: hunting widow; Michael Armstrong, or the Factory ceased to keep alive the strongest and often the Boy, a caricature of the evils attendant on the manu- worst passions of our nature; whose pauses, during facturing system; and One Fault, a domestic story, that long lapse of a country's existence, from actual illustrating with uncommon vigour and effect the conflict in the field, have been but so many changes dismal consequences of that species of bad temper into mental strife, and who to this day are held which proceeds from pride and over sensitiveness. prepared, should the war-cry be given, to rush at In 1840 we had The Widow Married; and in 1841 each other's throats, and enact scenes that, in the The Blue Belles of England, and Charles Chesterfield. columns of a newspaper, would show more terribly The latter relates the history of a youth of genius, vivid than any selected by us from former facts, and contains a satirical picture of the state of lite- for the purposes of candid, though slight illustrarature in England, branding authors, editors, and tion.' There was too much of this 'strong writing' publishers with unprincipled profligacy, selfishness, in The Croppy, and worse faults were found in the and corruption. In 1842 Mrs Trollope, besides prolixity of some of the dialogues and descriptions, throwing off another novel (The Ward of Thorpe and a too palpable imitation of the style of Sir Combe), gave the public the result of a second Walter Scott in his historical romances. The scenes visit to Belgium, describing the changes that had peculiarly Irish are, however, written with Mr been effected since 1833, and also A Visit to Italy. Banim's characteristic vigour he describes the The smart caustic style of our authoress was not burning of a cabin till we seem to witness the specso well adapted to the classic scenes, manners, and tacle; and the massacre at Vinegar Hill is portrayed antiquities of Italy, as to the broader features of with the distinctness of dramatic action. Nanny American life and character, and this work was not the knitter is also one of his happiest Irish likeso successful as her previous publications. Return-nesses. The experiment made by the author to ing to fiction, we find Mrs Trollope, as usual, prolific. depict, like Scott, the manners and frivolities of the Three novels, of three volumes each, were the pro- higher classes-to draw a sprightly heroine, a maiden duce of 1843-Hargrave, Jessie Phillips, and The aunt, or the ordinary characters and traits of genteel Laurringtons. The first is a sketch of a man of society-was decidedly a failure. His strength lay fashion; the second an attack on the new English in the cabin and the wild heath, not in the drawingpoor-law; and the third a lively satire on 'superior room. In 1830 Mr Banim published The Denounced, people,' the bustling Botherbys' of society. Review- in three volumes, a work consisting of two tales ing the aggregate labours of this industrious author--The Last Baron of Crana, and The Conformists. ess, we cannot say that she has done good propor- The same beauties and defects which characterise tioned to her talents. Her satire is directed against The Croppy are seen in The Denounced; but The the mere superficialities of life, and is not calculated Conformists is a deeply-interesting story, and calls to check vice or encourage virtue. In depicting forth Mr Banim's peculiarities of description and high life, she wants the genial spirit and humanity knowledge of character in a very striking light. His of Theodore Hook. She has scattered amusement object is to depict the evils of that system of antiamong novel-readers by some of her delineations; Catholic tyranny when the penal laws were in full but in all her mirth there is a mocking and bitter force, by which home education was denied to Cathospirit, which is often as misplaced as it is unfemi- lic families unless by a Protestant teacher. The nine. more rigid of the Catholics abjured all instruction thus administered; and Mr Banim describes the effects of ignorance and neglect on the second son of a Catholic gentleman, haughty, sensitive, and painfully alive to the disadvantages and degradation of his condition. The whole account of this family, the D'Arcys, is written with great skill and effect. In 1838 Mr Banim collected several of his contributions to periodical works, and published them under the title of The Bit o' Writin', and other Tales. In 1842 he came forward with an original and excellent novel, in three volumes, Father Connell, the hero being an aged and benevolent Catholic priest, not unworthy of association with the Protestant Vicar of Wakefield. This primitive pastor becomes the patron of a poor vagrant boy, Neddy Fennell, whose adventures furnish the incidents for the story. There is, as usual with Mr Banim, a variety of incidents minutely related-scenes of gloom and terror-and a complete knowledge of the moral anatomy of our nature. This was destined to be the last work of the author. He died in August 1842, in the prime of life, in the neighbourhood of Kilkenny, which also was his birthplace. Mr Banim began life as a miniature painter; but, seduced from his profession by promptings too strong to be resisted, and by the success of a tragedy, Damon and Pythias, he early abandoned art, and adopted literature as a profession; and he will be long remembered as the writer of that powerful and painful series of novels, "The O'Hara Tales." Some years previous, the general sympathy was attracted to Mr Banim's struggle against the suffering and privation which came in the train of disease that precluded all literary exertion; and on that occasion Sir Robert Peel came to the aid of the distressed author, whose latter years were JOHN BANIM. The Tales of the O'Hara Family, first and second series, 1825 and 1826, produced a strong and vivid impression on all readers of fiction. The author seemed to unite the truth and circumstantiality of Crabbe with the dark and gloomy power of Godwin; and in knowledge of Irish character, habits, customs, and feeling, he was superior to even Miss Edgeworth or Lady Morgan. The story of the Nowlans, and that of Croohore of the Bill-Hook, can never be forgotten by those who have once perused them. The force of the passions, and the effects of crime, turbulence, and misery, have rarely been painted with such overmastering energy, or wrought into narratives of more sustained and harrowing interest. The probability of his incidents was not much attended to by the author, and he indulged largely in scenes of horror and violence-in murders, abductions, pursuits, and escapes-but the whole was related with such spirit, raciness, and truth of costume and colouring, that the reader had neither time nor inclination to note defects. The very peculiarities of the Irish dialect and pronunciation (though constituting at first a difficulty in perusal, and always too much persisted in by Mr Banim) heightened the wild native flavour of the stories, and enriched them with many new and picturesque words and phrases. These original and striking tales were followed up in 1828 by another Irish story, The Croppy, connected with the insurrection in 1798. 'We paint,' said the author, from the people of a land amongst whom, for the last six hundred years, national provocations have never restored to his native country, and made easy by a yearly pension of £150 from the civil list, to which an addition of £40 a-year was afterwards made for the education of his daughter, an only child.'* Besides the works we have mentioned, Mr Banim wrote Boyne Water, and other poetical pieces; and he contributed largely to the different magazines and annuals. The O'Hara Tales' had given him a name that carried general attraction to all lovers of light literature; and there are few of these short and hasty tales that do not contain some traces of his unrivalled Irish power and fidelity of delineation. In some respects Mr Banim was a mannerist: his knowledge extended over a wide surface of Irish history and of character, under all its modifications; but his style and imagination were confined chiefly to the same class of subjects, and to a peculiar mode of treating them. Thus the consciousness of power in the description of unhallowed and unregulated impulse, appears to draw him often away from contemplating those feelings of a more pleasing kind, to comprehend and to delineate which is so necessary a condition to the attainment of perfection in his art. Thus the boldness and minuteness of detail, which give reality to his frequent scenes of lawless ness and violence, are too often forced close on the verge of vulgar honour and melodramatic artifice. To be brief, throughout the whole of his writings there is a sort of overstrained excitement, a wil ful dwelling upon turbulent and unchastened passions, which, as it is a vice most often incident to the workings of real genius, more especially of Irish genius, so perhaps it is one which meets with least mercy from well-behaved prosaic people.'t This defect he partially overcame in his later writings. "Father Connell' is full of gentle affectionate feelings and delineation, and some of his smaller tales are distinguished by great delicacy and tenderness. hard towards a spot brilliantly illuminated, they saw Saunders Smyly vigorously engaged in one of his tasks as disciplinarian to the Ballybreehoone cavalry. With much ostentation, his instrument of torture was flourished round his head, and though at every lash the shrieks of the sufferer came loud, the lashes themselves were scarce less distinct. A second group challenged the eye. Shawn-a-Gow's house stood alone in the village. A short distance before its door was a lime-tree, with benches contrived all round the trunk, upon which, in summer weather, the gossipers of the village used to seat themselves. This tree, standing between our spectators and the blaze, cut darkly against the glowing objects beyond it; and three or four yeomen, their backs turned to the hill, their faces to the burning house, and consequently their figures also appearing black, seemed busily occupied in some feat that required the exertion of pulling with their hands lifted above their heads. Shawn flashed an inquiring glance upon them, and anon a human form, still, like their figures, vague and undefined in blackness, gradually became elevated from the ground beneath the tree, until its head almost touched a projecting branch, and then it remained stationary, suspended from that branch. Shawn's rage increased to madness at this sight, though he did not admit it to be immediately connected with his more individual causes for wrath. And now came an event that made a climax, for the present, to his emotions, and at length caused some expressions of his pent-up feelings. A loud crackling taller and more dense than any by which it was precrash echoed from his house; a volume of flame, ceded, darted up to the heavens; then almost former darkness fell on the hill-side; a gloomy red glow alone remained on the objects below; and nothing but thick smoke, dotted with sparks, continued to issue from his dwelling. After everything that could interiorly supply food to the flame had been devoured, it was the roof of his old house that now fell in. By the ashes o' my cabin, burnt down before me this night-an' I stannin' a houseless beggar on the hill-side lookin' at id-while I can get an Orangeman's house to take the blaze, an' a wisp to kindle the blaze up, I'll burn ten houses for that one!' And so asseverating, he recrossed the summit of the hill, and, followed by Peter Rooney, descended into the little valley of refuge. [Description of the Burning of a Croppy's House.] The smith kept a brooding and gloomy silence; his almost savage yet steadfast glare fastened upon the element that, not more raging than his own bosom, devoured his dwelling. Fire had been set to the house in many places within and without; and though at first it crept slowly along the surface of the thatch, or only sent out bursting wreaths of vapour from the interior, or through the doorway, few minutes elapsed until the whole of the combustible roof was one mass of flame, shooting up into the serene air MR CROKER has been one of the most industrious in a spire of dazzling brilliancy, mixed with vivid and tasteful collectors of the legendary lore, the sparks, and relieved against a background of dark-poetical traditions and antiquities of Ireland. In gray smoke. Sky and earth appeared reddened into common ignition with the blaze. The houses around gleamed hotly; the very stones and rocks on the hill-side seemed portions of fire; and Shawn-a-Gow's bare head and herculean shoulders were covered with spreading showers of the ashes of his own roof. His distended eye fixed too upon the figures of the actors in this scene, now rendered fiercely distinct, and their scabbards, their buttons, and their polished black helmets, bickering redly in the glow, as, at a command from their captain, they sent up the hillside three shouts over the demolition of the Croppy's dwelling. But still, though his breast heaved, and though wreaths of foam edged his lips, Shawn was silent; and little Peter now feared to address a word to him. And other sights and occurrences claimed whatever attention he was able to afford. Rising to a pitch of shrillness that over-mastered the cheers of the yeomen, the cries of a man in bodily agony struck on the cars of the listeners on the hill, and looking T. CROFTON CROKER. 1824 appeared his Researches in the South of Ireland, one volume, quarto, containing a judicious and happy mixture of humour, sentiment, and antiquarianism. This was followed by Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland, 1827; Legends of the Lakes, or Sayings and Doings at Killarney, two volumes, 1828; Daniel O'Rourke, or Rhymes of a Pantomime founded on that Story, 1828; Barney Mahoney, 1832; My Vil lage versus Our Village, 1832; Popular Songs of Ireland, 1839, &c. The tales of Barney Mahoney' and My Village' are Mr Croker's only efforts at strictly original composition, his other works being compilations, like Scott's Minstrelsy, and entered upon with equal enthusiasm and knowledge of his subject. Barney is a low Irish servant, and his adventures much force or interest. My Village' is an English are characteristic and amusing, though without tale, and by no means happy either in conception dressed or represented her village en vaudeville, like or execution. Miss Mitford may have occasionally the back-scene of a theatre, but Mr Croker errs on the opposite side. He gives us a series of Dutch paintings, too little relieved by imagination or passion to excite or gratify the curiosity of the reader. He is happiest among the fanciful legends of his native country, treasuring up their romantic features, quoting fragments of song, describing a lake or ruin, hitting off a dialogue or merry jest, and chronicling the peculiarities of his countrymen in their humours, their superstition, and rustic simplicity. The following is the account which he puts into the mouth of one of his characters, of the last of the Irish serpents. 6 ، Sure everybody has heard tell of the blessed St Patrick, and how he druve the sarpints and all manner of venomous things out of Ireland; how he 'bothered all the varmint' entirely. But for all that, there was one ould sarpint left, who was too cunning to be talked out of the country, and made to drown himself. St Patrick didn't well know how to manage this fellow, who was doing great havoc; till, at long last he bethought himself, and got a strong iron chest made with nine boults upon it. So one fine morning he takes a walk to where the sarpint used to keep; and the sarpint, who didn't like the saint in the least, and small blame to him for that, began to hiss and show his teeth at him like anything. 'Oh,' says St Patrick, says he, ، where's the use of making such a piece of work about a gentleman like myself coming to see you. 'Tis a nice house I have got made for you agin the winter; for I'm going to civilise the whole country, man and beast,' says he, and you can come and look at it whenever you please, and 'tis myself will be glad to see you.' The sarpint hearing such smooth words, thought that though St Patrick had druve all the rest of the sarpints into the sea, he meant no harm to himself; so the sarpint walks fair and easy up to see him and the house he was speaking about. But when the sarpint saw the nine boults upon the chest, he thought he was sould (betrayed), and was for making off with himself as fast as ever he could. Tis a nice warm house, you see,' says St Patrick, and 'tis a good friend I am to you.' 'I thank you kindly, St Patrick, for your civility,' says the sarpint; but I think it's too small it is for me'. meaning it for an excuse, and away he was going. 'Too small!' says St Patrick, stop, if you please,' says he, 'you're out in that, my boy, anyhow-I am sure 'twill fit you completely; and I'll tell you what,' says he, I'll bet you a gallon of porter,' says he, that if you'll only try and get in, there'll be plenty of room for you.' The sarpint was as thirsty as could be with his walk ; and 'twas great joy to him the thoughts of doing St Patrick out of the gallon of porter; so, swelling himself up as big as he could, in he got to the chest, all but a little bit of his tail. There, now,' says he, I've won the gallon, for you see the house is too small for me, for I can't get in my tail.' When what does St Patrick do, but he comes behind the great heavy lid of the chest, and, putting his two hands to it, down he slaps it with a bang like thunder. When the rogue of a sarpint saw the lid coming down, in went his tail like a shot, for fear of being whipped off him, and St Patrick began at once to boult the nine iron boults. 'Oh, murder! wont you let me out, St Patrick?' says the sarpint; I've lost the bet fairly, and I'll pay you the gallon like a man.' Let you out, my darling,' says St Patrick, to be sure I will, by all manner of means; but you see I haven't time now, so you must wait till to-morrow.' And so he took the iron chest, with the sarpint in it, and pitches it into the lake here, where it is to this hour for certain; and 'tis the sarpint struggling down at the bottom that makes the waves upon it. Many is the living man (continued Picket) besides myself has heard the sarpint crying out from within the chest under the water-Is it to-morrow yet?-is it to-morrow yet? 6 which, to be sure, it never can be: and that's the way St Patrick settled the last of the sarpints, sir. The national character of Ireland was further illustrated by two collections of tales published anonymously, entitled To-day in Ireland, 1825; and Yesterday in Ireland, 1829. Though imperfectly acquainted with the art of a novelist, this writer is often correct and happy in his descriptions and historical summaries. Like Banim, he has ventured on the stormy period of 1798, and has been more minute than his great rival in sketching the circumstances of the rebellion. MR CROWE, author of The English in Italy and France, a work of superior merit, is said to be the author of these tales. The REV. CESAR OTWAY, of Dublin, in his Sketches of Ireland, and his Tour in Connaught, &c. 1839, has displayed many of the most valuable qualities of a novelist, without attempting the construction of a regular story. His lively style and humorous illustrations of the manners of the people render his topographical works very pleasant as well as instructive reading. Mr Otway was a keen theologian, a determined anti-Catholic, but full of Irish feeling and universal kindliness. He died in March 1842. GERALD GRIFFIN. GERALD GRIFFIN, author of some excellent Irish tales, was born at Limerick on the 12th of December 1803. His first schoolmaster appears to have been a true Milesian pedant and original, for one of his advertisements begins-When ponderous pollyboasted of being one of three persons in Ireland who syllables promulgate professional powers!'-and he knew how to read correctly; namely, the Bishop of Killaloe, the Earl of Clare, and himself, Mr MacEligot! Gerald was afterwards placed under a private tutor, whence he was removed to attend a school at Limerick. While a mere youth, he became connected with the Limerick Advertiser newspaper; but having written a tragedy, he migrated to London in himself in literature and the drama. Disappointhis twentieth year, with the hope of distinguishing ment very naturally followed, and Gerald betook himself to reporting for the daily press and contributing to the magazines. In 1825 he succeeded in getting an operatic melodrama brought out at the English Opera House; and in 1827 appeared his Holland-Tide, or Munster Popular Tales, a series of short stories, thoroughly Irish, and evincing powers of observation and description from which much might be anticipated. This fortunate beginning was followed up the same year by Tales of the Munster Festivals, containing Card-Drawing, the Half-Sir, and Suil Dhuv the Coiner, three volumes. nationality of these tales, and the talent of the author in depicting the mingled levity and pathos of the Irish character, rendered them exceedingly popular. His reputation was still further increased by the publication, in 1829, of The Collegians; a Second Series of Tales of the Munster Festivals, three volumes, which proved to be the most popular of all his works, and was thought by many to place Griffin as an Irish novelist above Banim and Carleton. Some of the scenes possess a deep and melancholy interest; for, in awakening terror, and painting the sterner passions and their results, Griffin displayed the art and power of a master. The Collegians,' says a writer in the Edinburgh Review, is a very interesting and well-constructed tale, full of incident and passion. It is a history of the clandestine union of a young man of good birth and fortune with a girl of far inferior rank, and of the consequences The Still be his care in future years And when our Christmas days are past, When her pure hands are raised for him! His mind, fixed on this subject, still retained its youthful buoyancy and cheerfulness, and he made a tour in Scotland, which afforded him the highest sain the autumn of 1838, and joined the Christian tisfaction and enjoyment. He retired from the world Brotherhood (whose duty it is to instruct the poor) in the monastery at Cork. In the second year of his noviciate he was attacked with typhus fever, and died on the 12th of June 1840. which too naturally result. The gradual decay of an attachment which was scarcely based on anything better than sensual love-the irksomeness of concealment the goadings of wounded pride-the suggestions of self-interest, which had been hastily neglected for an object which proves inadequate when gained-all these combining to produce, first, neglect, and lastly, aversion, are interestingly and vividly described. An attachment to another, superior both in mind and station, springs up at the same time; and to effect a union with her, the unhappy wife is sacrificed. It is a terrible representation of the course of crime; and it is not only forcibly, but naturally displayed. The characters sometimes express their feelings with unnecessary energy, strong emotions are too long dwelt upon, and incidents rather slowly developed; but there is no common skill and power evinced in the conduct of the tale.' In 1830 Mr Griffin was again in the field with his Irish sketches. Two tales, The || Rivals, and Tracey's Ambition, were well received, though improbable in plot and ill-arranged in incident. The author continued his miscellaneous WILLIAM CARLETON, author of Traits and Stories labours for the press, and published, besides a number of contributions to periodicals, another of the Irish Peasantry, was born at Prillisk, in the series of stories, entitled Tales of the Five Senses. parish of Clogher, and county of Tyrone, in the year These are not equal to his Munster Tales,' but are, 1798. His father was a person in lowly station-a nevertheless, full of fine Irish description and cha- peasant-but highly and singularly gifted. His meracter, and of that 'dark and touching power' which mory was unusually retentive, and as a teller of old Mr Carleton assigns as the distinguishing excellence tales, legends, and historical anecdotes, he was unof his brother novelist. In 1832 the townsmen of rivalled; and his stock of them was inexhaustible. Mr Griffin devolved upon him a very pleasing duty He spoke the Irish and English languages with nearly -to wait upon Mr Moore the poet, and request that equal fluency. His mother was skilled in the native he would allow himself to be put in nomination for music of the country, and possessed the sweetest and the representation of the city of Limerick in parlia-brated for the effect she gave to the Irish cry or most exquisite of human voices.* She was celement. Mr Moore prudently declined this honour, keene.' 'I have often been present,' says her son, but appears to have given a characteristically kind when she has "raised the keene" over the corpse and warm reception to his young enthusiastic visitor, of some relative or neighbour, and my readers may and his brother, who accompanied him. this expression of her sympathy, when I assure them judge of the melancholy charm which accompanied that the general clamour of violent grief was gradu WILLIAM CARLETON. Notwithstanding the early success and growing reputation of Mr Griffin, he appears to have soon become tired of the world, and anxious to retreat from its toils and its pleasures. He had been edu-ally diminished, from admiration, until it became cated in the Roman Catholic faith, and one of his sisters had, about the year 1,1830, taken the veil. This circumstance awakened the poetical and devotional feelings and desires that formed part of his character, and he grew daily more anxious to quit the busy world for a life of religious duty and service. The following verses, written at this time, are expressive of his new enthusiasm : Seven dreary winters gone and spent, I left my Irish home and you. How passed those years I will not say; And blest be he for all their good. How pleasing is a sight like this! Oh, darling of a heart that still, By earthly joys so deeply trod, The warmth of nature and of God! ultimately hushed, and no voice was heard but her own-wailing in sorrowful but solitary beauty. With such parents Carleton could not fail to imbibe the peculiar feelings and superstitions of his country. His humble home was a fitting nursery for Irish genius. His first schoolmaster was a Connaught man, in the Hedge School.' He also received some innamed Pat Frayne, the prototype of Mat Kavanagh struction from a classical teacher, a 'tyrannical blockhead' who settled in the neighbourhood, and it was afterwards agreed to send him to Munster, as a poor scholar, to complete his education. The poor scholars of Munster are indebted for nothing but. their bed and board, which they receive from the parents of the scholars. In some cases a collection is made to provide an outfit for the youth thus leaving home; but Carleton's own family supplied the funds supposed to be necessary. The circumstances attending his departure Mr Carleton has related in his fine tale, The Poor Scholar.' As he journeyed slowly along the road, his superstitious fears got the better of his ambition to be a scholar, and stopping for the night at a small inn by the way, a disagreeable dream determined the home-sick lad to return to his father's cottage. His affectionate parents were equally joyed to receive him; and Carleton seems to have done little for some years but join in the sports and pastimes of the people, and attend every wake, dance, fair, and merry-making in the *These particulars concerning the personal history of the novelist are contained in his introduction to the last edition of the Traits and Storics." paintings, too little relieved by imagination or passion to excite or gratify the curiosity of the reader. He is happiest among the fanciful legends of his native country, treasuring up their romantic features, quoting fragments of song, describing a lake or ruin, hitting off a dialogue or merry jest, and chronicling the peculiarities of his countrymen in their humours, their superstition, and rustic simplicity. The following is the account which he puts into the mouth of one of his characters, of the last of the Irish serpents. which, to be sure, it never can be: and that's the way St Patrick settled the last of the sarpints, sir. The national character of Ireland was further illustrated by two collections of tales published anonymously, entitled To-day in Ireland, 1825; and Yesterday in Ireland, 1829. Though imperfectly acquainted with the art of a novelist, this writer is often correct and happy in his descriptions and historical summaries. Like Banim, he has ventured on the stormy period of 1798, and has been more minute than his great rival in sketching the circumstances of the rebellion. MR CROWE, author of The English in Italy and France, a work of superior merit, is said to be the author of these tales. The REV. CESAR OTWAY, of Dublin, in his Sketches of Ireland, and his Tour in Connaught, &c. 1839, has displayed many of the most valuable qualities of a novelist, without attempting the construction of a regular story. His lively style and humorous illustrations of the manners of the people render his topographical works very pleasant as well as instructive reading. Mr Otway was a keen theolo gian, a determined anti-Catholic, but full of Irish feeling and universal kindliness. He died in March 1842. GERALD GRIFFIN. GERALD GRIFFIN, author of some excellent Irish 1803. tales, was born at Limerick on the 12th of December His first schoolmaster appears to have been a true Milesian pedant and original, for one of his advertisements begins-When ponderous pollyboasted of being one of three persons in Ireland who syllables promulgate professional powers!'-and he knew how to read correctly; namely, the Bishop of Killaloe, the Earl of Clare, and himself, Mr MacEligot! Gerald was afterwards placed under a private tutor, whence he was removed to attend a school Sure everybody has heard tell of the blessed St Patrick, and how he druve the sarpints and all manner of venomous things out of Ireland; how he 'bothered all the varmint' entirely. But for all that, there was one ould sarpint left, who was too cunning to be talked out of the country, and made to drown himself. St Patrick didn't well know how to manage this fellow, who was doing great havoc; till, at long last he bethought himself, and got a strong iron chest made with nine boults upon it. So one fine morning he takes a walk to where the sarpint used to keep; and the sarpint, who didn't like the saint in the least, and small blame to him for that, began to hiss and show his teeth at him like anything. Oh,' says St Patrick, says he, where's the use of making such a piece of work about a gentleman like myself coming to see you. 'Tis a nice house I have got made for you agin the winter; for I'm going to civilise the whole country, man and beast,' says he, and you can come and look at it whenever you please, and 'tis myself will be glad to see you.' The sarpint hearing such smooth words, thought that though St Patrick had druve all the rest of the sarpints into the sea, he meant no harm to himself; so the sarpint walks fair and easy up to see him and the house he was speaking about. But when the sarpint saw the nine boults upon the chest, he thought he was sould (betrayed), and was for making off with himself as fast as ever he could. "Tis a nice warm house, you see,' says St Patrick, and 'tis a good friend I am to you. I at Limerick. While a mere youth, he became conthank you kindly, St Patrick, for your civility,' says having written a tragedy, he migrated to London in nected with the Limerick Advertiser newspaper; but the sarpint; but I think it's too small it is for me'meaning it for an excuse, and away he was going. himself in literature and the drama. Disappointhis twentieth year, with the hope of distinguishing 'Too small!' says St Patrick, stop, if you please,' says he, 'you're out in that, my boy, anyhow-I am sure ment very naturally followed, and Gerald betook 'twill fit you completely; and I'll tell you what,' says himself to reporting for the daily press and contrihe, I'll bet you a gallon of porter,' says he, that if buting to the magazines. In 1825 he succeeded in you'll only try and get in, there'll be plenty of room getting an operatic melodrama brought out at the for you. The sarpint was as thirsty as could be with English Opera House; and in 1827 appeared his his walk; and 'twas great joy to him the thoughts of Holland-Tide, or Munster Popular Tales, a series of doing St Patrick out of the gallon of porter; so, swell-short stories, thoroughly Irish, and evincing powers ing himself up as big as he could, in he got to the chest, all but a little bit of his tail. There, now,' says he, I've won the gallon, for you see the house is too small for me, for I can't get in my tail.' When what does St Patrick do, but he comes behind the great heavy lid of the chest, and, putting his two hands to it, down he slaps it with a bang like thunder. When the rogue of a sarpint saw the lid coming down, in went his tail like a shot, for fear of being whipped off him, and St Patrick began at once to boult the nine iron boults. 'Oh, murder! wont you let me out, St Patrick?' says the sarpint; I've lost the bet fairly, and I'll pay you the gallon like a man.' out, my darling,' says St Patrick, to be sure I will, by all manner of means; but you see I haven't time now, so you must wait till to-morrow.' And so he took the iron chest, with the sarpint in it, and pitches it into the lake here, where it is to this hour for certain; and 'tis the sarpint struggling down at the bottom that makes the waves upon it. Many is the living man (continued Picket) besides myself has heard the sarpint crying out from within the chest under the water Is it to-morrow yet?-is it to-morrow yet? 6 The of observation and description from which much might be anticipated. This fortunate beginning was followed up the same year by Tales of the Munster Festivals, containing Card-Drawing, the Half-Sir, and Suil Dhuv the Coiner, three volumes. nationality of these tales, and the talent of the author in depicting the mingled levity and pathos of the Irish character, rendered them exceedingly popular. His reputation was still further increased by the publication, in 1829, of The Collegians; a Second Series of Tales of the Munster Festivals, three volumes, which proved to be the most popular of all Let you his works, and was thought by many to place Griffin as an Irish novelist above Banim and Carleton. Some of the scenes possess a deep and melancholy interest; for, in awakening terror, and painting the sterner passions and their results, Griffin displayed the art and power of a master. The Collegians,' says a writer in the Edinburgh Review, is a very interesting and well-constructed tale, full of incident and passion. It is a history of the clandestine union of a young man of good birth and fortune with a girl of far inferior rank, and of the consequences |