and executed with considerable knowledge, pathos, and power. The characters,

the scenes, the incidents of daily occurrence in having ascertained that all was right he proceeded immediately- to business. Ireland, arc painted with spirit and truth ; and so well connected " Rousin' Redhead, what's the raison you didn't take arms from Captain St. with the story, that they retain a strictly individual air whilst pre- Ledger's stewart ? Sixteen inen armed was enough to it, an' yees tidied." scanting a general picture. A pmtsant usurer, an incendiary fire, a " Ay, an' if you had been wedus, and sixteen more to the back o' that, you'd fail too. Begarra, Captain dear; it seems that good people is scarce. Look trial, an abduction, an execution, a gang of Itibbonmen, and other teristics. divarsion, it might let you know how he lost it. Bartle, I tell you, a number Although the interest of the novel arises from the love of Con- nor and Una, crossed by the avarice of his father, and severely troubled, almost to death, by the arts and villany of a rival, yet caged, now ;* faix 1 don't sleep in a barn, and can't budge us I used to do." the character of Fardorougha " the Miser" is the pivot upon which " An' who's tyin' you to your place, thin ?" the whole may be said to turn. Childless fbr the first fourteen "Rouser," replied Bartle, I wish I had a thousand like you, not but I have years of his marriage, his heart and his future hopes became fixed fine fellows. Boys, the truth is this, you must all meet here to-morrow night, upon the accumulation of money ; and though his late-born son Connor divided and almost triumphed over his ruling passion, he she's willin' to come." coutinued to gratify his avarice, on the self-deceiving plea that he " Willin'l why," replied Bartle, "it's by her own appointment we're goin"." was gaining and saving for his child. With this ostensible view, "An' if it is, then," said the Rouser, who, in truth, was the leader of the he degenerates into a hard, griping, money-lending farmer, defeat- suspicious and disaffected party in Flanagan's Lodge, " what the blazes use have ing his dearest purposes by his vice. The superior character of

Roush' Redhead," said Bartle, casting a suspicious and malignant glance his wife, sustained and elevated by strong religious feeling, and the at him, " 'night 1 take the liberty of axin' what you mane by speaking of me in gentle but manly character of his son, enable them to escape the that disparagin' "manner? Do you remimber your Oath? or do you forget that unpopularity of Fordorougha himself. But, by turning the family you are bound by it to meet at twelve hours notice or less, whinever you're of a debtor upon the world, the Miser is the means of introducing called upon. Mar Chriestba i man, if I hear another word of the kind out o' his son's secret rival into his house and confidence, and Of height- your lips, down you "o on the black list. Boys," he proceeded, with n wheed1' ,„ look of good humour to the rest, we'll have neither Spies our Stags ening the danger of the lover by the vengeance of the ruined man. here, come or go what may." By refusing to advance a portion to his son, he breaks off his "Stags," replied Rousin Redhead, whose face had already become scarlet marriage ; gives his secret enemy the opportunity, in his character with indignation, " stags, you say, Bartle Flanagan! Arrah boys, 1 wondhce of go-between, of firing the haggard of his betrothed's father, where is poor Connor O'Donovan by this time?" and fastening the crime upon Connor. And he does not even "I suppose buskin' it ,direr now," observed our friend Dandy Duffy, whif- fing his pipe. "1 bushed it myself for a year an' a halt; but be Japers, I got retain his wealth, for his banker runs off with it,—a sort of sick of it. But any how, Bartle, you ougtn't to speak of Stags, for although " judgment," however, and savouring too much of accident to Connor refused to juin us, you had no right to go intern upon him. Sure, only well correspond with the connexion of cause and consequence in for the intherest that was made for him you'd have hi, blood on your sowl." the other incidents. "An' if he had itself," observed one of Flanagaiiis friends, " 't would signify How fair a peculiar character can be pronounced natural, is always very little. The Bodagh desarved what he got, and more if he bad got it. What right has he, one of our own purswadjiou as he is, to hould out egoist us a vexed question. There can be no doubt, however, that Fordo- the way he does ? Sure lie's as rich as a Sassenach, of diva reave the farden roughs is conceived with great metaphysical skill, and executed he'll subscribe towards out gettin' arms or ammunition, or towards difendia' with exact consistency. The slow growth of his avarice, his mental us when we're brought to thrial. To hell's delights wid the dirty Budagb, says conflict on the birth of his son, and the way in which his self- myself for one."

bating the courage of SIIA KSPEIIE.S. lie has also compunctious La sup sorrow thr his harshness to your linker and tinnily." touches of conscience, which the other was not troubled with "An' didn't he deserve it, Ned ? Didn't he ruin us."

deficient in the intellect of the Italian. But in ready hypocrisy, ivife always sot their faces aginst his loins."

himself to Connor. In indicating his nature to the reader, Mr. " What other, Bartle ? Caosterost has managed it in such a way that it ought to have thera's any thing on your mind that wants absolution, look to it." * * events or describing scenery and persons. Ilis dialogue often obstructing the propagation of the general principle.

tions were sacrificed to that of tilling a periodical quantity of IRISH NOTIONS Or MURDER.

space. " But is there nothin' else on your mind, Connor:"

ours without any regard to the story, or to those passages which in

the Captain, for such was Bartle Flanagan, who now entered the house, and " The villain," said Connor, " will be too deep—too polished for you."

" Begud, boys," he said, our four guards widout is worth any money. I had consequently could nut stop out at night without observation.

• The Dublin University Magazine—Bic Blackwood of Ireland. when some dreadful purpose is determined on.

to pass the signword afore I could pass myself, and that's the way it ought to the rowl. You'll stand in a row roan' the walls, an' thin we can make sure that there's no spies among us." lIe then called out the roll of those who were members of his Lodge, and of us isn't satisfied wid you. You send us out to meet danger, an' you won't tow yourself."

"Don't you know, Rouser, that I always do go whenever I call, but l'm for the short an' long of it is that I'm pin' to run away Avid a wife."

" Weil," replied Redhead, "sure you can do that NV id011t our assistance, if

u

yo" for us? "

deception grows during Connor's childhood, till it rivals parental "An' is that by way of defince of Captain Bartle Flanagan ?" inquired Rousin Redhead indignantly. " Au' so our worthy Captain slut the man affection, is described with great nicety. The manner in which his aerass that punished our inimy, even accordion to your own provid, and that avarice shows itself, either in his calmer remarks, his occasional dif- by staygin' against him. or worse, had the misers son been one of Luz, ferences with his wife, his pure fury at his loss, or his agony fur Bartle's brains would be scatthered to the four quartheresof heaven long his departed Money and endangered son, till the last feeling agone." swallows up the others, is developed in dialogue with unrivalled "Ate how did I know but he'd stag aginst me," said Bartle very calmly.•"Dam' well you know he would not," observed Ned M'Cormtck, now en-

force, and with every appearance of truth. couraged by the bold and decided manner of Roush' Redhead. "Before ever

Bartle Flanagan, the villain of the tale, is a species of Irish Ingo, .ou went into Fardorougha's service you sed to more than one that you' make

and, after every allowance for ditibrence of station and country, he is " He might deserve it, an' 1 suppose did ; but what right had you to punish the innocent for the guilty ? You /mews very well that both as sou an' his

malignant revenge, and a resolute indifference to cruelty and crime, "Boys," said Flannagan, " I don't undherstand this, and I tell you more, I mingled with a gross superstition, he could not be matched by any won't bear it. This night let any of you that doesn't like to be undher ins say country, except perhaps Spain. Yet is there little in him exagge- so. Rousin Redhead, you'll never meet in a Ribbon Lodge agin. You're rated or overdone ; unless it be that lie does not sufficiently cloak scratched out of one book," but by way of comfort you're down iu another.'

" The Black List. An' now I have nothiu' more to say, except that if A excited suspicion in his victim. "n so you're gone to put my flither down on the Mark list," said the

The lovers of this tale arc less insipid than is usual in fictions ; beetle-browed son of Rouser. Very well, Bartle, do so; but do you see that," perhaps from the circumstances in which they are placed' and be added, pointing to the sign of the coffin and ci,- bones which he had the addition of the national to the individual character. The previously drawn upon the slate ; "Am. an sphirit -Vretst if you do you'll waken some ""ruin in a warmer countley than Ireland."

hero, probably, is too much of a hero—too good. A similar " Very well," said Bartle, quietly, bet evidently shrinking from a threat remark may apply to his mother, whose sentiments seem occa- nearly as fearful, and fitr more daring than his own, "you know I have nothiu' sionallv beyond her station and the effects of surrounding influences. to do except my ditty. Yes arc pin' aginst the CAuse, an' I must report yes;; This, flowever, is only now and then ; and the manner in which the Mittel- that whatever happens won't conic from me, nor from any one here. It Lisle woman colours the feelings of the mother, is truly marked is from thins that's in higher quarthers you'll get your doom, au' not from me, or, as I said afore, from any one here. 3i:irk that ; but indeed you know it as throughout. Indeed this is the ease with all the persons in the tale: well 1 do, an' I believe, Rouser, a good deal betther." they are not merely Irish in language, but in thought, feeling, and Flanagan's argument, to men who understand its dreadful import, was one conduct. before which almost every description of personal courage must quail. Persons The excellence of Mr. C.slILHTON as a writer is rather dramatic uvre then present, Rousin Redlwad among the rest, who Mid been sent upon than narrative. We do not mean by this that. his scenes are some of those midnight missions, which contumacy against the system, when operating hi its cruelty, had occasioned. Persons of humane disposition de- wrought up to the action of a play, but that. he excels much more elining to act in these sanguinary villanies are generally the first to lie sacrificed, in dialogue, Mended with short description, than in recounting tie, as in the case of the execrable Inquisition, individual life is nothing when

reads like a transcript from life ; his descriptions are generally li- One of the most curious features in the Irish character is, not a to. tend and laboured, more like the catalogue of a slopseller or sur- tar insensibility to right and wrong, but a total insensibility to what veyor, than a spirited sketch of men or objects, in which all but reason determines to be wrong, and the coolness with which crime, the characteristic features are disregarded. The length of his re- even murder itself, is committed under such impulses, by men flections gives them an air of heaviness ; and some of the earlier otherwise of good conduct and good feeling. This trait is strongly chapters are rather spun out,—a circumstance caused perhaps by marked in an interview in gaol between Connor and all old farm- their original appearance in a Magazine,* where other considera- servant of his fitther.

As extracts can rarely convey an idea of a fiction, we shall take " There's no heavy guilt on my mind, Nogher; I thank my God and my

dear mother for the volume would be them ist interesting. " Wrell, I can tell you one thing before you go, Connor—Bartle Flanagan's well watched. If he hiss been guilty—if—derry downs, who doubts it ?—

A MEETING OP HIBBONMEN. well—never mind ; I'll hould a trifle we get him to show the cloven foot, and These amusements were resorted to while waiting for the Article Bearer, or condemn himself, yet."

saluted all present with great cordiality. • Meaning, that in his present service he slept in the dwelling.honse, and that he' t The liana, of the Third Person of the Trinity is seldom sworn by iu Ireland, unless " Ten to one he's not. Do you know what we've found out since this busi- ness ? "

" No."

" Why divil resave the squig of punch, whiskey, or liquor of any sort or size he'll allow to pass the lips of him. Now, Connor, aren't you up to the cunnin' villany of the thraitor in that maynewvre ? " " I am, Nogher ; I see his design in it. He is afeard if he got drunk that he might n't be able to keep his own secret." " Ah, thin by the holy Nelly, we'll steep him yet, or he'll look sharp. Never you mind him, Connor.' "Nogher I stop," said Connor, almost angrily, " stop ; what do you inane by them last words ? " " Divil a much ; it's about the blaggard I'm spakhe ; he'll be Red I can tell you. There's a few friends of yours that intinds, some o' these nights, to also his windpipe a little ; the divil a thing more." " What! to take the unhappy males life ?—to murder him ? "

" Hut, Connor ; who's spakne about murdher ? No, only to make him miss his breath some night afore long. Does he deserve mercy that 'ud swear away the life of an innocent Mall?" " Nogher," replied the other, rising up and speaking with the utmost so- lemnity—

" If one drop of his blood is spilled on my account, it will bring the ven-

geance of Heaven upon the head of every man havin' a hand in it. bring you, because lie's a villain, make yourselves murderers ?—make yourselves blacker than he is ? "

" Why, thin, death alive, Connor, have you .your seven stasis about you ? Faith that's good, as if it was a sin to knock sick a white-livered Judas upon the head I Sill I—oh devil a morsel o' sin's in that, but the contrairy. Sure it's only sarvin' honest people right, to knock such a desaiver on the head. If he had perjured himself for the sake of the thruth, or to assist a brother in throuble, or to help on the good cause, it would be something; but to go to- hut—arra, be my cowl, he'll sup sarra for it, sure enough ! I thought it would make your mind aisy, or I wouldn't mintion it till we'd let the breath out of him."

" Nogher," said Connor, " beforeyon leave this unfortunate room, you must take the Almighty to witness that you'll have no hand in this bloody business, an' that you'll put a stop to it altogether. If you don't, and that Ids life is taken, in the first place, I'll he miserable for life, and in the next, take my word for it, that the judgment of God will fall heavily upon every one consarned in it."

" What for ? is it for slittin' the juggler of sich a rip ? Is'nt he as bad as a heretic, an' worse, for lie turned agmst his own. He has got himself made the head of a lodge, too, and houlds Articles ; but it's not bear' an Article- bearer that'll save him, an' he'll find that to his cost. But, indeed, Connor, the villain's a double thraitor, as you'd own, if you lumen what I hard a hint of?"

This is an example of another kind—a mixture of humour and pathos.

THE MISER'S DEATH.

"Is my boy comhe ? " he said, in a thin, wiry, worn voice, but in words which, to any person near him, were as distinct almost as ever ; " is my boy Connor comm'? "

" I am here father," replied Connor, who had just entered the room ; " sure I am always with you." "You are, you are," said he, "you were ever an' always good. Give me your hand, Connor," Connor did so.

"Connor, darlin," he proceeded, "don't be like me. I loved money too much; I set my heart on it, an' you know how it was taken away from me. The priest yestherday laid it upon me, out of regard to my reignite sin, as he called it, to advise you, afore I'd die, aginst lovin' the wealth o' this world too much."

" I hope I never will, father. Your own misfortune ought to be a warnin' to me."

"Ay, you may say that; it's I indeed that was misfortunate ; but it was all through F—, an' that nest o' robbers, the Isle o' Man."

"Don't think of him or it now, my dear father, don't be discomposin' your mind about them."

" He was a villin', a deep villin' ; but that's not the thing. Your mother was spakhe to the priest about masses for my sowl. Now Connor, I know that they'll take far less than they'll ax. I know that ; for I remember bathe down Father Fogarty myself, from two-an'-sixpence a mass to a shine ; it was for my own father's soul, an' I saved the price of a pair o' shoes by it, and had the same number o' masses sed still. That was makin' a bargain the right way." Connor and his mother exchanged a melancholy glance, and the latter, who, on witnessing his frame of mind, could not help sledding bitter tears, said to him—" Fartiorougha, dear, Fardorougha astore machree, won't you be guided by me ? You're now onyou're deathbed, an' think of God's marcy—it's that you stand most in need of'. Sure, avourneen, if you had all the money you ever had, you couldn't bring .a penny of it where you're goite."

"Well, but I'm his Connor an advice that'll carve -Sure I'm not biddhe him to set Ins heart on it, for I tould the priest I wouldn't ; but is that any raison why he'd not save it ? I didn't tell the priest that I wouldn't bid him do flint."

"Father,' said Connor, "for the love of God put these thoughts out of your head and mind."

" So, Connor, dear," proceeded the old man, not attending to him ; " in makin' a bargain wid the priest bate him down, or he'll do you, an' iii makin' any bargain, Connor, be sure to make as hard a one; as you can : but for all that be honest, an' never find a penny o' money widout intherest and good security."

" I think he's wandherin'," whispered his mother. " Oh grant it nifty be so, merciful Jesus, this day !" " Honor aliagur." " Well, &whit', what is it ?

"There's another thing that throubles me ; I laver knew what it was to feel myself far from my own till now." "How is that, dear ? "

"My bones won't rest in my own counthry ; I won't sleep wid them that belong to me. How will I die in a sthrange grave, an' in a far land ? Oh will no one bring me back to my own ! " The untutored sympathies of neither wife nor son could resist this beautiful and affecting trait of nature, and the undying love of one's own land, emanat- ing as it did, so unexpectedly, from a heart otherwise insensible to the ordinary tendernesscs of life.

" Sure you are at home, avourneen," said Honor ; an' will rest wid your friends and relations that have gone before you." "No," said he, "I'm not ; I'm far away from them ; but now I feel more comforted; I have one will Inc that's dearer than them all. Connor and I will deep together ; won't we, Connor ? " This affectionate transition from every other earthly object to himself, so powerfully smote the son's heart, that he could not reply. " What ails him, Connor? " said his wife. "Help me to keep up his bead-. Saver above! "

Connor raised his head, but saw at a glance that the last struggle in the old man's heart was over. The miser was no more.

Mr. CARLETON, we see, announces the Chronicles of Barna- cruisheen, in monthly parts—probably after the example of Boa. To insure any thing like the success of Pickwick, however, we should recommend him to render his descriptions more sketchy and striking ; to be more sparing of his reflections, if he cannot so put his points as to force the reader to reflect for himself; and to • aim at condensation and rapidity in the earlier parts of his work, betbre sufficient is known of the characters and story to excite the reader's attention. "In merlins res" applies to all fictions. We arc only interested in what we know.