time, that women were singing, and at the same time peculiarly soft, with none of that shrillness which is apt to be the fault in a woman's voice. The man's voice was a perfect organ. Amid the deepest notes of the organ, I heard it as distinctly as the diapason itself. The greatest ease characterized the whole performance, as it always does the highest music. The sermon was very well; the reading execrably bad. The prayers were sung forth in a kind of recitative tone peculiar to the cathedral worship of the church of England; for it falls short in the tone of song of that which is used in the Jewish and Romish rituals. The service held as it was in this ancient building, beneath high Gothic arches, surrounded by ancient marble tombs and statues, by galleries of every fashion, and carved work curious and antique, with banners over head, and helmets and swords hung on the walls-the service, I say, in such circumstances, seemed as if it ought to be held by no common people-but by the high born and high bred-by renowned knights, or heroes going forth to battle for their country.

After attending upon the service at the Cathedral, I passed the evening with Mrs. Hemans. The conversation naturally turned upon the scene I had just left, and her part in it was sustained with

the utmost poetical enthusiasm. She spoke various accompaniments of the service, and she came to the banners, she said, "they s to wave as the music of the anthem rose lofty arches." I ventured here to throw in dash of prose-saying that I was afraid tha did not wave; that I wished they might, and up to see if they did, but could not see it. she replied with vivacity, "wave is not the w but they thrilled-I am sure of that." And t is very likely, something short of " the vision d might see. Such vision, however, this lad doubtedly possesses. She has the genuine af and those who think its breathings too mea and monotonous, do not consider or read her ry in the right way. There is nothing dra or epic in her best poetry; it is essentially ly And those who attempt to read it by the vo as much mistake, as if they should undertal read a book of hymns, or the Psalms of Day that way. In her own chosen walk, Mrs. He has few competitors in Britain, and no equal; so long as solemn cathedrals, and ancestral and lowly homes remain in England, her will not die away.

JULY 8. I have experienced to-day my travellers' vexation. I had fallen in with a co

of travellers in Wales, and we had agreed to go in company to the Giants' Causeway. We had taken our passage to Belfast, for this morning, and when the coach drove up to the door of our hotel, it was so overloaded that we would not go in it. It was amusing to see the national characteristics of my companions on this occasion. The Englishman was all pride, and wrath, and decision. "I will not go in this coach!" was his reply to the apologetic coachman-" and I will be sent on! or I will apply to a magistrate and see if there is any law in Ireland." The Frenchman appeared not a little like a subject under a galvanic battery; he shook his fist, and his elbows twitched, and he stammered and stuttered-saying I know not what-for I was too much amused with the muscular contractions, to take notice of anything else. The American— videlicit myself was very calm on the occasion, and this calmness is said to be our national trait of manner. I understand this last observation, however, to apply only to the case of an affray or dispute.

TO BELFAST, JULY 9. The most remarkable town on this route is Drogheda, with a population of 25,000, and yet looking like a population of mendicants; scarcely a well-dressed man or woman in the thronged streets; but decrepitude, disease,

beggary, rags, presenting themselves every in frightful masses. It is almost entirely a mud-walled cottages, and thatched roofs; a together a spectacle, so entirely unlike anyt ever witnessed before, or shall probably eve ness again, that I would not have failed to and see it. Drogheda is a walled town, sta on the river Boyne, and known in history a rendering to William III. after the battle of B The battle was fought near this town; an ob which we saw at a distance, marks the William's conquest is celebrated on the twel this month, by processions of the Protestants, w being held in dislike by the Catholics, often sion quarrels-on which account, troops are at time ordered into the north, and we passed a ment of them to-day. Indeed, these "grieva red-dressed" of Ireland appear everywhere i the cities and villages.

We have passed hundreds of Irish cottages day; but what pen shall describe them, that not literally bespatter the page with mire and d mud and thatch, with little light-nasty as styes-ragged women and children about the de and often the men lying down by their hovels laziness, filth, and rags-a horribly vile pud

always before the door, for the accommodation of the most horribly filthy animals-said animals, in the mean time, equally and worthily occupying the domicil with the human beings who inhabit it. And to complete the picture of general misery, women beggars surrounded us every time we stopped, with children in their arms, imploring charity. From the numbers of children, indeed, it would seem as if this were the most prolific country under heaven. But it may be, because none of them go to school, and all live out of doors.

The latter part of the ride, through Newry, Hillsborough, and Lisburn, has been through a beautiful and rich country, and has been, indeed, such a redeeming scene for my general impressions of Ireland, that I am most glad to have passed through it.

We have passed a number of large peat bogs. They are evidently the beds of decayed forests; for trees are constantly dug out of them. Do I remember to have read, or have I heard, that some king of England, perhaps Richard II., finding that the forests of Ireland rendered it difficult of conquest, gave to his English subjects, who would come over and settle in Ireland, as much land as