The priest stopped at a field near the church: the coffin was laid at his feet, and the people ranged themselves round, while he read the funeral service of the church of Rome in a solemn and impressive manner. Fondly attached to their ancient burying-places, which they regard as holy ground, the Catholics still bear their dead to them, though they are mostly now Protestant churchyards. It is almost superfluous to say, that they are not allowed to perform there the ceremonies of their religion, and that the body is laid in the clay, and that the earth falls lumbering upon it, with no solemn mass said or dirge sung. This, to the eye of reason that resides in a large town, will appear a slight evil, but to the heart of sensibility that dwells in the country it is a great one. The more, indeed, I reflect on the evils of the people of Ireland, I am the more disposed to refer a portion of them to feeling, as much as to condition, and to believe that, had they people of feeling to deal with (which statesmen rarely are), they might be got rid of.

The service was succeeded by the mournful cry of death, which continued until we reached the churchyard. To my ears-perhaps attuned to it by the lamentations they just had heard-it seemed a sadly pleasing strain, such as sorrow well might utter, and pensiveness might love to hear. Many who will not allow the Irish cry to be musical, have admitted that it is melancholy; and have thereby admitted their own want of knowledge of music. No concourse of sounds can be melancholy without being musical, nor, paradoxical as it may appear, can any, I think, be fully musical without being melancholy. Music, as well as poetry, issues from heaven, and never can reside in its

perfection with noisy mirth or broad-faced laughter. Let any person try the simple experiment of listening to a German waltz, and afterwards to an English country dance, and, probably, he will be nearly of a similar opinion.

Mourning over the dead, in a manner nearly similar to that in use with the Irish, was practised by almost all ancient nations. Many passages in the sacred writings show that it was the custom of the Hebrews.

"Call for the mourning women, that they may come;" "We have mourned unto you, but you have not lamented;" "Man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets," are a few of them.

Artificial mourners stand round the corpse of Hector, as well as Hecuba and Andromache, and, alternately with the natural ones, bewail his loss and sing his praises.

"A melancholy choir attend around,

With plaintive sighs, and music's solemn sound;
Alternately they sing, alternate flow

The obedient tears, melodious in their woe,
While deeper sorrows groan from each full heart,
And nature speaks at every pause of art."

A similar display of sorrow over the dead body of Pallas, is to be found in the eleventh book of the Æneid.

"Circum omnis famulûmque manus, Trojanaque turba,
Et moestæ Iliades crinem de more solutæ.
Ut vero Æneas foribus sese intulit altis,
Ingentem gemitum tunsis ad sidera tollunt
Pectoribus, mœstoque immugit regia luctu."

The high antiquity of the Irish cry, indeed, is unquestionable, from the circumstance of its obstinately

No kind of

refusing the accompaniment of the base. base accompaniment, as has been remarked by Doctor Burney, was known to the Greeks or Romans. That, however, which would be classic beauty in them, is hideous deformity in the native Irish, and their Keenagh, as it is most frequently called, has been a neverfailing subject of derision and contempt.

It generally combines with lamentations the eulogy of the deceased. In the one I have been describing, the mourners sorrowfully dwelt on the extreme youth of the young man, and bewailed, in no rude strains, his untimely fate. With a little correction from the hand of taste, it would have spoken nearly such language as the following:

The autumn winds rushing

Waft the leaves that are searest,
But our flower was in flushing
When blighting was nearest.
Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the fountain,
Thou art gone and for ever.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Society in the north of Ireland-Character of the NorthernsInstances of their success in life-Colonel T--Lord Moira's commendation of Ulster-Female manners-Conclusion.

A

SINCE writing my last I have met with a slight accident. I must confine myself for a few weeks to

my chamber, and forego the pleasure I proposed to myself, in visiting the Giant's Causeway. I hope to enjoy it, however, on some future occasion. As it is probable, therefore, I may again resume this subject, I shall only make (in addition to those I have already made) a few general remarks on the inhabitants of the north of Ireland.

In other parts of Ireland, it is to be lamented that there are only two classes in society, and that the third, which is the best, is wanting-it is not wanting here. But there are not only three classes, but it may likewise be said, three nations. The gentry, who are the English Irish. The merchants, shopkeepers, and manufacturers, who are the Scotch Irish, and the servants, small farmers, and labourers, who are mostly composed of the native Irish. The second class is the most rational, the most enlightened, and by far the most industrious body; equally removed from the extremes of want and wealth, it is in the middle state, between poverty and riches, in which the royal preacher wished to be placed. It must be admitted, however, that profusion on the one hand, and the exactions of landlords on the other, are inclining it to the side of poverty. In most other countries the gentry give the tone to society; it is the middle class (in a great degree, at least,) that gives it here-it is the link which unites the other two: to a certain degree, correcting their errors and softening their hatreds. In consequence of this, the gentry of the north are milder in their "and bear their faculties more meekly,"

manners,

than in the west and south of Ireland.

It is, therefore, among the Presbyterians of Ulster that the provincial character is to be sought; and I

am happy to be able to remark that, after attentive examination, I find their virtues far more numerous than their defects. In general they are great readers of the Bible. It is the first book that is put into their hands, and all their ideas take a tinge from it, and often their phrases; they are accustomed to reflect, and to talk on the doctrines it contains, and are, therefore, great reasoners on theological, as well as on other subjects. A simple countryman has been known to stand up in the meeting-house, and address the preacher, on what he called false doctrine.

There are few great farmers; the country people are mostly weavers, and have a few acres of land only. This is the ancient, and almost patriarchal mode of life, more favourable to happiness and morality, to national prosperity, though not perhaps to bloated national greatness, than any other. The character and appearance of the English people have been materially injured by crowding such immense numbers of men and women into vast manufactories in large towns. The children of such people are weak, ricketty, and generally as deformed in mind as in body. I have remarked that ricketty people are almost always malevolent. Envy, perhaps, may have some share in this.

The better class of country people live in great abundance; wine is not much used, but they have great plenty of what they like better, and what is, perhaps, better adapted to the climate, which is whiskey punch. They are slovenly in their habits, and an Englishman would often feel disgust at the state in which their houses are kept. These are in general large unhewn masses of stone, with little ornament