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little thing and that little thing, picking a brustna for fear he woul be starved with cold, and taking him up the potatoes, and the eggs, and the milk, which poor sinners used to bring to get his prayers."

How wistfully does the stranger in Killarney look out for the first purple streaks of morn, for the bright sunrise that banishes all his nervous terrors of a wet and cloudy day, which is here a burden heavier than he can bear! Yet how often it comes! The weather was brilliant, with a gentle breeze, when we went on the lower lake. Ireland may be called the land of lakes, which are almost everywhere peopled with islands; even in the sheets of water, not a mile in length, or a quarter in breadth, are miniature isles, more or less wooded. In its many and lovely islands is the glory of the lower lake; even the Isolabella, with its palace and gardens, in the Lake Maggiore, is not a more enchanting spot than Inisfallen, and has not the same charm of simplicity and loneliness. It is mostly wooded and covered with a rich pasture. What a contrast is this ever-teeming verdure of brilliant green-on isle, valley, and even bog-to the dry and dusty surface of so many Italian scenes! The little cliffs of the isle are covered with the arbutus, the ash, alder, holly, and aged yew: in one part is a holly, the circumference of whose stem measures fourteen feet. There are many groups of fine old oaks, and here and there little glades open to the sky, yet sheltered from the heat and blast by their screen of lofty shrubs. These beautiful glades, from which are glimpses of the mountains and forests, recall the description of the hermits, who, finding in the Thebais a little oasis, would never again quit it for the sterner world around. The monks of Inisfallen were ejected in the reign of Elizabeth from their loved seat the ruins of their abbey are still visible. From the cloister walls an aged yew shoots up. The most interesting relic is an oratory on a projecting cliff-the door-case is a Saxon arch, enriched with chevron ornaments, one side of which is quite perfect and very beautiful. This ancient oratory has been fitted up by Lord Kenmare as a banqueting-room: on one side of it is a large bay-window, from which there is a fine view.

There is an almost endless variety in the islands of this lake, from the very large one of Ross, with its ancient castle, to the little shaded or desolate places that seem to float on the wave: its peculiar charm is the home-feeling that comes over the mind--there is something so companionable and attaching in its joyous isles, in their homes and restingplaces.

It is beautiful to row beneath the woods of Glena, where the arbutus is a forest-tree, and then to enter its bay, so perfect in its softness and majesty, and even its gloom, that it seems like a thing dreamed of-a luxurious creation of the brain. The cottage ornée of Lady Kenmare is just above the shore in its suite of apartments there is an elegance and simplicity suited to the scene; the windows look on the Glena precipices and their woods directly above-on the little bay and the waters beyond.

The world does not possess a more captivating retreat so intense is its loveliness-so happy its retirement-it is difficult to fancy oneself alone in it; the voices of other days seem to come back, and friends that are afar off to gather around us, for we feel sure that they, like ourselves, would have dearly loved a scene like this. In returning to

Mucruss a long line of rocks is passed, their base hollowed into little caverns and grottoes: from their bare tops and sides, on which no soil is visible, springs a wanton foliage of shrubs and trees. The growth of these splendid shrubs, from the very rocks and stones, and desolate places of these lakes, is almost magical. The evening was without a breath of wind in the sunset, from the shore of Mucruss, there was a glory not excelled in any eastern land: on the bare crests and forests of the Glena, the Tomies and the Turk, the golden light slept heavily; the Dingle mountains afar off, like vast beacon-fires, had a fiercer glare slowly on each isle heaven painted for a while its dying hues, till the last crimson came, like life's last agony, again, again, as if never to depart.

It was dark when we reached a villa about a mile from the water, which, in the midst of its garden, on an eminence that overlooked the lakes, was a little literary refuge. To come from the silent places of Nature, from her superb wilderness, to listen to the words of a fair authoress, to her earnest pictures of "life's swift dream," and her aspirations after fame and immortality, was a sudden change. The fancy could not ask for a dearer home, on which to plume her wings for their loftiest and loveliest flights: yet the want of society, of its subtle and animating influence, was sensibly felt here. When the spell of our own thoughts is past, how welcome to turn to a kindred and favourite mind! to listen to the murmur of another fountain when our own is dry! The moon at last rose above Mangerton, and shone through the little librarywindow that looked forth on the garden, the lawn, and its fringe of wood. Why, when the scene and hour are so intense in beauty, does the memory love to flit to sad places, to the dreary shore or wilderness, full of some melancholy passage of past life? Is it that this wild contrast is ever dear to the fancy? After so much enjoyment during the day, images of desolation, sorrow, and dark excitement, now gathered like lost companions around.

The following evening was of a different character: in the long room of the cottage of Glena, kept for the use of strangers, about fifty were assembled, of various nations and ranks-the Swiss, the Greek, the Italian: beautiful women were among them, so were old and feeble men. The tour of the day was over; the spell of mountain, lake, and glen was hushed for a time: each face seemed to brighten as it looked on the faces of others, and the love of the picturesque yielded to the dearer love of the social. Never was a gayer company; both ladies and gentlemen were resolved to make others happy as well as themselves-and they did their best to accomplish so good a purpose. There was delightful music, which the echoes of Glena and the bay seemed to send sweetly back again: glees, madrigals, and French chansons were sung: a lady and her daughter sang admirably, as did a French marquis, who was so beside himself with the scenery that he could scarcely live off the lakes, and was out morning, noon, and night. Each party brought its own provisions; champagne and other good wines were not wanting; and the sun went down, and twilight stole on, and the tourists could hardly prevail on themselves to separate.

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And raved; till suddenly I found
My antidote in Mara.

Mara I swore to woo for life;

But, when she sang in Polly,
Her English, as the Robber's Wife,
Relieved me of my folly.

By Mara's pipe no longer fired,
I lived uncharm'd by any;

Till, conquer'd by the "Soldier Tired,"
In Billington's Mandane.

Destined, ere long, again to veer,

As fickle as Giovanni;

Fate to enthral me made appear

Majestic Catalani.

Forth from my pocket, her half notes,

Extracted my half guineas,

Pour'd from the first of human throats,
Till-follow'd by Grassini's.

Grassini's mournful Proserpine

Was now my heart's new pattern. Oh! how I wish'd my lot were thine, Contr'alto, son of Saturn!

Light Bolla, with her laughing eye,

Then drove me nearly crazy;

Till, soothed by the sobriety
Of quiet Camporese.

Ronzi, De Begni's better half,

Then ruled, till jocund Fodor

Came forward, with her easy laugh,

And put her out of odour.

Sontag ruled next, and ruled me long,

Fair fav'rite of Apollo;

Till Malibran, the Queen of Song,

Beat baffled Sontag hollow.

Last in the scale, "though last not least,"
To make my heart uneasy;
Prime dainty in Euterpe's feast,
Comes all-accomplish'd Grisi.
Her magic notes make sorrow flit,
And Care his wrinkles soften;
But, since the stalls have spoilt the pit,
I fail to hear them often.

The pit, of yore, the acts between,
A lounge, a quiet ramble,
Is now a bear garden-a scene

Of rude and noisy scramble.

Drawn thither from their sylvan haunt
By Orpheus-who can blame 'em?
Tigers are charm'd-I only want
The new police to tame 'em!

J. S.

ETIQUETTE.

"Par les ambles de mon mulet, respondit Rondibilis, je ne scay que je doibre respondre à ce problème."-RABELAIS.

"Le ridicule déshonore, plus que le déshonneur."-LA ROCHEFOUCAULT.

ETIQUETTE is a gallicism which has yet scarcely obtained its letters of nationalization from the dictionary compilers, though thoroughly naturalized in all spoken discourse. In its etymology, however, it is closely connected with an ancient, respectable, and (to use a fashionable epithet) celebrated English vocable,-"ticket," a word not only universally received itself, but representing that which is the means of introducing others into almost every society constructed on an exclusive principle. The nature of this verbal alliance is well illustrated by the Shakspearian phrase "We must speak by the card," which indicates that what is now called the programme of a public ceremonial, was once denominated a card, or ticket. To speak or act by the card, then, was to be guided by the printed directions laid down by the master of the ceremonies, the lord marshal, or other competent authority, on any such particular occasion in that behalf provided and prepared. Etiquette, consequently, in its modern acceptation, refers to some line of conduct which has been ticketed with the approbation of the great leaders of society.

The learned in these matters will not fail to perceive that etiquette, thus employed, has nearly lost its literal signification, and is used very much in a figurative sense; ceremonial tickets of direction not having yet found their way into private society, except in the single instance of fancy and dress balls, in which the nature of the required habiliment is so set down and specified "in the card" of invitation. The reason for this difference is obvious: the despotism of exclusive society, albeit, absolute, irresponsible, and vested in certain individuals with an authority which none presume to resist, has yet no chartularies nor constitutions to produce. It is neither rank, nor wealth, nor political

power which confers the dictatorship; there is no law, nor even custom, to back the pretension; nor is there any well defined personal characteristic which can be safely depended upon, as warranting the exercise of the powers wielded in its name. The proof of the right lies altogether in its exercise; and, as Voltaire irreverently said of the priesthood, "Notre ignorance fait toute leur science," so the setters of fashions and etiquettes may say that the general submission makes all their supremacy. In a government thus established, there can be no written law, because no one would be so rash as to bring his authority into open question by affixing his name to a code. Other associations have their "rules and regulations," because the legislators who draw them up are especially appointed ad hoc; but the legislators for etiquette have no indisputable rights, save those which are undisputed, and there must be neither hand nor seal affixed to their edicts.

In another sense, indeed, there may be still something approaching to the literal in the application of the word, inasmuch, namely, as a perfect knowledge of etiquette is a real shiboleth, or ticket of admission, into good society. The code of etiquette, like the unwritten common law of the land, is cognizable only through practice; and they who are not born and brought up within the sphere of its activity, have but a small chance of mastering all its details. Accordingly, a breach of etiquette, however trifling, is universally held to be the best evidence that the offender is not 66 one of us," but has surreptitiously crept into the enchanted circle, and is a proper subject for social ostracism; and it is on this account, that to eat peas with a knife, very justly shuts the doors of the polite more absolutely against the criminal, than a faux pas at Crockford's or a verdict for crim. con. in the Court of Queen's Bench.

In this dispensation there is nothing injurious to the parties for whose use the code of etiquettes is promulgated; on the contrary, it has this positive and specific advantage, that it forms an effectual circumvallation, defending them from the encroachments of false and unfounded pretension. No art nor artifice could keep at arm's length the would-be exclusives, if, by conning a written code, they could acquire a due knowledge of the infinite vitanda faciendaque which constitute a polite carriage; but that, as we have said, can only be done by those who have served a regular apprenticeship to the business; and the mark of the beast is conspicuous on the foreheads of all not so circumstanced; so that, like vice, to be hated, they need but to be seen.

From a consideration of these preliminaries, as applicable to the love of aristocracy innate in the lower classes of Englishmen, and to the number of upstarts which are brought into the field to fight for a good place in society, it will not surprise our readers that a book upon etiquettes, recently published, should have run through seventeen editions, or have been received as a perfect code by all who know nothing of what good society really says or does. Upon this point, conscience maintains its rights in all their vigour; and the first thing that strikes an aspiring candidate for "the genteel thing," is a deep conviction of his own inabilities. When Lord Duberly was desired to refrain from drinking his tea from the saucer, he at once replied, "La! my Lady, my throat a'n't paved;" and, in the same spirit of humility, all who are anxious to cut old friends and addict themselves to a more

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