circumstances the plant becomes very succulent, its stems grow to a great length, no vegetable fibre can be detected in its substance, its colour is blanched, it possesses no bitter or aromatic properties, and it does not develope flowers. Potatoes growing in a dark cellar, or celery protected from the light, by earth heaped around its foot-stalks, will afford familiar examples. These considerations lead us to the belief that out of the ascending sap is formed the fleshy part of vegetables, which, by its production, increases the length of the stem, and the thickness of the roots. In our next article we will describe the most remarkable properties of the ascending sap. T. A. MEN OF GENIUS. We think HAVE any of our friends any persons of this description amongst the young men of their acquaintance? they must, for they are very plentiful: they are to be found every where. We ourselves know somewhere about half a dozen of one kind or other; and it is of these different kinds we purpose here to speak. : Before doing this, however, let us remark, that the sort of geniuses to whom we allude are to be found amongst young men only for, generally speaking, it is only while men are young that they are subject to the delusion of supposing themselves geniuses. As they advance in life, they begin to suspect that there has been some mistake in the matter. A few years more, and they become convinced of it; when, wisely dropping all pretensions to the character, they step quietly back into the ranks amongst their fellows. It is true that some old fools, especially amongst the poetical tribe, continue to cling to the unhappy belief of their being gifted, and go on writing maudlin rhymes to the end of the chapter. But most men become in time alive to the real state of the case, and, willingly resigning the gift of genius, are thankful to find that they have common sense. While under the hallucination alluded to, however, the sort of geniuses of whom we speak are rather amusing subjects of study. We have known a great many of them in our day, and have found that they resolve themselves into distinct classes, such classes being formed by certain differing characteristics and pretensions: the individuals of each class, however, presenting in their peculiarities a striking resemblance to each other. First comes, at any rate in such order shall we take them, the Poetical Genius. This is a poor, bleached-faced thing, with a simpering, self-satisfied countenance, an effeminate air and manner, and of insufferable conceit. It is an insolent creature too, for it treats you and everybody with the most profound contempt. Its calm, confident smirk, and lack-a-daisical look, are amongst the most provoking things in nature, and always inspire you with a violent desire to kick it out of your presence. The poetical genius is by far the most useless of the whole tribe of geniuses. Wrapt up in his misty, maudlin dreams of cerulean heavens, and daisied meads, and purling rills, he is totally unfitted for the ordinary business of ordinary life. He is besides not unfrequently a little deranged in his upper works. Having heard, or having of himself imbibed a notion, that madness and genius are allied, he, although of perfectly sane mind originally, takes to raving, to staring wildly about him, and to practising various of the other extravagances of insanity, till he becomes actually half cracked: some of them indeed get stark staring mad. The poetical genius is addicted to tea parties, and to writing in albums. He also much affects the society of tabbies: for of all his admirers he finds them the most liberal and indiscriminate in their praise. These good creatures drench him with weak tea, and he in return doses them with still weaker poetry. This is the class that supplies the newspapers with the article just named, at least so named by courtesy, figuring therein as J. F.'s and P. D.'s, &c. The next class of geniuses which we propose to consider, is the Oratorical Genius. This person labours under the delusion of supposing himself a second Demosthenes. He is a great frequenter of debating societies, and other similar associations, where he makes long, prosy, unintelligible speechesspeeches full of mist and moonshine, in which no human being can discover the slightest trace of drift or purpose. These frothy, bubble-and-squeak orations the young gentleman prepares at home, fitting himself and them for public exhibition by raving and ranting them over in his own room, to the great annoyance of his neighbours. These speeches, when they do not produce nausea, which they are very apt to do, or at least a disagreeable feeling of squeamishness, are powerful soporifics, and, possessing this quality, would be rather grateful than otherwise, if one were in bed when within hearing of them; but unhappily this pleasant effect is neutralised by the roaring and stamping that accompanies their delivery: so that this sort of orator is in reality a positive nuisance. The oratorical genius is nearly, if not every bit, as conceited as the poetical genius. He has the same provoking, self-satisfied simper, and is in other respects a still greater bore, for his forensic habits and practices, without furnishing him with a single additional idea, have given him an unhappy fluency of speech, which he himself mistakes for eloquence, and with which he mercilessly inundates every one whom he can get beneath the spout of his oratorical pump. Every thing he says to you is said in set phrase in the stiff, formal, affected language of the debating society. His remarks on the most ordinary subjects are all regular built speechesdull, long-winded, prosy things, smelling strong of the forum. We know a speculative or debating society man the moment he opens his mouth. We know him by his studied, prolix phraseology, and much, much do we dread him, for of all earthly bores he is the most intolerable. To be obliged to listen to his maudlin philosophy and misty metaphysics-for they are all to a man philosophers or metaphysicians-is about one of the most distressing inflictions we know. | The next genius on our list is the Universal Genius, perhaps the most amusing of the whole fraternity. This gentleman, although perfectly satisfied that he is a genius, and a very great genius too, does not know himself precisely in what he excels. He has no definite ideas on the subject, and in this respect is rather at a loss. But he enjoys a delightful consciousness of a capacity that would enable him to surpass in anything to which he might choose to devote himself, and that in fact he does surpass in everything. His pretensions therefore rest on a very broad basis, and embrace all human attainments. He is in short a universal genius. This gentleman is very apt to assume peculiarities in dress and exterior appearance, to wear odd things in an odd way, and to sport a few eccentricities because he has heard or imagines that all geniuses are eccentric. These are common and favourite expedients with the would-be genius, who moreover frequently adds dissipation to his distinguishing characteristics, it being a pretty general notion that genius is drunken, and of a wild and irregular life. To make out this character, then, the universal genius takes to breaking the public lamps, wrenching off bell-handles, kicking up rows in taverns with the waiters and others, and on the streets with the police; gets his head broken and his eyes blackened; keeps late hours, and goes home drunk every night; and thus becomes a genius of the first order. This sort of genius, we have observed, is much addicted to wearing odd sorts of head-dresses, fantastic caps all befurred and betasselled, and moreover greatly affects the bare throat, or wearing only an apology for a neckcloth, with shirt-collar turned down-in this aiming at a fine wild brigandish sort of look and appearance, much coveted by geniuses of a certain order. Nature, however, does not always favour those ambitious attempts at the bold and romantic, for we often find them associated with snub noses, lantern jaws, and the most stupid and unmeaning countenances, that express anything but a consonance of character with pretension. We have known geniuses of this kind-the bare-necked and turned-down-colÏared—set up for romantic desperadoes on the strength of a hairy throat and a pair of bushy whiskers. The great class of universal geniuses now under consideration may, on close inspection, be found to subdivide itself into several minor classes, including the Sublime Genius, the Solemn Genius, and another tribe which has hitherto been, we rather think, without a name, but which we shall take the liberty of calling the Dirty Genius. This is a curious species of the race. The dirty genius delights in unkempt locks. which he not only allows but encourages to hang about his face and behind on his coat collar, in large tangled filthy looking masses. He delighteth also in an unwashed face, in dirty linen, and in a general slovenliness and shabbiness of apparel. The pretensions of this genius are very high; for he affects to be superior to all the common observances of civilized life; its courtesies and amenities he holds in the most sovereign contempt; despises soap and water, and rises proudly above white stockings and clean shirts. There are several other descriptions of geniuses, on each of which we could say an edifying word or two, but reserve them for another occasion. C. cess. it. . Napoleon AFTER DEATH.-Death had marvellously improved the appearance of Napoleon, and every one exclaimed, when the face was exposed, "How very beautiful!" for all present acknowledged that they had never seen a finer or more regular and placid countenance. The beauty of the delicate Italian features was of the highest kind; whilst the exquisite serenity of their expression was in the most striking contrast with the recollections of his great actions, impetuous character, and turbulent life. As during his eventful career there was much of the mysterious and inscrutable about him, even after death Napoleon's inanimate remains continued a puzzle and a mystery: for, notwithstanding his great sufferings and the usual emaciating effects of the malady that destroyed him, the body was found enormously fat. The frame was as unsusceptible of material disintegration as the spirit was indomitable. Over the sternum, or breast bone, which is generally only thinly covered, there was a coat of fat an inch and a half thick; and on the abdomen two inches, whilst the omentum, kidneys, and heart, were loaded with fat. The last organ was remarkably small, and the muscle flabby, in contradiction to our ideal associations, and in proof of the seeming paradox, that it is possible to be a very great man with a very little heart. Much anxiety was felt at the time to ascertain the disease of which Bonaparte died. Mr O'Meara had represented the liver as the faulty organ, and this has been echoed by Antommarchi; though, as we have said before, the illustrious sufferer himself, with better judgment, referred the mischief to the stomach, as its seat and source; and he was perfectly right, as the event proved. This organ was found most extensively disorganised: in fact, it was ulcerated all over like a honeycomb. The focus of the disease was exactly the spot pointed out by Napoleon the pylorus, or lower end where the intestines begin. At this place I put my finger into a hole, made by an ulcer, that had eaten through the stomach, but which all, the liver was free from disease, and every organ sound exwas stopped by a slight adhesion to the adjacent liver. After cept the stomach. Several peculiarities were noticed about the body. He appeared at some time to have had an issue open in the arm, and there was a slight mark, like a wound, in the leg, but which might have been caused by a suppurating boil. The chest was not ample, and there was something of feminine delicacy in the roundness of the arms and the smalltion to the body, with a fine, massy, capacious forehead. In ness of the hands and feet. The head was large in proporthe gratification of phrenologists. The diseased state of the respects there were no remarkable developements for stomach was palpably and demonstrably the cause of death; and how Napoleon could have existed for any time with such an organ, was wonderful, for there was not an inch of it sound. ANECDOTE OF THE LATE MR BRADBURY, THE CELEBRATED CLOWN. In the year 1814, when Mr Bradbury was in the heyday of his popularity, he lodged in Portsmouth, in the well-known and elegant establishment called the Crown Hotel, then kept by a Mr Hanna, where a number of the fashionable and gay daily resorted. It happened at a dinner party where a considerable number were present, Mr Bradbury introduced a most splendid gold snuff-box which had been shortly before presented to him by the members of a convivial club to which he belonged, in token of their estimation of him as a convivial friend and of his talents in his line of acting, which qualities he was known to possess in a very high degree. This box he highly prized, and it was sent round the table and admired by all. After some time, however, it was found not to be forthcoming. Every one stared -no one had it all had seen it the moment before, but could not tell what could possibly have become of it. In vain the owner entreated every gentleman to search his pocket, as some one might have taken it inadvertently. All tried without sucAfter remaining an hour in the greatest anxiety, in which the company seemed to participate, they separated. Mr Bradbury consulted some of his friends on this very unpleasant business, who advised him to send for a Bow Street officer, who might from his habits be able to suggest some means of detection. This advice was instantly followed, and Rivett, the well-known peace-officer, was sent for. The same company met next day at dinner, and the most anxious inquiries were made by all for the box, but still no account of Amongst the company was a Captain C, who was aide-de-camp to General Leake, who was then going out to India, and waiting for the first fair wind. This gentleman was the first to quit the room after dinner, and by a preconcerted arrangement was followed into his bedroom by Rivett, who was waiting outside. Mr Bradbury also followed; and it was immediately communicated to Captain C. - that he must submit to a search, a warrant for that purpose having been obtained against every gentleman in the room. was instantly submitted to in the most cheerful manner by Captain C, who invited them to make it, and expressed great satisfaction at such a course as the only means of detection; but he could not bring himself to believe that any gentleman could be guilty of so infamous an act except through inadvertence. After his trunk and dressing-case had been-Biography of a Surgeon. searched, he hoped they were perfectly satisfied of his integrity in the business. Rivett, however, observed that as far as the search was made, he was satisfied that all was correct, and nothing now remained but to search his person. These words were scarcely uttered when he was observed to change colour and stagger; a smothered groan escaped him, and he fell back in a chair; and in a state scarcely conscious of existence, the box was taken from his pocket. He remained in this state of stupor for a few moments, whilst Bradbury and the peace-officer stood looking at each other, scarcely believing the evidence of their senses; and recovering himself a little, he stood up, gazed wildly at one and then at the other, and gasping with the intensity of his feelings, he rushed to his dressing-table, and like lightning drew a razor across his throat. Surgical assistance being on the spot, the wound was pronounced not to be mortal. The effect of the scene the look of the man-his maniac look, and the act of desperation accompanying it his rank in life, and every circumstance connected with it, had such an effect on poor Bradbury that he lost his reason, and did not recover it for a year afterwards. The matter could not be kept a secret. The truly unfortunate and miserable Captain C of course lost his commission, and it is not known what afterwards became of him. There was, however, no prosecution. The punishment was sufficient: This other THE MARCH OF MAGNILOQUENCE-IS" onward" like the prosperity of your two-and-sixpenny republic in Central America. We [the Americans] are becoming so great, that it is very much to be feared we shall lose all our standards of commerce. Having nothing little, we don't see how the deuce we shall be able to express a diminutive. Our miniature will all become magnitude, and it is difficult for us to see our way clearly in the world. He remained in clearly in the world. Our insects will grow into elephants, and for aught we see we shall have to speak of the gnat as a large monster, and the honey-bee have to be described as a beast of prey. "I does business in this store," was the remark made the other day by a dealer in crab apples, as he crawled out of a refuse molasses-hogshead with his peck basket of merchandise. The skippers of the Long Island clamboats all call each other captains; and we lately heard a city scavenger complaining to another gentleman in the same line of business, that his town house had been endangered during a recent conflagration: a mischievous cracker-boy had thrown one of his flaming missiles into the segment of a cellar occupied by the complainant and his family. Mr Mark Anthony Potts told us the other day that he had made arrangements for extending his business. He has taken the superintendence of two coal carts, having heretofore shovelled for but one. Nobody thinks nowadays of calling the conductor of a mud cart on the railroad by any less dignified title than an agent. The vender of apple-jack on a dilapidated cellar-door upon the North river, is a merchant; and the fourth-rate victualler along the wharves, who manages to rent half of a brokendown cobbler's stall, keeps a public house! W. E. ELEVATION OF THE MIND.-Lofty elevation of mind does not make one indifferent to the wants and sufferings of those who are below him: on the contrary, as the rarified air of mountains makes distant objects seem nearer, so are all his fellow-beings brought nearer to the heart of him who looks upon them from the height of his wisdom. Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, No. 6, An ancient baronial castle, in good preservation and still inhabited by the lineal descendant of its original founder, is a rare object to find in Ireland; and the causes which have led to this circumstance are too obvious to require an explanation. In Malahide Castle we have, however, a highly interesting example of this kind; for though in its present state it owes much of its imposing effect to modern restorations and improvements, it still retains a considerable portion of very ancient date, and most probably even some parts of the original castle erected in the reign of King Henry II. Considered in this way, Malahide Castle is without a rival in interest, not only in our metropolitan county, but also perhaps within the boundary of the old English pale. The Castle of Malahide is placed on a gently elevated situation on a limestone rock near the village or town from which it derives its name, and of which, with its picturesque bay, it commands a beautiful prospect. In its general form it is quadrangular and nearly approaching to a square, flanked on its south or principal front by circular towers, with a fine 'Gothic" entrance porch in the centre. Its proportions are of considerable grandeur, and its picturesqueness is greatly heightened by the masses of luxuriant ivy which mantle its walls. For much of its present architectural magnificence it is however indebted to its present proprietor, and his father the late Colonel Talbot. The structure, as it appeared in the commencement of the last century, was of contracted dimensions, and had wholly lost its original castellated charac. ter, though its ancient moat still remained. This moat is however now filled up, and its sloping surface is converted into a green-sward, and planted with Italian cypresses and other evergreens. Interesting, however, as this ancient mansion is in its exterior appearance, it is perhaps still more so in its interior features. Its spacious hall, roofed with timber-work of oak, is of considerable antiquity; but its attraction is eclipsed by another apartment of equal age and vastly superior beauty, with which indeed in its way there is nothing, as far as we know, to be compared in Ireland. This unique apartment is wainscotted throughout with oak elaborately carved, in compartments, with subjects derived from scripture history, and though Gothic in their general character, some of them are executed with considerable skill; while the chimney-piece, which exhibits in its central division figures of the Virgin and Child, is carved with a singular degree of elegance and beauty. The whole is richly varnished, and from the blackness of tint which the wood has acquired from time, the apartment, as Mr Brewer well observes, assumes the resemblance of one vast cabinet of ebony. The other apartments, of which there are ten on each floor, are of inferior architectural pretensions, though some of them are of lofty and spacious proportions. But they are not without attractions of a high order, being enriched with some costly specimens of porcelain, and their walls covered with the more valuable ornaments of a collection of original por ler; Richard Talbot, styled Lord of Malahide, and many of their kindred, together with sixty of their English followers, were slain in a pitched battle at Balbriggan [Ballybragan] in this neighbourhood, by the Anglo-Norman faction of the De Verdons, De Gernons, and Savages: the cause of animosity being the election of the earl to the palatinate dignity of Louth, the county of the latter party. At a later period the Talbots of Malahide had a narrow total loss of their rank and possessions. Involved of necessity by their political and religious principles in the troubles of the middle of the seventeenth century, they could hardly have escaped the persecution of the party assuming government in the name of the parliament. John Talbot of Malahide having been indicted and outlawed for acting in the Irish rebellion, his castle, with five hundred acres of arable land, was granted by lease, dated 21st December 1653, for seven years, to the regicide Miles Corbet, who resided here for several years after, till, being himself outlawed in turn at the period of the Restoration, he took shipping from its port for the continent. More fortunate, however, than the representatives of most other families implicated in the events of this unhappy period, Mr Talbot was by the act of explanation in 1665 restored to all his lands and estates in the county of Dublin, as he had held the same in 1641, only subject to quit rents. It is said that during the occupation of Malahide by Corbet it became for a short time the abode of Cromwell himself; but this statement, we believe, only rests on popular tradition—a chronicler which has been too fond of making similar statements respecting Irish castles generally, to merit attention and belief. traits and paintings by the old masters. Among the former the most remarkable are portraits of Charles I. and Queen Henrietta Maria, by Vandyke; James II. and his queen, Anne Hyde, by Sir Peter Lely; Queen Anne, by Sir Godfrey Knelthe Duchess of Portsmouth, mistress to Charles II.; the first Duke of Richmond (son of the above duchess) when a child; Richard Talbot, the celebrated Duke of Tirconnel, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, general and minister to James II., by Sir Peter Lely; the Ladies Catherine and Charlotte Tal-escape from a calamity nearly as bad as death itself the bot, daughters of the duke, by Sir P. Lely; with many other portraits of illustrious members of the Talbot family. The portraits of the Duchess of Portsmouth and her son were presented by herself to Mrs Wogan of Rathcoffy, from whom they were inherited by Colonel Talbot. Among the pictures of more general interest, the most distinguished is a small altar piece divided into compartments, and representing the Nativity, Adoration, and Circumcision. This most valuable and interesting picture is the work of Albert Durer, and is said to have belonged to the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots. It was purchased by Charles II. for £2000, and was given by him to the Duchess of Portsmouth, who presented it to the grandmother of the late Col. Talbot. As already observed, the noble family of Talbot have been seated in their present locality for a period of nearly seven hundred years! According to the pedigree of the family, drawn up with every appearance of accuracy by Sir William Betham, Richard Talbot, the second son of Richard Talbot, Lord of Eccleswell and Linton, in Herefordshire, who was living in 1153, having accompanied King Henry II. into Ireland, obtained from that monarch the lordship of Malahide, being part of the two cantreds of Leinster, in the neighbourhood of Dublin, which King Henry had reserved, when he granted the rest of the province to Richard Earl of Strongbow, to be held as a noble fief of the crown of England. It is at all events certain, as appears from the chartulary or register of Mary's Abbey, now in the British Museum, that this Richard Talbot granted to St Mary's Abbey in Dublin certain lands called Venenbristen, which lie between Croscurry and the lands of Hamon Mac Kirkyl, in pure and perpetual alms, that the monks there might pray for the health of his soul and that of his brother Roger, and their ancestors; and that he also leased certain lands in Malahide and Portmarnoc to the monks of the same abbey. From this Richard Talbot the present Lord Talbot de Malahide descends in the twentieth generation, and in the twenty-fourth from Richard Talbot, a Norman baron who held Hereford Castle in the time of the Conqueror. The noble Earls of Shrewsbury and Talbot are of the same stock, but descend from Gilbert, the elder brother of Richard, who was Lord of Eccleswell and Linton, and was living in 1190. There can be no question, therefore, of the noble origin of the Talbots de Malahide, nor can their title be considered as a mushroom one, though only conferred upon the mother of the present lord; for Sir William Betham shows that his ancestor, Thomas Talbot, knight and lord of Malahide, who had livery of his estate in 1349, was summoned by the sheriff of Dublin to the Magnum Concilium, or Great Council, held in Dublin in 1372, 46 Edward III., and again to the Magnum Concilium held on Saturday, in the vigils of the holy Trinity,. 48 Edward III., 1374, by special writ directed to himself by the name of "Thome Talbot, Militis." He was also summoned by writ to the Parliament of Ireland in the same year. If therefore it could be ascertained that this Thomas Talbot actually took his seat under that writ, it would be clear that his lineal heir-male and heir-general, the present baron, has a just claim to the honours and dignity which he has so recently acquired. The manor of Malahide was created by charter as early as the reign of King Henry II., and its privileges were confirmed and enlarged by King Edward IV. in 1475. This, we believe, still remains in the possession of the chief of the family, but various other extensive possessions of his ancestors passed to junior branches of his house, and have been long alienated from his family. a Among the most memorable circumstances of general interest connected with the history of this castle and its possessors, should be mentioned what Mr Brewer properly calls lamentable instance of the ferocity with which quarrels of party rivalry were conducted in ages during which the internal polity of Ireland was injuriously neglected by the supreme head of government :-On Whitsun-eve, in the year 1329, as is recorded by Ware, John de Birmingham, Earl of Louth, Our limits will not permit us on the present occasion to enter on any description of the picturesque ruins of the ancient chapel and tombs situated within the demesne, and immediately adjacent to the castle; and we shall only add in conclusion, that the grounds of the demesne, though of limited extent, and but little varied in elevation, are judiciously laid out, and present among its plantations many scenes of dignified character and beauty. SAINT BRIDGET'S SHAWL, P. BY T. E., AUTHOR OF "DARBY DOYLE," ETC. AMONGST the many extraordinary characters with which this country abounds, such as fools, madmen, onshochs, omadhauns, hair-brains, crack-brains, and naturals, I have particularly taken notice of one. His character is rather singular. He begs about Newbridge, county of Kildare: he will accept of any thing offered him, except money-that he scornfully refuses; which fulfils the old adage, “None but a fool will refuse money." His habitation is the ruins of an old fort or ancient stronghold called Walshe's Castle, on the road to Kilcullen, near Arthgarvan, and within a few yards of the river Liffey, far away from any dwelling. There he lies on a bundle of straw, with no other covering save the clothes he wears all day. Many is the evening I have seen this poor crazy creature plod along the road to his desolate lodging. There is another stamp of singularity on his character: his name is Pat Mowlds, but who dare attempt to call him Pat? It must be Mr Mowlds, or he will not only be offended himself, but will surely offend those who neglect this respect. In general he is of a downcast, melancholy disposition, boasts of being very learned, is much delighted when any one gives him a ballad or old newspaper. Sometimes he gets into a very good humour, and will relate many anecdotes in a droll style. About two years ago, as I happened to be sauntering along the border of the Curragh, I overtook this solitary being. "A fine morning, Mr Mowlds," was my address. Yes, sur, thank God, a very fine morning; shure iv we don't have fine weather in July, when will we have it?" "What a great space of ground this is to lie waste-what quantity of provisions it would produce-what a number of people it would employ and feed!” said I. a Shure we want "Oh, that's very thrue, sur; but was it all sown in pittaties, what would become ov the poor sheep? mutton as well as pittaties-besides, all the devarshin we have every year. Why, thin, maybe ye have e'er an ould newspaper or ballit about ye?" I said I had not, but a couple of Penny Journals should be at his service which I had in my pocket. Och, any thing at all that will keep a body amused, though I have got a great many of them; but among them all I don't see any picther or any account of the round tower furninst ye; nor any account ov the fire Saint Bridget kept in night an' day for six hundred years; nor any thing about the raison why it was put out; nor any thing about how Saint Bridget came by this piece ov ground; nor any thing about the ould Earl ov Kildare, who rides round the Curragh every seventh year with silver spurs and silver reins to his horse God bless ye, sur, have ye e'er a bit of tobacky?-there's not a word about this poor counthry at all." My senses were now driven to anxiety-I gave him some tobacco. He then resumed: "Och, an' faix it's myself that can tell all about those things. Shure my grandfather was brother to one of the ould anshint bards who left him all his books, and he left them to my mother, who left them to me. "Well, Mr Mowlds," I said, "you must have a perfect knowledge of those things-let us hear something of their contents. Why, thin, shure, sur, I can't do less. Now, you see, sur, it's my fashion like the priests and ministhers goin' to praich: they must give a bit ov a text out ov some larned book, and that's the way with me. So here goes-mind the words: "The seventeenth ov March, on King Dermot's great table, Where ninety-nine beeves were all roast at a time, We dhrank to the memory, while we wor able, Ov Pathrick, the saint ov our nation; And gaily wor dhrinkin', roarin', shoutin', There was Cathleen so fair, an' Elleen so rare! An' flauntin' Queen Dorah! On Pathrick's day in the mornin'. County Kildare an' the sky over it! He thus ended with a kick up of his heel which nearly touched the nape of his neck, and a flourish of his stick at the same time. Then turning to me he said, "I I am not going to tell you one word about the fire-I am going to tell you how Saint Bridget got all this ground. Bad luck to Black Noll (a name given to Cromwell) with his crew ov dirty Sasanachs that tore down the church; and if they could have got on the tower, that would be down also. No matther-every dog will have his day. Sit down on this hill till we have a shaugh ov the dhudheen. In this hill lie buried all the bones ov the poor fellows that Gefferds killed the time ov the throuble, peace an' rest to their souls!" "But to the story, Mr Mowlds," I said, as I watched him with impatience while he readied his pipe with a large pin. "Well, sur, here goes. Bad luck to this touch, it's damp: the rain blew into my pocket t'other night an' wetted it-ha, I have it. Now, sur, you persave by the words ov my text that a great feast was kept up every year at the palace of Castledermot on Saint Pathrick's day. Nothing was to be seen for many days before but slaughtering ov bullocks, skiverin' ov pullets, rowlin' in ov barrels, an' invitin' all the quolity about the counthry; nor did the roolocks and spalpeens lag behind -they never waited to be axt; all came to lind a frindly hand at the feast; nor war the kings ov those days above raisin' the ax to slay a bullock. King O'Dermot was one ov those slaughtherin' kings who wouldn't cringe at the blood ov any baste. 'Twas on one ov those festival times that he sallied out with his ax in his hand to show his dexterity in the killin' way. The butchers brought him the cattle one afther another, an' he laid them down as fast as they could be dhrained ov their blood. Afther layin' down ninety-nine, the last ov a hundred was brought to him. Just as he riz the ax to give it the clout, the ox with a sudden chuck drew the stake from the ground, and away with him over hill an' dale, with the swingin' block an' a hundred spalpeens at his heels. At last he made into the river just below Kilcullen, when a little gossoon thought to get on his back; but his tail bein' very long, gave a twitch an' hitched itself in a black knot round the chap's body, and so towed him across the river. Away with him then across the Curragh, ever till he came to where Saint Bridget lived. He roared at the gate as if for marcy. Saint Bridget was just at the door when she saw the ox with his horns thrust through the bars. · Arrah, what ails ye, poor baste?' sez she, not seein' the boy at his tail. 'Och,' sez the boy, makin' answer for the ox, 'for marcy I'm the last ov a hundred that was goin' to sake let me in. but be kilt by King O'Dermot for his great feast to-morrow ; he little knows who I am. Begor, when she heard the ox spake, she was startled; but rousin' herself, she said, Why, thin, it 'ud be fitther for King O'Dermot to give me a few ov yees, than be feedin' Budhavore: it's well you come itself.' Ah, but, shure, you won't kill me, Biddy Darlin,' sez the chap, takin' the hint, as it was nigh dark, and Biddy couldn't see him with her odd eye; for you must know, sur, that she was such a purty girl when she was young, that the boys used to be runnin' in dozens afther her. At last she prayed for So you see, somethin' to keep them from tormenting her. sur, she was seized with the small-pox at one side ov her face, which blinded up her eye, and left the whole side ov her face in furrows, while the other side remained as beautiful as ever In troth you needn't fear me killin' ye,' sez she; 'but where can I keep ye?' ' Och,' says the arch wag, 'shure when I grow up to be a bull I can guard yer ground.' 'Ground, in yeagh,' sez the saint; 'shure I havn't as much as would sow a ridge ov pittaties, barrin' the taste I have for the girls to walk on. And did you ax the king for nane?' sed the supposed ox. 'In troth I did, but the ould budhoch refused me twice't.' 'Well, Biddy honey,' sez the chap, 'the third offer's lucky. Go to-morrow, when he's at dinner, and you may come at the soft side ov him. But won't you give some refreshment to this poor boy that I picked up on the road? I fear he is dead or smothered hanging at my tail.' Well, to be sure, the chap hung his head (moryeah) when he sed this. With all harts,' sez they. • Slack 'Come here, Norah,' sez she to the sarvint maid. down the fire,' sez she, and be sure you have the kittle on. I couldn't go to bed without my tay, was it ever so late.' So afther givin' her ordhers off they started. Well, behould ye, sur, when she got within two miles ov the palace, word was brought to the king that St Bridget and above five hundred nuns were on the road, comin' to dine with him. "O tundheranounthers,' roared the king, 'what'll I do for their dinner? Why the dhoul didn't she come an hour sooner, or sent word yestherday? Such a time for visithers! Do ye hear me, Paudeen Roorke?' sez he, turnin' to his chief butler: 'run afther Rory Condaugh, and ax him did he give away the two hind quarthers that I sed was a little rare.' 'Och, yer honor,' sed Paudeen Roorke, 'shure he gev them to a parcel of boccochs at the gate.' The dhoul do them good with it! Oh, fire and faggots! what'll become ov me ?-shure she will say I have no hospitality, an' lave me her curse. But, cooger, Paudeen: did the roolocks overtake the ox that ran away yestherday ?' Och, the dhoul a haugh ov him ever was got, yer honor.' Well, it's no matther; that'll be a good excuse; do you go and meet her; I lave it all to you to get me out of this hobble.' Naboclish,' said Paudeen Roorke, cracking his fingers, an' out he started. Just as he got to the door he met her going to come in. Well become the king, but he shlipt behind the door to hear what ud be sed. 'Bedhahusth,' he roared to the guests that wor going to dhrink his health while his back was turned. God save yer reverence!' said St Bridget to the butler, takin' him for the king's chaplain, he had such a grummoch face on him; can I see the king?' 'God save you kindly!' sed Paudeen, to be shure ye can. |