inflamed by the power of his emotions, and while he raised himself into the loftiest attitude to which he could ascend, he laid one hand on the altar, and shook the other in the spirit of almost prophetic admonition, and as his eyes blazed and seemed to start from his forehead, thick drops fell down his face, and his voice rolled through lips livid with passion and covered with foam. It is almost unnecessary, to say that such an appeal was irresistible. The multitude burst into shouts of acclamation, and would have been ready to mount a battery roaring with cannon at his command. Two days after the results were felt at the hustings; and while Sir Edward O'Brien stood aghast, Father Murphy marched into Ennis at the head of his tenantry, and polled them to a man in favour of Daniel O'Connell. But we are anticipating.

The notion which had gone abroad in Dublin that the priests were lukewarm, was utterly unfounded. With the exception of Dean O'Shaughnessy, who is a relative of Mr. Fitzgerald (and for whom there is perhaps much excuse), and a Father Coffey, who has since been deserted by his congregation, and is paid his dues in bad halfpence, there was scarcely a clergyman in the county who did not use his utmost influence over the peasantry. On the day on which Mr. O'Connell arrived, you met a priest in every street, who assured you that the battle should be won, and pledged himself that "the man of the people" should be returned. "The man of the people" arrived in the midst of the loudest acclamations. Near thirty thousand people were crowded into the streets of Ennis, and were unceasing in their shouts. Banners were suspended from every window, and women of great beauty were everywhere seen waving handkerchiefs with the figure of the patriot stamped upon them. Processions of freeholders, with their parish priests at their head, were marching like troops to different quarters of the city and it was remarkable that not a single individual was intoxicated. The most perfect order and regularity prevailed; and the large bodies of police which had been collected in the town stood without occupation. These were evidences of organiza

tion, from which it was easy to form a conjecture as to the result.

The election opened, and the court-house in which the Sheriff read the writ presented a very new and striking scene. On the left hand of the Sheriff stood a Cabinet-minister attended by the whole body of the aristocracy of the county of Clare. Their appearance indicated at once their superior rank and their profound mortification, An expression of hitterness and of wounded pride was stamped in various modifications of resentment upon their countenances; while others, who were in the interest of Mr. Fitzgerald, and who were small Protestant proprietors, affected to look big and important, and swelled themselves into gentry upon the credit of voting for the minister. On the right hand of the Sheriff stood Mr. O'Connell, with scarcely a single gentleman by his side; for most even of the Catholic proprietors had abandoned him, and joined the ministerial candidate.

body of the court presented the power of Mr. O'Connell, in a mass of determined peasants, amongst whom black coats and sacerdotal visages were seen felicitously intermixed, outside the balustrade of the gallery on the left hand of the Sheriff. Before the business began, a gentleman was observed on whom every eye was turned. He had indeed chosen a most singular position; for instead of sitting like the other auditors on the seats in the gallery, he leaped over it, and, suspending himself above the crowd, afforded what was an object of wonder to the great body of the spectators, and of indignation to the High Sheriff. The attire of the individual who was thus perched in this dangerous position was sufficiently strange. He had a coat of Irish tabinet, with glossy trowsers of the same national material; he wore no waistcoat; a blue shirt lined with streaks of white was open at his neck, in which the strength of Hercules and the symmetry of Antinous were combined; a broad green sash, with a medal of "the order of Liberators" at the end of it, hung conspicuously over his breast; and a profusion of black curls, curious!y festooned about his temples, shadowed a very handsome and expressive countenance, a

great part of which was occupied by whiskers of a bushy amplitude." Who, Sir, are you?" exclaimed the High Sheriff, in a tone of imperious melancholy, which he had acquired at Canton, where he had long resided in the service of the East India Company. But we must pause here, and even at the hazard of breaking the regular thread of the narration-we cannot resist the temptation of describing the High Sheriff. When he stood up with his wand of office in his hand, the contrast between him and the aerial gentleman whom he was addressing was to the highest degree ludicrous. Of the latter some conception has already been given. He looked a chivalrous dandy, who, under the most fantastical apparel, carried the spirit and intrepidty of an exceedingly fine fellow. Mr. High-Sheriff had, at an early period of his life, left his native county of Clare, and had migrated to China, where, if we may judge from his manners and demeanour, he must have been in immediate communication with a Mandarin of the first class, and made a Chinese functionary his favourite model. We should conjecture that he must loug have presided over the packing of Bohea, and that some tincture of that agreeable vegetable had been infused into his complexion. An Oriental sedateness and gravity are spread over a countenance upon which a smile seldom presumes to trespass. He gives utterance to intonations which were originally contracted in the East, but have been since melodized by his religious habits into a puritanical chant in Ireland. The Chinese language is monosyllabic, and Mr. Molony has extended its character to the English tongue; for he breaks all his words into separate and elaborate divisions, to each of which he bestows a due quantity of deliberate intonation. Upon arriving in Ireland, he addicted himself to godliness, having previously made great gains in China, and he has so contrived as to impart the cadences of Wesley to the pronunciation of Confucius.

Such was the aspect of the great public functionary, who, rising with a peculiar magisteriality of altitude, and stretching forth the emblem of his power, inquired of the gentleman who was suspended from the gallery who he was.-"My name is

O'Gorman Mahon," was the reply, delivered with a firmness which clearly showed that the person who had conveyed this piece of intelligence thought very little of a High-Sheriff and a great deal of O'Gorman Mahon. The Sheriff had been offended by the general appearance of Mr. Mahon, who had distracted the public attention from his own contemplation; but he was particularly irritated by observing the insurgent symbol of "the order of Liberators" dangling at his breast "I tell that gentleman," said Mr. Molony," to take off that badge. "There was a moment's pause, and then the following answer was slowly and articulately pronounced:-" This gentleman (laying his hand on his breast) tells that gentleman (pointing with the other to the Sheriff) that if that gentleman presumes to touch this gentleman, this gentleman will defend himself against that gentleman, or any other gentleman, while he has got the arm of a gentleman to protect him." This extraordinary sentence was followed by a loud burst of applanse from all parts of the court-house. The High-Sheriff looked aghast. The expression of self-satisfaction and magisterial complacency passed off of his visage, and he looked utterly blank and dejected. After an interval of irresolution, down he sat. "The soul" of O'Gorman Mahon (to use Curran's expression)"walked forth in its own majesty;" he looked "redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled." The model of the order of Liberators" was pressed to his heart. O'Connell surveyed him with gratitude and admiration; and the first blow was struck, which sent dismay into the heart of the party of which the Sheriff was considered to be an

adherent.

When

This was the opening incident of this novel drama. the sensation which it had created had in some degree subsided, the business of the day went on. Sir Edward O'Brien proposed Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald as a proper person to serve in Parliament. Sir Edward had upon former occasions been the vehement antagonist of Mr. Fitgerald, and in one instance a regular battle had been fought between the tenantry of both parties. It was supposed that this feud had left some acrimo

nious feelings which were not quite extinct behind, and many conjectured that the zeal of Sir Edward in favour of his competitor was a little feigned. This notion was confirmed by the circumstance that Sir Edward O'Brien's son (the member for Ennis) had subscribed to the Catholic Rent, was a member of the Association, and had recently made a vigorous speech in Parliament in defence of that body. It is, however, probable that the feudal pride of Sir Edward O'Brien, which was deeply mortified by the defection of his vassals, absorbed every other feeling, and that, however indifferent he might have been on Mr. Fitzgerald's account, yet that he was exceedingly irritated upon his own. He appeared at least to be profoundly moved, and had not spoken above a few minutes when tears fell from his eyes. He has a strong Irish character impressed upon him. It is said that he is lineally descended from the Irish emperor, Brian-Borue; and indeed he has some resemblance to the sign-post at a tavern near Clontarf, in which the image of that celebrated monarch is represented. He is squat, bluff, and impassioned. An expression of goodnature, rather than of good humour, is mixed up with a certain rough consciousness of his own dignity, which in his most familiar moments he never lays aside, for the Milesian predominates in his demeanour, and his royal recollections wait perpetually upon him. He is a great favourite with the people, who are attached to the descendants of the ancient indigenous families of the country, and who see in Sir Edward O'Brien a good landlord, as well as the representative of Brian Borue. We were not a little astonished at seeing him weep upon the hustings. It was, however, observed to us, that he is given to the "melting mood," although his tears do not fall like the gum of "the Arabian tree." In the House of Commons he once produced a great effect, bursting into tears, while he described the misery of the people of Clare, although, at the same time, his granaries, were full. It was said that his hustings pathos was of the same quality, and arose from the peculiar susceptibility of the lacrymatory nerves, and not from any very nice fibres about