off abruptly, a short way above the roof, it has nothing imposing in its altitude. The entire length of the structure from east to west is 545 feet. Many parts of the fine old wall are in a state of great decay, from the effects of time or the weather, and it is to be hoped that the dean and chapter will spare a trifle to restore them. From the snug and sunny recesses of the cathedral close, we wander through a labyrinthine alley and bystreet to the college of William of Wykeham, which is perhaps the more interesting of the two. The college, it is necessary to premise, is only a school of a high order for Latin and Greek; and being endowed for the benefit of "seventy poor scholars," is now very properly devoted to the education of young gentlemen, preparatory for the university. Having served as a model for the schools of Westminster and Eton, and lasted upwards of four centuries unimpaired, the institution is unquestionably the oldest of the kind in England. If we wish to know what was the nature of school-instruction in the middle ages, here we may see it in full operation. The buildings and grounds are situated on the verge of the green vale of the Itchin, in the lower environs of the town, and cover a number of acres, the whole being enclosed with sheltering walls. In front, close upon the street, are the principal buildings, all of an old Gothic character, with a spacious gateway, through which we are admitted to a court, and from that we penetrate to an inner court, where the splendid old chapel and antique hall are before us. Having inspected the chapel, with its exquisite furnishings of stalls and benches of black oak, and its elegantly painted windows, we pass on to the refectory or mess-room, which we reach by a flight of steps. Here the scholars dine in the style which was in fashion five hundred years since. The tables being covered, we observed that, instead of plates of stoneware or metal, each boy was provided with a small square piece of wood without a ledge, from which he had to eat his food. This punctual adherence to minute and trifling regulations, while great purposes are apt to be neglected, is quite of a piece with the whole system of the old educational establishments in England. How puerile the conceit that there is any virtue in eating off a wooden board instead of a Delft trencher ! parting from the college of the pious Wykeham, I could not but acknowledge that it formed a rare and valuable object of antiquity, which I should lament to see impaired or injured; but I at the same time felt the full force of the error of so splendid and extensive an establishment doing so little as boarding and educating only seventy "poor scholars" of questionable poverty. This, however, is trenching on a topic which we may shortly have an opportunity of discussing on its own proper merits. From the college of Wykeham we are offered a remarkably pleasant walk to the hilly grounds on the east, or, if we prefer it, a stroll down the meadow to the Hospital of St Cross. At Winchester, one so often hears of St Cross, that there is no resisting the desire to see the hospital so named, which is only a mile to the southward. I selected the best of all times for the excursion, namely, the hour of mid-day meal. The day, also, was one of the finest of the season, and well suited for making a loitering pilgrimage among blossoming hedge-rows, and down cool alleys of trees environed by green paddocks of luxuriant-looking pasture, to the secluded spot. Conceive us, at length, brought up in front of the old grey pile of buildings, with its huge gateway, outhouses, and other buildings, the whole forming an old monastery, only that lay paupers instead of monks are the inhabitants. The Hospital of St Cross was first founded and endowed in the year 1136, by Henry de Blois, Bishop of Winchester, and brother of King Stephen. The founder's charter of institution required that thirteen poor decayed men, past their strength, so that without assistance they could not maintain themselves, should have continual residence in the hospital, and be provided with proper clothing and other necessaries, and a daily allowance of good wheaten bread and small beer. Besides these thirteen indigent brethren, the charter required that one hundred others, the poorest that could be found in Winchester, should be provided every day with a loaf of bread, three quarts of small beer, and two messes for their dinner, in a hall appointed for the purpose. On the anniversary of the founder's decease, August 9th, several hundreds of poor persons were also to be entertained, in addition to the ordinary number. It appears that shortly after its institution, the hospital property was greatly dilapidated by the Knights Hospitallers of St John of Jerusalem, and was not effectually rescued from the fangs of these and other intruders till Wykeham took charge of the patrimony, and restored the privileges of the establishment. In 1444, Cardinal Beaufort added to the wealth of the endowment, and almost entirely rebuilt the structure as we now see it. To the house, so renovated and strengthened, he gave the title of the Alms-house of Noble Poverty. Again, after Beaufort's time, during the struggles of the rival factions of York and Lancaster, St Cross was fleeced of its revenues and possessions by the former Before leaving the institution, the visiter is con- of these parties; and as no one afterwards thought fit ducted into an outer room adjoining the college kit- to make good its losses, we find the Alms-house of chen, to view an odd kind of painting on the wall, Noble Poverty in the enjoyment of only a scrap of its commonly called "The Trusty Servant." The object ancient possessions. This scrap, however, affords a represented is an ideal being resembling an ancient tolerable picking; it is enough to maintain a master, serving man, but having the head of a pig, with a steward, chaplain, and a few subordinate functionaries, padlock on the mouth, the ears of an ass, and the feet along with thirteen brethren, whose support is the of a deer; in the left hand are held a shovel, pitch- ostensible object of the charity. These brethren are fork, currycomb, and broom. Beneath are some quaint men in the decline of life, and, excepting that they Latin rhymes, which are thus rendered in English-wear the badge of pauperism, there seems nothing to the hint, it will be perceived, is a pretty good admonition : From the dining-hall, we proceed to a court-yard, the third in the series, in which is the school of the institution, and adjoining it the most antique part of the whole fabric-namely, the cloisters, or covered walks, enclosing a spacious quadrangle, and consisting of old Gothic buildings. In the centre of this secluded grassy square, stands a small, I should say a miniature, chapel of ancient architecture, which now forms the library of the institution. I entered this interesting place, and found that the books were all in the dead languages, bound chiefly in vellum, and therefore quite appropriate to the scene. "A trusty servant's portrait would you see, Himself and master he'll protect from harm." Wykeham's college contains, besides the scholars on the foundation, a certain number of young men named "commoners," who are educated under the care of the head master, on the terms of a boarding-school. The institution is subject to the regulation and annual visitation of the warden and fellows of New College, Oxford, of which, in fact, it is the elementary branch. I can say nothing of the routine of instruction. The scholars and masters are dressed in black caps and gowns, in the style of Oxonians, and are subject to similar rules of discipline. The singing boys of the cathedral act as fags for the establishment. On de lament in their condition: each is dressed in a black woollen gown, on the left breast of which is attached a cross of silver, and in this guise they may be observed lingering about the roadsides in the neighbourhood. ter's domicile, we enter an open and spacious quadrangle, bounded on our left with an ancient edifice, having in its front a cloister or covered walk, where exercise may be taken to a limited extent in bad weather; at the further extremity, on the same side, is the church, and beyond it, the meadows dotted over with massive trees, which close the view in this direction. On the other two sides are ranged the neat stone buildings of the hospital, two storeys in height, and ornamented with fig-trees and vines loaded with young fruit, and expanded in full leaf to the brilliant sun. Turning to the right to inspect this department of the institution, in which is the house of the steward and domiciles of the brethren, we arrive in the first place at an old stone porch, which projects over a few steps that lead to the kitchen and dining hall. Having ascended to this latter apartment, we find it to be a very perfect specimen of the monastic refectories of former days, and that it possesses much to excite interest. The lofty roof is of old oak; over the doorway is a gallery of the same material, where, anciently, the benediction was sung, and whence, also, on particular festivals, the sound of minstrelsy enlivened the banquet. On the wall, at the opposite end of the apartment, there is attached a wooden case resembling a cupboard, and the two leaves or doors which enclose it being reverently opened by the portress, we have before us a travelling altar-piece of extreme antiquity. The painting, which represents the Virgin and Child, and some other figures, is of the Albert Durer style of delineation, and such has been the care bestowed on its preservation, that the colours are as clear and brilliant in effect as they were centuries ago. Before leaving the hall, we were shown a number of antique vessels still in use, including two leathern stoups or black jacks for ale, which we were assured were three centuries old. The hall is at present used only in allotting and distributing the food of the inmates, who now enjoy the privilege of carrying their doles to their respective lodgings. This concession to modern habits is of importance to the married men who receive the bounty of the establishment. At the period of my visit, the brethren were engaged in the agreeable duty of carrying off their dinner, with bread and beer, and the whole place wore the appearance of joyous comfort. Each inmate has three chambers for his use, either on the ground or upper floor, also a patch of garden behind for cultivation or amusement; and, besides his daily allowance, he receives about half-a-crown weekly, and a share of the fines on the renewal of the hospital lands. At Christmas, Easter, the obit of the founder, and one or two other occasions annually, they enjoy a festival of more than usual hilarity, and, upon the whole, I should consider that they lead as easy and useless a life as any monk who ever wore cowl, and loitered away existence in a cloister. Having thus disposed of the brethren in their snug vine-clad domiciles, like so many bees in their wellstocked hives, we step across the green turf of the court-yard to the tall old church, which next invites our attention. To antiquaries, the ecclesiastical structure will seem the most interesting of all parts of St Cross's establishment. It was founded and partly built by Henry de Blois, brother, as we have said, of King Stephen, and finished by the pious Wykeham. To a superficial observer, it will appear only a damp, cold, and plainly fitted-up church, in the usual form of cross aisles; but those who are desirous of studying the early efforts of the architect to realise what afterwards became the pure Anglo-Gothic style, will be delighted with various points in the structure. We observe, in the lofty central choir, a similar blending of the round and lance-shaped arches which distinguish the older portion of the cathedral, and embody varied specimens of the Saxon, Norman, and Pointed style. Here, likewise, we behold every ornament appertaining to this early period of architecture-the chevron, the billet, the hatch, the pellet, the fret, the nebulé, down to the wavey, all executed in the best style of art. From these an It is one of the ancient and peculiar usages of St Cross, that when any stranger presents himself at the porter's lodge, and requests the bounty of the establishment, a small tray is put before him, on which is a dole of bread and a horn of beer. The piece of bread, to be sure, is very small, and the beer of the poorest possible brewage, still the custom is kept up much in the form it has been since the days of King Stephen. "You must have a good number of visiters in the course of a day," I observed to the old grey-tique architectural devices overhead and on the lower haired porter, as he leant over his wicket, and presented the accustomed offering. "Yes," he replied, "we've a-many at this season; all the trampers of the country come this way; but, by the master's orders, we never give away more than two loaves of bread and two gallons of beer daily-bless you, sir, there's hardly a great family in the country that has not, some time or other, tasted the hospitality of St Cross." On passing from the archway in which is the por walls, we direct our eyes to the pavement, which is in many places composed of ancient tiles of mixed colours, and the art of making which appears to be lost. On some are inscribed the words "Have mynde,” brethren to pray for the souls of their deceased benean admonition probably intended to remind the factors. The church also contains several sepulchral inscriptions on brass; one, placed under the central tower, is that of John de Campden, master of St Cross in 1383. There is, however, a monumental inscription of a still earlier era, being that commemorative of a master named Peters, and bearing the date 1295. Near this tomb, in the open aisle fronting the entrance, is placed a baptismal font, which is supposed originally to have belonged to the church of St Faith, a structure which was taken down in the sixteenth century, when its parochial institutions were annexed to the church of St Cross. In pity to the reader, I must now draw this idle gossip about things of the olden time to a conclusion. I will not tell him how I sauntered for an hour round the precincts of St Cross, inspecting the exterior of the buildings which contained the living, and the burying-ground which afforded a place of repose to the dead. It is enough to say that I viewed the whole as an object of the deepest interest, from its antiquity, and as a singular monument of the benevolence and piety of former times, suffered to remain in an almost unaltered condition to the present day. THE GRATEFUL GYPSY. ONE pleasant morning in the end of October, about There are two camps," he replied. By this description my readers are to understand "She has no father or mother," he replied. sumed Miss Anderson. "No relation," continued the gypsy narrator; "she has followed our people from Yorkshire, where her own folks all died a year a-gone." "Poor child!" said Miss Anderson, and she kindly stroked the cheek of the forlorn and destitute being before her, exclaiming, at the same time, in a half audible voice, "Oh that I were rich !" The girl, apparently unused to tenderness, looked gratefully in the face of the lady now mentioned, and also clung to her gown, whilst her infantine countenance was lighted up with a glow of frolic which neither want nor suffering had altogether subdued. "What is your name?" asked Eliza Wilson, handing her a biscuit as she spoke. "Moggie," answered the child, leaping for joy as she eagerly devoured the young lady's gift. Moggie Ruthven," said one of the boys, "and Moggie is Margaret in print books, folk say." "Oh, Miss Anderson," said her youthful pupil, "if papa would allow Moggie to sit by our kitchen fire; and Peggie would teach her to spin, and let her sleep in her bed at night, and then, you know, I could give her some of my clothes, and I could give her lessons, too, the lessons you have taught me. Oh, dear Miss Anderson, come and let us ask papa." This trait of affectionate feeling on the part of her protegée, delighted the benevolent mind of Eliza's governess, and she expressed herself pleased at her pupil's kindness of heart, now evinced in anxiety to provide for the stranger. You know, my love," said she, "that all that you have is your papa's property, and you have no right to bestow either the dress which he has given you, or to promise accommodation in his house, without his permission. However, we shall hear what he will say to your proposal." Miss Anderson and her pupil accordingly proceeded to the house of Linnfern, where Mr Wilson was seated in his old wainscoted dining-room. Eliza was his only child, the child of his old age, for his years were now We extract the above story, with some slight abridgments, from a volume which we should have brought under the notice of our readers some time ago: it is entitled The Decameron of the West" (Edinburgh-1840), and consists of a series of narrative pieces, strung together after the manner of Miss Lee's Canter: bury Tales. The work is the composition of a lady of modest merit, and possessing no small share of literary acquirements. seventy in number. Very dear was she to her father, and On the following day, one of the farm-servants, who from one of the most ancient families in Derbyshire, and what he considers respectable birth in the marriages of his children, will ever be regarded by him as indispensable. Besides, remember your extreme youth, and strive to resist the sin of disobedience to your parent. If, after the expiration of four years, you find that neither time for my young friend, then you can, with a better grace, nor absence has had power to annihilate your affection implore the consent of Colonel Vincent before marriage, and if denied, his forgiveness after it. Nevertheless, I pray that at present you make no attempt to gain the affections of Margaret, who is possessed of acute sensibility; and your first professing regard for her, and then neglecting her, might prove destructive to the health, nay, perhaps even to the life, of the unhappy girl." The young man promised that, until he should be of wife of another?" "The wife of no one will you ever find me, dear Mr Vincent," replied the girl; "but reasons which I cannot disclose to you, occasion my choice of a single life." "Farewell, then," said he. "I shall not utterly despair of gaining your affections after you have had proof of many years fidelity on my part. Farewell! and may every blessing attend you." Arthur departed, to the great regret of all at Linnfern, and soon afterwards took leave of Old England. Margaret Ruthven with peculiar and devoted attention, Vincent was the only gentleman who had ever treated and she could not be indifferent to his striking preference of her, especially when contrasted with the cold, heartless civilities, which were the utmost she received from the neighbouring gentry. The joyous feelings of early youth, though for a season clouded, soon look forth again from amidst temporary shadows, clad in the sunny radiance of their own brightness. Such was the state of our heroine's mind a few months after the departure of her lover, and her happiness at this time was greatly increased by the anticipated event of Miss Wilson's marriage, thus proving that her conjectures were unfounded as to Eliza's love for Vincent. The gentleman to whom Miss Wilson was about to give parent, belonged to the mercantile profession, and resided in Edinburgh. Mr Allan was not rich, that is to say, he had not realised a fortune; but his business as a general merchant was lucrative, and his prospects at this time were as good as those of other young men who had Regarding the aspect of our heroine, the gypsy-whom chosen the same line of life. A numerous bridal party we shall cease to call Moggie, as that name reminds us of was assembled at Linnfern, on which occasion Margaret her tattered garments and penury, and shall henceforth Ruthven was honoured as the officiating bridesmaid to designate Margaret, or Miss Ruthven-she had now ar- her benefactress. And now, Mrs Allan left her father's rived at the age of sixteen. Her complexion was rather house, amidst the tears of the affectionate old man, while, dark, but this was not unsuitable with the brilliancy at the same time, it may be well believed that the partof her black eyes, the exquisite whiteness of her teeth, ing of the bride herself with him was a sorrowful one, and those delicate aquiline features which at once in- when she considered that she could no longer be condicate a high style of beauty. Her figure was slender stantly present to soothe her father's advanced years. and sylph-like, yet finely rounded, and graceful as that However, this dutiful daughter, before she would consent of a Nautch girl of Hindostan. But let us inquire how to leave her early home, had prevailed on Miss Anderson these charms were regarded by those who visited at to be a constant inmate at Linnfern during the remainder Linnfern. By too many, alas! she was treated with dis-of Mr Wilson's life. This gentleman felt grateful to the tance, and some even evinced contempt for one who was excellent person who had discharged the duties both of worse than nobody, that is, inferior to the daughter of a mother and governess to his child, and in his will he bepoor man or a low man, for she owed her birth to a queathed to her an annuity, to be paid from the rental lawless race of vagrants. of his estate, immediately after his decease. He did still The only sister of Mr Wilson married an English gen-more; knowing Miss Anderson's partiality for Linnfern, tleman, by name Colonel Vincent. She had been some he caused a handsome little cottage to be erected in a time dead, when her youngest son for the first time paid pleasant field, where there were a few straggling trees. a visit to his uncle and cousin. He told them that he Its walls were whitewashed, jessamine and honeysuckle could only be their guest during one month, as he had also covering the front of it; and a pretty little garden been recently appointed to a cadetship in the service of surrounded it behind and before. This was intended as the East India Company, and must therefore quickly the future residence of Miss Anderson, in the event of Mr join his regiment in Bengal. The young soldier was only Wilson's death, and he felt pleased to contemplate, that seventeen; he was frank, open-hearted, and intelligent whenever that should occur, her finances were such as to beyond his years. Eliza Wilson was delighted with enable her to maintain herself without further toil, as Arthur Vincent. Notwithstanding that he was her long as she remianed an inhabitant of this world. junior, she found his conversation instructive as well as entertaining, for he had seen much more of the world than she had done, her duty to her aged father requiring her to be constantly at home, and in the country. He was, besides, more polished in manners than any young man she had hitherto met with, so that Eliza felt great pleasure in the society of her cousin. But it was not love that she experienced. It is not usual, nor at all natural, for a young woman of one-and-twenty to fall in love with a lad of seventeen, although he may be superior to most of his contemporaries. Arthur Vincent, on his part, loved Miss Wilson with the most sincere friendship, but for Margaret Ruthven he entertained an enthusiastic attachment. He was completely captivated with the attrac tions of this lovely young creature, and he made his friend Eliza the confidant of his feelings on the subject. In this sketch of domestic life, we now pass over a period of eleven years, and present the characters considerably altered by time. We shall only speak at pre-her hand, with the entire approbation of her now aged sent of what the revolution of years had done for the junior branches of the happy household of Linnfern. Miss Wilson was now a grown-up young lady, both amiable and handsome, and being of an ancient, though not of a rich family, she had doubtless many suitors. "My dear Arthur," said his cousin, "consider how the aristocratic prejudices of your father would be outraged by the thought of such an union. He is himself descended The time now approached when Margaret Ruthven should leave the hospitable mansion of her kind benefactor, and provide for her own wants by laudable industry. When she had attained the age of seventeen, her friend Mrs Allan procured for her a situation in the metropolis of Scotland. Miss Ruthven was received with much kindness into the family of Mr Alison, a writer to the signet, and she became the preceptress of this gentleman's two daughters. The children very soon loved their governess exceedingly, and the progress they made under her tuition, rendered her a most valuable person in the eyes of their doting parents, who in a short time increased her salary to L.50 per annum, at that time considered a handsome allowance for a young person situated as she was. Margaret had not been many months absent from Linnfern, when her friend Mrs Allan had to mourn the death of her venerable old father; and it may be well supposed that our heroine shed many tears over the grave of her benefactor, whose dissolution, though long expected, was nevertheless a great bereavement to those who had for so many years assembled round his hospitable fireside. His daughter was the sole heiress of Mr Wilson's estate, which was burdened merely with a small annuity to Miss Anderson, who now retired to her woodland cottage. From the date of Mrs Allan's marriage five years had passed rapidly away, and, with the exception of her father's death, no shade of misfortune had in the slightest degree blighted the happiness she enjoyed as the wife of Mr Allan. During this period she had become the mother of three fine children, a boy and two girls. But, alas! earthly prosperity is often fleeting as a summer cloud, which the noonday sun quickly dissipates. The mercantile house in which Mr Allan was a partner, being involved by the failure of several eminent merchants in London, was now declared insolvent. Mrs Allan's landed property was not entailed, nor settled in such a manner as to exclude the right of her husband's creditors to the possession of it. Linnfern was seized by the latter, and quickly advertised for sale. Poor Miss Anderson was now obliged to leave the premises, to lose her annuity, and, what was still more unfortunate, the total savings of her past life, which were in the hands of Mr Allan. The melancholy intelligence of the failure was the occasion of such intense grief to our heroine as to cause a fever, with strong delirium. However, after recovering health and strength, her mental energy resumed its power, and she was not long in designing a plan wherewith to aid both her benefactresses. She thought it but a light matter that all her salary should be transmitted to them, and that for a great length of time she should purchase no new clothes. The profits resulting from the labours of her pencil were now put in requisition for behoof of those The creditors of Mr Allan allowed him what was sufficient to preserve his wife and children from beggary; yet Margaret Ruthven well knew that this lady had been all her life accustomed to many indulgences, which habit had converted into necessaries; and also that Mrs Allan had at present not the means of procuring those comforts. All that our heroine conveyed either to the Allans or Miss Anderson, was done in such a way that the donor could not be detected, lest the industrious earnings of the poor girl should have been declined. Margaret's quondam governess being rather too far advanced in life to render her situation agreeable by entering into the house of strangers in that capacity, chose, in preference, to have a small school for girls; and for this purpose she hired a cheap lodging in the southern part of Edinburgh. The number of her scholars was not considerable, and the pittance she derived from their tuition was inadequate for her maintenance. She would not beg, and must have starved, had it not been for her former pupil, once the little ragged gypsy. she loved. At this time Margaret Ruthven rose with the lark, and never permitted the morning sun to surprise her with closed eyes. Soon after dawn she would start from her pillow, dress herself hurriedly, and prepare her colours, waiting only for sufficient light to commence her labours. Her works sold well, and great was her delight when she found that by this means she could in some degree contribute to the comfort and maintenance of those who had protected her orphan childhood. Linnfern was two years in the market before a purchaser appeared for it. At last Mr Alison, in whose family Margaret Ruthven lived, was commissioned to buy the estate for a gentleman who at that time was residing abroad. It may be supposed that the former inmates of Linnfern were anxious to know to whom their quondam habitation now belonged; but their curiosity was fruitless, as the name of the present possessor was kept secret by his man of business, who in this respect acted according to the wishes of his client. About five years subsequent to the failure of Mr Allan, that gentleman became a second time successful in trade, and his family were now independent of all aid but what he could himself procure for them. Our heroine's affectionate heart being consequently satisfied as to the comfort of the Allans, she still prosecuted her painting, with the view of realising a competence for Miss Anderson, in order that this lady might be able to retire to the country, and relinquish the toil of teaching during the remainder of her life. One morning, when Margaret went to the shop of the carver and gilder where she frequently disposed of her pictures, she observed a gentleman dressed in deep mourning, who seemed from his attitude to be intently examining one of her landscapes. His back was towards her, and, from the bent and rather elderly aspect of the figure, he seemed about forty. However, when he turned round, she observed that he was young, though much emaciated, and apparently in very delicate health. The stranger's eye was scarcely for a moment diverted from his contemplation of the picture. Our heroine felt inclined to remain till after his departure, that she might learn the name of this admirer of her painting. However, a sense of modesty caused her to withdraw, lest she should be afterwards introduced to him as the fair artist. On returning home, Mrs Alison told Margaret that her husband expected a client to dine with him, a gentleman who had just returned from abroad. On entering the drawing-room before dinner, Margaret was surprised to behold the person whom she had seen some hours previously gazing at her landscape. Mrs Alison politely introduced her young friend to the stranger. He bestowed but a momentary glance at her, when immediately he seized her hand, clasped her in his arms, then burst into a flood of tears. With difficulty he at last exclaimed, “Margaret !" The voice fell upon her ear like an electric shock. She in her turn looked attentively in the gentleman's countenance, and it was a little while before even love could recognise, in the shattered appearance of Major Vincent, what was once the youthful form of her beloved Arthur. We shall now suppose the drawing-room of Mr Alison's house emptied of all its inmates save the lovers, eager to hear each other's tale., Major Vincent's history was one of war, repeated | "I am, indeed, willing to make a great sacrifice for OCCASIONAL NOTES. London, Manchester, Liverpool, Glasgow, and Edinburgh, there are thousands of young operatives who are unmarried, and rent a very small apartment wherein they sleep. It is of no use to tell these men to go home after their day's labour is over, and sitting entertaining work. They have neither a parlour to down comfortably by the fire, peruse some good or sit in nor a book to amuse them; perhaps one-half of them cannot even read, or at any rate cannot read with fluency and satisfaction. We know that such is the case. Lecturers on temperance, science, and other subjects, when they recommend their auditors to spend their leisure hours in reading at home, are sometimes told by the operatives that they should be very glad to follow the advice, provided, in the first place, they had fit homes to go to; and in the second, that they could read when they got there. The recommenda tion, therefore, though well meant, is of little practical value. For those who have commodious homes and the means of making them attractive and comfortable, no club-houses of any description are wanted, and, consequently, to them our observations do not apply. We refer only to that large mass of very imperfectly educated, paid, and lodged working men, with which some of our great seats of population abound. Let these, then, we say, imitate the economic principle on which the London club-house system is founded. Club or unite a small portion of your weekly earnings, so as to raise a sum sufficiently large to purchase or rent a commodious set of premises. The house should contain a large sitting apartment, fitted up with tables and benches like a coffeeroom, be well heated, and supplied with newspapers, books, and periodical publications; a separate room, in which a person could read aloud to those who felt disinclined to peruse & paper themselves; a person of respectable character to be appointed as housekeeper and director, who could undertake to supply certain articles of food at a low fixed charge; house to be open from five in the morning till nine in the evening; tea, coffee, or any other liquid not of an intoxicating quality, to be only allowable within the premises. We present this as a rough sketch of the plan and organisation of a club-house for the working classes, and of which one might be established in every district of a large town, according to circumstances. With such an institution, every operative would have it in his power to command a permanent fund of comfort at the minimum of expense. He would eat at least a portion of his food at a trifling advance on the wholesale market price; and he would have a place in which he could spend his leisure hours with advantage, or in harmless and improving recreation. One thing only strikes us as a possible drawback. If married men were to be drawn from the midst of their families to spend their time in such houses, the scheme would be so far injurious. Possibly, there might be such restrictions as to obviate this consequence. At the same time, we are not to consider even the case of the married men as one in which there is home on the one side and a club-house on the other: it is in a great measure a question between the besotting publichouse and the temperate reading-room. The institution would be a kind of temperance coffeeroom, only sustained by the men themselves, and furnished with every thing at cost-price. principle is confined to objects of a less aspiring nature. in their design, as respects the mental cultivation of Mechanics' institutions have, generally speaking, failed the working classes. It is discovered that but a small proportion of the members are mechanics; the greater number being in reality shopkeepers and young pertunity of procuring scientific education at a cheap sons of a miscellaneous order, who embrace the opporrate. Such a result might have been foreseen; the bulk of the operative classes, when released from their daily toil, have no relish for abstract studies. They require to be amused and cheered; and as nothing in the form of harmless amusement falls in their way, they adjourn, as a matter of course, to the publichouse, or loiter away their time idly in the open street. A proposal has lately been made to grant public assistance to mechanics' institutions and schools of arts; let it be understood that it is not the working classes and to this there can be no reasonable objection, only who will be benefited. An institution, to be serviceable to the mass of this order of men-we speak more particularly of the masses in Warwickshire, Staffordshire, Lancashire, and Yorkshire-would require to be of that simple and unpretending character to which It will be observed that the plan which we suggest IN the western or fashionable parts of London, there differs from that of mechanics' institutions, schools of are a number of large and particularly splendid build-arts, and similar establishments, only in so far as the ings called Club-Houses. These establishments are individually the property of a body of subscribers or members, each paying a certain sum at entry, and afterwards annually, to liquidate the general expenses of the concern. The members are admitted to the society by ballot; and a committee undertakes the management, the appointment of servants, &c. These club-houses combine the character of a hotel for dayboarding, and a reading-room. Nobody sleeps in the houses at night. Members are alone permitted to resort to any part of the establishment. This species of institution holds out two advantages to its members -an exclusive society, and the means of enjoying all kinds of food, drink, literary recreation, and other comforts, at cost price. The price of every article served is charged according to a low fixed scale, nearly corresponding to its original cost in the market. Thus, the members of club-houses pay no profit on anything they consume, while they enjoy the additional benefit of having all their commodities purchased in large quantities, and at the lowest wholesale price. It remains to be explained, that the members of these institutions belong almost entirely to the higher orders, such as the nobility, landed gentry, members of the House of Commons, and officers of the army and navy. The middle classes, having little time to spare, and being more inclined to spend that little time at home, in the bosom of their families, than in places of public resort, have never fallen into the way of setting up club-houses, and probably never will. Our object in mentioning these fashionable esta blishments, is to suggest the propriety of copying them, to a certain extent and under certain restrictions, in the humbler walks of life. They would not by any means answer in places with a small population; but in all large towns, where there is a considerable aggregation of the working classes, they might be set up with the best prospects of success. At present, as is universally allowed, the houses of vast numbers of workmen are very limited in size, poorly furnished, and any thing but comfortable. In such towns as proposed to give a degree of bodily comfort, indepen- A person in London, who favours us with his name and address, mentions, that in consequence of the account given in the Journal (No 423) of the mode of curing squinting by a surgical operation, he had been induced to submit himself to the hands of a skilful surgeon in the metropolis, who, by an operation on the eye, of only a few minutes' duration, effectually remedied a squint which he had possessed since youth. In little more than ten days, he observes, the slight wound was completely healed, and he now looks perfectly straight, with a greater range of vision than formerly. This is a very gratifying announcement. It appears that squinting now falls within the scope of the surgeon's art, the same as any other superficial defect or injury in the bodily frame; and, therefore, any one who continues to endure the perpetual annoyance of obliquity of vision, has in a great measure himself to blame. We believe that surgeons are to be found in every large town capable of performing the operation. INSTRUCTION OF YOUTH IN PHYSICAL SCIENCE. HIGH SCHOOL OF GLASGOW. On a former occasion we gave a short sketch of some interesting improvements which had been introduced in the High School of Glasgow, with the view of increasing its range of usefulness, and bringing it into conformity with the more extended views of education which now prevail. Previous to 1834, this great school was strictly a classical seminary. Nothing was taught there but Latin and Greek, and writing and bookkeeping. There was one teacher only for the latter branches, on which one, or at most two hours daily were spent; while there were four or five classical teachers, who occupied the pupils' time five or six hours daily. In 1834, the classical department was cut down to two masters, and three (now two) hours daily; and teachers were introduced for the English language and literature-arithmetic, geography, and mathematics—modern languages and drawing. Able teachers of these very important branches being appointed, and the public becoming more alive to the necessity of giving their children full instruction in these newly introduced departments, the change was attended with great success. The school, which was previously declining, revived, and the English and mathematical departments are now absolutely crowded; each teacher requiring the aid of an assistant to get through the duties which his loaded benches impose upon him. The teacher in the English department is Mr A. J. D. D'Orsey, a gentleman whose professional abilities are of the first order, and to whose enterprise and perseverance, in the face of formidable obstacles, much of the reputation of this department in the institution is doubtless to be ascribed. It may be added, that no small praise is also due to Mr Connel, who has, with great success, conducted the mathematical depart ment of the school, as well as to all the other teachers. But though these changes alone were exceedingly important, and conferred no small boon on the citizens and youth of Glasgow, we cannot but consider another department, which has lately sprung up in this school, as equally entitled to consideration on account of its utility, while its novelty gives it a still more particular claim. We refer to the PHILOSOPHICAL DEPARTMENT. This section, from small beginnings, has gradually become a branch of great importance. It commenced with a short course on natural philosophy by the mathematical teacher. A course on chemistry was afterwards introduced. These, given only once or twice a-week, for one hour at a time, could not convey much solid information to the pupil, and gave a degree of trouble to the teacher disproportionate to the remune ration. Accordingly, it was suggested to the Town-Council (the patrons of the school) by Mr Reid, then the teacher of the chemical class, to create a philosophical department, under one teacher, and embracing the three great branches of physical science-natural philosophy, chemistry, and natural history; and to assign a separate class-room for the teaching of these branches. Thus, the master would be enabled, by meeting the pupils frequently, to give a substantial body of instruction in these sciences, taking them through a full and satisfactory course, extending over several years at once conveying efficient information on a number of useful subjects, and forming an admirable system of mental discipline. To this the council agreed; a "philosophical department" was created, and a separate classroom assigned to it. This was the first institution of the kind in Scotland;* and as it holds out an example we would desire to see imitated in every public school, we believe a few observations on the subject will not be inappropriate at the present time. If we inquire what are the objects of education, we shall find that there are few studies that tend more to promote these objects than the physical sciences; and we shall be disposed to congratulate ourselves on living in an age when these sciences have acquired such an extent and systematic form, that they are capable of being thrown into a plain course for the instruction of youth-such a relation to the works of nature and art, that they constitute a course of study at once useful and delightful. We are somewhat too much apt to smile and wonder at our ancestors, and dispute their wisdom in causing their children to spend so much time in studying the dead languages. But what could they do! They were sensible, as well as we are, of the advantages of education and mental training, and keeping the time of the young always occupied. But they had no other knowledge to offer them but Greek and Latin. There was no natural philosophy, no chemistry, no botany, no zoology, no mineralogy, no geology, scarcely astronomy; no travels or geography, little history, excepting that of the Greeks and Romans; and scarcely an English literature. In short, there was no knowledge but that of languages and ancient his * Preceded in Great Britain only by the philosophical class established in the new Liverpool High School tory; and our forefathers made ample provision for having their children instructed in the knowledge that the times afforded. course of discipline in the various sciences; and the sciences are now far enough advanced, and their principles sufficiently settled, to admit of their being applied to this end." But we are better provided. The book of nature has, to a certain extent, been laid open to our view. In conclusion, we have to observe, that the fear someMore knowledge, really useful knowledge, has been times expressed of youth being unfit for the study of accumulated within the last one hundred and fifty years science is totally groundless. From what we have than the whole stock then possessed by mankind. witnessed, we feel perfectly assured that boys of from Numbers of substances previously quite unknown have ten to fourteen years of age are capable-if it be probeen discovered, their properties examined, and applied perly set about and time allowed-of acquiring much to useful purposes. An immense mass of curious and more of the principles as well as facts of the sciences interesting facts have been brought to light. We now than is generally supposed. The sciences are like most have what Locke complains of the want of" a com- other branches of knowledge, such as grammar, comprehensive, scientific, and satisfactory knowledge of the posed chiefly of facts; and we consider that youth are works of nature." Our knowledge is positive, not much more capable of understanding the laws of philospeculative; systematic, though not complete. The sophy than the principles of language and grammar, contrast between the knowledge of Locke's time and while their minds may be at the same time as effectually that of ours, is like that between midnight and noon. trained to pursue a course of exact reasoning as if Let us not, then, shut our eyes to the light. Let us schooled in the abstractions of classical literature. In make use of the ample stores of knowledge which have a correct scientific education, indeed, the degree of been laid up. Let education take advantage of the ex- mental discipline it imposes is not the least of its retension of science, and adapt it to the understandings commendations. of the young. Let us, now that we have the means, cultivate the faculties of youth by imparting knowledge, which, being somewhat congenial to their tastes, will awaken, stimulate, and interest them at once a tool whereby to sharpen their intellects, and a material of value in itself. Independently of religious and moral instruction, there are three great objects to be attained by the education of youth. 1. To communicate information which shall be useful professionally, and in fitting the individual for intercourse with society, and furnishing agreeable and rational resources for leisure hours. 2. To train and exercise the intellectual faculties. 3. To occupy the time. how admirably the physical sciences are adapted for Our limits prevent us entering on any exposition of these ends, except what is hinted in the following sketch, extracted from the prospectus published when the philosophical department was established in the Glasgow High School, which will convey some idea of the ends proposed to be attained :— "To familiarise the pupils with the appearances of the various products of nature and art, apparatus, and philosophical instruments, and teach them how to distinguish them from each other. To teach them the composition of bodies, their properties, the phenomena arising from their mutual action, their uses, and how and where procured. To instruct them in the principles of natural philosophy and chemistry, on which the useful arts depend; a knowledge of which is now found to be essential in SO many different pursuits, while all find it difficult to acquire that knowledge unless the first encounter of the study be made in youth, when there is time for it, when the mind is pliant and flexible, easily takes up new ideas, and is in the habit of learning. By directing attention to the interesting phenomena of nature and art, and the truths of science, to implant early a taste for, and furnish the means of, agreeable, harmless, and rational occupation for leisure hours in after life. Our object in thus bringing a sketch of what has been done to improve the course of instruction in the High School of Glasgow, before the extensive circle of our readers, has simply been to incite other institutions to pursue a similar line of policy. With extremely few exceptions, our provincial grammar-schools are daily falling behind in this age of advancement. LatinLatin-Latin-scarcely any branch of a superior order but Latin, is taught at these seminaries, while the bulk of the boys instructed in them are designed for common mercantile and trading professions. Much of this evil is of course owing to the ignorance of parents; but much more is due to the want of the proper kind of seminaries. Let us hope that what has been above stated in reference to Glasgow, will be the means of remedying this remarkable deficiency. THE OLD IRISH HARPERS. THE harp appears to have been the national musical instrument of Ireland from a period beyond the range of authentic history. It continued, from the days of antiquity down to the end of the eighteenth century, to be practised by a body of men, generally blind, often of good families and respectable acquirements, who travelled about the country, receiving and giving entertainment in the houses of persons of condition. In those days, blindness was a comparatively common calamity in all ranks; the Irish gentry, of whatever extraction, were also more given to keeping up the national usages and amusements of Ireland: hence there were the more harpers and the more entertainment for them. Many of the harpers were composers of airs; and to their genius we must be considered as chiefly indebted for those exquisite melodies, which a refined musician and a refined poet of the present age have caused to be diffused wherever beautiful music is appreciated in the civilised world. To communicate that information regarding the The last survivors of this musical fraternity had a nature of the various bodies and powers which surround meeting at Belfast in 1792, when they played over us on all sides, and are continually acting on us, and their best airs, in the presence of a distinguished audiinfluencing our condition (as air, water, attraction, ence, and received money prizes apportioned to their heat, &c.), which is now necessary to qualify for gene-respective degrees of skill. On this occasion, there ral intercourse in society. To communicate that information, that sense of the importance of the applications of science, which will enable those who will be our future magistrates and councillors, directors of public trusts, merchants and manufacturers, to appreciate and assist in forwarding those improvements which the advance of science is daily suggesting. The striking nature of the phenomena of the physical sciences the hidden properties which they disclose their applications in explaining the great phenomena of nature and the interesting processes of art, admirably adapt them to excite the interest of the young, and give them a pleasure in learning to call their mental powers into action-stimulate and give a right turn to that disposition to observe and inquire which is so characteristic of boys-train them to habits of observing accurately-prevent that too great confidence in their preconceived notions, which they are apt to entertain, and lead them to penetrate beneath the surface of things, and reflect upon the causes of what comes before them. The varied properties and relations of bodies, the different modes of action which nature employs, and the peculiar principles, methods of inquiry, and modes of reasoning in each science, form an admirable basis for mental exercise. Such studies correct and invigorate the judgment by the analysis which they present of reasoning in all its varieties, and increase the mental resources by enriching the memory with stores from every quarter. A course of logic, the concluding and most valuable part of a general education, cannot be regarded as complete, unless it embrace an analysis of science rest. These differ, both in degree and kind, of the several kinds of evidence on which the truths from moral evidence and from each other. For sharpis no exercise like the analysis of evidence; and the ening and invigorating the intellectual powers, there more varied the subjects of exercise the better. It is now allowed that men would be much better qualified for the business of life and the exercise of the liberal professions, were they carried through a preliminary was present a young man named Edward Bunting, who felt, in a peculiar manner, the charms of the music, and the interest of the whole scene. He has given us the following account of the personal appearance of the men. "They were in general clad in a comfortable homely manner, in drab-coloured or grey cloth, of coarse manufacture. A few of them made an attempt at splendour, by wearing silver buttons on their coats, particularly O'Higgins and O'Neill; the former had his buttons decorated with his initials only, but O'Neill had his initials, surmounted by the crest of the O'Neills, engraved on buttons the size of half-a-crown. Some had horses and guides when travelling through the country; others their attendants only, who carried their harps. They seemed perfectly happy and contented with their lot, and all appeared convinced of the excellence of the genuine old Irish music, which they said had existed for centuries, and, from its delightful melody, would continue to exist for centuries to come. The editor [Mr Bunt-ing] well remembers the anguish with which O'Neill. contemplated the extinction of the old strains, which he said had been the delight of the Irish nation for so many years; he called them, with tears coursing down his aged cheeks, The dear, dear, sweet old Irish tunes!" Mr Bunting immediately set about collecting the harp music of Ireland. He travelled into the counties of Derry and Tyrone, and into the province of Connaught, taking down the airs from the country people, and from the surviving harpers. He was a hundred years of age, whom he found bedrid, but largely indebted to Denis Hempson, a harper above who still had his harp beside him, keeping it literally Mr Bunting learned the ancient mode of fingering the in his arms, under the bed-clothes. From him, also, harp, which was not done with the fleshy part at the end of the finger, as in the Italian harp, but by the space between the flesh and nail, the nail being for this purpose kept long and crooked." It was with difficulty that this aged man could be induced to play the more ancient music. He regarded it with a superstitious veneration, and shrunk from presenting it to modern, and perhaps unsympathising, ears. When asked to play these airs, he uniformly replied, "There was no use in doing so; they were too hard to learn; they revived painful recollections." the * His stac "Lochaber," which is here stated to have been the who have been named were of a very high character. composition of a harper named Miles O'Reilly, of Mungan excelled in piano passages, which he would Killincarra in the county of Cavan. The latter days give so soft and low, that to hear them it was necesof Connallon brought him an honour, the last we sary to bring the ear close to his instrument. "In should have expected to accrue to a "great harper:" their greatest degree of softness, they resembled rather he became a bailie in the city of Edinburgh, where he the sympathetic tones than those brought out by the died. At a somewhat later time, flourished one Mur- instrument. Those janglings of the strings, so general The consequence of Mr Bunting's exertions was the phy, a first-rate performer, who travelled into France, among ordinary practitioners, were never heard from publication of sixty-six airs in 1796, and the addition and was admitted to play before the Grand Monarch. the harp in his hands." He was conversant with the of seventy-five in a second volume given to the world We have now come to the age of Carolan; but, having best music of his day, that of Corelli, Handel, and in 1809. These two volumes furnished the materials already given a life of this child of genius in our Jour- Geminiani, select adagios from which he often played. of the "Irish Melodies," as harmonised by Sir John nal, we shall here pass him over with the single re- Similar excellence marked the playing of Denis Stevenson, and married to brilliant verse by Mr Moore. mark, that a portrait of him, in Hardiman's Irish Hempson, the man to whom Mr Bunting was indebted "His fingers In the present year, nearly half a century after his Minstrelsy, represents one of the most beautiful artis- for many of the airs in his collections. attention was first attracted to the subject, Mr Bunt- tic heads we have ever beheld, while the countenance, lay over the strings in such a manner that, when he ing has given us a third volume, containing a hundred sightless as it is, beams with the rapt expression of struck them with one finger, the other was instantly and fifty-one airs, of which one hundred and twenty high genius. One of the most eminent of his contem- ready to stop the vibration, so that the staccato paswere never before published. These are arranged for poraries was Cornelius Lyons, harper to the Earl of sages were heard in full perfection. * the piano, and accompanied by a practical digest of Antrim, and composer of certain graceful variations cato and legato passages, double slurs, shakes, turns, ancient Irish musical science, and by much historical to Aileen-a-Roon, Coolin, and other tunes, which Mr graces, &c., comprised as great a range of execution as and traditionary matter respecting both harping and Bunting preserves. Lyons was a person of good man-has ever been devised by the most modern improvers." harpers. Mr Bunting has thus performed a most ners and attainments, insomuch that Lord Antrim The shake, which is so difficult on every species of eminent service to the world, for which the thanks of himself delighted in his conversation. Our editor harp, was performed by Arthur O'Neill with the all persons of taste and feeling are due: he has been quotes, from a manuscript memoir by Arthur O'Neill, greatest ease, and with such success, as Mr Seybold, of the old Irish music. "While form- an anecdote which serves to show how peculiar the a celebrated performer on the pedal harp, declared preserver ing," he says, "these collections, he had an opportunity, style of playing of some of these old harpers must have he should in vain endeavour to rival. never perhaps enjoyed by any other musical compiler, been. His lordship was both a wit and a poet, and of rendering himself thoroughly acquainted with the delighted in equality where vulgarity was not too gross. genius and habits of the old native people of the coun- At one time, he and Lyons, in London, went to the try. His plan would have been imperfect, had he not house of a famous Irish harper, named Heffernan, who resorted to the artless modulations of the aged heads kept a tavern there; but, beforehand, they formed the of families, and of females taught by their parents to following plan: I will call you Cousin Burke,' said sing to children on the breast, or at the milking of the his lordship; 'you may either call me Cousin Randall cow-an occupation in which the native Irish took par- or my lord, as you please. After regaling for some ticular delight. In these excursions, particularly in the time, Heffernan was called up, who was, by this time, remote parts of Tyrone and Derry in Ulster, and of well aware of the dignity of his guests from the conSligo and Mayo in Connaught, he has had the satis-versation and livery of his lordship's servants. When faction of procuring old music, and experiencing Heffernan came into the room, he was desired to bring ancient hospitality, at the same time, among people of his harp and sit down, which he did, and played a good manners so primitive and sincere, as could leave no doubt many tunes in a grand style. His lordship then called on any mind of the perfect genuineness of every thing upon his Cousin Burke to play a tune. The supposed about them. Had he gained nothing else on these oc- cousin, after many apologies, at length took up the casions but a knowledge of the worth and warm-hearted- harp and played some of his best airs. Heffernan, ness of his poor countrymen-a knowledge so little after listening a little while, started up and exclaimed, sought after by those who might turn it to the best My lord, you may call him Cousin Burke, or what you account he would have been well repaid for all his please, but, dar dich, he plays upon Lyons' fingers.' toil." What is very extraordinary, Heffernan had never seen Lyons before. His lordship then retired, leaving the minstrels to indulge in Bacchanalian rivalry, which O'Neill assures us they did like bards of old?" Jerome Duigenan, a Leitrim harper, who lived with a Colonel Jones of Drumshambo, was born about the year 1710. O'Neill related an anecdote of him, which it is not easy to believe, yet looks after all characteristic. "The colonel, being in Dublin at the meeting of the parliament (in which he sat for Leitrim county), met with an English nobleman, who had brought over a Welsh harper. When the Welshman had played some tunes before the colonel, which he did very well, the nobleman asked him had he ever heard so sweet a finger. Yes, replied Jones, and that by a man who never wears either linen or woollen.' I'll bet you a duce any one to excel my Welshman." The bet was accordingly made, and Duigenan was written to, to come immediately to Dublin, and bring his harp and dress of Cauthack with him; that is, a dress made of beaten rushes, with something like a caddy or plaid of the same stuff. On Duigenan's arrival in Dublin, the colonel acquainted the members with the nature of his bet, and they requested that it might be decided in the House of Commons, before business commenced. The two harpers performed before all the members accordingly; and it was unanimously decided in favour of Duigenan, who wore his full Cauthack dress, and a cap of the same stuff, shaped like a sugar-loaf, with many tassels; he was a tall handsome man, and looked very well in it." Hempson died in 1807, at the extraordinary age of 112, having been born in 1695. From a portrait of him in Mr Bunting's second volume, he seems to have been a tall meagre-faced man, with long grey hair, the very beau-ideal of the ancient minstrel. Having become blind at three years of age, he began at twelve to learn the harp under Bridget O'Cahan, for in those days women as well as men taught the instrument. The harp which two friendly gentlemen then bought for him, he retained to the close of his long life, calling it endearingly the Queen of Music. Hempson chiefly played the old music of Ireland; but, in later days, when he knew it to be little regarded, he shrunk, as already stated, from exposing it to common ears. In his younger days he had travelled through both Ireland and Scotland, and he used to relate anecdotes of his adventures. There was a certain Sir J. Campbell of Auchinbreck, who, having spent too freely, was at length reduced to live on a small weekly allowance. Hempson, hearing of this, and not liking to trouble a gentleman under such circumstances, passed his house without calling. The spirit of the old Highland gentleman rose at the indignity; a servant was dispatched to go after the harper, and bring him back. Sir James asked Hempson why he had not called, adding, "Sir, there never was a harper but yourself that passed the door of my father's house." To which Hempson answered, "that he had heard in the neighbourhood his honour was not often at home" with which delicate evasion the baronet was satisfied. Hempson stated, "that this was the stateliest and highest-bred man he ever knew; if he were putting on a pair of new gloves, and one of them dropped on the floor (though ever so clean), he would order the servant to bring another pair." Being in Edinburgh in 1745, Hempson was introRoscommon and Sir Thomas Sheridan. He was called into the great hall to play; at first, he was alone; afterwards four fiddlers joined. The tune called for was "The king shall enjoy his own again." In relating the anecdote, he used to aing a part of the words: Mr Bunting's notices of the Irish harpers go back to the end of the sixteenth century, when there flourished two brothers, John and Harry Scott, eminent performers and composers from the county of Westmeath; Gerald O'Daly, the supposed author of Aileen-a-Roon (Robin Adair); and Roderick O'Cahan (pronounced O'Keene), otherwise called Rory Dall, that is, Blind Roderick, who was a chief person among the O'Cahans of the O'Cahan country, and entitled to large estates there. Tradition represents Rory Dall as travelling into Scotland, not long before the accession of James VI. to the English throne. He was attended by a retinue befitting gentleman of figure. He is said to have called at Eglintoune Castle, where the lady, not apprehending his real character, affronted him by asking a tune in a peremp-hundred guineas,' says the nobleman, you can't produced at the court of Holyrood, by Colonel Kelly of tory manner. "O'Cahan refused and left the castle. Her ladyship afterwards, understanding who he was, sought a reconciliation, which was readily effected. This incident gave occasion to the composition, by O'Cahan, of the appropriate tune of Da mihi manum,' or 'Give me your hand,' the fame of which afterwards spread through Scotland, and, reaching the ear of the king, induced him to send for the composer, O'Cahan accordingly attended at the Scottish court, and so delighted the royal circle with his performance, that James walked towards him, and laid his hand familiarly on his shoulder. One of the courtiers present remarking on the honour thus conferred on him, Rory observed, A greater than King James has laid his hand on my shoulder. Who was that, man?" cried the king. O'Neill, sire,' replied Rory, standing up." This was O'Neill, Earl of Tyrone, the leading Irish chief of his day, and who about this time, in a rebellion against Elizabeth, had brought nearly the whole country to his feet. Rory spent much of his time in Scotland, travelling about amongst the nobility and gentry. He composed Ports or harp lessons in honour of his entertainers, and bearing their names for example, Port Lennox, Port Gordon, and Port Athole. One of his best known pieces is called Lade's Supper, having been composed on a visit to the house of Robertson of Lude. He died in Skye, while on a visit at the house of Macdonald of Sleat, in which family his silver harp-key, adorned with precious stones, and worth seventy or eighty pounds in intrinsic value, was retained till 1773, when Lord Macdonald presented it to another harping visiter. The writer of this notice has heard the late Mr Alexander Campbell, editor of Albyn's Anthology, describe, with his characteristic enthusiasm, a pilgrimage he once made to the grave of Rory Dall, somewhere in the West Highlands. The reign of Charles II. introduces us to Thomas Connallon, a native of the county of Sligo, some of whose airs, marked by great beauty, are preserved in Mr Bunting's new volume. He also travelled into Scotland, carrying with him, it is said, the air of The Ancient Music of Ireland, arranged for the Piano-Forte, To which is prefixed a Dissertation on the Irish Harp and Harpers; including an account of the old Melodies of Ireland. By Edward Bunting. Dublin: Hodges and Smith. 1840, 4to, "I hope to see the day, nefatura 20 When the Whigs shall run away, And the king shall enjoy his own again.” A clergyman named Sampson visited Hempson in 1805, when he was one hundred and ten years old, at his cabin, where he lived with a cooper who had mar ried his daughter. "I found him lying on his back in bed, near the fire; his family employed in the usual way; his harp under the bed-clothes, which also Dominic Mungan, a native of Tyrone, and blind covered his face. When he heard my name, he started from his birth, regularly accompanied the bar on the up (being already dressed), and seemed rejoiced to north-west circuit. He was a prudent man, and giv-hear the sound of my voice, which, he said, he began ing his sons a good education, one of them became an to recollect. He asked for my children, whom I had eminent physician, and the other Bishop of Limerick brought to see him, and he felt them over and over; in the established church. Echlin Kane, born at Drog- then, with tones of great affection, he blessed God that heda, was an opposite character. His love of adven- he had seen four generations of the name, and ended ture early led him to Rome, where he played before the by giving the children his blessing. He then tuned Pretender, then resident there. He afterwards tra- his old time-beaten harp, his solace and bedfellow, and velled into France and Spain, where the Irish, of whom played with astonishing justness and good taste. The there was at that time a great number residing in tunes he played were his favourites; and he, with an Madrid, patronised him very liberally, and introduced elegance of naanner, said, at the same time, I rememhim to the notice of his Catholic Majesty, who is said ber you have a fondness for music, and the tunes you to have contemplated settling a pension on him, in used to ask for I have not forgotten,' which were compliment to his countrymen. Kane's preferment, Coolin, The dawing of the day, Aileen-a-Roon, &e." however, was marred by his own indiscretions; and The only trace of mental debility which this gentleafter exhausting the patronage of his countrymen at man found in the old harper, was a notion that he was the Spanish court, he was obliged to set out for Bilboa, the supporter of the family, and that his son-in-law, on his way home, on foot, and carrying his harp on the cooper, was a spendthrift; both circumstances being his back. He is described as a very strong, tall, the reverse of the fact, "As to his body, he has no athletic man, and is asserted to have outstripped the inconvenience but that arising from a chronic disorder. post on his journey, which may appear the less extra- His habits have ever been sober; his favourite drink, ordinary when the state of the roads in Spain at the once beer, now milk and water; his diet chiefly potatime is considered." He was afterwards a great part toes." His last days were "made comfortable by the of his time in Scotland, where Lord Macdonald pre- Rev. Sir Henry Harvey Bruce, from whose hand he sented him with the harp-key of Rory Dall; an un- was often literally fed. The day before his death, lucky proceeding, for the profligate soon after con- upon hearing that this gentleman had come to his verted it into money, to supply his extravagances, cabin, he desired to be raised up in his bed, and the Kane died about 1790. harp placed in his hands. Having struck some notes of a favourite strain, he sunk back, unable to proceed, taking his last adieu of an instrument which had been a companion, even in his sleeping hours, and was his Let not the reader suppose that these were men of little musical accomplishment, whom no modern ears could patiently listen to. The performances of all い |