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the simple blending harmoniously together under a clear sunshine, combine to fill up the rich features of the splendid landscape, over which the eye cannot but wander with pleasure.

- The present Panorama is taken from the church of St. Carlo in the suburb of Wiedon on the very verge of the Glacis, which, with its fine trees and verdant lawns, intersected by the Wien, forms the immediate foreground of the view. Directly in front towards the north-west, lies the Bourg or old city, the cathedral nearly in the centre on the highest ground, proudly and prominently presenting itself and its rich Gothic tower, far above the surrounding mass of buildings. Facing the Glacis, and within the ancient walls, is the wide-extended facade of the Imperial palace, with the Emperor's garden, and the extensive grounds of the Volksgarten in front, and a long line of fine houses facing the ramparts ; behind is one dense mass of buildings, churches, vast palaces, and immense public edifices, so closely built, that the streets dividing them can scarcely be defined. Towards the left, divided from the city by the broad green girdle of the Glacis, are seen several of the largest suburbs, and the view is closed by the lofty Kahlenberg and other mountains, forming part of a vast chain covered by forests and vineyards, and stretch far towards the south until they fade in the distance. To the right of the city the view extends over a similar range of suburbs, to the refreshing foliage and cool shades of the finely wooded Prater, and the many islands of the Danube. Towards the south and east the eye commands a vast extent of the suburbs of a somewhat Italian character, in which several churches and public buildings, and many magnificent palaces are seen ; especially the Imperial galleries of the two Belvideres, and the palaces and gardens of the Princes Lichtenstein, Schwartzenberg, Metternich, and many others; beyond stretches an agreeable country, thickly studded with villages, villas, and pleasant retreats, and a vast plain spreading in all directions, in some parts to the very verge of the horizon, in others bounded by the mountains of Hungary. A multitude of objects of interest and beauty present themselves at every point ; the Danube, now united in one broad stream, is seen winding its course in several parts, the famous villages of Aspern, Essling, Wagram, and Schonbrunn, with the lovely country around, backed by the Brühl and Baden hills, and the scarcely visible castle of Pressburg in the extreme distance, all combine to complete the varied and splended scene."

THE BRITISH INSTITUTION.

Tøs fine annual exhibition of pictures has opened with a collection nowise inferior to those of preceding years. The two productions of Ansdell, “ The Bogged Pony,” and “ The Wounded Hound,” are admirable specimens of animal painting, approaching very closely to the wonders of the art of Landseer. “ The Moving the Address on Opening the First Reformed Parliament,” by Sir George Hayter, is elaborately and ably executed; the portraits are good, and the whole forms a picture of much historic interest. Added to these paintings there are some exquisite landscapes, well worthy of attention, which altogether maintain the value and fame of the British Institution.

LITERATURE.

REVELATIONS OF IRELAND IN THE PAST GENERATION. By D. OWEN

MADDEN, Esq., of the Inner Temple, author of « Ireland and its Rulers ;" “ The Age of Pitt and Fox,” &c., &c.—Dublin: James M'Glashan, 21 D’Olier Street; Orr and Co., 147 Strand, London. 1848.

This is a remarkably pleasant, and at the same time, a very sagacious book. Amid the much misery, and the much mis-agitation which depress and deter the progress in Ireland of sober and sensible literature, it is cheering to come across a work like this, written in a right spirit of honest consideration and ready conciliation. The author evinces sound sense and argument in the comments he makes on the woes and grievances of unhappy Erin; but the subject, at the best, is an unpleasant one, and we willingly turn from it to what forms the brighter portion of the book—we mean the continued series of domestic histories, biographic sketches, and amusing anecdotes with which its pages abound. The commencement of the volume gives an extremely interesting and entertaining description of the renowned Munster Bar, at the times of Curran, FitzGibbon, Barry Yelverton, and O'Connell. Two of its wits-one, the poet Lysaght--are thus portrayed :

“Jerry Keller was among the best lawyers on the circuit. But he was still better known for his incomparable social powers. He was the joyousest of once-embodied spirits —

A gay thirsty soul, As e'er cra:ked a bottle, or fathoined a bowl.' He was fit to have lived with that jolly old lawyer, Sir Toby Butler, the famed toper, who toasted away claret, and tossed repartees, after a style which gained him a prodigious tavern reputation. Though not such a wit as Curran, his company was almost as much ought after by convivial spirits. Keller sacrificed his fame and fortune to the love of society. He joined a sound and capacious understanding to a spirit whimsical, reckless, and dro'l. For legal depth and dinner-table drollery, no one man ever came near him. There were times, however, when Keller half repented of the way in which he had passed his time. He gave utterance to this feeling on the first day that the late Judge Mayne took his seat upon the bench. Mayne was a formal coxcomb-a thing of solemn, artificial, legal foppery, with a manner of intense gravity, and a well got np look of profundity. He had passed himself off on the public as a deep lawyer, and was never found out by the same discerning public until he was made a judge, "Ah! Mayne,' said Keller in a voice half audible, “my levity keeps me down here, while your gravity has raised you up there?

"A little after the time when Lord Yelverton was raised to the Viscountcy of Avonmore-a promotion partly owing to the noble and learned lord's support of the Union-he had asked Keller to dine with him. Curran was there, and so also was the notorious Bully Egan. After dinner he shewed the company the patent of his title of viscount. The honour way an Irish one, as he was never made an English peer; but one of the lawyers present had mooted a point, as to whether the same style of patent could be used by the Crown, now that the Parliaments were united. Curran and Egan read the patent of viscount, and both said that it was legally exact. Keller desired that it should be read aloud. He at once pronounced it to be faulty. The question was eagerly asked, “How so?" Taking up the patent, Keller read it aloud - George, &c. &c., King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland'-and then, turning to Lord Avonmore, said, "Don't you see, my lord, the consideration comes too soon ?' Volumes might be filled with the shrewd and caustic sayings of old Keller.

“ The Munster circuit was always famous for its wits. One of the first of those was a contemporary of Curran—' pleasant Ned Lysaght.' If Ben Jodson had known him, he would have had a fine subject for gathering humours.' Lysaght might have given the poet a stock subject for seizing all the points of Irish character in its essential features. A man of more varied talents than Lysaght it was impossible to meet. In his personal character he was a thorough Irishman-brave, brilliant, witty, eloquent, and devil-may-care. He was a capital song-writer; his poems are full of that indescribable animal buoyancy which is a chief essence of Irish genius. He had a flow of exuberant spirits; his gaiety was like the laugh of matchless Mrs. Nisbett, an infallible cure for the blue devils, a potent destroyer of spleen. His famous and universally popular •Sprig of Shillelagh,' his · Kate of Garnavilla,' and other still popular songs, will always preserve his name. We have but one good Volunteer Song,' says Thomas Davis ; it was written by Lysaght, after that illustrious militia was dissolved.' –(Essay on Irish Songs). That song is in praise of Grattan, the man who led the van of Irish Volunteers. It is spirited, and, what is not always true of complimentary poetry, its sentiments are true. The history of his times, and the private records of his nobly-spent life, confirm the truth of the following stanza :

• He sows no vile dissensions; good-will to all he bears;
He knows no vain pretensions, no paltry fears or cares;
To Erin's and to Britain's sons his name his worth endears,
They love the man who led the van of Irish volunteers.'”

Mr. Madden's account of Irish pulpit eloquence is equally agreeable. His anecdotes of that great Protestant orator, the Rev. Thomas St. Lawrence, are exquisite in their way. This is one of them :

“ On a particular occasion, Mr. St. Lawrence rode in froin his country parish, to preach a sermon at Christ Church in Cork. Many went to hear him, expecting a display. He had chanced, while riding in, to have met with a poor widow, who was begging for a wretched child. The case was one of real distress, and at once enlisted the synipathies of St. Lawrence, who was sensitive to a fault; for he was a man who would at any time have taken the coat from his back, if he had no other means of relieving the wretched. St. Lawrence was struck with the details of the widow's story, and resolved to introduce it into the sermon which he was to preach on that day. The poor woman had so delayed his progress, that he was nearly late for the service, and he had to gallop to be in time. Long after prayers had commenced, he entered church, spattered up to his shoulders, his boots encrusted with mud. Hastily casting off his riding-coat, he put on the clerical gown, and ascended the pulpit. He looked around the church, and beheld a crowded congregation; he recog. nised many provincial fashionables, and saw that several of the great vulgar' had come to hear him, as to a playhouse. The galleries around rustled with silk and satin, and his quick eye at once discerned many flaunting flirts and scandal-loving dowagers, and over-dressed old maids, addicted to finery, smalltalk, and card-playing. Nor were there wanting blooming maidens--the flower of the far-famed beauties of Cork-blumbing, as they by chance met the gaze of admirers, who came to church for other purposes than prayer. In truth, a fashionable charity.preacher collects a congregation of a scry motley kind, aniinated with a singular variety of ideas. Sealed in his pulpit, Si. Lawrence glanced around the crowd; his sense of the ridiculous stroke with his feelings of religion, and he arore to preach, ball uncertain whether he should pursue the topics he had intended to descant on. Tie began with a part of what he had originally intended to say, but soon breaking from his potes, be launched into a commentary on the crowd before him, and dissected the aggregate character of the congregation with searching minuteness. From a picture powerfully drawn of the vanities of life, be turned to the case of the widow and orphan, whom he had met that day, and told their story with the pathos of a Sterne. Few were the dry eses, as St. Lawrence harrowed th. hi arts of his hearers with the tale of suffering. In the gallery, close to the pulpit, several ladies robbed audibly, and many sought in vain to mitte the signs of their emotions. The fashionables lost their well-bred retenue, and were surprised into feeling. St. Lawrence sud enly turned rund, and addressing himself directly to the gallery, into which the fine ladies were crowded, burst forth - Ah! you weep; give me but one item of that frippery truth which you disfigure yourselers into the fashion, and I will hush the wail of that widow, and dry up the tears of that orphan !**

The author thus concludes his recollections of St. Lawrence :-* St. Lawrence had no ambition; he cared not to labour for fame, and with every requsite for shining as an intellectual divie, be passed his life in deliberate obscuniy. His , nivate character was that of a man amiable to a fault. With the pre-antry of bis neighbourhood he was a great favourite ; whenever he went tisbing, many of the boys' would seck bis society, for the privilege of conversing with Master Tom,' as he was called. He was a man of great humour and drollery, and the dialogues which on these occasions took place between St. Lawrence and his rustic (otupanions, were incomparable in their way. He was idolized by many of his poor (athola i ciuhtours; and what greater tribute could be paid to the character of this aminole man, than the fact that he was paid all his tithes during the anti-tithe movement !**

One memorable event in the anecdote history of Ireland, “Sir John Purcell and the Robbers," is here better detailed than we ever saw it before. We therefore make no apology for extracting the narrative :

" As vou travel frotn (harleville to Kanturk, in the north-western portion of the East Riding of the county of Cork, a house is pointed out to you, called Hightort. It sta ds at a considerable elevation orer the road., and is not illnamed. There dwelt Sir John Purcell; and within the walls of that house was off: red one of the bravest and most successful defences that one man ever inade against a nutnerous assaulting parts.

in the year 11, Jir. Purcell lived at llighfort. He was a country gentleman, of respectable family, and widely spread connexions. He was a thrift, cautious man; censured by some of his friends as being rather too penurious in his habits. His memory was very remarkable. On a fair-day at Kanturk, he would take rent from between eventy and righty tenants, and make no rote

hatever in a book. le used to pace all the n.onies together in a canvas bag, and no charge could ever be brought against him for incorrect accounts. He gave brief me.r.orandums to the various tenants, but never wrote on a stamped receipt, although he always charged the landlord for the stamps. He had been for some years agent to the Earl of Igmont, and managed the Percival estates in (or shire. In all pubic matter he was zealous, and was very vigorous in #pporting the law. No one, from looking at his countenance, would bare taken hum to be a man of such driet.mbation. The expression of bis face WLA

benevolent; but the highest courage is often found in those whose general character is apparently most remarkable for its mildness.

“The household of Sir John Purcell consisted of himself, his daughter-in law, and grandchild, a man-servant, and two maids. The place in which he lived was lonesome and unprotected, but he feared nothing. He had not done any. thing to make him hateful to the peasantry. On the 11th of March, 1811, he came home one night, tired after country business and a long ride, and took a late supper in his bed-room. About one o'clock, and after he had retired to rest, he heard some noise outside the window of his parlour. He slept on the ground floor, in a room adjoining the parlour. There was a door from ore room into the other, but this bad been found inconvenient, and there being another passage from the bed-chamber more convenient, it was nailed up, and some of the furniture of the parlour placed against it. Shortly after Sir John heard the noise in the front of his house, the windows of the parlour were pushed in, and the noise occasioned by the feet of the robbers, in leaping from the windows into the parlour, appeared to denote a gang not less than fourteen in number, as it struck him. He immediately got out of bed, and the first determination he took being to make resistance, it was with no small mortification that he reflected upon the unarmed condition in which he was placed, being destitute of a single weapon of the ordinary sort. In this state he spent little time in deliberation, as it almost immediately occurred to him, that having supped in the bedchamber on that night, a knife had been left behind by accident, and he instantly proceeded to grope in the dark for this weapon, which he happily found before the door leading into the parlour from the bed-room had been broken open.

“ While he s:ood in calm but resolute expectation that the progress of the robbers would soon lead them to his bed-chamber, he heard the furniture, which had been placed against the nailed-up door, expeditiously displaced, and immediately after this, the door was burst open. The moon shone with great brightness, and when this door was thrown open, the light streaming through three large windows into the parlour, afforded Sir John a view that might have made an intrepid spirit not a little apprehensive. His bed-room was darkened to excess, in consequence of the shutters of the windows, as well as the curtains, being closed; and thus while he stood enveloped in darkness, he saw standing before him, by the brightness of the moonlight, a body of armed men, and of those who were in the van of the gang, he observed that a few had their faces blackened.

“Armed only with this case-knife, and aided only by a dauntless heart, be took his station by the side of the door, and, in a moinent after, one of the gang entered from the parlour into the dark room. Instantly, on advancing, Sir John plunged the knife at him, the point of which entered the right arm, and in a line with the nipple, and so home was the blow sent, that the knife passed into the body, until Sir John stopped its further progress. Upon receiving this thrust the robber reeled back into the parlour, crying out blasphemously that he was killed; and shortly after, another advanced, who was received in a similar manner, and who also staggered back into the parlour, crying out that he was wounded. A voice from the outside gave orders to fire into the dark room, upon which a man stepped forward with a short gun in his hand, which had the butt broken off at the small, and had a piece of cord tied round the barrel and stock, near the swell. As this fellow stood in the act to fire, Sir John had the amazing coolness to look at his intended murderer, and without betraying any audible emotion whatever that might point out the spot which he was standing in, he calmly calculated his own safety from the shot which was preparing for him. He saw that the contents of the piece were likely to pass close to his breast, without menacing him with at least any serious wound; and in this state of firm and manly expectation, he stood, without flinching, until the piece was fired, and its contents harmlessly lodged in the wall. It was loaded with a brace of bullets and three slugs. As soon as the robber fired, Sir John made a pass at him with the knife, and wounded hiin in the arm, wbich he re

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