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and vow certain things in its name," and that the neglect of the conditions is ruinous to the child.

It would be worse than idle to criticise the historic verisimilitude of a drama, in which there is not an incident that would have occurred in the reign of any of the Tudors, nor indeed at any time in England. It is equally at variance with abstract human nature. Marie Tudor and Jane are impossible characters; their love and their jealousy are not the passions as we see them in real life, and the hero Fabiani is to the full as much out of nature as Triboulet. We need not pursue the analysis farther; he who has read one of Victor Hugo's plays can understand the plan of all; his system is to represent one pure passion struggling with and overcoming the depravity of all the rest; it is the Corsair or Giaour broken into crums; he exaggerates the purity, he exaggerates the depravity; he views both in his

dark room and through his distorted medium, he will not correct his false impressions by his own experience or that of others-he neither mixes with the world nor reads history; hence his representations are distorted phantasmagoria, objects of wonder, of horror, even of admiration, but not of sympathy. And hence their fate may be predicted, they will be stared at, applauded, and forgotten.

The influence of the theatre cannot be revived; Victor Hugo in his efforts to restore stage dynasty, has inflicted upon it an irreparable injury, by removing it to a greater distance from reality, and thus depriving it of sympathetic interest. He has mistaken the true nature of fiction, which is the more perfect when it is the more true; but he has evinced powers that would command success if he opened the shutters of the dark room and substituted plain glass for the imperfect convex lens.

DENNIS O'DAISY AND THE PIG. "No doubt the Fairy hath been here!"—GAY.

I HAD been angling on the Nannywater, and, after a good morning's sport, determined to turn in and have breakfast at my friend Tim Casey's, who at that time was landlord of the "Golden Shamrock," near BlackAbbey. I had two motives for doing so :first, because the hostess-Mistress Nancy -was justly considered the best hand in the country at dressing rashers and eggs; and next, because I wished to select one of a litter of fine Newfoundland puppies which Tim's celebrated" Mermaid" had just produced.

While breakfast was preparing, Tim and I walked into the yard, and paid a visit to the manger where the whelps lay comfortably nestling their noses and resting their chins upon each other's flanks, in a state of somnolency. Having made my selection, we returned to the little parlour, and there found the tea, coffee, et cætera,as exquisite as a keen appetite could desire-Nancy with her best cap, and best smiles, officiating in person at the tea-board.

As the moralist says, "All human happiness is fleeting;" and as I say, "breakfast itself must have an end!" The important business being over, and its equipage removed, Tim went off about his out-door ocVOL. X.-NO. IV.-APRIL, 1837.

cupations, and Nancy to attend to her duties in the bar—where a continual bustle, clanking of pewter pots, and loud talk, gave undeniable evidence that the house was 66 well to do." For my own part, having lighted my cigar, I took up the "Dublin Observer," and stretching out my legs upon the sofaor rather settle-determined to "take mine ease in mine inn."

Before ten minutes however had elapsed, I was interrupted by a stentorian voice exclaiming,-"Blood-an'-agers! Missus Casey, darlint, how is every bit of you? but, by gorra! it's yourself that's looking elegant, so I needn't be after axing."

""Tis Dennis O'Daisy," said I, “for a guinea to a turnip,—I know his voice." So getting up, I rang the bell, and summoned our hero into the parlour.

Dennis was a boy, (at least so he called himself,) about thirty years of age, six fect two inches in altitude, with a proportionable breadth of shoulder and strength of limb. In his attire, he was invariably, (if I may be allowed to apply the language of Horace,) simplex munditiis. He wore strong shoes, blue cotton stockings, short leathern breeches, and a coarse grey coat-or rather jacket,— with very brief skirts. A low-crowned hat,

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perfectly devoid of all nap, and slightly placed aside, upon an immense mop of curly, black hair, surmounted his person, and (with the addition of a shirt,) completed his costume ;-for, (except on Sundays,) he generally dispensed with the use of either waistcoat or cravat, "not," as he declared, "in the regard of the saving, but becaze he felt aisier athout them." On the Sabbath, however, he sported either a "plover's-eye," or a "shamrock green,"

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tied round his nate neck,"

and a cotton vest, cut from a piece of cloth, originally intended for a bed-curtain, and having portrayed on it, in glowing colours, the spirit-stirring device of a Fox-chase!

About the design in this last-mentioned work of art, I shall at present say nothing;

but I think the artist rather laid himself open to the strictures of criticism, as far as the execution was concerned. It evinced a

startling contempt for perspective; and in

deed a boldness-I had almost said carelessness—of colouring, which went far to convince me that the "Ball's-Bridge" cotton factory has not been able, (no matter what the connoisseurs may say about home manufacture,) to equal the yet celebrated loomwork to which old Gilles Gobelin has given his name. I shall not press my readers, however, to adopt this opinion, as after all perhaps it may be the result of early prejudice on my part.

At so-hoing a hare, snaring a rabbit, drawing a trout-stream, or robbing a rookery, Dennis was without a rival. He was also the best wrestler in the Three Parishes, and had unconquerable courage, “barring by night;” for Dennis, like many of his country's peasantry, was ludicrously superstitious, and has been known to run with breathless speed from an old white goat, who, in his anxiety to reach a tuft of ivy, had set his fore feet against the churchyard wall, and happened to peep over it just as Dennis chanced to be reluctantly passing, at the hour of gloaming,

Shadows the soul of Dennis could appal!

Ghosts and Ben-shees he trembled at the very name of; but the FARIES were his grand subject of alarm. When mention of "The Good People" was made, he either became silent altogether, or talked mysteriously, and with as much guardedness as though he firmly believed that Queen Mab herself was within ear-shot of the conversation. Often had he been jeered at for this ridicu

lous timidity, by his less credulous companions at the alehouse; and as often had he exclaimed in reply,—" Blood-anʼ-agers! isn't it enough that I'm not afeard to face a man, or a mad bull, or, by Jabers! a rhinoros, or any other frightful Christhian, but yous must expect me to go for to stand aginst the Divil himself? Well, wait awhile! maybe the Good People may talk to some of yous yet!"

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Why, Dennis, have you ever seen any of them same?"

"Have I! is that what you say? oh, no matter!-never you fear, I've seen more nor the best of yous has comed across yet; but not more, (plaze God!) nor some of you may meet before ye die."

By this evasiveness in his answers, Dennis, at last, went far to convince his auditors that he had seen something, and by long and habitually thus tacitly lying, in order not to remove their error from the minds of

his catechumens, he finally began to believe

with the fervour of a devotee even the wildest and most absurd of his own theories ;

Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can weave;
Which simple votaries shall on trust receive,
While craftier feign belief, till they believe!

In a word, as Dennis grew older, he every day became more amusingly superstitious.

Our hero at this time was land-stewart,

game-keeper, indeed factotum to Sir Valen

tine Burrows, who intended at the next general election to become a candidate to in Parliarepresent the county of D. ment. Now it so happened that his near neighbour, Lord Doublechin,had paramount interest in that quarter; and in consequence thereof, was paid every courtesy and attention by the worthy and aspiring baronet.

When Dennis entered the room, 1 observed that he 'deposited in one corner of it a small sack which he had slung over his

brawny shoulder, tied round the mouth with a leathern thong, and evidently containing some living animal.

"A bag-fox, I'll be sworn, Dennis!" said I.

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you know, Sir, looks mighty odd. Bagfox ?-bag-devil!-bad luck to me! your honour, if I don't think he forgets entirely the music of a pack of hounds, the darlints!" Well, that does look rather odd, as you Dennis."

say,

"Troth! and so it does, your honour; but God be wid ould times!-bag-fox!'faix! as I said afore, I wish it was !-it's myself that's fagged carrying the dirty little baste; and maybe, I'm not as dhry as if a fathom of Skerries' linen was after being dragged up my throat, and sure it's small blame to me, after walking, as I am, both hard and fast."

The concluding observation was intended as a pretty broad hint that Dennis expected me to "stand treat." Accordingly, I requested the mistress-who just entered at the convenient moment-to furnish my friend Dennis immediately with a pot of Guinness's best XX, mulled, and with a stick* in it.

While Dennis was discussing the contents of the first pot, he digressed from the Parliamentary subject, to give me a description of a very fine breed of pigs, which his master had been latterly cultivating extensively.

The first, however, not being found sufficient, I was obliged to trouble our hostess to bring forward a second pot, which Dennis received with a grin of increased glee, and chucked her under the chin as he drank her health;-" Here's to you, Missus Casey, acolleen! Ah, then, it's you that can mull drink-by gorra! it's beautiful entirely !— here's to you again, a-cushla; and your health, too, your honour."

"But touching the sack, Dennis,” said I, "the sack, there, in the corner-what may it contain, pray?"

“O blood-an-ounds, aye! sure it's about that I was just telling your honour. You

see

Here the sack was suddenly shaken violently by its hidden occupant; and a voice, which no one could mistake, issued from its penetralia; it was the grunt of a young pig!

"Urth! urth!" exclaimed Dennis, “bad luck to you! you son of a sow, can't you he quiet there! Missus Casey, darlint, will you be plazed to lave that little baste under the form in the bar for me, until I'm going, not for to have him here disturbing the

A small glass of whiskey.

gentleman, (the brute !) with his damned grunting."

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Indeed, and I'll do that same for you, Denny O'Daisy; and it's good care that shall be taken of him," was the reply of the obliging landlady.

As soon as the pig and the mistress had vacated the parlour, Dennis continued—

"You must know, Sir, that the last time when ould Lord Doublechin dined with my master, he said there was nothing in the 'versal world that he was so fond of, as a fine little pig for dinner: and so, you see, as my master wants to curry favour with the Lord, aginst the 'lection-a—you seea-that's it, Sir. good as a wink, Sir.

You know, a nod's as

"I understand you.

Your health, Sir!" Your master wishes to make a present of the pig to his lordship, I suppose?"

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Purcisely! your honour. And more's the pity that my master, who's a dacent man, and a good Roman Catholic into the bargain, (God keep him so, I pray Jasis and the Blessed Mother!) should go for to send a pig to the same lord, or to any one of his creed, when it would be fitter for him to be after giving the likes to Father O'Tool, that's a rale riverind,—not that I wish hurt or harm to any body; at the same time, God forbid I should do such a dirty action!— only just, the divil a bit myself would care to taste of the same pig after he's roastedbecase, you see, I don't think he can be all right, after coming from one that bleeves this aways, to one that bleeves that aways. And, God between us and harm!" continued Dennis, beginning to speak in a whisper," more nor once, do you know, as I trudged along the road with him, I thought somehow, that he was beginning to grunt more like a Protestan nor a natural pig, already. Your health. Sir! But now isn't that mighty strange, Sir?”

I could not help smiling at Dennis's harmless - however inveterate — bigotry, and was about to admit the strangeness of the pig's vocal apostacy, when I was interrupted by the entrance of our landlord, who, after shaking hands with Dennis, and

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self that's had the rearing of him, and a credit he is to me, though I say it myself. Here's s your health, a-vich!"Why then, Sir," addressing me, after a pause, "do you think it's true, what they say, that a pig (God bless us!) can see the wind?"

"The devil a doubt about it at all!" interrupted mine host; "did you never see one carrying the straw in his mouth, to make a bed for hisself, just afore a storm? But, for my own part, Dennis, I think he sees the wind best when it's sow'-(w)est, hah! ha ha! that's a good one-that's no bore, ha! ha! ha! that's good again," said the landlord, chuckling at his own wit, and rubbing his hands together.

The reader will perceive that Tim Casey was a punster. He was, however, much more addicted to practical than verbal strokes of wit. He once put jalap into a barrel of beer at a wake; but this, he admitted himself, was only a poor, borrowed trick. His chef d'œuvre, however, was played off on no less important a personage than Father O'Tool himself; and on no less important an occasion than the christening of Tim's own son and heir. The dinner, as is usual on such festivals, was excellent,-and the drink plentiful: his reverence, of course, did ample justice to both-especially to the latter, and when he was about to depart, Tim slipped into his hand a carefully folded and temptingly crisp piece of paper, which the priest naturally enough concluded to be his customary "dues." Not having expected, however, quite so much as a ONEPOUND BANK OF IRELAND, he joyfully pocketed the boon, with all that apparent bashfulness that true worth is capable of. Alas! how baseless are the visions of Hope! Upon examining it in the morning, he was surprised and mortified to find it only a "PERMIT" from his majesty's officers of customs. On making this unpleasant discovery, he immediately wrote rather a sharp letter to our friend Casey-inclosing the paper, and " hoping that the mistake-for such, he was sure, it must be-would forthwith be rectified."

Tim however answered, "that there was no mistake-that the document in question had not been intended for dues, (which however he now felt great pleasure in inclosing, in the shape of a real Bank note,) but simply for its own peculiar purposeslest his reverence might be sazed by the exciseman, on his way home, for carrying

more nor the legal complement of spirits on his person, without a PERMIT. This com pliment to his retentive capabilities, would probably have been felt as rather a sore joke by Father O'Toole, were it not that the real "One-Pound" acted as a gentle panacea; and Tim Casey and his "Clargy" remained as good friends as ever.

The above has been recorded as one of the many tricks that our worthy landlord had played off on sundry occasions, and the recital of which used highly to delight the generality of his customers. Even Dennis himself was wont to indulge in a hearty laugh at the expense of Father O'Tool, although he was by far too thick-headed to comprehend even the most palpable witticisms of the punster.

As it was now waxing late in the morning, I left Dennis to pursue his way to Lord Doublechin's, while I determined to have another stroll along the banks of the Nannywater.

I could not help remarking that the landlord chuckled with a seemingly malicious leer, as he beheld O'Daisy, with the sack slung over his herculean shoulder, take the road towards his lordship's, whistling

--as he went, for want of thought.

"All right, by St. Patrick!" exclaimed Tim, as he slapped his thigh loudly, and ran off, laughing.

As I passed out, I noticed also a fine young pig, asleep in a little basket of hay, placed under a form in the bar. Could it be Dennis's? no, surely, for he was already on his way to Lord Doublechin's. I next proceeded to have one more peep at Mermaid's young family; but here again I was surprised to find one of the number missing! aye, and that, too, one of the finest of the entire litter-fortunately, however, not my favourite choice; it was strange. I passed on, however, without making any enquiry about the matter, and proceeded in search after "contemplation holy," and a good appetite for dinner.

It was not till the cloth had been removed from the dinner table, and the landlord and I were about to discuss the contents of a bowl of excellent punch, that Dennis's return was announced.

When he entered the parlour, his whole face (except his lips, which were of an ashy paleness,) appeared flushed by excitement, and the exercise of rapid walking-heightened, perhaps, by his morning potations;

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No, he did not praise him," replied Dennis ; "and hard for him it would be to do that same."

"Dear me," cried Tim, "that's mighty odd entirely. Oh, now I think I understand you-his lordship, I suppose, was from home-you did not see himself?"

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Aye, but I did see himself though. But let me ax you, Tim Casey, how the div'l could he praise the pig, when there was no pig there?"

"Good heavens! Dennis, I hope nothing has happened to him? I hope you fetched him safe?" said the landlord, in apparent anxiety for the safety of the pig.

"Safe is it you say? to be sure I fetched him safe! but what the divil good was there in that?"

"I don't-I can't understand at-allyou at-all, Dennis a-vich," said the landlord again.

Dennis leaned half across the table, and, in a tone as startling as Macready's whisper in Macbeth, when he has " done the deed," replied, "By Jabers! if you only knew what happened!"

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Nothing bad, I hope?" said I; by way of interrogatory. I was answered, however, Hibernice by another question.

"Bad? Didn't I often tell your honour that I often tould my master that no good could ever come av the likes?"

"The like of what?" asked our host. "I mane,” replied Dennis, "the likes av sich doins as he goes on wid, among thim as differs from huz in the regard av their bleef-I mane those as doesn't belong to the thrue church. Didn't I often and often tell him that sooner or later himself

or his cattle would be overlooked". And didn't he always pursume to laugh at me for telling him the thruth? and thruth it was for me! and thruth it is!"

"Why, Dennis, what has happened?" said I.

"You see, Sir," answered Dennis, "I'll just tell you the whole av what tuk place betune his lordship and me, during the interview that I gev him this morning.

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My Lord,' says I, going up to him, where he was walking on the bawn out forminst his own door,- My lord,' says I, taking off my cawbeen, and making a purlite scrape with my right leg at the same time, My lord,' says I, 'here's a slip of a pig,' says I, 'that my master desired me,' says I, to pursent to your lordship,' says I; and here's a taste of letter,' says I, to be delivered in your lordship's own hands,' says I, at the same time with the pig,' says I.

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"Oh! Dennis,' says he, that's right,' says he; 'you're a fine fellow,' says he;

thank you!' says he; 'your master is too good,' says he; 'much obliged-much obliged-much obliged!' says he, 'Hum!' says he, reading the master's letter then.

"Ah! then, by my sowl!' says I, (interrupting him, as soon as I saw he had finished), 'it's himself that's the fine pig, my lord!' says I.

"You needn't be after saying that, Dennis,' says he, 'for your master never had any other, Dennis,' says he; and I bleeve, Dennis,' says he, 'it's your own care we're to thank for it,' says he.

“❝ Divil a truer thing than that,' says I, 'ever you said afore, Sir,' says I'I ах pardon, my lord, I mane,' says I; 'but the proof of the pudd'n's in the aiting av it,' says I, and so I'll just give your lordship one peep,' says I, 'that'll do your heart good,' says I.

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"So, with that, I up and I untied the mouth of the sack-not unspecting that nothing at-all at-all was wrong—and thin I jist shuk him out in this manner like, forminst his lordship, a-top av the little grass-plat where we was standing; but, a-hagur, the blessed Crass of Christ about us! They had 'morphosed him into a dog unknowns to me, while he was in the sack -(I suppose being vexed in the regard av where I was bringing him)-'morhosed him into a dog, by gorra! as nate and clane

* i. e. made subject to an evil spell.

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