WHAT CAN WE DO FOR IRELAND.

Oh ye! who, sunk in beds of down,

Feel not a want but what yourselves create, Think, for a moment, on his wretched fate, Whom friends and fortune quite disown!

BURNS' WINTER NIGHT.

IRELAND, poetically described, as "the emerald gem of the western world," has long been the abode of supreme wretchedness and misery. Yet, from the balmy softness of her atmosphere, the richness of her soil, the purity and number of her mountain streams, and the facilities of her numerous bays and harbours, Ireland, of all countries in the world, seems by heaven, to have been destined to happiness and civilization. Instead of a people delighting in the enjoyment of these blessings, year after year only adds another mark in the register of their misfortunes, another figure to the long addition of their sorrows and of their miseries. During the mighty changes that have taken place in the course of the last seventy years, in which the most remote nations of Europe have been making rapid and valuable improvements Ireland, like some excommunicated spot, remains isolated, amid the tide of civilization that surrounds it, and becomes more miserable and more helpless, as her dark history advances.

We call the attention of our readers more peculiarly to this subject now, because that admirable and statesman-like measure of the Duke of Wellington, the Catholic Relief Bill, gives the cause of Ireland less power in its appeals.

Whilst she suffered, under the restrictions which the Relief Bill removed, Ireland had a claim upon us, because she was persecuted: now she can only hope for sympathy because she is wretched. Unfortunately too, her warm-hearted sons have of late become the dupes of political quacks, who, perceiving that the Relief Bill deprived them of the only topic on which they could reasonably expatiate on her wrongs, have not failed by chimeras, as foolish as they are impracticable, to keep her continually agitated: so that her best friends feel that legislation, in her present state, would in some measure be useless, and therefore they believe it wiser to allow the violent stage of the fever to subside, rather than, in her present state, to attempt to direct the patient.

Those who have only visited some of the principal towns and cities of Ireland, who have rapidly admired the regularity of her streets, and the magnificence of her public buildings, and who have participated in the splendid hospitalities of her merchants, can have little to tell of the real condition of her population. Although the poor of her towns may be numerous and wretched, they are not the persons who demand our attention. It is her peasantry with whom we have to do, whose numbers are so great, as not only to overrun their native soil, but in multitudes to invade the western harbours and coasts of both England and Scotland.

In the west of Scotland, for a long time past, colonies of expatriated Irishmen have been established. A correspondence upon this subject appeared in a Glasgow newspaper.* An acute traveller, in a letter to the ediGlasgow Chronicle.

tor, remarked that, whatever might be the misery of an Irish cabin, it was far surpassed by the miserable huts, raised on the side of the road in the neighbourhood of Port-Patrick and Stranraer.

Another correspondent, who had visited the place, replied that these very huts were erected and inhabited by Irishmen; and thus, what was supposed to be a specimen of Scottish wretchedness was only a proof of Irish contentment.

The notions of the Scottish and Irish peasants, in regard to domestic comfort, are as different as possible.

Take a Scottish peasant of the lowest rank, and you shall find him not only possessed of his little comforts, but aspiring at luxuries. Whilst the Irish peasant is content with a house, and a dress, equally insufficient to protect him from the inclemency of the weatherthe Scotsman has a house substantially built, tolerably well furnished, and its chest contains his suit of Sunday clothes, without which he neither could expect the favour of his friends nor the smiles of the fair. He never thinks of marriage, till all that we have mentioned has been acquired. Habits of foresight are thus formed, as soon as he enters active life, and generally secure to him a respected manhood, and a comfortable old age. Behold the contrast. The luxuries of an Irish "mud tenement" are thus graphically described by an eye witness :*

"I was met by the father at the door, bending double to get out, he had a beard that would not have disgraced an ancient Israelite. He was without shoes or stockings, and with a coat which appeared as if the. first blast of wind would tear it to tatters. As I was about to enter, I found permission from another quarter was necessary-a pig which was fastened to a stake driven into the floor, with length of rope sufficient to permit him the enjoyment of sun and air, demanded some courtesy. A child was sleeping on a board by the fire, two or three children crowded around the mother in ragged garments; whilst the dress of the poor woman was scarcely sufficient to satisfy decency. The furniture consisted of an iron pot, a sack stuffed with straw, and a single blanket, which at night served for a covering to the whole family."

Henry Lord Claredon, who was Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, about the year 1680-6, expressly states, that the "scarcity of the people is the greatest want of this country." Swift, at the commencement of last century, says "as this is the only christian country where the people are the poverty, and not the riches of the nation, so the blessing-increase and multiplyis by us converted into a curse." And the ratio in which population has since that time proceeded almost justifies the observation.

This enormous increase is to be attributed to the depth of wretchedness in which the Irish peasantry have been accustomed to live. There are no manufactures to stimulate, few resident proprietors to introduce improvements, and a too general want of education to enlighten them; thus they become callous to every thing beyond their miserable dwelling, and drag out an existence on a root which almost grows spontaneously around their cabins.

By the question, "can we do any thing for Ireland ?"

• Mr. Curwen.

we are naturally led to consider the most obvious means for her relief, and the subject of tithes claims our first notice.

We have, of course, all due veneration for the Church of England, but it does not extend so far as to induce us to believe her, at all times, either immaculate or unreasonable. Perhaps her sway in Ireland, where the Presbyterian Dissenters and Roman Catholics make her number appear as nothing, might be more conveniently curtailed than any where else. But this is not the question. We desire to secure for her all that she possesses now, provided she will give up all other claims for the future. Ascertain, then, exactly, the lands that paid tithe in 1831, and say these, and these lands only, shall, in future, be liable to such payments: whatever uncultivated lands did not last year pay tithes shall be exempted from them for ever.

By the adoption of such a measure, all the right of tithes belonging to the church in 1831, will be secured to her, whilst a premium of ten per cent. will be instantaneously held out for the improvement of waste lands, and for the enclosure and amelioration of extensive and uncultivated districts of Ireland. It is admitted by the defenders of tithes, that their effect is "to check the enclosure of waste land,*"" and to prevent estates being so beneficial to the proprietors as they would otherwise bet"-both disadvantages are worth overcoming, and this we have proposed to do without detriment to the church.

Since the advocates for tithes admit what we have quoted, when tithes exist, the important converse takes place when they do not exist. Hence, waste lands, exempted from tithes, would be enclosed, and landlords would be benefitted. But waste lands cannot be cultivated without capital, and that capital must be employed in labour, and thus a source of paid labour would immediately be participated in by the Irish peasant.

Where the industrious peasantry prevails, we have generally a moral population. Where there is a moral population, property is always secure. Ireland naturally possesses the most tempting resources for the manufacturer and merchant; for the former, the cheapness of labour, and the numerous rivers adapted for driving machinery; and, for the latter, her west coast possesses unparalleled facilities for foreign trade. But property, nay, even life is insecure, consequently capital cannot be embarked for her benefit. Otherwise, a country exempted from all direct taxes, possessing a superabundant population, free from tithes in some of her districts, as we propose, and having so many natural advantages, would, ere long, be no despicable rival to the industrious inhabitants of England and Scotland.

How foolish and injurious, then, the attempts of men who, under the false guise of friendship for Ireland, continue to keep her in a state of constant hostility and opposition to England!

A union, to be really useful, must be one of sentiment as well as legislation. Instead of Ireland, which contains within itself so many anomalies, a country embracing the greatest poverty on earth, and yet from whose hills the largest mass of gold ever found in Europe was produced-which, at the time her population was starving, exported corn to a prodigious amount-which, from its natural advantages, invites the capitalist, and yet deters him by her folly,-instead of her fine population being cheered on to acts of frenzy and intemperance, her real friends should seek to soothe her by every means in their power, and endeavour to woo her back to days as peaceful as those when

Her son's lov'd woman, and golden store,
But still lov'd honour and virtue more.

• Defence of the Church of England, by the Rev. F. Thackary. Dr. Belward's Defence.

BALLOONS-A FRAGMENT (Translated from the German.)

"LET GO, my lads," cried the aeronaut. "All gone, Sir," answered his assistants; and, free from all its bonds, the air-ball soared majectically aloft-its gaudy colours and variegated hues glancing gaily in the summer's suu. The aeronaut waved his hat-five thousand mouths gaped wide in unrestrained astonishment a hundred thousand eyes stared as if they would have started from their sockets—and the repeated clapping of a hundred thousand hands--loudly testified the delight of the admiring multitude.

I stood amidst the applauding throng, and the ideas conjured up by the spectacle, brought the tears into my eyes. The balloon and its occupant soon were lost to view amongst the clouds, and I sank into a reverie on the depth and the daring of th understanding of

man.

I was moved by seeing, not far from where I had placed myself, a little diminutive old man, evidently much annoyed by the pressure he was forced to sustain from the crowd surrounding him on every side. It was really not easy to say of what country this queer-looking old fellow might be. His beard, long and white with age, seemed to proclaim him a Mussulman-his complexion a Bramin from the coast of Malabar, and his dress was evidently that of a Greek of the age of Apollonius of Tyre. His small deepset, yet keen grey eyes, glanced brightly as he occasionally turned them to the heavens-the sneering smile of derision and of pity played around his thin sharp lips, and bis bald and shining head, as if oppressed by the intensity of the thoughts that filled it, rolled in alternate movement from the one shoulder to the other.

The tout ensemble of the man, his curious grimaces, and his evident want of sympathy with the joyous scene around began, only in a slight degree, however, to excite my choler. I forced my way close up to him." I say, my old fellow," said I, "old fellow, I say, thank your stars that you are permitted (before you hop the twig) to witness a scene like this." "Thank my stars, indeed!" replied old bald-pate, with a grin of scorn," shortsighted son of this short-sighted age, I pity you-I do indeed-I pity you, but I am silent." "Pity me, you may, and that as much as you please; but, why be silent? Why not say for what? Come, speak out; taciturnity is not often a fault of old age.” "Old!" he replied, "old! what do you call old?" "Why, one who, like you, carries four-fifths of a century on his bending shoulders; him I call old;" retorted I, somewhat snappishly; for, really, he could'nt be a year less. "Four-fifths of a century? ho! ho! ho!" (he laughed aloud, and his laugh was the most unjoyous I ever remember to have heard.) "Well, I never could have expected to be taken for such a youngster-ho! ho! ho!" (a youngster of eighty, thought I to myself; nay, he must be joking now.) "Thank ye, young man," he continued, “my eldest son, at the building of Nineveh, was killed by the fall of a tile, which hit him on the head, and fractured his skull; yes," he added, in a louder tone, for something like incredulity must have betrayed itself on my face and manner; "yes, a rascal of a bricklayer allowed it to drop from his hand, and the fellow should have been stoned for his carelessness; this accident happened as we were roofing in one of the finest mansions of Nineveh—aye, so long ago as that-and now my mirror, no deceiver, assures me that I appear to be, at the least, a middle-aged man of some two thousand years, or so, though I actually am above six thousand; and for this, really a very tolerable old age, I have to thank my friend, Enoch; for, just before he was translated into heaven, he presented to me the philosopher's stone, which he possessed. In my life-time I have not had many pupils; no! though, amongst these, Abaris the Scythian, Hermes the Egyptian, and Count St. Germain really have done me some credit, and I can be proud of the progress which they have made under my tuition; yet, I have seen and experienced so much ingratitude, that I don't now care what becomes of the race of man; and nothing but an event like to-day's could have roused me from the unconcern I now feel about every human occurrence. Oh! it does irk me that I am doomed to witness a piece of folly like this," pointing to the specklike object which an opening in the clouds permitted us, at the moment, to descry. "Ye love novelty-I hate it. Jean Jacques

Rousseau, your countryman, declaims against the sciences, and, by my faith, I think he isn't far wrong."

"Listen, young man! The first age of the world-the first at least, which you have ever heard of-ye term the golden. Well! nature then led mankind in leading strings, and pretty innocents they were they ran about-and very neatly too, I assure you-on all-fours. This lasted about a thousand years. Then, Sir, I was doomed to witness an astounding revolution. Would you believe it? a daring fellow stuck up hand-bills on the corners of all the streets, and in them he announced that, on such a day, at such an hour, he would walk about on his hind paws only; aye, and that without any precaution but a stuffer, and without any assistance but a cord! that he would, at last, let go the cord, and run about, all alone at full speed-there's for you! Egad! you may conceive what an uproar this made! Oh! he's a-going for to do us,' was the universal cry. 'He can not, and he will not walk on his hind-paws alone; and if he does attempt it, he'll most assuredly break his nose.' Well, the day arrived. What a gathering of town's-folks and strangers! We all squatted down on our hams, and waited for the arrival of the daring adventurer with the greatest impatience. He came, and stepped into the midst of us with the confident air of a man sure of the success of his scheme. And well he might be; for his confidence was justified by the event, which more than justified the most sanguine expectations. Well, too well, indeed, are the fatal consequences of this hardy enterprise known ! So easy did man now move about on two legs, that he quickly rambled from one quarter of the world to another, and thus he soon arrived at the so-named, or mis-named, silver age.

"About a thousand years after this, another revolution! Another, and no less daring adventurer proclaimed, that he would swim about upon the waters in a cask; and he also announced, that his sole precaution would be a rope tied to his tub. He stated too, that he would at last cut the rope, and push himself from bank to bank with a pole-nothing else! I' faith, Sir, the public did stare! All that could exclaim, exclaimed, Oh? he'll not attempt it; or, if he does, he'll most assuredly be drowned.' In presence of an immense multitude collected by the river-side, he launched forth into the stream, and floated a-down the current for more than ten fathoms! Amidst universal acclammations he stepped ashore-crowned with laurels, he was borne aloft, shoulder-high, and carried in triumph to his own modest and lowly habitation. Thus did men learn to controul a new element-thus was invented a new mode to gratify their wants-and thus, steadily impelled by the fanning gales of invention, they dashed smoothly along into the leaden age.

"A thousand years later, called the hero times of Greece, Hercules boldly ventured out into the Mediterranean; and, proud of the achievement, he resolved to perpetuate the remembrance of the affair he had performed. In the midst of the Gardens of the Hesperides, therefore, he set up two pillars, and vauntingly inscribed upon them, Ne plus ultra, Who dares go farther, ha?' He was, however, mistaken. The mind of man was forced forward by the impulse which his adventure had communicated. Navigation generated commerce-one nation exchanged with another the commodities of life, for the toys and trifles of luxury; and, in short, clothed in purple, and decked in jewels, mankind tottered onwards, and reached at length the iron age.

"Three thousand years after this, a Genoese took it into his noddle to be ashamed that men should contentedly creep along the coasts of three quarters of the world only, and dared to conceive the existence of another-a new continent; and, in search of it, he had the temerity to stretch across the mighty ocean. Fresh bursts of wonder! new expressions of incredulity! a universal murmur

Let him attempt it-he'll hardly dare to do it: and if he does he'll never return!' He did go, though, and he returned, to gain the glory of having discovered-I may almost say created-a new world. His ship resembled the famous box of Pandora-gold and spices, indeed, overflowed all the world; but with them came diseases that have proved the bane of mankind. To this last stage of existence I cannot find a name. Send me one young man.— Don't you see that Invention has but increased the miseries and the vices of mankind? and shall I not shudder at the spectacle we have just beheld?-I may and I do-for it tells me of an invention that will disclose to the ingenuity of mankind the boundary-line of a new and incalculably extensive dominion.”

KEAN IN GLASGOW.

THIS celebrated Tragedian, whose appearance in Glasgow used to be the signal for crowded audiences to besiege the doors of the Theatre, is now performing here, probably for the last time; and such is the apathy manifested by the public on this occasion, that very many, who have not observed the advertisement on the shopboards, are still ignorant that there is anything unusal in the Dunlop Street performances. On Monday night, when Mr. Kean appeared in his favourite part of Richard III. the attendance was neither so great nor so fashionable as the merits of the actor deserve. This may in some measure be attributed to the want of efficient support which was lamentably manifested that evening; and in consequence of which, immediately after the conclusion of the tragedy, the boxes and a part of the pit were almost unanimously deserted. It certainly is not to be accounted for by any want of energy in Mr. Kean's performance, for we may say, that we

have not seen him for a long time before, looking so well, and in the apparent enjoyment of so much physical strength. That he has failed something there cannot be a doubt, as his voice has no longer the strength which it used to possess, nor his frame the activity by which it was once animated. His eye, however, still retains the basilisk power which gives so much effect to the representation of villainous characters; and his mind, beyond the reach of decaying nature, yet finds an utterance for all its imitated feelings, in the tones and accents with which he gives to his characters the semblance of reality. As the part of Shylock depends more than either Richard or Othello, upon those qualities which Mr. Kean still possesses in their full vigour-those which require less activity of lungs, but at the same time display more the vigour of the mind-we anticipate great enjoyment from seeing him in this part on Friday evening. As we have heard a distinguished dramatist remark, there cannot be a better illustration of the genius of the actor, than his personification of the Jew of Venice; for to those who remember the manner in which he performed the same part, when his powers were unimpaired, and who experienced the same effect, produced on their minds, by his representation of it, now that his physical strength is less entire, this is a convincing proof, that his mind is the principal agent in his acting, and that its power is so untiring, as to set at defiance by its fresh resources the natural sinking of its corporeal tenement.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

COURTING AND CAUGHT.

My heart was joyous as a summer mead
All clad in clover,

When first I felt that swimming in my head
That marks the lover.

The wildest waste, a Canaan was to me
Of milk and honey;

Farther, I had not learnt to sipple tea,
Or count my money.

The future lay before my longing eyes
In warm perspective,

When straight I set about to exercise
The right elective.

Sweet Sarah Tims, a killing, cutting thing,
(Who now my lot is,)

With eye-lid drooping like the turtle's wing,
Soon caught my notice.

At first, I felt it was a cramping task
To pop the question;

I feared the answer I might wish to ask
Would need digestion.

But, no indeed-my dove was on the wing;
I said, "Wilt do it?"

"I care not," quoth she, "'tis a pleasant thing, Though one should rue it."

(Another Version, not quite the same.)

TO AN ABSENT ONE

My heart was joyous as a summer mead;
My brow unruffled as a summer sea;
My spirit owning nought that craved remeed,
Beloved, of thee.

The twilight of the melancholy wood,
Sore stiuts the fragrance of the widow'd flower;
And I, unsunn'd, waste in my solitude
From hour to hour.

That I have tasted pleasure, and that now

I dree, in loneliness, its bitter dearth,
Flings twofold sorrow o'er my darken'd brow,
And o'er my hearth.

For I have made of joy and thee twin things,
In the young dalliance of delighted thought;
But poor is now the pleasure that life brings,
To what it brought.

The house-dove, hov'ring round my window sill,
Murmurs warm challenge to his wishing mate;
I call alike, but vain my call; for still
I'm desolate.

I grav'd our names within the beechen wood-
The wounded bark wears the sweet signet well-
That tongued tree still to the solitude
Our names doth tell.

Oh ! that our fates were as of yore again,
When, by the brooks, we lavish'd our young love;
And made a haunted place of glade and glen-
Return, my dove!

GLASGOW GOSSIP.

THE following odd coincidence has been much talked of by those who were present at the reading of the Lunatic Asylum Report, on the 5th of this month. It appears that, in that document, evidently drawn up by Dr. Balmanno, the worthy and indefatigable physician of our far-famed establishment, most honourable mention is made of Mr. Robert M'Nair, formerly a much respected denizen of this city, and well named the father of the institu tion, whose eighteenth annual report is about to be laid before the public; and, strange to say, about the very time that the meeting was congregated, and was listening to the exertions, which Mr. M'Nair had once made in establishing the Asylum, that gentleman was breathing his last in Leith, where he had spent the latter years of a most useful life.

We understand that at a criminal trial which took place lately in Edinburgh, the following singular circumstance occurred. The jury were impannelled, and about to proceed to business, when it was all at once discovered that some of the members had come from the cholera-stricken towns of Musselburgh and Tranent. The panic which this discovery occasioned cannot be conceived. In a moment the jury became speechless and pale, and there was a general but silent effort made by all present to reach the door. This was happily effected without any accident, and the terrified jurors, after having refreshed themselves with a breath of callour air, were persuaded to go on with the trial, without suffering any other inconvenience than that which fear usually occasions.

ANOTHER COMPLAINT.

To the Editor of THE DAY.

DEAR MR. DAY,-If you have got any tender feeling, you cannot put it to a better account than lecture our Glasgow-wegians into the propriety of walking the streets-not according to their present evil ways," but after the manner they do in London, i. e. "with the right hand to the wall." Such a mode would relieve us (the tender sex) of a great deal of “jolting and squeezing," so, if you have any desire to stand high in our estimation, it is by guarding the public to do what is right, and, according to the standard adage, "right wrongs no man!" With kind wishes for your daily welfare, I remain, "most charming Day," yours,

P. S.-It almost escaped me to mention, that, at a Ladies' Party we had t'other evening, the subject of conversation concentrated into that of the most talented and polite Jour-nal (of) "The Day," when it was unanimously agreed, that, if a blank were supplied, we would pronounce it-an all-perfect Day!-of course, the blank refers alone to "births, marriages and deaths," by inserting which, " your petitioners shall ever pray,"

[We would willingly comply with the call of our fair Correspondent, but, as we do not, in any way, wish to infringe on the Stamp Acts, we have hitherto avoided inserting births, marriages and deaths.-E. of D.]

FOREIGN LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

A Society has been formed at Copenhagen, under the title of Die Königliche Gesellschaft für Nordische Alterthumskunde. It proposes to publish works connected with ancient northern literature, especially such as will throw light upon ancient northern history. The society has now been in existence for six years. It ranks amongst its members the names of Magnusen, Rafn, and others well known in the northern literary world. It publishes, every year, a report of its proceedings; and, from the last, we learn that they have already published the following volumes :FORNMANNA SÖGUR ou Sagas historiques d'événements passés hors de l'Islande, publiés dans la langue islandaise, Vol. I, II, III, IV, V & XI.

OLDNORDISKE SAGAER, traduction danoise des mêmes œuvres,
par M. C. C. Rafn, Vol. I, II, III & XI.
SCRIPTA HISTORICA ISLANDORUM, traduction latine des mêmes
Sagas, Vol. I, II & III.

ISLENDINGA SÖGUR ou Sagas historiques des événements paséss
en Islande publiés dans la langue originale, Vol. I & II.
KRAKAS MAAL ou hauts-faits et mort héroïque de Ragnar Lod-
brock en Angleterre, publiés dans la langue originale avec
traductions en danois, en latin et en français, avec notes et
remarques critiques et philologiques.
FORNALDAR SÖGUR NORDRLANDA ou Sagas mythologiques-his-
toriques et romantiques des événements du Nord avant l'occu-
pation de l'Islande dans le 9me siècle ou commencement de
l'ère proprement historique, publiés daus la langue islandaise
Vol. I-III,

NORDISKE FORTIDS-SAGAER, traduction danoise des mêmes œuvres, Vol. 1-III.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE,

SIR JOHN MALCOLM is, at present, busy with the Life of Lord Clive.

The first volume of the Georgian Era, comprising Memoirs of Persons who have flourished in Great Britain from the Accession of George I. to the demise of George IV., is in the press.

A Story of Naval Life is on the eve of appearance, to be entitled The Adventures of a Younger Son.

Mr. JAMES'S Memoirs of Celebrated Military Commanders will speedily be published.

A new edition is in the Press, with numerous plates, in 2 vols. It will include all small 8vo. of Campbell's Poetical Works. Mr. Campbell's recently published Poems.

BENT'S LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED during thE YEAR 1831.It appears from this useful little compilation, that the number of new books published in the last year was about 1100, exclusive of new editions, pamphlets, or periodicals-being 50 less than in 1830.

MISCELLANEA.

DEFINITION OF LOVE.-At a Parochial examination, a Minister asked a sort of half crazy woman what love was, which the "What's love, Nanstring of his former questions led him to, "Hoot fye, Sir," ny ?" "Love, Sir." "Yes, what's love?" says Nanny, "dinua spier sic a daft like question as that, when I'm sure ye ken that love's just an unco' fykeiness i' the mind, an' what mair can me or any ither body, say about it?"

ANECDOTE OF MADAME MALIBRAN.-At New York, GARCIA's daughter, then new to the stage, appeared at the opera, and performed with great success several different characters, such as Tancredi, Malcolm, in La Donna del Lago, Desdemona, &c. Relative to her performance of the latter character a curious anecdote is told. GARCIA played the Moor of Venice, and at the rehearsal he considered his daughter's performance so cold that be declared his determination to stab her in good earnest at the catastrophe if she did not evince a little more spirit. This threat, in the mouth of a very severe master, was taken seriously by Mademoiselle GARCIA. It had a good effect. The performance was sublime. At the conclusion, her father, in a transport of joy, overwhelmed her with praises and caresses,

RUSSIAN NAVY.-One day when I was on board the Azoff, a man fell from the main-yard into the sea, narrowly missing the Admiral's barge, which was alongside. On rising to the surface, the Admiral applied his cane pretty smartly to the man's shoulders; and, on my expressing some commiseration for the poor fellow's misfortune, the Admiral exclaimed, "Ah, the d-d rascal! be was near breaking my barge to atoms."-MS. Journal of an Officer.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

"CENSOR" will probably appear on Saturday.

"CODICIL TO THE DEVIL'S WILL" will appear to-morrow. "W. R.'s" pleasing paper on the Coliseum at Rome will appear on Saturday.

"FUMIGATOR" is under consideration.

"SOMNIATOR'S" communication will be submitted to the attention of the Board. It has as yet

PEGGY PILOT's kind epistle has been received. been our endeavour to avoid personalities, and we shall continue to do so, "that our days may be long upon the land!"

CODICIL TO THE DEVIL'S WILL.

The Devil was sick, and the Devil a monk would be, The Devil got well, but the Devil a monk was he.

INTRODUCTION.

OLD PROVERB.

A GREAT many of our apothegms have had their origin in some historical fact, and frequently when these facts have slipped, like eels, from the grasp of the historian of the age to which they belonged, they have been preserved by the voice of tradition. The writer, however, is not among those who attach historical importance to oral testimony, unless he find such testimony corroborated from other quarters. That the devil was once assailed by one of those "ills which flesh is heir to," is most distinctly asserted in the above proverb, but as to how, when, and where, it is left entirely at the mercy of conjecture. That our arch-enemy once made a will, the writer has some reason to believe, having actually seen a copy of it himself, in black letter, and purporting to have first made its appearance sometime in the seventeenth century. Now, provided this document is to be considered as genuine, we may, with great reason infer, that the devil must at one time have been seriously indisposed, for we cannot believe that one, so naturally shrewd and sagacious as auld black-a-viced is allowed to be, would have incurred the expense of a lawyer's bill, unless he felt, as our poet expresses it, "some curmurrin' in his guts." That we are correct as to the actual

existence of the deed referred to, our readers have our most positive assurance-in addition to which, we can also refer them, for particulars, to Mr. David Laing, Secretary to the Bannatyne Club, Edinburgh, and Mr. John Wylie, Secretary to the Maitland Club, Glasgow. We are induced to give these two references, in order to accommodate the readers of "The Day" in both places. Our friends in the country, we have no doubt, may also have their curiosity gratified, by franking their letters to either of the above gentlemen. Having thus, in a manner, established the existence of a "will," and also shewn the reasonableness of our deduction in relation to the devil's sickness, our readers will, perhaps, expect us to be equally explicit with respect to the date and nature of his complaint. On this subject, kind and indulgent friends, you will allow us to scratch our head, and advise, for a moment, with the crown lawyers.

As it appears to have been part of the policy of his "sublime" darkness, to refrain from issuing bulletins when he chanced to be laid on the shelf, it is extremely difficult to ascertain exactly the date of the sickness mentioned in the proverb.-If we take it for granted, however, that the ailment alluded to, suggested the propriety of the old one setting his house in order, we may venture, on what may be considered pretty tolerable authority, to fix upon the middle of the tenth century as the era of both occurrences. It appears, from the most indisputable evidence, that about this period, or rather towards the close of the century, the Archbishop of Canterbury, from what provocation it does not sufficiently appear, took a very singular and ungentlemanly liberty with the ebony beak of his Satanic majesty. The assault is recorded in the Latin archives

of the church, and was thus rendered into English doggrel, for the purpose of rivetting the exploit of the prelate more strongly on the minds of the people. St. Dunstan, as the story goes,

Once took the devil by the nose

With red hot tongs, which made him roar
Till he was heard three miles and more.

That the devil was seriously injured by the above
treatment is sufficiently clear from the document itself,
as we cannot suppose he was such a great calf as to set
up a bellowing about nothing; more particularly as
we find it recorded in our proverbs, that he once ex-
pressed his dislike of all unnecessary uproar, and is thus
represented as entering his caveat against it:
"Muckle din and little woo', as the de'il said whan he clippit

the sow.' ,,

:

Now, it is but fair to suppose that, if he possessed that consistency of character attributed to him by Milton, and others conversant with his peculiarities, he would never have condemned that conduct in poor grumphy, which he was in the habit of indulging in himself. From this circumstance, therefore, we conceive the affair with his saintship was no joke, and that he was laid up in consequence is but a natural conclusion. Now, had any of the learned practitioners of our times been formed into a well-paid board of health, and required to report on the case, we have no doubt but they would have pronounced it "inflammation of a very dangerous description," produced by the fiery indignation of the churchman. The "particular description," however, as in the case of cholera, they would have been very shy in condescending upon, so long as the pay was forthcoming. As we have no sinister purpose to serve, we shall, in few words, give our decided opinion. From the circumstance of his Satanic majesty's attention being drawn towards his friends in the disposal of his goods and chattels, it is evident that his bowels must have been affected :—and, as we have always considered the nose as a conductor of caloric, we have little doubt but the barbarous treatment he experienced from his Grace of Canterbury brought on inflammation in those parts, sufficiently alarming to beget the resolution expressed in our leading proverb, and also to suggest the propriety of his "makin' a red."

Having thus, as we conceive, given as much information on this intricate case as can well be expected, we may perhaps be allowed to indulge in a remark or two on the conduct of the saint. That he and the devil were opposed to each other in politics, is evident from the violent heat which the argument gave rise to. That the devil was, and is a staunch, consistent, outand-out anti-reformer is known to all; and though, on the present occasion, like the antis of our day, he was de defeated at his own weapons, yet, we must say, we cannot see much of that patient, urbane character in the demeanour of his Reverence which sheds such a halo round the mitres of our modern churchmen. Meek, forbearing men that they are! they would a thousand times rather permit the devil to lead them by the nose, than incur the odium of taking such uncharitable liberties with him. 'Tis true, the old gentleman conducts himself in a more polite manner than the gruff old champion of Canterbury; and, in place of shocking their feelings with the application of red hot tongs,