Page images
PDF
EPUB

own skill.

nimia, with strict injunctions to withdraw her affections. That young lady had been now so well-tutored in the art of putting off and on affection that she soon disrobed her heart. This was the triumph of Lady Leith's system of education, and when she communicated the particulars to her brother, she commented largely on her "You see," said she in one of her letters, "that Monimia, under my instruction, has captivated, by her manners and good conduct, a young man of great expectations, and when those expectations failed, she has had the prudence to withdraw her af fection. Be assured that she will never disgrace herself by marrying a poor man. Her ambition and pru dence are exactly what I could wish them to be." Many friends and acquaintances of Monimia, especially among the younger people, reprobated her conduct as a disgraceful specimen of insensibility, but she was highly praised among the insensible and the aged, and recommended by them to the young as a pattern of prudence and refinement.

While Lady Leith was elevating Monimia in such a manner as ensured her the attainment of prosperous circumstances, Mr. Rusby was proceeding in the education of his daughter, Clara, in his own simple and unostentatious manner. He never inculcated ambitious designs, but, on the contrary, taught her to be moderate in her expectations. He was unable to give her instructions how to enter a room gracefully, to captivate attention by striking attitudes, to catch the adoration of numerous suitors, and hold them for a long time in her train by smiles and insinuations full of coquetry and fallacy, but he well understood how to improve his daughter's mind by solid and useful instruction. By the time she attained the age of eighteen she was highly accomplished, and was generally admired for the beauty of her person, and the artless simplicity of her character. Not being warped by any artful or ambitions designs on the part of her parent, she followed the natural bent of her disposition, and attached herself to a young man of her

own age, the son of a respectable gen tleman, who lived in the parish of Halton. This was her first love, and, like most of those affections which the heart spontaneously adopts at an early age, was ardent and sincere. 17 ¢ ?} ¢ !8!!

for

The young gentleman her suitor had no fortune, and but very moderate expectations, yet Mr. Rusby did not think himself warranted in refusing his approbation of her attachment, he only stipulated with the youth that he should patiently wait until the appearance of better prospects, and not involve, by a precipitate and thoughtless marriage, his daughter in difficulty and distress. The presentation of an ensigney to the lover called him to more active scenes in the Peninsula, when he first flashed his sword at the Battle of Talavera. In the succeeding battles he displayed resolution and ability, and attained a company by his undaunted defence of a fort in one of the engagements fought in the Pyrenees. His career was however checked, and his farther advancement annihilated by the battle of Toulouse, where he lost a leg, and was dangerously wounded in the head by a musket ball, which carried away part of his jaw, and deprived him, a considerable time of the power of speech. This event happened about the same time that the failure of the great stock jobber put an end to the intended marriage between his son and Monimia. He recovered slowly from his wounds, and was compelled to travel by slow journeys towards England, where Mr. Rusby and his daughter were anxiously awaiting the arrival of the gallant soldier, to whose infirmities and misfortunes they were anxious to administer comfort. Lady Leith used all her influence with her niece to induce her to seize the occasion of breaking off a match with a man whom she designated as a beggar and a cripple. Her endeavours were ineffectual. She could neither shake the steady affection of Clara, nor the firm and generous principles of Mr. Rusby. As soon as the young soldier arrived in England he wrote a letter to bis Clara, intimating that he dreaded an interview with her. "When I left you," said he in his letter, "I was in

a

the possession of perfect health, full of alacrity, ambitious in my designs, handsome in my person, if I may believe the opinions of others, and match, a suitable match, except in fortune, to yourself; I now return a battered and worn out soldier, disfigured, maimed, and, like a young tree struck by lightning, blasted in the early put ting forth of my expectations. It were better that I should never see you again, my Clara, than see you to lose, through my want of personal advantages, that affection which I had once the happiness to inspire." As soon as Clara received this letter she set out with her father to meet her lover. Their meeting was like the junction of two streams that unite for ever. A short but violeut agitation of contending passions was followed by composure and happiness. About three months after their return to Halton the young soldier was united to Clara. In addition to his half-pay he received a pension of two hundred a-year, as a remuneration for his wounds and services. This, together with a small allowance from his father, and a residence in the parsonage, enabled them to enjoy that which no wealth can purchase-contented affection.

It was not long before the charms and manners of Monimia Rusby gained another suitor. This second admirer was even richer than the first: he was a gentleman of extensive business, one of the representatives of the City of London, and a baronet. He was past the meridian of his days, a widower with two children, and not altogether a husband of such temper and manners as would have pleased a young woman whose mind had been inclined to refinement and romance. She had, however, by this time so completely imbibed the principles of her aunt, and become so nice a calculator, that she knew what sum of money was a set-off against a defect. Being told that her intended husband was a person of a bad temper, she replied, "True, but he settles upon me twenty thousand pounds." "He is too old," said a friend, "to marry a woman of your youth and beauty." "Not at all," was her reply, "for he'll

keep me a carriage." "Depend upon it, my dear," said a third person, "you'll be miserable with him." "There can be no misery," she answered, "where there is immense wealth." In this manner she exmplified the great pains which Lady Leith had taken in her education, and her preceptress was not a little flattered when she contrasted the consummate prudence and discretion shown by her own pupil, with what she termed, the childish romance of her niece Clara. A few months brought the marriage of Monimia to a conclusion. Sir Crofton Fullpurse vainly supposed that the preference which had been shown to him over the younger suitors of his bride, was to be attributed to his manners and character, and not to the temptation of his wealth. So little are those, who estimate money above all things, inclined to admit, that the wealth they possess is the only thing which can recommend them to others.

While affairs were proceeding thus prosperously, in the Leith family, the failure of the great stock jobber was silently working out the ruin of some of the first houses in the City. These sudden explosions of great commercial houses may be assimilated to the reverberations of an echo in a mountainous country. A cannon is fired off, and close to your side the shock is instantly repeated. It then ceases and you suppose that you will hear no more of it, when you perceive an obscure and feeble repetition, at an immense distance; "It is dying away, you observe," and then again it thunders in your ears, apparently more loud than at first. After repeated shocks, which often come from quarters where you least expect them, the explosion dies away and the matter is forgotten. The failure of the stock jobber was of this nature. The Leith family appeared to stand secure, and were talking, and wondering at the numerous failures, obscure and important, which it had created, when suddenly they were alarmed by the explosion of a house, with which Sir James had immense transactions, and this was instantly followed by the failure of his own banker. After the

first consternation was past, and they she passed her by, and hurried down

were able to summon sufficient calmness of mind to calculate their resources, Lady Leith directed the mind of Sir James to the assistance which might be derived from Sir Crofton Fullpurse; she knew the influence which Monimia possed over her hus band, and proposed to visit her for the purpose of requesting her interest with him to prop the credit of Sir James. The carriage was ordered, and she repaired instantly to Monimia. The rumour of the great events had preceded her. Her reception was cold and formal. "I come, my dear Monimia," said Lady Leith in an agony of grief, "to request you will prevail on Sir Crofton to assist us on this trying occasion." "Your Ladyship," replied Monimia, "shall not want an advocate in me, bot—” "Heavens, Monimia," cried Lady Leith, "is this the language, this the return you make for all my kind and generous exertions in your favour?” "Your Ladyship," replied Monimia, 66 seems to forget that I am no longer my own mistress, but the obedient wife of a gentleman, whose interest and happiness it is my duty above all things to consider. That done, your Ladyship shall not want, as I have said before, an advocate in me." The impetuous temper of Lady Leith, could no longer bear this cold offer of assistance; she seized the bell, rose hastily from the sofa, dropt a slight curtsey to her niece as

stairs to her carriage. The agitation of her mind, arising from this discovery of the selfishness and ingratitude of Monimia, combined with the shock which her nerves had received from the apprehension of the danger which seemed to threaten her family, threw her into hysterics. A violent fever followed, and during some days her physician apprehended a fatal termination As soon as she recovered, it was thought right that she should undergo a temporary removal from these scenes where she had suffered, and she herself chose Halton Parsonage, the residence of her brother, as the place where she could best recover from the wounds which her feelings had receiv ed. The reception which Mr. Rusby and his children gave her, was most kind and hearty. During two months she lived at Halton, and in that time often confessed to her own mind, and by words to the ear of Mr. Rusby, that she had been deceived in her speculations on education: that principles of ambition and selfishness inculcated to young people, recoil in the hour of distress and difficulty on their instructors. As soon as the affairs of Sir James were adjusted, she returned to London. Clara from that time became a favourite of Lady Leith, and at the death of Sir James, she received the fortune which had been destined for Monimia.

TALES OF IRISH LIFE,

ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE. WITH DESIGNS BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.

THER HERE is no accounting for Tastes: de gustibus non est disputandum, say the old Classics. It will hardly be believed, that in truth we have reaped as much gratification in reading these Tales, as in perusing the longest reports of any one of the disputations between the Romish Priests and the Bible distributors in Ireland; the discussions on the snug appropriation of the Catholic rent, or the debates on dissolving the Union-that pearl which

drunken agitators, like the mad revellers of ancient times, would throw into their intoxicating cup to destroy, though it cost the price of a kingdom.

There are sixteen Tales in these two small and neat volumes, all of them illustrative of the feelings and manners of a people, it must be confessed far too little known. We do not observe any undue leaning, either to one side or another, of those who abuse the ignorance of Ireland, and wickedly

labour to keep alive the distractions which tear and rend it. The incidents look as if they were drawn from life, and if we find a furious Protestant in one page doing evil, we in the next observe the pernicious influence of the Catholic Priest. There is, therefore, much matter worthy of earnest nation al attention in these fictions, while at the same time they are characteristic and amusing. Without agreeing with the writers in all his ideas, we cannot but highly approve of his work, of which an abridgment of the story of Poor Mary will afford our readers a tolerable sample.

"On the road from Thurles to Cashel the traveller will frequently see written, by a variety of hands, on walls and posts, 'Poor Mary!' the epithet poor being considered by the Irish peasantry the most expressive word for sympathetic pity. This testimony of regard for the sufferings of Mary becomes more conspicuous and more frequent as the traveller approaches the latter town; and should he feel any desire to know the cause, he cannot fail of receiving information from those he meets, either in the English or Irish language; for all know the history of Poor Mary?

66

6

England or Ireland, intended by Nature, like man and woman, for mutual support and happiness, unfortunately entertain such unaccountable prejudices, that they know nearly as little of each other's manners and habits as the South Sea Indian does of the Calmuc Tartar.

"In estimating the enjoyments and virtues of the sister island, the logic of an Englishman is, in his own opinion, very conclusive and satisfactory. An Irishman is a Papist; ergo, a superstitious fool; an Irishman eats potatoes; ergo, he is starved; ergo, he must be unhappy. But, notwithstanding the ridicule of some, and the false reasoning of others, happiness is still to be found in Ireland; it is only to be lamented that the natives do not know the value of that tranquil felicity which they might enjoy did they not exhibit too much readiness to co-operate with design and folly, which generally terminates in the ruin of their peace and

[merged small][ocr errors]

"The glebe Rouleen consisted of twenty Irish acres, on which stood the warm thatched house, or rather cabin, of Jack Wilson. The annual whitewashing which was given to it every Christmas rendered it conspicuous from the road; and the four large trees which shaded the bawn, or yard, gave it an air of comfort which Irish dwellings, particularly of the poor, seldom afford.

A closer view showed an approach to English neatness: a green paddock for a favourite horse or cow was on one side; and on the west, enjoying the shelter of the outhouses and trees, was a little garden for vegetables and flowers: whilst at the bottom of the slope, before the door, was an umbrageous thorn, protecting from the beams of the summer's sun a holy well; for all wells in Ireland are dedicated to some particular saint. It must be confessed, though the general appearance of Wilson's habitation conveyed ideas of industry, there yet remained too many proofs of culpable indolence. A cart, as it is called, truckle, was placed in the gap to perform the duties of a gate; and the exhalations of the dunghills rose to Heaven the tacit reprover of Jack's attachment to smoking and talking: still the little farm was yearly improving; the limestones were collected round the kiln, the ditches showed traces of recent repairs, and fields were ploughed that had lain fallow for ages. On the whole, the country people acknowledged that Jack was the most thriving man in the parish, for which he was indebted, they observed, to his good children, young Jack and Mary.

"Old Wilson had been married twenty years to a woman who brought him two children, a son and a daughter. The greater part of his life he was merely struggling with Fortune, wearing tattered clothes and living on potatoes; but, as his children approached to maturity, Mary, the daughter, was taken notice of by a family in the neighbourhood, who just stopped in the country long enough to

make the people feel the loss of their ry and her mother to all the horrors of

departure."

[She and her brother are thus raised a little above the mere herd; and a deserving young countryman, named Lambert, is betrothed to the excellent Mary.]

"They talked over what they should do in future, reckoned how easily they should pay their rent, and how good their children would be. The day being fixed for the ceremony, they went to town to purchase the wedding clothes, came home, and were the happiest people in the world over Wilson's fire-but never were happy more!

"Lambert had risen, with the intention of returning home: he had taken his hat, snatched a kiss from his intended bride, and was retreating hastily from her smiling displeasure, when he was forced back abruptly by the confused entrance of a number of men, whose faces were concealed by slouched hats, or so artfully blackened that they could not be recognized. Some of them had sticks, some rusty old guns, and others had swords of all shapes and countries. Their ultimate intention was evidently hostile, whilst their dress plainly evinced they were of the poorer class of people. One of them, who showed his importance by dropping his gun perpendicularly on the floor, and throwing his tall figure into an erect position, explained the reason of their visit. They were in search of arms; but, being strangers in that part of the country, they merely called to request Wilson to go with them to those houses in which he knew they were to be found. The whole family remonstrated against such a proceeding. Young Wilson had a gun, to which they were welcome; but to accompany men who were unknown, for the purpose of robbing those who were their neighbours, was a position in which Wilson desired not to be placed. Mary was terrified to silence; but her mother seconded her husband in refusing to go on so lawless an errand."

[ocr errors][merged small]
[ocr errors]

fear and apprehension. Every hour of the night was to them as tedious as the progress of the messenger who bears a reprieve to a convicted criminal: every blast of wind that shook the trees enticed Mary to the door to see if they were returning; but hour passed after hour, and no appearance of father, brother, or lover. The mother and daughter alternately wept and prayed: every saint in the calendar was invoked, and every future moment was expected to bring them home, whilst every disappointment either excited new hopes, or conjured up all the horrors which suspense creates in an alarmed imagination.

"The nocturnal marauders succeeded in gaining possession of some old and useless fire-arms, and were proceeding to a house at some distance, where they expected to find a large supply, when, having travelled about a mile and a half, their approach was noticed by a military party, 'who were out that night scouring, as the soldiers call it, the country. The commander of the detachment filed his men on each side of the road, with orders to close on the Whiteboys as they passed. Discipline is better than force or courage: the party came up; the soldiers obeyed the instructions of their superior; and the Whiteboys, not having either dicipline or prudence, resisted for a while with desperate energy, but were ultimately obliged to surrender to the methodical courage of the soldiers, who proceeded to count their prisoners aloud, and to take down, by a light which they struck, the name of each. Wilson' then found that his son and five others were killed in the affray.

"Mary's dreadful suspense was dissipated, the next morning, by a conviction of the melancholy truth. The whole country was in a state of alarming agitation; and, as Mary's sufferings were also those of others, she bore them with greater fortitude, in consequence of a participation of sorrow. She had lost her brother, but others had lost their fathers and husbands. Besides, the feelings of Mary for herself were comparatively trifling:

« PreviousContinue »