MARY AIKENHEAD.* THIS memoir, although too voluminous for most readers,

is interesting from more than one point of view. It gives not merely a graphic portraiture of a character which deserves to be studied, but also many lively sketches of Irish society in the closing days of the last and the early part of the present century, presented in an aspect which differs from that which we generally meet with. The subject of it was one of those ex- ceptional women who cannot fail of being distinguished in some particular line, and who rather bend circumstances to their reso- lute wills, than suffer themselves to be moulded and dwarfed by their surroundings. At the time when Mary Aikenbead was born, few things would have seemed less likely than that the daughter of the clever, kindly general practitioner of Cork, with whom, as with many others of his day, it was an article of faith that " Romanists were by nature an inferior order of beings," and. who held that to be " Protestant " meant to be "respectable," should ever become the foundress of an import- ant religious Order. For the doctor, upon his marriage with Mary Stacpoole, had expressly stipulated that whatever children Heaven might be pleased to send them should be brought up as members of the Church of England. Yet, so it was to be ; and the Irish Sisters of Charity, so well known in the orphanage, the school, the prison, the blind asylum, and the ward of the "hospital, owe not merely their existence, but we may say their

• Mary eitleahead. Dublin M. H. OM and Son. London : Burin and Oates.

permanent well-being, to the generous heart and wise head of a young lady who, firmly resolved to devote herself to the service of God in his poor, conceived that she could do so with greater efficiency by uniting her individual efforts with those of others in a community. With the religious aspect of the question, we have nothing to do; but it may be remarked, en pageant, that Dr. Murray, afterwards Roman Catholic Archbishop of Dublin, a most zealous man and an excellent judge of character, was not mistaken when he selected Mary Aikenhead to inaugurate a work which was especially dear to him, and with which his name will ever be inseparably connected.

The reader cannot fail to take an interest in the charitable institutions, more particularly that of St. Vincent's Hospital, which sprang up and developed themselves under the auspices of Mrs. Aikenhead,—" the great old mother," as she was called. in after-life, by some of those who knew her best, as well as in the picture which the author gives us of the woman herself, who was so unwilling to be placed in a position of authority, but proved in the sequel to be pre-eminently qualified to lead and govern others. Notwithstanding her dignified appearance, which was always remarked upon by strangers, the "rev, mother" was always ready to perform, if necessity required it, the most arduous or most menial offices. In the early days of the Institute, she was Superior, she was novice-mistress, she went upon the sick mission, and on her return from her round of the back- lanes of Dublin would take up the work of any sick or ailing sister, and not unfrequently even cook the dinner. On one occasion, we are told that, the community being absent, Mrs.

Aikenhead thought it would be a good opportunity for scrubbing down the stairs, and was busily at work, her sleeves turned up, her long skirt pinned back, and a capacious checked apron covering her dress, when a ring at the door summoned her from the pail, and she found herself face to face with a right reverend prelate inquiring for the Mother Superior. She at once ushered

in the visitor and retired, saying the reverend mother would be with him presently; and having doffed the apron and remodelled her costume, became speedily transformed from the hard-work- ing serving sister into the gracious, dignified personage, well known to many of the elite of Dublin society. A lady who

afterwards became a member of the Sisterhood expressed her astonishment, on paying a visit to the Superior, at finding her engaged in some humble employment. "It is very little matter what we are doing for God, provided we are doing it in the best possible way we can," was the answer; and Mrs. Aikenhead,was never tired of inculcating the duty of being always employed, and the necessity of doing everything well. "We must try,"

she would say, "to keep from being of the tribe of Mesdames Do-nothing, or even of the Mesdames Do-little, for we have work

enough on hand everywhere, and you know that 'Idlers ought not to have place in our Houses,' which ought to be busy bee- hives. Yet you know full time is due to everything, down to

the boiling of an egg." Mrs. Aikenhead had a strong sense

of the ridiculous, and could thoroughly enjoy a bit of fun, and would give most humourous answers to any who showed a tend- ency to exaggerated sentiment or mistaken religious feeling, while

her care for those who served her was unremitting ; and it was said by Dr. Ferrall, who had ample opportunities of knowing what she was, that "she had a heart as big as the Rotundo, and a head to match." Before her time, there was no Order in Ireland, nor ever had there been one, which united outside charitable work with the religious life; and the idea, when first started, was considered utopian. No wonder, therefore, that amongst the poorer classes, "the walking nuns" were looked upon with astonishment as well as veneration, and many were the ex- clamations that would be heard as they passed along the streets : —" Biddy ; run. Here's the new nuns comin'. Oh, ain't they lovely crathurs ! Thanks be to God, I seen that sight ! " Or another would exclaim, "Oh, then, I'm after seem' a sight I never thought I'd live to see ! I seen the blessed angels in the lane ! They're heavenly crathurs. One of them has rosy cheeks. Oh my goodness, here they arc ! Bill, run, run ! don't wait for your coat, or they'll be gone ! Look at the shoes and. stockings, like my poor gran' used to wear. Lord rest her soul ! They're asking for Granny Mac. Look ! did you ever see the likes of them, beyant England P" And if it should happen that any one did not clear the way quickly enough before them, or was wanting in respect in the slightest degree, he was sure to meet with condign punishment at the hands of the irate and. able-bodied Dublin women. A great many telling anecdotes are given of Mrs. Aikenhead in her out-door as well as in her convent-

life, and much that is interesting is also told of her friends and supporters, as well as of the works carried on in the twenty foundations of the nobly self-sacrificing Irish Order. It would take too long to indicate a tithe of the points of interest in the volume, but we must draw the reader's attention to the charming passages which describe the life of the little girl, first on Eason's Hill, where, under the care of her foster-parents, John and Mary Rorke, she passed her six earliest years ; and afterwards in the house of her father, to which she was accompanied by the faithful nurse and her husband. "Miss Mary," though "a little lady every inch of her," was not at all troubled by pride, and would run to meet Shawn, the coal-porter, twining her arms round his dusty sleeve, and listening with delight to his songs and stories ; while she would also visit quite an extensive circle of acquaintances of the same class, who, as a matter of course, treated her as a little queen. Nor did she ever forget her humble adorers. Years after- wards, when recalled to her native city to found a convent of Sisters of Charity, Mrs. Aikenhead., alighting at the house of the Bishop, percieved John Rorke at the hall door, ready to have the first word with "Miss Mary." "Time, and place, and the Rev. Motherhood were," says the writer, all forgotten in a moment. "0 daddy .John!" she cried, and throwing her arms round his neck, she kissed her dear old foster-father; while the Bishop's servant, who stood by, his best manners on, and wholly unpre- pared for this scene, lifted up his hands in amazement, to see the greeting which took place between Daddy John and the great "Mother Abbess" from Dublin.

The picture which is given of Cork in the days of Mary Aikenhead's childhood, with its gay confusion of trees, bridges, ships, and the abodes of men, looking like "a cluster of houses huddled together in a picturesque swamp, and holding their ground for the bare life against a river, which, spreading out into wide arms, numerous lesser branches, and stealthy canals, seemed to bend its course with no other view than to circumvent the buildings," is not without attraction ; although life in the southern capital can not have always been very pleasant, since a high tide sent the water up to the door-steps of many of the houses, and on those occasions business engagements and evening parties alike necessitated a short voyage :—

" A free and easy style characterised," we are told, "the life of all the citizens, rich and poor, young and old. The children enjoyed almost as much liberty as the grown people. They went and came very much as they liked ; made their way to school unattended by nurses or foot- men; and were free of the city except on Wednesdays and Satur- days, when they might ran the risk of being tripped up by the swinish multitude or tossed over a bridge by the horned cattle. If they missed their way, some good Christian—a soldier, perhaps, or a countryman—brought them to the paternal dwelling; and in the evening, when it was time to get the children to bed, the domestics, if they did not find the young people in the house, went out to look for them in the neighbouring mansions. The children were perfectly safe, the town was not of such monstrous extent but that every one knew the citizens' boys and girls, and none were so busy or so indifferent as not to take notice of the juvenile members of the community, when they came in the way. Hot-house rearing was not approved of for these olive-branches, and truth to say, they flourished in their open-air existence, not but that the little lads and lasses had betimes their high-class entertainments, a mimic of the pastime of their elders. Once or twice, perhaps, in the year they were dressed out as little ladies and gentlemen,—the girls an exquisite redaction of Gainsborough's 'Pastoral Maids,' or Sir Joshua's Dames of High Estate the boys, a mirror of Court costume, powdered and periwigged, buckled and ruffled, with their embroidered waistcoats, silk stockings, and silver snuff-boxes. Thus elaborately got up, the miniature madams and the Lilliput sirs were conveyed in sedan chairs to the juvenile fancy balls, which afforded nearly as much amusement to the assembled fathers and mothers as to the youthful actors in the scene."

And then we have some account of the events of '98, and how Lord Edward Fitzgerald, in the garb of a Quaker, was very near being taken at the house of David Aikenhead, who, not- withstanding the ultra-loyal atmosphere in which he had been

brought up, was actually so far carried away by the local enthusiasm as to have become one of the United Irishmen. Whoever may be the "S. A." to whom we are indebted for the biography of Mary Aikenhead, she has presented us with a work of considerable interest, although at the same time, as we Muted at starting, it would have been none the worse, or rather we may say, considerably the better, for a little judicious condensation.