96 PRODUCTION OF DEW AND FROST. Assuming the principle, that all bodies of the earth's surface are constantly tending to assume an equilibrium of temperature by the alternate radiation and absorption of heat, many natural phenomena may be satisfactorily explained. Thus, the formation of dew and frost are dependant on this important law in nature. Dew is most commonly observable during the Spring and Summer months, and seems to be a wise and provident provision of nature to assist and protect the growth and developement of plants when the earth is parched up by the excessive drought which had previously existed, and caused the entire vegetable world to assume a languishing condition. During night-time, after the departure of the solar rays, when the star-lit sky presents a clear cloudless aspect, and the circumambient atmosphere produces a cold and chilling sensation, dew is most copiously deposited. At this period, that harmonious interchange of heat, between the surface of the earth and surrounding bodies, becomes temporarily interrupted, and a reduction of its temperature necessarily takes place, from its heat passing off under the radiant form, and being lost in space. The stratum of air immediately in contact with the ground becomes cooled by contact, and the watery vapour which it had previously retained in its more elastic state, becomes condensed, and is deposited in pearly drops as liquid water. The air itself at this moment being rendered specifically lighter than the superincumbent portions, ascends, whilst the heavier portions descend to supply its place, and undergo a similar change, a series of which proceed until some physical cause puts a stop to it altogether. Should the temperature of the air itself be very cool, and the night particularly clear, a still further depression of temperature may take place, so far, that the drops of dew at the moment of their formation may be congealed, and thus form frost. Under ordinary states of our system, this change is prevented from taking place by the canopy of clouds that at all times invert the surface of the earth, and which equally radiate and absorb heat, and then maintain the temperature of the air and surrounding bodies at an equilibrium. Substances that radiate heat best are those on which dew and frost are commonly found deposited; for example, leaves of plants, wood and filamentous substances generally; whilst it is never found on polished surfaces, metal, glass, sand, &c. Vegetable plants are wisely protected from the nipping night frosts of Spring and Autumn, by covering them lightly with fibrous mats, to prevent the free radiation of heat from the ground, and retain it at a proper temperature for their preservation and growth; and in like manner, the mantle of snow that invests the surface of the ground in Winter time, prevents the loss of heat from the soil below and W. T. favours the vegetation of the seed. THE HUMAN FRAME COMPARED TO A WATCH.The heart is the main spring, the stomach the regulator, and what we put into it the key by which the machine is wound up; according to the quantity, quality, and proper digestion of what we eat and drink will be the pace of the pulse, and the action of the system in general. When we observe a due proportion between the quantum of exercise and that of excitement, all goes on well. If the machine be disordered, the same expedients are employed for its re-adjustment as are used by the watchmaker-it must be carefully cleaned and judiciously piled. THE NIGHTS. Oh! the Summer Night And she sits on a sapphire throne; From the bud to the rose o'er blown ! But the Autumn Night Has a piercing sight, And a step both strong and free, Like the wrath of the Thunder, When he shouts to the stormy sea! And the Winter Night And the warm Spring cometh, Oh, the Night, the Night! "Tis a lovely sight, Whatever the clime or time; For sorrows then soareth, And the lover out-poureth His soul in a star-bright rhyme. It bringeth sleep To the forests deep, And that balm to the weary-Rest! TO OUR READERS. G. "THE BALLAD SINGER OF LIMERICK." The subscribers of the DUBLIN JOURNAL have so much increased during the interval that has unavoidably elapsed since the publication of the first part of the "Ballad Singer," that we will republish it in our next number, in order that they may read the entire story consecutively. We now have the entire MS., and will publish portions in each successive number, until it is fully completed. By this arrangement we will obviate much inconvenience which would otherwise arise. ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. "INNISFAIL."-When the entire of the MS. is sent to us we shall be enabled to judge of its merits. "W. T."-We shall thankfully accept the communications. "**" Cork.-We shall most heartily avail ourselves of the We are highly suggestions of our able correspondent. flattered by his kind attentions. We uniformly 'supply our publisher with the DUBLIN JOURNAL in time for Thursday's post, every week, and are informed by him that they are duly despatched. We cannot, consequently, account for the delay complained of. The FIRST PART of our Second Vol. was published on the 28th November, and ought, therefore, to be, ere this, in the hands of our subscribers. Several communications arrived too late for notice this week Printed for the Proprietors, at the Office, 32, Lower Sackville-street, Dublin, where all communications (post-paid) art to be addressed, to the Editor. Published by T. TEGG & Co., 8, Lower Abbey-street, Dublin; and all Booksellers. THE DUBLIN OF TEMPERANCE, SCIENCE, AND LITERATURE. No. 7.-VOL. II. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. REMINISCENCES OF A BARRISTER. MURDER WILL OUT! "An orphan's curse will drag to hell A spirit from on high; Is the curse in a dead man's eye." PRICE 1d. he was recovered from the swoon, that a vast change had come over him, was remarked by even the casual observers of the house; but their astonishment was still further increased when they heard, a few days after, that the stranger had surrendered himself into the hands of justice for a murder which had been committed by him upwards of twenty years before. And now having, as it were, initiated our reader into the circumstances which led to the confession, we must give the story in his own words, or as nearly as possible: “When and where I was born, it matters not; it will be quite sufficient to state, that my family was of a very high standing, and that I was a younger son. I early shewed a predilection for the army; and, as this quite accorded with my father's intentions, my wishes met with no opposition. As soon as possible a commission was obtained for me, and I eagerly Not very many years ago, whilst on circuit, the following extraordinary case came under my notice— a case which, all will admit, fully proves that a particular Providence never loses sight of the murderer, and, generally speaking, brings him finally to punishment. This occurrence excited, from its circumstances, a great deal of interest-so that, on the day of trial, the courts were crowded to excess. It was that of a foreigner, who was tried, at his own instance, on account of a murder, which would have inevitably remained buried in oblivion, had not the inward workings of a distressed conscience prompted him to reveal it. The circum-joined my regiment. It was in a time of peace that stances which immediately led to his making the I got it, and all know how very bad a school for confession were so out of the common, that I shall youth the army is at such a period. I soon briefly narrate them: acquired dissipated habits, and entered into expenses beyond my income: in short, I was becoming very much embarrassed, when the death of my father and elder brother, which followed each other in quick succession, raised me above my difficulties. I now, in some measure reformed; in fact, every one said that I was quite altered: I no longer associated with the idler and the roué, nor indulged in unwonted extravagance; but there was one vice which I had acquired, and this one never left me-it was the vice of gambling! Often have I sat at the rouge et noir table for a couple of days with no interruption, and got up, sometimes a winner and sometimes a loser of thousands. My fortune was so very equally balanced, that at twelve months' end I had neither lost nor gained; but, in the nature of things, this equilibrium could not long continue: a run came against me, and in two short days I arose a poorer man by two-thirds of my property. During the space of time I have been speaking of, it must not be supposed that I absented myself from the beau monde-not at all; I was a pretty constant attendant on all the fetes and balls; and, now that I am on the brink of eternity, it will not be accounted vanity when I say that I was both courted and admired. In my regiment there was another officer of my own age and standing, and one who was very similar to me in his tastes; in a short Happening to be stopping at an inferior inn in a small seaport town, during his stay, a poor sailor, who was a cabin-boy in one of the ships in the harbour, chanced to fall, by some accident, from the bowsprit, and being unable to swim, was drowned ere assistance could be brought; his dead body was laid in an out-house of this inn, which was adjacent to the scene of his death, until an inquest could be held, but, as soon as that was over, it was placed in its coffin in a room in the house, whither multitudes flocked to see it, induced by that unaccountable spirit of curiosity, that derives a pleasure even from objects the most revolting: the fact of its being uncom. mon, as Addison says, "bestows charms even on a monster." Amongst others Monsieur D'Eleve, as we shall name the criminal, actuated, some will say by chance, but I would rather say by a just and retributive Providence, unwittingly entered this chamber of death; but no sooner had he cast a look on the body, the eyelids of which, at this critical moment, were, by some movement of the bier, partly opened, than exclaiming-" Oh, my God!" he fainted away. This was, by the by-standers, attributed, of course, to the sight of a corpse acting on a perhaps very nervous mind, and any impression it made soon wore away; but not so with Monsieur D'Eleve: after time we became bosom friends, and inseparable companions: one thing, however, there was, in which he mainly differed from me he abhorred gambling! and it was well he did; for, being a younger son like myself, his means were not even so large as mine originally were; but those means, I must mention, for a reason which will appear by and by, were entirely at his own disposal. "In the balls and assemblies which we generally frequented together, we frequently met a Miss S., a young English lady of great personal beauty, but possessing still greater attractions in the suavity and elegance of her manners. It was soon apparent to all who knew him, that my friend, whom we shall call D'Eperne, was deeply smitten, for he exhibited all the symptoms of a love-sick knight; at length it became so well known, that his brother officers used constantly to quiz him about the lady. When it came to this pitch, I resolved (for truly I loved him as a brother) to ask him the truth of the report; he acknowledged, without hesitation, that he did indeed love, and that to distraction, for he fancied there was no return. I strenuously advised him to hazard the inquiry of the lady herself; this he did that very evening, and was not rejected. From henceforth he was a changed man; but it was a change for the better in every respect. Shortly after this, some of his brother officers beginning as usual to: quiz him about Miss S., he calmly got up and said, that he should consider it a personal affront if any one in future should, before him, use that lady's name lightly.' Of course this was equivalent to an open declaration of the state of affairs, and as such was respected. "A war had now broken out; it was hailed with joy by turbulent spirits, and men of broken fortune like myself; but the tidings fell like a weight of lead on the hearts of D'Eperne and his lovely wife, to whom he had been united six months, for now he must leave her, and perhaps for ever. But since it was inevitable, instead of spending their time in idle lamentations and useless regrets, they immediately began to cast about them to see what was best to be done. It was resolved that Madame D'Eperne should go to her family in England, until the war should be concluded. I was with this excellent pair the very last evening they ever spent together. An attempt to describe it would be vain; but oh! it was heart. rending to see that lovely woman hanging over a darling husband, while something seemed to whisper to her that it was for the last time. "War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled, "How graphic is this description of war! 46 Time, however, stays for none, and D'Eperne saw his wife on her way to England. Our regiment was one of the first that was ordered to the field of action, and many were the scenes of carnage and strife in which we were engaged. In about seven months my friend got a letter from his wife, in which she told him that she had borne him a son, and asked him what name he should have? He gave it my name, Louis,' the name of his friend, for we were The war was at length concluded, and I, as soon as possible, came to this country. My friend's widow had never recovered the blow inflicted on her by her husband's death, but had died shortly before my arrival. I took the boy immediately under my own ken, without any opposition on the part of his friends, and went with him to London, that he might have the benefit of a first-rate education, for I was determined to make him all that my beloved friend could have wished. Louis, who was now six years old, soon wound himself round my heart, (for he was amiable and lovely, like his mother,) and I was very happy, but, alas! this was not to continue. After having been so long employed in an active and exciting manner, the tameness of every-day-life soon became insupportable, and the passion for play returned with overwhelming vehemence. I yielded! and it makes my blood now run cold whilst I reflect upon the consequences! My luck was for a long while very similar to that which I had wheu first beginning to play-I mean that I neither lost nor won. This ought to have been a warning, but I took it otherwise; for I calculated with the gambler's false arithmetic of chances, that the same result could not twice follow, and that this time I would be as successful, as before I was unfortunate; moreover, put a kind of gloss over my vice, making it appear almost a virtue, by persuading myself that it was for Louis's sake I was playing, that I might leave him a large inheritance: thus concealing, even from my own heart, the utter selfishness of my proceedings. Fortune, in a few months, declared against me. I lost, in a few sittings, not only my own, but a great part of my ward's property. I rose from the table absolutely frantic! My first thoughts turned to I threw suicide, but something made me put it off myself upon my bed, and bitter thoughts and fruitless wishes passed through my mind-nay, sometimes a ray of hope shot across; but to all, the heart-rending thought that it was too late-which, we are told, will be a chief ingredient in the misery of the lost-arose an insuperable obstacle. I remained in this horrible I state, which none can tell but those who have felt it, for upwards of two days, during which period the caresses of the innocent little Louis added in no small degree to my torture. At length I recollected D'Eperne's will, and the dreadful idea of murder flitted vaguely and indistinctly across my mind; the thought was then involuntary-a suggestion, doubtless, of the demon. It did not seem as if I could do such a thing, but that such a thing might be done. This thought recurred often, until at length it became as it were naturalised to my mind, and I contemplated the deed without horror. I even still think that my senses were wandering at the time. It seems too horrible that I, in my right mind, should kill one I loved so well as Louis; but gambling makes all its victims fiends and madmen. * "I followed a hearse in the paraphernalia of woe All remarked my altered look; indeed, I looked wretched; and was it wonderful, when I was a murderer? It was I who cut down this fair flower before its time, which all supposed withered by the fell hand of consumption! A slow and secret poison, of which I had learned the composition in Italy, served my purpose, and rid me from my embarrassment; but by the deed I had forestalled hell. would have given worlds for even that peace which I had enjoyed before the committal of this act; yet how strangely infatuated was I! I had seen him die by inches, but never thought of saving him until I heard the knell-like sound of it's too late, it's too late,' singing in my ears! I "These words were never out of my mind for a minute together. I rushed to the gaming table for relief, and entered like a desperado into the deepest play. Strange to say, fortune was now on my side, and I won immensely; but even high play soon became insipid. I fell into a delirious fever, and none but myself can tell the agony of mind which I suffered on my recovery-dreading, as I did, that during my ravings I had revealed that awful crime with which my mind was burdened; for truly any one might have pointed me out as one Scandit æratas vitiosa cura naves.' "My crime was ever beside me; indeed I may say, without exaggeration, that since the event I have not joyed a peaceful moment. The great secresy I was obliged to keep was itself a misery. Many times before this have I been on the eve of discovering myself; but something has hitherto prevented me. To account for my doing so now I shall only mention, that ever since the committal of the crime, I have had an absolute horror of looking on a corpse; but, more than all, if its eyes be at all open. It was these circumstances, combined with a striking likeness between the young sailor and Louis, which has led to my confession. Inscrutable, indeed, are the ways of Providence." Here the unfortunate man broke off; he was several times during the narration interrupted by flods of tears, particularly at the part where he spoke of his friend's dying injunctions. After having, as the saying is, "made a clean breast of it," he seemed much happier. He was executed, by his own request, in this country; his own government having been written to for permission. His property he left to several charities, but principally to the Asylums for the destitute and orphan. T. D. H. LINES ON THE DEATH OF MISS M. B., SLIGO. She drooped, the sweetest of all flowers Joy, joy, on t'other hand to see Alas! for him who writes the dirge, J. A. O. ORIGIN OF PUNCTUATION. The learned German, Augustus Matthæi, in his Greek Grammar, says, that it was not till the great influx of strangers to Alexandria had impaired the purity of the Greek language, that the art of pointing became an object with the learned. Matthæi further states that Aristophanes of Byzantium, the Grammarian, who was born about the year 240, invented three marks, by which to distinguish the divisions of a discourse:-upon the authority of the Port Royal Latin Grammar, and from what is further stated by Matthæi, it appears that his statement, that there were three marks, is too large: in fact there was only ohe mark, a point, serving three different offices, each office being distinguished by the situation of the point; for instance, if the position of the point was over the last letter of a word, it performed the part of our full-point, and denoted the end of a period or complete close of the sentence;-if placed in or at the middle of a letter, it served for our colon-point, perhaps also for our semi-colon-point, and denoted that the proposition was only partly finished, that another member, beginning with a pronoun or conjunction was necessary or about to be added, and from its position it was by the Latins termed media distinctio;-if placed at the bottom of the last letter of a word, from its position it was by the Latins called subdistinctio, and denoted that the sense was altogether incomplete or suspended. Afterwards when pointing came into more general use, to denote a period, the point was removed from the top to the bottom of the word-to denote a colon, the point bearing the form of our colon-point was adoptedand a point, bearing somewhat the form of the commapoint, was used to denote a comma;—these last three points are found in some of the oldest manuscripts now extant.-Francillon's Essay. EXAMPLE.-Nothing is so contagious as example: never was there any considerable good or ill done, that does not produce its like. We imitate good actions through emulation, and bad ones through a malignity in our nature. THE BALLAD SINGER OF LIMERICK. FOUNDED ON FACT. "Cork lads and Limerick lasses" being proverbially the boast of Munster, it is not surprising that we should choose a hero or heroine amongst them, in preference to the lads, however brave, and lasses, however fair, of less favoured counties. Our choice in the present instance renders a personal description of our heroine totally unnecessary. When we say she was a daughter of the city of the siege, who will require to be told that she was lovely? Could she, in whose veins ran the purest blood of its fair and high-spirited defenders, be otherwise than virtuous? This being sufficient to satisfy any Irishman or Irishwoman worthy of the name, we will, without further preface, relate the "true history " of one whose proudest distinction was that of being a 'Limerick lass." Kate O'Carrol was the daughter of a merchant, who, for many years, had maintained a high character for integrity in the city of Limerick. About the time that our heroine arrived at the age of eighteen, some of those circumstances which affect the credit of mercantile men, created a doubt of Mr. Carrol's stability. "There is a tide in the affairs of men," and when it turns, few, indeed, are able to swim against it wave follows wave, till the poor struggling wretch is overcome his own efforts but serving to accelerate his doom-and he sinks, at length, into the ocean of obscurity. And so with the poor merchant bill followed bill, till the demands he could have met singly, became overwhelming when made together, and he found himself utterly ruined. Constant anxiety and depression of spirits brought on an illness of which he died, leaving to his wife and child little besides an unsullied name. Reader! will you disturb your imagination from its soft arm-chair of fiction-from woes deep as cambric hankerchiefs and sal-volatile can make themfrom heroes and heroines who "die of a rose in aromatic pain," to trace with us the real progress of the widow and her child, once rich and fastidious as yourself, towards utter destitution to follow them from lodging to lodging-to mark the transfer of their scanty furniture, from the room of the poor widow to the shops of the rich pawnbroker-to watch their meals daily becoming poorer in quality and less in quantity, till every resource is exhausted, and they are starving! Yes, there is such a thing as starvation! Oh! you who doubt its existence-you, who cannot bring your indolent mind to understand the meaning of so vulgar a word! terrible is the form in which conviction of its reality will reach your paralysed soul! You, who turn your eyes from the starving mechanic, from the palid workwoman, whom the cost of one of your fancied wants would support for weeks-is there no thorn in the bed of roses on which your conscience sleeps? And you, saintly Pharisee, who pay, in the eye of the world, with scrupulous exactitude for your high-priced luxuries, think you that they are paid for? No; their price is the tear wrung from poverty and misery-the struggle of the noble mind-the throb of the broken heart! Unfaithful stewards, when will the last farthing of your debts be paid? The only memento of better days which now remained to them was a dog, which had been a great favourite of Mr. O'Carrol's. He had followed them through all the stages of poverty, with a degree of fidelity which endeared him to them, the more from the contrast it presented to the conduct of their friends. Kate had willingly shared her own scanty meals with him; but on this, their first day of absolute of their little store, the dog came as usual, expecting want, when she had given her mother the last portion to get his share, and seeing that she took no notice of him, whined mournfully. "I have nothing for you to-day, Lion," she exbreakfast with you; you must seek another mistress. claimed: it would be no easy matter to share my Go, my poor fellow," she continued, as she opened the door to let him out, lest his whining may disturb her mother. Lion looked into her face as if he understood what she had said, and went quietly out of the room. The day passed slowly; and whilst Kate O'Carrol stood by the bed-side of the poor invalid, watching her feverish cheeks and parched lips, plan after plan for procuring means to relieve her wants ticable. Her mother, always delicate, had been, since suggested itself, and was given up as wild and impracher father's death, in a state of ill health that rendered Kate's leaving her for any situation impossible. The only relative of her father's whom she knew, had been applied to as a last resource. A cold reply was all she received; he had all those claims on his purse, which, by an unhappy coincidence, rich people always have when appealed to by their poor relations. Her mother's only brother had been in India for many years. Mrs. O'Carrol had written to him before her husband's death, but months may elapse before the arrival of his answer. Poor Kate felt like a person standing in a lane blind at both ends; whichever way she looked, starvation seemed to close the prosmother, who now awoke, and, turning eagerly towards pect. Her sad reflections were interrupted by her her, said "Kate, I am very thirsty. Is there any tea left?' Kate took up the wretched tea-pot, and looked into it as a child seeks a lost plaything, when he has seen it in his dreams, unwilling to believe that it is really gone; she could not speak, but laid it down again, and burst into tears. "Don't cry, my dear child," said the poor woman, as Kate threw herself on her knees by the bed-side: done." "this will only shorten my suffering; God's will be Ten minutes had not elapsed, when, struck by a sudden thought, Kate started from her knees; she would sell Lion! she had frequently heard that he was valuable. Strange that it had not occurred to her before! Not having seen him since morning, she hurried down stairs to look for him, and knocked at the door of the room inhabited by the owner of the house, a rough but well-natured woman." "Have you seen Lion, Mrs. Mullins ?" she asked eagerly; "is he here?" "Indeed I know nothing at all about him, Miss O'Carrol," replied the woman, in a rather uncourteous tone; " I suppose he's looking for what isn't here for him-something to eat.' "Oh! what shall I do, if he is gone?" exclaimed Kate, as, turning away from the door, and not wishing to return to her mother in uncertainty, she sat down on the stairs to watch for the return of the dog. "There's guilty nature for you!" cried Mrs. Mullins, as she slapped the door after her; "the life dropping out of her poor mother, an' she has the face to come looking for her dog. 'Tis hard to expect they'd be good to us, when they are not natural to one another. 'Have you seen Lion, Mrs. Mullins?' Well, there is no use in talking, what is bred in the bone can't be got out o' the flesh." Not a word of this was lost on Kate; she had never before felt so deeply humiliated. She could not, however, blame Mrs. Mullins, who had been very civil hitherto, as appearances seemed to justify her indig nation. She had sat for some time absorbed in pain |