cerns the political well-being of the empire. It would be idle to contend that they might not contribute to that, quite as much as they have contributed to the advancement of learning, and the cultivation of philosophy. But I have ano

ther objection, which, I trust, you will judge to be an honest one, and which is not, I think, so easily answered. Is there not a certain degree of sympathy excited, and protection procured for the clergy, as being, so far, defenceless, as long as they are excluded from the House of Commons, which would cease as soon as they might be present to defend themselves? And would not one intemperate and injudicious advocate, if a churchman, do them more mischief than any ten judicious ones could do them good? That consideration it was which reconciled me to the practical extinction of the convocation. These are not times in which the pretensions of high churchmen, as they are called, would be endured; and if the clergy were brought together in a political character, there is too much reason to fear, that such pretensions would be absurdly and offensively put forward. Now, if this should be the case, I think you will allow that the experiment which you suggest could not be made, without exposing them to serious injury;-and it is for you to judge, whether, upon the whole, more might not be lost by the destruction of the church, than could be gained by engaging churchmen in the service of their country in parliament.

POPLAR-Your objection is well put; and is, in point of fact, the strongest that could be alleged against my proposal. I have often revolved it in my mind with all the attention that its importance deserves; and the result has been, not that it possesses no weight, but that it is not sufficient to justify the positive exclusion of the clergy from the House of Commons. In the first place, their helplessness no longer ensures them protection. The age of chivalry has gone by; and, not that merely, but common honesty seems scarcely to be respected. What Burke thought impossible, is now about to come to pass; parliament are about to assert, not an authority for regulation and controul, but for use and dominion over the fixed estates of the clergy. Their property is thus openly, daringly, and powerfully assailed, while it is feebly, timidly, and inefficiently defended: and all this, BECAUSE they are not adequately and professionally represented. No, I can never believe that the absence of those by whom the sophists might be exposed, and the spoliators rebuked, can benefit the church in these times or that the tender mercies of Hume and O'Connell are more than an equivalent for that competent and principled advocacy, by which the stupid malignity of the one might be chastised, and the reckless violence of the other resisted.

NEVEROUT-Recollect that I do not object to competent and well principled advocacy; such I consider most desirable; but only to such advocacy as might do harm rather than good; and such, I fear, might be the advocacy of some churchmen.

POPLAR-But I do not think the probability is in favour of the selection of persons of that description. Besides, the question is not, now, as between high churchmen and low churchmen. It may be truly said, " de toto corpore Ecclesiæ certatur!" It is not whether the church of England is to enjoy or to relinquish this or that privilege; but, simply, whether it is to stand or fall. And, in such a case, is it or is it not to have competent defenders? Believe me, it is a case which requires what Lord Bacon calls a whole man. A lawyer, or a soldier, men whose time and thoughts are very fully engrossed by other concerns, can never undertake its cause either with the spirit, the energy, the knowledge, or the perseverance, which might be expected from those who are trained and educated for its service: and, nothing short of all the devotion, and all the ability, which may thus be brought to its aid, can save it from the fierce hostility of ruthless, unscrupulous, and implacable enemies. A feeble defence, in such a case, is worse than no defence at all. It is that, and not intemperate advocacy, by which the church is, at present endangered. Shall we, therefore, proscribe the only class of men from amongst whom advocates might be selected, upon whose knowledge and ability a reliance might be placed, simply because that class contains those also whose zeal may possibly exceed their discretion? That would be, to abandon a cause to certain destruction, from the fear of an error of judgment in the choice of those by whom it might be maintained. It would

be something like the cowardice of the soldier, who shot himself before a battle, for fear of being killed. But, I do not fear the error of which you are apprehensive. If the clergy were eligible to seats in the House of Commons, I have no doubt that men of moderation and wisdom would find their way into that assembly, who would be, upon all vital constitutional questions, woλλwv avtağını λλ, and make up, in worth and weight, what they wanted in numbers. The church is, truly, in hard case. Intemperance could not make its condition worse; and, one intrepid and well appointed champion might yet give it a chance of victory.

NEVEROUT-But, you forget that the Bishops have seats in the House of

Lords.

POPLAR-And what is the House of Lords at present? It has passed under the yoke; and although I am far from condemning the prudence which preferred disgrace to destruction, yet, for all Conservative purposes, that assembly has become almost as complete a non-entity as the two houses of Convocation. No. It is in the Commons the battle must be fought; and there, if anywhere, a stand must be made in defence of the establishment. I wish not to undervalue the assistance which the Bishops may give, if seconded in the lower house, by men of their own order. But, without such support, in that assembly, which is now predominant in the legislature, they will be either intimidated into a compliance with the measures of the spoliators, or provoked into a feeble and ineffective resistance, which will only precipitate their doom, by exposing their weakness and decrepitude.

NEVEROUT-But, softly, good Sir.

Would not the Roman Catholic Priests

get into parliament if your proposal was adopted? POPLAR-I very much fear they would not.

NEVEROUT-What? Fear! Do you not dread such a result?

POPLAR-By no means. They could, by possibility, be no where, where they could do less harm. A popish priest, in a British House of Commons, preaching sedition! Why it might produce a salutary effect even upon Joseph Hume, and make him ashamed of his vocation. No, no. If you want to blind an owl, be sure to bring him into day-light. But are you not aware that dissenting ministers are, at present, eligible?

NEVEROUT-No. I am not.

POPLAR-They are, however. All who pass under the denomination of any description of dissenters, not being in communion with the church of Scotland, and whose orders are not recognised by the united churches of England and Ireland, may, as things stand at present, be returned to serve in the imperial parliament? Is it, then, unreasonable to expect that our clergy should possess a similar indulgence?

NEVEROUT-NO, certainly; especially as the Convocation has been so long practically extinct. I was not at all aware that the dissenting clergy could be elected. Have you any thing else to propose, by which the progress of revolution might be arrested?

POPLAR-Much: but I have not time, just now, to detail it. Something must be done respecting the press: I will not say to shackle, but to purify. At some future time I will explain myself more at large.

NEVEROUT-But, if you should fail to convince the government of the expediency, nay the necessity of the measure which you have proposed-if the Conservative party should still continue supine, or waste their energies in defending a false position; if they should be divided amongst themselves, and waste those powers in contending against each other, which ought to be united against the common enemy; in that case

POPLAR-In that case, I will have done my duty. Revolution must take its course. It will be some consolation not to have aided or abetted the pernicious and profligate mispolicy which was big with the ruin of England. And I can only say, that, when all my efforts to serve the country shall have failed, Ulysses did not more eagerly avail himself of an opportunity to escape from the hospitalities of Polyphemus, than I shall to get beyond the reach of "the tender mercies" of a reformed parliament.

1833.]

Poetry.

LINES,

WRITTEN ON THE LAST DAY OF DECEMBER.

A few short hours will quickly close
The old and hoary year;

It's head is charg'd with winter snows,
Dissolv'd in many a tear.

Even this its last expiring day,
Must soon for ever flee;
The cheerful sun's returning ray,
It never more must see;

Yet brightly now his parting beams
Sad winter's gloom dispel ;
And of the dying year he seems
To take a kind farewell.

Those beams in happier seasons felt,

Recal the summer fled,

And cause the chilling snows to melt,
In tears to memory shed.

By such sweet kindness mov'd, the frost
dissolves away;

Of age

The ancient year in rapture lost,

Smiles out its last short day.

Such was to Contemplation's eyes,
The tale that Nature told;

What heart shall not its moral prize
And its effect unfold!

THE WANDERER.

I.

There is no lip to greet thee,
Thou home-bound wanderer;
There is no smile to meet thee,
No-not a smile from her
On whom thy boyhood doated,
Ere the feeling found a name,
To whose loveliness devoted,
Manhood sought the field of fame.

II.

On thy shield thou wearest glory,
On thy casque the laurel-wreath,
Thine is the hero's story,

That survives the wreck of death;
But the bosom thou hast panted
To renew thy kisses on,
By a golden spell enchanted,
Play'd thee false and-she is gone.

III.

Once again the sword unsheathing,
On the plain where triumph smil'd,
While the trumpet-note is breathing,
Thou'lt forget thou wert beguil❜d.
Back, where the clarions call thee,
And the banners proudly wave,
Where the worst that can befall thee,
Is to find a warrior's grave.

S. T. Q.

15

SONG.

"Rest thee here!"

Whene'er the dreams that now illume
Each moment, change their hue-
When Fancy chill'd, hath lost in gloom
Her borrow'd lustre, too;
Whene'er the cup thou'rt quaffing now
So deep, forgets to cheer,
Nor hectic passion lights thy brow,
Come, lov'd one, rest thee here!

I know the magic notes that swell
From Pleasure's syren song,

I know the wildering charms that dwell
Thy fairy paths along ;

Yet should'st thou ever cease to deem
These thornless haunts so dear,

Or fly from out the withering beam
They bask in-rest thee here!

When life's no more a bower entwin'd
By Circe's wanton skill;

When wasted smiles, and mirth declin'd,
Yield to a sadder thrill;

When Love's and Friendship's faded wreaths
Proclaim their closing year,

And the fragrancy their spring-day breathes
Is vanish'd, rest thee here!

Come rest thee here, when hopes decay,
And leave thy heart a waste;
When pride and power, as false as they,
No more are sweet to taste;

If sick of joy that never knew
The dewing of a tear,

Thou seek'st a calmer peace that grew
In sorrow, rest thee here!

Go revel in each soft desire,

Nor leave one sweet untried,
Till pall'd delight's extinguish'd fire
Leaves not life's darker side.
And then, if aching memory, fain
Would shun a world so drear,

And fly to scenes, which falsehood's stain

Ne'er sullied, rest thee here!

T. T.

BARNY O'REIRDON THE NAVIGATOR-OUTWARD-BOUND.

By SAMUEL LOVER, Esq. R. H.A. Author of "Legends and Stories of Ireland."

"Well, he went farther and farther than I can tell "-Nursery Tale.

Seated one night at a public house, the common resort of Barny and other marine curiosities, our hero got entangled in debate with what he called a strange sail-that is to say, a man he had never met before, and whom he was inclined to treat rather magisterially upon nautical subjects, at the same time that the stranger was equally inclined to assume the high hand over him, till at last the newcomer made a regular out-break by exclaiming. "Ah tare-an-ouns, lave aff your balderdash, Mr. O'Reirdon, by the powdhers o' war its enough, so it is, to make a dog bate his father, to hear you goin' an as if you war Curlumberus or Sir Crustyphiz Wran, whin ivery one knows the divil a farther you ivir wor, nor ketchin' crabs or drudgin' oysters."

A VERY striking characteristic of an oyster-dredgers and cockle-women must Irishman is his unwillingness to be out- be. Such was Barny O'Reirdon. done. Some have asserted that this arises from vanity, but I have ever been unwilling to attribute an unamiable motive to my countrymen where a better may be found, and one equally tending to produce a similar result, and I consider a deep-seated spirit of emulation to originate this peculiarity. Phrenologists might resolve it by supposing the organ of the love of approbation to predominate in our Irish craniums, and it may be so; but as I am not in the least a metaphysician and very little of a phrenologist, I leave those who choose, to settle the point in question, quite content with the knowledge of the fact with which I started, viz:-the unwillingness of an Irishman to be outdone. This spirit, it is likely, may sometimes lead men into ridiculous positions; but it is equally probable, that the desire of surpassing one another has given birth to many of the noblest actions and some of the most valuable inventions; let us, therefore, not fall out with it.

Now, having vindicated the motive of my countrymen, I will prove the total absence of national prejudice in so doing, by giving an illustration of the ridiculous consequences attendant upon this Hibernian peculiarity.

Barny O'Reirdon was a fisherman of Kinsale, and a heartier fellow never hauled a net nor cast a line into deep water: indeed Barny, independently of being a merry boy among his companions, a lover of good fun and good whiskey, was looked up to, rather, by his brother-fishermen, as an intelligent fellow, and few boats brought more fish to market than Barny O'Reirdon's; his opinion on certain points in the craft was considered law, and in short, in his own little community, Barny was what is commonly called a leading man. Now, your leading man is always jealous in an inverse ratio to the sphere of his influence, and the leader of a nation is less incensed at a rival's triumph, than the great man of a village. If we pursue this descending scale, what a desperately jealous person the oracle of VOL. I.

"Who towld you that, my Watherford Wondher?" rejoined Barny, "what the dickins do you know about sayfarin' farther nor fishin' for sprats in a bowl wid your grandmother?"

"Oh, baithershin," says the stranger.

66

And who made you so bowld with my name?" demanded O'Reirdon.

"No matther for that," said the stranger, "but if you'd like for to know, shure its your cousin Molly Mullins knows me well, and maybe I don't know you and your's as well as the mother that bore you, aye, in throth; and shure I know the very thoughts o' you as well as if I was inside o' you, Barny O'Reirdon."

By my sowl thin you know betther thoughts than your own, Mr. Whippersnapper, if that's the name you go by."

"No its not the name I go by; I've as good a name as your own, Mr. O'Reirdon, for want of a betther, and that's O'Sullivan."

"Throth there's more than there's good o' them," said Barny.

"Good or bad, I'm a cousin o' your own twice removed by the mother's side." "And is it the Widda O'Sullivan's boy you'd be that's left this come Candlemas four years?"

"The same."

"Throth thin you might know bet

D