Oh, murther!' sed Paudeen, why didn't you come an hour sooner? I'm afraid the meat is all cowld, we waited so long for ye.'

Och, don't make any bones about it,' sed St Bridget : ' it's a cowld stummock can't warm its own mait.'

'In troth that's thrue enough,' sed Paudeen; ‘but I fear there isn't enough for so many."

Why, ye set of cormorals,' sed she, 'have ye swallied the whole ninety-nine oxen that ye kilt yestherday?'

'Oh, blessed hour!' groaned the king to himself, how did she know that? Och, I suppose she knows I'm here too.' 'Oh, bad scran to me!' said Paudeen, but we had the best and fattest keepin' for you, but he ran away.'

In troth you needn't tell me that,' sez she; I know all about yer doings. If I'm sent away without my dinner itself, I must see the king.'

Just as she sed this, a hiccup seized the king, so loud that it reached the great hall. The guests, who war all silent by the king's order, thought he sed hip, hip!-so. Such a shout, my jewel, as nearly frightened the saint away.

.

In troth,' sez she, I'd be very sorry to venthur among such a set of riff-raff, any way. But who's this behind the door?' sez she, cockin' her eye. Oh, I beg pardon !—I hope no inthrusion there ye are ye'll save me the trouble ov goin' in.'

'Oh,' sed the king (hic), 'I tuck a little sick in my stummock, and came down to get fresh air. I beg pardon. Why didn't you come in time to dinner?'

'I want no dinner,' said she; ́ I came to speak on affairs ov state.' 'Why, thin,' said the king, before ye state them, ye must come in and take a bit in yer fingers, at any rate.'

In troth,' sez she, I was always used to full and plenty, and not any scrageen bits; and to think ov a king's table not having a flaugooloch meal, is all nonsense: that's like the taste ov ground I axt ye for some time ago.'

Begor, sur, when she sed that, she gev him such a start that the hiccough left him.

Ah, Biddy, honey,' sez he, shure ye wor only passin' a joke to cure me: say no more-it's all gone.'

Just as he sed this, he heard a great shout at a distance: out he pulled his specks, an' put them on his nose; when to his joy he saw a whole crowd ov spalpeens dhrivin' the ox before them. The king, forgettin' who he was spaikin' to, took off his caubeen, and began to wave it, as he ran off to meet them.

"Oh! mahurpendhoul, but ye're brave fellows,' sez he; whoever it was that cotch him shall have a commission in my life guards. I never wanted a joint more. Galong, every mother's son ov yees, and borry all the gridirons and fryingpans ye can get. Hand me the axe, till I have some steaks tost up for a few friends.'

So, my jewel, while ye'd say thrap-stick, the ox was down, an' on the gridirons before the life was half out ov him.

Well, to be shure, St Bridget got mighty hungry, as she had walked a long way. She then tould the king that the gentlemen should lave the room, as she could not sit with any one not in ordhers, and they being a little out ov ordher. So, to make themselves agreeable to her ordhers, they quit the hall, and went out to play at hurdles.

When the king recollected who he was goin' to give dinner to, sez he to himself, 'Shure no king ought to be above sarvin' a saint.' So over he goes to his wife the queen.

'Dorah,' sez he, do ye know who's within?' ' Why, to be shure I do,' sez she; ain't it Bridheen na Keogue?' Ye're right,' sez he, and you know she's a saint; an' I think it will be for the good ov our sowls that she kem here to-day. Come, peel off yer muslins, and help me up wid the

dinner.'

In troth I'll not,' sez the queen; shure ye know I'm a black Prospitarian, an' bleeve nun ov yer saints.'

'Arrah, nun ov yer quare ways,' sez he: don't you wish my sowl happy, any how?-an' if you help me, you will be only helpin' my sowl to heaven.'

Oh, in that case,' sez she, ‘here's at ye, and the sooner the betther. But one charge I'd give ye: take care how ye open yer claub about ground: ye know she thought to come round ye twice before.

'Arrah, Biddy, honey,' sez he, why don't ye help yerself?" 'Why, thin,' sez she, 'the dhoul a bit, bite or sup, I'll take undher yer roof until ye grant me one favour.'

And what is that?' sez the king; shure ye know a king must stand to his word was it half his kingdom, and how do I know but ye want to chouse me out of it: let me know. first what ye want.'

Well, thin, Mr King O'Dermot,' sez she, all I want is a taste ov ground to sow a few pays in.'

'Well, an' how much do ye want, yer reverence,' sez he, all over ov a thrimble, betune his wife's dark looks, and the curse he expected from Bridget if he refused.

'Not much,' sez she, for the present. You don't know how I'm situated. All the pilgrims going to Lough Dhearg are sent to me to put the pays in their brogues, an' ye know I havn't as much ground as would sow a pint; but if ye only give me about fifty acres, I'll be contint."

Fifty acres roared the king, stretching his neck like a

goose.

Fifty acres !' roared the queen, knitting her brows; shure that much ground would fill their pockets as well as their brogues.' There ye're out ov it,' said the saint; why, it would'nt be half enough if they got their dhue according to their sins; but I'll lave it to yerself.' How much will ye give?' Not an acre,' said the queen. 'Oh, Dorah,' sed the king, 'let me give the crathur some.' Not an inch,' sed the queen, if I'm to be misthress here.' 'Oh, I beg pardon,' sez the saint; 'so, Mr King O'Dermot, you are undher petticoat government I see; but maybe I won't match ye for all that. Now, take my word, you shall go on penance to Lough Dhearg before nine days is about; and instead ov pays ye shall have pebble stones and swan shot in yer brogues. But it's well for you, Mrs Queen, that ye're out ov my reach, or I'd send you there barefooted, with nothing on but yer stockings.'

When the king heard this, he fell all ov a thrimble. Oh, Dorah,' sez he, give the crathur a little taste ov ground to satisfy her.'

No, not as much as she could play ninepins on,' sez she, shakin' her fist and grindin' her teeth together; and I hope she may send you to Lough Dhearg, as she sed she would.'

Why, thin, have ye no feeling for one ov yer own sex?' sez the saint. I'll go my way this minit, iv ye only give me as much as my shawl will cover.'

Oh, that's a horse ov another colour,' sez the queen; 'you may have that, with a heart and a half. But you know very well if I didn't watch that fool ov a man, he'd give the very nose off his face if a girl only axt him how he was.' Well, sur, when the king heard this, he grew as merry as a cricket. 'Come, Biddy,' sez he, we mustn't have a dhry bargain, any how.'

Oh, I intirely forgot that,' sez she. Well, then, for fear ye'd say I was a bad fellow, I'll just taste. Shedhurdh.' Well, sur, after the dhough-an-dheris she went home very well pleased that she was to get ever a taste ov ground at all, and she promised the king to make his pinance light, and that she would boil the pays for him, as she did with young men ov tendher conshinses; but as to ould hardened sinners, she'd keep the pays till they'd be as stale as a sailor's bisket.

Well, to be shure, when she got home she set upwards ov a hundhred nuns at work to make her shawl, during which time she was never heard of. At last, afther six months' hard labour, they got it finished.

Now, sez she, it's time I should go see the king, that he may come and see that I take no more than my right. So, taking no one with her barrin' herself and one nun, off she set. The king and queen were just sitting down to tay at the parlour window when she got there.

'Whoo! talk of the dhoul and he'll appear,' sez he. Why, thin, Biddy honey, it's an age since we saw ye. Sit down; we're just on the first cup. Dorah and myself were afther talkin' about ye, an' thought ye forgot us intirely. Well, did ve take that bit ov ground?'

• Indeed I'd be very sorry to do the likes behind any one's back. You must come to-morrow and see it measured.'

Not I, 'pon my sowkins,' sed the king: 'do ye think me so mane as to doubt yer word?'

'Pho! pho!' sed the queen, such a taste is not worth talkin' ov; but, just to honour ye, we shall attind in state to-morrow. Sit down.'

She took up her station betune the king an' queen: the purty side ov her face was next the king, an' the ugly side next the queen.

'I can't be jealous ov you, at any rate,' sed the queen to herself, as she never saw her veil off before.

Oh, murther!' sez the king, what a pity ye're a saint, and Dorah to be alive. Such a beauty!'

Just as he was starin', the queen happened to look over at a looking-glass, in which she saw Biddy's pretty side.

Hem!' sez she, sippin' her cup. 'Dermot,' sez she, 'it's very much out ov manners to be stuck with ladies at their tay. Go take a shaugh ov the dhudheen, while we talk over some affairs ov state."

Begor, sur, the king was glad ov the excuse to lave them together, in the hopes St Bridget would convart his wife.

Well, sur, whatever discoorse they had, I disremember, but the queen came down in great humour to wish the saint good night, an' promised to be on the road the next day to Kildare.

'Faix,' sez the saint, I was nigh forgettin' my gentility to wish the king good night. Where is he?'

Augh, and shure myself doesn't know, barrin' he's in the kitchen.'

Oh! is that the way with him?-never fear: I'll make his pinance purty sharp for that. At any rate call him out an' let us part in friends.'

So, sur, afther all the compliments wor passed, the king sed he should go see her a bit ov the road, as it was late: so off he went. The moon had just got up, an' he walked alongside the saint at the ugly side; but when he looked round to praise her, an' pay her a little compliment, he got sich a fright that he'd take his oath it wasn't her at all, so he was glad to get back to the queen.

Well, sur, next morning the queen ordhered the long car to be got ready, with plenty ov clean straw in it, as in those times they had no coaches; then regulated her life guards, twelve to ride before and twelve behind, the king at one side and the chief butler at the other, for without the butler she couldn't do at all, as every mile she had to stop the whole retinue till she'd get refreshment. In the meantime, St Bridget placed her nuns twenty-one miles round the Curragh. At last the thrumpet sounded, which gave notice that the king was coming. As soon as they halted, six men lifted the queen up on the throne, which they brought with them on the long car. The king ov coorse got up by her side.

'Well, Dorah,' sez he in a whisper, what a laugh we'll have at Biddy, with her shawl!'

'I don't know that neither,' sez the queen. It looks as thick as Finmocool's boulsther, as it hangs over her shoulder.' 'God save yer highness,' sed the saint, as she kem up to them. Why, ye sted mighty long. I had a snack ready for ye at one o'clock.'

6

Och, it's no matther,' sez the queen; measure yer bit ov ground, and we then can have it in comfort.'

So with that St Bridget threw down her shawl, which she had cunningly folded up.

net.

an' in a minnit ye'd think a haul ov nuns wor cotched in the 'Oh, millia murther!' sez the queen, she's stretchin' it over my daughter's ground.'

Oh, blud-an'-turf!' sez the king, 'now she's stretchin' It over my son's ground. Galong, ye set ov thaulabawns,' sed he to his life-guards; galong, I say, an' stop her, else she'll cover all my dominions."

"Oh fie, yer honour,' sez the chief butler; if you break yer word, I'm not shure ov my wages.'

Well behould ye, sur, in less than two hours Saint Bridget had the whole Curragh covered.

'Now see what a purty kittle of fish you've made ov it!' sez the queen.

No, but it's you, Mrs Queen O'Dermot, 'twas you agreed

to this.'

Well, Dorah, never mind; if she makes a hole, I have a peg for it. Now, Biddy,' sez he, though I gave ye the ground, I forgot to tell ye that I only give it for a certain time. I now tell ye from this day forward you shall only have it while ye keep yer fire in.'

Here I lost the remainder of his discourse by my ill manners. I got so familiar with Mr Mowlds, and so interested with his story, that I forgot my politeness.

"And what about the fire, PAT?" said I, without consideration.

Before I could recollect the offence, he turned on me with the eyes of a maniac_

"The dhoul whishper nollege into your ear. Pat!—(hum) -Pat!-Pat!-this is freedom, with all my heart."

So saying, he strode away, muttering something between his teeth. However, I hope again to meet him, when I shall be a little more cautious in my address.

THE ELECTROTYPE.

AN elaborate and very lucid article on the Electrotype and Daguerreotype, being a review of "An Account of Experiments in Electricity made by Thomas Spencer-Annals of Electricity, January 1840," and of the account of M. Daguerre's discovery of Photogenic Drawing as published by himself, has appeared in that excellent work The Westminster Review" for September. Our space not allowing us to enter so fully into details as our admirable contemporary, we present our readers with as concise an article as the nature of the subject will permit, confining ourselves for the present to the Electrotype, as being less generally known, though not less curious.

The electrotype is another instance of the application of invisible elements to the uses of man, by which powers and influences, of whose nature he is as yet wholly ignorant, are made subservient to his purposes, and obedient to his rule.

To define accurately what electricity is, would be, as yet at least, impossible. Many conjectures have been, are, and will be hazarded, but the knowledge of its production, power, and effects, is only in its infancy, and so full of promise of a gigantic growth, that time will be better spent in its cultivation than in debating upon what it is.

Well, sur, as I sed afore, she threw it on the ground.

• Here, Judy Conway, run to Biddy Conroy with this corner, an' let her make aff in the direckshin ov Kildare, an' be shure she runs the corner into the mon'stery. Here, you, Nelly Murphy, make off to Kilcullen; an' you, Katty Farrel, away with you to Ballysax; an' you, Nelly Doye, away to Arthgarvan; an' you, Rose Regan, in the direckshin of Connell; an' you, Ellen Fogarty, away in the road to Maddenstown; an' you, Jenny Purcel, away to Airfield. Just hand it from one to t'other.'

So givin' three claps ov her hand, off they set like hounds,

matter-of-fact philosophers have addressed themselves to its application; and whilst some of these devote themselves to the developement of its motive powers, in the well-founded hope of its superseding steam, others press its services to far different uses. Amongst the last, Mr Spencer holds a foremost place.

Before entering into the description of the electrotype, we must say a few words on the subject of electricity to the less informed of our readers. The electric fluid, as it is called, may be produced in various ways: the most ordinary is by the friction of glass against silk, as exemplified in the electrical machine, which is familiar to almost every one. But galvanic and voltaic electricity is differently produced. In all cases its production is the consequence of combination,

fitly they appear to take them up, and the more firmly they adhere; whilst on the contrary, if the operation be hurried, the metal is brittle, so much so as sometimes to powder under an ordinary pressure. The thicker and finer the partition of plaster between the two fluids, the more slightly are they connected, and con equently the slower is the circulation of the electricity. The proper length of time to be allowed for the process varies according to the nature of the work, and the strength or solidity required. Forty-eight hours seems to be the least time for forming a design in relief, and somewhat more than a week for a plate with sunk lines.

The laws which govern matter are mysterious. The entire of this process is so wonderful, that to descant upon it would be unnecessary; and, after all, it is but another step taken upon the path of science, each advance upon which, whilst disclosing new scenes and greater wonders, is only the needful preliminary to another which will display yet more!

THE FIELD OF KUNNERSDORF. (FROM THE GERMAN OF TIEDGE.)

Day is exiled from the bowers of Twilight;
Leaf and flower are drooping in the wood;
And the stars, as on a dark-stained skylight,
Glass their ancient glory in the flood.

N.

Let me here, where nightwinds through the yew sing,
Where the moon is chary of her beams,
Consecrate an hour to mournful musing

Over Man and Man's delirious dreams.
Pines and yews! envelope me in deeper,
Dunner shadow, sombre as the grave,
While with moans, as of a troubled sleeper,
Gloomily above my head ye wave!

Let mine eye look down from hence on yonder
Battle-plain, which Night in pity dulls—
Let my sad imagination ponder

Over Kunnersdorf, that Place of Skulls !
Dost thou re-illume these wastes, O Summer?
Hast thou raised anew thy trampled bowers?
Will the wild bee come again a hummer

Here, within the houses of thy flowers?
Can thy sunbeams light, thy mild rains water
This Aceldema, this human soil,

Since that dark day of redundant slaughter
When the blood of men flowed here like oil?
Ah, yes! Nature, and Thou, God of Nature,
Ye are ever bounteous !-Man alone,
Man it is whose frenzies desolate your

World, and make it in sad truth his own!
Here saw Frederick fall his bravest warriors-
Master of thy World, thou wert too great!
Heaven had need to stablish curbing-barriers
'Gainst thine inroads on the World of Fate!
O, could all thy coronals of splendour

Dupe thy memory of that ghastly day?
Could the Muses, could the Gracest render
Smooth and bright a corse-o'ercovered way?
No! the accusing blood-gouts ever trickle

Down each red leaf of thy chaplet crown!
Men fell here, as corn before the sickle,

Fell, to aggrandise thy false renown!
Here the veteran drooped beside the springald,
Here sank Strength and Symmetry in line-
Here crushed Hope and gasping Valour mingled,
And, Destroyer, the wild work was thine!
What and wherefore is this doom funereal?
Whence this Tide of Being's flow and ebb?
Why rends Destiny the fine material

Of Existence's divinest web?
Vainly ask we!-Dim age calls to dim age-
Answer, save an echo, cometh none-
Here stands Man, of Life in Death an image,
There, invisibly, The Living One!
Storm-clouds lour and muster in the Distance-
While, begirt with wrecks by sea and land,

A village near Frankfort on the Oder, in which Frederick the Great was

Time, upon the far shore of Existence,
Counts each wavedrop swallowed by the sand.
Generation chases generation,

Downbowed by the same tremendous yoke-
No cessation, and no explication-
Birth-Life-Death;-the Stillness-Flash-and
Smoke!

Here, then, Frederick, formidable Sovereign!
Here in presence of these whitened bones,
Swear at length to cherish Peace, and govern
So, that Men may learn to reverence Thrones!
O! repudiate bloodbought fame, and hearken
To the myriad witness-voicéd Dead,
Ere the Sternness‡ shall lay down to darken
In the Silentness thy crownless head!
Shudder at the dire phantasmagory

Of the Slain who perished here by thee,
And abhor all future wreaths of glory
Gathered from the baleful cypress-tree!
Lofty souls disdain or dread the laurel
Hero is a poor exchange for Man;
Adders lurk in green spots: such the moral
Taught by History since her school began.
Cæsar slain, the victim of his trophies,
Bayazeeds expiring in his cage,

All the Cæsars, all the sabre-Sophies,
Preach the same sad homily each age.
One drugged winecup dealt with Alexander,
And his satraps scarce had shared afresh
Half the empires of the World-Commander,
Ere the charnel-worms had shared his flesh.
Though the rill roll down from Life's green mountain
Bright through festal dells of youthful days,
Soon the waters of that glancing fountain

In the Vale of Years must moult its rays.
There the pilgrim, on the bridge that, bounding
Life's domain, frontiers the wolds of Death,
Startled, for the first time hears resounding
From Eternity a Voice which saith-

"ALL WHICH IS NOT PURE SHALL MELT AND WITHER— LO! THE DESOLATOR'S ARM IS BARE,

AND WHERE MAN IS, TRUTH SHALL TRACE HIM
THITHER,

BE HE CURTAINED ROUND WITH GLOOM OR GLARE.
M.

We have a mortal aversion to fine lads. And, wherefore, pray? Why, because in nine cases out of ten, if not positively in every case, they are the dullest and most insipid of all human beings: they are good, inoffensive creatures, certainly, but oh, they are dreadful bores! If you doubt it, just you take an hour of a fine lad's company, with nobody present but yourselves. Shut yourself up in a room with him for that space of time, and if you don't ever after, as long as you live, stand in dread and awe of the society of fine lads, you must be differently constituted from other men, and amongst other rare gifts must possess that of being bore-proof.

But, pray, what after all is a fine lad? To the possession of what quality or qualities is he indebted for this very amiable sort of character?

Why, these are questions which, like many others, are much more easily put than answered. But, speaking from our own knowledge and experience, we should say that it is not the presence, but the absence-the entire absence of every quality, good, bad, and indifferent, that constitutes the fine lad; and hence his intolerable insipidity.

The fine lad is a blank, a cipher, a vacuum, a nonentity, a ring without a circumference, a footless stocking without a leg. In disposition he is neither sweet, sour, nor bitter; in temper, neither hot nor cold; in spirit, neither merry nor sad. He is in fact, so far as any thing positive can be said of him, a mere concentration of negatives. In person he is neither long nor short, neither fat nor lean, neither stout nor slender. There must in short be a total absence of all meaning, all

times.

An allusion to Frederick's literary pursuits

body will agree in calling a fine lad."