Mr. Peel,--and he is our friend! and he is every body's friend! The friend of the Catholic was the friend of the bloody Perceval, and is the friend of the candid and manly Mr. Peel!"

It is unnecessary to go through Mr. O'Connell's speech It was stamped with all his powerful characteristics, and galled Mr. Fitzgerald to the core. That gentleman frequently muttered an interrogatory, "Is this fair?" when Mr. O'Connell was using some legitimate sophistication against him. He seemed particularly offended when his adversary said, "I never shed tears in public," which was intended as a mockery of Mr. Fitzgerald's references to his father. It will be thought by some sensitive persons that Mr. O'Connell was not quite warranted in this harsh dealing, but he had no alternative. Mr. Fitzgerald had made a very powerful speech, and the effect was to be got rid of. In such a warfare a man must not pause in the selection of his weapons, and Mr. O'Connell is not the man to hesitate in the use of the rhetorical sabre. Nothing of any peculiar interest occurred after Mr. O'Connell's speech upon the first day. On the second the polling commenced; and on that day, in consequence of an expedient adopted by Mr. Fitzgerald's committee, the parties were nearly equal. A Catholic freeholder cannot, in strictness, vote at an election without making a certain declaration upon oath respecting his religious opinions, and obtaining a certificate of his having done so from a magistrate. It is usual for candidates to agree to dispense with the necessity of taking this oath. It was, however, of importance to Mr. Fitzgerald to delay the election; and with that view his committee required that the declaration should be taken. Mr. O'Connell's committee were unprepared for this form, and it was with the utmost difficulty that magistrates could be procured to attend to receive the oath. It was therefore impossible, on the first day, for Mr. O'Connell to bring his forces into the field, and thus the parties appeared nearly equal. To those who did not know the real cause of this circumstance, it appeared ominous, and the O'Connellites

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looked sufficiently blank; but the next day every thing was remedied. The freeholders were sworn en masse. They were brought into a yard inclosed within four walls. Twentyfive were placed against each wall, and they simultaneously repeated the oath. When one batch of swearers had been disposed of, the person who administered the declaration, turned to the adjoining division, and despatched them. Thus he went through the quadrangle, and in the course of a few minutes was able to discharge one hundred patriots upon Mr Fitzgerald. It may be said that an oath ought to be more solemnly administered. In reply it is only necessary to observe, that the declaration in question related principally to "the Pretender," and when "the legislature perseveres in compelling the name of God to be thus taken in vain," the ritual becomes appropriately farcical, and the manner of the thing is only adapted to the ludicrous matter upon which it is legally requisite that Heaven should be attested! The oath which is imposed upon a Roman Catholic is a violation of the first precept of the decalogue! This species of machinery having been thus applied to the art of swearing, the effects upon the poll soon became manifest, and Mr. O'Connell ascended to a triumphant majority. It became clear that the landlords had lost all their power, and that their struggles were utterly hopeless. Still they persevered in dragging the few serfs whom they had under their control to the hustings, and in protracting the election. It was Mr. Fitzgerald's own wish, I believe, to abandon the contest, when its ultimate issue was already certain; but his friends insisted that the last man whom they could command should be polled out. Thus the election was procrastinated. In ordinary cases, the interval between the first and the last day of polling is monotonous and dull; but during the Clare election so many ludicrous and extraordinary incidents were every moment occurring, as to relieve any attentive observer from every influence of ennui. The writer of this article was under the necessity of remaining during the day in the Sheriff's booth, where questions of law were chiefly discussed, but even here there was much

matter for entertainment. The Sheriff afforded a perpetual fund of amusement. He sat with his wand of office leaning against his shoulder, and always ready for his grasp. When there was no actual business going forward, he still preserved a magisterial dignity of deportment, and with half-closed eye-lids, and throwing back his head, and forming with his chin an obtuse angle with the horizon, reproved any indulgence in illicit mirth which might chance to pass amongst the Bar. The gentlemen who were professionally engaged having discovered the chief foible of the Sheriff, which consisted in the most fantastical notions of himself, vied with each other in playing upon this weakness. "I feel that I address myself to the first man of the county," was the usual exordium with which legal argument was opened. The Sheriff, instead of perceiving the sneer which involuntarily played round the lips of the mocking sycophant, smiled with an air of Malvolio condescension, and bowed his head. Then came some noise from the adjoining booths, upon which the Sheriff used to start up and exclaim, "I declare I do not think that I am treated with proper respect-verily I'll go forth and quell this tumult-I'll show them I am the first man in the county, and I'll commit somebody." With that "the first man in the county," with a step slightly accelerated by his resentment at a supposed indignity to himself, used to proceed in quest of a riot, but generally returned with a good-humoured expression of face, observing;-"It was only Mr. O'Connell, and I must say when I remonstrated with him, he paid me every sort of proper respect. He is quite a different person from what I had heard. But let nobody imagine that I was afraid of him. I'd commit him, or Mr. Vesey Fitzgerald, if I was not treated with proper respect; for by virtue of my office I am the first man in the county." This phrase of the Sheriff became so familiar, that a set of wags, who in their intervals of leisure, had set about practising mimicry, emulated each other in repeating it, and succeeded in producing various pleasant imitations of the "first man in the county."

A young gentleman (Mr. Nicholas Whyte) turned this

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talent to a very pleasant and useful account. He acted as agent to Mr. O'Connell, in a booth of which the chief officer, or Sheriff Deputy, as he is called, was believed to be a partisan of Mr. Fitzgerald, and used to delay Mr. O'Connell's tallies. A tumult would then ensue, and the deputy would raise his voice in a menacing tone against the friends of Mr. O'Connell. The High Sheriff himself had been accustomed to go to the entrance of the different booths and to command silence with his long-drawn and dismal ejaculations. When the deputy was bearing it with a high hand, Mr. Whyte would sometimes leave the booth, and standing on the outward edge of the crowd, just at the moment that the deputy was about to commit some partisan of Mr. O'Connell, the mimic would exclaim, in a death-bell voice, "Silence, Mr. Deputy, you are exceedingly disorderly-silence." The deputy being enveloped by the multitude, could not see the individual who thus addressed him, and believing it to be the Sheriff, sat down confounded at the admonition, while Mr. O'Connell's tally went rapidly on, and the disputed vote was allowed. These vagaries enlivened occupations which in their nature was sufficiently dull.

But the Sheriff's booth afforded matter more deserving of note than his singularities. Charges of undue influence were occasionally brought forward, which exhibited the character of the election in its strongest colours. One incident we particularly remember. An attorney employed by Mr. Fitzgerald rushed in and exclaimed that a priest was terrifying the voters. This accusation produced a powerful effect. The counsel for Mr. O'Connell defied the attorney to make out his charge. The assessor very properly required that the priest should attend; and behold Father Murphy of Corofin! His solemn and spectral aspect struck every body. He advanced with fearlessness to the bar, behind which the Sheriff was seated, and inquired what the charge was which had been preferred against him, with a smile of ghastly derision. "You were looking at my voters," cried the attorney. "But I said nothing," replied the priest, "and I suppose that I am to be permitted to look at my parishioners." "Not with such a face

as that!" cried Mr. Dogherty, one of Mr. Fitzgerald's counsel This produced a loud laugh; for, certainly, the countenance of Father Murphy was fraught with no ordinary terrors. "And this then," exclaimed Mr. O'Connell's counsel, "is the charge you bring against the priests. Let us see if there be an Act of Parliament which prescribes that a Jesuit shall wear a mask." At this instant, one of the agents of Mr. O'Connell precipitated himself into the room, and cried out," Mr. Sheriff, we have no fair play-Mr. Singleton is frightening his tenants--he caught hold of one of them just now, and threatened vengeance against him." This accusation came admirably apropos. "What!" exclaimed the advocate of Mr O'Connell, "is this to be endured? Do we live in a free country, and under a constitution? Is a landlord to commit a battery with impunity, and is a priest to be indicted for his physiognomy, and to be found guilty of a look?" Thus a valuable set-off against Father Murphy's eyebrows was obtained. After a long debate, the assessor decided that, if either a priest or a landlord actually interrupted the poll, they should be indiscriminately committed, but thought the present a case only for admonition. Father Murphy was accordingly restored to his physiognomical functions. The matter had been scarcely disposed of, when a loud shout was heard from the multitude outside the Courthouse, which had gathered in thousands, and generally preserved a profound tranquillity. The large window in the Sheriff's booth gave an opportunity of observing whatever took place in the square below; and attracted by the tremendous uproar, every body ran to see what was going on amongst the crowd. The tumult was produced by the arrival of some hundred freeholders from Kilrush, with their landlord, Mr. Vandeleur, at their head. He stood behind a carriage, and, with his hat off, was seen vehemently addressing the tenants who followed him. It was impossible to hear a word which he uttered: but his gesture was sufficiently significant: he stamped and waved his hat, and shook his clenched hand. While he thus adjured them, the crowd through which they were passing, assailed them with the cries, "Vote for your country