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for it is impossible for any one decently dressed, to pass through the streets from the crowd of famished objects that are crawling around him. Though I know it is only in the power of Government to make the people either happy or miserable, still whatever could be done by individual aid, ought not to be omitted; and here I cannot avoid addressing myself to the two reverend Gentlemen, to whom the care of the parish is consigned. Let me ask those divines, have they com. plied with the injunctions of their Heavenly Master? Have they, to the utmost of their power, fed the hungry, clothed the naked, or comforted the afflicted? Have they, at this moment of unheard of calamity, two coats in their possession, while one of their brothers remain naked? Or, rather, have they not four, while thousands of the same family, age, or same parish, are without food, fire, or raiment ? Is this fulfilling the christian precept :"Love your neighbour as yourself?" Not one charity sermon has been preached, either in church or chapel, since famine began to take off the superabundant population of this devoted country!! Certainly there has been something done by a few humane individuals, but not sufficient to buy brogues for so many objects. Would to God, those Priests that are employed in barrack-building and panegyrising the British Constitution, would take example by the much and long neglected Curate of this parish of pau

pers.

It is heavenly to behold that angel-like man hurrying from hovel to hovel, from pestilence to pestilence, administering to the wants of body and soul. Often, when his purse became recreant to his mind, has he unshirted himself, when nakedness put his modesty to the blush. You never meet him in the streets wrapped in a cloak of consequence, illuminating with the splendour of his buckles the meagre countenance of poverty, nodding with Spanish pride to his rich parishioners

as they pass but to return to my subject:

There is a circumstance attending the misery of Irishmen, unexampled in the annals of tyranny itself; they hunger in a country prolific in the extreme; nay, in the fields which they themselves cultivated! They fertilize with their sweat that soil whose produce fattens the tythe-fed drone, or white Indian robber. These are the subjects, these are the grievances, that I would expect to fill every newspaper devoted to the prosperity of the coun try. It is, I think, the duty of every Printer in the Colony, to proclaim to the christian world, that in this land of plenty, in this land flowing with milk and honey, there are more than two millions of its inhabitants existing on roots, without bed or blanket, littered like the beast of the field.

A CARLOW FRIEND.

NEW DISPENSARY. Justice Drury very benevolently, at his sole expense, without the aid or patronage of the great, has, at the expense of thirty shillings, endowed an hospital on George's-quay, for the relief of distressed foreigners who may perwant medical assistance, where he sonally attends every morning to receive persons and tenpennies until 12 at noon: he has also founded another in the centre of the town, for the benefit of his fellow-citizens, where his friend Doctor Brennan attends gratis. This humane establishment is on the upper story in Sherry's Court, No. 103, Bride-street: from the merits, skill, and property of the two candidates, for public patronage, the most sanguine opinions are formed of the great acquisition to public safety which the establishments promise. prietor and his deputy have, at a great expense, and the fruits of much industry and study, discovered a solution of the most efficacious nature, which they give gratis to any poor person who 202

The pro

pays

pays the price of the bottle. Doctor Brennan, in aid of the charity, has given his shin plaister to the disposal of the Dispensaries, at the reduced price of a tenpenny each inch square. Benefactions will be received at the Doctor's one pane of glass in Britain

street, exactly opposite to the late reverse of his fortune, the sale of his library of ballads, his two surtouts, and press-bed, very prematurely brought to the auctioneer's hammer, at the suit of Mr. Balfe, attorney at law.

HARTY'S COMEDY.

(Continued from Page 245.)

ACT II. SCENE II. Scene-Newgate. Dick Hayden, Monaghan Tom, Jack Hayden, and Andey, Turnkeys, Tom Galvin the Hangman, and the Sheriff, with his sword obliquely set by his side and a measuring staff in his hand; an attending crowd of men and women, one part in the attitude of supplication, and another marked with indignation.

An old Women enters as Candidate

for the Sheriff's notice.

Sheriff-Well, old dane, upon my honour, I do think, upon my honour, I seen you before.

Old Wom.-And please your ho. nour, I am not the woman you saw before; for, in troth, I might be your grandmother; and, besides that, when, I was young enough to come before your betters, I never was witch enough to see that fortune could play such a cruel trick on my life as to prolong it to come before a hosier's sword to beg a compliment.

Sheriff I direct you, Dick, to keep that old woman out of this goal, and if you neglect your duty, upon my honour, i skall turn you out.

Dick-Here, Tom Monaghan, Jack, Barney Andey, Boddered Dick, put this woman out of the goal.

The Sheriff puts his hand on his sword, and the obedient: ministers of security drag the old woman.

Old Woman, screaming-Ah, beg your honour's pardon, let me tie up my petticoat, and let this candle be given to my son, and I will go as easy as your honour pleases.

Sheriff-On my honour, the wretch has come to tamper with her son, for the purpose of defeating justice; I suppose her son is the notorious Fagan, the coach robber.

Old Wom..-Troth, your honour is his name is Harty. He was born in wrong; my son is not Fagan, because Kilkenny; and when you were singing to a stocking frame, he was a turnpikeman; and, as bad as he is now, though he is your relation, he never robbed any body; he is accused only of asking one of the Major's men, while sitting in a public house, did the Major burn the widow Rattigan's house; and, in troth, as I am a widow myself, I don't think it would disgrace any boy to be angry at burning a widow's house and it.

Sheriff-Turn out that old vagabond; (addressing himself to Dick, Tom Monaghan, and Tom Galvin) upon my honour that old miscreant was sent here to abuse me by Watty Cox; I assure you, gentlemen, I never had any relation a turnpike-man; my name is a proof of the respectability and antiquity of my family; none more ancient in the History of Ireland. The Hartys governed the city of Kilkenny when the Butlers, like the

adversaric

Harty's Comedy.

adversaries of the house of Brennan, was digging potatoes.

Tom Galvin-Upon my salvation, your honour must be a great man beho. your fore you were born; and if nour pleases to get me the twine and the leave of the Major, I will hang the while you would old woman and her son be selling a pair of suspenders. Sheriff-I know you are a loyal man, and that you respect a gentleman. Tom Galvin-Upon my soul, your honour, poor Tom, like your honour, had a great deal to do with rich and poor, and not one of my customers could now say an evil word to my prejudice; if any man was angry at falling through my hands, he acknowledged it was not my fault, but that of the men that gave the recommendation; poor and abject as our mutual enemies may think of me, I never done any thing without the assistance of a clergyman, and the directions of a Sheriff like your honour; certainly they were not rich hosiers like your honour, but they were rich grocers like Alderman Vance, rich drapers like Mr. Blacker, rich merchants like Alderman Stamer, and enemies to Jack Weldon, and loose women like Aldermen Exshaw and Carleton.

Sheriff-Stop Tom; it is unneces sary, at present, to go out of our line.

Tom-Beg your honour's pardon, there is a great deal of difference betuen a hosier's line and a poor hangman's line; your line, please your ho nour, prolongs life, but my line diminishes it; for there is as much difference betuxt a stocking and a rope, as therẻ is betuxt your knee and your honour's chin:

Sheriff-Tom, you are an honest fellow; and I promise you, when I am Lord Mayor, I shall make you as great a man as Mr. Wickam was; you shall be clerk of the market.

Tom-God bless your honour! I have put as many men out of the world as any Wickam, according to law, yet

if your honour pleases, I would choose
some other apppointment; for, to tell
you the truth, though I can weigh,
I am a very bad measurer: if your
honour pleases, "I'll take the guinea,
and whatever your honour pleases with
it, to get a drink, for hanging Fogarty,
as I am going to Kilmainham.
shall have
Sheriff-Yes, Tom, you
your guinea, and a shilling to drink my
health. (Handing Tom some money.)

Tom Galvin-Thank your honour;
and though I drank to many a man's
health, who, though they did not die
through the badness of their constitu
tion, yet, in troth, your honour, they
did not thrive the better by my wishes;
for, your honour, for though I wished
them as well as I do your honour, I
was obliged to do my duty, though my
heart was breaking all the time; all
the consolation I had was, that I knew
my work, when finished, would never
ho-
reproach me, and that I was sure of a
guinea from the Sheriff, like
nour; I beg your honour's pardon for
not wishing you well, for fear your
honour night not thrive; it is only
two hours ago since I drank a pot of
porter to Fogarty's health, and now,
God bless all who hear it, the surgeons
are this minute carving him.

your

Sheriff-Go to Kilmainham, Tom, and take this tenpenny, and never mind (hands him a tenpenny) drinking my (Tom retires bowing.) health.

Dick Hayden, a Turnkey, with a large key in his hand-Sir, here is a woman who wants to be measured.

Sheriff-Woman, who do you want to see, that you came to be measured?

Woman I want to see your honour, and I want to see my son, and I lost want to tell your honour that the crane note of my weight, that I got from your boy James, the day he weighed and measured me, and counted my eyes and teeth at your honor's stockingshop. I have a letter to your honour from Sir Reubens Legboard, recommending me to your honour for a new crane note, that I may have leave to

give

give him a clean shirt, and these two Cunnemaras, I just now bought at your honour's counter. (Sheriff reads the letter, and muses.) Sheriff-Your name is Eleanor Doyle, you come well recommended from my friend, Sir Ruebens, and you shall have the crane-note. Dick, put that woman into the scales.

Dick and Andey put her into the scales, where she is allowed to swing, quite forgotten, for nearly an hour, during the hurry of other applications. Bothered Dick-Sir, the Lord Mayor has sent for your honour. He waits in the "Town Clerk's office for you, to assist him to suppress a con. cealed slaughter-house, discovered not two hours ago, by Mr. Finlay, in Ormond-market.

The old Woman in the Scales Ah, please your honour, before you go, will you let me be finished, I am almost dead with the fear of falling, and nearly famished with cold.

Boddered Dick-Besides, your honour, his Lordship desires that you would not pay Tom Galvin for hanging Fogarty, as Fogarty came to life on his way to Surgeon's Hall, and being helped by the mob, he has escaped.

Sheriff-Nothing but villainy, upon my honour; I ought to guess by the profusion of talk of that damned hangman, that he was nothing but an errant rogue.

Old Woman in the Scales-God bless your honour, will your honour let me be finished.

Sheriff--Let Andey, Jack, and Monaghan Tom pursue that hangman, and get my guinea.

All answer yes, your honour, and retire.

Old Woman-Bless your honour, let me have a drink, or I shall faint in this scale (Sheriff is so embarrassed that he does not hear the old woman.).

Sheriff What I shall I say to the Secretary, about allowing the hangman to impose on me, by spoiling his work, and robbing me to boot.

If

Old WomanSpeaking very low)

you were as long hanging Fogarty as you are weighing me, you would not have lost your guinea.

Sheriff-I shall be ruined, I have no business to face to the Castle; I shall eventually lose my rank, be fined and ruined, if I am not able to get Fogarty.

(A loud tap at the gate, the Turn keys with the Hangman enters.) Dick-Sir, your honour; we have Galvin for your honour.

Sheriff-Have you my guinea. Dick-No, your honour; but we have a pair of breeches and a cow's head, that Tom bought with the guinea, and eight tenpennies the change he received, excepting please your honour, three tenpennies we spent at Island-bridge, where we got the fellow.

Old Woman-Please your honour will you let me be weighed, please your honour.

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Sheriff You villain, you cheat.— Galvin, why did you not hang Fogarty? I shall have you hanged for your roguery.

Tom Galvin Your honour, never was a man hanged better. If he did not die it was not my fault; I soaped the rope and pulled away the trigger when you bid me, and to your own knowledge he fell as even as a ram-rod into a musquet. If there is a fault, it is not poor Tom's. It is betuxt your. self, that gave me the word, Tom Hodgens that made the twine, and the gallows engineer, Mr. Dickinson. I wash my hands out of Fogarty, God forgive him for bringing trouble on me; but for all that, it wont lie at my door, there could be no luck in the business, where Gentlemen would ask my labour for a paltry guinea, at this dear season, when it is known that an industrious man cannot live as cheap as he could formerly. Why, your honour, twenty years ago, I got a guinea each, for every piece of work went through my hands. Hosier's wages have been rais

ed,

ed, why not hangman's wages? All that I have to say about it, if you get Fogarty, I'll hang him, as well as any man in his Majesty's dominions, but remember, your honour, I must have proper wages.

Old Woman-God bless your honour, let me out of this scale, and I never will trouble your honour again. (Still he does not hear the old woman.) Sheriff-You are a prating knave, and audacious wretch. Mr. Galvin, if I have any interest, I will get you dis charged; there can be no security while such a villain is allowed any public employment.

Tom-Troth, your honour may do as you please with a poor man's character; but I have gentlemen to prove that I have been hanging for his Majesty near thirty years, and no complaint was ever made against me for any improper conduct while doing my business. If Fogarty has done my poor family such an injury, as to sham death, God is the best judge; if there is any roguery in the business it is not to be left at my door. Fogarty, every body knows, was a rogue since he was born, and to my great grief even hanging has not cured him.

Sheriff-What noise is that, I cannot hear a word this fellow is saying?

Dick-Please your honour, the woman that brought your honour the letter from Sir Ruebens Legboard, and who you ordered me to weigh, has fallen out of the scales.

Sheriff-Did you weigh her? Dick-No, your honour; she has been up, since your honour sent me

after Galvin.

Sheriff-Weigh her, and let her have a permit.

Dick-Your honour, I believe the fall, and the long time she hang in the scales, has killed her.

Sheriff-What, killed? An innocent woman killed, and Fogarty who committed murder, spoiled in the hanging. Where shall I turn my face to? What shall I say to Sir Charles? A rogue

that I had a warrant to hang, has escaped, and an old woman I only intended to weigh, has been killed. Lord, I wish I had taken how unfortunate!

Sir Jacobus Brussel's advice, against canvassing for city honours. His own story ought to have deterred me; instead of being a Lord Mayor, he is abliged to be cracking jokes at Anthony Moore's, for a dinner.

Tom Galvin-Not so bad, your honour; if I spoiled Fogarty's business, I will try, with your honour's leave, to repair this; for I cannot be lieve an old woman is so easily killed. In the course of my trade, I never hanged a woman that did not give me more trouble than ten men. And, in my family, to my sorrow, I know that the Devil would not kill an old woman. There is my wife Biddy, she has drank as much whiskey as would float a jaunting-car, and had as many falls as would break the necks of a thousand, and she is yet as sound as a trout, and as noisy as a mill-hammer; indeed, to tell the truth to your honour, if bad neighbours did not interfere in a body's family business, I would have as quiet a residence as the mice have in the Royal Exchange: for, on last Palmerstown fair, Biddy, God bless your honour, tumbled into Mr. Drum's milldam, and would be there to this hour, if Mr. Drum only minded his own affairs.

Sheriff-(In great anxiety)—Tom, try what you can do for the woman, and leave off your family business.

Tom-Yes, your honour, putting his hand to his pocket, and taking a bottle, from which he pours some li. quid, approaches the woman, who appears to be dead, and is held in an erect posture by two of the Turnkeys. Tom rubs her temples, puts part of his me dicine into her mouth, he then rubs the palms of her hands, and in a few minutes she shows symptoms of returning animation.

Sheriff Good fellow, Tom, I shall give you a dozen of stockings, and get

your

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