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and heroes, as guilty of flat rebellion sioner. Let us calculate : put H for against the first and most sacred canon one of these mutilated warriors of a of nature—the law of self-preservation; hundred fights, T for a knight of the and when I read or hear of them lying thimble, and M for an integer man. in heaps on the ensánguined plain, or Then, as H is by hypothesis an ascrawling to their tents after their dear- tonishing hero, and therefore retainbought victories, armless, legless, nose- ing, in all probability, not above oneless, and riddled with balls, like so ninth of the carcase which he brought many targets, I behold the just punish- with him into the world, we have ment of their insurrectionary conduct.
H= When the line of battle is drawn out;
Now, it is a theorem, as well
9. I own I do not even talk of these established as any in mixed mathemathings without an itching of my heels, tics, that the relation between T and M and a shuddering over my whole is expressed by a like fraction, or that when the swords are unsheath
T=M ed, the bayonets fixed, the musquets
Comparing these two equaloaded, the cannon ready to roar at a tions we arrive at the true expression moment's notice from the gunners, is or value for a warlike character, namethere not-I put it to every man of ly H=T; a conclusion which, by common sense, is there not a small mathematical demonstration, places, still voice within us which distinctly Mr. Hulby or Mr. Willis on a par says, “ run away as fast as your legs with any military maniac on record, can carry you."
I have heard it a from the son of Peleus down to fightthousand times, on infinitely less trying ing Fitzgerald. occasions ; it is, no doubt, one of
Again, it is an admitted principle, those heaven-sent warnings, which it is
recognised by all sound political ecodownright impiety to slight; and if nomists, that one of the chief elements we dare to disobey, our blood be on
of national strength is population, our own heads ; we have none to blame Now, what kind of population is to be but ourselves for the horrible conse
understood ? I answer, in the first quences which are certain to ensue, as place, a living population, not a dead long as gunpowder and cold steel possess
one ; and in the second, a population the property of repealing the union of with as large, and not as small
, a sup, soul and body. To my, uniform and ply of hands, and feet, and eyes, and rigid observance of this inward admo- noses, as possible. What follows, but nition do I ascribe it, that I am now
that he is the best patriot, who most in the full enjoyment of life and health, anxiously provides for the safe-keeping and that when I call the muster-roll of of his person ; in other words, the the various limbs and features of my man who eschews an armed enemy, as body, (in which I piously consider my- a good Christian does the horns of the self as having only a trust-property,) devil ? I am aware I state what many there is not a single one of the whole will call a paradox ; but I think it is number missing. But you will say,
a principle in politics, not more origi' “Sir, where is your reputation ?" My nal than correct, that the strength of reply is, that a live coward is well every country is directly proportioned worth a dead hero ; and an integral to the quantity and intensity of the man better
fifty times than one of those spirit of cowardice that animates her wretched fractions of humanity to be people. An alacrity to run away has seen limping and creeping about our saved many a good citizen for the military and naval hospitals, with one service of the commonwealth, who had limb in Flanders, a second in Portugal, otherwise been a meal for carrion and often a third in America or Egypt, crows, or, at best, a subject for anatoI really do not know with what pro- mical investigation. Were all men as priety one of these miserable remnants covetous of cork legs, as the Marquis
Sans leg, sans arm, sans eye, sans every thing," of Anglesea, what should we do for can have manhood predicated of them runners of the bank or post-men? A at all? If we admit them into fellow- hero would make a bad letter-carrier ship with our kind, it must be with the or running foot man. Then there is same limitations that we make in the Sir Henry Hardinge, who was so descase of a tailor, who is indeed the just perately gallant, that he left his rightalgebraic equivalent of a Chelsea pen- arm behind him somewhere or other
on the continent. What would be- sieges, abominating swords and pistols, come of the loom and anvil, if there preferring any extremity of disgrace to were not members of the community a duel, imitating the bearing of Horace more frugal of their limbs than Sir and Demosthenes in action, but deHenry? Why, we should want stock- voutly resolving, never, if possible, to ings to our feet, and twelve-penny show even our backs upon such disa, nails to knock up a booth at Donny- agreeable occasions. By “ deeds of brook. The human frame is the great peace,” the same thing is to be underimplement, or machine, of human in- stood." The lyric poet just mentioned dustry; the fewer dislocations and performed an exploit of this kind at mutilations it has undergone, the better Phillippi, when he threw away his it is adapted to its object. Take away shield and waddled out of the fray with an arm and it is like depriving a pump all the speed he was capable of. He of its handle; take away a leg, and it does not appear, however, to have been is like pulling a wheel from a waggon ; aware how creditable a line of conduct slice off a nose, and you might as well he adopted, or he would not have said take the gnomon from the dial-plate. in alluding to it, A perfect man is a perfect engine ; his usefulness is the marimum. The dif
" Relictå non bene parmulA.” ference between the hero and the das. He never did any thing in his life half turd is this, the latter glories in the so discreet and commendable. Demosperfection of his frame ; the former is thenes, too, achieved a “deed of peace,” never at rest-never contented for a when he rushed from Cheronea like one moment, until he has minimised his pursued by fiends, and finding himself body corporate, and reached the pre- caught in his retreat, wheeled round, cise limit at which further subtraction fell on his knees, roared like a wild bull, is incompatible with existence ; and and craved quarter, of—a blackberry when he has done this, he plants laurels bush. Oh! 'Sir, this is true glory. and sits him down under the shade, This is not the bubble that is to be and imagines himself a paragon of found in the cannon's mouth,” but honour and glory. Such extreme folly the substantial reputation that is reconis truly melancholy, and reminds one cilable with a skull unfractured, bones forribly of the metamorphosed herd of unbroken, and a long life in the bosom Circe.
of our family and friends. * And they, so perfect is their misery,
Let any one who likes have the reNot once perceive their foul disfigurement, nown of the Nelsous, Wolfes, and Bat think themselves more comely
Abercrombies ; I prefer my own bed, The true glory is evidently in the albeit a hard mattrass, to any“ bed of opposite scale ; and I have the autho- honour" that was ever prepared for rity of the great poet I have just quoted warrior. The skin of a man is made in support of my opinion.
from different materials than the hide
of a rhinoceros, and as long as it is so, “ Peace hath her victories, I shall hold it a point of conscience to renowned than war."
shudder at a sword, even in the scabThe glories of cowardice flashed bard, and to run at the cocking of a across the spirit of Milton as he wrote pistol as if a rampant and roaring lion this, and other passages of the same was at my heels. I am fond of my tenor and import. He says in another dinner, and I feel it convenient to have place, contrasting the principles of war- two hands to assist me in dispatching riors and cravens,
it: I like a walk over the hills in sum
mer-time, and I doubt much if I should "But if there is in glory aught of good, It may by means for different be obtained
enjoy that pleasure often, was I so By deeds of peace.”
consummate a hero as his Excellency
the late Lord Lieutenant. “Means far different,” must mean
I am, &c. flight in battle, lurking in cellars during
How wild, yet how sweetly the mariner's hymn
Floats over Ionia's sea.
Roll darkly and peacefully.
In burnish'd mail array'd,
And gleaming thro’ the shade.
To his love, to his native shore,
Of her he should part from no more.
Behold on its summit above,
The beautiful maid of his love.
BARNY O'REIRDON, THE NAVIGATOR. By Samuel Lorer, Esq. R. H.A. Author of " Legends and Stories of Ireland.”
“ 'Tis an in wind that blows nobody good."-Old Saying.
The captain ordered Barny on deck, tiller in all Kinsale,” said Barny with as he wished to have some conversation his usual brag. with him on what he, very naturally, “ Well, so far so good,” said the considered a most extraordinary ad- captain. “ And you know the points venture. Heaven help the captain! of the compass—you have a compass, he knew little of Irishmen or he would I suppose.' not have been so astonished. Barny “ A compass! by my sowlanits not let made his appearance. Puzzling ques. alonea compass, but a paira compasses I tion, and more puzzling answer, followed have, that my brother, the carpinthir, in quick succession between the com- left me for å keepsake whin he wint mander and Barny, who, in the abroad ; but, indeed, as for the points midst of his dilemma, stamped about, o'thim I can't say much, for the chilthumpert his head, squeezed his cau dher spylt thim intirely, rootin' holes been into all manner of shapes, and in the flure.” vented his despair anathematically “ What the plague are you talking
“Oh! my heavy hathred to you, about?" asked the captain. you tarnal thief iv a long sailor, its a “ Wasn't your honor discoorsin' me purty scrape yiv led me into. By gor, about the points o' the compasses?" I thought it was Fingal he said, and “ Confound your thick head !" said now I hear it is Bingal. Oh! the the captain. Why, what an ignoradivil sweep you for navigation, why mus you must be, not to know what a did I meddle or make wid you at all at compass is, and you at sea all your life? all ! and my curse light on you, Terry Do you even know the cardinal points?" O'Sullivan, why did I iver come acrass
“ The cardinals ! faix an its a great you, you onlooky vagabonde, to put respect I have for them, your honor. sitch thoughts in my heail? An so its Sure, ar'n't they belongin' to the Pope?" Binzal, and not Fingal, you're goin to, “ Confound you, you blockhead !" captain."
roared the captain in a rage-“ 'twould - Yes indeed, Paddy."
take the patience of the Pope and the An' might I be so bowld to ax, cap- cardinals, and the cardinal virtues into tain, is Bingal much farther nor Fingal? the bargain, to keep one's temper with - A trifle or so, Paddy."
you know the four points of Och, thin, millia murther, weira- the wind ?" sthru, how 'ill I iver get there, at all at By my soul I do, and more." all : roared out poor Barny.
Well, never mind more, but let us By turning about, and getting back stick to four. You're sure you know the road you've come, as fast as you the four points of the wind ?»° can."
“ By dad it would be a quare thing " Is it back? Oh! Queen iv Hea- if a sayfarin inan did'nt know somethin' ven! an how will I iver get back ?" about the wind any how. Why, capsaid the bewildered Barny.
tain dear, you must take me for a Then you don't know your course nath'ral intirely to suspect me o' the it appears ?"
like o' not knowin' all about the wind. “Oh faix I knew it, iligant, as long as By gor, I know as much o' the wind your honor was before me.”
a'most as a pig." “ But, you don't know your course
“ Indeed I believe so," laughed out back ?"
the captain. " Why, indeed, not to say rightly all " Oh, you may laugh if you plaze, out, your honor."
and I see by that same that you
don't “ Can't you steer?” said the captain. know about the pig, with all your edi* The divil a betther hand at the cation, captain.”
Well, what about the pig ?" Decide upon the matter at once, either
Why, Sir, did you never hear a pig come on board or cast off;" and the can see the wind zi
captain was turning away as he spoke, “ I can't say that I did.”
when Barny called after him, “ Arrah, “ Oh thin he does, and for that rayson thin, your honor, don't go jist for one who has a right to know more about minit antil I ax you one word more. If it za
I wint wid you, whin would I be home “ You don't, for one, I dare say, agin ?" Paddy; and maybe you have a pig “ In about seven months.” aboard to give you information.”
Oh, thin, that puts the wig an it at “ Sorra taste your honor, not as much wanst. I dar'n't go at all.” as a rasher o' bacon; but its maybe “ Why, seven months are not long your honor never seen a pig tossin up passing.' his snout, consaited like, and running “ Thrue for you, in throth,” said like mad afore a storm."
Barny, with a shrug of his shoulders. Well, what if I have pas
Faix its myself knows, to my sorrow, Well, Sir, that is when they see the half-year comes round mighty sudthe wind a comin."
dint, and the Lord's agint comes for the " Maybe so, Paddy, but all this thrifle o' rint; and faix. I know, by knowledge in piggery wont find you Molly, that nine months is not long in your way home; and, if you take my goin' over either," added Barney with advice, you will give up all thoughts of a grin. endeavouring to find your way back, “ Then what's your objection, as to and come on board. 'You and your the time ?" asked the captain. messmates, I dare say, will be useful “ Arrah, sure, Sir, what would the hands, with some teaching ; but, at all woman that owns me do while I was events, I cannot leave you here on the away ? and maybe its break her heart open sea, with every chance of being the craythur would, thinkin' I was lost lost."
intirely ; and who'd be at home to take Why thin, indeed, and I'm be care o' the childher, and airn thim the howlden to your honor ; and its the bit and the sup, whin I'd be away ? and hoighth o' kindness, so it is, your offer; who knows but its all dead they'd be and its nothin' else but a gentleman you afore I got back? Och hone! sure the are, every inch o' you ; but I hope its heart id fairly break in my body, it hurt not so bad wid us yet, as to do the likes or harm kem to them, through me. So, o' that."
say no more, captain dear, only give me “ I think it's bad enough,” said the a thrifle o' directions how I'm to make captain, “when you are without a an offer at gettin' home, and its myself compass, and knowing nothing of your that will pray for you night, noon and course, and nearly a hundred and eighty mornin', for that same.” leagues from land.”
“ Well, Paddy,” said the captain, “ Au' how many miles would that be, you are determined to go back, in captain ?"
spite of all I can say, you must attend Three times as many."
to me well while I give you as simple “ I never larned the rule o' three, instructions as I captain, and maybe your honor id tell know the four points of the wind, me yourself.”
North, South, East, and West." “ That is rather more than five hun
« Yis Sir." dred miles.”
“ How do you know them, for I must “ Five hundred miles !” shouted see that you are not likely to make a Barny. “Oh! the Lord look down mistake-How do
you know the on us! how ’ill weiver get back !!”
points ?" “ That's what I say,” said the cap Why, you see, Sir, the Sun, God tain ; “and, therefore, I recommend bless it, rises in the Aist, and sets in the you come aboard with me.”
West, which stands to raison; and “And where 'ud the hooker be all whin you stand bechuxt the aist and the the time ?" said Barny.
west, the North is forninst you." “ Let her go adrift,” was the answer. And when the north forninst
“ Is it the darlint boat ? Oh, by you, as you say, is the east on your right dad, I'll never hear o' that at all.”
left hand ? Well, then, stay in her and be lost, « On the right hand, your honour."
You say you