riches of past ages were classified and arranged in marvellous and brilliant assortment. When, by the creditable liberality of his executors, you shall have been put in possession of his writings and posthumous papers, you will find that I do not exaggerate; for though his mere conversation was always instructive, still, the pen in his hand, more potent than the wand of Prospero, embellished every subject with an aërial charm; and whatever department of literature it touched on, it was sure to illuminate and adorn, from the lightest and most ephemeral matters of the day to the deepest and most abstruse problems of metaphysical inquiry; vigorous and philosophical at the same time that it is minute and playful; having no parallel unless we liken it to the proboscis of an elephant, that can with equal ease shift an obelisk and crack

a nut.

Nor did he confine himself to prose. He was a chosen favourite of the nine sisters, and flirted openly with them all, his vow of celibacy preventing his forming a permanent alliance with one alone. Hence pastoral poetry, elegy, sonnets, and still grander effusions in the best style of Bob Montgomery, flowed from his muse in abundance; but, I must confess, his peculiar forte lay in the Pindaric. Besides, he indulged copiously in Greek and Latin versification, as well as in French, Italian, and High Dutch; of which accomplishments I happen to possess some fine speci

nens from his pen: and before I terminate this paper, I mean to introduce them to the benevolent notice of the candid reader. By these you will find, that the Doric reed of Theocritus was to him but an ordinary sylvan pipe-that the lyre of Anacreon was as familiar to him as the German flute-and that he played as well on the classie chords of the bard of Mantua as on the Cremona fiddle; at all events, he will prove far superior as a poet to the covey of unfledged rhymers who nestle in annuals and magazines. Sad abortions! on which even you, O Queen, sometimes take compassion, infusing into them a life

"Which did not you prolong,

• The world had wanted many an idle song.”

To return to his conversational powers: he did not waste them on the generality of folks, for he despised the vulgar herd of Corkonians with whom it was his lot to mingle; but when he was sure of a friendly circle, he broke out in resplendent style, often humorous, at times critical, occasionally profound, and always interesting. Inexhaustible in his means of illustration, his fancy was an unwasted mine, into which you had but to sink a shaft, and you were sure of eliciting the finest ore, which came forth stamped with the impress of genius, and fit to circulate among the most cultivated auditory: for though the mint of his brain now and then would issue a

strange and fantastic coinage, sterling sense was sure to give it value, and ready wit to promote its currency. The rubbish and dust of the schools with which his notions were sometimes incrusted did not alter their intrinsic worth; people only wondered how the diaphanous mind of Prout could be obscured by such common stuff: its brightness was still undiminished by the admixture; and like straws in amber, without deteriorating the substance, these matters only made manifest its transparency. Whenever he undertook to illustrate any subject worthy of him, he was always felicitous. I shall give you an in

stance.

There stands on the borders of his parish, near the village of Blarney, an old castle of the M'Carthy family, rising abruptly from a bold cliff, at the foot of which rolls a not inconsiderable stream the fond and frequent witness of Prout's angling propensities. The well-wooded demesne, comprising an extensive lake, a romantic cavern, and an artificial wilderness of rocks, belongs to the family of Jeffereys, which boasts in the Dowager Countess Glengall a most distinguished scion; her ladyship's mother having been immortalised under the title of "Lady Jeffers," with the other natural curiosities produced by this celebrated spot, in that never-sufficiently-to-be-encored song, the Groves of Blarney. But neither the stream, nor the lake, nor the castle, nor the village (a sad

ruin! which, but for the recent establishment of a spinning-factory by some patriotic Corkonian, would be swept away altogether, or possessed by the owls as a grant from Sultan Mahmoud); -none of these picturesque objects has earned such notoriety for "the Groves" as a certain stone, of a basaltic kind rather unusual in the district, placed on the pinnacle of the main tower, and endowed with the property of communicating to the happy tongue that comes in contact with its polished surface the gift of gentle insinuating speech, and soft talk in all its ramifications, whether employed in vows and promises light as air, επεα πτεροεντα, such as lead captive the female heart; or elaborate mystification of a grosser grain, such as may do for the House of Commons; all summed up and characterised by the mysterious term Blarney.*

*To Crofton Croker belongs the merit of elucidating this obscure tradition. It appears that in 1602, when the Spaniards were exciting our chieftains to harass the English authorities, Cormac M'Dermod Carthy held, among other dependencies, the castle of Blarney, and had concluded an armistice with the lordpresident, on condition of surrendering this fort to an English garrison. Day after day did his lordship look for the fulfilment of the compact; while the Irish Pozzo di Borgo, as loath to part with his stronghold as Russia to relinquish the Dardanelles, kept protocolising with soft promises and delusive delays, until at last Carew became the laughing-stock of Elizabeth's ministers, and 'Blarney talk" proverbial. It is a singular coincidence, that

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Prout's theory on this subject might have remained dormant for ages, and perhaps been ultimately lost to the world at large, were it not for an event which occurred in the summer of 1825, while I (a younker then) happened to be on that visit to my aunt at Watergrasshill which eventually secured me her inheritance. The occurrence I am about to commemorate was, in truth, one of the first magnitude, and well calculated, from its importance, to form an epoch in the Annals of the Parish. It was the arrival of SIR WALTER SCOTT at Blarney, towards the end of the month of July.

Nine years have now rolled away, and the "Ariosto of the North" is dead, and our ancient constitution has since fallen under the hoofs of the Whigs; quenched - Prout is many a beacon-light in church and state himself is no more; and plentiful indications tell us we are come upon evil days: but still may I be allowed to feel a pleasurable, though somewhat saddened emotion, while I revert to that intellectual meeting, and bid memory go back in "dream sublime" to the glorious exhibition of Prout's mental powers. It was, in sooth, a great day for old Ireland; a greater still for Blarney; but, greatest of all, it dawned, Prout, on thee! Then it was that thy light

while Crofty was engaged in tracing the origin of this Irish term, D'Israeli was equally well employed in evolving the pedigree of the English word " Fudge."