Mr Weld, \u201camongst whom some were really pretty\nand delicate, and of an age and frame of body seemingly but ill-suited\nto the task, sought a precarious and hard-earned livelihood in hawking\nturf about the town in cleaves, which they had carried on their backs\nfrom the bog, distant about two miles. The ordinary weight of one of\nthese cleaves was three stones, or forty-two pounds, sometimes more. The\nprice _asked_ for two cleaves was only 3\u00bdd, but as demands of this kind\nordinarily exceed the selling price, 1\u00bdd might probably be set down as\nthe utmost price of a single cleave; from this was to be deducted the\nprice of the turf at the bog, the small surplus being all the gains for\nbearing this heavy burden, mostly up hill, and afterwards hawking it from\nhouse to house.\u201d The cattle in the demesnes of the gentry and on dairy\nfarms have in like manner been greatly improved within a few years, but\namongst the small farmers the description of stock is in many places bad\nin the extreme; improvement in this branch of economy cannot take place,\nhowever, except as the consequence of an improved system of farming.\nAs a powerful means of extending a knowledge of improved husbandry,\nif properly exercised, we have regarded since their establishment the\nNational Schools of Ireland.\n\nA cotemporary says, \u201cThe agriculture of Bavaria has experienced a great\nimprovement in consequence of the system of national education which\nhas been adopted, and by the teaching of agriculture and gardening both\nby books and examples in the schools. One of the first consequences\nwas an improved rotation of crops. Almost the whole of the details of\nagricultural improvement in Bavaria have originated with M. Hazzi, an\nagricultural writer, and editor of an agricultural journal in Munich.\nThe activity and patriotic benevolence of this gentleman are beyond\nall praise. It was chiefly through his exertions that a piece of ground\nwas added to every parochial school in Bavaria, to be cultivated by the\nscholars in their leisure hours, under the direction of the master.\nIn these schools, Hazzi\u2019s Catechism of Gardening, of Agriculture, of\nDomestic Economy and Cookery, of Forest Culture, of Orchard Culture,\nand others, all small duodecimo volumes with woodcuts, sold at about\nfourpence each, are taught to all the boys; and those of Gardening, the\nManagement of Silk Worms, and Domestic Economy, to the girls. Since these\nschools have come into action, an entirely new generation of cultivators\nhas arisen; and the consequence is, that agriculture in Bavaria, and\nespecially what may be called cottage agriculture and economy, is, as far\nas we are able to judge, carried to a higher degree of perfection than\nit is any where else in the central states of Germany; at all events, we\ncan affirm that we never saw finer crops of drilled Swedish and common\nturnips, or finer surfaces of young clover, than we observed along the\nroad sides in October and November 1828. The fences also were generally\nin perfect order, and a degree of neatness appeared about the cottages\nwhich is far from common either in France or Germany. These remarks are\nnot the results of observations made, as is frequently the case, from\nthe cabriolet of a public diligence, but from deliberate inspection. The\nresult of the whole of the information procured, and of the observations\nmade, is, that we think the inhabitants of Bavaria promise soon to be, if\nthey are not already, among the happiest people in Germany.\u201d\n\n                                                                       M.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nCIRCASSIAN WOMEN.--We observed two women looking out of a balcony, and\nearnestly beckoning to us. We entered the house, and saw two Russian\ngrenadiers, who by a mistake of their corporal had taken their quarters\nhere, and whose presence was the cause of the inquietude manifested by\nthe two ladies, who, with an old man, were the only inhabitants of the\nhouse. Whilst the soldiers were explaining these things to us, they\nappeared at the top of the stairs, and again renewed their invitation\nby violent gesticulations. On a nearer approach, we guessed by their\nage that they were mother and daughter. The former, who still preserved\nmuch of the freshness and beauty of youth, wore very wide trousers, a\nshort tunic, and a veil, which fell in graceful folds on her back; while\nround her neck she had some valuable jewels, though badly mounted. With\nrespect to the daughter, who was scarcely fifteen years of age, she was\nso extraordinarily beautiful, that both my companion and myself remained\nawhile motionless, and struck with admiration. Never in my life have I\nseen a more perfect form. Her dress consisted of a short white tunic,\nalmost transparent, fastened only at the throat by a clasp. A veil,\nnegligently thrown over one shoulder, permitted part of her beautiful\nebony tresses to be seen. Her trousers were of an extremely fine tissue,\nand her socks of the most delicate workmanship. The old man received us\nin a room adjoining the staircase; he was seated on the carpet, smoking a\nsmall pipe, according to the custom of the inhabitants of the Caucasus,\nwho cultivate tobacco. He made repeated signs to us to sit down, that\nis to say, in the Asiatic manner--a posture extremely inconvenient for\nthose who like ourselves wore long and tight trousers, whilst the two\nbeautiful women on their side earnestly seconded his request. We complied\nwith it, though it was the first time that either of us made the essay.\nThe ladies, having left the room for a moment, returned with a salver\nof dried fruits, and a beverage made with sugar and milk; but I was so\nmuch engaged in admiring their personal attractions, that I paid but\nlittle attention to their presents. It appeared to me an inconceivable\ncaprice of nature to have produced such prodigies of perfection amidst\nsuch a rude and barbarous people, who value their women less than their\nstirrups. My companion, who like myself was obliged to accept of their\nrefreshments, remarked to me, whilst the old man was conversing with\nthem, what celebrity a woman so transcendantly beautiful as the daughter\nwas, would acquire in any of the capitals of Europe, had she but received\nthe benefits of a suitable education.--_New Monthly Magazine._\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.--Agents:--R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley,\n    Paternoster Row, London; SIMMS and DINHAM, Exchange Street,\n    Manchester; C. DAVIES, North John Street, Liverpool; SLOCOMBE &\n    SIMMS, Leeds; JOHN MENZIES, Prince\u2019s Street, Edinburgh; & DAVID\n    ROBERTSON, Trongate, Glasgow.","title":"The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 39, March 27, 1841","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":11324}