manners of an Irish peasant, as given by C. Sedley, in his Winter in Dublin." Lady LOUISA and Mrs. COLVILLE. "We have lost our way, good friend: can you assist us in finding it?" "Assist you in finding it, my lady? -Aye, by my faith and troth, and that I will, if it was to the world's end, and farther too." "We wish to return by the shortest way to the Black Rock." Indeed and you will, so please your ladyship's honour, and O'Callaghan's own self shall shew the way, and then you can't miss it, you know." "We would not wish to give you so much trouble, Mr. O'Callaghan." "It is never a trouble, so please you my lady, for an Irishman to do his duty." This sentence was accompanied by a bow and expression feelingly eloquent. This son of Hibernia might have been two-and-thirty-tall, robust, bis limbs combining strength with agility. His countenance was devoid of that ruddy flush of health, which distinguishes the English peasant; but his features were Jively and intelligent, although somewhat clouded by a black matted beard. His brogues depended upon the shilelah which crossed his shoulders; the upper part of his brawny legs were clothed in the ancient costume, which leaves the feet and ankles naked; aud a huge mantle buttoned across his breast with a characteristic skewer. "Whither do you travel, friend?" said Mrs. Colville. "To Dublin, so please you, my lady -Sure all the world knows that Judy O'Flannagan will be married to-morrow, to Pat Ryan; and Pat, you know, is my own foster brother-because why, we had but one nurse between us, and that was my mother-but she died one day-the Lord rest her sweet soul :and left me an orphan: for my father married again, and his new wife was the devil's own child, and did nothing but beat me from morning till night-Och, why didn't I die before I was born to see that day-for, by St. Patrick, the woman's heart was as hard, and as cold as a bail-stone." "But what reason could she have to treat you so unmercifully.” "Ah my lady, and sure enough, there are always reasons, as plenty as butter milk, for being hard-hearted; and I was no bigger than a dumplin at the time so I could not help myself; and my father did not care to help me; and so I hopped the twig; and parted old Nick's darling-Och, may the devil fire her wheresoever she goes.-But here I am alive, and leaping, and going to see Pat married; and faith, to dim justice, he's an honest lad as any within ten miles of us-and no disparagement neither and I love Pat, and I love all his family; aye, and by my soul I do, every mother's skin of them-and by the same token, I have travelled many a long mile to be present at his wedding." Your miles in Ireland are much longer than our's, I believe?" Indeed and you may believe that, my lady, because why, Saint Patrick measured them in his coach, you know -Oh, by the powers!-the time has been-but 'tis no matter, the devil a copper now belongs to one of the family -but, as I was saying, the day has been, aye by my troth and the night too, when the O'Callaghans, good luck to them, held up their heads as high as the best; and though I have not a rood of land belonging to me but what I hire-and that from an old flinty-hearted middleman-I love my king-and I love my country-and I love fighting-and the devil a Frenchman shall ever set foot on the sod, but I will lend a hand to plant him where he will never grow up again, but wither like an old stump." "Pray what age is the bride ?" "What age is she? Och, by my soul, my lady, she is a neat article-old enough to be a mother, and young enough to be a wife: then she will be rigged out as gay as a lark, and as fine as a peacock-because why, she has a great lady for her godmother long life and success to her-who has given Judy two milch cows, and five pounds in hard money-and Pat has taken as pretty apartments as any in Dublin-a neat, comely parlour, as you'd wish to see, just six foot under ground, with a nice, beautiful ladder to go down, and all so complete and genteel, and comfortable, as a body might say.' 66 Nothing like comfort, Mr. O'Callaghan." Faith, and you may say that, my lady"-rubbing his hands- -Comfort, says I to Mrs. O'Callaghan, when we are all seated so cleverly round a great big turf fire, passing the whiskey jug, and the pipe, as merry as grigs, with the dear little grunters snoring so sweetly in the corner; defying wind and weather with a dry thatch, and a sound conscience to go to sleep upon; Och, jewel, sure it's not the best beds that make the best sleepers; for there's Kathleen and myself sleep like two great big tops, and our bed is none of the softest-because why, we sleep on the ground, and have no bed at all at all." The Irish language is finely adapted to lyric poetry; it is very forcible and expressive. In the north-west and south-west counties of Ireland, the English language is scarcely known. In the county of Wexford, English language, habits, and customs, prevail universally, and the Irish language is quite forgotten. It was one of the first English settlements. In the north, you would hardly believe how little remains of Irish history, language, or customs. The revolutions it has undergone in consequence of forfeitures to the English, and the encroachments of the Scotch, have overturned every remnant of its original state. During the time that the English were endeavouring to extend the pale in every direction from the metropolis of the kingdom, over a desperate but disunited enemy, the Scottish clans of Mac Donalds, who by au intermarriage had got footing in Ireland, began their ravages on the northern coast of Antrim; and by the powerful support they received from Cantyre and the Western 'Isles of Scotland, established their dominions over a considerable tract of country. As the people of those days generally followed the fortunes of their chief, the greater part of the native Irish who survived those bloody scenes transplanted themselves elsewhere; while the Scots remained peaceable possessors of the field. Hence the old traditions of the country, its customs and manners, were entirely lost; and the few who speak the Celtic language at all, use a kind of mixed language, called here ScotchIrish, which is but imperfectly understood by the natives of either country. This part of Ireland, therefore, may in some measure be considered as a Scottish colony, and, in fact, Scotch dialect, Scotch manners, Scotch modes, and the Scotch character, almost universally prevail. Here the ardour of the true Irish constitution seems abated, if not chilled. Here the cead mile falta of Irish cordiality seldom lends its welcome home to the stranger's heart. The bright beams which illumine the gay images of Milesian fancy are extinguished; the convivial pleasures dear to the Milesian beart, scared at the prudential maxims of calculating interest, take fight to the warmer regions of the south. A mind not too much or too deeply affected or fascinated by the forid virtues, the warm overflowings of ge nerous and ardent qualities, will find in the Northerns of this island much to admire and more to esteem. They are an industrious thrifty race of people, generally speaking. They have a great deal of substantial civility, without much courtesy to relieve it and set it off to the best advantage. The bold ideas of rights and privileges which seem inseparable from their presbyterian church, renders them apt to be ungracious and unpleasing, especially to those who are acquainted with the warm, open, liberal, courteous, gracious manners of the Southerus of the island. On the whole, the middling and lower ranks of people in this northern quarter of the kingdom are a valuable part of the community; but one must estimate their worth as a miner often does his ore, rather by its weight than its splendor. Honey, or jellies, and eggs, are generally introduced at the Irish breakfasts. Their tables in general do not differ from our's. Potatoes as good as in England, and better drest-protest against their introduction to table in their brown great coats or skins. They dine late, and their dinners as well as breakfasts are bountiful. The inns in Ireland are in general indifferent, and some wretched; in several, one side is appropriated for a shop for the sale of groceries and whiskey. Dry lodgings, means lodging only, and no liquors. CABINS. An Irish cabin is, in general, like a little antediluvian ark; for hus band, wife, and children, cow and calf, pigs, poultry, dog, and frequently cat, repose under the same roof in perfect amity. Insufficiency of provision, which operales so powerfully in England against marriage, is not known or cared about in Ireland; there the want of an esta. blishment never affects the mind of the enamoured rustic. Love lingers only until he can find out a dry bank, pick a few sticks, collect some furze and fern, knead a little mud with straw, and raise a hut about six feet high, with a door to let in the light and let out the smoke; these accomplished, the sylvan pair, united by their priest, enter their sylvan dwelling, and a rapid race of chubby boys and girls soon proves by what scanty means life can be sustained and imparted. Four mud walls, with one entrance, and frequently without either a window or chimney, will, in a few words, describe the Irish hovel. Such was Gillo's habitation. "At one of the ends he keeps his cows, At th' other end he kept his spouse; On bed of straw, without least grumble, Nay with delight, did often tumble; Without partition, or a skreen, Or spreading curtain, drawn between, Without concern, exposed they lay. Because it was their country's way.' The rent of the cabins is from one to two guineas a year. To each cabin is attached about an acre of ground, which is cropped alternately with oats and potatoes, and sometimes a small portion of flax is added. With these supplies the cottier rests contented; the polatoes and oats afford him food for the year; and the flax is spun into linen by the female part of the family. The overplus of corn and potatoes serves to fatten a pig, which is generally sold to pay a part of the reat, the remainder of which is made up by manual labour; and thus all his real wants being supplied, the rest of his time is spent in total inactivity. Another part of the peasant's family deserves notice, his boys; by accustoming them from their infancy to run over a great deal of ground on errands, their limbs acquire a wonderfully strong and active degree. They will go inany miles quickly and punctually for a very small remuneration. The Irish dance with all their heart; and their jig is particularly calculated for the full indulgence of this national trait. It is not possible for an enthusiastic mind to look with indifference on this national sport; which is chaste as it is empassioned-devoid of eastern voluptuousness; yet glowing with ani mated sentiment. The affectionate regard which the Irish peasant feels for the memory of those dear to him in life, is indeed romantic, and almost incredible. A pas sion for enjoying a two-fold existence, independent of actual being; of tracing back genealogical honours, and anticipating a perpetuated life in the hearts of those they leave behind; is a passion incidental to the native Irish character of every rank. The attachment of the peasantry of Ireland to their family burying-places is boundless. Bodies are conveyed across the mountains for a great many miles, men, women, and children, following in multitudes. Such a concourse of people generally attends the cere mony of interment with cries and howlings, that would excite surprise, and wooder, and perhaps some little terror, in a stranger. (To be concluded in our next.) To the Editor of the European Magazine. SIR, T has been a common practice, from taste of us cits, especially in building and laying out our country boxes. I am happy, however, now to be able to give you an example of the taste of a gentleman at the west end of the town, which, I hope, will save us in future from the jokes of our neigh bours in that quarter. You must know, Sir, that spousy and I, on a fine Sunday, take a walk as far as Kensington Gardens, generally going out the Uxbridge road, and returning by Kensington, where we dine or take tea, and sometimes both, if the first stages are full, and the day fine. Till last Sunday we have not ventured to make this excursion since Sunday the 24th of October last (I recollect the day well, one of John Piper's bills having been dishonoured on Saturday the 23d inst. though payable at the Bank of England). At that time I was attracted by the walls of a very large building, and walking for ward, was duly informed, by a right natly Maltese cross in cast iron, let into a brick wall, that I was at St. Petersburg-place. I entered a narrow lane, and walked to the other end; but as St. Petersburg-place has never been heard of in Cheapside, I shall describe its situation, so as it may be found by the curious city traveller, who may venture into outlandish parts. It is bounded on the south by a brick wall, surmounted by a lamp and the King's arms; on the west, by a fence with There cotta in the centre. This is a gravelled So much for the house; and I must pursue the same mode with the garden: for I suppose it would puzzle Mr. Repton, or the Surveyor-general, to make a plan of it. It contains all sorts of walks, in all sorts of directions; a pollard oak-tree, with a turf seat below; a winding stair, and a small summerhouse above; King Charles crowned, and seated in the summer house. Another summer-house contains the drawings and models of Mr. Pilton's shop for rural improvements. Three mahogany summer-houses formed of the ventilators called Eolians, which belonged to the ingenious, but unfortanate, Mr. Deacon, of Red-lion-square. It contains, besides, an oval pond, a square ditto, a dragon, a dolphin, a jet d'eau, a dial, a ciòder rock-work, a brick ditto, a straight wall, and a mud or turf ditto; and, to crown all, the summit of the Temple of Concord placed on an artificial hill or mount. towers, columns, and other ornaments, which once formed part of the celebrated Temple of Concord and Victory in the Green Park; on the east, it joins Russian-place, at present a brick-field with two mud cabins, and Moscow-row, a dirty lane; and on the north, it terminates in Lion-house, the residence of the proprietor. The extent of this unique scene may be three acres. I shall now attempt to describe Lion-house, though I must forewarn my readers not to expect to find it the same should they make a journey to see it, as it has not only been entirely metamorphosed since I saw it in October last, but has even changed its name, being now St. Petersburg Cottage, and, I am told, is every day undergoing some improvement. In October last, it had a triumphal arch nearly as highly as the house, surmounted by the Lion which Mr. Folsch, the inventor of the manifold-writer, used for a sign, before Mr. Nash pulled down his house; and a high pannelled brick wall concealed the entrance door from the road; now there is an open iron railing, and the arch and lion is removed. The lion has had his tail broke, but notwithstanding has found a mate, and both are now placed on old window cills in the garden, as the guardians of a certain commonly made and diminutive edifice, but here a principal parterre. I will not attempt to give you an idea of the house as a whole, for that is absolutely impossible without a drawing, but I shall tell you what each part separately contains, beginning with the entrance front, and at the roof, which is slate, with a Chinese cornice from the aforementioned jubilee buildings; below are six stucco bas-reliefs, a Grecian uitch with a Venus, a Gothic bracket with a vase and a lamp, a peacock over the door, and transparencies in all the windows: against the west front leans a green-house, composed of all sorts of old windows; some wood, others iron or copper, some with green, others with plate glass; there is the bow-front of a shop, a circular skylight of ground, and a Gothic fan light of stained glass, from Dimond's, late haberbasher (now bankrupt) in Dukestreet: the north, or principal, front has an immense varandah, and a cornice that once adorned Mr. Pilton's shop, called the Garden Gate, in New Bond-street. Beautiful idea! Two hen coops are at one end, a form at the Your neighbour and fellow wardsman, other, and the Apollo Belvidere in terra Is not all this curious, Mr. Editor? Yes! Well then, I shall not describe the Chapel of St. Peter, nor half-adozen buildings finished by the proprietor to encourage settlers. They will puzzle Mr. Soane and Mr. Wyat, and frighten away even so tasteless a citizen as your humble servant. I was surprised to find that the proprietor of this place is an opulent and respectable man, who must have some literature, since he is a licensed preacher, and who ought to have a good taste, since he deals, and that extensively, in p****s and e********s What a strange perversity of mind must that man have, who nurtured in the midst of beauty can relish only deformity! Or is it, Mr. Editor, that too much beauty becomes tiresome, and drives us to ugliness for relief? Or is taste, according to the old doctrine of Hutcheson and Gerrard, a facully of the mind, and altogether wanting to our master-builder?-Pray go and see this scene, and try to account for it. -telum sine iclú ROBERT TWOGOOD. i MEMOIR OF PATRICK COLQUHOUN, Esq. LL.D. (Continued from page 310.) Nam merenti gratias agere, facile est, Patres Conscripti, non enim periculum est, ne quum loquor de humanitate, exprobrari sibi superbiam credat ; quum de frugalitate, luxuriam; quum de clementia, cru delitatem; quum de liberalitate, avaritiám ; quum de benignitate, livorem; quum de continentia, libidinem; quum de labore, inertiam; quum de fortitudine, timorem. PLINIUS de Trajano. N TOTWITHSTANDING the exertions which were made in the years 1795 and 1796, Mr. Colquhoun still found, in 1797, that much distress prevailed: he therefore aided, as we have already hinted, the design of distributing cheap and wholesome soup to the deserving poor in the eastern district of London, where he then resided and thus he was the means of affording relief to several thousand individuals. At the close of this year, he availed himself of the charitable and benevolent spirit which prevails among the peaceful and exemplary society of Quakers, whose Christian-like efforts he continued to assist in laying the foundation of the great Soup-houses in Spitalfields, Clerkenwell, and St. George's; the beneficial effects of which were greatly felt in the scarcity which prevailed. While Mr. Colquhoun was thus actively employed in his civil capacity, both as a Magistrate and as a friend to the poor, the University of Glasgow (to the town he had been, as we have already seen, a great benefactor) was not unmindful of his literary merit, for they this year voluntarily conferred upon him the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws, signed by all the Professors of the University. The very honorable and potent reasons given for this proceeding by the Professors, renders it an act of justice that the diploma should be subjoined. "Omnibus has literas visuris Senatus Academiæ Glasguensis Cum nobis succurrit de eximio viro Patricio Colquhoun, Armigero, qui Primarium olim, in hac nostra civitate Magistratum magna cum laude gessit, et postea per complures hos annos, gravissimum, Regii Pacis Curatoris vel Justiciarii, munus apud Londinenses exple vit et adhuc feliciter et magno cum Europ. Mag. Vol. LXXIII. May 1818. Civium commodo explet, nos, virum egregium tamdiu Legum Interpretem integerrimum et acerrimum vindicem omnius dignum judicavimus, qui summis, in Jure et Legibus, houoribus Academicis insigniatur: Noverint itaque omnes homines quorum nôsse interest, nos ipsum Patricium Colquhoun, Armigerum fecisse, creasse, constituisse Juris Legumque Doctorem et Magistrum, prout hisce præsentibus nostris literis eum Juris Legumque Doctorem creavimus, constituimus, et renunciamus ; eique omnes Dignitates, Immunitates, et Privilegia concedimus, quibus Juris Doctores ubivis terrarum gaudere solent. In quorum fidem his literis, communi Universitatis Sigillo munitis, no, mina nostra subscripsimus. ARCHD. DAVIDSON, Vice Canc. et GULIELMUSLOCKHART, FF. Decanus, H. MACLEOD, Hist. Prof. } In 1798, Mr. Colquhoun removed his residence to Westminster, in consequence of being appointed a Magis trate of Queen-square Office: and here the same vigilant benevolence for the sufferings of the poor tracked his progress, and his removal was not one to ease and idle tranquillity; and indeed such a state would be painful to one whose spirit always delights to luxu riate in the promotion of virtuous industry. He here found, in the popu lous parishes of the liberty of Westminster, the same distresses prevailing as in the Eastern district: and by an appeal to the efficient humanity of the inhabitants, he was enabled to extend the benefit of a Soup House to this district of the metropolis. These weighty and useful efforts soon attracted the attention of Government; and Mr. Colquhoun, at the close of the year 1799, at the request of the Privy Council, bestowed much of his valuable time in forming Soup houses for 3 G |