PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF TERENCE O'RUARK, A.M.-NO. VI. THE SECOND MEETING AT EXETER HALL-THE ELECTION SERMON IN CARLOW-THE FLYING SHIPTHE QUARTER'S REVENUE-A FACT AND A RUMOUR. THE SECOND MEETING AT EXETER HALL. I NEVER witnessed any thing more calculated, in my opinion, to make a deep and solemn impression upon a mind capable of receiving such impressions than was this meeting at Exeter Hall. It was peculiar in its kind, too; it was a chapter full of vivid solemnities, in the midst of the busy and bustling work of London life. The metropolis, its business, and its pleasures, were before your eyes; you turned over a leaf, and found your soul absorbed in solemn contemplation, or borne away into the loftiest flights of thought by the magical power of earnestness and eloquence. We have all heard of the striking effect of great assemblies in the open air; perhaps in some remote place where the people have gathered together for worship, or for the solemnization of some religious rite. We can without difficulty conceive the sentiment of awe which may be inspired by the sight of a vast multitude assembled for so grave a purpose, with nothing but the bare heavens above their heads, and with the everlasting hills for their silent witnesses. But here, the awfulness, though to my apprehension scarcely less striking, was wholly wanting in that deep sublimity of quiet which subdues, while it expands the soul, and gradually brings the mind into harmony with that which it contemplates. In lieu of this there was the suddenness of transition, and the force of contrast. I left the crowded noisy thoroughfares of the Strand, with its incessant current of busy life; the continual rush to and fro of persons intent on the world's business or its pleasures; I left the clatter of footsteps and the rattle of wheels; the gaudy shops, the hurrying messengers, and all the pride, pomp, and circumstance of the week-day world in London, and in one minute I beheld a vast assembly of from three to four thousand people, before whom stood a man speaking as one rapt and inspired by the deep interest of the theme on which he discussed. This was the Rev. Mr. M'Ghee, whose enthusiasm appeared to kindle all who heard him into bursts of applauding sympathy, or of fierce and irrepressible hostility. One might perceive the spirit of the multitude heaving like the moved waters before they break into waves it was obvious that all were filled with deep emotion, and that near as they were to the hurrying crowd of one of London's busiest scenes, their hearts and minds were for the time uplifted from all these things, and intent upon the considerations which the orator brought before them. I had never heard Mr. M'Ghee before, and undoubtedly the impression he made upon me as an earnest and most effective speaker, was very great. His use of the quotation from St. Paul, in the beginning, was particularly fine and striking in its manner. We have, he said, been called by our accusers "Fanatics," but we trust to show you this day, that "we are not mad, but speak forth the words of truth and soberness." And again, after tracing the Roman Catholic tenets, disavowed by Doctor Murray, through councils, canons, bulls, and so forth, he came at last to the oath which the Most Rev. Doctor refers to; nothing could be more effective than the pause of the orator at that point. We have traced these doctrines, said he, " through bulls, councils, evidences, facts, testimonies, and from all these he escapes to that last tremendous refuge, the oath which he has taken, and shall we pursue him there? No; there we shall leave him to the mercy of his God!” Mr. M'Ghee spoke as one borne, swept along by his subject. Mr. Mortimer O'Sullivan, who succeeded him, exhibited more of the grace, the selfcommanding deliberateness, and the skilful reasoning of one who held his own mind in calm command of his subject. Mr. M'Ghee's speech was excellent; Mr. O'Sullivan's admirable. In the early part of it, when establishing by argument as ingenious as it was conclusive, that the proposition of a regular series of questions for confe rence from the book of Dens, included necessarily an adoption of the answers which intervened between these questions, and led from one to the other, I heard some persons, with an exceedingly Maynootish cast of countenance, exclaim," Oh! this is too logical much too logical;" and yet this gentleman, who is subjected to the vivâ voce objection of being" much too logical," is the very same who is assailed in print as a "frothy declaimer," a "spouter of bombast!" The critics of Mr. O'Sullivan seem determined, that if their objections do not stick, it shall not be for want of trying a sufficient variety. Having to go elsewhere before the meeting concluded, I unfortunately did not hear Mr. Daly; and as my present object is not criticism, but description, I must leave to abler hands the notice of his published speech. As to the interruptions which the speakers received, they were of the most fierce, obstinate, and outrageous description, and sometimes all but terrific in their aspect. The commotion, the stormy disturbance and strife of tongues, in so great an assemblage, while excitement renders them wholly ungovernable, are startling while they last. In one or two instances nothing but main force would compel the retirement of intruders, who must have known that they violated the conditions upon which they had obtained admissions. But this is the ordinary discretion which accompanies the zeal of the partizans of Irish priests. THE ELECTION SERMON IN CARLOW. The Rev. Father Walsh's hortatory address from the altar during the Carlow election, which the London papers have ventured to call " atrocious," is, I find, the subject of much applause among my neighbours in the penetralia of St. Giles's. When taken with a due accompaniment of gin, it is surprising what an effect it has upon them. Their constitutional liveliness is increased to such a degree, that broken heads and charges at the "station house," (watch-houses are now obsolete,) increase ten per cent. per noctem. Father Walsh, they maintain, is "the broth of a boy," and I think I could venture to promise him, upon the strength of his popularity in these parts, gin and potatoes, gratis, for a month. He should take his chance, however, of a broken head, as that is part of the regular amusement, like cards at Crockford's, and far more lively to such as like the sport. As the Rev. Gentleman appears to have a taste for blood, I have no doubt that this diversion of my neighbours would not be very uncongenial to his taste. There are many sober English, however, who have read this speech in the newspapers, and who are so squeamish as to be absolutely horrified, that a man calling himself a clergyman, should utter such abominable things from the place where he ought to preach peace; my compatriots in St. Giles's laugh at this. They chuckle over this mild priest's statement to his "good people," that the Orange Conservative landlords are "most anxious to wallow up to their necks in human blood"-in the blood of the congregation he addressed-to bring back the rebellion of 1798, and to bring the daughters of the people to prostitution, and their sons to beggary. "He must be a powerful priest entirely," they say, "that is able to spake that way," and so the calculating English think too; but they happen to have no particular fancy for entrusting themselves, or their money, where such an orator as this is powerful, and Ireland has no chance of benefitting by English capital and English habits of business, while the Father Walshes are permitted to go on in this fashion. But Irish patriotism is apt to be above attending to such matter-of-fact consequences as the frightening away of English capital and industry. THE FLYING SHIP. Here are we in this era of the march of intellect, and the flight of enterprise, busying ourselves with a no less wonderful project than that of flying through the air from one capital of Europe to another. The plan, it must be confessed, or rather the principal idea of travelling, "like a bird," as Sir Boyle Roach said, is not absolutely new. In those authentic histories, which are admitted to present as interesting records of human invention as any extant, I mean the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, and Don Quixotte, we have accounts of ærostatic experiments of a most pleasing description, and though in the latter work the events stated, are rather as it were the account of a dream, than of an actual and bodily progress toward the stars, yet the particulars which are set forth with so much ability, display a learned spirit of flightiness which cannot but be of use to modern experimentalists. It is to be remarked that none but people of soaring ideas undertake such projects as these, and the present one, wherewith the Londoners are now concerned, is under the guardianship of the Count Lennox; it is under his guidance also, while it remains upon the ground, and his Majesty's lieges are permitted to form their judgment upon it by actual inspection, if they choose to pay for the same. The thing is a huge cylinder, made of airtight cotton cloth, 160 feet long, and 60 feet in diameter. It is brought to a point at either end, and if an Irishman can suppose one of his own round towers, considerably exaggerated, (an easy thing to an Irishman,) with a point supplied at the base like that at the top, and lying along the ground instead of standing virtually upon it, he will have a notion of the shape of this huge flying ship. It is provided with a net-work under its belly, in which the crew, passengers, and luggage, are to be stowed away, while it pursues its voyage, point foremost, through the air. The philosophy of the inventor, in which he shows his enlightened sympathy with "the spirit of the age," lies in this, that he promises himself success by yielding to circumstances as they occur. After he mounts into the air, the wind may become contrary; will he then "tack" or "lie to ?" No; he will not practise such evasion, or repose in such obstinacy. He is a polite gentleman, and will hold a parley with the winds; ærial though he be, he has no notion of carrying things by storm. He is fortis in re, suavis in modo. If, says he, the current of air we find ourselves in prove unaccommodating, we shall try another. We shall not find them all equally inimical to our interesting undertaking. We have machinery by which we can elevate our ship or depress it, and if some lines of space take airs upon themselves which are unpleasant, we shall resort to others! The thought is a good one, and one sees at a glance how prudently the inventor has taken advantage of political analogies. The Whig cabinet, for instance, is just such a flying ship as that of Count Lennox. It adapts itself to circumstances. If in the upper or aristocratic region of political society, it cannot get on, it descends to the middle classes; if they become obstinate, down they go to the level of the mob, and if the mob becomes sulky, and will not drive it along, up it flies again, even above the region of aristocratic influence, and trusts to the atmosphere of infallibilities created by popes and councils. It throws its old pilots overboard, and calls in the assistance of such navigators as Peter Dens and Daniel O'Connell. Thus it is, that like the ærial ship, the cabinet gets on, having no predetermined way of its own, but willing to sink or rise to any current that will carry it by quarter-day, to the place where government salaries are paid. THE QUARTER'S REVENUE. The transition is natural from quarter-day to some mention of the revenue accounts which were published a few days ago. The receipt for the quarter from the 5th of April to the 5th of July, was 10,441,0281., which is 654,9061. less than was gathered into his Majesty's coffers during the same period of last year. The receipt for the year ending 5th July, appears to have been 41,435,8871., which is 1,813,6071. less than was received in the year ending the 5th of July, 1834. Oh, what a falling off is there, my countrymen ! Nevertheless, the receipt has been less in former years. In the time of the Virgin Queen, and Patroness, by anticipation, of the Dublin University Magazine, the revenue was half a million. In the time of the great and good King William, who saved us (then) from popery, slavery, brass money and wooden shoes, it was 3,895,2251. During the Georges it went up from 6,762,000l. in the beginning of the reign of the first to 71,000,000l. towards the end of the third. It was upwards of 50,000,0001. when George the Fourth died, and now, so thrifty have we become, that we can make shift with less than fortytwo millions per annum. I dont like this scrimping. I am Irish, and though hating all that is called "liberal" in politics, I profess myself an advocate of liberal expenditure. But Mr. Hume and his sort say, "I wish you may get it," and point to the revenue re turn I have just quoted. I care not a pinch of snuff for Mr. Hume, when I am Chancellor of the Exchequer, I shall undertake to raise the money. By the way, it is a very curious novelty to see, as we do at present, an Irishman in the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer. It is very rarely that our genius leads us to that goal. What ever may be our national reputation for skill in the art of spending money, the capacity for keeping a correct account of incomings and outgoings, has not been attributed to us, either by those who laud, or those who libel us. I suspect that the science of arithmetic is not favoured by the Hibernian climate. Mathematics flourish in Munster, but there is something grand in these abstract quantities. Figures bearing a direct relation to pounds, shillings, and pence, are mnemonical characters, which we Irish look upon with distaste. In the general administration of affairs we have a reasonable share, particularly if a little talk be necessary, but I own that I cannot recollect an instance before Spring Rice, of a Chancellorship of the Exchequer falling to the lot of an IrishPoor Canning can hardly be man. said to be another instance, for his share of Irishry (save in feeling) was but small, and his exchequer career was a very short, and in every way a melancholy one. I do not know how Mr. Rice fell upon the office, except it be that old Cambridge habits clung to him. They say he is an adroit person, and I believe it; but why does he not bring forward his budget? Has he been all this time preparing a speech sufficiently great to surpass his illustrious predecessor, the brilliant Lord Althorp? Is Rice afraid of following in the hoof-prints of that ox? It is to be hoped not; but if he do not bestir himself with his budget, he will bring the unwonted reproach of sluggishness upon his father's son. He should look to himself and to his country. A FACT AND A RUMOR. There is beautiful weather, and every one says, the poor O'Connell-bestridden Whigs are all at sixes and sevens, and must be turned adrift, or turn themselves adrift in two or three weeks. Hurrah! God save the King! St. Giles, London, July 16. CHRISTIANITY AND ITS EVIDENCES. IF the truth of any system may be fairly inferred from the abortive efforts of its opponents, and the promptitude with which, on every occasion, their attacks have been silenced, the religion we profess has little cause for apprehension. The struggle has been long protracted; but it is now no longer a struggle. And how deeply interesting has that contest been-how interesting still, even in its expiring efforts! We have seen, for the last two centuries, in that magnificent intellectual tournay, the whole force of the human mind concentrated in rival prowess, upon the tremendous question of its highest interests; we have seen the whole strength of genius exerted, not as once upon the trifling disquisitions of a minute and technical philosophy, but upon a solid and mighty argument, upon a discussion before which the boasted achievements of human science vanish like a dream of the morning, and compared to which the fortunes of empires are but the news of a day. For our part, we have looked with spell-bound attention upon that momentous conflict. And from the midst of our politics and our poetry, our reasonings and our romancings, we are free to confess that we feel it a noble and a happy duty, to turn occasionally to the great subject beside which the most felicitous efforts of human intellect are trifles, and we can Deism compared with Christianity, in an Epistolary Correspondence between a Deist and a Christian. By Edward Chichester, M. A. Rector of Kilmore, in the diocese of Armagh. In 3 volumes, London, Rivingtons. say with as unaffected a fervour as the poet himself who uttered the exclamation —“ God forefend that on the lightest strain My fancy ever moulded, I should shame To stamp the signet of the Cross." But, we repeat, it is not fair to call this question any longer a controversy. Unbelievers themselves must allow that they have not achieved the victory, however loth to confess that they have suffered defeat. We cannot remember one argument which has not been answered, one sophism which has not been detected, one mis-statement which has not been rectified, one disingenuity which has not been exposed. In the face of the whole civilized world, on the arena of impartial reason, with the weapons of unassisted argument, the battle has been fought and decided. Everything has been proved which required proof, everything has been explained but that which to human nature must for ever remain inexplicable. And of the man who at this time of day persists in infidelity, we can only say that he labours under a delusion similar to that which he falsely ascribes to the Christian; he must depend for his conviction on some internal illumination, for assuredly he can display no evidence cognizable by any mind but his own, in support of the miserable faith that is in him. This is a proud triumph for our religion. There was a time when the knowledge of speculative theology was the exclusive possession of the sacerdotal order; and it was the worst age Christianity ever knew. If, at such a time, from among the mass of the people, a mind of superior powers arose, and, prompted by a just curiosity, demanded to examine the foundations of the public belief, we know how the rational request was met with jealousy and suspicion; and how the energies of the inquiring spirit were crushed and paralyzed under the terrors of temporal and eternal punishment. The monstrous dogma was propounded that Doubt was itself sin; and all reasoning was, of course, prohibited, when the uncertainty which reasoning presupposed was stigmatized as a crime against the unquestioned majesty of the faith. If there was little infidelity, a blind superstition perverted the truth almost as effectively; and that Christianity which to be adopted needs but to be fairly known, and which demands to be adopted on no other ground, was condemned to skulk in the darkness of a Buddhist or Brahmin imposture, and to debase its proud claims by resting on the ignorance or apathy of its votaries. A sight at which angels might weep-a sight at which men should do more than weep! Ill and fruitlessly have we read the past, if we have not known that in it we behold the mirror of the future. Vainly have we cherished a just resentment against the atrocities of an Innocent or a Gregory, if we fail to perceive that every engine which they wielded, is at this day to be found, neither loosened in its fastenings, nor lax in its springs, in the spiritual armoury of that church which still masters the secrets of one world in her Confessional, and still hurls the thunders of the other from her Altar. "But we have no fear of these things," cry those consistent reasoners who deem it liberality to uphold the cause of a creed whose essential dogma is intolerance,-" Romanism is no longer Popery, the bulls of the Vatican (for they love a joke) are as harmless and as laughable as those of Ireland; that giant frame (for they love a daring figure) whose agitations once upheaved the whole fiery mass of turbulent and disorganized Europe from its base, now sleeps for ever beneath its extinct volcano. In short, the knowledge of our times is too universal in its diffusion, and too philosophical in its character, ever to admit of this lamentable blindness." What knowledge, and how diffused? We know, it is true, more than we did of mathematics and natural philosophy; we are better chemists and better navigators; our houses are better built, and our fields are better cultivated. We have learned not to waste our faculties in profitless researches, and the nature and powers of the mind are better estimated than in the days of old. But did we know all this trebly repeated, and were that knowledge really the heritage of every grade of society, instead of being, as it is, the exclusive property of a very small minority, still would it be true as ever, that there is, in the illusions of superstitious religion, a power to vanquish all the oppositions |