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Sophia Western is thrown from her horse, Camilla is run away with in a phaeton, several Julias and Carolines have been in peril of drowning from the up-setting of boats, and Lucy Aston and divers other young ladies have narrowly escaped being gored by a bull; but none of these predicaments would suit Mr. Parnell's purpose. Miss Berghetta O’Tual, (vulgarly Berrett Toole,) the widow Toole's daughter, had neither horse nor phaeton to run away with her, nor are there, we believe, any roads in Rahery upon which that exploit could be performed; the sea, to be sure, was open to a case of drowning, but Mr. Parnell had an absolute necessity to reserve this accident for an ulterior emergency; and bulls are not in Ireland objects of peculiar terror—all these, therefore, Mr. Parnell judiciously rejects, and with a simplicity which must delight the lover of real life, frightens his village heroine with the barking of a village dog. * “But how came you acquainted f" said I, “for she never sees any one in her mother's house, nor ever leaves it but to go to chapel, and then she draws her cloak over her face, and speaks to no man.” “Ah, father, when I first saw that pale (quere hale) and heavenly face, which was never uncovered but at her devotions, so gentle, so sweet, so pure! many ways I tried to accosther, but she heeded me not, but chance favoured me; as she was passing by a house, some dogs ran out and barked at her; and she has such an extreme terror of these cabin curs, that she screamed and began to run. I was never far from her on her return from chapel, and flew to her assistance. I dealt one of the dogs a blow with my stick, with such good will, that I laid him dead.—l then overtook Berghetta, who was so terrified, that she could scarcely stand, and was obliged to lean on my arm, and let me accompany her home. Yet in all other respects, she is a hale (quere pale) active girl; and who milks a cow, or tends her dairy better? Her mother smiled on me when I brought her home, and I saw that my fortune was made.’ —p. 93, 94. This interesting hale, pale, Berghetta,“ though obligated to milk cows, was lineally descended from king O'Toole, who was formerly sovereign of that very county of which Mr. Parnell—quantum mutatus abillo Hectore!—is now a simple knight of the shire —an alliance with Maurice was, however, no degradation, even to the O'Tooles—Maurice himself being lineally descended from king O'Neal, sovereign of Tyrone, though of all the property of his house he possessed nothing but a beautiful pedigree written in gold upon vellum, a mud cabin and a score of acres of hungry land.’ p. 5. The nuptials of these royal peasants were therefore celebrated, to the great joy of the two illustrious houses, and three children blest the happy union; one of these was a daughter, whom with that strict attention to historical accuracy and national feeling which distinguishes Mr. Parnell, he christens Geraldine, thereby intimating timating that the Fitzgeralds, to whom the name of Geraldine is appropriate, were of the ancient houses of O’Neal or O'Toole. And now, in the midst of all this happiness, the clouds of disappointment and sorrow appear. The widow Toole dies, and is carried two hundred miles to be buried in the tomb of king O'Toole, her ancestor. She is no sooner laid by the side of her progenitor, in the Re-feast or royal sepuchre of the Seven Churches, than her ghost appears to her daughter Berrett, who thereupon, without ailment or notice, dies, as the Americans express it, “slick right away.' Misfortunes never come alone—Maurice and the Priest had a common friend, an officer (he seemed to mortal eyes) in the Irish brigade, in the French service, but the gods, Father O’Brian, and Mr. Parnell, know him to be Hi Sullivan Bere, king of Kerry. Maurice had saved this young prince from drowning by the upsetting of his boat in Bantry bay, and of course became his devoted friend. The prince (or his father, the late king Sullivan) had lost a law-suit against one Squire Dale, which so exasperated the royal youth, that, about the time of Berrett's death, he came from France with Una, (both of course in love and plighted to each other,) with the noble design of raising a rebellion in Ireland, in the hopes of recovering by war the land which he had lost by law. Maurice and the Priest do not quite approve such proceedings, but as their friend is resolved upon having a little disturbance, they consider it a point of honour to accompany him. On Hi Sullivan's arrival amongst his clan, he assembles them for his patriotic enterprize; but while he is endeavouring, by Maurice's mediation, to extort from Mr. Dale 5000l. on condition of suspending hostilities, the mob, not understanding such shilly-shally practices, set fire to the house (more hibernico) and burn Mr. and Mrs. Dale and all their family alive. Although this was a little mistake in which Hi Sullivan had no direct share, he having intended to commit high treason only, and not arson and murder, yet on the general evidence of the facts and the particular evidence of some false witnesses, who swore that he had actually ordered them to burn Mr. Dale's house, king Hi Sullivan was convicted and hanged, to the great sorrow and indignation of Maurice, Father O’Brian, and Mr. Parnell, who consider his punishment as a most brutal and infamous instance of the oppression of the Irish government. This little accident renders a residence in Ireland not over agreeable to queen Una, who thereupon goes to Spain, where she is immediately introduced to their catholic majesties, who take her into great favour, and acknowledge at once, and without reference even to the Herald's College, her rank of princess.

“When we reached the circle where the queen sat, I made a slender

der curtsey, preserving myself from that mean assiduousness, which characterises courtiers both male and female.—She said, in Spanish, “we are obliged to the princess Hi Sullivan for the honour she does our court,” and seemed as if she would have said more, but was restrained by the forms of this most formal court; but these few words were accompanied by a smile of great sweetness.

““A few days after, the Condé O'Donnell told me, that I had formed the conversation of the whole court, and that my beauty, and the ease and dignity of my manner, were the admiration of all: this interested me very little, but not so when he proceeded to say, that the queen was charmed with me, said openly that there was no lady in the Spanish or French court to be compared with me, and had desired the Condé to request, that I would pay her a morning visit.”—p. 295, 296.

To this and similar letters her highness now subscribes herself— - & 44 UNA, Princess Hi Sullivan Bere, —born Hi Nial.”—p. 311.

This recognition of the Hi Nials by the court of Spain gives, of course, prince Maurice great satisfaction, which is much increased by John Headcroft, the farmer's son, whom he had formerly met in England, dying and leaving him a legacy of one hundred thousand pounds! Riches and honour however cannot make man immortal.—Poor Maurice dies, and his three children, with the vellum pedigree in gold letters and John Headcroft's hundred thousand pounds, are sent to Spain to the guardianship of the * Princess Hi Sullivan Bere—born Hi Nial.”

* The boys, in right of their father, had the title of Prince acknowledged, and the rank of Grandees of Spain superadded. And they and Geraldine received much courtesy from the Spanish court’—p. 317.

The queen of Spain took as great a fancy to Geraldine as she had done to her Highness of Hi Sullivan; and having resolved to see her well married, her majesty, with a delicacy of sentiment and an easy familiarity peculiar to the court of Spain, had a list of all the unmarried grandees made out, and the grandees hereupon were drawn up in a line in the drawing-room, in order that Geraldine might pick out a husband for herself.

* “When Geraldine appeared, the queen with little ceremony announced her intentions; and telling Geraldine with many compliments, that there was not a single young lord of the court but what aspired to obtain her hand, bade her choose whomever she would prefer for a husband ; “Here is a list of their names,” said her majesty smiling, “but as I believe you have scarcely deigned to know them by name, I have

assembled them all here, in case you know their faces better.” ““Geraldine replied without raising her eyes from the ground; “your majesty's commands are sufficient to excuse in me what otherwise would be deemed unusual presumption. In obedience to these I Inaille name the duke D'Uuzeda, if his grace will condescend to accept the poor offer of my duty.” * “Here Geraldine's limbs nearly failed her; but the queen herself supported her, and cried to the duke, who rushed forward, “stop, D'Uuzeda, perhaps here is some mistake, and I do not mean that the princess Hi Nial should be a victim to her obedience.” * “Do you know,' continued she to Geraldine, that the duke is absolutely without fortune, and therefore never pretended to your hand?' * “‘No, Madam, I did not know that circumstance.’ * “‘Have you ever seen the duke's face o' * “‘No, Madam." * “‘How came you then to know any thing about him o' * “‘ I saw,” said Geraldine, after some hesitation, and sinking in the queen's arms, “I saw his name in a book.”—p. 327–329.

And so the princess Geraldine Hi Nial became duchess of D'Uuzeda, (we follow Mr. Parnell's orthography,) and after a visit paid by the duke, duchess, princesses and grandees, to Father O’Brian in Rahery, this sensible and instructive little tale is brought to a conclusion.

We have been so full in our account of the story, that we have little room for the Irish observations of which Mr. Parnell has made it the vehicle.—Some of them, however, must be noticed.

The work is dedicated, in a strain of what we should have thought very fulsome flattery, to the Roman Catholic priesthood of Ireland; but we doubt whether any flattery will reconcile them to Father O’Brian's confession, (p. 25.) that he was for the greater part of his life but a sorry apostle, very little fitted to benefit his flock, till he happened to become accidentally possessed of “a number of religious books, which, though written by Protestants, made a deep and salutary impression on him, and opened his mind to a true sense of that religion which he had so long unworthily professed. This avowal, put into the mouth of a popish priest, is as natural and rational as all the rest of the work. Nor is the following unimportant, considering that Mr. Parnell professes to be a partial and favourable observer of the character and conduct of the Irish Catholic clergy.

“Indeed, says Father O'Brian, (speaking of a miserable female quack who pretended to effect cures,) “if I had chosen to act the religious impostor, I might have spoilt all Rose M'Cormick's trade; people with agues, and fits, scrofula, and white swellings, came from all parts to have the Bible read over them, or to have me stroke the seat of the complaint; but it always seemed impious to me to allow these poor creatures to believe, that sinners like themselves could work miracles, even though a cure might sometimes be wrought by the strong agency of their own fancies; and it's being so GENERALLY practised by priests may give colour to our enemies, to say we do not care by what means we keep up the influence of our clergy over their ignorant flock.’—p. 24. Thus, if we are to credit our author, imposition and impiety (these are hard words, Mr. Parnell) have been generally practised by that very body to whom he dedicates his work in terms of lavish panegyric! so lavish indeed, that his adulation runs away with his judgment and memory, and almost, it would seem, with his creed. Mr. Parnell, a member of the legislature, must have sworn over and over again that he believes “the sacrifice of the mass' and other forms of the Roman Catholic church to be superstitious and idolatrous, and yet he assures these priests, whose first duty is the performance of these superstitious and idolatrous rites, that the domestic nomination of their bishops, ‘a principle already happily begun, must raise their church to an eminence for piety and talent far above the protestant or any other church.’—p. ix. If Mr. Parnell believes, as he says, that the Irish papist church (for he seems to distinguish it from the Church of Rome) is, in ‘simplicity,” “purity,” and ‘piety, far above the Church of England, why does he not reconcile himself to that transcendant church? why, at least, does he not tell us how he contrives with these sentiments to subscribe to the words superstitious and idolatrous at the table of the House of Commons : We meddle not with the spirit or the expressions of these oaths and declarations; we may perhaps have questioned their policy; but we were not wholly convinced of their inadequacy to fulfill even their own object, till we read the profession of faith of this conscientious senator, and found that they do not exclude from a seat in parliament, one who prefers the Roman catholic church to the church of England. If, on the other hand, Mr. Parnell be really a protestant, and these warm praises of the popish church be the mere flattery of a dedicator, we cannot applaud either his good taste or his sincerity; and (what he will perhaps consider a greater misfortune) we believe that such of the popish priests and freeholders of Wicklowshire as may chance to read his book, will give him very little thanks for his pains. What strain of general encomium, however profuse, can reconcile the Roman Catholic priesthood to such degrading confessions as Mr. Parnell has put into the mouth of their representative Father O’Brien; or palliate, in the eyes of the Irish laity, such charges as Mr. Parnell has produced against their morals, their manners, their intellects, and their disposition “What bunglers" he exclaims, ‘what idle, careless bunglers, are our farmers compared with the English!—There is a part of an English farming man's life which an Irishman does not live; that is between four and six o'clock in the morning. Every body there rises before four in WOL. XXI. N.O. XLII. II H the

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