ing of dislike and dread for their possessor; repelling all freedom, which by the way he did not seem anxious to encourage." (Quere, is not this a copy of the Black Dwarf?)

Having said this young person was very short in stature, it should be added," (what an Irish author only could have added,)" that he was not at all deformed!" "Across his should ers and breast, indeed, was a breadth that told more for strength than proportion, and his arms were long and of Herculean sinew, but the lower part of the figure, hips, thighs, and legs," (hips I apprehend to have been its middle), "bespoke vigour and elasticity, rather than clumsiness, and it was known, strange-looking as the creature might be, he could run, leap, and wrestle with a swiftness and dexterity seldom matched among men of more perfect shape, and more promi. sing appearance." It would have been more proper to say unequalled by any men of his time.

Pierce Shea, desirous to conduct his betrothed (Alley Dooling) to six o'clock mass on Christmas morning, is the first discoverer of the murder of her parents, and the disappearance of her self. The agony of the lover affords, of course, a favourable opportunity of displaying the author's skill in the pathetic. The recollection of Crohoore's conduct on the preceding night, his absence on the fatal morning, and, above all, the bloody billhook, leave no doubt on any mind of the perpetrator of the murder. But what was become of Alley? A curious gossip ensues, (and more tiresome specimens of conversations in the vulgar dialect of Hibernia, than the O'Haras present us with, I never met with in speech or writing), in which it is decided by a conclave of matrons, that Crohoore was her lover, and moreover might have been no very unfavoured one for why? she was kind to him, and he was always very ready to fly at her bidding; ergo, the best way to secure the affections of his beloved, was to murder her father and mother, and to take the fleetest horse in their stall and carry her off. All this is confirm ed by the testimony of a witness who had that night actually met Crohoore, on a good horse, with something before him across the saddle, like a bun dle of women's clothes. Of course a pursuit is determined on, conducted

by Pierce Shea, maddened by rage and despair, and aided by his foster brother, and some others. In the course of this pursuit, a variety of wonderful adventures takes place. Crohoore is then seen flitting like a ghost, or flying like an ostrich; but as all happens in a land of fairies, under whose protection he is known to be, every effort to arrest him is vain. Pierce Shea, a young man of great strength and agility, is at one time in the pursuit, but the undeformed dwarf of" unnatural disproportion," bounds over a river, into which his pursuer, wholly incompetent to such a spring, tumbles headlong, but, to the surprise of the spectators, is saved from drowning by Crohoore, who draws him upon the bank at his side, and after some successful efforts to restore animation, leaves him to the care of his friends.

The cavern of Dunmore, one of those cavities so frequently occurring in calcareous formations, serves Crohoore to hide in, and the author to employ his descriptive talents. It was at that time, he tells us, according to general belief, the resort of all sorts of Irish witches, fairies, and demons, consequently befitting the purposes of such a wizard as Crohoore, who foils all the schemes of the pursuing party, Pierce Shea being the only person exempt from the influence of superstitious terror. That the describer of the cave never visited it, may, I think, be presumed, from the following passage:-"Indeed, throughout the whole chamber, the awful frolic of nature bears comparison with art;" (the reverse of nature's awful frolics in other places ;)" ranges of fluted columns, that seem the production of the chisel, only much dilapidated by time, rise, almost at correct distances, to the arching roof; by the way, having necessarily been formed by petrifaction, drop upon drop, it is astounding to think of the incalculable number of years consumed in the process." It is astounding to think how any scientific writer could produce such a passage, the marvel of the columns, like that of the fairies, being all imaginary. The nature of stalactite formation sufficiently evinces the error. Falling water, impregnated with the calcareous ingredient, first forms small incrustations on the floor. As these incrustations rise in height, they increase in base, the apex being small

in comparison with the bottom, where the greater part of the calcareous matter is deposited. They are accordingly seldom high, and in shape more resembling a rounded and irregular pyramid than a pillar. How fluted columns could be thus formed, it is al together impossible to conceive.

Crohoore's ingenious biographers have been a little unfortunate in the era of their fairy mythology, which is certainly brought much too near the present times. My own memory goes pretty far back, and in my early days I knew many whose recollection extended to the very beginning of the eighteenth century; yet did I never meet one who did not speak of fairies, witches, and wizards, as tales of the olden times, or, at most, as showing their power only in some petty domes tic mischief,-turning beer sour, delaying the work of the churn, or striking a child with lameness. This belief was sometimes turned to account, by knavish servants laying their thefts of milk, butter, and such things, to the door of those invisible agents. This supposed agency in protecting felons and murderers from public jus tice, I have only learned since I opened the Tales of the O'Hara Family. But an earlier date to Crohoore's story would not have answered the purposes of the authors, one of which is to join in the cry against the Established Church, and to represent the oppression of proctors as the primary cause of Irish distress. For this worthy end it was necessary to come down to 1745, or somewhat later, because the true cause of the Whiteboy insurrection, which, however, they did not choose to specify, originated about that time. Candour, had they known such a quality, would have imputed it to the scandalous vote of the Irish House of Commons, respecting what was called the Tithe of Agistment, by which the grazier and dairyman were exonerated from all contribution to the incomes of the clergy, and their support thrown upon the laborious tillers of the soil. Thus the squire who held 5000 acres, with all its stock of cows, sheep, and bullocks, paid nothing for the same; while the poor labourer, who had but one acre of potatoes, paid the full tenth of his crop. That this palpable injustice should have bred popular discontent, is not wonderful, nor that VOL. XXIV.

the poorman should wish to enjoy that exemption which he saw possessed by the rich. Hence his indignation was naturally, though erroneously, directed against the clergy, who, having no other means of subsistence, were under the necessity of resorting to all that was left them,-the tenth part of the tillage. That proctors, like all other factors, may have been fre quently injurious and oppressive, is true; but it is no less true that the former, whom no species of oppression reached in nine parts of his crop, could be but little injured by the exaction of the tenth. From this source Whiteboyism took its rise, and, as long as the clergy alone were the sufferers, small were the efforts made to sup press it. The honest O'Haras now tell us, that all the crime and all the suffering arose from clerical extortion!

But what, we will ask, have tithes and proctors to do with the Billhook? A second story is interwoven with the first, partly, perhaps, for the gratifica tion of abusing the clergy, and excusing the Whiteboys, and partly for heaping more acts of misery on Pierce Shea, as if the loss of his mistress, and the murder of his friends, were not sufficient. The unfortunate Pierce, jaded and baffled in his pursuit of the supposed murderer, falls into a snare laid for him by one Doran, an old rival, with whom he becomes reconciled, and who seems to aid him in his endeavours to recover his mistress. This Doran (the real murderer of the Doolings,) persuades him at last, from motives of pure patriotism, to join the Whiteboys, who break into a proctor's house, and afterwards bury him alive up to the neck, leaving him to the vengeance of the man he has ruined, who has a large stone prepared to knock out his brains. This, however, Pierce prevents; and his humanity is afterwards rewarded by a reprieve, when going to be hanged. Pierce, after rescuing the proctor from his incensed enemy, not without danger of his own life, attends him to his house, where presently after a party of English dragoons arrive, to whom the grateful proctor, in the hope of a reward, betrays his deliverer. The party then ride off with Shea, and the person from whose clutches the proctor had been rescued, as their prisoners, although the latter, according to the 30

story, had been left behind at the proctor's grave. On their march to Kilkenny, they meet or overtake what they think to be a funeral procession, on which the soldiers crack some jokes, in a miserable imitation of Yorkshire and Cockney dialect. It proves, however, to be no joking matter. The sham-funereals are Whiteboys disguised as women, by whom the fifteen dragoons are surprised, overthrown, dismounted, and their guns and swords taken from them. This plot, for which there could not have been above half an hour's preparation, is all in good humour. The rescue being all they wanted, the victors give them permission to return in safety. Then comes a counterplot on the part of the military, who beg that their arms may be restored, as the disgrace of returning without them would be attended with punishment and dismissal. This is acceded to, the guns being first discharged, the cartridges emptied, and the dragoons promising to retire without molestation. But the arms are no sooner restored, and the troopers mounted, than the sergeant, who, though engaging to use no swords, had said nothing of holsters, orders his men to draw their pistols and fire, in consequence of which fifteen Whiteboys fell lifeless! Such a shot certain ly never was made before or since. This, however, only raises the fury of the mob, and fifteen pistols, for each man had a pair, are again discharged, and, mirabile dictu! with precisely the same fatal effect. Then ensues a desperate conflict, which terminates in the destruction of the dragoons, save about two, who with difficulty make their escape. In truth, the

notion of the whole story is so incongruous, incredible, and extravagant, though a few of the scenes display some power, that I can't find in my heart to weary either myself or my readers with the detail. Suffice it to say, that by a series of the most improbable events and operations, Crohoore proves to be not only the protector, but the brother of Alley, the friend and preserver of Pierce Shea, and finally the cause of convicting Doran and his accomplice of the mur der-the last by mere accident, for, having himself been convicted of the murder, he happens to espy the real culprit disguised in the court-the last place, certainly, where one would expect to find him-and springing at him from the dock, Doran is at last secured, and meets his just fate. With respect to plot, a greater tissue of absurdities could not have been put together by an idle schoolboy.

The conversations, carried on in the Irish slang, are generally tedious, frequently irrelevant and uninteresting, and sometimes disgustingly profane.

Of the tale called the Fetches, a word meaning the apparition, not of the dead, but the living, I can only say that my patience was so utterly exhausted before I got through half, that I laid it down to rest in peace for me, not, however, without two impressions of wonder,-one, that any persons, having regard to sense and sanity, could sit down to write such books-and the other, that any could be found idle enough to read them..

Yet these Tales profess to have ar◄ rived at a Second Edition!

SENEX.

Of all the circumstances which have contributed to raise Great Britain to the high station which she holds amongst the nations of the world, there is perhaps none to which she owes so much, as the unswerving determination of her national character. In periods of difficulty and danger from faction within, or hostile efforts with out the kingdom, (and to such periods we have not been strangers) this great feature of English character has brought us through; and our enemies have been baffled, not more by the force, than the steadiness of our resistance. Nor was it merely in repelling attacks upon our greatness that we found the benefit of this distinguished characteristic of our country, but in preventing even the attempt at aggression, on the part of those who knew, that having once determined the line which it was most for our national honour and welfare to adopt, no event short of utter destruction would make us yield one iota from our purpose. Such was the proud character of England; and even those who contended that to its operation we owed the loss of America, could not deny, that we lost with honour that which we could not have kept without a compromising policy, that would have exhibited England in the disgraceful position of bending before a rude and haughty colony. We -lost the territory, but we retained that which was of more importance to us, our character. And well it was for the country that that war did not teach the sovereign a lesson of yielding, which must have been fatal at its close, when a desperate faction, triumphant in the House of Commons, shook the strength of Government almost to its foundation. If the modern system of compromise and conciliation had prevailed in the Government of 1784, how would it have stood before the monstrous Coalition of Fox and North? -Yet formidable, irresistible, as this Coalition appeared, the determination of a King, who declared himself ready to submit to the last extremity before he yielded to an outrageous faction, and of a Minister whose transcendent abilities and lofty courage were wor

thy of such a sovereign, was sufficient to defeat it, and save the country from the peril in which it stood. It is scarcely necessary to point to the succeeding events as exemplifying the glorious results of England's bold, straightforward, unbending resolution, which led her along, unswerving from her lofty path, in spite of all the efforts of a power which everywhere else swept on like a destructive torrent over subjugated kingdoms and ruined dynasties. During this time England knew nothing of half measures, which were foreign to her character, and despised by her sovereign *; her object was to defend herself and conquer France, and she paused but for a moment in her course, until at the end of twenty years she planted her flag within the gates of Paris.

Such, as we have said, was the cha◄ racter of English policy; but unhappily there has arisen within a few years a new system, which it shall be now our business shortly to examine, with reference to the present state of affairs, to which it has led. It is sufficiently notorious, that those who, both in this country and on the Continent, speak with so much sneering insolence towards England on the subjects of Foreign and Irish affairs, attribute all the difficulties which they present, to the mismanagement of the present Ministry; be it ours to shew that the circumstances to which they allude, and all the difficulties which accom pany them, are the consequence of the weak un-English policy pursued by men who are the political idols of those who represent these circumstances as so dangerous. The policy of "conciliation" has something detestable in its very name, when applied to the concerns of kingdoms. It is weak, puerile, and ridiculous. There is in politics a right course and a wrong. Whatever State or Minister thinks to insure present safety by steering between them, abandons respectability, and heaps up difficulties for the future. The man who is weak enough to conciliate, is also weak enough to try to do that by cunning, which he dares not attempt openly and boldly,

and then, if he succeed, he succeeds without honour; and if he fail, he fails with tenfold disgrace. Yet this system of conciliation and manoeuvre was that adopted by a leading Minister of the Crown after the death of Lord Londonderry, to the abandonment of that straightforward English policy which had gained so much for us, and, as we shall see, to the production of that state of affairs on the Continent which the present Ministry is charged with not having prevented. Mr Canning, it must be admitted, nor do we make the admission with any reluctance, was certainly a person of very brilliant talents; an elegant scholar, an accomplished orator, and a polished wit; but as certainly he did not possess that iron integrity of soul, that incapability of every thing tricky and intriguing, which ought to distinguish a British Minister. He was not sufficiently scrupulous about the means he used to obtain an object which he thought desirable, and he soon enter ed upon an experiment, which, while it served his purpose, gave a sickening blow to the talent and feeling of the House of Commons, which it has not yet recovered. He knew as well as any man, that nothing could be more worthy of detestation and contempt than the conduct of the Whig party during the war, and the commotions which disturbed England three or four years after its close; yet after a little time, he thought proper, in order to save himself the trouble which a virulent Opposition might occasion, to "conciliate" certain leaders amongst the Whigs, and thus a miserable nauseous kind of political flirtation arose; the principles which men held steady and firm whilst they were obliged daily to fight for them, slipped away from them during this period of pusillanimous peace, or were drivelled down to the milk-and-water trash of liberalism; and the House lost much of that vigour, and energy, and stout English feeling, the want of which is perhaps as formidable a difficulty as any of those which are thrown in our teeth-and this we owe to Mr Canning.

In foreign policy, the first great matter of moment he had to grapple with was the French invasion of Spain. It will, I suppose, be scarcely denied, that in a great matter such as this, it behoved a British Minister to resolve upon, and execute, a line of policy, that should be direct to one point or the other, without twisting, or turning, or sly manoeuvre; no Foreign Minister, under the Duke of Wellington, would be suffered to adopt any thing else; yet let us see how the Minister of that time, who is so much lauded now, at the expense of the present Ministry, proceeded. He made sundry very clever and very witty speeches, explanatory of the necessity of our neutrality, yet, instead of being really neutral, he tells us, three years afterwards, that in order to make the gain to France as little as possible, he had resolved to dismember the empire of Spain; and rushing into a somewhat bombastic and unintelligible strain, he informs us, that he "called a new world into existence to redress the balance of the old."* This he was not ashamed to say, although he had previously boasted of having contributed to the freedom of the new world, purely through an abstract love of civil liberty and free constitutions, and although (which is the worst feature of the whole) he had written to the Spanish Minister a year and half before, that "the separation of the Spanish colonies was neither our work nor our wish." Can we wonder after this, that the respect for English policy is diminished on the Continent? May it not be true that, with nations as with individuals, honesty is the best policy? and if swerving from the high rule of honesty have weakened our influence on the Continent, is it with the Duke of Wellington the blame is to rest? No,but with Mr Canning. I shall not stop to inquire what advantage this country, or the old world, has gained, by this mighty achievement of calling a new world into existence. There are, however, some persons so unreasonable as to look at facts rather than speeches, who are of opinion that a parcel of Bankrupt States, plunged in