the acquisition of property than in its possession. How often does the rich man, surrounded with every luxury, look back from the pinnacle which he has attained, with fond regret, to those days of humble but happy toil when he was struggling up the steep ascent of fortune! Make industry, then, a part of fireside education. Teach it to your children as a point of duty; render it familiar to them by practice. Personal exertion and ready activity are natural to some children, and these hardly need any stimulus to the performance of duties requiring bodily exertion. There are others who have an indolence, a reluctance to move, either uniform or periodical, in their very constitution. If neglected, these children will grow up in the habit of omitting many duties, or of performing, only those which are agreeable. It is indispensable that such should be trained to patient exertion, habituated to the performance of every duty in the right time and the right way, even though it may require self-denial and onerous toil. A person who cannot compel himself, from a mere sense of duty, to overcome a slothful reluctance to do what is disagreeable, is but half educated, and carries about him a weakness that is likely to prove fatal to his success in life. Such a person may act vigorously by fits and starts as he may be occasionally urged by impulse; but the good begun will often remain unfinished, and, from subsequent negligence, will result in final disaster. The only safe way is to found industry upon principle, and establish it by habit. While, therefore, I would inculcate industry, I would remark that it may be carried to excess. Every virtue has its bordering vice. The extreme of courage touches upon the precincts of rashness, and a step beyond the proper limit of industry brings you into the dreary regions of avarice.-Fireside Education, by S. G. Goodrich, an Ameri can Author. THE SABBATH.-Nature always seemed to me to "keep Sabbath" in the wilderness. I, used to fancy that the wild birds were more quiet on that day,, sitting on the branches with their heads under their wings, smoothing their plumage, or looking quietly about them, and sometimes venturing a faint warble, scarcely above a whisper. And I have seen a large wolfish animal stand for hours upon a dry log, on the bank of the river, contemplating the stream, or gazing into the air; once or twice, perhaps, starting suddenly a few paces, but then halting as if he had given up the idea; and his tail all the while hanging listlessly down, as if indicating that no enterprise could be undertaken on that day. Just like the merchant who may be seen in the city, on a bright Sunday morning, in clean shirt collar, and with hands thrust into his pockets, loitering slowly down the street, or standing in ruminating attitude at the corner, pondering carefully every step of the morrow's tangled path, or perhaps calculating the amount of time lost in Sundays, by the whole world, taken individually and collectively from Moses's day to the present time; but on the whole, enduring the Sabbath with Christian resignation. CRITICS. It is a little singular that the mass should attach much importance to the small opinions of every-day critics. Because a man happens to have the facilities of publishing his views and opinions to the world, though he be the veriest blockhead on earth, his verdict is often of more than ordinary weight among men. Indeed, a Johnson could not influence some men by his verbal opinion, to the extent that an ignoramus can influence them through "press and types.' 66 The dignity of print" has a strange effect. Although it is but one man who speaks, and he may have one hundred opponents who may argue successfully against him, yet they will all fail with the public. But let either of them publish the same opinion, and the ore, which was rich and weighty, becomes refined. Common critics, moreover, are always ready to find imperfections, for thus will the public be made acquainted with their penetration. In fact, many of them seem to think that to criticize is to find fault; "else (they reason) where is the necessity of criticism?" It is said that any fool can fire a house. So can any man criticize a book; but very few can build the one or write the other. Many of the vinegar-critics of the day who haunt the shores of literature, would utterly fail in penning even the preface to a respectable book. It is a recorded and well-known fact that many of our standard works were rejected for the want of a publisher, owing to the unfavourable opinion of stolid rule-and-figure critics; but when they came before the people, who, judging from the impulses of the heart, are never wrong, how soon was their verdict reversed! The PEOPLE are the only true tribunal. They separate, with the hand of a refiner, the dross from the gold. By them genius is preserved, and pretension discarded.— Knickerbocker. The boxes of the opera, splendid as they are, and splendid as the appearance of those in them is, do not breathe a spirit of enjoyment. They are rather like the sick wards of luxury and idleness, where people of a certain class are condemned to perform the quarantine of fashion for the evening.— Hazlitt. DECEIVERS.-We are born to deceive or to be deceived. In one of these classes we must be numbered; but our selfrespect is dependent upon our selection. The practice of deception generally secures its own punishment; for callous indeed must be that mind which is insensible of its ignominy! But he who has been duped is conscious, even in the very moment that he detects the imposition, of his proud superiority to one who can stoop to the adoption of so foul and sorry a course. The really good and high-minded, therefore, are seldom provoked by the discovery of deception; though the cunning and artful resent it, as a humiliating triumph obtained over them in their own vocations. WIT. Wit is the lightning of the mind, reason the sunshine, and reflection the moonlight; for as the bright orb of night owes its lustre to the sun, so does reflection owe its existence to reason. PREMATURE WISDOM.-The premature wisdom of youth resembles the forced fruit of our hot-houses; it looks like the natural production, but has not its flavour or raciness. POOR. A term of reproach in England, and of pity in most other countries. POETS AND ASTRONOMERS.-Poets view nature as a book in which they read a language unknown to common minds, as astronomers regard the heavens, and therein discover objects that escape the vulgar ken. PEACE OF MIND.-Though peace of mind does not constitute happiness, happiness cannot exist without it; our serenity being the result of our own exertions, while our happiness is dependent on others: hence the reason why it is so rare; for, on how few can we count? Our wisdom, there fore, is hest shown in cultivating all that leads to the preservation of this negative blessing, which, while we possess it will prevent us from ever becoming wholly wretched. ANSWER TO THE ENIGMA IN No. 17. As for gold, it flies off like the chaff or the stubble, Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at the Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane, College Green, Dublin.— Agents:-R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley, Paternoster Row, London; SIMMS and DINHAM, Exchange Street, Manchester; C. DAVIES, North John Street, Liverpool; J. DRAKE, Birmingham; SLOCOMBE & SIMMS, Leeds, FRASER and CRAWFORD, George Street, Edinburgh; and DAVID ROBERTSON, Trongate, Glasgow. | To a large portion of our readers it will be scarcely necessary to state, that the little town of Cahir is in many respects the most interesting of its size to be found in the province of Munster, we had almost said in all Ireland; and that, though this interest is to a considerable extent derived from the extreme beauty of its situation and surrounding scenery, it is in an equal degree attributable to a rarer quality in our small towns-the beauty of its public edifices, and the appearance of neatness, cleanliness, and comfort, which pervades it generally, and indicates the fostering protection of the noble family to whom it belongs, and to whom it anciently gave title. Most of our small towns require brilliant sunshine to give them even a semi-cheerful aspect: Cahir looks pleasant even on one of our characteristic gloomy days. As it is not, however, our present purpose to enter on any detailed account of the town itself, but to confine our notice to one of its most attractive features-its ancient castle-we shall only state that Cahir is a market and post town, in the barony of Iffa and Offa West, county of Tipperary, and is situated on the river Suir, at the junction of the mail-coach roads leading respectively from Waterford to Limerick, and from Cork by way of Cashel to Dublin. It is about eight miles W.N.W. from Clonmel, and the same distance S. W. from Cashel, and contains about 3500 inhabitants. The ancient and proper name of this town is Cahir-dunaiascaigh, or, the circular stone fortress of the fish-abounding Dun, or fort; a name which appears to be tautological, and which can only be accounted for by the supposition that an earthen Dun, or fort, had originally occupied the site on which a Cahir, or stone fort, was erected subsequently. Examples of names formed in this way, of words having nearly synonymous meanings, are very numerous in Ireland, as Caislean-dun-more, the castle of the great fort, and as the Irish name of Cahir Castle itself, which, after the erection of the present building, was called Caislean-na-caherachduna-iascaigh, an appellation in which three distinct Irish names for military works of different classes and ages are combined. Be this, however, as it may, it is certain that a Cahir or stone fort occupied the site of the present castle in the most remote historic times, as it is mentioned in the oldest books of the Brehon laws; and the Book of Lecan records its de struction by Cuirreach, the brother-in-law of Felemy Recht- party again, or secretly combined with them; and on the mar, or the Lawgiver, as early as the third century, at which 23d of May in the year following, the Castle of Cahir was time it is stated to have been the residence of a female named surprised and taken by the Lord Cahir's brother, and, as Badamar. Whether this Cahir was subsequently rebuilt or it was said, with his connivance. Of this fact the following acnot, does not appear in our histories as far as we have found; count is given by Sir George Carew in his Pacata Hibernia :nor have we been able to discover in any ancient document a “The president being at Youghall in his journey to Cork, record of the erection of the present castle. It is stated in- sent Sir John Dowdall (an ancient captain in Ireland) to deed by Archdall, and from him again by all subsequent Irish Cahir Castle, as well to see the same provided of a sufficient topographers, that Cahir Castle was erected prior to the year ward out of Captain George Blunt's company, as to take 1142 by Conor-na-Catharach O'Brien, king of Thomond. order for the furnishing of them with victuall, munition, and But this is altogether an error. No castle properly so called other warlike provision; there he left the eighth or ninth of of this class was erected in Ireland till a later period, and the May, a serjeant, with nine-and-twenty soldiers, and all necesassertion of Conor's having built a castle at Cahir is a mere sary provision for two months, who notwithstanding, upon the assumption drawn from the cognomen na-Catharach, or of the three-and-twentieth of the same, were surprised by James Cahir or Fort by which he was known, and which we know from Galdie, alias Butler, brother to the lord of Cahir, and, as it historical evidences was derived not from this Cahir on the was suspected by many pregnant presumptions, not without Suir, but from a Cahir which he built on an island in Lough the consent and working of the lord himself, which in afterDerg, near Killaloe, and which still retains his name. The times proved to be true. The careless security of the wartrue name of the founder of Cahir Castle, and date of its erec- ders, together with the treachery of an Irishman who was tion, must therefore remain undecided till some record is found placed sentinel upon the top of the castle, were the causes of which will determine them; and in the meantime we can only this surprise. indulge in conjecture as to one or the other. That it owes its James Galdie had no more in his company than sixty men, origin, indeed, to some one of the original Anglo-Norman and coming to the wall of the bawne of the castle undiscosettlers in Ireland, there can be little doubt, and its high anti-vered, by the help of ladders, and some masons that brake holes quity seems unquestionable. As early as the fourteenth cen- in some part of the wall where it was weak, got in and entered tury, it appears to have been the residence of James Galdie the hall before they were perceived. The serjeant, named (or the Anglified) Butler, son of James, the third Earl of Or- Thomas Quayle, which had the charge of the castle, made some mond, by Catherine, daughter of Gerald, Earl of Desmond- little resistance, and was wounded. Three of the warde were whose descendant Thomas Butler, ancestor to the present slaine; the rest upon promise of their lives rendered their Earl of Glengal, was advanced to the peerage by letters patent, armes and were sent to Clonmell. Of this surprise the lord dated at Dublin the 10th November 1543 (34 Henry VIII.) president had notice when he was at Kilmallock, whereupon by the title of Baron of Cahir. he sent directions for their imprisonment in Clonmell until he might have leisure to try the delinquents by a marshals' court. Upon the fourth day following, James Butler, who took the castle, wrote a large letter to the president, to excuse himself of his traitorly act, wherein there were not so many lines as lies, and written by the underhand working of the lord of Cahir his brother, they conceiving it to be the next way to have the castle restored to the baron." In the subsequent reigns of Elizabeth and the unfortunate Charles I, Cahir Castle appears as a frequent and important scene in the melancholy dramas of which Ireland was the stage, and its history becomes a portion not only of that of our country generally, but even in some degree of that of England. 66 Cahir Castle was, however, restored to the government in a few months after, as detailed in the following characteristic manner by Sir George Carew : It will be remembered, that, when by the battle of the Blackwater in 1598 the English power in Ireland was reduced to the lowest state, and the queen felt it necessary to send Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, with an army of more than 20,000 men—the largest body, as the Four Masters state, that had ever before come into Ireland since the time of Strongbow to subdue the rebels, that unfortunate favourite, neglectful of the instructions imperatively given to him that he should prosecute the Ulster rebels, and plant their strongholds with garrisons, marched into Munster, where the only deed of importance he achieved was the taking of Cahir Castle, and the forcing of the Lord Cahir and some other disaffected noblemen of Munster to submit, and accept the queen's protection. The only favourable result of this misguided enterprise, as Morrison acquaints us, "was the making a great prey of the rebels' cattle in those parts; he cast the terror of his forces on the weakest enemies, whom he scattered and constrained to fly into woods and mountains to hide themselves." But these weak rebels did not remain long inactive, or exhibit weakness in attack; and the earl's journey back to Dublin towards the end of July was marked by a series of disasters that sealed his doom; or, as the Four Masters remark, "The Irish afterwards were wont to say that it were better for the Earl of Essex that he had not undertaken this expedition from Dublin to Hy-Conell Gaura, as he had to return back from his enterprise without receiving submission or respect from the Geraldines, and without having achieved any ex-deputy (in his behalf) for the repossessing thereof; otherwise ploit except the taking of Cahir-duna-iasgach." The taking of Cahir Castle was not effected without considerable trouble, though it is stated that Essex's army amounted to 7000 foot and 1300 horse. O'Sullivan states that the siege was prolonged for ten days, in consequence of the Earl of Desmond and Redmond Burke having come to its relief; and the Four Masters state in their Annals that "the efforts of the earl and his army in taking it were fruitless, until they sent for heavy ordnance to Waterford, by which they broke down the nearest side of the fortress, after which the castle had to be surrendered to the Earl of Essex and the queen.' This event occurred on the 30th of May 1599. As Morrison, however, remarks, the submission of the Lord Cahir, Lord Roche, and others, which followed on this exploit, were only feigned, as subsequent events proved. After the earl's departure, they either openly joined the rebel "Towards the latter end of this month of August, the lord deputy writing to the president about some other occasions, it pleased him to remember Cahir Castle (which was lost as before you have heard), signifying that he much desired to have that castle recovered from the rebels, the rather because the great ordnance, or cannon, and a culverin being left there by the Earl of Essex, were now possessed by the rebels. This item from the lord deputy spurred on the president without further delay to take order therein, and therefore presently by his letters sent for the lord of Cahir to repair unto him, who (as before you have heard) was vehemently suspected to have some hand both in the taking and keeping thereof. The Baron of Cahir being come, the council persuaded him to deal with James Butler (nicknamed James Galdie) his brother, about the redelivering thereof to her Majesty's use; but his answer was, that so little interest had he in his brother, as the meanest follower in all his country might prevail more with him than himself (for he was unwilling to have the castle regained by the state, except it might again be left wholly to him, as it was before the first winning thereof); which the president surmising, told him, that if it might speedily be yielded up unto him, he would become an humble suitor to the lord he would presently march with his whole army into those parts, and taking the same by force, he would ruin and rase it to the very foundation, and this he bound with no small protestations. Hereupon Justice Comerford being dispatched away with the lord of Cahir, they prevailed so far with young Butler, that the castle, upon the twenty-ninth following, was delivered to the state, as also all the munitions, and the great ordnance conveyed to Clonmell, and from thence to Waterford." Notwithstanding these imputed crimes of the Lord Cahir, and the open treason of his brother, he received the queen's pardon by patent, dated the 27th day of May 1601, and died in possession of his castle and estates in January 1628. His brother James Galdie, however, lived to take his share in the troubles that followed in 1641, and suffered accordingly. From these stories of violence and treachery we turn with pleasure to record a fact of a peaceful character, in which Cahir Castle appears as a scene of hospitality and splendid revelry. This occurred in 1626, when the Lord Deputy Falkland, in making a tour of Ireland, after residing a considerable time at the Earl of Ormond's castle at Carrick-on-Suir, in some time after came to the lord of Cahir, and was entertained by him in his castle with the greatest splendour. But if these old walls had tongues, they could probably tell us of many scenes of a different character from that we have just narrated, and of which one has been dimly preserved in history. Immediately after the death of Thomas, the fourth Lord Cahir, in 1628, as already stated, his property having passed to his only daughter and heir Margaret, who was married to her kinsman Edmund Butler, the fourth Lord Dunboyne, the latter, while residing in this castle with his wife, slew in it, or murdered, perhaps, would be the more correct word, Mr James Prendergast, the owner of Newcastle, for which he was confined a prisoner in the Castle of Dublin; and his Majesty having granted a commission on the 4th of June in that year, constituting the Lord Aungier high steward of Ireland for the trial of his lordship, he was tried by his peers accordingly, but acquitted, fifteen peers voting him in nocent, and one, the celebrated Lord Dockwra, voting him guilty. During the troubles which followed on the rebellion of 1641, Cahir Castle was taken for the Parliament, by surrender, in the beginning of August 1647 by Lord Inchiquin; and it was again taken in February 1650 by Cromwell himself, the garrison receiving honourable conditions. The reputation which the castle had at this period as a place of strength will appear from the account of its surrender as given in the manuscripts of Mr Cliffe, secretary to General Ireton, published by Borlase. After observing that Cromwell did not deem it prudent to attempt the taking of Clonmel till towards summer, he adds, that he drew his army before a very considerable castle, called Cahir Castle, not very far from Clonmel, a place then possessed by one Captain Mathews, who was but a little before married to the Lady Cahir, and had in it a considerable number of men to defend it; the general drew his men before it, and for the better terror in the business, brought some cannon with him likewise, there being a great report of the strength of the place, and a story told the general, that the Earl of Essex, in Queen Elizabeth's time, lay seven or eight weeks before it, and could not take it. He was notwithstanding then resolved to attempt the taking of it, and in order thereunto sent them this thundering summons : SIR-Having brought the army and my cannon near this place, according to my usual manner in summoning places, I thought fit to offer you terms honourable for soldiers, that you may march away with your baggage, arms, and colours, free from injuries or violence; but if I be, notwithstanding, necessitated to bend my cannon upon you, you must expect what is usual in such cases. To avoid blood, this is offered to you by Your servant, O. CROMWELL. For the Governor at Cahir Castle, 24th February 1649' (1650.) "Notwithstanding the strength of the place, and the unseasonableness of the time of the year, this summons struck such a terror in the garrison, that the same day the governor, Captain Mathews, immediately came to the general and agreed for the surrender, "-&c. It was well for Captain George Mathews, or Mathew, as the name is now generally written, and his garrison too, that he had not the hot-headedness of an Irishman, or he would probably have set this "thundering summons" at defiance, and Cahir Castle would not only have shared the fate of most Irish fortresses at that period, but, what would have been a far greater loss, the Apostle of Temperance, who has done as much to regenerate the people of Ireland as Cromwell did to destroy them, would in all human probability never have existed. But we are exceeding the limits assigned to us, and can only add a few words of general description. Cahir Castle is built upon a low rugged island of limestone, which divides the water of the Suir, and which is connected by a bridge with the two banks of the river. It is of considerable extent, but irregular outline, consequent upon its adaptation to the form and broken surface of its insular site, and consists of a great square keep, surrounded by extensive outworks, forming an outer and an inner ballium, with a small court-yard between the two; these outworks being flanked by seven towers, four of which are circular, and three of larger size, square. From a very interesting and accurate bird's-eye view of the castle, as besieged by the Earl of Essex, given in the Pacata Hibernia, we find, that notwithstanding its great age, and all the vicissitudes and storms it has suffered, it still presents, very nearly, the same appearance as it did at that period; and from the praiseworthy care in its preservation of its present lord, it is likely to endure as a beautiful historical monument for ages longer. P. IRISH MUSICIANS OF THE LAST CENTURY, STORY OF DOCTOR COGAN. In this grave cigar-smoking age of ours, in which Irishmen exhibit so little of the love of fun and merriment—the drolleries and escapades which distinguished them in preceding ages-it is a pleasant thing to us septagenarians to look back occasionally to our youthful days, and call up from the storehouse of our memories the merry men whom and whose merry freaks we were either familiar with, or at least had heard of or seen. One of these choice spirits is just now present with us in our mind's eye, and we are certain that we have only to mention his name, to bring him equally before a great number of our Dublin readers. We mean the late musical doctor, John Cogan. There, now, Dublin readers, some thousands of you at least have the man before you, though many of you are unfortunately too young to have heard his exquisitely delicate and expressive hands on the piano, extemporising with matchless felicity upon Garryowen or some other melody of Old Ireland; or participated in his playful and always inoffensive merriment and good humour. Even the youngest of you, however, must surely remember the little man-little indeed in size, but every inch of him a gentleman, who but a few years since might be occasionally seen taking an airing, when the sun shone on him, in Sackville Street, sometimes leaning on his servant's arm, and at others driven in his pony-phaeton, which his prudence in youth had enabled him to secure for his days of feebleness and old age. That pleasant intellectual countenance, bright and playful as his own music even to the last, has disappeared from amongst us; but the memory of such a man should not be allowed to die, and we will therefore, while in the vein, devote a column of our Journal to a sketch of one of the many incidents remembered of his long life, as illustrative in some degree not only of his character, but also of that of society in Dublin during the last century. that Doctor Cogan was not only great as a musical performer, From what we have already stated, it will have appeared but also as a performer in innocent waggery. It would indeed have been difficult to determine in which performance he most excelled, or whether he most loved his music or his joke. He was not only a good theorist, but loved a bit of harmony intensely, and a laughing chorus was his prime delight. These he would often accompany or direct as occasion required, to heighten the pleasures of a musical treat, when he rarely neglected a happy opportunity of introducing some vivace movement of his own composing, provided he could previously prepare a score of good fellows capable of performing effectively the several parts assigned them in it, which among his apt compeers was rarely a difficult task. A lover of good cheer and hospitality, which he both gave as well as partook of with a true Irish spirit, it was a settled point with the Doctor that brother professors should at all times live in harmony with each other, and receive brotherly encouragement; nor were such feelings of an exclusively national character, but extended equally to foreigners coming to Ireland, who, if at all known to fame, were sure of receiving a friendly and cead mile failte reception at his hands. If, it is true, he could on such occasions indulge a little innocent joke, by playing off a specimen of Irish counterpoint at the expense of such visitors, it was so much the more agreeable to him, as in the following instance of the concerted movement which he got up to do honour to the celebrated violinist Pinto, who visited our city about sixty years since. But before we detail the circumstances attendant on this reception, it is necessary that we should tell our worthy readers something of the person who was selected by the Doctor to play a leading part-the principal fiddle-on the occasion; and the more particularly as his name is unknown to the great majority of the present generation, and almost forgotten by the few who may still survive him. The person we allude to was Robert Meekins, or, as he was familiarly called, "Bob," a violinist of great tavern-playing notoriety in his day. Like his brother professors, the harpers of the last century, of whom Mr Bunting has given us such characteristic anecdotes, Bob was a thoroughly Irish musician in every sense of the word; and though, as we believe, he had never travelled out of Dublin, his native city, few were found to equal him on his instrument either in tone, execution, or expression of feeling. From the earliest period of his musical studies, however, he had indulged in a wild and extemporaneous mode of practice, which proved most injurious to his professional career in after life, and unfortunately for him, being moreover an inveterate hater of dry study, Bob more frequently wetted his whistle than he rosined his bow. Under the influence of such bad practice he became at last incurably vicious, and rarely kept within reasonable bounds, either in the way of drinking or fiddle-playing. Indeed, whatever command poor Bob retained over his instrument, he had none over himself. Leader after leader sought to curb him in his wild extravagances of style, in the vain hope of diverting his great natural musical powers into legitimate courses; but Bob would never be led, and as to driving him, that was found to be equally impracticable. He would go his own way, and no other. He would read concerted music, not as it was intended, but as he thought it should be. His passion for obligatoes was unconquerable, and he rarely arrived at an ad libitum that he did not avail himself of it with a vengeance; and thus, while his brother musicians were attending to the pauses, perfectly content with the single note before them, an impromptu cadence would be heard meandering through a chord, telling of Bob's wanderings, and he the while so absorbed as to be equally heedless of the elbow-punchings of his neighbours, the authority of his leader, or the intentions of the composer. No composer indeed came up to his fancy-entirely; something was always wanting, and his fingers were ever upon the alert to supply that something which was not set down for him and should a remonstrance come from the leader, it but too frequently produced a presto movement on the part of Bob, leaving a vacancy in the orchestra to be filled up as it might, at the shortest possible notice. Vain of his powers, and scorning restraint, his kicks against orchestral rule became beyond all bearing, and so he was himself at last kicked out from all decent musical society. Thus finding himself alone, he naturally turned solo player, and became one of the lions of Dublin, drawing nightly crowds to the taverns he frequented, where he could indulge his love for flights of fancy to his heart's content. But, unfortunately for him, in this new sphere he was enabled by the liberal contributions of his admirers to indulge also without restraint that more fatal passion for drink which had proved his bane through life, leading him step by step, as usual with such reckless characters, to an untimely and degraded grave. It is generally believed that poor Bob Meekins died from the effects of intemperance in some wretched doorway in an alley of our city. Such, then, was the person selected by Doctor Cogan to perform a principal part in the little musical drama which he had prepared for the reception of the great foreign violinist of the day, and the place chosen for its performance was the once celebrated hotel or tavern called the Pigeon-house, which at that period was the common resort for the meetings or departures of friends to or from England by the Holyhead packets. Thither accordingly the Doctor and his musical companions repaired, to await the expected arrival of the Signor, and ordered dinner with the determination that he should be their guest. It is not necessary to dilate upon the reception given to the brother professor, or to particularise all the good things that were said, sung, and eaten upon the occa. sion. It is sufficient to say that every thing passed off in true Hibernian style, to the astonishment as well as gratification of Pinto, who was delighted to find himself surrounded by so many new and warm-hearted friends, each keeping up the tide of merriment by a rapid circulation of the bottle amid the joyous flow of song, jest, and laugh. But where was Bob all this time? He was placed in an adjoining passage awaiting a silent signal, and being primed for action, was impatient for the moment of attack upon the excitable nerves of the delighted Italian. This signal was at length given, and so effectually arranged were the parts given to each of the Doctor's apt pupils, that as the soul-thrilling tones of Bob's violin vibrated through the room, it seemed to produce no other effect upon their ears than a sotto voce expression of displeasure, or forzando of horror. All this seemed quite spontaneous, and was at the same time so judiciously managed as to allow the instrument to predominate over the voices, and thus enable the practised ear of Pinto to discover in the invisible minstrel a master spirit—nor did the well-timed crescendo of “ Turn the scraping villain out," "Curse the noisy blackguard," &c. &c. arrive at its climax, until Bob's varied and expressive execution had completely bewildered the poor Signor with amazement. To him, indeed, the scene was one as unusual as it was unexpected; and when silence was somewhat restored, he eagerly asked in his broken English whence the tones had come; and truly ludicrous were the varied expressions of the Italian's intellectual countenance on being assured by the Doctor and his assistants that the performer who had so enraptured him was a rascally itinerant fiddler, who gained a precarious livelihood by scraping at taverns. The effect may easily be imagined. The Signor insisted upon seeing him; and when Bob's whisky face and tattered habiliments became visible, Pinto sat fixed in mute bewilderment, conjuring up in his excited imagination the apparition of a Meekins at the corner of every street; and the success of the Doctor's joke was complete, when the poor Italian, with a forlorn and chopfallen visage, was heard to mutter, "Lit-el fid-ellit-el fid-el-you call-if dis lit-el fidel, me go back, me no use!" A simultaneous burst of laughter was the response to these hurried and broken accents of surprise and chagrin. But enough was effected, and in quick compassion for poor Pinto's feelings, he was at once made to understand the whole contrivance, on which he laughed as loudly as any of the merry Irish group around him. The scene of joyousness was kept up till an early hour, during which Meekins occasionally revelled in the music of his own dear land, to the increased delight not only of the Signor, but of all present on the occasion. W. THE INQUIRY. Tell me, ye winged winds, Some valley in the west, The weary soul may rest? The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, And sigh'd for pity as it answered “No!" Tell me, thou mighty deep, And friendship never dies? The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, And thou, serenest moon, That, with such holy face, Dost look upon the earth Asleep in night's embrace, Tell me, in all thy round Hast thou not seen some spot, Where miserable man Might find a happier lot? Behind a cloud, the moon withdrew in woe, And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded "No!" Tell me, my secret soul, O! tell me, Hope and Faith, Is there no resting-place From sorrow, sin, and death? Is there no happy spot Where mortals may be bless'd Where grief may find a balm, And weariness a rest? Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given, Waved their bright wings, and whisper'd, "Yes! in Heaven!" -Mackay's Poems |