Hence

enable him to resist the solicitations of the senses and the !
storms of passion. To teach him to govern his desires,
and to regulate his passions by prudence and in conformity
with the principles of reason, to exercise his moral cou-
rage and to strengthen his will, is the second object of
moral education. Children must be early accustomed to
resist their natural inclinations, to rule their passionate
desires, and to command their emotions. This habit can
only be acquired by exercise and constant effort. The
more we allow passion to rule over us, the more difficult
is it to overcome it, and the more we become its slave;
but strength of Will also increases with success.
the importance of good habits acquired in infancy and
youth. Besides instruction, enlightening the conscience
and forming the moral judgment, the means to be em-
ployed to endow reason with the strength needful to sub-
due the passions and unlawful desires are-the counsels
of prudence, a lively sense of the dignity of human nature,
and especially the voice of Religion. We shall elsewhere
Now
see what discipline can effect with regard to this.
all such means are at the commond of teachers, seconded
by our pastors. It is especially in this latter task that
the intervention of Religion is indispensable to the cause
of Morality. Religiously educated, our children will not
fail to walk in the ways of God, which are those of jus-
tice, truth, purity, and humanity. Let God, therefore,
be presented to them, not only as the Creator and Ruler
of the Universe, but as the Author and Guardian of that
Moral Law which He himself has written on our hearts.

Let the voice of conscience be to them what in reality it
is the voice of God: it will not on that account be more

more sacred.

binding, but it will be more imposing, more powerful, and Above all, let them seek in prayer, in the habit of raising their minds to God, and of filling their souls with the thought of the Infinite, a refuge against misfortune, and, at the same time, strength to resist evil."

IRELAND AND THE IRISH.

We

We have received a number of books and pamphlets respecting the state of Ireland and the causes of the recent famine. If a country could be saved by the multitude of books, Ireland would be happy. There seems to have been quite a rage to write and publish regarding Ireland, on the part of many who did not consider acquaintance with the subject treated essential to authorship. are compelled to leave unnoticed many pamphlets which display prominently that characteristic, and many of even higher pretensions. We have, for example, "The Claim of Ireland," a sermon by Mr. Thom of Liverpool. It is a production at latest for the last century, and treats largely of the penal laws. We have a somewhat similar production by the Roman Catholic Bishop of New York; and indeed there is a very general notion that England oppresses Ireland most miserably, whereas, irrespective of the church which the peasantry do not attend, England is not guilty on this charge. Ireland oppresses Ireland. The superior distrains the serf. Insufficient tenure hampers the tenant; and a land untilled becomes a land of misery.

Upon this subject we cordially recommend "Six

Weeks in Ireland, by William Bennett," a generous Englishman, a member of the Society of Friends, who visited Ireland to dispense the liberal bounty of that body. The work is cheap-full of daguerreotype drawings from life-not, of course, ordinary drawings, but plain pen-and-ink sketches; by which one may comprehend the whole matter that came under the writer's inspection.

* Londen: Charles Gilpin.

Another work not relating to the famine, but written before its time, by an eccentric lady, a native of New York, who left her home, crossed the Atlantic, travelled over a large portion of Ireland on foot and by car, slept in the cheapest lodging-houses often, did all the work as part of her special duty, and has written a book for the same reason. The work is rather large, but not more voluminous than interesting: and if any party, desirous of knowing more than he at present has been told of the Irish peasants, should order from his bookseller, "Ireland's Welcome to the Stranger'*-he will not be disappointed. The lady is a member of the Total Abstinence societies, not merely from intoxicating drinks-for which she deserves all praise-but also, as we learn incidentally, from tea, and from the flesh of animals, a degree of self-denial in which we cannot conveniently join. Her tour was undertaken in 1844 and 1845-the years when the Repeal agitation was in a crisis; and the precise objects in view when it was undertaken are thus described :—

"Remember, my children,' said my father, 'that the Irish are a suffering people; and when they come to your doors, never send them empty away. It was in the garrets and cellars of New York that I first became acquainted with the Irish peasantry, and it was there I saw they were a suffering people. Their patience, their cheerfulness, their flow of blundering, hap-hazard, happy wit, made them to me a distinct people from all I had seen. Often, when seated at my fireside, have I said to those most dear to my heart, God will one day allow me to breathe the mountain air of the sea-girt coast of Ireland, to sit down in their cabins, and there learn what soil has nurtured, what hardships have disciplined, so hardy a race-so patient and so impetuous, so revengeful and so forgiving, so proud and so humble, so obstinate and so docile, so witty and so simple a people.'

"Those who then laughed at my vagaries have all gone down to the dust. The world was before me and all mankind, my brethren. 'I have made you desolate. I want you for other purposes. Go work in my vineyard,' was the word. I conferred not with flesh and blood. No pope or priest, no minister or prelate, augmented my purse, to enable me to spy out the nakedness of the land. I I came a warfare at my own charges.' came to gather no legends of fairies or banshees, to pull down no monarchies, or set up any democracies; but I came to glean after the reapers, to gather up the fragments, to see the poor peasant by wayside and in bog, in the field, and by his peat fire, and to read to him the story of Calvary. I came to linger with the women at the foot of the cross, and go with them early to the sepulchre. I have done so; and should the fastidious reader say that this condescending to men of low estate, this eating with publicans and sinners-above all, this lodging in a manger, is quite in bad odour if not in bad taste, he must be told it was because there was no room for me in the inn,' or because my pained feet could go no far

ther.

I

"I had counted the cost. I knew there were professed Christians in the nineteenth century, who would be forgetful to entertain strangers, and would ask, 'where hast thou left those few sheep in the wilderness?' knew there were doorkeepers in the house of God who would say, 'Sit thou here under my footstool,' if the gold ring and goodly apparel' were wanting; and I knew that she, whose delicate foot never treads the threshold of the poor, would scruple the propriety if not I have not dipped the reputation of her who does it. my pen in gall' towards any of those; I have mentioned no names where they could be readily avoided, and then, in most cases, where gratitude required me to do so.

"I ask no reward-I ask no sympathy. This sowing by

the side of all waters has been abundantly paid by the 'God save ye kindly,' and the Fear not, I am with you.'

"Reader, I would not be an egotist-I would not boast; but I would speak of that Almighty arm that sustained me, when, on a penny's worth of bread, I have walked over mountain and bog for twenty and twenty-three miles, resting upon a wall, by the side of a lake, or upon my basket, reading a chapter in the sweet Word of Life to some listening labourer; and when at night-fall, in some humble lodging-house, my potato and salt were taken, my feet bathed, then could I sing of mercy; then could I say, what lack I yet? I never had one fear by night or by day, nor ever cast a longing, lingering look behind, to my once-loved home across the ocean."

We should perhaps explain that Miss Nicholson acted not only as a traveller determined to see and record what she saw, but also as a missionary; and it may be right to say, that nowhere met she with molestation on account of her principles, although they were often promulgated in the most forbidding places and circumstances.

There is little in her book to criticise, but much to interest. We have no right to quarrel with style when no pretensions to fine writing are made; and no means of dealing with an authoress who only relates facts not as they may always and absolutely be seen, but as she found them. With her passage to Liverpool and thence to Dublin we meddle not; but we join her at the head of Capel Street, in Bolton Street, Dublin, near by the Linen

principles that would do honour to the most cultivated
woman. I have eleven children, ladies; six younger
than the scrawl that has so provoked me, and she has not
done a hap'orth for me to-day. She has been on the
street since six o'clock. Laziness! laziness! ladies!
Shouldn't she be bate? And when I got her in, and
gave her a slap, she gave me impudence, and went into
that room, and fastened the door on me; and she would
not ask my forgiv'ness, ladies; and she would not ask
God's pardon. I wish I could bate her, and not get into
a passion. You must tell her priest,' said one of the
young ladies.
And that I will; he'll hear of this.'
But she's been petted at school, and it won't do to pet
such scrawls; and before she will be idle and filthy, I'll
kill her. She'd better be dead than lazy and dirty. I
sent to Dublin and got a piece of calico, and made them
all dacent. I saved a piece to mend 'em with, and you
see here's a rent in this child's arin (holding up the arm
of a little girl), and that lazy girl won't put on the piece;
and she can sew well. I can't have my children ragged.
I can't have 'em dirty; it's a sin, ladies. Their father
toils, poor man, till dark night, to keep their clothes
dacent, and keep 'em in school.' Here a shrivelled old
woman entered, saying, And what's all this? This
girl is as fine a slip as you'll find in all Wicklow-a fine
scholar.' You see, ladies,' remarked the mother,
how she's petted; that's the trouble. They must be
bate.'"

Although next to Antrim, Down, and the eastern and northern counties, as respects the people, and over them as regards scenery of one description, Dublin county and Wicklow may be considered the garden of Ireland, yet we cannot avoid quoting the impressions which the authoress says that she was induced to form of Wicklow and its people.

progress which education was making, and, we trust, makes still, amongst that people.

"At last the town of Youghal, with her noble bridge, met the eye. The drawbridge was raised for the steamer to pass, and we saw the houses extended along the seashore, on the vicinity of a hill, commanding a noble prospect of the sea. The busy population in pursuit of gain by their bartering and bantering, told us that self here was no important item, though not a beggar put out her hand, invoking the blessing of the Virgin' for your penny. A ferry-boat put me safely on the other side, leaving me a three miles' walk, partly upon the beach, but mostly inland, and thus giving an opportunity of seeing a peasantry who speak English only when compelled by necessity. Making inquiry from cabin to cabin, not one bawled out, go along to such a place, and inquire;' but each one left her work, sometimes accompanied by two dogs and thrice the number of pigs, and led me a distance on the way, with a kind God bless ye,' at parting. A troop of boys now came galloping at full speed, intent, one might suppose, on sport or mischief. But each had a book under his arin or in his hand, and I saw they were returning from school; and, saluting them kindly, they gathered around me, listened to the story of schools in America, and earnestly asked such questions as to them seemed important. At our parting, each was emulous to direct me my way, lest at the cross-road' I should mistake. Now, ma'am, don't you take the left;" nor don't you go straight on,' said a second, but turn to the right,' &c. And when, like so many young deer, they bounded away, I blessed God that the dawn of education was breaking upon Ireland, and that the generation now rising shall feel its genial ray, and by her power have the independence to assert their country's heavenborn rights."

What Miss Nicholson may mean by Heaven-born rights, and the independence of Ireland, we can scarcely see; but we suppose that she became inoculated with the repeal doctrines, to which Americans are generally so attached when applied to others, and so averse when pro

My visit to the county of Wicklow being finished, I am happy to say that both country and people exceeded my sanguine expectations. The natural scenery, the cultivation, but, most of all, the peasantry, possess a kind of fascination which every unprejudiced traveller must confess. Many of the peasantry are cleanly, intel-posed in their own country, under the term nullification. ligent, and industrious, and an inviting charin hangs about their cottages, which says to the stranger there is peace and comfort within; and when you enter, you feel you are welcome. The Irish greeting cannot be mis

understood; and here the same kindness and the same
order prevailed among Catholics as among Protestants.
I called one Saturday evening at an humble cottage,
where the children, to the number of five, all took their
scats, unbidden, in a corner. Their neatness and good
conduct caused me to look about more particularly, and
there I saw the signs of a prudent wife and mother.
'You see,' said the young ladies, as we passed out, the
management of this poor woman; she is always clean,
always comfortable, and her children always tidy, though
poor. They had been kept to school; and, by the
strictest economy, the family had never been obliged to
trouble their neighbours in sickness, ever having needful
supplies for such exigencies, though possessing not a
farthing but the daily labour of the father. They never
partake of tea, coffee, or ardent spirits, or meat, except
at Christmas.

"I must leave Wicklow with a grateful remembrance of undeserved kindness, for the last words I heard were, My house shall be welcome to you, whenever you come this way.'"'

Economy and cleanliness are not the virtues for which in England and Scotland the Irish peasants have credit; but we know that before this sad famine desolated the land there were many striking improvements in these respects. We cannot easily reckon all the grieYous consequences of the late judgment. It has bruised the heart and spirit of the people in a way that will not be easily healed, although those improvements to which it may ultimately lead will, we trust, compensate for this sorrowful break in the progress of Ireland.

The scene is changed to Youghal, far in the south; and the short subjoined note affords not merely justice to the kind heartedness of the Irish peasantry, but also to the

With all Miss Nicholson's good sense, she inherits the fault of her countrymen-continually reporting private conversations with private individuals; so that one requires to weigh warily words that are spoken to a travelling American. Miss Nicholson had heard that England was taking the liberty to break the seals of letters going from Ireland to America, and to retain such as did not suit her views of matters relative to the country." Miss Nicholson had paid postage on a package of letters more than three months without receiving an answer; and so the good, innocent damsel supposed that Sir James Graham must have had his eye on her- have “Grahamed," and suppressed her correspondence. In the uneasiness natural after this fiight of the imagination she was advised by some wag, probably, to apply to Sir Richard Musgrave, a country gentleman, for information as to the probability of England opening and detaining Miss Nicholson's correspondence. She accordingly obtained a letter to Sir Richard Musgrave, although from whom, or with what contents, is not stated; yet these elements must have entered largely into the question of its value, and away she went on an additional pilgrimage of eighteen miles to make the inquiry. She received a high character of Sir Richard Musgrave. One man told her that he was "condescending in manner, peculiarly kind of heart, a true friend of Ireland and O'Connell, and delights in doing good to Catholics, though himself a ProAnother said, "Sir Richard will sartainly consider your case. He is a good man, and his wife is a kind woman.' "" These observations, by-the-bye, should not be recorded in books, regarding persons of some It is an exhibition of bad taste, standing in the world. of which American writers should free their style. What follows is worse.

testant."

"The sea

was dashing against the gravelly beach at the front of the dwelling; an air of comfort was shed around; and when the porter responded to

for England. He had been a father, indeed, she said, and the care of the house was entrusted to her.

"When I was comfortably prepared in my lodging-room, with a fire and clean bed, and contrasted it with the preceding night, in what extremes do I find myself, from cabin to castle, tossed like a 'rolling thing before a whirlwind,' yet never destroyed. I slept in peace, and thanked God that in Ireland one rich godly man could be found, who called all mankind his brethren.

In the morning, I took my breakfast, was kindly invited to come when Mr. S- should be at home, and went out, and called at the lodge-house, where was a godly woman, poor in this world, but rich in faith. A pleasant hour was passed with her, for, with such, lessons to be learned which the rich cannot teach. The rain had deluged the country the preceding night; and many a poor cabin was swept away, with the miserable furniture and the affrighted inmates had fled, with their children in their arms, naked as they were, from their beds of straw.

my knock, and had gone to present my card, I
looked about the hall, and seeing no false appendages
of greatness, and being soon invited into the parlour by
the gentleman himself, I felt as much at ease as when
eating my potatoes in the cabin. I introduced myself,
and the object of my errand, while he peered at me over
his spectacles, and seemed to listen with attention. He
read my letter of introduction, and returned it without
note or comment. I stated the exigencies of my case, as
a stranger in a strange land, and asked if he could give
any information as to whether the English government
had really taken the liberty to open and retain letters.
He looked silently upon me, with a gaze which seemed to
say, 'I wish this insignificant woman could finish her
story, and let me return to my lunch.' 'I may be keep-are
ing you from dinner, sir.' 'I was taking lunch, madam;
my dinner hour is five.' Do you know, sir, and will
you tell me, whether you think this report true or false?'
No answer he took out his watch; I understood the
signal, and rose to depart. I can give you no advice
on this subject.' As I was going into the hall he said,
'Maybe you would take something to eat.'
'I am
not hungry, sir,' replied I. My heart rejected this coldly-
proffered bread. Then did the cabin woman's potato
look doubly valuable, and I blessed God that he had left
some poor in the world, that every vestige of humanity
and kind feeling might not be swept from the earth. The
heart of a stranger was emphatically mine. I had travelled
a distance of twenty miles for the privilege of being treated
with the coldest indifference by a titled gentleman.

"Yet I was not sorry. I at least learned something; This man was celebrated for his urbanity of manners and kindness of heart; the well-intentioned friends who advised me to apply to him were certain that he would solve my difficulties; and I had gone more in complaisance to their good feelings, than from a favourable opinion of the undertaking on my part. I had visited Ireland to see the poor, to learn its manners and customs, and how they would treat American strangers in any and every condition. I was placed in peculiar circumstances, and a few kind words, if they would not have helped me out of my dilemma, would have cost him but little, and have been grateful to me. But not even a generous look could be gained, and I hoped my friends would see that this boasting of the benevolence of great men is often but boasting, and whoever follows them to

get good, will generally find himself in pursuit of an ignis fatuus, which, perchance, may land him in a quagmire.'

We doubt very much whether many gentlemen would have been more civil to a lady travelling on foot, without introduction probably of an unexceptionable character; and travelling alone. Miss Nicholson may prefer American manners; but, of course, when in Ireland, she should judge actions of this kind by an Irish standard, and remember that she went to Sir Richard Musgrave on the most absurd errand.

At Birr she met with a rich gentleman of her own eccentric caste, but gentlemen of his character are rarities in Ireland.

"I set off in the heavy rain to find the house or castle of a rich man, who was considered a great eccentric. He was owner of three domains, but had divested them of all their frippery, had put on a frieze coat and brogues, and literally condescended to men of low estate in dress and equipage. He had taken many orphans into his house, and provided them food and clothing. When I reached his dwelling, my clothes were profusely drenched. Mr. Swas not at home. I asked the housekeeper if I might step in till the rain should abate, and dry my clothes. She allowed me to do so; and I followed her through a long gangway of desolated halls, to a kitchen, and found a company about to dine in the same way, and on the same materials, as the cabin people do. The rain continued; and an invitation to stop over night was not needed a second time. A fire was made in a parlour, where no carpets or supernumeraries met the eye. Tea, bread, and butter were offered, and the housekeeper made everything pleasant. She had embraced the principles of her master, who had taken her when but two years old, begging her from a widowed mother, who was embarking

"The lawn containing the telescope of Lord Rosse was open, and passing the gate, the old lady who presided in the lodge asked me to go through the grounds, which were free to all. Much did I regret that clouds obscured the sky the whole time I was in Birr, so that not one gaze could I have through that magnificent instrument. The pipe is fifty-two feet in length, and six and a-half in diameter. The Earl is mentioned as a man of great philanthropy, and much beloved by the gentry and the poor."

Miss Nicholson treats the late Mr. O'Connell's house

keeper much after the way in which she dealt with Sir Richard Musgrave. We cannot suppose that Mr. Maurice O'Connell was to go in search of every adventurous damsel who travelled from New York to see Darrynane; and the housekeeper would probably set down the authoress as "a forward, impudent hussy." Such is the difference of standard by which actions are judged in

different countries.

"When I reached the summit of the mountain, and the sea with its wild shore, islands, and dashing waves, broke upon my view, I knew the abode of the wonderful man, O'Connell, was near, and I paused to take a full view of the wildness around. Here then did the keen, deep seek out an abode; here were the principles, the agitameaning, and nondescript eye of this never-tiring agitator here, wave after wave dashes against the rock, so has tions, of the ever-stirring mind nurtured and fed; and as agitation after agitation dashed with impetuosity against the Gibraltar of England, as yet impregnable. But hush! a woman must walk softly on political pavements. A circuitous well-made road winds down the mountain, and you see not the indescribable mansion that is embosomed in rock and tree, till within a few paces of the spot. Here no walls or surly porter, demanding a pass, hedge up the entrance; but a path like that to a New England farmhouse leads you on, and you may take your choice of entrance into the heterogeneous abode, by kitchen, chapel, or hall; choosing the latter, I rang the bell, an old man answered, saying, 'I am only a stranger, and will inquire if you can have admittance.' A waiter came next, and ushered me into the parlour, saying, all were from home, but Maurice O'Connell and the house-keeper. The countenance of the latter was to me better fitted to drive away the enemy than to invite the friend; and the sequel proved more than I dreaded, when I met her cold penurious look and manner. She showed me into the library, which presented a tolerable assortment of Encylopaedias, Lives of Saints, Waverley Novels, Law Books, &c. The drawing-room contained all that is needed for ornament or use. The portrait of O'Connell, engraved to the life, taken while in the penitentiary, and one taken some years before, are not the least objects of interest in the room. The portraits of his wife, daughters, grand-daughters, and sons, form the most important ornaments in the house. Among the family group, are a brother and sister, the sister in the act of swinging, sitting in a rope; the little brother with a roguish smile, holding the rope, and a little dog looking on, enjoying the sport. It is the happiest touch of nature, in portrait painting, I ever saw. A chapel, not finished, is attached to one end of the house.