the tear to be a spirit. And I said to Uriel, "Do all tears find their way to Heaven?" But he answered, " Nay-none but those of compassion. All other tears perish, as a drop of water, when they are shed: but those of pity come hither, and, after sojourning for a season at the gate of Heaven, lo! some of them are changed into jewels, and hang upon the crowns of the archangels; others are mingled with the fountain of benevolence, and they all plead with seraphic tongues for those that shed them." And I knew from this response of the angel that there were no tears like those of compassion. MR. GALT'S FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH LORD BYRON. Ir was at Gibraltar that I first fell in with Lord Byron. I had arrived there in the packet from England, in indifferent health, on my way to Sicily. I had then no intention of traveling; I only went a trip, intending to return home after spending a few weeks in Malta, Sicily, and Sardinia; having, before my departure, entered into the society of Lincoln's Inn, with the design of studying the law. At this time my friend, the late Colonel Wright, of the artillery, was secretary to the governor; and, during the short stay of the packet at the rock, he invited me to the hospitalities of his house, and among other civilities gave me admission to the garrison library. The day, I well remember, was exceedingly sultry. The air was sickly; and if the wind was not a sirocco, it was a withering levanter -oppressive to the functions of life, and to an invalid denying all exercise. Instead of rambling over the fortifications, I was, in consequence, constrained to spend the hottest part of the day in the library; and while sitting there, a young man came in and seated himself opposite to me at the table where I was reading. Something in his appearance attracted my attention, His dress indicated a Londoner of some fashion, partly by its neatness and simplicity, with just so much of a peculiarity of style as served to show, that although he belonged to the order of metropolitan beaux, he was not altogether a common one. I thought his face not unknown to me; I began to conjecture where I could have seen him; and, after an unobserved scrutiny, to speculate both as to his character and vocation. His physiognomy was prepossessing and intelligent; but ever and anon his brows lowered and gathered-a habit, as I then thought, with a degree of affectation in it, probably first assumed for picturesque effect and energetic expression; but which I afterwards discovered was undoubtedly the occasional scowl of some unpleasant reminiscence: it was certainly disagreeable-forbidding; but still the general cast of his features was impressed with elegance and character. At dinner, a large party assembled at Colonel Wright's; among others the Countess of Westmoreland, with Tom Sheridan and his beautiful wife; and it happened that Sheridan, in relating the local news of the morning, mentioned that Lord Byron and Mr. Hobhouse had come in from Spain, and were to proceed up the Mediterranean in the packet. He was not acquainted with either. On the following evening I embarked early, and soon after the two travellers came on board; in one of whom I recognised the visiter to the library, and he proved to be Lord Byron. In the little bustle and process of embarking their luggage, his lordship affected, as it seemed to me, more aristocracy than befitted his years or the occasion; -and I then thought of his singular scowl, and suspected him of pride and irascibility. The impression that evening was not agreeable, but it was interesting; and that forehead mark, the frown, was calculated to awaken curiosity, and beget conjectures. * * * Our passage to Sardinia was tardy, owing to calms; but, in other respects, pleasant. About the third day Byron relented from his rapt mood, as if he felt it was out of place, and became playful, and disposed to contribute his fair proportion to wile away the tediousness of the dull voyage. Among other expedients for that purpose, we had recourse to shooting at bottles. Byron, I think, supplied the pistols, and was the best shot, but not very preeminently so. In the calms, the jollyboat was several times lowered; and, on one of those occasions, his lordship, with the captain, caught a turtle-I rather think two; we likewise hooked a shark, part of which was dressed for breakfast, and tasted, without relish; your shark is but a cannibal dainty. * * ** Had we parted at Cagliari, it is probable that I should have retained a much more favorable recollection of Mr. Hobhouse than of Lord Byron; for he was a cheerful companion, full of odd and droll stories,which he told extremely well; he was also good humored and intelligent altogether an advantageous specimen of a well-educated English gentleman. Moreover, I was at the time afflicted with a nervous dejection, which the occasional exhiliration produced by his anecdotes and college tales often materially dissipated though, for the most past, they were more after the manner and matter of Swift than of AdCison. knowledge of the world by always dining so sparely. If my remembrance is not treacherous, he only spent one evening in the cabin with us-the evening before we came to anchor at Cagliari; for, when the lights were placed, he made himself a man forbid; took his station on the railing between the pegs on which the sheets are belayed and the shrouds, and there, for hours, sat in silence, enamored, it may be, of the moon. All these peculiarities, with his caprices, and something inexplicable in the cast of his metaphysics, while they served to awaken interest, contributed little to conciliate esteem. He was often strangely rapt-it may have been from his genius; and, had its grandeur and darkness been then divulged, susceptible of explanation; but, at the time, it threw, as it were, around him the sackcloth of peritence. Sitting amidst the shrouds and rattlings, in the tranquillity of the moonlight, churming an inarticulate melody, he seemed almost apparitional, suggesting dim reminiscences of him who shot the albatros. He was a mystery in a winding-sheet crowned with a halo. The influence of the incomprehensible phantasma which hovered about Lord Byron, has been more or less felt by all who ever approached him. That he sometimes came out of the cloud, and was familiar and earthly, is true; but his dwelling was amidst the murk and the mist, and the home of his spirit in the abysm of the storm, and the hidingplaces of guilt. He was, at the time of which I am speaking, scarcely two-and-twenty, and could claim no higher praise than having written a clever worldly-minded satire; Byron was, during the passage, and yet it was impossible, even then, in delicate health, and upon an ab- to reflect on the bias of his mind, as stemious regimen. He rarely tasted it was revealed by the casualties of wine, nor more than half a glass, conversation, without experiencing mingled with water, when he did. a presentiment that he was destined He ate little; no animal food, but to execute some singular and omionly bread and vegetables. He nous purpose. The description he reminded me of the goul that picked has given of Manfred in his youth, rice with a needle; for it was ma- was of himself. nifest, that he had not acquired his AN IRISH LAWSUIT. THE bone of contintion that got between them and our faction was this circumstance: their lands and ours were divided by a river that ran down from the high mountains of Slieve Boglish, and, after a coorse of eight or ten miles, disembogued itself, first into George Duffy's mill-dam, and afterwards into that superb stream, the Blackwater, that might be well and appropriately appellated "the Irish Niger." This river, which, though small at times, occasionally inflated itself to such gigantic altitude, that it swept away cows, corn, and cottages, or whatever else happened to be in its way -was the march-ditch, or merin, between our farms. Perhaps it is worth while remarking, as a solution for natural philosophers, that these inundations were much more frequent in winter than in summer, though when they did occur in summer, they were truly terrific. God be with the days when I and half a dozen gorsoons used to go out, of a warm Sunday in summer; the bed of the river nothing but a line of white meandering stones, so hot that you could hardly stand upon them, with a small obscure thread of water creeping invisibly among them, hiding itself, as it were, from the scorching sun; except here and there that you might find a small pool where the streams had accumulated. Our plan was to bring a pocket full of roche lime with us, and put it into the pool, when all the fish used to rise on the instant to the surface, gasping with open mouths for fresh air, and we'd only to lift them out of the water: a nate plan, which, perhaps, might be adopted successfully on a more extensive scale by the Irish fisheries. Indeed, I almost regret that I did not remain in that station of life, for I was much happier then than ever I was since I began to study and practise larning. But this is vagating from the subject. Well, then, I have said that them O'Hallaghans lived beside us, and that this stream divided our lands. About half a quarter, i. e. to accommodate myself to the vulgar phraseology, or, to speak more scientifically, one eighth of a mile from our house, was as purty a hazel glen as you'd wish to see; near half a mile long; its developements and proportions were truly clas sical. In the bottom of this glen was a small green island, about twelve yards, diametrically, of Irish admeasurement, that is to say, be the same more or less; at all events, it lay in the way of the river, which, however, ran towards the O'Hallaghan's side, and, consequently, the island was our property. Now, you'll observe, that this river had been, for ages, the merin between the two farms, for they both belonged to separate landlords, and, so long as it kept the O'Hallaghan side of the little peninsula in question, there could be no dispute about it, for all was clear. One wet winter, however, it seemed to change its mind upon the subject, for, assuredly, it wrought and wore away a passage for itself on our side of the island, and, by that means, took part, as it were, with the O'Hallaghans, leaving the territory which had been our property for centuries, in their possession. This was a vexatious change to us, and, indeed, eventually produced very feudal consequences. No sooner had the stream changed sides than the O'Hallaghans claimed the island as theirs, according to their tenement; and we, having had it for such length of time in our possession, could not break ourselves of the habitude of occupying it. They incarcerated our cattle, and we incarcerated theirs. They summoned us to their landlord, who was a magistrate, and we summoned them to ours, who was another. Their verdicts were north and south, their landlord gave it in favor of them, and ours in favor of us. The one said he had law on his side, the other that he had prescription and possession, length of time and usage. The two squires then fought a challenge upon the head of it, and, what was more singular, upon the disputed spot itself; the one standing on their side, the other on ours; for it was just twelve paces every way. Their friend was a small, light man, with legs like drumsticks; the other was a large, able-bodied gentleman, with a red face and a hooked nose. They exchanged shots, one only of whichthe second-took effect. It pastured upon their landlord's spindle leg; on which he held it out, exclaiming that while he lived he'd never fight another challenge with his antagonist, "because," said he, "the man who could hit that could hit anything." We then were advised, by an attorney, to go to law with them; and they were advised by another attorney to go to law with us; accordingly we did so, and, in the course of eight or nine years, it might have been decided; but just as the legal term approximated, in which the decision was to be announced, the river divided itself with mathematical exactitude, on each side of the island. This altered the state and law of the question in totum; but, in the meantime, both we and the O'Hallaghans were nearly fractured by the expenses. Now, during the lawsuit, we usually houghed and mutilated each other's cattle, according as they trespassed the premises. This brought on the usual concomitants of various battles, fought and won on both sides, and occasioned the lawsuit to be dropped; for we found it a mighty inconvenient matter to fight it out both ways. We, however, paid the most of the expenses, and would have ped them all with the greatest integrity, were it not that our attor 33 ATHENEUM, VOL. 5, 3d series. ney, when about to issue an execution against our property, happened to be shot one evening as he returned home from a dinner, which was given by him that was attorney for the O'Hallaghans. Many a boast the O'Hallaghans made, before the quarreling between us and them commenced, that they'd sweep the streets with them fighting O'Callaghans, which was an epithet that was occasionally applied to our family. We differed, however, materially from them; for we were honorable, never starting out in dozens on a single man or two, and beating him into insignificance. A couple, or may be when irritated, three, were the most we ever set at a single enemy; and if we left him lying in a state of imperception, it was the most we ever did, except in a regular confliction, when a man is justified in saving his own skull by breaking one of an opposite faction. For the truth of the business is, that he who breaks the first skull or the first bone, is safest ; and surely when a man is driven to such an alternative, the choice is unhesitating. O'Hallaghans' attorney, however, had better luck; they were, it is true, rather in the retrograde with him, and of coorse it was only candid in him to look for his own. One morning he found that two of his horses had been executed by some incendiary unknown, in the course of the night, and on going to look at them, he found a taste of a notice posted on the inside of the stable-door, giving him intelligence that if he did not find a horpus corpus whereby to transfer his body out of the country, he'd experience a fate parallel to that of his brother lawyer. After this he went to reside in Dublin, and the only bodily injury he sustained was the death of a land-agent and a bailiff, who lost their lives faithfully in driving for rent. LEARNING, RELIGION, AND POETRY. THE examples of Virgil, of Tasso, and of Milton, sufficiently demonstrate the advantages of the connexion between learning and poetry; but of all poetry, to religious poetry is learning most necessary. A criticaster may probably think that it presents only fatal facilities. A certain class of religious poetry may possess such facilities, which are fatal enough, both to the author and reader. The class to which they appertain is that to which learning is not necessary, that which claims uneducated originality, and inspiration, though maudlin, which is underived. It is that class of pseudopoetry which is produced by ignorance, addressed to ignorance, and applauded by ignorance. Poetry originating in a state of factitious enthusiasm, or in a spirit of interested hypocrisy, and sectarian cant. In fine, such poetry as The Omnipresence of the Deity contains-a work composed wholly of centos from evangelical writers, and the ravings of religious bedlamites, unrelieved by the least suggestion of philosophy, and unredeemed by any manifestation of piety or truth. Such is the religious poetry which presents the tempting facilities so strongly urged. And such as the poetry, such is the religion of which it is the expression. The sects that affect this style of sentimental devotion, despise learning in their spiritual teachers, and prefer the unintelligible ravings of ignorant enthusiasm. With such the profoundest ignorance is the mother of the truest devotion. This is a very common idea with those who have never felt the influence, nor attained that perfection of which the human understanding is rendered capable by education. Religion, they think, is entirely independent of any acquirements of science, and incapable of receiving either elucidation or aggrandisement from any of its speculative refinements. But it can be shown, that religion is likely to be more approved, where its truth and nature are more sensibly perceived; and better practised, where knowledge has inculcated a stronger conviction of its importance. From the long period which has elapsed since the first development of revealed religion to the world, the astonishing and lamentable revolutions which have taken place in the human mind; from its progressive decay, with the downfall of civil and intellectual liberty; its final subjugation and debasement under the despotism of papal ignorance and superstition; until the almost extinguished spark was fanned into a flame by the revival of literature, and gradually restored to its pristine brightness by a release from spiritual thraldom :-Religion, as it were, regenerated and propagated anew, stands in need of some proofs, if not of its indentity and truth, at least of its purity and perfection; and must, therefore, present itself to the consideration of its professors in the present day, more particularly under a philosophical aspect. It is the business of philosophy to discover and authenticate the important truths of religion. To the attainment of this philosophy, learning is absolutely indispensable. Without learning, the religious man cannot satisfy himself concerning the sacred oracle, which he is to regard as the confirmer of his hopes, the certain guide in that narrow way which shall lead him to happiness. Without learning, he cannot collect and examine the external evidences of its authenticity. Without learning, he cannot explore and discover the internal marks of sacred truth. And when, with the most patient and persevering labor, the inquirer shall have traced this religion through its promulgation, its dispersion, its persecutions, its debasement and decline, its night, its dawning, until it again reached the splendor of noonday; when, in conjunction with these events, he shall have observ |