45 The mineralogists of Philipothal, East Prussia, have I that is intended to be blasted; when the occurrence of availed themselves of the force of lightning to shiver or the first thunder-storm generally conveys the electric fluid blast the rock instead of gunpowder. For this purpose down the rod in such quantity as to split it into several an iron rod, similar to a conductor, is fixed in the work pieces without displacing it. IRISH ANTIQUITIES. "Few are the remains of neroes or their arms, floating on the ocean of time."-Ossian. No. 3. In addition to the foregoing, we also present our antiquaThe above (No. 1.) is a correct representation of the an- fallainne (or brooch.) The larger specimen of the two was rian friends with two specimens (Nos. 2 and 3) of the dealgcient Irish bodkin, or cloak fibula, of bronze, of a very sin- dug up in the County of Louth; the other was found, along gular construction, and in beautiful preservation, some of with twenty ounces of ornamented gold, in an old burialwhich measure from six to twelve inches in length, dis-ground in the south of Ireland, and is supposed to have covered in 1834, twenty feet beneath the surface of the earth, along with four others of curious workmanship in a moss peat in the vicinity of Ardmagh. been attached to the robes of an ecclesiastic. They are now, already interesting collection they make a valuable addi- as the moth, his favourite luxury, lightly sailed over its tion, and who would feel gratified in exhibiting it to those surface-while the leaves of the aspen were even at times who take an interest in their country's antiquities. In Saunders' News-letter of the 23d of October, 1834, they were more fully described as relics of a high antiquity, illustrating at the same time some of the few valuable remains of the genius, manners, and customs of the primitive inhabitants, "If the aicede in the Brebon laws will admit of being translated, a bodkin, we may infer their use in Ireland about the commencement of the Christian era; for in a code of Sumptuary Laws we find frequent mention made of their use and value."-Vide Walker's Historical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish, vol. II. Sandymount-green. MORTALITY. The number of births is larger than that of deaths in the proportion of twenty-four to twenty. Even when epidemics or other extraordinary causes render the number of deaths much larger than usual during the year, the births, in the following year, are inevitably more numerous in proportion. It is thus that the human race rather increases than decreases in number, and that at the same time each period of life contributes its proper proportion to the demands of the grave. Reflecting, then, that the number of our years is written down even before our birth, we ought to be constantly prepared for our death, but never afraid of it. We cannot tell when the day of our death shall be, and that we cannot defer its approach becomes evident. It behoves, therefore, to be prepared for that which may come at less than an instant's warning, and to reconcile our minds to the endurance of that which sooner or later must be endured. Prince and peasant alike are borne to their last rest, and upon prince and peasant alike is the duty incumbent of so living that they may even at an instant's warning be prepared to die; and all should remember, that even if they live to old age, their death is at hand. THE FALSE STEP. Take the Irish character in whatsoever shade you may, and it still will be found essentially jovial. Fun is their presiding deity; and though that fun often leads to mischief, still it is not the less the object of their worship. Look at their christenings-do they not usher in the morning of life with as much merriment and rejoicing, as if troubles were not in the world, and grief were merely a phantasma of the brain? Look at the central period, as we shall denominate their marriages-where will you see such a scene of festivity? Shouting, dancing, singing, drinking, and, av coorse," fighting, form a part and parcel of this jubilee. And again, look at their wakes do they not drown grief in whiskey, until it is turned even to joy? Do they not enjoy themselves as well in the chamber of death, as they did in the chamber of feasting, and is not the final closing scene, the giving of clay unto clay, hailed as one delicious epoch, dedicated to fun, and what country squires term "jollification ?" Next to this temperament we might place (or, perhaps, before it) their superstitions-the most extraordinary, in idea, of those of any nation in the world, and which, even to those well acquainted with their ways, often are startling and full of novelty. It is needless to say, that "Ould Nick" takes a prominent part in their fancies; and if any one be remarkable for evil actions, it is generally ascribed to his intimacy with the devil. Retribution they imagine sooner or later follows crime; and if punishment or misfortune pursue the guilty, they wisely shake their heads, and say, "Och, musha, we knew id must come about"—"The divil has affairs enough ov his own, an' cudn't always stand his frind," or some such sensible observations. Beneath the shadows of a group of trees, which stood near the borders of an artificial lake on the estate of Sir Edward Law, a slight female form was seen pacing to and fro on a glorious summer evening in the year 18-. All around bore the faint rosy hues of the declining day-the red and golden clouds were reflected in the bosom of the still water, from out which occasionally the roach bounded, at rest; so still and calm, and almost breathless, was the universal repose of nature. Restless were her move ments, as if the spirit which swayed them was borne down by the iron hand of misery, and sought in sudden transition a moment's forgetfulness. Her face was but imperfectly seen, from the hood of her cloak being drawn over it; but her feet were small, and her figure (defined as it was) round and graceful. She occasionally would cease in her walk, and listen with the most breathless intensity opposite an opening in the trees, which commanded a view of the country round, and then turn back with hasty gesture of disappointment, as though some one expected ought to have arrived ere then. As twilight began to fade, and the shadows of the shrubs to become indistinct and gloomy, a hasty step was heard ringing on the silence, and she half bounded forward, but then checked herself, and stood in an attitude of disconsolate hopelessness, as a young man, clad in undress uniform, approached. He was handsome and showy, but there was a reckless libertinism in his flushed features, and a cunning licentiousness in his dark eye, that bespoke one not imbued with strict or upright principle. "An' so, Henry," she said, in a low, broken accent, you've thought ov comin' at last. Oh, nevir did I suppose you'd change, an' forget all yer promises an' vows! Bud no!-I-I was then pure-an'--I'm nou"——a choking sigh was the sole completion of the sentence. fast as I could! Why, my little bird of Paradise, you know I came as But what occurred, darling, that you so particularly required to see me―eh ?" "We must part!" sobbed the poor girl, evidently with great effort. "Part, Maggy!" I'm a "Yis, Henry!" she replied, more firmly-" part-an' for evir! I've woke from my dhrame, an' I've found that sarpints wor twined round the flowers which I loved. My guilt my black guilt is now bared before me. graceless wretch, for whom prayers id be offered in vainwhose sin no tears, no mournin', no pinance, evir could wash out." Another gush of bitter tears prevented her proceeding. "Come, come, now, Maggy," this is only the folly of a moment! You know, your Henry is" "Base an' desateful!" she bitterly added, as the remembrance of her wrongs swept through her soul, already lacerated by its own feelings of remorse. Maggy, do you speak to me thus ?" "Yis, yis," she rapidly and almost hysterically criedmy heart's feelins won't stay down-its burstin' wid them, an' I must, I will spake! Didn't you come to my happy, an', till then, peaceable home? Didn't you seek for me afore I evir seen you? Didn't you follow me to the fields whinevir I wint out? Fool, fool that I was evit to pass the threshhold! Didn't you flatther me an' cajole me, an' sware you loved me, an' nevir would part from me? Didn't you buy me dandy ribbons wid your unlucky goold? Didn't you make me vain an' proud, an' tell me that I should be dhressed in satins, an' silks, an' muslins? An', oh, fool that I was! didn't you make me what I am-miserable an' guilty-unpitied, scoffed atheart-broken, an' sinful ?" He for a short time appeared somewhat moved, as these accusations, all so true, were vividly and passionately laid before him, and advancing, took her listless hand, which she attempted not to pull from him, and whispered 66 Maggy, I don't mean to blame you when I say, we have both acted imprudently; and I think, as you wish it, that it would be better for us at once to part!" "Yis, yis, Henry-I know it would! We will!—we will!" she inarticulately muttered, scarcely at the time conscious of what she said. "You shall never want, while I live, either a comforter or a friend-I will provide for both yourself and mother ; and when married" "Married!" she shrieked-" who married?" "Why, my father, Maggy, insists that I marry immedi ately." With a violent effort she here disengaged her hand-from inel his grasp; and sank, overpowered by her feelings, on the soft and warm sunlight, a small cloud obscure one spot is brightness and glare? Such was the appearance of the The cause of his late lengthy absences and estrange- cottage where Maggy Murphy and her mother resided, a ment-the reason of his never seeking her as usual, had few weeks after the circumstances we have related. It swept with thought's velocity through her mind. She felt. was not, as heretofore, silent, lone, and neglected; for a that she was deceived-and deceived by a villain, who, group of poorly clad peasants were lounging round it, while plotting her destruction, was, perhaps, engaged to conversing in low tones, and not laughing or joking, as in another; and her tongue clave to her jaws-respiration general, whenever assembled, no matter for what purpose. seemed impeded-and the tree, the water, all swam indis- The cloud passed away, and again the full glow of light tinctly before her eyes, from which the scalded tears si- rested on the white walls, as a coffin was slowly borne from lently trickled down her wasted cheeks. Nerveless the open door; and except one low wail, broken by hyspulseless almost without strength as she seemed, the teric sobbing, there was no keen, as is usual over the bier moment he a second time advanced, she sprang to her of the deceased-that wail came from poor Maggie, who feet-waved him off with her arm-and with the single followed then the remains of her broken-hearted mother, exclamation of "Black, black villian !" ran wildly through with the pang-the dreadful, burning pang--agonising her the clump of trees towards the fields leading to her now brain, that her guilt had shortened the days of her sole miserable home. He paused for a moment, gazing in the remaining, widowed parent. Such a grief must be maddirection she proceeded; and then, without speaking, de-ness! The plain deal coffin was borne by four aged men, parted the way he had come, and entered his father's friends of the dead in her youth, now bearing her cold house with a smile on his cheek, and whistling an opera remains to their last resting-place, their grey hair and furtune, as if nothing had occurred. rowed cheeks telling that they themselves should soon fol. low; and Maggy kept close behind it-her face hidden in the fold of her loose cloak, as if she would thus hide her shame from the world, and her bosom heaving with suppressed and choking sobs. None of the crowd came near or addressed her, as they slowly followed the funeral in the direction of the ancient grave-yard. The females of the party seemed to keep even at a distance from her, as if they did not wish any communication; and when she turned but once, and noticed it, a shudder at the desolateness of her situation, added to the remorse and agony she felt. Henry was the only son of Sir Edward Law, who held several large estates in this country; and on his return from the university, having testified an inclination for the army, was gratified with a commission. Thrown then, as he was, all unprepared, into the vortex of dissipated society, all the early feelings of his mind were warped, and he pursued whatever seemed to promise him an instant's pleasure-never heeding the means, if affording pleasure in the result. Maggy Murphy, whose mother, a widow, resided in a small cabin on his father's estate, had caught his eye at some rustic fete, whither, with some brother officers, he vent for "a lark," and being pretty and demure-looking, attracted his attention. He paid her attention several times afterwards-made her presents-aroused the serpent, vanity, in her heart-and, finally, triumphed over her virtue, heedless of the utter ruin and disgrace he heaped on her, and reckless of all, save the pursuance of his inclinations. Soon did he begin to tire even of her fondness for true it is, purity of soul is the only sure foundation of a lasting attachment-and this aroused the fearful suspicion of neglect in her bosom-a suspicion she strove in vain, though with agony, to spurn. Distracted as she was, she determined at last that it was better for them to part, and the interview we have just described took place, when new agonies were heaped upon her burning brain, to imagine that all his professions were soulless, and that he was thinking of being united to another, even while subduing the feeble barrier of her resolution. So it was his cousin, an amiable girl, being under his father's roof, was betrothed to him from a child, and then wanted but a few years of being of age, when they were to be united. He was much attached to her; and yet, so loose were his principles, it did not prevent his proceeding in the ruin of the innocent Maggy, Oh! call tiously and watchfully should the young and the beautiful guard every impulse and emotion. Sin is too often an asp hidden in the brightest tinted flowers, and of whose baneful presence they know not, till warned-alas, too lateby the poison of its sting. Pleasures, and joys, and alurements, spread out their glittering mesh to entice the unguarded to enter, and the path of rectitude once diverged from, is seldom, if ever, again regained. Wisely ath it been written (as we can see in daily instances) hat "Every woe a tear can claim, Except an erring sister's shame." The blight of dishonour once stamped upon a maiden's heek, friends and relatives all shrink from and disown her. ity flies without a sigh, and contempt usurps her station their hearts. Let those who peruse this tale, think of e fate brought on poor Maggy by one false step. Think a naturally fond heart being turned from fervent love deadly hate, and ponder in their own hearts on the arning such an example should give. Reader, have you ever observed on a summer's day, en hills, and streams, and valleys are glowing in the In another part of that country, which they had to pass on their way to the burying-place, another and a far different scene was then acting. At the altar of the little church, Henry Law, with cheek of health and eye of lustre, stood beside the beautiful form of his cousin Agnes, while the clergyman, with uplifted hands, blessed their union, and his proud father felt young again in the happiness of his children. Her face was alternately red and pale, and her long lashes rested modestly on her cheek, veiling the beautiful azure of her eyes, and displaying the softness of the large pearly lid, with its delicate tracery stained glass rested dazzlingly on her satin dress, and in its of blue veins. The sun glowing through the windows of rays her silky hair shone like strings of gold. She was a bride a monarch might be proud of; and as the excited Henry received her willing hand, he thought not of Maggy-the poor and humble Maggy-whose peace of mind he had for ever wrecked. The richly appointed 'carriage, with its grinning and gaudily attired footmen and their wedding favors, was about to issue from the avenues leading to the porch of the church, when a crowd suddenly turning from one of the leaned forward to demand the reason of the delay, and his passages outside blocked up the way. Henry in anger tim's sole parent, and then quailed as they met the glazed eyes rested on the coffin containing the remains of his vicand stony glance of the once courted and flattered Maggie. She was petrified. She saw the wedding favors. She saw the lovely Agnes in white at his side, and then the view was for a moment intercepted by the coffin wherein was interred her every hope. A terrible revulsion of feeling took place in her bosom-bitterness of hate and gall took the place of silent despair, and though one involuntary and terrible shriek burst from her lips, she was silent and moved forward-her leaden eye glaring on him till they past, and her heart vowing deep and terrible vengeance-to meet at the entrance of the graveyard, when, overwhelmed with grief for her poor mother's death, caused by her sin, a gay and gaudy cavalcade honoring the wedding of her seducer, turned in an instant all kindly feelings back withered on her heart. She forgot even death and its terrors. She remembered not that it was a parent she followed. She thought only of him-of Henry, happy and full of delight, and, forgetful of all the misery, the tears, the wretchedness he had caused, she could have sprang upon him like a tiger deprived of its young-she could have knelt to curse him-she could have torn him limb from limb, but she only gave the one bitter shriek, and afterwards spoke not-the vulture was in her soul, and the untameable hyena kept gnawing at her heart! "Ids a quare omen that, neighbour," observed one bystander to another, as they were lowering the coffin into the grave," Masther Henery and his purty bride afthur lavin' th' althar to have to give way to the berrin! I don't like it." "Faix nor I either," was the answer, " they shud have dhrew back tin paces with us any how in the regard ov th' ould custom." "Av coorse they should; but these quollity people don't Much mind huz. God keep them from harm howsomdever." "Did you evir in all your born days see such a look as Maggie gev him-och bud it was enuff to freeze the sowl ov him; and do you know I'm thinkin' we wor right in conjecthurin that he's the villain misled her tho' she denies id so black!" "The poor colleen," answered he addressed, “musha may the blessed Vargin be her support in this day ov throuble, an' keep her from meditatin' revenge-look, avourneen, look at her eyes now!" Their lustre had all sped, they were distended to their fullest extent dull, cold, and glassy as the orbs of the dead, and fixed on vacancy as if she dared not gaze on the grave now beginning to be filled with earth, her head drooped not, her hands hung stiffly by her side, and the only sign of life she gave was the quick gaspish respiration of her breath. "There's no good in that look neighbour; id shows that the heart athin her buzzom is stone. God pity thim that feel so, an' punish thim that cause id!" She stood on the threshold of a relative's door, and when she at first tried to speak, the effort almost choked her. She was refused-rejected-spurned, and with bitter scorn, desired to seek her wealthy lover. A tear started to her eye, but did not flow, she folded her hands meekly over her bosom, bowed her head in silence, and departed, and never again was seen in the village: whither she went, none could tell; and, alas! none felt suf ficient interest in her fate, even to enquire after her. oh, to what one false step may lead! Henry was thoughtless, wild, and extravagant, and coming suddenly, as he did, into the possession of immense wealth, he squandered it, and dashed away, as if it never could have an end: his demands on his steward for money became frequent, and the consequence was, the tenants were pressed for their rent, and murmuring against this began to be pretty loudly heard. This officer was not of honest principle, and so as he procured the cash for his employer, and occasionally pocketed some himself, he cared not by what means; leases held by old and respectable tenants, when their time expired, he always de layed about renewing, sometimes rising the rent, and sometimes threatening to do so, unless his good will was gained by a bribe. These proceedings soon made both himself and his master obnoxious to all, and in that part, till then, so peaceable, stacks began to burn, cattle to be houghed, and other testimonies to be given of the grow ing hatred of a vindictive people. Henry was made furious by these proceedings, and inflamed the people more and more by the measures he took for redress; and, in fact, it came to such a pitch at last, that his life was frequently threatened, and his house attempted to be fired. Such was the state of things about The green sods were fixed upon the low mound, the one year after his father's death. About this time, as he only trace of a grave that remained, and the spectators, was one evening sitting opposite his lovely wife, previous one by one, dropped away, till poor Maggie, the orphan to his retiring to bed, and engaged in reading, he was and the guilty one, was left alone, none having asked her suddenly started by a loud knocking at the outside door. to accompany them-none having offered her an asylum in His wife was alarmed; for so many threatening notices their house! She cast herself upon the loose earth beside had been served, that she dreaded every stir, and springthe mound, she pressed her lips against the rank grass, and ing up as he laid his hand on the bell to summon a serher long damp hair, matted from exposure and neglect, vant, implored him not to leave her. She had scarcely spotangled in the nettles and deadly nightshade that grew ken till a loud pistol report was heard, and in an instant near. Day passed, evening came, and night wrapped the more the sashes of the window were dashed to pieces, and world in mantle of gloom, and still did the daughter keep several ruffians sprang into the room, their number defyher lonely vigil, shrinking not from the damp dews-ing opposition. Henry, who attempted to keep them forgetting the fears of her childhood's fancy, in a kind of lethargic stupor, without an idea, a notion, despairing and alone. The night, thus passed by her, was one scene of revelry and feasting in the dwelling of Sir Edward Law. Henry was the gayest of the gay, his bride the merriest of the merry, and music and dancing and song lightened the heart and intoxicated the senses! Oh, 'tis ever thus, joy and happiness ring their silver bells, and sound their loud clarions over the festivities of some, while grief and desolation hang their black and dreary pall on the wailing hearts of their stricken fellow-creatures! But 'tis not equally thus the happy and revelling feasters, clad in their robes of purple and gold, feel even for a moment for the bereavements, the tears and the sufferings of their fellows, in sackcloth and ashes! Sir Edward Law did not long survive to enjoy the happiness of his son; for one short month after the wedding, he received an apoplectic stroke, and died; leaving his beloved Henry, sole heir to his large possessions. Time, the universal comforter, soon allayed the first grief of the husband and his young wife, and pleasure again began to reign in their dwelling. Strange! how, when once the grave closes over us, we are, with all our acquirements, forgotten! from his wife, received a blow that laid him senseless, and, as they thought, dead at her feet. The servant, ere he could escape from the room, was mortally stabbed with a rusty bayonet, and the shrieking Agnes seized and bound, while others of the party proceeded through the house to prevent the servants from giving the alarm. The work of plunder then commenced, and soon was concluded. The villains with their booty assembled in the apartment they had first broken into, but had scarcely entered it, when the tramp of horses was heard, and, with one shout of, "The sojers are on us," the fearful guilty villains rushed forth and fled. A short time after one of the nightly patroles which Henry had, much to the dissatisfaction of the people, created, arrived. They had been attracted by the shot, and providentially were the tramp of their horses heard, to deter the villains from further bloodshed. Henry, who was only stunned, soon recovered, to the delight of his young wife, but she never perfectly recovered the fright and terror she underwent, and died in giving birth to a child, leaving him alone, with conscience gnawing him keenly at his soul, demanding retribution for past actions. The ruffians who were concerned in the attack were nearly all taken, and suffered separately for their crimes, and the memory of poor Maggy yet lives amongst the inhabitants of the village. DENIS O'DONOHO. Maggy, the guilty and deserted Maggy, rejected with scorn, money, and other necessaries, which Henry sent her, thinking thus to make atonement for the misery he had been the cause of; and shunned as she was by the neighbours-visiting none, and by none visited, she had a lonely and a dreary time to pass; weeping over her fault, as if tears again could restore her peace of mind. But Dublin: Printed and Published by P. D. HARDY, 3, Cecilia-street; to once did she seek the haunts of her friends in that neighbourhood; it was when all her resources became exhausted, and the poor girl, reared in comfort, went forth to beg' whom all communications are to be addressed. In London, by Richard Groombridge, 6, Panyer-alley, Paternoster-row The learned and munificent Provost of Trinity College, Dublin, Doctor Francis Andrews, having bequeathed to the College £3000, and £250 per annum, towards the building of an Observatory, and furnishing it with proper instruments, which sum was to arise from an accumulation of a part of his property, to commence upon a particular contingency happening in his family, the College, to hasten the execution of the plan, advanced from their own funds a sum considerably exceeding the original bequest; and having elected the Rev. H. Ussher as Professor, sent him to England to order from Mr. Ramsden the best instruments, without limitation of price. Those ordered were, a transit instrument of four feet axis, and six feet focal length, bearing four inches and a quarter aperture, with different magnifying powers; an entire circle of ten feet diameter, moveable on a vertical axis, for measuring altitudes; an equatorial instrument, the circles being five feet diameter; and an achromatic telescope, mounted on a polar axis, and carried by an heliostatic movement, for occasional observations. The transit instrument arrived as ordered, while Dr. Ussher was Professor; but the great circle for altitudes was not sent from London till many years afterwards, in the time of his successor, the Rev. Dr. Brinkley, now Bishop of Cloyne, who made with it his observations upon the parallax of the fixed stars. This circle was begun, as ordered, with a diameter of ten feet; but was reduced by VOL IV. NO. 7. Ramsden to nine feet, and afterwards to eight feet, of which last size it was finished by Ramsden's successor, Berge. Only one other astronomical circle, so large as this, has been ever made, namely, that which was finished for Cambridge a few years ago, but which is not capable of moving in azimuth like the Dublin circle. The two remaining instruments, ordered by Dr. Ussher, were never sent from London; but the late Christopher Sharp of Dublin, had almost completed before he died, an equatorial instrument with heliostatic movement, conceived and executed in a style which does great honor to his memory. This instrument carries an achromatic telescope, furnished by Caûchoix of Paris, of which the object-glass is composed of a convex quartz, and a concave flint lens, and exceeds five inches in aperture. The Observatory possesses also an excellent achromatic telescope by Dollond, and clocks by Arnold and Sharp. The next point to be considered was the arrangement of the building, and the most commodious disposition of the instruments, so as to give to each a situation justly suited to the particular observations to be made. Without loss of time, the Observatory was erected on Dunsink Hill, about four miles north-west of Dublin Castle, and about seventy yards above the level of the sea. It is founded on a solid rock of limestone of some miles extent, which, near the Observatory, rises to within six inches of the surface. The horizon is remarkably 49 |