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cially of Irish anecdote. He seemed anxious to make everyone about him happy, and poured forth all kinds of jests with inimitable point; not apparently so much for the sake of being agreeable, nor because he told his stories with a natural raciness and humour that I have seldom seen equalled, as because he seemed to take the heartiest possible delight in them himself. He spoke with the enthusiasm of a youth of nineteen of the evermemorable debates in the Irish Parliament in the times of Grattan, Curran, and Flood ; and, remarka ing upon the number of men of extraordinary talent who flourished about that period, and their extreme rarity since, seemed to be of opinion that one of the most lamentable effects of the Union was the manner in which it appeared to operate to the destruction and annihilation of all Irish genius. He had the most intense admiration of Grattan, and told several amusing stories of him which I had not heard before. One of them I cannot omit noticing, as it related to Mr. Moore himself, and was one he took a very justifiable pride in. In his younger days, though after he had been already favourably known to the world, he happened one day to be in Mr. Grattan's company at the house of a mutual friend. Grattan was holding forth, with some sharpness, on the servility of literary men, and the manner in which they almost universally prostituted their talents to the great and powerful. He appeared at first to ex clude no one from this sweeping censure; but suddenly recollecting himself he continued, but I'm wrong; there are some exceptions ;' and turning to Mr. Moore, who stood near him, and patting him kindly on the shoulder, he said to those he had been addressing, "I'm wrong; my young friend here is one who'—he paused a moment, and then added emphatically—' who wears his hat before the king.'
“ He mentioned another incident which I may just speak of, as it serves to show the feeling with which Irish interests are frequently regarded in England, even by those who profess liberal opinions. At a Reform dinner, given, I believe, in Bath, to the Marquis of Lansdowne, Mr. Moore's health having been drunk, he rose to return thanks, and was received with a good deal of enthusiasm. On such occasions as these his country was never forgotten, and he ventured in the progress of his speech, though cautiously, to make some allusion to it. England,' said he, in one of his happy illustrations, will not permit so large a segment of her orb as Ireland to remain for ever shrouded in darkness.' He expected this sentiment to awaken a few cheers of sympathy; but there was immediately a dead silence, as if he had said something very disagreeable. It was evident he had entered upon forbidden ground, and that he could not venture further in that direction with safety. He therefore sounded a retreat as quickly as possible, and slipping gently into some cther subject, restored harmony to the hearts of his hearers. He could not, however, avoid feeling some degree of surprise at such a result; and after he sat down, be asked of some person who sat next him, a stranger, what could be the reason that sentiment about Ireland was received with such coldness? "Ah, Sir !' said the other, *Irishmen and pigs are very unpopular all along this line.'
It was singular, though I could perceive that Gerald enjoyed himself very much during the evening, and though the gaiety and freedom of Mr. Moore's manner were calculated to put all kinds of formality to flight, he could not shake off that constitutional timidity and reserve which was so apt to assail him before strangers; he did, it is true, take a part in what was going forward, yet he did not, as he would have done on a little further acquaintance, fling himself into it with all his heart. It is evident that nothing could tend more effectually to lessen the interest of his conversation than the existence of any such feeling, yet I think Mr. Moore, though he could not perhaps distinguish all the light that was hidden, had too much penetration not to see pretty fully into his character; for,
our visit next day, when we chatted over the proceedings of the evening, and Mrs. Moore said, • But did you observe * * * last night, what wild spirits he was in, and how he did talk? Why I thought he was mad! I never saw anything like him.' • Oh !' said Mr. Moore, don't you know the meaning of that? That was'-he continued, turning playfully to Gerald, and darting his finger towards him with a good-natured smile, that was in order to get you to talk.' Gerald seemed rather taken aback by the suddenness of this gentle little reproach, but made no reply.
“ We slept in a double-bedded room in the Castle Inn at Devizes, and before finally closing our eyes, spoke of the adventures of the day. Gerald, as he laid his head upon the pillow, said, 'Well, nothing astonishes me more than the greatness of the change that has come over me. I remember the time when the bare idea—the very thought of spending such a day as this with Moore would have thrown me into such a fever, that there would not be the least chance of my sleeping a wink all night; yet now I have seen him, and have spent an enchanting day with him, and yet I can lie down, not only with the most perfect certainty of delicious rest, but with a degree of calmness and quiet that I am myself astonished at.' Notwithstanding this declaration, it is curious to observe with what a glowing and rapturous feeling he describes this visit to Mr. Moore, in a letter written some time after to a friend."
MOORE IN IRELAND IN 1835 AND 1838.
In 1835 Moore visited Dublin in order to take part in the proceedings of the British Association, which body assembled that year in the Irish metropolis. He attended several of the sectional meetings.
On Saturday the 15th August he visited the theatre, the performances having been selected at his particular desire.
To say that he was warmly and enthusiastically received, is almost unnecessary. All party animosities were forgotten in admiration of the genius of the man, and he was hailed by the united acclamations of one of the most brilliant and fashionable assemblages of the season. On being loudly called on after the play, Moore descended from the private box which he at first occupied, and took his seat amongst his friends in the front row of the dress circle. The applause which had followed his first appearance was now renewed with ten-fold force, amid cries of "off, off,” (to the stage) "speak, speak" (to Moore's box), and "hear, hear all through the theatre. Seeing that it was useless to oppose the general wish, Moore rose and bowed to the audience and said he regretted he was so hoarse from the effect of a recent cold, that he could not acknowledge the flattering kindness of his fellowcountrymen in the manner he wished, or as he deeply felt it merited; however, he trusted they would all give him credit for appreciating to the fullest extent the distinguished honour which they had that night conferred upon him-an honour which he could never forget, and one which was rendered doubly valuable from the intelligence and high intellectual character of those who surrounded him.
Moore soon afterwards paid a visit to the historic County of Wexford, which was the native county of his mother. While there, he proceeded to “The Grange," at Bannow, the residence of his honoured friend, Mr. Thomas Boyse, a country gentleman deservedly esteemed as a kind landlord.
It is difficult without having been a witness of the touching and magnificent spectacle which his truly triumphal entry into Bannow-as he styled it himself--presented, to form even a faint idea of
Everything seemed to have conspired to give interest and eclat to the imposing event.
Having entered the district of Bannow, the carriage of the bard was stopped, and it was respectfully intimated to him that another was prepared to carry him to the Grange. It was an open one, gaily and tastefully decorated with arches of laurel boughs, festooned with flowers of every kind and of