e UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES p s.a.m:tj3el. loader, -. ,:i!l!.illlili!ili,iii;:illl!l iiiiii;iii;i:i,iHi:i:ii,ii,iHi;ii;iiiii!ii!iiiiiii;iiiiiiiiiiiii SAMUEL LOVEE % jBiograpljical Skctcl) WITH SELECTIONS FROM HIS WRITINGS AND CORRESPONDENCE BY ANDREW JAMES SYMmGTON, F.R.S.KA. NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 18 80 143424 * .. • • • « ♦ • « • • o TO ROBERT ANGUS SMITH, F.RS., Ph.D., &c. &c. &c., An old and faithkdl Friend, NO LESS distinguished FOR GOODKESS OF HEART AND ORIGINALITY OF THOUGHT IN many walks of general human interest, th^vn for eminence in his own special department of Chemical Science, THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED BY ONE WHO HAS INTIMATELY KNOWN HIM FROM EARLY SCHOOL DAYS. A. J. S. Langtide, Glasgow. V PREFACE, )Vv Painter, Etcher, Lyric Poet, Musical-composer, Executant, Novelist, and Dramatist ! Such an enumeration of amateur accomplishments, to say nothing of a formidable array of well- earned and acknowledged professional designations, seldom -v^ falls to the lot of one man. Yet these were, each and all, fairly 'v won by the late Samuel Lover, a brilliant, modest, self- ^ reliant Irishman, who — dowered with versatile genius and a capacity for work — was every whit as good, genial, and lov- able, as he was largely and rarely gifted. In any one of these walks, apart from the others, he occu- pied a position which would have been sufficient for ordinary fame. Although not now generally known to the public, his highest art achievements were his Miniature Portraits; for various reasons, however, it is chiefly through his charming and inimitable Irish peasant songs, — with their unique blend of love, pathos, and humour, — that his name will live. Materiel for this volume, relating to one whose cordial friendly intercourse with us was only severed by death, has been slowly accumulating in our hands, from time to time, during the last ten years. While preserving inviolate what is due to privacy, infor- mation has been gleaned, or exti'acts given, from over sixty of Mr. Lover's letters addressed to the writer; other MS. cor- respondence, kindly placed at his disposal for this purpose, has also been carefully gone over. By permission of Mrs. Lover, ten poems, taken from a MS. volume left by Mr. Lover, are here presented for the firat time. Several posthumous Poems, prose Stories, and other ex- tracts, are also, by her permission, taken from Mr. Bailey 11 PREFACE. Bernard's Life of Saimiel Lover, issued by Messrs. Henry S. King & Co. — a cai-efiilly written, but somewhat bulky work, which has left room for a shorter Life containing fresh matter. We gratefully acknowledge obligations to Mrs. Lover for much valuable assistance of various kinds, access to her late husband's correspondence and MSS., together with such infor- mation and explanations as she alone could furnish. We quote several poems, contributed by Lover to The Lyrics of Ireland, published by Houlston and Wright, wliich volume was edited by hiui; and some prose extracts are made from the First and Second Series of his Legends and Stories of Ireland, published by Baldwin and Cradock. In addition to these, we are indebted to Messrs. George Eoutledge and Sons, tlie publishers of the latest edition of Lover's Poetical Worls, for permission to give, at full length, half a dozen of his Songs, and an extract from Handy Andy. This little book — written about a dear friend, whose whole life was as pure as his gifts were great — we diffidently send forth, sincerely desiring that Lover's exemplary perseverance, courage, reverence, conscientious patient goodness, and hopeful buoyant brightness, may, in some degree, influence and cheer despondent toilers, young or old, who, it may be, are now in these hard times wearily fighting the battle of life. A. J. S. Langside, Glasgow. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Page Childhood— Early Days— Art Longings: 1797-1817, ... 9 Characteristics— Birth— Early Training and Musical Taste— School Days— Delicate as a Child— Year in the Country— Mother's Death —Health Restored — Education — Uncongenial Office Work — Father's Injudicious Repression— Abandons Home to Study Paint- ing—Dublin Society— Paris and Dublin— Early Attachment- Marine Subjects and Jliniature Painting. CHAPTER II Professional Life— Literary Efforts— Marriage : 1818- 1829, 17 Marine and Miniature Painter— Sings at Moore's Banquet— Intro- duced to the Moores— Earliest Literary Efforts— "The Gridiron" —Lover in Society— Burschenschaft and Glee Clubs— His Mar- riage—First Drama— Chosen Secretary of R.H.A. CHAPTER IIL Stories: 1830-1832, 29 Irish Horn Book— First Series of Legends and Stories of Ireland- Paddy the Piper. CHAPTER IV. Miniature Painting — Removal to London — In Society: 1832-1837 39 Paganini Miniature— Duke of Wellington— Royal Hibernian Aca- demy Exhibitions— Russell Moore— Removal to London— In Lon- don Society— Allan Cunningham— Evening Receptions— Malibran IV CONTENTS. Page —Sydney Smith— Lover's numour— Hard Work— His Position as a Painter— Brougham— The Iniliau Moulvie—Thalberg— Fancy Subjects. CHAPTER V. Literature — Song — Drama — Personal Appearance — Story: 1834-1837, 45 Second Series of Tales and legends-Dublin University Magazine— Bentley's Miscellany— Songs and Dramas for Madame Vestris— The Angel's Wliisper— P>,ory O'More, a Novel ; Dramatized- Song from Tlie White Horse of Peppers— Other Dramas— Frazer and Blackwood— Personal Appearance— Story of Baruy O'Keirdon. CHAPTER VI. Lover's Songs: 1836-1841, 90 Song-writing— Open Vowels— Slusical Rhythm— Burns and Moore — Lover's English and Irish Songs— Rory O'JIore introduces a New Era — Its Popularity — Followed by others of similar Character — Purity and Refinement — Melodies and Accompani- ments—His Own Voice— Various Songs Particularized— The Road of Life. CHAPTER VIL Novels — Failing Eyesight — Irish Entertainment — Stories: 1842-1846, 112 Handy Andy— Dr. R. Shelton Mackenzie's Account of it— Treasure Trove — Failing Eyesight— Irish Entertainment in London — In the Provinces— Bulls and Blunders— St. Patrick and the Sarpent— It's Mighty Improvin'-The Irish Post-boy. CHAPTER VIIL American Visit: 1846-1848, 129 Purpose — Sets Sail — Introductions— Climate and Sketching— New York — Boston — American Humour — Indian Summer — Deatliuf his Wife — At Washington — Sleighing — The South— Savannah— Stage Coach— New Orleans— Mississippi and Ohio— Niagara— Islands— Rapids— War Ship of Peace— Final Excursion to the Lakes- Odd Inducement to Settle in America — The Backwoodsman — Laurel Hill. CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. Page Retdrn from America — New Entertainments — Stories — Death of his Daughter: 1848-1851, 145 Material of New Entertainments— Specimens— Story of The Skeered Dog— Tlie Trunk— Dublin Porters, Carmen, and Waiters —The Irish Brigade— Paddy at Sea— Letter to Mrs. H.— Entertainments ended by the Death of his Daughter. CHAPTER X. His Second Marriage — Happy Home-life in the Country — Various Occupations — Burns' Festival — Rival Rhymes — Correspondence: 1852-1864, 165 Marriage— Settles near London— Oil-Painting— Country Life at Eal- ing, Barnes, and Sevenoaks— Pension— How to Play the Har- monium-Versatile Genius— Lyrics of Ireland — Burns' Centenary Festival— Sings Rory O'More to Warehouse Girls- Rival Rhymes —A Spirit Lay after Campbell— Volunteer Movement— Metrical Tales— Extracts from Letters. CHAPTER XL Health Suddenly Breaks Down — Lover and Moore Compared— Semi-invalid Life at Sevenoaks and Isle of Wight— Letters : 1864-1866, 184 First Serious Illness— Visit to Lover— Letter with Estimate of him- self as compared with Moore— Repeated Attacks and Rally ings — Intention to Visit Scotland — Letters in which he mentions David Roberts, Edward Forbes, &e.— Goes to Isle of Wight— Oil- Painting— Purposes Visiting his Daughter in Germany— Season unusually Cold— Leaves Isle of Wight for Jersey. CHAPTER XII. Jersey — Reading and Occupation — Correspondence — Attacks of Illness — Posthumous Poems — Letter on Hymnology — Ten Poems now Printed for the First Time: 1866-1868, 204 Description of Jersey — St. Heliers— Reading — Victor Hugo — Im- proved Health— Visits, Occupations, and Letters— Posthumous VI CONTENTS. Page Poems— The Irish Mermaid— On Certain Critics— Loom and Loam — To a Quill Pen— Attacks of Illness— Letter on Ilymnology— Havergal's Poems— The Irish Harp— Poems Hitherto Unpublished —Why should Love Inflict a Wound?— Mermaid's Song— One, Two, Three— Bank Failure— I am Free— Lines for Song or Duet— Shakspere Prophetic— My Heart has Wings- Baby Dear— Jottings from Note-book— Lines to Dr. Joseph Dickson. CHAPTER XIII. L.\ST Six Months op his Life spent in Jersey — Failing Health — The only True Source of Comfort— His Death— Funeral— Tablet in St. Patrick's, Dublin — Conclusion: 1868, 245 Increasing Debility— Hopeful yet Resigned— Letter to Rev. E. H. Nelson— Trust in his Saviour— Lover's Dream— His Last Occupa- tions—His Death— Mrs. Lover's Touching Account of his last Illness— Interment at Kensal Green Cemetery, London— London Irish Volunteers attend Funeral— Tablet in St. Patrick's, Dublin— His deep Religious Feeling— Estimate of Character— His Memory Cherished— His Irish Sougs soi-e to live. Sb:LECT10NS FEOM LOVER'S WRITINGS IN VERSE AND PROSE. The Sonr/s and Stories distinguished by an asterisk (*) are quoted in full. *i Page My Mother Dear, 12 My Mountain Home, - - - - - - - 12 Election of a Poet-laureate for Olympus, - - - - 17 The Gridiron, or Paddy Mullowney's Travels in France (Prose), 20 *Paddy the Piper (Prose), 30 *The Angel's Whisper, 46 *The Guide's Song, 48 *Barney O'Reirdon the Navigator (Prose), - - - - 51 *Rory O'More; or, Good Omens, - - - - - 95 *MollyCarew, 99 I'm not Myself at all, 101 Pastoral Rhapsody, -------- 102 *Widow Machree, 103 What will ye do. Love? 104 Come Live in my Heart and Pay no Rent, - - - 105 Kitty Maclure, 106 Cupid's First Dip, 106 Cupid's Wing, 107 Sally, 107 *How to Ask and Have, 108 My Native Town, 109 I'll never forget that. Ma'am, 110 Mary of Tipperary, 110 *The Road of Life, or Song of the Irish Post-boy, - - 111 Icing the Champagne (from "Handy Andy") — Prose, - 119 Bulls and Blunders (Prose), 123 *St Patrick and the Sarpent: A Guide's Story (Prose), - 124 *It's mighty Improvin' (Prose), 126 *The Irish Post-boy (Prose), 127 The Indian Summer, 132 VIU . SELECTIONS. rage Slaying the Deer, 133 Niagara (Prose), - - - - - - - - 136 *Tlie Backwoodsman (I'rose), ...... 139 *Laurel Hill (Prose), 142 *The American Story of the Skeered Dog (Pi-ose), - - 14G *The Trunk, 147 *Dublin Porters, Carmen, and Waiters (Prose), - - - 148 From The Irish Brigade — The Yellow Domino (Prose), - 151 *Paddy at Sea (Prose), 154 Rival Rhymes, --------- 173 Spirit Lay from Hades (after Thomas Campbell), - - 174 Father Roach — described, - - - - - - -178 Something Worth Having, 191 Where to go to — St. Heliers, 205 *The Irish Mermaid, -------- 210 *0n Certain Critics, 211 The Lay of the Loom and the Loam, - - - - 213 *To a Quill Pen, - . - 226 The Irish Harp (Prose), 230 Ten Poems now fii-st Published from Mr. Lover's MS. — *Why should Love inilict a Wound? - - - - 237 *One, Two, or Three, 238 ♦Mermaid's Song, 239 *0n the Gigantic Failure of the Banking House of Overend, Gurney, & Co., 240 *I am Free, 240 ♦Lines for a Song or Duet, 240 *Shakspere Prophetic, ------- 242 *My Heart has Wings, 242 *Baby Dear. Cradle Song of the Buccaneer's Wife, - 243 Jottings from Lover's Note Book (Prose), - - - 244 ♦Lines to Dr. Joseph Dickson of St. Heliers, Jersey, - 245 The Dream (Prose). Lover's last composition, now first published, 249 The Lay of an Irish Minstrel, - 250 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVEE, E.H.A, CHAPTER I. 1797-1817 : Childhood— Early Days— Abt-longings. Characteristics— Birth— Early Training and Musical Taste— School Days- Delicate as a Child— Year in the Country— Mother's Death— Health Restored— Education— Uncongenial Office Work— Father's Injudicious Repression— Abandons Home to Study Painting- Dublin Society— Paris and Dublin — Early Attachment — Marine Subjects and Miniature Painting. As a miniature painter, Samuel Lover took his place in the front rank of the profession along with Eoss and Thorburn; but, from the very specialty of this depart- ment of art, its highest examples, if exhibited at all by the artists, are usually afterwards consigned to the privacy of the locket, or of the boudoir, soon to be for- gotten by the public. On the other hand, a song, music-winged, and borne over land and sea, may for centuries keep sowing itseK afresh in human hearts, and, thus, it is ever capable of being perfectly reproduced. Samuel Lover himself, in his preface to the Lyrics of Ireland, cjuaintly pleads guilty to the allegation of Shak- spere, that "Lovers are given to poetry;" and, in the way we have named, it has come about that it is chiefly as a song-writer that Lover — a good, true, genial, rational 10 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. Iiisliiiian — lives, and "vvill probably continue to live on, in the hearts of many generations. His best songs are characterized by an exquisite blend- ing of pathos and humour Avhich is peculiarly his own. "Eory O'More," "Molly Bawn," "Molly Carew," "The Four-leaved Shamrock," "The Low-backed Car," "The May-dew," "The Irish Post-boy," "What will ye do, Level" "The Angel's Whisper," &c., are familiarly known wherever the English language is spoken. Be it observed, too, that through all his hilarious vivacity, grotesque quaintness, irresistible drolleries, fun, wit, humour, fancy, and touching natural pathos, j^rity ever shines " Like light — a golden drift through all the song ! " As a song-writer, Lover, if not more musical, is with- out doubt more Irish and more natural than Moore. He composed the music for about two hundred of his own songs — both melodies and accompaniments. Many-sided, and eminently possessing both genius and a capacity for work. Lover made his mark, and achieved success in various walks — as a marine painter, miniature painter, etcher, caricaturist, musical composer, executant, novelist, and dramatist. This gifted and genial artist was born in Dublin on the 24th of February, 1797. He Avas the eldest son of a well-known member of the stock exchange, a man who was in moderately comfortalile circumstances, and belonged to a family that had always been Protestant, and which was said originally to have come from England. He was a delicate child, but possessed that inestimable privilege, " Life's first good — a good mother who, tending him with gentle, thoughtfid, and afTectionate LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 11 care from early infancy, taught him to detest a lie and keep his word. Possessing musical taste and a sweet voice, she would sing him to sleej) with the wild airs of his native land. One day, when the child was at the house of a friend, where he had been sent to play with the children, he was missed from the merry throng, and discovered at last in a remote room, " standing before an old piano, whose key-board when on tip-toe he could scared}^ reach Avith his chin, and trying to poke out on it with his chubby fingers one of the popular tunes of the day." The air was Moore's "Will you come to the Bower 1 " An old musician, who happened to be pre- sent, was so favourably impressed with the child's pre- cocious gifts, that he forthwith persuaded Mr. Lover, senior, to get the little fellow a piano and have him taught music. As to his general education. Master Samuel was first sent to a dame-school, and afterwards to a boy's academy, where his application was so great, and his reading so incessant, that his health began to suffer. Being of a very impressionable temperament, he became nervously sensitive, excitable, and feverish, to such an extent that the family doctor, seriously alarmed, at once ordered him off to the country, where he might have the benefit of fresh air, freedom, and exercise. His fond parents found him a comfortable home at a farmhouse in Wicklow, where, at the age of twelve he was sent, under special injunctions from the doctor that he should never touch a book, and was to have the free use of a pony. Young Samuel had not been long away when his mother died, and this was his first great grief. Of her he afterwards wi'ote: — 2 12 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. MY MOTHER DEAE.1 There was a place in childhood that I rememloer well, And there a voice of sweetest tone bright fairy tales did tell, And gentle words and fond embrace were giv'n with joy to me, When I was in that happy place — upon my mother's knee. When fairy tales were ended, " Good-night," she softly said, And kiss'd and laid me down to sleep within my tiny bed ; And holy words she taught me there — methinks I yet can see Her angel eyes, as close I knelt beside my mother's knee. In the sickness of my childhood — the perils of my prime — The sorrows of my riper years — the cares of every time — When doubt and danger weigh'd me down — then pleading all for me. It was a fervent pray'r to Heaven that bent my mother's knee. On the breezy hills of Wicklow, with a keen appetite, he acquired new vigour, and after having greatly enjoyed the novelty of rural life and scenes for a year, the boy of thirteen returned, in 1810, to his father, not only set up in health, but with a robust constitution, and a fund of strength and animal spirits that served him through life. That country sojourn not only benefited him physically, but at the same time introduced him to rural life and to the peasantry of Ireland, whose best traits he afterwards continued to reproduce in song and story, always looking at the bright side, as when he first saw them, in the sunny light of his happy boyish memories. Of this Wicklow visit, long after, he wrote " My Mountain Home," &c. MY MOUNTAIN HOME. My mountain home ! my mountain home ! Dear are thy hills to me ! ' Lyrics of Ireland, p. 14. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 13 Where first my cliildhood lov'd to roam — Wild as the summer bee : Tlie summer bee may gather sweet From flow'rs in suuuy prime ; And mem'ry brings, with wing as fleet, Sweet thoughts of early time : Still fancy bears me to the hills, Where childhood lov'd to roam — I hear, I see your sparkling rills, My own, my mountain home ! After attending school for a year and a half, although his teachers had earnestly recommended that he should 1)6 sent to the university, his father nevertheless deter- mined to take him into his own office. There, accord- ingly, Samuel for a time persevered at uncongenial labours during the day, but devoted the evenings, which he con- sidered his own, to his favourite studies; when his father came to know this, it led to serious unpleasantness, in the shape of remonstrance, obstruction, and sarcasm on the part of his parent. Some remissness greater than usual, on Samuel's part, Ijrought matters to a head; whereupon Mr. Lover packed his son off to London, ostensibly wth a view to his better training in a house of business there, but really with the intention of checking his art aspirations. Such injudicious repression, however, only served to fan the flame instead of extinguishing it; and after a year he returned home less inclined than ever to follow his father's business, and fully resolved to rely on his pencil for the means of future support. So he, a youth of seventeen, strongly bent on other and more congenial pursuits which his father could not understand, self-reliant, unaided, and with only a few pounds which he had saved in his pocket, at length left the office and the paternal roof, 14 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. fully determined at all hazards to fight his way in the world as an artist — although his art, strange to say, was yet to be acquired. The state of society in Dublin at that period was pecu- liar, if not unique, in modern history. Barbarity and refinement lived amicably side by side. Drinking, gambling, and fighting were the order of the day; and, of these, the latter seemed to be the favourite amusement of high and low — the one class using pistols, and the other shillclahs. Then there Avas their feudal feeling, their humour, and irrepressible love of fun, ever combined with a chivalric regard for women. "An air of burlesque romance runs through half this people's history. They seem to turn life into a carnival, in which the only occupation is the concoction of a good joke or the pursuit of a mad adventure." We are gravely told of a host being found at pistol- practice because he expected some friends to dinner; of a plaintiff's calling out all his opponents in a law-suit; of politicians, ministers of state, and even judges maintain- ing their title to respect by their repeated shots at one another. Still matters had improved considerably of late years, for the time had not long passed when duelling was held to be a ground of admission to society, and when a young man going to a dinner party or a ball was sure to be asked the question, "Have you been out yet? have you blazed, sir?" The "trigger process," as it was called, set aside the legal, and, always conducted with punctilious fairness, was very seldom fatal ; while, of tener than not, it was ludicrous either in its origin or ending. The Dublin of these days is descri])ed as being " The home of hospi- tality, the imperial mint of jest and epigram; the great fountain-head or factory of everything that was droll or LIFE SKETCH OP SAMUEL LOVER. 15 rampant in speech, literature, or action. Eccentricity was not only the spirit, it became the business of men's lives. To supply Dublin with fresh laughter seemed just as needful as fresh food. Thus the most absurd wagers were laid and the wildest adventures were undertaken, such as Buck Whalley's famous bet to walk to Jerusalem and back, and play a game of racquet against its walls." Of Brennan's Magazine, long the terror and delight of Dublin, Lover himself in his diary afterwards recorded the follow- ing piece of satire : — " There was a rich physician of the time who never asked a friend to dinner, and in the columns of Brennan's obituary was announced the loss of the doctor's cat, as having died in her accouchement of ' a cold caught in his kitchen grate.'" Between riots, fomented rebellions, absurd affairs of honour, fetes, balls, reckless extravagance in dress, pro- fuse warm-hearted hospitality which gave occasion for those hilarious hurricanes that so often, at two o'clock in the morning, would shake the old dining-rooms of Dublin, there was much to show that the native Lord of Misrule had recently, at all events, had no little share in the government of the city. On the other hand. Lord Clon- cuny, a good judge in such matters, speaking of Dublin in 1797 — the very year of Samuel Lover's birth^says that it "possessed society as polished and brilliant as that of Paris in its best days — circles whose gaiety and freedom had all the restraints of a high respect, and whose festive spirit, all the submission that was exacted by good taste." In Paris, wit predominated; in Dublin, humour, which is higher, broader, deeper, and more genial; while the moral tone of Irish society was far purer than that of France. Such were the anomalous antecedents, and such was 16 LIFE SKETCH OP SAMUEL LOVER. the present state of that Duljlin society, in which Samuel Lover, a youth of seventeen, had now to make his way, and to which he had to look for future purchasers of his pictures, when he had learned to paint them. With genius, self-reliance, and indomitable perseverance, for three whole years he bravely fought on, developing his latent talents, and he achieved success. During this quiet period of work and study, it is supposed that he main- tained himself by sketching portraits and copying music. He had previously become attached to Miss Mary Thomp- son, a fair young English girl whose family then resided in Dublin ; and this mutual attachment was certainly one of the sources of his undaunted courage, energetic activity, and cheerfulness. Circumstances, however, were adverse to their fond wishes, and, as it turned out, they went different ways, and both of them were otherwise happily married; but this beautiful and touching episode of early affection fortunately issued in a friendship which lasted for life. His first efforts were directed to marine subjects in water-colours, and he was ever a careful student of nature. In a letter to the writer he refers to his early admiration of Irish skies — their lovely forms, their delicate colours — • the intricate involutions of their broad masses of mist — their brilliant lights, their delicate reflexes — their shadows, tender or heavy, and the perplexing suddenness of their changes. In the same letter, he also alludes to his love of the sea, but adds that he preferred to paint it when still. The young student's tastes and interests, however, soon led him to miniature painting, in which art, as has been already stated, he afterwards rose to the top of his profession. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 17 CHAPTER II. 1818-1829: Professional Life — Literary Efforts — Marriage. Marine and Miniature Painter— Sings at Moore's Banquet— Introduced to the Moores- Earliest Literary Efforts— "The Gridiron"— Lover in Society — Burschenschaft and Glee Clubs— His Marriage— First Drama— Chosen Secretary of R. H. A. After three years' seclusion, devoted to preparation, toil, and study, Lover came before the Dublin public as a marine and miniature painter. The daguerreotype and jDhotograph were not as yet discovered, and there was always such demand for miniature portraits as in- sured an artist of merit receiving nimierous commissions. In 1818, before he was twenty-one, he was so well knoAvn in Dublin, that he was asked to sing a song of his own, composed for the occasion, at the Moore banquet on June 8th. The subject, probably suggested by the old poem written by the Duke of Buckingham, was the "Election of a Poet Laureate for Olympus," contested by the bards of Britain, and in which, Venus and the Graces plumping for their favourite, Moore, of course, is at length made to win the day. There are eleven verses altogether; and, as this Avas Lover's first public appearance as a song writer, it may interest the reader to have the following specimen : — "T'other day Jove exclaimed, with a nod most profound, While the gods of Olympus in state sat around, *I have fully resolved, after weighty reflection. To soon set a-going a Poet's Election.' A good thought, — Jupiter, boy!" Each god was to have a vote, whereupon a protest was 18 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. raised by a goddess in behalf of "women's rights" (said, generally to be men's lefts.') — " ' I request, tho',' said Juno, ' you'll let it be known Why this right of election the gods have alone ; On this i^oint, as on others, I differ from you. And insist evei-y goddess shall have a vote too.' Brave Juno, stand up for your right ! " Then Jupiter said, ' Let it be so, my dear, Let th' Election commence, bid the poets appear; The polling concluded, whoever is found To have carried most votes, shall our Poet be crown'd.' Fair play— Jupiter, boy !"' Scott, Campbell, Southey and Byron, are proposed as candidates, and supported by various of the gods and goddesses. " But Mercury said he should now bring in sight A bard who was everyone's pride and delight — Who Melpomene, Venus, Thalia could lure ; They all knew who he meant, and so, need he say — Moore?" His presence greeted with one acclamation, he is duly elected "Jove's Poet for ever." Iris sheds the rainbow around his head, while Apollo places the laurel wreath on his brow, and Flora lays her best treasures at his feet. The song, sung to a lively air, was quite a success; it was applauded and encored; and, at the close of the festivity, Moore begged to be introduced to the young poet, and cordially thanked him for the compliment which had been paid him; while, next day, Moore's mother sent to request a cojDy of the verses, and, hence- 1 This and the preceding verse have been recovered from MS., by the kind- ness of Mrs. Lover.— A. J. S. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 19 foi'th, was his friend. Indeed, when she died, Lover was one of the honoured few who, at her funeral, were desired to bear the pall. His position as an artist, ere long, was established; and he followed up his success Avith the pencil by his stories and legends, which, appearing from time to time in the leading Dublin magazines, gained him considerable liter- ary reputation. Referring to certain Irish tales, in a letter to the writer, he remarked of some translations of old Norse stories: — ;"The fairy tales, in your Iceland book, remind me of some I have heard in Ireland in my boyhood, and the phraseology is in some places identical with that of Ireland. This is curious." Among his magazine contributions was the inimitable story of " The Gridiron," which first made him known as a humorist, and, subsequently becoming a feature in his entertainments, to-day, is, individually, as widely popular as anything he has written in prose. Of this period, in a letter Avritten from the Isle of Wight, in January, 1866, he tells us: — -"You ask when I first appeared in print? In the Duhlin Literary Gazette (after the manner of the London do.) a paper of mine called "Ballads and Ballad Singers" was the premier jms. The French say, 'C'est le premier pas qui coiite,' but my 'premier pas cost the publisher nothing, at all events. In the same publication appeared, secondly, ' The Legend of the King and the Bishop,' — thirdly, 'The Gridiron,' which was a great success, being reprinted in many forms in England and Ireland : that was the last thing I wrote for 'honour and glory.' I got paid after that." We present "The Gridiron" to our readers, knowing that it will be enjoyed, whether introduced to them for the first time, or welcomed as an old friend :— 20 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. THE GRIDIEON: OR, PADDY MULLOWNEY's TRAVELS IN FRANCE. A certain old gentleman in the west of Ireland, whose love of the ridiculous quite equalled his taste for claret and fox- hunting, was wont, upon certain festive occasions, when opportunity offered, to amuse his friends by drawing out one of his servants who was exceeding fond of what he termed his "thravels," and in whom a good deal of whim, some queer stories, and perhaps, more than all, long and faithful services had established a right of loquacity. He was one of those few triisty and privileged domestics who, if his master unheedingly uttered a rash thing in a fit of passion, would venture to set him right. If the squire said, " I'll turn that rascal off," my friend Pat would say, " Throth you won't, sir ; " and Pat was always right, for if any altercation arose upon the " subject matter in hand " he was sure to throw in some good reason, either from former services — general good conduct — or the delinquent's "wife and childher," that always turned the scale. But I am digressing; on such merry meetings as I have alluded to the master, after making certain " approaches," as a military man would say, as the preparatory steps in laying siege to some extravaganza of his servant, might, perchance, assail Pat thus : " By-the-bye, Sir John (addressing a distin- guished guest), Pat has a very curious story which something you told me to-day reminds me of. You remember, Pat (turning to the man, evidently pleased at the notice thus paid to himself), you remember that queer adventure you had in France. " Throth I do, sir," grins forth Pat. "What!" exclaims Sir John, in feigned surprise, "was Pat ever in France ? " " Indeed he was," cries mine host ; and Pat adds, " ay, and farther, plaze your honour." " I assure you. Sir John," continues my host, " Pat told me LIFE SKKTCII OF SAMUEL LOVER. 21 a story once that surprised me very much respecting the ignor- ance of the French." " Indeed ! " rejoins the baronet, " really, I always supposed the French to be a most accomplished people." " Throth then, they're not, sir," interrupts Pat. " Oh, by no means," adds mine host, shaking his head em- phatically. " I believe, Pat, 'twas when you were crossing the Atlantic?" says the master, turning to Pat with a seducive air, and lead- ing into the " full and true account " — (for Pat had thought fit to visit North Amerihay for "a raison he had" in the autumn of the year ninety-eight). " Yes, sir," says Pat, " the broad Atlantic," a favourite phrase of his which he gave with a brogue as broad, almost, as the Atlantic itself. — " It was the time I was lost in crassin' the broad Atlantic, a comin' home," began Pat, decoyed into the recital ; " whin the winds began to blow, and the sae to rowl, that you'd think the Colleen dims (that was her name) would not have a mast left but what would rowl out of her. " Well, sure enough, the masts went by the boord at last, and the pumps were choak'd (divil choak them for that same), and av coorse the wather gained an us; and troth, to be filled with wather is neither good for man or baste ; and she was sinkin' fast, settlin' do^vn, as the sailors calls it; and faith I never was good at settlin' down in my life, and I liked it then less nor ever; accordingly we prepared for the worst, and put out the boat, and got a sack o' bishkets, and a cashk o' pork, and a kag o' wather, and a thrifle o' rum aboord, and any other little matthers we could think iv in the mortial hurry we wor in — and faith there was no time to be lost, for my darlint, the Colleen dhas went down like a lump o' lead afore we wor many sthrokes o' the oar away from her. " Well, we dhrifted away all that night, and next mornin' we put up a blanket an the ind av a pole as well as we could, and then we sailed iligant; for we darn't show a stitch o' canvass the night before bekase it was blowin' like bloody murther, savin' your presence, and sure it's the wondher of the world we worn't swally'd alive by the ragin' sae. 22 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. " Well, away we wint, for more nor a week and nothin' be- fore our two good-lookin' eyes but the canophy iv heaven, and the wide ocean — the broad Atlantic — not a thing was to be seen but the sae and the sky ; and though the sae and the sky is mighty party things in themselves, throth they're no great things when you've nothin' else to look at for a week together — and the barest rock in the world, so it was laud, would be more welkim. And then, soon enough throth, our provisions began to run low, the bishkits, and the wather, and the rum — throth that was gone first of all — God help uz — and, oh ! it was thin that starvation began to stare us in the face — ' Oh, murther, murther, captain darlint,' says I, ' I wish we could see land anywhere,' says I. " ' More i^ower to your elbow, Paddy, my boy,' says he, 'for sitch a good wish, and throth it's myseK wishes the same.' " ' Oh,' says I, ' that it may plaze you, sweet queen iv heaven, supposing it was only a dissolute island,' says I, ' in- habited wid Turks, sure they wouldn't be such bad Christhans as to refuse us a bit and a sup.' " ' Whisht, whisht, Paddy,' says the captain, ' don't be talkin' bad of any one,' says he ; ' you don't know how soon you may want a good word put in for yourself, if you should be called to quarters in th' other world all of a suddint,' says he. " ' Thrue for you, captain darlint,' says I — I called him darlint, and made free wid him you see, bekase disthress makes uz all equal — ' thrue for you, captain jewel — God betune uz and harm, I owe no man any spite' — and throth that was only thruth. Well, the last bishkit was sarved out, and by gor the wather itself was all gone at last, and we passed the night mighty cowld — well, at the brake o' day the sun riz most beautiful out o' the waves that was as bright as silver and as clear as clnysthal. But it was only the more cruel upon VIS, for we wor beginnin' to feel terrible hungry; when all at wanst I thought I spied the land — by gor I thouglit I felt my heart up in my throat in a minnit, and 'Thunder an turf, captain,' says I, ' look to leeward,' says I. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 23 "'What for?' says be. " ' I think I see the hind,' says I. So he ups with his bring- 'm-near — (that's what the sailors call a spy -glass, sir) and looks out, and sure enough it was. " ' Hurra ! ' says he, ' we're all right now ; pull away, my boys,' says he. " ' Take care you're not mistaken,' says I ; ' maybe it's only a fog-bank, captain darlint,' says I. " ' Oh no,' says he, ' it's the land in airnest.' " ' Oh then, whereabouts in the wide world are we, captain?' says I, ' maybe it id be in Roosia, or Proosia, or the Garman Oceaut,' says I. " ' Tut, you fool,' says he — for he had that consaited way wid him — thinkin' himself cleverer nor any one else — ' tut, you fool,' says he, ' that's France,' says he. " 'Tare an ouns,' says I, 'do you tell me so? and how do you know it's France it is, captain dear?' says I. " ' Bekase this is the Bay o' Bishky we're in now,' says he. " ' Throth I was thinkin' so myself,' says I, ' by the rowl it has ; for I often heerd av it in regard of that same ;' and throth the likes av it I never seen before nor since, and, with the help o' God, never will. " "Well, with that, my heai-t began to grow light ; and when I seen my life was safe I began to grow twice hungrier nor ever — so, says I, ' Captain jewel, I wish we had a gridiron.' " ' Why, then,' says he, ' thunder an turf,' says he, ' what puts a gridiron into your head?' " ' Bekase I'm starvin' with the hunger,' says I. " ' And sure, bad luck to you,' says he, ' you couldn't ate a gridiron,' says he, ' barrin you \{ov a, pelican o' the wildherness,^ says he. '"Ate a gridiron!' says I; 'och, in throth I'm not sich a gommoch all out as that, any how. But sure if we had a grid- iron we could dress a beef-stake,' says I. " ' Ari'ah ! but where's the beef -stake,' says he. " ' Sure, couldn't we cut a slice aff the pork,' says I. " ' Be gor, I never thought o' that,' says the captain. 'You're a clever fellow, Paddy,' says he, laughin'. 24 LIFE SKETCH OP SAMUEL LOVER, " ' Oh, there's many a thrue word said in joke/ says I. " ' Thnie for you, Paddy,' says he. " * Well, then,' says I, ' if you put me ashore there beyant ' (for we were nearing the land all the time), ' and sure I can ax thim for to lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I. " ' Oh by gor, the butther's comin' out o' the stirabout in airnest now,' says he, ' you gommoch,' says he, ' sure I towkl you before that's France — and sure they're all furriners^ there,' says the captain. " ' Well,' says I, ' and how do you know but I'm as good a furriner myself as any o' thim?' " ' What do you manel' says he. '"I mane,' says I, 'what I towld you, that I'm as good a furriner myself as any o' thim.' " ' Make me sensible,' says he. " ' By dad, maybe that's more nor me, or greater nor me, could do,' says I — and we all began to laugh at him, for I thought I'd pay him off for his bit o' consait about the Garman Oceant. " ' Lave aff your humbuggin',' says he, ' I bid you, and tell me what it is you mane, at all at all,' " ' Parly voo frongsay ?' says I. " ' Oh, your humble sarvant,' says he, ' why, by gor, you're a scholar, Paddy,' " * Throth, you may say that,' says I. '"Why, you're a clever fellow, Paddy,' says the captain, jeerin' like. " ' You're not the first that said that,' says I, ' whether you joke or no.' '"Oh, but I'm in airnest,' says the captain — 'and do you tell me, Paddy,' says he, ' that you sj^ake Frinch?' '■'■^ Parly voo frongsay T says I, " ' By gor, that bangs Banagher, and all the world knows Banagher bangs the divil— I never met the likes o'you, Paddy,' says he—' pull away, boys, and put Paddy ashore, and maybe we won't get a good bellyful before long.' " So, with that, it was no sooner said nor done— they pulled I Foreigners. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER, 25 away aud got close into shore in less than no time, and run the boat up in a little creek, and a beautiful creek it was, with a lovely white sthrand — an iligant pkice for ladies to bathe in the summer ; and out I got— and it's stiff enough in my limbs I was, afther bein' cramp'd up in the boat, and perished with the cowld and hunger ; but I conthrived to scramble on, one -way or t'other, tow'rds a little bit iv a wood that was close to the shore, and the smoke curliu' out of it, quite timptin' like. " ' By the powdhers o' war, I'm all right,' says I ; ' there's a house there ;' — and sure enough there was, and a parcel of men, women, and childher ating their dinner round a table quite ( onvaynient. And so I wint up to the door, and I thought I'd be very civil to thim, as I heerd the Frinch was always mighty p'lite intirely— and I thought I'd show them I knew what good manners was. " So I took aff my hat, and, making a low bow, says I, ' God save all here,' says I. " AVell, to be sure, they all stopt ating at wanst, and begun to stare at me — and faith they almost look'd me out o' coun- tenance ; and I thought to myself it was not good manners at all — more betoken from furriners, which they call so mighty p'lite ; but I never minded that, in regard o' wantin' the grid- iron; and so says I, 'I beg your pardon,' says I, 'for the liberty I take, but it's only bein' in disthress in regard of ating,' says I, ' that I make bowld to throuble yez, and if you could lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, ' I'd be entirely obleeged to ye.' " By gor, they all stared at me twice worse nor before ; and with that, says I (knowiu' what was in their minds), ' Indeed, it's thrue for you,' says I,—' I'm tatthered to pieces, and God knows I look quare enough — but it's by raison of the storm,' says I, 'which dhruv us ashore here below, and we're all starvin',' says I. " So then they began to look at each other agin ; and myself, seeing at wanst dirty thoughts was in their heads, and that they tuk me for a poor beggar, comin' to crave charity — with that, says I, ' Oh ! not at all,' says I, ' by no manes— we have plenty o' mate ourselves, there below, and we'll dhress it,' 26 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. says I, ' if you would be plased to lind us the loan of a grid- iron,' says I, makin' a low bow. " Well, sir, with that, throth they stared at me twice worse nor ever — and, faith, I began to think that maybe the captain was wrong, and that it was not France at all at all ; and so says I, ' I beg pardon, sir,' says I, to a fine ould man, with a head of hair as white as silver — ' maybe I'm undher a mistake,' says I ; ' but I thought I was in France, sir ; aren't you fur- riners ?' says I — ' Parly voo frongsay ?' " ' AVe, munseer,' says he. " ' Then would you lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'if you plasel' " Oh, it was thin that they stared at me as if I had seven heads ; and, faith, myself began to feel flusthered like, and onciisy — and so says I, makin' a bow and scrape agin, ' I know it's a liberty I take, sir,' says I, ' but it's only in the regard of bein' cast away ; and if you jjlase, sir,' says I, ' Parly voo frong- say?' " ' We, munseer,' says he, mighty sharp. "'Then would you lind me the loan of a gridiron?' says I, ' and you'll obleege me.' "Well, sir, the ould chap began to munseer me; but the divil a bit of a gridiron he'd gi' me ; and so I began to think they wor all neygavs, for all their fine manners ; and throth my blood begun to rise, and says I, ' By my sowl, if it was you was in disthriss,' saj^s I, ' and if it was to ould Ireland you kem, it's not only the gridii-on they'd give you, if you ax'd it, but something to put an it too, and the dhrop o' dhrink into the bargain, and cead mile failte.' "Well, the word cead mile failte seemed to sthreck his heart, and the ould chap cocked his ear, and so I thought I'd give him another offer, and make him sinsible at last ; and so says I, wanst more, quite slow, that he might undheretand — ' Parly — voo— frongsay, munseer?' " ' We, munseer,' says he. "'Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, 'and bad scram to you.' " Well, bad win to the bit of it he'd gi' me, and the ould LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 27 chap begins bowiii' and scrapin', and said something or other about a long tongs.^ " ' Phoo ! — the divil sweep yourself and your tongs,' says I, 'I don't want a tongs at all at all; but can't you listen to raison,' says I — '■Parly voo frongsay ?' " ' We, ninnseer.' " '■ Then lind me the loan of a gridiron,' says I, ' and howld your prate.' "Well, what would you think but he shook his owld noddle as much as to say he wouldn't; and so says I, ' Bad cess to the likes o' that I ever seen — thi'oth if you wor in my counthry it's not that-a-way they'd use you ; the curse o' the crows an you, you owld sinner,' says I, ' the divil a longer I'll darken your door.' " So he seen I was vex'd, and I thought, as I was turnin' away, I seen him begin to relint, and that his conscience throubled him; and, says I, turnin' back, 'Well, I'll give you one chance more — you ould thief — are you a Chrishthan at all at all? are you a furriner?' says I, 'that all the world calls so p'lite. Bad luck to you, do you undherstand your own language? — Parly voo frongsay ?' says I. " ' We, munseer,' says he. " ' Then thunder an turf,' says I, ' will you lind me the loan of a gridiron ? ' " Well, sir, the divil resave the bit of it he'd gi' me — and so with that, the ' curse o' the hungry an you, you ould negarly villian,' says I; ' the back o' my hand and the sowl o' my fut to you, that you may want a gridiron yourself yit,' says I ; 'and wherever I go, high and low, rich and poor, shall hear o' you,' says I ; and with that I left them there, sir, and kem away — ■ and in throth it's often sense that I thought that it was remark- able:' In society Lover was a general favourite, but he had nothing of the hon vivant about him. His sphere was the drawing-room rather than the dining-room. 1 Some mystification of Patldy's touching the French n'entends. 3 28 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. A member of the "Bursclienschaft Club" founded by- Charles James Lever, he was the minstrel whose duty it was to furnish poetry and songs on state occasions. An amusing record of their jDroceedings was entitled "Ye Boke of ye Burschenschaft," and contained a chronicle of their vagaries; this volume was illustrated by their minstrel, who had also to become their limner. Lover was also a member of the Dublin Glee Club, of which Sir John Andrew Stevenson was chairman. Having now established his reputation as a miniature painter and made his mark in literature as a humorist, and beginning to wdn popularity as a song-^mter, sur- rounded by many friends, and with an income steadily increasing, in the autumn of 1827, when in his thirtieth year, he married Miss Berrel, the daughter of a Dublin architect, a man of ability and refinement. Amiable and of cultured tastes, she made him an excellent wife. Lover was a Protestant and his wife a Eoman Catholic, but by mutual consent all controversial topics were avoided. In the same way, Moore, who was a Eoman Catholic, married a Protestant; yet, strange to say, both marriages were happy. Lover was now able to unite his devotion to home with his love of society. Always abstemiously temperate, and keeping early hours, he was most industrious, and stories, songs, and paintings con- tinued to flow from his studio in quick succession. He also this year produced a fairy spectacle called "Graun- weal," founded on the half historic legend of the Celtic heroine Grace O'Malley, the Connaught Chieftain's daughter in the fourteenth century, and Avhose name ia held in high honour by the bards. He composed both the words and music of this his first drama. Some years l^efore, he had been elected a member of the Royal Hibernian Academy; but now, in the year LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 29 1828, he had the honour of being chosen its Secretary, and he continued faithfully to discharge its duties till he subsequently migrated to London. CHAPTER III, 1830-1832: Stokies. Irish Horn Book— First Series of Legends and Stories of Ireland— Paddy the Piper. In the course of 1830, Lover turned his attention to political matters, and developed a new talent in the shape of humorous caricature etchings which in 1831 appeared in the Irish Horn Book. All the clever illustrations and much of the unsparing satirical literary matter were furnished by Lover, although it was not known till after his death that he had had any hand at all in the publication. The book obtained an enormous circulation, several thousands of the first edition having been sold at five shillings a copy. A crown prosecution, to which some of its many contributors were subjected, served further to advertise the volume and aid its sale. In 1832, appeared his Legends and Stories of Ireland, consisting chiefly of tales which he had contributed to magazines ; and amongst them were those popular favour- ites— "The Gridiron," "New Pittyatees," and "Paddy the Piper," cleverly illustrated by highly characteristic etchings from his own hand. We append the last of these amusing stories : — 30 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. PADDY THE PIPER. " I'll tell you, sir, a mighty quare story, and it's as thrue as I'm standin' here, and that's no lie: — " It was in the time of the ruction\ whin the long summer days, like many a fine fellow's precious life, was cut short by raison of the martial law — that wouldn't let a dacent boy be out in the eveniu', good or bad; for whin the day's work was over, divil a one of uz dar go to meet a f rind over a glass, or a girl at the dance, but must go home, and shut ourselves up, and never budge, nor rise latch, nor dhraw boult, antil the mornin' kem agin. "Well, to come to my story: — 'Twas after nightfall, and we wor sittin' round the fire, and the praties wor boilin', and the noggins of buttermilk was standin' ready for our suppers, whin a knock kem to the door. "'Whisht!' says my father, 'here's the sojers come upon us now,' says he; ' bad luck to thim, the villians, I'm af eared they seen a glimmer of the fire through the crack in the door,' says he. " ' No,' says my mother, ' for I'm afther hangin' an ould sack and my new petticoat agin it a while ago.' " ' Well, whisht, any how,' says my father, ' for there's a knock agin;' and we all held our tongues till another thump kem to the door. " ' Oh, it's a folly to purtind any more,' says my father — 'they're too cute to be put off that-a-way,' says he. 'Go, Shamus,' says he to me, ' and see who's in it.' " ' How can I see who's in it in the dark?' says I. " ' Well,' says he, ' light the candle thin, and see who's in it, but don't open the door, for your life, barrin' they brake it in,' says he, 'exceptin' to the sojers, and spake thim fair, if it's thim.' " So with that I wint to the door, and there was another knock. "'Who's there?' says I. 1 Insurrection. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 31 " ' It's me,' says he. " ' Who are you?' says I. " ' A frind,' says he. " ' Baitkershin,' says I — 'who are you at alii' " ' Arrah ! dou't you know mel' says he. " ' Divil a taste,' says I. " ' Sure I'm Paddy the Piper,' says he. " ' Oh, thunder an' turf,' says I, / is it you, Paddy, that's in iti' " ' Sorra one else,' says he. " 'And what brought you at this hour?' says I. " ' By gar,' says he, ' I didn't like goin' the roun' by the road,' says he, 'and so I kem the short cut, and that's what's delayed me,' says he. " ' Oh, bloody wars ! ' says I — ' Paddy, I wouldn't be in your shoes for the king's ransom,' says I; 'for you know your- self it's a hanging matther to be cotched out these times,' says I. '"Sure I know that,' says he, 'God help me! and that's what I kem to you for,' says he; 'and let me in for ould acquaintance sake,' says poor Paddy. " ' Oh, by this and that,' says I, ' I darn't open the door for the wide world; and sure you know it; and throth, if the Husshians or the Yeos^ ketches you,' says I, ' they'll murther you, as sure as your name's Paddy.' " ' Many thanks to you,' says he, ' for your good intintions ; but, i^laze the pigs, I hope it's not the likes o' that is in store for me, any how.' " ' Faix then,' says I, * you had betther lose no time in hidin' yourself,' says I; 'for, throth I tell you, it's a short thrial and a long rope the Husshians would be afther givin' you — for they've no justice, and less marcy, the villians !' " ' Faith thin, more's the raison you should let me in, Shamus,' says poor Paddy. " ' It's a folly to talk,' says I, ' I darn't open the door.' " ' Oh then, millia murther ! ' says Paddy, ' what'U become of me at all at all \ ' says he. 1 Yeomea 32 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. " ' Go aff into the shed,' says I, ' behiu' the house, where the cow is, and there there's an iligant lock o' straw, that you may go sleep in,' says I, ' and a fine bed it id be for a lord, let alone a piper.' " So off Paddy set to hide in the shed, and throth it wint to our hearts to refuse him, and turn him away from the door, more by token when the praties was ready — for sure the bit and the sup is always welkim to the poor thraveller. Well, we all wint to bed, and Paddy hid himself in the cow-house ; and now I must tell you how it was with Paddy : — " You see, afther sleeping for some time, Paddy wakened up, thinkin' it was mornin', but it wasn't mornin' at all, but only the light o' the moon that desaved him; but at all evints, he wanted to be stirrin' airly, bekase he was goin' off to the town hard by, it beiii' fair-day, to pick up a few ha'pence with his pipes — for the divil a betther piper was in all the counthry round nor Paddy; and every one gave it up to Paddy that he was iligant an the pipes, and played 'Jinny bang'd the Weaver,' beyant tellin', and the ' Hare in the Corn,' that you'd think the very dogs was in it, and the horsemen ridin' like mad. " Well, as I was sayin', he set off to go to the fair, and he wmt meaudherin' along through the fields, but he didn't go far, antil climbin' up through a hedge, when he was comin' out at t'other side, his head kem jDlump agin somethin' that made the fire flash out iv his eyes. So with that he looks up — and what do you think it was. Lord be marciful to uz ! but a corpse hangin' out of a branch of a three. " ' Oh, the top o' the mornin' to you, sir,' says Paddy, ' and is that the way with you, my poor fellow 1 throth you tuk a start out o' me,' says poor Paddy; and 'twas thrue for him, for it would make the heart of a stouter man nor Paddy jump, to see the like, and to think of a Chrishthan crathur being hanged up, all as one as a dog. " Now, 'twas the rebels that hanged this chap — bekase, you see, the corpse had got clothes an him, and that's the raison that one might know it was the rebels — by raison that the Husshians and the Orangemen never hanged any body wid LIFE SKETCH OP SAMUEL LOVER. 33 good clothes an him, but only the poor and definceless cvathurs like uz ; so, as I said before, Paddy knew well it was the hoys that done it; 'and,' says Paddy, eyin' the corpse, 'by my sowl, thin, but you have a beautiful pair o' boots an you,' says he, ' and it's what I'm thinkin' you won't have any great use for thim no more ; and sure it's a shame to see the likes o' me,' says he, ' the best piper in the sivin counties, to be trampin' wid a pair of ould brogues not worth three traneens, and a corpse with such an iligant pair o' boots, that wants some one to wear thim.' So, with that, Paddy lays hould of him by the boots, and began a-puUin' at thim, but they wor mighty stiff; and whether it was by raison of their bein' so tight, or the branch of the three a-jiggin' up an' down, all as one as a weighdee-buckettee, an' not lettin' Paddy cotch any right hoult o' thim — he could get no advantage o' thim at all — and. at last he gev it up, and was goin' away, whin lookin' behind him ajjin, the sioht of the ilieant fine boots was too much for him, and he turned back, detarmined to have the boots, any how, by fair means or foul; and I'm loath to tell you now how he got thim — for indeed it was a dirty turn, and throth it was the only dirty tiu-n I ever knew Paddy to be guilty av; and you see it was this a- way; 'pon my sowl, he pulled out a big knife, and, by the same token, it was a knife with a fine buck-handle, and a murtherin' big blade, that an uncle o' mine, that was a gardener at the lord's, made Paddy a prisint av ; and, more by token, it was not the first mischief that knife done, for it cut love between thim that was the best of frinds before; and sure 'twas the wondher of every one, that two knowledgeable men, that ought to know betther, would do the likes, and give and take sharp steel in frindship ; but I'm for- gettin' — well, he outs with his knife, and what does he do, but he cuts off" the legs of the corpse ; ' and,' says he, ' I can take off the boots at my convaynience ;' and throth it was, as I said before, a dirty turn. " Well, sir, he tuck'd the legs undher his arms, and at that minit the moon peeped out from behind a cloud — ' Oh ! is i't there you are?' says he to the moon, for he was an impidint chap — and thin, seein' that he made a mistake, and that the 34 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. moonlight desaved him, and that it wasn't the early dawn, as he conceaved; and bein' frikeu'd for fear himself might be cotched and trated like the poor corpse he was afther mal- threating, if he was found walking the counthry at that time — by gar, he turned about, and walked back agin to the cow-house, aud, hidin' the corpse's legs in the sthraw, Paddy wint to sleep agin. But what do you think? the divil a long Paddy was there antil the sojers came in airnest, and, by the powers, tliey carried ofT Paddy— and faith it was only sarvin him right for what he done to the poor corpse. " Well, whin the mornin' kem, my father says to me, ' Go, Shamus,' says he, ' to the shed, and bid poor Paddy come in, and take share o' the praties, for, I go bail, he's ready for his breaquest by this, any how.' "Well, out I wint to the cow-house, and called out 'Paddy !' and afther callin' three or four times, and gettin' no answer, I wint in, and called agin, and divil an answer I got still. ' Blood-an-agers ! ' says I, ' Paddy, where are you at all at all?' and so, castin' my eyes about the shed, I seen two feet sticking out from undher the hape of straw — ' Musha ! thin,' says I, ' bad luck to you, Paddy, but you're fond of a warm corner, and maybe you haven't made yourself as snug as a flay in a blanket; but I'll disturb your dhrames, I'm thinkin',' says I, and with that I laid hould of his heels (as I thought, God help me !), and givin' a good pull to waken him, as I intinded, away I wint, head over heels, and my brains was a'most knocked out agin the wall. " Well, whin I recovered myself, there I was, an the broad o' my back, and two things stickin' out o' my hands like a pair o' Husshian's horse-pist'ls— and I thought the sight 'id lave my eyes when I seen they were two mortial legs. "My jew'l, I threw them down hke a hot pratee, and, jumpin' up, I roared out millia murther. ' Oh, you murtherin' villian,'says I, shakin' my fist at the cow— 'Oh, you unnath'nil haste; says I, ' you've ate poor Paddy, you thievin' cannibal, you're worse than a neygar,' says I ; 'and bad luck to you, how dainty you are, that nothin' 'id sarve you for your supper but the best piper in Ireland. Weirasthru! weirasthru! what'll LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 35 the whole counthry say to such a unnath'ral murther? and you lookin' as innocent there as a lamb, and atin' your hay as quiet as if nothin' happened.' With that I run out— for, throth, I didn't like to be near her — and, goin' into the house, I tould them all about it. " ' Arrah ! be aisy,' says my father. " ' Bad luck to the lie 1 tell you,' says I. " ' Is it ate Paddy?' says they. " ' DivH a doubt of it,' says I. "'Are you sure, Shamus?' says my mother, " ' I wish I was as sure of a new pair o' brogues,' says I. ' Bad luck to the bit she has left iv him but his two legs.' "'And do you tell me she ate the pij^es too]' says my father. " ' By gor, I b'lieve so,' says I. " ' Oh, the divU fly away wid her,' says he, ' what a cruel taste she has for music !' "'Arrah !' says my mother, 'don't be cursin' the cow, that sives the milk to the childher.' " ' Yis, I will,' says my father, ' why shouldn't I curse sicn an unnath'ral baste?' " ' You oughtn't to curse any livin' thing that's undher your roof,' says my mother. " ' By my sowl, thin,' says my father, ' she sha'n't be undher my roof any more; for I'll sind her to the fair this minit,' says he, ' and sell her for whatever she'll bring. Go aft',' says he, ' Shamus, the minit you've ate your breaquest, and dhrive her to the fair.' " ' Throth, I don't like to dhrive her,' says I. " ' Arrah, don't be makin' a gommagh of yourself,' says he. " ' Faith, I don't,' says I. " ' Well, like or no like,' says he, ' you must dhrive her.' " ' Sure, father,' says I, ' you could take more care iv her yourself.' " ' That's mighty good,' says he, ' to keep a dog, and bark myself;' and, faith, I rec'Uected the sayin' from that hour; — 'let me have no more words about it,' says he, 'but be aflf wid you.' 36 LIFE SKKTCII OF SAMUEL LOVER. " So, aff I wiiit — and it's no lie I'm tellin' whin I say it was sore agin my will I had any thing to do with sich a villian of a baste. But, howsomever, I cut a brave long wattle, that I might dlirive the manather iv a thief, as she was, without bein' near her, at all at all. " Well, away we wint along the road, and mighty throng it wuz wid the boys and the girls — and, in short, all sorts, rich and poor, high and low, crowdin' to the fair, " ' God save you,' says one to me. " ' God save you, kindly,' says I. " ' That's a fine baste you're dhrivin',' says he. " ' Throth she is,' says I ; though God knows it wint agin my heart to say a good word for the likes of her. " ' It's to the fair you're goin', I suppose,' says he, ' with the baste?' (He was a snug-lookin' farmer, ridin' a purty little gray hack.) " ' Faith, thin, you're right enough,' says I, 'it is to the fair I'm goin'.' " ' What do you expec' for her?' says he. " ' Faith, thin, myself doesn't know,' says I — and that was thrue enough, you see, bekase I was bewildhered like about the baste, entirely. " ' That's a quare way to be goin' to market,' says he, ' and not to know what you expec' for your baste.' " ' Och,' says I — not likin' to let him suspict there was any thing wrong wid her — ' Och,' says I, in a careless sort of a way, ' sure no one can tell what a baste 'ill bring, antil they come to the fair,' says I, ' and see what price is goin'.' " ' Indeed, that's nath'ral enough,' says he. ' But if you wor bid a fair price before you come to the fair, sure you miglit as well take it,' says he. " ' Oh, I've no objection in life,' says I. " ' Well, thin, what 'ill you ax for her ? ' says he. " ' Why, thin, I wouldn't like to be onraysonable, says I — (for the thruth was, you know, I wanted to get rid iv her) — 'and so I'll take four pounds for her,' says I, 'and no less.' " ' No less ! ' says he. " ' ^Vlij^, sure that's chape enough,' says I. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 37 " ' Throth it is/ says he ; ' and I'm tliinkin' it's too chape it is,' says he ; ' for if there wasn't somethin' the matter, it's not for that you'd be sellin' the fine milch cow, as she is to all ajopearance.' " ' Indeed, thin, says I, ' upon my conscience, she is a fine milch cow.' " ' Maybe,' says he, ' she's gone off her milk, in regard that she doesn't feed well?' '"Och, by this and that,' says I, 'in regard of feedin' there's not the likes of her in Ireland ; so make your mind aisy — and if you like her for the money, you may have her.' " ' Why, indeed, I'm not in a hurry,' says he, ' and I'll wait to see how they go in the fair.' " ' With all my heart,' says I, purtendin' to be no ways con- sarned — but in throth I began to be afeard that the people ^v^as seein' somethin' unnath'ral about her, and that we'd never get rid of her, at all at all. At last we kem to the fair, and a great sight o' people was in it — throth, you'd think the whole world was there, let alone the standins o' gingerbread and illigant ribbins, and makins o' beautiful gownds, and pitch-and-toss, and merry-go-rouns, and tints with the best av dhrink in thim, and the fiddles playin' up t' incourage the boys and girls ; but I never minded thim at all, but detarmint to sell the thievin' rogue av a cow afore I'd mind any divar- shin in life ; so an I dhriv her into the thick av the fair, whin all of a suddint, as I kem to the door av a tint, iip sthruck the pipes to the tune av ' Tattherin' Jack Welsh,' and, my jew'l, in a minit the cow cock'd her ears, and was making a dart at the tint. '"Oh, murther!' says I, to the boys standin' by, 'hould her,' says I, ' hould her — she ate one piper already, the vaga- bone, and, bad luck to her, she wants another now.' " ' Is it a cow for to ate a piper?' says one o' thim. " ' Divil a word o' lie in it, for I seen his corpse myself, and nothin' left but the two legs,' says I; 'and it's a folly to be sthrivin' to hide it, for I see she'll never lave it aff — as poor Paddy Grogan knows to his cost, Lord be mai'ciful to him.' 143424 38 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. " ' Who's that takin' my name in vain?' says a voice in the ci'owd ; and with that, shovin' the throng a one side, who the divil should I see bnt Paddy Grogau, to all appearance, " ' Oil, hould him too,' says I ; ' keep him av me, for it's not himself at all, but his ghost,' says I; 'for he was kilt last night to my sartin knowledge, every inch av him, all to his legs.' " Well, sir, with that, Paddy — for it was Paddy himself, as it kem out afther — fell a laughin', that you'd think his sides 'ud split ; and whin he kem to himself, he iips and he tould uz how it was, as 1 tould you already ; and the likes av the fun they made av me was beyant tellin', for wrongfully mis- doubtin' the poor cow, and lay in' the blame iv atin' a piper an her. So we all wint into the tint to have it explained, and by gor it tuk a full gallon o' sper'ts t' explain it; and we dhrank health and long life to Paddy and the cow, and Paddy played that day beyant all tellin', and many a one said the likes was never heerd before nor sence, even from Paddy him- self — and av cooi'se the poor slandhered cow was dhruv home agin, and many a quite day she had wid us afther that ; and whin she died, throth my father had sitch a regard for the poor thing, that he had her skinned, and an iligant pair of breeches made out iv her hide, and it's in the fam'ly to this day; and isn't it mighty remarkable it is, what I'm goin' to tell you now, but it's as thrue as I'm here, that from that out, any one that has thim breeches an, the minit a pair o' pipes sthrikes up, they can't rest, but goes jiggin' and jiggin' in their sate, and never stops as long as the pipes is playiu' — and there," said he, slap]iiug the garment in question that covered his sinewy limb, with a spank of his brawny hand that might have startled nerves more tender than mine — " there, there is the very breeches that's an me now, and a fine pair they ai'e this minit." LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 39 CHAPTER IV. 1S32-1837 : Miniature Painting — Removal to London — In Society. Paganini Sliiiiature— Duke of Wellington— Royal Hibernian Academy Exlii- bitions— Russell Moore— Removal to London— In London Society— Allan Cunningham— Evening Receptions — Malibran— Sydney Smith— Lover's Humour— Hard Work— His Position as a Painter— Brougham— The Indian Moulvie —Thalberg— Fancy Subjects. In 1832, Paganiiii, the great violinist, then in the height of his celebrity and creating a perfect furor in the musical world, arrived in Dublin. Lover, fascinated like the rest, requested as a favour that the musician should sit to him. This was at once agreed to, and the result was a miniature of Paganini which was quite a marvel of art. This, the first good portrait of that remarkable man, when sent to the Royal Academy Exhibition in London in 1833, created quite a sensation, although it had to bear comparison with the miniatures of Thorburn and Ross. Of Paganini it has been said : — The prevailing cast of his countenance Avas a singular benignity. It had an open, kindly, bland composure, that engaged the confi- dence at once. The eyes, not large but finely formed, were as full of tenderness as thought; the brow had a noble breadth; the mouth, delicately cut, trembled with feeling, and could part into the most enchanting smile imaginable. The expression had a further interest in the shade of sadness it possessed; a tinge of patient melan- choly that was rarely effaced by its greatest brightness. Under these influences all the effect of his more striking and decisive features — the heavy eyebrows, the prominent nose, the massive, square-cut, vigorous chin — assumed a 40 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. new and agreeable character. Their natural air, which was simply one of force and resolution, passed into a calm and genial dignity that was unusually engaging. Such a face was surely entitled to all the honours of the pencil. Such was the man whom Lover painted — rendering the expression of the face, the repose of the seated figure, the feminine delicacy of the hand, and all the marvellous detail, so perfect in drawing, colour, tone, and finish, with the most consummate artistic skill. Even the reproduc- tion of the maestro's violin, in every line and touch, was pronounced by Wilkie, Chantrey, and Sir Martin Archer Shee to be a study worthy of the hand of Gerard Dow! The miniature was appreciated both by the most refined critics and by the general public; and all who looked on it were, intuitively, convinced of its truth as a likeness, while atbniring its rare beauty as a work of art. Lover had already painted the Duke of Wellington, when Marquis of Wellesley and Viceroy, the Duke of Leinster, Lord Cloncurry, and others of the nobihty in Dubhn, but it Avas the marked success of the Paganini portrait which subsequently led to his removing per- manently to London. About this time, the Duchess of Kent, having seen a portrait, by Lover, of a near relative of Sir John Conroy Avho was then controller of her household, was so pleased with liis work that Sir John was requested to communi- cate with the artist, with a view to his painting a portrait of young Princess Victoria. Domestic circumstances, however, prevented him from then leaving Ireland, and the chance did not again occur. Of this opportunity, which might have been the means of promoting him to the honour of being "miniature or portrait painter in ordinary" to her most gracious Majesty, a Dublin wit quaintly remarked — that, in such a case, "the Court LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER, 41 Chronicler would have had to announce a Lover instead of a Hayter as the possessor of the office."^ Lover's miniatures, with their refined delicacy of expres- sion, masterly handling, and harmonious colour, became prominent features in the annual exhibition of the Koyal Hibernian Academy. He had now his choice of sitters from the notabilities of the day, or from the nobility who honoured him, as the phrase is, by becoming his sitters. Such was the position to which he, who, when a youth, left his father's roof, and threw himself on the world in order to learn to become an artist, had now attained, and solely by his own genius and industry. In a letter to Mrs. Hall, Lover himself thus describes the occasion of his painting a portrait of Russell Moore, the youngest son of the poet, a sweet miniature, in which he happily succeeded in catching the dawning resemblance of the child to his father : — " The picture was painted in Dublin. The occasion occurred tluis :— Moore's mother wanted to see her grandchildren, so Moore paid a visit to Ireland with his wife and little ones. lu his native city, of course, every one was 'ready to eat them up,' as we say in Ireland, and bestow every attention upon them possible. I was among the first to see and welcome them, for it was my good fortune to be a great favourite with dear old Mrs. Moore, the delightful, cheery old grandmother, and to her house I went, by invitation, the very day the interest- ing party arrived. " I was struck by the beauty of the boy Eussell, and, as my share of doing homage to the bard of whom we were and are so justly proud, I proposed painting his portrait as a present to Mrs. Moore (the child's mother), who graciously accepted my proposal. Moore was much pleased also, and made a little present in return. " What was it ? Something that always brings sad memories with it whenever it is remembered. ' The late Sir George Hayter. 42 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. "The first short frock my darling Meta ever wore was a present from Tom IMoore. . . . " You ask me to give you some description of Eussell Moore. You know how hax'd, or rather how impossible, it is for words to give any notion of lineaments. "All children's faces are, to a certaint extent, round; but Russell's might have been remarked for roundness even among children — nose, though 7-etrousse, nicely defined about the nostril, a pretty mouth, well-marked eyebrows, and dark brown eyes of remarkable beauty, with a certain expression of archness that reminded of his father — you remember what brilliant and vivacious eyes his were, — in short, Russell Moore's face would have been a good model for a painter who wanted a suggestion for a little Cuj^id. " In my former letter I told you how restless, and trouble- some, and mischievous a little monkey he was." Lover, for years, had thought of settling permanently in London, instead of paying lengthened visits there. He resolved to do so, both on the ground of its affording a better field for the exercise of his profession, and on account of liis wife's failing health, for benefiting which the change was recommended. Accordingly, in 1834 he actually returned to Dublin for that purpose, but circumstances obliged him to delay this step for a year or two. In London, where he had many professional engagements, he was warmly welcomed into the first literary circles, and deservedly was a vmiversal favourite in society. Among his intimate friends were Sergeant Talfourd, Harness, Campbell the poet, Fonblanque, Mrs. Jamieson, !Miss Landon, Miss Pardoe, Lady Stepney, Martin the painter, David Eoberts, Dr. Croly, Lady Blessington, Jerrold, Mahoney (Father Prout), and Barham (the author of the Ligoldshy Legends). Mrs. H., the " young English girl " who was his first LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 43 love, and to whom "The Silent Farewell" was addressed, writing of that period to her very dear friend, Mrs. Lover, seven years after the poet's death, and she herself an old lady of between seventy and eighty, says : — " I so well remember going with Mr. and Mrs. Lover to call on Sir Francis and Lady Chantry. We went into the work- shop to see the bronze statue of Sir T. Monro, and on my being introduced to Allan Cunningham as a very old friend, he immediately said in his hroacl Scotch, 'Your friend is a coin])lcte monopolizer! I wonder whether he will paint, wiite a poem, or make a song about the statue!' " In 1837 Lover at last accomplished the wish of years, and removed his household to London in order to make the metropolis his permanent home. There, after a short stay near Eegent's Park, he fixed on a residence in Charles Street, St. Berner's Street, where he settled doAvn to work — ^vriting, etching, painting, and composing dramas, words and music. As in Dublin, he had certain evenings set apart for receptions. These his friends knew, and so could reckon on finding him. at home, and be certain to meet a merry and brilliant gathering, without the formality of a special invitation. When Lover was first presented by Charles Young to Malibran, that most genial and delightful woman as well as wonderful artiste, we are told that she held out her hand to him, exclaiming in the prettiest broken English possible, "Will you lend me the loan of a gridiron 1 " When, on paying his respects to Sydney Smith, and apologizing for having twice addressed a note to him at a MTong number, — nine, or eleven, instead of ten, — " A good beginning," exclaimed the wit; " there's luck in odd numbers, says Eory O'More." A lady of great- beauty and attraction, who was an 4 44 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. ardent admirer of Ireland, crowned her praises of it, at a party, by saying, "I think I was meant for an Irish- woman." "Cross the channel, madam," Lover replied, "and millions will say you were meant for an Irishman." Brimful of humour, Lover not only delighted society, but, in return, derived new ideas, refreshment, and an accession of power from his intercourse with kindred spirits, which he turned to profitable account in his work. " Often, on his return home from a party at an early hour in the morning," his daughter tells us, " instead of going to bed like others, he would sit down to his piano or his easel, and either complete an unfinished task or strike out some new conception." He became a memljer of sevei'al of the clubs and pro- fessional societies of London. It was as a painter that he first took his position in Lon- don, as well as in Dublin; and his exquisite miniatures were undoubtedly the most perfect of all his works, and dis- played his highest powers, although his admirable songs are better known from their being so much more accessible to the public. His miniature of "Lord Brougham" in his robes of office as lord-chancellor, of the "Indian Moulvie," and of many others, quite sustained his reputation in the London Koyal Academy Exhil)ition, to which, dating from 1833, he continued to contribute for twelve years. Of his "Brougham" — "That face speaks!" exclaimed some one when it was hung on the walls, "Speaks!" added David Roberts; "more than that, the nose moves!" The "Indian Moulvie" was referred to in "Blackwood's Magazine" as the best small portrait of the 1835 exliibi- tion at Somerset House, It certainly approached nearest of all his other works to the superb portrait of Paganini, acknowledged to be one of the finest miniatures ever painted. It was a full-length portrait of the Moulvie LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 45 Mahomet Ishmael Khan, the ambassador of the King of Oude, attired in his picturesque and gorgeous oriental costume, and invested with an expression of calm, thoughtful Eastern dignity and repose. A likeness of Tlialberg, the pianist, was much ad- mired for its placid, amiable expression. These, with his portraits of Wellington and Kussell Moore, his like- nesses of children, and his fanciful child subjects, such as "Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture" — represented by three little darlings, one of them attempting to draw, another showing a figure cut out of paper, and the third building a house of cards on the floor. A portrait of his little daughter Meta, as " The Connemara Kelp-gatherer," and "The Eebellious Ward;" these and his portrait of "An Egyptian," shown reclining on a divan, and enjoying his chibouque, Avere all deemed perfect marvels of art, both in texture and tone, commanding the enthusiastic praise of the first artists and connoisseurs in London, whether in regard to composition, drawing, expression, colour, or finish. CHAPTER V. 1834-1837 : Litekature— Song — Drama — Personal Appearance— Story. Second Series of Tales and Legends— Dublin University Magazine— Bentley's Miscellany— Songs and Dramas;for Madaiue Vestris— The Angel's Wliisper — Rory O'More, a Novel ; Dramatized — Song from The White Horse of Peppers— Other Dramas— Frazer and Blackwood— Personal Appearance- Story of Baruy O'Reirdon. In 1834, amidst his painting labours and numerous avocations, he issued a second series of Tales and Legends, illustrated with his own capital and characteristic etch- 46 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. ings. The volume contained "The Story of Barny O'Eeirdon," which had already appeared in an early number of the Dublin University Magazine, which bril- liant monthly periodical, he, along with Lever, Petrie, Carlton, and others, had assisted to start. He was also associated in the outset of Bentleys Miscellany, and in its pages appeared the early chapters of " Handy Andy," which, however, from a misunderstanding having arisen, was discontinued there, and afterwards issued, with his owTi etchings, as an illustrated serial publication. For Madame Vestris, then in the height of her popu- larity, he wrote a number of charming songs — words and music — specially adapted for her fine voice; and, intro- duced under such auspices, these were soon heard in every drawing-room, and even on the streets. Of these songs, which have been called his " English group," as distinct from his Irish songs, one of the ear- liest was " Under the Kose." Of the others, " The Angel's Whisper," " The Four-leaved Shamrock," " The Land of the \Yest," &c., at once became immense favourites with the public. Here we only give one specimen, as his "Songs and Ballads" will afterwards be referred to. Mark how strong it is, from his sparing use of adjectives. THE ANGEL'S WHISPER.1 A superstition of great beauty prevails in Ireland, that when a child smiles In its sleep it is " talking with angels." A baby was sleeping, Its mother wiis weeping. For her husband was far on the wild raging sea; And the tempest was swelHng Eound the fisherman's dwelling, And she cried, " Dermot, darling, oh come back to me !" 1 By permission of Messrs. George Routledge & Sons. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 47 . Her beads while she numbered, The baby still slumbered, And smiled in her face as she bended her knee ; " O blest be that warjiing, My child, thy sleep adorning. For I know that the angels are whispering with thee. " And while they are keeping Bright watch o'er thy sleeping, Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me ! And say thou would'st rather They'd watch o'er thy father ! — For I know that the angels are whispering with thee." The dawn of the morning Saw Dermot returning, And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see; And closely caressing Her child, with a blessing, Said, " I knew that the angels were whispering with thee." In 1835 he furnished Madame Vestris with a dramatic novelty for Christmas called " The Olympic Picnic," in which his patroness, the manageress, sustained the char- acter of Pandora. Bright, airy, and pleasant, it ran throughout the season and was quite a success. Lover's next play, in 1836, was "The Beau Ideal," a comedy in which the chief part Avas sustained by Liston. This year he published his first three -volume novel, a national romance, called Ronj O'Morc, selecting the hero of his well-known song (of which hereafter) as its chief character. " Hearty, honest, comic, sensible, tender, faithful, and courageous, Rory is the true ideal of the Irish peasant — the humble hero who embodies so much of the best of the national character, and almost lifts simple emotion to the same height as rijjened mind. Lover has Avritten nothing that affirms more worthily either his sympathies or talent." 48 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. In 1837, after his removal to London, he dramatized this novel with a view to the part of its buoyant hero being sustained by Tyrone Power. Its representation was a complete triumph. It was played for one hundred and eight nights in the first season, in London, and after- wards universally through the kingdom. The Athe- nceum remarked that Rory O'More, — a triple glory in song, story, and drama, — was the greatest success of the day, and that Samuel Lover seemed to communicate his own sweet temperament to all around him. For the Adelphi stage Lover also wrote " The White Horse of the Peppers," from which we extract — THE GUIDE'S SONG. Whoo ! I'm a ranting, roving blade, Of never a thing was I ever afraid ; I'm a gintlemau born, and I scorn a thrade, And I'd be a rich man if my debts was paid. But my debts is worth something ; this truth they instil, — That pride makes us fall all against our will; For 'twas pride that broke me — I was happy until I was ruined all out by my tailor's bill.^ I'm the finest guide you ever did see, I know ev'ry place of curosity From Thig-d-na Vauragh to Donaghadee ; And if you're for sport come along wid me. I'll lade you sporting round about — We've wild ducks and widgeon, and snipe, and tlirout ; And I know where they are and what they're about, And if they're not at home, then I'm sm^e they're out. 1 This is a joke that tells to the eye in the drama, where Gerald Pepper, in his disguise, appears in rags. Without this explanation the line is as little satisfactory as any other tailor's bilL ■^J LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 49 The miles in this counthry much longer be — But that is a saving of time d'you see, For two of our miles is aiqual to three, Which shortens the road in a great degree. And the roads in this place is so plenty, we say That you've nothing to do but to find your way ; If you're hurry's not great, and you've time to delay, You can go the short cut that's the longest way. And I'll show you heaps of good drinkin' too, For I know the place where the whisky grew; A bottle is good when it's not too new, And I'm fond of one, but I'd die for two. I'hi'uth is scarce when lia,rs is near. But squeeling is plenty when pigs you shear, And mutton is high when cows is dear. And rint it is scarce four times a-year. Such a country for growing you ne'er did behowld. We grow rich when we're 230or,we grow hot when we're cowld, And the girls they know bashfulness makes us grow bowld; We grow young when we like, but we never grow owld. And the sivin small sinses grows natural here, For praties has eyes, and can see quite clear; And the kittles is singing with scalding tears, And the corn-fields is listening with all their eai-s. But along with sivin sinses we have one more — Of which I forgot for to tell you before — 'Tis nonsense, spontaneously gracing our shore, And I'll tell you the rest when I think of more. For the Hay market he wrote the farce of " The Haj^py Man," founded on the Eastern story of the man who had no shirt. The Operatta of " The Greek Boy," for which he composed both words and music, was successfully pro- duced by Madame Vestris at Covent Garden. He also wrote words and music for *' II Paddy Whack in Italia," 50 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. ■which Balfe, with similar success, produced at the Lyceum. These, "The Hall Porter," and " Macarthur More " were the greater part of Lover's dramatic works. His claims to public recognition were now acknow- ledged far and wide. Maclise drew his portrait for the Gallery of Celebrities in Frazer's Magazine; and Black- wood, in 1836, made him the subject of a special notice, from which we extract the following paragraph : — " A new poet in our day is a discovery worth recording, but a new poet who is also a musician, painter, and novelist is quadruply worth wondering at. This is the case of Mr. Lover, a young Irishman who has lately made his appearance on this side of the channel. He is an artist of such skill as to have produced the very best small portrait (that of the ambassador of the King of Oude) at the last year's Exhibition at Somerset House. He has written some short but witty dramas, and some volumes of Irish stories which, we believe, are veiy clever, and are worthily illustrated by some sketches from his own pencil. But his songs are now the topic. We confess we have not been much captivated by what has i^assed for Irish song- writing in England. Those songs which profess to be humorous, the play-house pieces especially, are absolutely barbarous, — the essence of vulgarity, unrelieved by anything that bears the slightest resemblance to humour in Ireland or in any other countiy whatever. Even the amatory songs which have had their day among us have not altogether stolen our hearts. They have treated of love alternately like a schoolmaster and a schoolboy. They had none of the intense feeling, the flush of fever, the mixture of sadness and playful- ness, the delight and also the agony of inspiration. In the songs of the jjresent writer we find much of the rich caprice, and not a little of the force of passion." And an American writer, in an article called "A Sketching Party," in the Boston Atlas, thus describes Lover's personal appearance: — LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 51 " But who is that lively little gentleman whom everybody is shaking hands with, and who shakes hands with everybody in return? He is here, there, and everywhere, chattering away delightfully, it would seem, and dispensing smiles and arch looks in pi-ofusion. How his black eyes twinkle, and what fun there is in his face ! He seems brimful, and running over, with good humour, and looks as if care never had or could touch him. And then listen to that Milesian brogue ! Eeader, perhaps you have never heard an educated Irishman talk ?— Well, if so, you have lost a treat ; for nothing in the world is more delightful, excepting only the soft, mellifluous, tripping-over-the-tongue tattle of a pretty and well-informed daughter of the Emerald Isle. That natty, dear duck of a man, as the ladies might say, is an universal favourite every- where. He is at once jDoet, jmiuter, musician, and novelist. He writes songs, sets them to music, illustrates them with his pencil, and then sings them as no one else can. " Hurrah ! we have Eory O'More amongst us. Sam Lover, I beg to introduce you to the American public. Mr. Public — the author of the Tale of the Gridiron, and, I can assure you, one of the most accomplished and really elegant men whom you will ever have the good fortune to know." We append Lover's capital story of — ■ BAENY O'EEIEDON THE NAYIGATOE. Barny O'Eeirdon was a fisherman of Kinsale, and a heartier fellow never hauled a net nor cast a line into deep water : in- deed Barny, independently of being a merry boy among his companions, a lover of good fun and good whisky, was looked up to, ratlier, by his brother fishermen, as an intelligent fel- low, and few boats brought more fish to market than Barny O'Eeirdon's; his opinion on certain points in the craft was con- sidered law, and, in short, in his own little community Barny was what is commonly called a leading man. Now, your leading man is always jealous in an inverse ratio to the sphere of his influence, and the leader of a nation is less incensed at a rival's 52 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. triumph than the great man of a village. If we pursue this descending scale, what a desperately jealous i^erson the oracle of oyster-dredgers and cockle-women must be! Such was Barny O'Eeirdon. Seated one night at a public-house, the common resort of Barny and other marine curiosities, our hero got entangled in debate with what he called a strange sail — that is to say, a man he had never met before, and whom he was inclined to treat rather magisterially uj^on nautical subjects ; at the same time that the stranger was equally inclined to assume the high hand over him, till at last the new-comer made a regular out- break by exclaiming, "Ah, tare-an-ouns, lave aff your balder- dash, Mr. O'Eeirdon, by the powdhers o' war it's enough, so it is, to make a dog bate his father, to hear you goin' an as if you war Curlumberus or Sir Crustyphiz Wran, when ivery one knows the divil a farther you ivir wor, nor ketchin' crabs or drudgin' oysters." "Who towld you that, my Watherford Wondher?" rejoined Barny ; " what the dickins do you know about sayfarin' far- ther nor fishin' for sprats in a bowl wid your grandmother?" "Oh, baithershin!" says the stranger. "And who made you so bowld with my name?" demanded O'Eeirdon. " No matther for that," said the stranger ; " but if you'd like for to know, shure it's your cousin Molly Mullins knows me well, and maybe I don't know you and your's as well as the mother that bore you, aye, in throth; and shure I know the very thoughts o' you as well as if I was inside o' you, Barny O'Eeirdon." " By my sowl, thin, you know betther thoughts than your own, Mr. Whippersnapper, if that's the name you go by." " No, it's not the name I go by; I've as good a name as your own, Mr. O'Eeirdon, for want of a betther, and that's O'SuI- livan." "Throth, there's more than there's good o' them," said Barny. " Good or bad, I'm a cousin o' your own twice removed by the mother's side." LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 53 "And is it the Widda O'SuUi van's boy you'd be that left this come Candlemas four years?" " The same." " Tliroth thin you might know betther manners to your eldhers, though I'm glad to see you, any how, agin; but a little thravellin' puts us beyant ourselves sometimes," said Barny, rather contemptuously. "Throth, I nivir bragged out o' myself yit, and it's what I say, that a man that's only a fishiu' aft' the land all his life has no business to compare in the regard o' thracthericks wid a man that has sailed to Fingal." This silenced any further argument on Barny's part. Where Fingal lay was all Greek to him; but, unwilling to admit his ignorance, he covered his retreat with the usual address of his countrymen, and tuined the bitterness of debate into the cor- dial flow of congratuliition at seeing his cousin again. The liquor was freely circulated, and the conversation began to take a dift"erent turn, in order to lead from that which had neai'ly ended in a quarrel between O'Eeirdon and his relation. The state of the crops, county cess, road jobs, &c., became topics, and various strictures as to the utility of the latter were indulged in, while the merits of the neighbouring farmers were canvassed. "Why thin," said one, "that field o' whate o' Michael Coghlan is the finest field o' whate mortial eyes was ever set upon — divil the likes iv it myself ever seen far or near." "Throth thin, sure enough," said another, "it promises to be a fine crap anyhow, and myself can't help thinkin' it quare that Mickee Coghlan, that's a plain spoken quite (quiet) man, and simple like, should have finer craps than Pether Kelly o' the big farm beyant, that knows all about the great say ere ts o' the airth, and is knowledgeable to a degi'ee, and has all the hard words that iver was coined at his fingers' ends." " Faith, he has a power o' blasthogue about him sure enough," said the former speaker, " if that could do him any good, but he isn't fit to hould a caudle to Michael Coghlan in the regard o' farmiu'." " Why, blur an agers," rejoined the upholder of science, 54 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. "sure he met the Scotch steward that the lord beyant has, one day, that I hear is a wondherful edicated man, and was brought over here to show us all a patthern — well, Pether Kelly met him one day, and, by gor, he discoorsed him to that degree that the Scotch chap hadn't a word left in liis jaw." " Well, and what was he the betther o' having more prate than a Scotchman?" asked tlie other. "Why," answered Kelly's friend, "I think it stands to rayson that the man that done out the Scotch steward ouiiht to know somethin' more about farmin' than Mickee Coghlan." " Augh ! don't talk to me about knowing," said the other rather contemptuously. " Sure I gev in to you that he has a power o' prate, and the gift o' the gab, and all to that. I own to you that he has the-o-ry and the che-mis-thery, but he hasn't the craps. Now, the man that has the craps is the man for my money." " You're right, my boy," said O'Reirdon, with an approving thump of his brawny fist on the table, " it's a little talk goes far — doin^ is the thinof." "Ah, yiz may run down larnin' if yiz like," said the undis- mayed stickler for theory versus practice, "but larnin' is a fine thing, and sure where would the world be at all only for it, sure where would the staymers (steamboats) be, only for larnin'? " "Well," said O'Reirdon, "and the divil may care if we never seen them ; I'd rather dipind an wind an canvas any day than the likes o' them. What are they good for, but to turn good sailors into kitchen-maids, all as one, bilin' a big pot o' wather and oiliu' their fire-irons, and throwin' coals an the fire? Augh ! thim staymers is a disgrace to the say ; they're for all the world like ould fogies, smokin' from mornin' till nio-ht. and doin' no good." " Do you call it doin' no good to go fasther nor ships ivir wint before ? " " Pooh ; sure Solomon, queen o' Sheba, said there was time enough for all things." " Thrue for you," said O'Sullivan, "fair and aisy goes far in a day is a good ould sayin'." LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 65 " Well, maybe you'll own to the improvemint they're makiu' in the harbour o' Howth, beyant in Dublin, is some good." " We'll see whether it '11 be an improvemint first," said the obdurate O'Reirdon. " Why, man alive, sure you'll own it's the greatest o' good it is, takin' up the big rocks out o' the bottom o' the harbour." " Well, an' where's the wondher o' that 1 sure we done the same here." " Oh ! yis, but it was whin the tide was out and the rocks was bare ; but up in Howth they cut away the big rocks from under the say intirely." " Oh ! be aisy ; why, how could they do that ? " "Aye, there's the matther, that's what laruin' can do; and wondherful it is intirely ! and the way it is is this, as I hear it, for" I never seen it, but hard it described by the lord to some gintlemin and ladies one day in his garden, where I was helpin' the gardener to land some salary (celery). You see the ingineer goes down undher the wather intirely, and can stay there as long as he plazes." "Whoo! and what o' that? Sure I heerd the long sailor say, that come from the Aysthern Ingees, that the Ingineers there can a'most live undher wather ; and goes down lookin' for dimonds, and has a sledge-hammer in their hand, brakein' the dimonds when they're too big to take them up whole, all as one as men brakein' stones an the road." " Well, I don't want to go beyant that ; but the way the lord's ingineer goes down is, he has a little bell wid him, and while he has that little bell to ring, hurt nor harm can't come to him." " Arrah be aisy." " Divil a lie in it." " Maybe it's a blessed bell," said O'Reirdon, crossing himself. ^ 1 There is a relic In the possession of tlie Macnamara family, in the county Clare, called the "blessed bell of the Macnamaras ; " sonietinies used to swear upon in cases of extreme urgency, in preference to the Testament : for a violation of truth, when sworn upon the blessed bell, is looked upon by the peasantry as a sacrilege, placing the offender beyond the pale of salvation. 56 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. " No, it is not a blessed bell." " Why thill, now, do you think me sitch a born nat'hral as to give in to that ; as if the ringiif iv a bell, bavriii' it was a blessed bell, could do the like. I tell you it's unpossible." "Ah! nothin's un2:)ossible to God." "Sure I wasn't denyiii' that; but I say the bell is unpossible." " Why," said O'Sullivaii, " you see he's not altogether coni- plate in the demonstheration o' the mashine; it is not by the ringin' o' the bell it is done, but " "But what?" broke in O'Eeirdon impatiently. "Do you mane for to say there is a bell in it at all at all? " " Yes, I do," said O'Sullivan. " I towld you so," said the promulgator of the story. "Aye," said O'Sullivan, " but it is not by the ringin' iv the bell it is done." "Well, how is it done, then?" said the other with a half offended, half supercilious air. " It is done," said O'Sullivan, as he returned the look with interest, "it is done intirely be jommethry." " Oh! I undherstan' it now," said O'Reirdon, with an inimit- able aifectation of comj^rehension in the Oh ! — " but to talk of the ringin' iv a bell doin' the like is beyant the beyants intirely, barrin', as I said before, it was a blessed bell, glory be to God ! " "And so you tell me, sir, it is jommethry," said the twice discomfited man of science. " Yes, sir," said O'Sullivan with an air of triumph, which rose in proportion as he saw he carried the listeners along with him — " jommethry." " Well, have it your own way. There's them that won't hear rayson sometimes, nor have belief in larnin'; and you may say it's jommethry if you plaze ; but I heerd them that knows betther than iver you knew say " " Whisht, whisht ! and bad cess to you both," said O'Eeir- don, " what the dickens are yiz goin' to fight about now, and sitch good liquor before yiz? Hillo! there, Mrs. Quigley, bring uz another quart i' you plaze ; aye, that's the chat, another quart. Augh ! yiz may talk till you're black in the LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 57 face about your invintions, and your staymers, and bell-ringin', and gash, and railroads ; but here's long life and success to the man that invinted the impairil (imperial) quart ;^ that was the rail beautiful invintion," — and he took a long pull at the replenished vessel, which strongly indicated that the increase of its dimensions was a very agreeable measure to such as Barny. After the introduction of this and other quarts, it would not be an easy matter to pursue the conversation that followed. Let us, therefore, transfer our story to the succeeding morn- ing, when Barny O'Keirdon strolled forth from his cottage, rather later than usual, with his eyes bearing eye-witness to the carouse of the preceding night. He had not a headache, however; whether it was that Barny was too experienced a campaigner under the banners of Bacchus, or that Mrs. Quig- ley's boast was a just one, namely, " that of all the drink in lier house, there wasn't a headache in a hogshead of it," is hard to determine, but I rather incline to the strength of Barny's head. The above-quoted declaration of Mrs. Quigley is the favour- ite inducement held out by every boon companion in Ireland at the head of his own table. " Don't be afraid of it, my boys! it's the right sort. There's not a headache in a hogshead of it." This sentiment has been very seductively rendered by Moore, with the most perfect unconsciousness on his part of the likeness he was instituting. Who does not remember — " Friend of my soul, this goblet sip, 'Twill chase the pensive tear ; 'Tis not so sweet as woman's lip, But oh, 'tis more sincere : Like her delusive beam, 'Twill steal away the mind ; But, like affection's dream, It leaves no sting behind." » Until the assimilation of currency, weights, and measures between Eng- land and Ireland, the Irish quart was a nuich smaller measure than the Eng- lish. This part of the assimilation pleased Pat exceedingly, and he has no anxiety to have that repealed. 58 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. Is not this very elegantly saying, " There's not a headache in a hogshead of iti" But I am forgetting my story all this time. Barny sauntered about in the sun, at which he often looked up, under the shelter of compressed bushy brows and long- lashed eyelids, and a shadowing hand across his forehead, to see "what time o' day" it was; and, from the frequency of this action, it was evident the day was hanging heavily with Barny. He retired at last to a sunny nook in a neighbouring field, and stretching himself at full length, basked in the sun, and began "to chew the cud of sweet and bitter thought." He first reflected on his own undoubted weight in his little community, but still he could not get over the annoj^ance of the preceding night, arising from his being silenced by O'Sul- livan — " a chap," as he said himself, " that lift the place four years agon a brat iv a boy, and to think iv his comin' back and outdoin' his elders, that saw him runnin' about the place, a gassoon, that one could tache a few months before ; " 'twas too bad. Barny saw his reputation was in a ticklish position, and began to consider how his disgrace could be retrieved. The very name of Fingal was hateful to him ; it was a plague- spot on his peace that festered there incurably. He first thought of leaving Kinsale altogether; but flight implied so much of defeat, that he did not long indulge in that notion. No ; he would stay, " in spite of all the O'Sullivans, kith and kin, breed, seed, and generation." But at the same time he knew he should never hear the end of that hateful place, Fiugal ; and if Barny had had the power, he would have enacted a penal statute, making it death to name the accursed spot, wherever it was ; but not being gifted with such legis- lative authority, he felt Kinsale was no place for him, if he would not submit to be flouted every hour out of the four- and-twenty, by man, woman, and child, that wished to annoy him. What was to be done? He was in the perplexing situa- tion, to use his own words, "of the cat in the thripe shop" — he didn't know which way to choose. At last, after turning himself over in the sun several times, a new idea struck him. Couldn't he go to Fiugal himself? and then he'd be equal to LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 59 that upstart, O'Sullivau. No sooner was the thought engen- dered than Barny sprang to his feet a new man ; his eye brightened, his step became once more elastic — he walked erect, and felt himself to be all over Barny O'Reirdon once more. " Richard was himself again." But where was Fiugan — there was the rub. That was a profound mystery to Barney, which, until discovered, must hold him in the vile bondage of inferiority. The plain-dealing reader will say, " Couldn't he ask?" No, no ; that would never do for Barny — that would be an open admission of ignorance his soul was above, and, consequently, Barny set his brains to work to devise measures of coming at the hidden knowledge by some circuitous route that would not betray the end he was working for. To this purpose fifty stratagems were raised, and demolished in half as many minutes, in the fertile brain of Barny, as he strided along the shore, and as he was working hard at the fifty-first, it was knocked all to pieces by his jostling against some one whom he never perceived he was approach- ing, so immersed was he in his speculations, and on looking up, who should it prove to be but his friend " the Iqng sailor from the Aysthern Injees." This was quite a godsend to Barny, and much beyond what he could have hoped for. Of all the men under the sun, the long sailor was the man in a million for Barny's net at that minute, and accordingly he made a haul of him, and thought it the greatest catch he ever made in his life. Barny and the long sailor were in close companionship for the remainder of the day, which was closed, as the jireceding one, in a carouse ; but on this occasion there was only a duet perform- ance in honour of the jolly god, and the treat was at Barny's ex- pense. What the nature of their conversation during the period was I will not dilate on, but keep it as profound a secret as Barny himself did, and content myself with saying that Barny looked a much happier man the next day. Instead of wearing his hat slouched, and casting his eyes on the ground, he walked about with his usual unconcern, and gave his nod and jiassing word of "civiliiude" to every friend he met; he rolled his quid of tobacco about in his jaw with an air of superior enjoyment, 5 60 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. and if disturbed iu his narcotic amusement by a question, he took his own good time to eject "the lejoerous distilment" before he answered the querist, with a happy composure that bespoke a man quite at ease with himself. It was in this agreeable spirit that Baruy bent his course to the house of Peter Kelly, the owner of the "big farm beyant," before alluded to, in order to put in practice a plan he had formed for the fultilment of his determination of rivalling O'Sullivan. He thought it probable that Peter Kelly, being one of the "snuggest" men in the neighbourhood, would be a likely per- son to join him in a " sj^ec," as he called it (a favourite abbre- viation of his for the word speculation), and, accordingly, when he reached the " big farm-house," he accosted its owner with the usual " God save you I " " God save you kindly, Barny!" returned Peter Kelly; "an' what is it brings you here, Barny," asked Peter, " this fine day, instead o' bein' out in the boat?" — "Oh, I'll be out in the boat soon enough, and it's far enough too I'll be in her ; an' indeed it's jmrtly that same is bringin' me here to yourself." "Why, do you want me to go along wid you, Barny?" "Troth an' I don't, Mr. Kelly. You're a knowledgeable man an land, but I'm afeard it's a bad bargain you'd be at say." "And what wor you talking about me and your boat for?" " Why, you see, sir, it was in the regard of a little bit o' business, an' if you'd come wid me and take a turn in the praty field, I'll be behouldin' to you, and may be you'll hear somethin' that won't be disjjlazin' to you." "An' welkim, Barny," said Peter Kelly. When Barny and Peter were in the " praty field," Barny opened the trenches (I don't mean the potato trenches), but, in military parlance, he opened the trenches and laid siege to Peter Kelly, setting forth the extensive profits that had been realized by various "specs" that had been made by his neigh- bours in exporting potatoes. " And sure," said Barny, " why shouldn't yoxL do the same, and they here ready to your hand ? as much as to say. Why dovJt you profit by me, Peter Kelly ? LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. Gl And the boat is below there in the harbour, and, I'll say this much, the divil a betther boat is betune this and herself." " Indeed, I b'lieve so, Barny," said Peter, " for, considhering where we stand at this present, there's no boat at all at all betune us;" and Peter laughed with infinite pleasure at his own hit. " Oh ! well, you know what I mane, any how, an', as I said before, the boat is a dailint boat, and as for him that com- mands her — I b'lieve I need say nothin' about that;" and Barny gave a toss of his head and a sweep of his open hand, more than doubling the laudatory nature of his comment on himself. But, as the Irish saying is, " to make a long story short," Barny prevailed on Peter Kelly to make an export; but in the nature of the venture they did not agree. Barny had pro- loosed potatoes; Peter said there were enough of them already where he was going ; and Barny rejoined, that " praties were so good in themselves there never could be too much o' thim anywhere." But Peter being a knowledgeable man, and up to all the " saycrets o' the airth, and understanding the the-o- ry and the che-mis-thery," overruled Barny's proposition, and determined upon a cargo of scalpeens (which name they give to pickled mackerel), as a preferable merchandise, quite for- getting that Dublin Bay herrings were a much better and as cheajj a commodity, at the command of the Fingalians. But in many similar mistakes the ingenious Mr. Kelly has been paralleled by other speculators. But that is neither here nor there, and it was all one to Barny whether his boat was freighted with potatoes or scalpeens, so long as he had the honour and glory of becoming a navigator, and being as good as O'Sullivan. Accordingly the boat was laden and all got in readiness for putting to sea, and nothing was now wanting but Barny's orders to haul up the gaff and shake out the jib of his hooker. But this order Barny refrained to give, and for the first time in his life exhibited a disinclination to leave the shore. One of his fellow-boatmen at last said to him, " Why, thin, Barny O'Pteirdou, what the divil is come over you, at all at 62 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER, all? What's the inaynin' of your loitherin' about here, and the boat ready and a lovely fine breeze aff o' the land 1 " "Oh! never you mind; I b'lieve I know my own business any how, an' it's hard, so it is, if a man can't ordher his own boat to sail when he plazes." "Oh! I was only thinkin' it quare — and a pity more be- token, as I said before, to lose the beautiful breeze, and " " Well, just keep your thoughts to yourself, i' you plaze, and stay in the boat as I bid you, and don't be out of her on your apperl, by no manner o' manes, for one minit, for you see I don't know when it may be jjlazin' to me to go aboord an' set sail." " Well, all I can say is, I never seen you af eard to go to say before." "Who says I'm afeard?" said O'Eeirdon; "you'd betther not say that agin, or in throtb I'll give you a leatherin' that won't be for the good o' your health — throth, for three sthraws this minit I'd lave you that your own mother wouldn't know you with the lickin' I'd give you; but I scorn your dirty in- sinuation; no man ever seen Barny O'Eeirdon afeard yet, any how. Howld your prate, I tell you, and look up to your bet- thers. What do you know iv navigation? may be you think it's as aisy for to sail an a voyage as to go a start fishin'," and Barny turned on his heel and left the shore. The next day passed without the hooker sailing, and Barny gave a most sufficient reason for the delay, by declaring that he had a warnin' given him in a dhrame (Glory be to God), and that it was given to him to understand (under Heaven) that it wouldn't be looky that day. Well, the next day was Friday, and Barny, of course, would not sail any more than any other sailor who could help it, on this unpropitious day. On Saturday, however, he came run- ning in a great hurry down to the shore, and, jumping aboard, lie gave orders to make all sail, and taking the helm of the hooker, he turned her head to the sea, and soon the boat was cleaving the blue waters with a relocity seldom witnessed in so small a craft, and scarcely conceivable to those who have not seen the speed of a Kinsale hooker. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 63 " Why, thin, you tuk tlie notion mighty suddint, Barny," said the fisherman next in authority to O'Eeirdon, as soon as the bustle of getting the boat under way had subsided. "Well, I hope it's plazin' to you at last," said Barny, " throth, one 'ud think you were never at say before, you wor in such a hurry to be otl"; as newfangled a'most as a child with a play-toy." "Well," said the other of Barny's companions, for there were but two with him in the boat, " I was thinkin' myself, as well as Jimmy, that we lost two fine days for notliin', and we'd be there a'most, may be, now, if we sail'd three days agon." "Don't b'lieve it," said Barny emphatically. "Now, don't you know yourself that there is some days that the fish won't come near the lines at all, and that we might as well be castin' our nets an the dhry land as in the say, for all we'll catch if we start an an unlooky day; and sure I towld you I was wait- in' only till I had it given to me to undherstan' that it was looky to sail, and I go bail we'll be there sooner than if we started three days agon, for if you don't start with good look before you, faix, maybe it's never at all to the end o' your thrip you'll come." " Well, there's no use in talkin' about it now, any how; but when do you expec' to be there 1" " Why, you see we must wait antil I can tell how the wind is like to hould on, before I can make up my mind to that." " But you're sure now, Barny, that you're up to the coorse you have to run?" "See now, lay me alone and don't be crass-questionin'-me — tare-an-ouns, do you think me sitch a bladdherang as for to go to shuperinscribe a thing I wasn't aiquil to?" "No; I was only goiu' to ax you what coorse you wor goin' to steer." " You'll find out soon enough when we get there— and so I bid you agin lay me alone— just keep your toe in your pump. Shure I'm here at the helm, and a weight an my mind, and it's fitther for you, Jim, to mind your own business and lay me to mind mine; away wid you there and be handy, haul 64 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. taught that foresheet there, we must run close an the wind ; be handy, boys; make everything dhraw." These orders were obeyed, and the hooker soon passed to windward of a ship that left the harboui- before her, but could not hold on a wind with the same tenacity as the hooker, whose qualities in this jiarticular render it peculiarly suitable for the purposes to which it is applied, namely, pilot and fishing boats. We have said a ship left the hai'bour before the hooker had set sail, and it is now fitting to inform the reader that Barny had contrived, in the course of his last meeting with the " long sailor," to ascertain that this ship, then lying in the harbour, was going to the very place Barny wanted to reach. Barny's plan of action was decided ujjon in a moment ; he had now nothing to do but to watch the sailing of the ship and follow in her coui'se. Here was, at once, a new mode of navi- gation discovered. The stars, twinkling in mysterious brightness through the silent gloom of night, were the first encouraging, because vis- ible guides to the adventurous mariners of antiquity. Since then, the sailor, encouraged by a bolder science, relies on the unseen agency of nature, depending on the fidelity of an atom of iron to the mystic law that claims its homage in the north. This is one refinement of science upon another. But the beau- tiful simplicity of Barny O'Reirdon's jjhilosophy cannot be too much admired. To follow the ship that is going to the same place. Is not this navigation made easy 1 But Barny, like many a great man before him, seemed not to be aware of how much credit he was entitled to for his in- vention, for he did not divulge to his companions the original- ity of his proceeding ; he wished them to believe he was only proceeding in the commonplace manner, and had no ambition to be distinguished as the happy projector of so simple a prac- tice. For this pui'pose he went to windward of the ship and then fell off again, allowing her to pass him, as he did not wish even those on boai'd the ship to suppose he was following in their wake; for Barny, like all people that are quite full of one scheme, and fancy everybody is watching them, dreaded LIEE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 65 lest anyone should fathom his motives. All that day Barny held on the same course as his leader, keeping at a respectful distance, however, "for fear 'twould look like dodging her," as he said to himself ; but as night closed in, so closed in Barny with the ship, and kept a sharp look-out that she should not give him the slip in the dark. The next morning dawned, and found the hooker and ship comiJanions still; and thus matters proceeded for four days, during the entire of which time they had not seen land since their first losing sight of it, although the weather was cleai\ '• By my sowl," thought Barny, " the channel must be mighty wide in these parts, and for the last day or so we've been goin' purty free with a flowin' sheet, and I wondher we aren't closin' in wid the shoie by this time; or maybe it's far- ther off than I thought it was." His companions, too, began to question Barny on the subject, but to their queries he pre- sented an impenetrable front of composure, and said, " it was always the best plan to keep a good bowld offin'." In two days more, however, the weather began to be sensibly warmer, and Barny and his companions remarked that it was " goin' to be the finest sayson — God bless it — that ever kem out o' the skies for many a long year, and maybe it's the whate wouldn't be beautiful, and a great plenty of it." It was at the end of a week that the ship which Barny had hitherto kept a-head of him, showed symptoms of bearing down ujdoii him, as he thought, and, sure enough, she did ; and Barny began to con- jecture what the deuce the ship could want with him, and commenced inventing answers to the questions he thought it possible might be put to him in case the ship spoke him. He was soon put out of suspense by being hailed and ordered to run under her lee, and the captain, looking over the quarter, asked Barny where he was going. ' " Faith then, I'm goin' an my business," said Barny. " But where "? " said the cajitain. " Why, sure, an it's no matther where a poor man like me id be goin'," said Barny. " Only I'm curious to know what the deuce you've been fol- lowing my ship for, for the last week." 66 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. " FoUyin' your ship ! — Why thin, blur an agers, do you think it's follyin' yiz I am.1" " It's very like it," said the captain. " Why, did two people niver thravel the same road before?" " I don't say they didn't ; but there's a great difference be- tween a ship of seven hundred tons and a hooker." "Oh, as for that matther," said Barny, "the same high road sarves a coach and four and a low-back car ; the thrav- ellin' tinker an' a lord a' horseback." " That's very true," said the captain, " but the cases are not the same, Paddy, and I can't conceive what the devil brings 7/oti here." "And who ax'd you to consayve anything about it?" asked Barny, somewhat sturdily. " D — n me, if I can imagine what you'i'e about, my fine fellow," said the captain " and my own notion is that you don't know where the d — 1 you're going yourself." " O haithershin!" said Barny, with a laugh of derision. " Wliy then do you object to telll" said the captain. "Arrah sure, captain, an' don't you know that sometimes vessels is bound to sail undher sai/cret ordhers?" said Barny, endeavouring to foil the question by badinage. There was a universal laugh from the deck of the ship at the idea of a fishing-boat sailing under secret orders ; for, by this time, the whole broadside of the vessel was crowded with grinning mouths and wondering eyes at Barny and his boat. "Oh, it's a thrifle makes fools laugh," said Barny. " Take care, my fine fellow, that you don't be laughing at the wrong side of your mouth before long, for I've a notion that your cursedly in the wrong box, as canning a fellow as you thmk yourself. D — n your stupid head, can't you teU what brings you here?" " Why, thin, by gor, one id think the whole say belonged to you, you're so mighty bowld in axin questions an it. Why tare-an-ouns, sure I've as much right to be here as you, though I haven't as big a ship nor as fine a coat — but maybe I can take as good sailin' out o' the one, and has as bowld a heart under th' other." LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 67 •' Very well," said the captain, " I see there's no use in talk- ing to you, so go to the d — 1 your own way." And away bore the ship, leaving Barny in indignation and his companions in wonder. "An' why wouldn't you tell himi" said they to Barny. " Why, don't you see," said Barny, whose object was now to blind them, " don't you see, how do I know but maybe he might be goin' to the same place himself, and maybe he has a cargo of scalpeens as well as uz, and wants to get before us there." " Thrue for you, Barny," said they. " By dad you're right." And their inquiries being satisfied, the day passed as former ones had done, in pursuing the course of the ship. In four days more, however, the provisions in the hooker began to fail, and tliey were obliged to have recourse to the scali^eens for sustenance, and Barny then got seriously uneasy at the length of the voyage, and the likely greater length, for anything he could see to the contrary, and, urged at last by his own alarms and those of his com i)an ions, he was enabled, as the wind was light, to gain on the ship, and when he found himself alongside he demanded a parley with the captain. The captain, on hearing that the " hardy hooker," as she got christened, was under his lee, came on deck, and as soon as he appeared Barny cried out — " Why, thin, blur an agers, captain dear, do you expec' to be there soon?" "Where?" said the captain. " Oh, you know yourself," said Barny. " It's well for me I do," said the captain. "Thrue for you, indeed, your honor," said Barny, in his most insinuating tone ; " but whin will you be at the ind o' your voyage, captain jewel?" "I dare say in about three months," said the captain. " Oh, Holy Mother ! " ejaculated Barny ; " three months !— arrah, it's jokin you are, captain dear, and only want to freken me." "How should I frighten you?" asked the captain. 68 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVEE. " Why, thin, your honor, to tell God's thruth, I heerd you were goin' there, :ui' as I wanted to go there too, I thought I couldn't do better nor to folly a knowledgable gintleman like yourself, and save myself the throuble iv fiudin' it out." " And where do you think I mn going," said the captain. "Why, thin," said Barny, "isn't it to Fiugal?" " No," said the captain, " 'tis to Bengal." " Oh ! Gog's blakey !" said Barny, " what'U I do now at all at all]" The captain ordered Barny on deck, as he wished to have some conversation with him on what he, very naturally, con- sidered a most extraordinaiy adventure. Heaven help the captain ! he knew little of Irishmen or he would not have been so astonished. Baf-ny made his appearance. Puzzling ques- tions, and more puzzing answers, followed in quick succession between the commander and Barny, who, in the midst of his dilemma, stamped about, thumped his head, squeezed his caubeen into all manner of shapes, and vented his despair anathematically — " Oh ! my heavy hathred to you, you tarnal thief iv a long sailor, it's a purty scrape yiv led me into. By gor, I thought it was Fingal he said, and now I hear it is Jjingal. Oh ! the divil sweep you for navigation, why did I meddle or make wid you at all at all ! And my curse light on you, Terry O'Sul- livan, why did I iver came acrass you, you onlooky vagabone, to put sitch thoughts in my head? And so its Bingal and not i^ingal you're goin' to captain. "Yes, indeed, Paddy." " An' might I be so bowld to ax, captain, is Bingal much further nor Fingal?" " A trifle or so, Paddy." ' " Och, thin, millia murther, weirasthru, how 'ill I iver get there, at all at all?" roared out poor Barny. " By turning about, and getting back the road you've come, as fast as you can." "Is it ijack? Oh! queen iv heaven! and how will I iver get back?" said the bewildered Barny. "Then you don't know your course it appeai-s?" LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 69 "Oh faix I knew it, iligant, as long as your honour was before me." "But you don't know yovir course back?" " Why, indeed, not to say rightly all out, your honor." "Can't you steer?" said the captain. "The divil a betther hand at the tiller in all Kinsale," said Barny, with his usual brag. " Well, so far so good," said the captain. " And you know the points of the compass — you have a compass, I suppose?" "A compass! by my sowl an it's not let alone a compass, but a pair a compasses I have, that my brother the carpinthir left me for a keejjsake whin he wint abroad ; but, indeed, as for the points o' thim I can't say much, for the childher spylt thim intirely, rootiu' holes iu the flure." "What the plague are you talking about?" asked the cap- tain. " Wasn't your honor discoorsin' me about the points o' the compasses?" " Confound your thick head !" said the captain, "Why, what an ignoramus you must be, not to know what a compass is, and you at sea all your life? Do you even know the cardinal points?" " The cardinals ! faix an it's a great respect I have for them, your honor. Sure, ar'n't they belongin' to the pope?" " Confound you, you blockhead ! " roared the captain in a rage — " 'twould take the patience of the pope and the cardi- nals, and the cardinal virtues into the bargain, to keep one's temper with you. Do you know the four points of the wind?" " By my sowl I do, and more." " Well, never mind more, but let us stick to four. You're sure you know the four points of the wind?" " By dad it would be a quare thing if a sayfarin' man didn't know somethin' about the wind anyhow. Why, captain dear, you must take me for a nath'ral intirely to suspect me o' the like o' not knowin' all about the wind. By gor, I know as much o' the wind a'most as a pig." " Indeed I believe so," laughed out the captain. " Oh, you may laugh if you plase, and I see by the same 70 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. that you don't know about the pig, with all your edication, captuin," " Well, what about the pig." " Why, sir, did you never hear a pig can see the wind?" "I can't say that I did." " Oh thin, he does, and for that rayson who has a right to know more about it?" "You don't for one, I dare say, Paddy; and maybe you have a pig aboard to give you information." " Sorra taste your honor, not as much as a rasher o' bacon ; but it's maybe your honor never seen a pig tossin' up his snout, consaited like, and running like mad afore a storm." " Well, what if I have?'' " Well, sir, that is when they see the wind a comin'." "Maybe so, Paddy, but all this knowledge in piggery won't find you your way home ; and, if you take my advice, you will give up all thoughts of endeavouring to find your way back, and come on board. You and your messmates, I daresay, will be useful hands, with some teaching; but, at all events, I cannot leave you here on the open sea, with every chance of being lost." "Why thin, indeed, and I'm behowlden to your honor; and its the hoighth o' kindness, so it is, your off*er; and its nothin' else but a gentleman you are, every inch o' you ; but I hope it's not so bad wid us yet, as to do the likes o' that." " I think it's bad enough," said the captain, " when you are without a compass, and knowing nothing of your course, and nearly a hundred and eighty leagues from land." "An' how many miles would that be, captain?" " Three times as many." " I never learned the rule o' three, captain, and maybe your honor id tell me yourself." " That is rather moi-e than five hundred miles." "Five hundred miles!" shouted Barny. "Oh! the Lord look down on vis ! how 'ill we iver get back !" "That's what I say," said the ca])taiu; "and, therefore, I recommend you come aboard with me." "And where 'ud the hooker be all the time?" said Barny. LIFE SKETCH OP SAMUEL LOVEE. 71 " Let her go adrift," was the answer. " Is it the darhnt boat? Oh, by dad, I'll never bear o' that at all." "Well, then, stay in her and be lost. Decide upon the matter at once; either come on board or cast oif;" and the captain was turning away as he spoke, when Barny called after him. "Arrah, thin, your honor, don't go jist for one minit antil I ax you one word more. If I wint wid you, whin would I be home agin ? " " In about seven mouths." " Oh ! thin, that puts the wig an it at wanst. I darn't go at all." " Why, seven months are not long passing." " Thrue for you, in throth," said Barny, with a shrug of his shoulders. " Faix it's myself knows, to my sorrow, the half-year comes round mighty suddint, and the lord's agint comes for the thrifle o' rint ; and faix I know, by Molly, that nine months is not long in goin' over either," added Barny with a grin. "Then what's your objection, as to the time?" asked the captain. "Ari'ah, sure, sir, what would the woman that owns me do while I was away? and maybe it's break her heart the craythur would, thinkin' I was lost intirely ; and who'd be at home to take care o' the childher, and airn thim the bit and the sup, whin I'd be away? and who knows but it's all dead they'd be afore I got back? Och hone! sure the heart id fairly break in my body if hurt or hai-m kem to them through me. So, say no more, captain dear, only give me a thrifle o' direc- tions how I'm to make an ofler at gettin' home, and it's myself that will pray for you night, noon, and mornin' for that same." " Well, Paddy," said the cai^tain, " as you are determined to go back, in sjjite of all I can say, you must attend to me well while I give you as simple instructions as I can. You say you know the four points of the wind — north, south, east, and west." " Yis, sir." 72 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. "How do you kuow them? for I must see that you are not likely to make a mistake. How do you know the points?" " Why, you see, sir, the sun, God bless it, rises in the aist, and sets in the west, which stands to rayson ; and whin you stand bechuxt the aist and the west, the noi-th is forninst you." " And when the north is forninst you, as you say, is the east on your right or your left hand? " " On the right hand, your honor." " "Well, I see you know that much, however. Now," said the captain, " the moment you leave the ship, you must steer a north-east course, and you will make some land near home in about a week, if the wind holds as it is now, and it is likely to do so ; but, mind me, if you turn out of your course in the smallest degree you are a lost man." " Many thanks to your honor ! " " And how are you off for provisions 1 " " Why thiu, indeed, in the regard o' that same we are in the hoighth o' distress, for exceptin' the scalpeens, sorra taste passed our lips for these four days." "Oh! you poor devils!" said the commander, in a tone of sincere commiseration, " I'll order you some provisions on board before you start." " Long life to your honour ! and I'd like to drink the health of so noble a jintleman." "■ I understand you, Paddy, you shall have grog too." "Musha, the heavins shower blessins an you, I pray the Virgin Mary and the twelve apostles, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, not forgettin' Saint Pathrick." " Thank you, Paddy ; but keep all your prayers for yourself, for you need them all to help you home again." " Oh ! never fear, whin the thing is to be done, I'll do it, by dad, wid a heart and a half. And sure, your honor, God is good, an' will mind dissolute craythurs like uz on the wild oceant as well as ashore." While some of the ship's crew were putting the captain's benevolent intentions to Barny and his companions into jjrac- tice, by transferring some provisions to the hooker, the com- mander entertained himself by further conversation with LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 73 Barny, who was the greatest original he had ever met. In the course of their colloquy, Barny drove many hard queries at the captain lespecting the wonders of the nautical profession, and at last put the question to him plump. " Oh ! thin, captain dear, and how is it at all at all that you make your way over the wide says intirely to them furiin parts 1" "You would not understand, Paddy, if I attempted to explain to you." " Sure enough, indeed, your honor, and I ask your pardon, only I was curious to know, and sure no wondei'." " It requires various branches of knowledge to make a navi- gator." "Branches," said Barny, "by gor, I think it id take the whole three o' hnoivledge to make it out. And that place you are going to, sir, that Bingsl (oh bad luck to it for a Bmgid, it's the sore Bing&\ to me), is it so far off as you say '? " "Yes, Paddy, half round the world." "Is it round in airnest, captain dear? round about?" " Aye indeed." " Oh thin, ar'n't you afeard that when you come to the top and that you're obleeged to go down, that you'd go sliddherin away intirely, and never be able to stop maybe. It's bad enough, so it is, goin' down-hill by land, but it must be the dickens all out by wather." " But there is no hill, Paddy ; don't you know that water is always level?" " By dad its very flat anyhow, and by the same token it's seldom I trouble it; but sure, your honor, if the wather is level, how do you make out that it is round you go ! " " That is a part of the knowledge I was speaking to you about," said the captain. " Musha, bad luck to you, knowledge, but you're a quare thing ! and where is it Bingal, bad cess to it, would be at all at all?" " In the East Indies." "Oh! that is where they make the tai/, isn't it, sir?" " No, where the tea gi'ows is farther still." 74 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. " Farther ! why that must be the ind of the world in- tirely. And they dou't make it, then, sir, but it grows, you tell me." " Yes, Paddy." " Is it like hay, your honor? " " Not exactly, Paddy ; what puts hay in your head 1 " " Oh! only bekase I hear them call it BoAay." " A most logical deduction, Paddy." " And is it a great deal farther, your honor, the ta^ country is?" " Yes, Paddy, China it is called." "That's, I suppose, what we call Chaynee, sir?" " Exactly, Paddy." " By dad, I never could come at it rightly before, why it was nath'ral to dhrink tay out o' chaynee. I ax your honor's pardin for bein' throublesome, but I hard tell from the long sailor iv a place they call Japan in thim furrin parts, and is it there, your honor ? " " Quite true, Paddy." "And I suppose it's there the blackin' comes from." " No, Paddy, you're out there." "Oh! well, I thought it stood to rayson, as I heerd of japan blackin', sir, that it would be there it kem from, besides as the blacks themselves — the naygurs I mane, is in thim parts." " The negi'oes are in Africa, Paddy, much nearer to us." " God betune iiz and harm. I hope I would not be too near them," said Baruy. "Why, what's your objection?" " Arrah sure, sir, they're hardly mortials at all, but has the mark o' the bastes an thim." "How do you make out that, Paddy?" " Why, sure, sir, and didn't Nathur make thim wid wool on their heads, plainly makin' it undherstood to chrishthans that they wur little more nor cattle." " I think your head is a wool-gathering now, Paddy," said the captain laughing. " Paix maybe so, indeed," answered Barny good-humouredly. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 75 " but it's seldom I ever went out to look for wool and kem home shorn, any how," said he, with a look of triumph. " Well, you won't have that to say for the future, Paddy," said the captain, laughing again. " My name's not Paddy, your honor," said Barny, returning the laugh, but seizing the opportunity to turn the joke aside, that was going against him, "my name isn't Paddy, sir, but Barny," "Oh! if it was Solomon, yoii'U be bare enough when you go home this time; you have not gathered much this trip, Barny." " Sure I've been gathering knowledge, any how, your honor," said Barny, with a significant look at the captain, and a com- plimentai-y tip of his hand to his caubeen, "and God bless you for being so good to me." " And what's your name besides Barny 1 " asked the captain. " O'Eeirdon, your honour — Barny O'Reu-don's my name." "Well, Barny O'Eeirdon, I won't forget your name nor j'ourself in a hurry, for you are certainly the most original navigator I ever had the honor of being acquainted with." "Well," said Barny, with a triumphant toss of his head, "I have done out Terry O'SuIlivan at any rate; the devil a half so far he ever was, and that's a comfort. I have muzzled his clack for the rest iv his life, and he won't be comin' over us wid the pride iv his FingaX while I'm to the fore that was a'most at ^ingal." "Terry O'SuIlivan — who is he pray? " said the captain. " Oh ! he's a scut iv a chap that's not worth your axin for — he's not worth your honor's notice — a braggin' poor craythur. Oh! wait till I get home, and the devil a more braggin' they'll hear out of his jaw." " Indeed, then, Barny, the sooner you turn your face towards home the better," said the captain; " since you will go there is no need in losing more time." "Thrue for you, your honor — and sure it's well for me had the luck to meet with the likes o' your honor, that explained the ins and the outs iv it to me, and laid it all down as plain as prent." 76 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. "Ase you sure you remember my directions?" said the capt.ain. " Throth an I'll uiver forget them to the day o' my death, and is bound to pray, more betoken, for you and yours." " Don't mind praying for me till you get home, Barny ; but answer me, how are you to steer when you shall leave me 1 " " The Nor-Aist coorse, your honour, that's the coorse agin the w^orld." "Remember that! never alter that course till you see land —let nothing make you turn out of a North-East course." " Throth an' that id be the dirty turn, seein' that it was yourself that ordered it. Oh no, I'll depend my life an the Nor-Aist coorse, and God help any one that comes betune me an' it — I'd run him down if he was my father." " Well, good bye, Barny." " Good bye, and God bless you, your honor, and send you safe." " That's a wish you want more for yourself, Barny — never fear for me, but mind yourself welL" " Oh sure, I'm as good as at home, wanst I know the way, barrin' the wind is conthi'ary; sure the Nor-Aist coorse 'ill do the business complate. Good bye, your honour, and long life to you, and more power to your elbow, and a light heart and a heavy purse to you evermore, I pray the blessed Virgin and all the saints, amin!" and so saying, Barny descended the ship's side, and once more assumed the helm of the "hardy hooker." The two vessels now separated on their opposite courses. What a contrast their relative situations afforded ! Proudly the ship bore away under her lofty and spreading canvas, cleaving the billows before her, manned by an able crew and under the guidance of experienced officers. The finger of science to point the course of her progress, the faithful chart to warn of the hidden rock and the shoal, the log line and the quadrant to measure her march and prove her position. The poor little hooker cleft not the billows, each wave lifted her on its ci-est like a sea-bird; but thiee inexperienced fishermen to manage her; no certain means to guide them over the vast LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 77 ocean they had to traverse, and the holding of the "fickle wind" the only chalice of their escape from perishing in the wilderness of waters. By the one, the feeling excited is supremely that of man's power. By the other, of his utter helplessness. To the one, the expanse of ocean could scarcely be considered "trackless." To the other, it was a waste indeed. Yet the cheer that burst from the ship, at parting, was answered as gaily from the hooker as though the odds had not been so fearfully against her, and no blither heart beat on board the ship than that of Barny O'Reirdon. Happy light-heartedness of my poor countrymen ! they have often need of all their buoyant spirits ! How kindly have they been fortified by Nature against the assaults of adversity; and if they blindly rush into dangers, they cannot be denied the possession of gallant hearts to fight their way out of them. But each hurra became less audible; by degrees the cheers dwindled into faiutness, and finally were lost in the eddies of the breeze. The first feeling of loneliness that poor Bavny experienced was when he could no longer hear the exhilarating sound. The plash of the surge, as it broke on the bows of his little boat, was uninterrupted by the kindred sound of human voice; and, as it fell upon his ear, it smote upon his heart. But he rallied, waved his hat, and the silent signal was answered from the ship. " Well, Barny," said Jemmy, " what was the captain sayin' to you all the time you wor wid himi" " Lay me alone," said Barny; " I'll talk to you when I see her out o' sight, but not a word till thin. I'll look afther him, the rale gintleman that he is, while there's a topsail of his ship to be seen, and then I'll send my blessin' afther him, and pray for his good fortune wherever he goes, for he's the right sort and nothin' else." And Barny kept his word, and when his straining eye could no longer trace a line of the ship, the cap- tain certainly had the benefit of " a poor man's blessing." The sense of utter loneliness and desolation had not come 78 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. upon Barny until now; but he put his trust in the goodness of Providence, and, in a fervent mental outpouring of prayer, resigned himself to the care of his Creator. With an admir- able fortitude, too, he assumed a composure to his conq^janions that was a stranger to his heart; and we all know how the burden of anxiety is increased when we have none with whom to sympathize. And this was not all. He had to aflect ease and confidence, for Barny not only had no dependence on the firmness of his companions to go through the undertaking before them, but dreaded to betray to them how he had im- posed on them in the aflair. Barny was equal to all tins. He liad a stout heart, and was an admirable actor; yet, for the first hour after the ship was out of sight, he could not quite recover himself, and every now and then, unconsciously, he would look back with a wistful eye to the point where last he saw her. Poor Barny had lost his leader. The night fell, and Barny stuck to the helm as long as nature could sustain want of rest, and then left it in charge of one of his companions, with particular directions how to steer, and ordered, if any change in the wind occurred, that they should instantly awake him. He could not sleej) long, how- ever, the fever of anxiety was upon him, and the morning had not long dawned when he awoke. He had not well rubbed his eyes and looked about him when he thought he saw a ship in the distance approaching them. As the haze cleared away, she showed distinctly bearing down towards the hooker. On board the ship the hooker, in such a sea, caused surprise as before, and in about an hour she was so close as to hail, and order the hooker to run under her lee. " The divil a taste," said Barny; " I'll not quit my Nor-Aist coorse iov the king of Ingland, nor Bonyparty into the bargain. Bad cess to you ! do you think I've nothin' to do but to plaze you?" Again he was hailed. "Oh ! bad luck to the toe I'll go to you." Another hail. " Spake loudher you'd betther," said Barny, jeeringly, still holding on his course. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 79 A gun was fired ahead of liim. " By my sowl you spoke loudher that time, sure enough," said Barny. "Take care, Barny," cried Jemmy and Peter together. " Blur an agers, man ! we'll be kilt if you don't go to them." "Well, and we'll be lost if we turn out iv our Nor-Aist coorse, and that's as broad as it's long. Let them hit iz if they like ; sure it 'ud be a pleasanther death nor starvin' at say. I tell you agin I'll turn out o' my Nor-Aist coorse for no man." A shotted gun was fired. The shot hopped on the water as it passed before the hooker. " Phew ! you missed it like your mammy's blessin'," said Barny. " Oh murther !" said Jemmy, "didn't you see the ball hop aff the wathe/ forninst you. Oh murther, what 'ud we ha' done if we wor there at all at all?" " Why, we'd have taken the ball at the hop," said Barny, laughing, " accordin' to the ould sayin'." Another shot was ineff'ectually fired. " I'm thinking that's a Connaughtman that's shootin'," said Barny, with a sneer.^ The allusion was so relished by Jemmy and Peter that it excited a smile in the midst of their fears from the cannonade. Again, the report of the gun was followed by no damage. " Augh ! never heed them ! " said Barny, contemptuously. " It's a barkin' dog that never bites, as the owld sayin' says," and the hooker was soon out of reach of further annoyance. " Now, what a pity it was, to be sure," said Barny, " that I wouldn't go aboord to plaze them. Now, who's right? Ah, lave me alone always, Jimmy; did you ivir know me wrong yetl" " Oh, you may hillow now that you're out o' the wood," said Jemmy, "but, accordin' to my idays, it was runnin' a grate rishk to be contrary wid them at all, and they shootin' balls afther us." I This is an allusion of Barny's to a prevalent saying in Ireland, addressed to a sportsman who returns home unsuccessful, "So you've killed what the Connaughtman shot at." Besides, Barny herein indulges a provincial pique; for the people of Sluuster have a profound contempt for Connaughtmen. 80 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. "Well, what matther?" said Barny, "since they were only blind gunners, an' I knew it; besides, as I said afore, I won't turn out o' my Nor-Aist coorse for no man." " That's a new turn you tuk lately," said Peter. " What's the raison you're runnin' a Nor-Aist coorse now, an' we never hear'd iv it afore at all, till afther you quitted the big ship?" "Why, thin, are you sitcli an ignoramus all out," said Barny, "as not for to know that in navigation you must lie an a great many different tacks before you can make the port you steer for 1 " " Only I think," said Jemmy, " that it's back intirely we're goin' now, and I can't make out the rights o' that at all." " Why," said Barny, who saw the necessity of mystifying his companions a little, "you see the captain towld me that I kum a round, an' rekimminded me to go th'other way." " Faix, it's the first I ever heard o' goin' a round by say," said Jemmy. "Arrah, sure, that's part o' the saycrets o' navigation, and the varrious branches o' knowledge that is requizit for a navi- gathor; an' that's what the captain, God bless him ! and myself was discoorsin' an aboord ; and, like a rale gentleman as he is, Barny, says he ; Sir, says I. You've come the round, says he. I know that, says I, bekase I like to keep a good bowld offiu', says I, in contrairy places. Spoke like a good sayman, says he. That's my prenciples, says I. They're the right sort, says he. But, says he (no ofhnce), I think you wor wrong, says he, to pass the short turn in the ladie-shoes,i says he. I know, says I, you mane beside the three-spike headlan'. That's the spot, says he ; I see you know it. As well as I know my father, says I." " Why, Barny," said Jemmy, interrupting him, " we seen no headlan' at all." "Whisht, whisht!" said Barny, "bad cess to you! don't thwart me. We passed it in the night, and you couldn't see it. Well, as I was saying, I knew it as well as I know my father, says I, but I gev the preferrince to go the round, says I. You're a good sayman for that same, says he^ an' it would 1 Some offer Barny is making at latitudes. LIFE SKETCH OP SAMUEL LOVER. 81 be right at any other time than this present, says he, but it's onpossible now, tee-totally, on account o' the war, says he. Tare alive, says I, what war? An' didn't you hear o' the war] says he. Divil a word, says I. Why, says he, the Naygurs has made war on the king o' Chaynee, says he, bekase he refused them any more tay; an' with that, what did they do, says he, but they put a lumbaago on all the vessels that sails the round, an' that's the rayson, says he, I carry guns, as you may see ; and I'd rekimmind you, says he, to go back, for you're not able for thim, an' that's jist the way iv it. An' now, wasn't it looky that I kem acrass him at all, or maybe we might be cotch by the Naygurs, and ate up alive." "O, thin, indeed, and that's thrue," said Jemmy and Peter, " and when will we come to the short turn 1 " " Oh never mind," said Barny, " you'll see it when you get there ; but wait till I tell }'ou more about the captain and the big ship. He said, you know, that he carried guns afeard o' the Naygurs, and in throth it's the hoight o' care he takes o' them same guns ; and small blame to him, sure they might be the salvation of him. 'Pon my conscience, they're taken betther care of than any poor man's child. I heer'd him caution- in' the sailors about them, and given them ordhers about their clothes." "Their clothes !" said his two companions at once in much surprise; "is it clothes upon cannons?" " It's truth I'm tellin' you," said Barny. " Bad luck to the lie in it, he was talkin' about their aprons and their breeches." "Oh, think o' that!" said Jemmy and Peter in surprise. " An' 'twas all iv a piece," said Barny, " that an' the rest o' the ship all out. She was as nate as a new pin. Throth I was a'most ashamed to put my f ut an the deck, it was so clane, and she painted every colour in the rainbow ; and all sorts o' curosities about her ; and instead iv a tiller to steer her, like this darlin' craythur iv ours, she goes wid a wheel, like a coach all as one ; and there's the quarest thing you iver seen, to show the way, as the captain gav me to undherstan', a little round rowly-powly thing in a bowl, that goes waddlin' about as if it didn't know its own way, much more nor show anybody 82 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. their's. Tlirotli myself thought that if tliat's the way they're obliged to go, that it's with a great deal oi fear and thrimhlirS they find it out." Thus it was that Barny continued most marvellous accounts of the ship and the captain to his companions, and by keeping their attention so engaged, i^reveuted their being too inquis- itive as to their own immediate concerns, and for two days more Barny and the hooker held on their respective courses undeviatingly. The third day Barny's fears for the continuity of his nor- aist coorse were excited, as a large brig hove in sight, and the nearer she approached, the more directly she came athwart Barny's course. " May the divil sweep you," said Barny, " and will nothin' else sarve you than comin' forninst me that way ? Brig-a-hoy there ! " shouted Barny, giving the tiller to one of his mess- mates, and standing at the bow of his boat. "Brig-a-hoy there ! — bad luck to you, go 'long out o' my nor-aist coorse." The brig, instead of obeying his mandate, hove to, and lay right ahead of the hooker. " Oh look at this !" shouted Barny, and he stamped on the deck with rage — " look at the black- guards where they're stayin', just a-purpose to ruin an un- fort'nate man like me. My heavy hathred to you, quit this minit, or I'll run down an yes, and if we go to the bottom, we'll hant you for evermore — go 'long out o' that, I tell you. Tlie curse o' Crummil an you, you stupid vagabones, that won't go out iv a man's nor-aist coorse !" From cursing Barny went to praying as he came closer. " For the tendher marcy o' heavin and lave my way. May the Lord reward you, and get out o' my nor-aist coorse ! May angels make your bed in heavin and don't ruinate me this-a- way." The brig was immovable, and Barny gave up in des- pair, having cursed and prayed himself hoarse, and finished with a duet volley of prayers and curses together, apostrophiz- ing the hard case of a man being "done out of his nor-aist coorse." " A-hoy there !" shouted a voice from the brig, "put down your helm or you'll be aboard of us. I say, let go your jib and foresheet — what are you about, you lubbers?" LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 83 'Twas true that the brig lay so fair in Barny's course, that he would have been aboard, but that instantly the raanceuvre above alluded to was put in practice on board the hooker, as she swept to destruction towards the heavy hull of the brig, and she luffed up into the wing alongside her. A very pale and somewhat emaciated face appeared at the side, and ad- dressed Barny — "What brings you here?" was the question. " Throth thin, and I think I might betther ax what brings you here, right in the way o' my nor-aist coorse." " Where do you come from ? " " From Kinsale ; and you didn't come from a betther place, I go bail." "Where are you bound to?" "ToFingall." • " Fingall— Where's Fingall ? " " Why then ain't you ashaimed o' yourself an' not to know where Fingall is ? " " It is not in these seas." "Oh, that's all you know about it," says Barny. " You'i'e a small craft to be so far at sea. I supjiose yovi have provision on board?" " To be sure we have ; throth if we hadn't, this id be a bad place to go a beggin'." " What have you eatable ? " " The finest o' scalpeens." "What are scalpeens?" "Why you're mighty ignorant intirely," said Barny, "why scalpeens is pickled mackerel." "Then you must give us some, for we have been out of everything eatable these three days ; and even pickled fish is better than nothing." It chanced that the brig was a West India trader, which unfavourable winds had delayed much beyond the expected period of time on her voyage, and though her water had not failed, everything eatable had been consumed, and the crew reduced almost to helplessness. In such a strait the arrival of Barny O'Reirdon and his scalpeens was a most providential 84 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. succour to tliera, and a lucky chance for Barny, for he got in exchange for his pickled fish a handsome return of rum and sugar, much more than equivalent to their value. Barny lamented much, however, that the brig was not bound for Ireland, that he might practise his own peculiar system of navigation ; but as staying with the brig could do no good, he got himself put into his nor-aist coorse once more, and ploughed away towards home. The disposal of his cargo was a great god-send to Barny in more ways than one. In the first place, he found the most profitable market he could have had ; and, secondly, it enabled him to cover his retreat from the difiiculty which still was be- fore him of not getting to Fingall after all his dangers, and consequently being ojaen to discovery and disgrace. All these beneficial results were not thrown away upon one of Barny's readiness to avail himself of every point in his favour ; and, accordingly, when they left the brig, Barny said to his com- panions, " Why thin, boys, 'pon my conscience but I'm as proud as a horse wid a wooden leg this minit, that we met them poor unfort'nate craythers this blessed day, and was en- abled to extind our charity to them. Sure an' it's lost they'd be only for our comin' acrass them, and we, through the blessin' o' God, enabled to do an act of marcy, that is, feedin' the hungry ; and sure every good work we do here is before uz in heaven — and that's a comfort anyhow. To be sure, now that the scalpeens is sowld, there's no use in goin' to Fingall, and we may as well jist go home." " Faix I'm sorry myself," said Jemmy, " for Terry O'Sul- livan said it was an iligant place intirely, an' I wanted to see it." " To the divil wid Terry O'SuUivan," said Barny, " how does he know what's an iligant place? What knowledge has he of iligance ! I'U go bail he never was half as far a navigatin' as we — he wint the short cut I go bail, and never daai-'d for to vinture the round, as I did." " By dad we wor a great d;ile longer anyhow than he towld me he was." "To be sure we wor," said Barny, "he wint skulkin' by the LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 85 sliort cut, I tell you, and was afeard to keep a bowld offin' like me. But come, boys, let uz take a dlirop o' that bottle o' sper'ts we got out o' the brig. By gor, it's well we got some bottles iv it; for I wouldn't much like to meddle wid that darlint little kag iv it antil we get home." The rum was put on its trial by Barny and his companions, and in their ci'itical judgment was pronounced quite as good as the captain of the ship had bestowed upon them, but that neither of those speci- mens of spirit was to be compared to whisky. " By dad," says Barny, " they may rack their brains a long time before they'll make out a piirtier invintion than potteen — that rum may do very well for thim that has the misforthin not to know betther ; but the whisky is a more nath'ral sper't accordin' to my idays." In this, as in most other of Barny's opinions, Peter and Jemjuy coincided. Nothing particular occurred for the two succeeding days, during which time Barny most religiously pursued his JS^or- Aist coorse, but the third day produced a new and important event. A sail was discovered on the horizon, and in the direc- tion Barny was steering, and a couple of hours made him tolerably certain that the vessel in sight was an American; for though it was needless to say that he was not very conversant in such matters, yet from the frequency of his seeing Ameri- cans trading to Ireland, his eye had become sufficiently ac- customed to their lofty and tapering spars, and peculiar smartness of rig, to satisfy him that the ship before him was of transatlantic build ; nor was he wrong in his conjecture. Barny now determined on a manoeuvi-e, classing him amongst the first tacticians at securing a good retreat. Moreau's highest fame rests upon his celebrated retrograde movement through the Black Forest. Xenophon's greatest glory is derived from the deliverance of his ten thousand Greeks from impending ruin by his re- nowned retreat. Let the ancient and the modern hero "repose under the shadow of their laurels," as the French have it, while Barny O'Eeirdon's historian, with a pardonable jealousy for the honour of his country, cuts down a goodly bough of the classic 86 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. tree, beneath which our Hibernian hero may enjoy his "otiwn cum dignitate." Barny calculated the American was bound for Ireland, and as she lay almost as directly in the way of his " Nor-Aist coorse" as the West Indian brig, he bore up to and spoke her. He was answered by a shrewd Yankee captain. " Faix an' it's glad I am to see your honor again," said Barny. The Yankee had never been to Ireland, and told Barny so. " Oh throth I could'nt forget a gintleman so aisy as that," said Barny. " You're pretty considerably mistaken now, I guess," said the American. " Divil a taste," said Barny, with inimitable composure and pertinacity. " Well, if you know me so tarnation well, tell me what's my name"?" The Yankee flattered himself he had nailed Barny now. "Your name, is HI" said Barny, gaining time by repeating the question, " Why, what a fool you are not to know your own name." The oddity of the answer posed the American, and Barny took advantage of the diversion in his favour and changed the conversation. " By dad I've been waitin' here these four or five days, ex- pectin' some of you would be wantiu' me." "Some of us! — How do you mean?" "Sure an' arn't you from Amerikay?" "Yes; and what then?" "Well, I say I was waitin' for some ship or other from Amerikay, that ud be wantin' me. It's to Ireland you're go- in' I dar' say." "Yes." " Well, I suppose you'll be wantin' a pilot," said Barny. " Yes, when we get in shore, but not yet." "Oh, I don't want to hurry you," said Bamy. " What port ai-e you a jjilot of ? " "Why indeed, as for the matther o' that," said Barny, " they're all aiqual to me a'most." LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 87 "All?" said the American. " Why, I calculate you couldn't pilot a ship into all the ports of Ireland." "Not all at wanst (once)," said Barny, with a laugh, in which the American could not help joining. "Well, I say, what ports do you know best?" " Why thin, indeed," said Barny, " it would be hard for me to tell ; but wherever you want to go, I'm the man that'll do the job for you com plate. Where is your honor goin'?" " I won't tell you that — but do you tell me what ports you know best?" " Why, there's Watherford, and there's Youghall, an' Fin- gal." "Fingal! Where's that?" •' So you don't know where Fingal is. Oh, I see you'ie a sthranger, sir, — an' then there's Cork." " You know Cove then ?" "Is it the Cove o' Cork why?" "Yes." " I was bred an' born there, and pilots as many ships into Cove as any other two min out of it." Barny thus sheltered his falsehood under the idiom of his language. "But what brought you so far out to sea?" asked the captain. " We war lyin' out lookin' for ships that wanted pilots, and there kem on the terriblest gale o' wind off the land, an' blew us to say out intirely, an' that's the way iv it, your honor." " I calculate we got a share of the same gale; 'twas from the nor-east." "Oh, directly!" said Barny, "faith, you're right enough, 'twas the Nor-Aist coorse we wor an, sure enough; but no matther now that we've met wid you — sure we'll have a job home anyhow." " Well, get aboard then," said the American. " I will in a minit, your honor, whin I jist spake a word to my comrades here." "Why sure it's not goin' to turn pilot you are?" said Jemmy, in his simplicity of heart. 88 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. " Whisht, you omadhaun ! " said Barny, " or I'll cut the tongue out o' you. Now mind me, Pether. You don't undherstan' navigashin and the varrious branches o' know- ledge, au' so all you have to do is to folly the ship when I get into her, an' I'll show you the way home." Barny then got aboard the American vessel, and begged of the captain that, as he had been out at sea so long, and had gone through "a power o' hardship intirely," that he would be permitted to go below and turn in to take a sleep, "for in troth it's myself and sleep that is sthrayngers for some time," said Barny, " an' if your honor 'ill be plazed I'll be thankful if you won't let them disturb me antil I'm wanted, for sure till you see the land there's no use for me in life, and throtb I want a sleep sorely." Barny's request was granted, and it will not be wondered at that after so much fatigue of mind and body, he slept pro- foundly for four-and-twenty hours. He then was called, for land was in sight, and when he came on deck the captain ral- lied him upon the potency of his somniferous qualities and "calculated" he had never met anyone who could sleep "four- and-twenty hours on a stretch before." " Oh, sir," said Barny, rubbing his eyes, which were still a little hazy, "whiniver I go to sleep I pai/ attintion to it." The laud was soon neared, and Barny put in charge of the ship, when he ascertained the first landmark he ^was ac- quainted with ; but as soon as the Head of Kinsale hove in sight Barny gave a " whoo," and cut a caper that astonished the Yankees, and was quite inexplicable to them, thoufrh, I flatter myself, it is not to those who do Barny the favour of reading his adventures. "Oh! there you are, my darlint ould head! an' where's the head like you? throth it's little I thought I'd ever set eves an your good-looking faytures agin. But God's good!" In such half -muttered exclamations did Bamy apostrophize each well-known point of his native shore, and w^hen opposite the harbour of Kinsale he spoke the hooker that was some- what astern, and ordered Jemmy and Peter to put in there and tell Molly immediately that he was come back, and would LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 89 be with her as soon as he could after piloting the ship into Cove. " But an your apperl don't tell Pether Kelly o' the big farm, nor indeed don't mintion to man nor mortial about the navigation we done antil I come home myself and make them sensible of it, bekase Jemmy and Pether, neither o' yiz is aqual to it, and doesn't undherstan' the branches o' knowledge requizit for discorsin' o' navigation." The hooker put into Kinsale, and Barny sailed the ship into Cove. It was the first shij) he ever had acted the pilot for, and his old luck attended him; no accident befell his charge, and what was still more extraordinai'y, he made the American believe he was absolutely the most skilful pilot on the station. So Barny pocketed his pilot's fee, swore the Yankee was a gentleman, for which the rei^ublican did not thank him, wished him good-bye, and then pushed his way home with what Barny swore was the easiest made money he ever had in his life. So Barny got himself paid ior piloting the ship that showed him the xoay home. All the fishermen in the world may throw their caps at this feat — none but an Irishman, I fearlessly assert, could have executed so splendid a coup de finesse. And now, sweet readers (the ladies I mean), did you ever think Barny would get home? I would give a hundred of pens to hear all the guesses that have been made as to the pro- bable termination of Barny 's adventure. They would fui'uish good material, I doubt not, for another voyage. But Barny did make other voyages, I can assure you; and perhaps he may appear in his character of navigator once more, if his dar- ing exploits be not held valueless by an ungrateful world, as in the case of his great predecessor, Columbus. As some curious persons (I don't mean the ladies) may wish to know what became of some of the characters who have figured in this tale, I beg to inform them tliat Molly continued a faithful wife and timekeeper, as already alluded to, for many years. That Peter Kelly was so pleased with his share in the profits arising from the trip, in the ample leturn of runi and sugar, that he freighted a large brig with scalpeens to the West Indies, and went supercargo himself. 90 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. All lie got in return was the yellow fever. Barny i^rofited better by his share; he was enabled to open a public-house, which had more custom than any ten within miles of it. Molly managed the bar very efficiently, and Barny "discoorsed" the customers most seductively; in short, Barny, at all times given to the marvellous, became a greater romancer than ever, and for years attracted even the gentle- men of the neighbourhood, who loved fun, to his house, for the sake of his magnanimous mendacity. As for the hitherto triumphant Terry O'Sullivan, from the moment Barny's Bingal adventure became known, he was ob- liged to fly the country, and was never heard of more, while the hero of the houker became a greater man than before, and never was addressed by any other title afterwards than that of The Commodoee. CHAPTER VI. 1836-1841: Lover's Songs. Song-writing— Open Vowels— Musical Rhythm— Burns and Moore— Lover's English and Irish Songs— Rory O'More Introduces a New Era- Its Popu- larity—Followed by Others of Similar Character— Purity and Ptcflnement —Melodies and Accompaniments— His Own Voice— Various Songs Par- ticularized—The Ptoad of Life. It was well said by a writer in the Dublin University Magaziiu, that, " as poet, painter, and dramatist, Lover has won sufficient celebrity to make the fame of three different men." This chapter we shall devote to his admirable songs. In the preface to the fifth edition of his Poetical Works Lover points out the leading requisites of good song-writing, and, with his own double insight as poet and musician, he hits the truth. He reminds us that the work must be within small LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 91 compass, which involves the power of condensing; and that, if written to any particular tune, it may require a peculiar metre, taxing ingenuity. "A song," says he, " must be constructed for singing rather than for reading, and hence, to accommodate the vocalist, it should be built up of words having as many open voAvels and as free from guttural and hissing sounds as possible ; and in English these requirements are very difficult. Again, a song must suit the peculiar rhythm of some air, whence a disadvantage arises to the author when his song is read by those who have never heard the air to which it is adapted. The lines may be admirably fitted to the air, and sound most smoothly when sung, but when submitted to ordinary reading may appear rough, if not absolutely faulty in metre, and hence nearly all songs are less likely to be euphonious Avhen read than Avhen sung. A critic may consider a song to want grandeur or vigour of ex- pression — a want Avhich the writer himself has lamented very probably — but he has been compelled to use good singing words rather than reading ones ; and this should be ever kept in mind when we read songs that have been made for singing. Now, every song in this collection was not only made for singing, but has been sung." He points out that some of the most charming lyrics of the great poets, giving instances from Milton, Byron, and Shelley, however admirable for reading, are not at all adapted for singing. At the same time he points to Burns and Moore, as having been able fully to master all such difficulties, and at the same time possessing great poetic power. He says that Burns, who wrote words for about two hundred and fifty melodies, Avas, in this walk, supreme; "in his best examples, the firmness of his rhythm and the musical flow of his verse have never been surpassed; and his happy selection of open-vowcllcd 7 92 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. words recommends his compositions to vocal purposes. The simple lines, — " ' Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fairl' open the mouth as agreeably as Italian." As an example of felicitous adaptation from Moore, who admiringly followed Burns, he quotes "The Minstrel Boy to the War is Gone," marked in longs and shorts, showing that the music is more than essential, and absolutely increases the poAver of the lines — the remarkable succession of long sounds, in the noble air, giving a grandeur of effect to the poem which otherwise is wanting. Thus, syllabically, it >;eads : — The minstrel boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you'll find him; His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him ; while, it is as follows, when rhythmically accentuated by the music: — Irish air— The Moreen, i ^^^^ 5E :* J^ The min-strel boy to the war is gone. In the I g^^l j =^Njh£: ^— r— * = ranks of death you'll find him ; His fa-ther's sword he has m =(?=?= c-rr f S^~^^ gird - ed on ; And his wild harp slung be - hind him. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 93 Observe here the remarkable succession of long sounds, and the consequent grandeur of effect given to the poem by this noble air. Of song he further adds: — "Shak- spere says, — "'One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;' and it is this kindred influence that a song should possess, I think, beyond every other quality. To awaken sym- pathy by the simplest words will go further in a song than pomp of language and elaborate polish. But simplicity should never descend into baldness, or the stringing of nonsensical rhymes together. A song should ham a thought in it — and that thought gracefully expressed at least; and if the tone of the expression touch the head or the heart of the listener — appeal either to his fancy or his feeling — it has in it, I believe, the germ of success. If you preach too much, or philosophize too much, or if passion, like the Queen in the play in 'Hamlet,' 'doth protest too much,' the chances are the song is overdone. The feelings you want to excite in a song should be rather suggested than ostentatiously paraded; and in pro- portion as this is skilfully done, the song, I believe, proves successful. Of course there are exceptions to this, but my experience supports me in the belief that my notions on this subject are not far wrong." Lover admirably exemplifies, in his own songs, the rules he has so well laid down, and, in mastery over the mechanism of musical song-writing, he ranks after Burns and Moore. Out of his three hundred published poems two hundred and sixty-three are songs — true lyrics full of love, pathos, and humour. Lover composed the music and accompaniments for about two hundred of them, and tastefully adapted the 94 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. others to native airs. His songs, as Ave have ah-eady said, may be broadly divided into two classes — English and Irish. The English are attractive and pleasing, whether seri- ous, airy, or humorous; tender, graceful, or sentimental; or combining various of these qualities; and sj^eedily made room for themselves in the drawing-room, even when they had to contend with the matchless melodies of Moore. His Irish peasant songs, however, with their love and humour, are indigenous to the soil, and Hibernian to the core, whether in their gaiety or their tenderness. Eacy, delightfully natural, and thoroughly original, they struck out a path entirely new, and are unique in modern literature. The characteristics of the Irish peasant, before Lover's time, were absurdly and falsely supposed by comic song- writers, as Lover himself tells us, to be chiefly "expletive oaths, 'whack fol de rols,' 'hurroos,' 'pigs,' pratees, brogues, shillelahs, jewels, and joys; while coarseness and vulgarity were the offensive substitutes for wit." On one occasion. Lover, who had hitherto only wnritten sentimental songs, chanced to comment on the impos- tures of the current popular specimens to his bright country-woman Lady Morgan, when she exclaimed, "Do you think you could do better?" "At all events, I'll try," he at once responded. The result Avas the song of " Rory O'More;" which, set by him to a well-known lively and appropriate Irish air, immediately flew over the kingdom, crossed the ocean, and, like the Union Jack, made the circuit of the world, becoming a favourite in every city and village of Britain, America, and the colonies. From the draAnng-room it reached the street, and Avas sung, or listened to, by every man, Avoman, or LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 95 child, ground by every street-organ, and played by every military band. " On the occasion of Her Majesty Queen Victoria's coronation," we are told in The Lyrics of Ireland, " every band along the line of procession to Westminster Abbey played ' Eory O'More ' during some part of the day, and, finally, it was the air the band of the Life Guards played as they escorted Her Majesty into the park on her return to Buckingham Palace." ROEY O'MOEE; OR, GOOD OMENS.i Young Rory O'More courted Kathleen Bawn ; He was bold as a hawk, — she as soft as the dawn ; He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, And he thought the best way to do that was to teaze. "■ Now, Rory, be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry, (Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye), " With your tricks I don't know, in troth, what I'm about, Faith you've teazed till I've put on my cloak inside out." " Oh ! jewel," says Rory, " that same is the way You've thrated my heart for this many a day ; And 'tis plaz'd that I am, and why not to be sure? For 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. " Indeed, then," says Kathleen, " don't think of the like, For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike ; The ground that I walk on he loves, I'll be bound," " Faith," says Roi-y, " I'd rat-her love yoio than the ground." " Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go ; Sure I drame ev'ry night that I'm hating you so !" " Oh," says Rory, " that same I'm delighted to hear, For drames always go by conthrairies, my dear ; Oh ! jewel, keep draming that same till you die, And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie ! 1 By permission of Messrs. George Eoutledge & Sons. 96 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER, And 'tis plaz'd that I am, and why not to be sure? Since 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. " An-ali, Kathleen, my darlint, you've teazed me enough, Sure I've tlirash'd for your sake Dinny Grimes and Jim Duff; And I've made myself, drinking your health, quite a bciste, So I think, after that, I may talk to the priest." ^ Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck, So soft and so white, without freckle or speck, And he look'd in her eyes that were beaming with light, And he kiss'd her sweet lips; — don't you think he was right] " Now Rory, leave off, sir ; you'll hug me no more, That's eight times to-day you have kissed me before." " Then here goes another," says he, " to make sure, For there's luck in odd numbers," says Rory O'More. The unprecedented success of this song encouraged him to work the new and rich vein he had hit upon, and " Rory " was gradually followed by some forty lyrics of like character, some of which attained almost as great a popularity as their buoyant forerunner. Thus, we come to have a group of songs which depict the Irish peasant as he is, with his keen relish for a joke and innocent delight in its own absurdity, his tender pathos and racy humour, the comical twists in his reason- ing, his quick-sightedness, warm-heartedness, and droll arch-impudence. With Lover's purity, refinement, and instinctive love of beauty, his songs strike a sympathetic chord, which vibrates, true to heaven, in the heart of every human being; while, at the same time, fine bright touches of humour sparkle in most of them. As a musical composer Lover had the gift of melody largely developed. The airs which he composed for his songs were simple, symmetrical, and compact in structure, 1 Paddy's mode of asking a girl to name the day. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 97 natural and expressive in phrase and sequence, and all of tliem tender, sweet, and singable. These qualities were such as might be expected of one in whom the lyric faculty was bird-like — words and melody welling up together as the complement of each other. On one occasion he told his daughter that he never wrote a song in his life " except he couldn't help it," and he never attempted to pen the words, but the air came simultaneously. The accomjjaniments, also, to his songs were ever effective and pleasing; and they possessed a very valuable quality, too often neglected — that of giving full support to the voice. Lover's own voice was slight, but powerful in its effect, from being very sweetly modulated, clearly articu- lated, expressive, and true. When singing in the social circle he could send deliciously charming phrases made up of humour and tender sentiment steeped in genuine feeling, and music- winged, directly home to the heart. Such passages excited universal sympathy, because they were the sincere emo- tional outcome of his own pure and refined nature. We have heard him rendering many of his songs, and on one occasion, in his own house, as he sang " The Angel's Whisper," the tears were fast trickling down his cheeks. Genuine feeling, whether sad or glad, is ever the source of sj-mpathy. Hence eminent foreign vocalists were wont to cluster admiringly round Lover as he sang, looking, if not saying to each other, "This is the real thing after all!" These songs of his appeared, from time to time, as they were produced, in the form of music sheets, which com- manded an enormous, and some of them an unexampled sale. Groups of them were afterwards collected and published in volumes without the music — such as Songs 98 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. of the Superstitions of Ireland. Then his poems were issued, in 1839, in one volume, entitled Songs and Ballads; subsequently, in 1858, a fourth edition of the same was called for, and published by Messrs. Houlston and Wright.^ Having said thus much of Lover's songs, we shall now devote the remainder of this chapter to particularize and give the reader several specimens and the flavoui' of a few of them. "Eory O'More" — with its coaxing humour, delicate sense of beauty, and clever use of native superstitions — we have already given at length, as being the first of an entirely new departure in lyric Aviiting, — introducing a fresh species of comic Irish love song, vigorous without being coarse, natural in its pleasantries, tasteful, humorous, and tender. Some of the forty others which he wrote in the same strain are almost equally well known — songs such as "Molly Carew," " I'm Not Myself At All," "The Pastoral Ehapsody," and "Widow Machree." These, with some of his tender lyrics, such as " The Angel's Whisper " and "The Eoad of Life," will carry his name down the stream of time till it ceases to run. "Molly Carew" is, if a difference, even cleverer than " Eory O'More," and, but for its being set to more diffi- cult music — the Planxty Reilly — would, in all probability, have been as popular as its predecessor. The odd, eccen- tric surface transitions which abound in it are all so charmingly put, while even the very humour itself, sur- rounded by an air of tenderness, exhibits unmistakable earnestness of purpose. ■ In 1868 a fifth edition of Songs and Ballads was issued by Messrs. George Routledge & Sons; by whose permission we quote half a dozen of Lover's songs. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 99 MOLLY CAEEW.i Och hone ! and what will I do ? Sure my love is all crost Like a bud in the frost ; And there's no use at all in my going to bed, For 'tis dhrames and not sleep comes into my head, And 'tis all about you, My sweet Molly Carew— And indeed 'tis a sin and a shame ; You're complater than Nature In every feature. The snow can't compare With your forehead so fair, And I rather would see just one blink of your eye Than the purtiest star that shines out of the sky, And by this and by that. For the matter o' that, You're more distant by far than that same! Och hone! iceirasthru ! I'm alone in this world without you. Och hone! but why should I spake Of your forehead and eyes, When your nose it defies Paddy Blake, the schoolmaster, to put it in rhyme? Tho' there's one Burke, he says, that would call it snuhWmc, And then for your cheek! Throth, 'twould take him a week Its beauties to tell, as he'd rather. Then your lips! oh, macJirea! In their beautiful glow. They a patthern might be For the cherries to grow. 'Twas an apple that tempted our mother, we know, For apples were scarce, I suppose, long ago; 1 By permission of Messrs. George Routledge & Sons. 100 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. But at this time o' day, 'Pen my conscience I'll say Such cherries might tempt a man's father! Och hone! weirasthru! I'm alone in this woi'ld without you. Och hone! by the man in the moon, You taze me all ways That a woman can plaze, For you dance twice as high with that thief Pat Magee, As when you take share of a jig, dear, with ms-, Tho' the piper I bate, For fear the owld chate Wouldn't play you your favourite tune; And when you're at mass My devotion you crass. For 'tis thinking of you I am, Molly C'arew, While you wear, on purpose, a bonnet so deep, That I can't at your sweet purty face get a peep : — Oh, lave off that bonnet. Or else I'll lave on it The loss of my wandherin' sowl! Och hone ! weirasthru! Och hone! like an owl, Day is night, dear, to me, without you! Och hone! don't provoke me to do it; For there's girls by the score That loves me — and more. And you'd look very quare if some morning you'd meet My weddin' all marchin' in pride down the sthreet ; Throth, you'd oj^en your eyes. And you'd die with surprise. To think 'twasn't you was come to it! And faith Katty Naile, And her cow, I go bail, Would jump if I'd say, " Katty Naile, name the day." LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 101 And the' you're fair and fresh as a morning in May, While she's short and dark like a cowld winther's day, Yet if you don't repent Before Easther, when Lent Is over I'll marry for sjiite! Och hone! iveirasthru! And when I die for you, My ghost will haunt you every night. This poem was cleverly rendered into Latin by Father Prout. As a specimen of felicitous translation, we quote the first verse : — Heu! heu! Me tsedet, me piget 0! Cor mihi riget O! Ut flos sub frigido Et nox ipsa ml tum . Cum vado dormittim Infausta, insomnis Transcurritur omnis. . Hoc culpS, fit tuS Mi, Mollis Carua; Sic mihi illudens, Nee pudens. — Prodigium tu, re Es, vera, naturte, Canditior lacte; Plus fronte cum hac te, Cum istis ocellis. Plus omnibus stellis Mehercule vellem. — Sed heu, me imbellem! A me, qui sum fidus Vel ultimum sidus Non distat te magis . . Quid agis! Heu! heu! nisi tu Me ames, Pereo! pillaleu! " I'm Not Myself At All " is the complaint of an un- happy swain, whom Lover, inimitably and drolly, puts upon argument, — the last verse winding up thus : — " I'll be not myself at all, Molly dear, Molly dear, Till you my own I call! Since a change o'er me there came, Sure you might change your name — And 'twould just come to the same, Molly dear, 102 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEI. LOVER. 'Twould just come to the same : For, if you aud I were one, All confusion would be gone, And 'twould simplify the matther intirely; And 'twould save us so much bother, When we'd both be one another — So listen now to rayson, Molly Brierly; Oh, I'm not myself at all!" In the same way, too, the easy lover in the " Pastoral Ehapsocly," who asks Molly to be his bride, and is told he is "too young," says, "My jewel, I'll mend o' that;" and when she adds, that, besides, he is " too poor," he thus, in accordance Avith true Hibernian ideas of political economy, tries to overcome her prudent scruples by pointing out to her that "The pur ty little spaiTows Have neither ploughs nor harrows. Yet they live at aise, aud are contint, Bekuse, you see, they pay no rint; They have no care nor flustherin', About diggin' or industherin' ; No foolish pride their comfort hurts — For they eat the flax, and wear no shirts — • For wealth is an invintion, &c. &c. Tlie wise should never mintion. And flesh is grass, and flowers will fade. And it's better be wed than die an owld maid." In " Widow Machree," mark how comically yet earnestly Pat ranges through the esthetics of dress, the conjugal tendencies of creation, the fireside affinities of the shovel and tongs, ghostly fears and the whisperings of Hope, in order to bring every possible argument and analogy to bear in deciding the wavering matron to accept him ! LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 103 WIDOW MACHREE.i Widow 3Iachree, it's no wonder you trown, Och hone ! Widow Machree ; Faith, it ruins your looks, that same dirty black g By permission of Messrs. George Routledge & Sons. 112 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. When hope the young heart is caressing, And our griefs are but liglit and but few: Yet in life, as it swiftly flies o'er us, Some musing for sadness we find ; In youth — we've our troubles before us, In age — we leave pleasure behind. Ay — Trouble's the post-boy that drives us Up-hill till we get to the top. While Joy's an old servant behind us We call on for ever to stop. "Oh, put on the drag, Joy, my jewel! As long as the sunset still glows ; Before it is dark 'twould be cruel To haste to the hill-foot's repose." But there stands an inn we must stop at, An extinguisher swings for the sign ; That house is but cold and but narrow — But the prospect beyond it — divine ! And there — whence there's never returning, When we travel— as travel we must — May the gates be all free for our journey ! And the tears of our friends lay the dust ! CHAPTER VII. 1842-1846: Novels— Failing Eyesight— Irish Entertainment — Stories. Handy Andy— Dr. R. Shelton Mackenzie's Account of it— Treasure Trove— Falling Eyesiglit— Irish Entertainment In London— In the Provinces- Bulls and Blunders— St. Patrick and the Sarpent— It's Mighty Improvin' —The Irish Post-boy. In 1842 Lover published Handy Andy, his best novel. The hero is a practical Dundreary of low life, whose thoughts are always in a state of mixture. His constant MFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 113 and inherent blundering brings him into many a queer trouble; which, however, his buoyant Celtic spirit enables him to get over, if it does not always extricate him from the fixes into which he gets. Andy's blunderings are artistically managed, so that they complicate the story and evolve the plot, as well as call forth laughter at their absm'dity. The thread on which the various sketches are strung is very slight. Lover himself often said that, in writing novels, dialogue was easy to him, but lolotting he always found to be the difficulty. In Andy, however, the exuberant flow of humour, clever character-painting, and the crowd of amusing incidents are all so lifelike, vigorous, and droll, that it is questionable if, of their kind, they are elsewhere equalled. Dr. E.. Shelton Mackenzie, an Irish M.D, who knew Lover personally, gives us some particulars regarding this novel. Mackenzie, after editing a newspaper in Staffordshire, and being engaged on literary work in Lon- don, in 1852 crossed to New York, where he became connected with several journals. For over twenty years (since 1857) he has been literary editor of the Philadel- phia Press, and his criticisms are marlfed by scholarship, fairness, and acumen. " Samuel Lover, an Irishman," says he, " was the author of many admirable ballads, humorous and pa- thetic, which are likelj^ to last as long even as Moore's admirable melodies. I need only mention ' Eory O'More,' 'Molly Carew,' 'Widow Machree,' 'The Bowld Sojer Boy,' 'The Low-backed Car,' 'The Angel's Whisper,' 'The Four-leaved Shamrock,' 'The Snow,' &c. Lover also wrote novels and plays, of Avliich Handy Andy is the best known in this country, owing to its having been several times dramatized. 114 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. I *' Handy Andy, a Tale of Irish Life, which now consti- tutes a vokime of nearly four hundred pages octavo, cannot be said to have much more than a mere thread of a story, being made up of separate sketches, strung together in the slightest manner. "When Benikys Miscellany was begun, in January, 1837, Charles Dickens (then a young man of five-and- twenty, whose Pickwick Papers had just made that great hit which, changing the whole aim and purpose of his life, converted him from a sharp and ready newspaper reporter into a great author and teacher) engaged the aid of Lover's pen and pencil; and a sketch, entitled Handy Andy, Avritten and illustrated by him, appeared in the first number of Bentley's Miscellany, edited by ' Boz.' " That sketch, of ten pages, hit the public taste, which, thanks to the genius of Charles Lever, had much affected 1 Irish humour of late, at that time. Two other Handy Andy sketches appeared in due course, and then Mr. Bentley, the publisher, quarrelled with Mr. Lover the f author, and there was an end of the latter's contributions. "So matters remained for five years, when Lover brought out Handy Andy as a monthly story, after the fashion set by Charles Dickens — writing a conclusion ■ \\'hich made it something, though not much, of a regular } tale, giving two illustrations, etched as well as drawn by himself, to each of the twelve numbers, and being I his own publisher — or much the same thing, seeing that his brother, Frederick Lover, was the ostensible pub- lisher, in a little twelve by fourteen feet office, in the Akline Chambers, Paternoster Row, London. "He must have lost money by the speculation, but con- tinued to the bitter end — namely the issue of Handy Andy, at the year's end. in a stout octavo volume, with twenty-four engravings. LIFE SKETCH OP SAMUEL LOVER. 115 "The hero, from whom the book took its title, first appears as one of tlie very lowest of low Irishmen, un- educated, unmannered, and unable to act or speak with- out blundering. His first step in life is as a helper in the stables of an out-of-elbows Irish squire. Desired to throw a jug of water out of the window, he obeys — throwing the vessel as well as the liquid. Silver forks on the dinner-table he wonders at, thinking that they were ' split spoons.' Asked for a bottle of soda-water, he thinks it is soap and water that is wanted, and cutting the cord, lets the cork fly at will, knocking off the wax- lights and deluging satin gowns with the brislcly aerated liquid. So he goes on to the end of the story — perpetu- ally blundering. One of the best is, when he assists in waiting at a great dinner, and is put in charge of a basket of champagne. With a command to 'put it into the ice,' of which a tubful had been provided, Andy, literally obeying the order, uncorks the champagne, bottle by bottle, and empties the sparkling liquid into the tub of ice! This, it must be confessed, is an original way of icing champagne. "In point of fact Handy Anchj is nothing but a series of Irish sketches, strung on the slightest thread of a story. At the end Mr. Lover, not well knowing what to do with his hero, converts him into an Irish peer, with a considerable lauded estate— one evening, waiting at the dinner-table upon a certain Mr. Dawson, commonly called 'Dick the Devil,' and getting scolded by that worthy and his guests for his stupidity in icing their champagne, and hailed next morning hy the said Dick and his aforesaid friends as Lord Scatterbrain. " The author brings this about by means of a secret marriage between a peer of the realm and a poor but handsome Irish girl, Andy, as Sam Weller would have 116 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER, said, 'being the consekens of that manoover.' Of course, the new nobleman is not a remarkably polished gentle- man, but a manly heart beats in his bosom, and he turns out well, marrying a cousin of his own, and winning the hearts of high and low by his good nature and good conduct. "Incredible as it may appear, Handy Andy, the man and his nickname, was not a mere creation and creature of the imagination. Years before Lover wrote anything about that curious and singular character I had heard a good deal about, him. My knowledge arose in this manner: *' One stormy day, travelling in the mail-coach from the county of Cork to that of Limerick, whither I was going to spend the Christmas at my uncle's, it was my misfortune to be upset, with the total wreck of the vehicle, within a mile of Kilmallock, then and now the mere ghost of former greatness, but a well-built city, with regular fortifications, as far back as the year 1340, when it received a charter of municipal incorporation from King Edward III. "As the snow was three feet deep, and no conveyance could be obtained, my only fellow-traveller determined that we should not encounter the fatigue of walking into Kilmallock, but spend the evening in the only tavern of the little village where our misfortune had occurred. " ' It is a plain place,' he said, ' but they can supply as good a rasher of bacon and eggs as ever was served up, and their beds are clean and comfortable to a degree, I have been here before this,' he added, 'after a day's hunting, and know the people and the place.' "It required little persuasion to induce me to act upon this advice, given as the result of my companion's per- sonal experience, and we made out that Christmas Eve in the little tavern. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 117 "My friend, then a man between fifty and sixty, was full of anecdote, and charmed me with his graphic descriptions of scenes in the Irish Parliament, in the last year of the last century, when the great question of a legislative union between Ireland and Englaud created many an angry debate. "I was a mere youth, who had only recently got 'into my teens,' but the national subject deeply interested me then, and has interested me ever since, during the half century which has passed away since that talk by the turf fire on the night of our mail-coach misadventure. " In a short time my companion had arrived, by a few pertinent questions, at a knowledge of my name, and the object and destined end of my journey. He knew my relations in that part of the country, and I soon learned that he himself was Fitzgerald. " Ere we parted he told me that, in the ancient chiv- alry of Ireland, there were four hereditary knights, all of them Fitzgeralds, and each of them having living repre- sentatives. These were the White Knight, the Red Knight, the Knight of Kerry, and the Knight of Glin. My friend rej)resented the last of these, deriving his title from the Castle of Glin, which stands in the centre of a fine estate, near the river Shannon, and has been owned by one branch of the Fitzgerald family for six hundred years, " That evening, as we sat by a bright turf fire in the humble hostelrie which had received us, the Knight of Glin told me a great deal about ' Handy Andy.' This was fully thirteen years before Mr. Lover had introduced that worthy to the readers of Bcntley's Miscellany. " ' His name,' the knight said, ' is Andrew Sullivan, but he had such a propensity for doing and saying things in a way they ought not to be done or said, that from 118 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. an early age everybody spoke of him, and spoke to him, as Handy Andy — he being the unhandiest fellow in the world. His misfortune was that he took everything that was said to him in a natural sense. One morning, when I was shaving with cold water, Andy good-naturedly brought me up a small jug of boiling water. 'Where am I to empty this"?' he asked, pointing to the mug of cold water which I had been using. I told him to throw it out of the window (of course, meaning the water only); but matter-of-fact Andy raised the "window, and threw not only the water, but the china mug which held it, in the yard below, and then looked cheerfully at me, as if he deserved praise for having obeyed my instructions to the letter. " ' On another occasion, when I was high sheriff of the county, I had to give a large dinner at Glin Castle to the judges of assize, the grand-jury, and the members of the bar. Of course several baskets of champagne, for consumption on that occasion, were obtained from Limer- ick. There was occasion for an increased number of ser- vants to wait at table, and Andy was put into a suit of livery. Unfortunately, my caterer was an Englishman from Limerick, who, seeing Andy doing nothing, called out, 'You Hoirish feller there! just put this champagne into that 'ere tub of hice, and look sharp that nobody taKes some of it!' Andy, closely obeying instructions, did put the wine into the ice, by uncorking bottle after bottle of it, to the extent of two dozen; and when cham- pagne was called for at dinner, dragged in the tub, and stated how he really had ' put the wine into the ice,' as he had been ordered. Foi'tunately there was more of the generous fluid, so no very great harm was done. It was not possible, no matter how angry one might be, to avoid lauo;hing at the numerous and furious blunders of LIFE SKETCH Of SAMDEL LOVER. 119 ' Handy Andy.' He has grown gray in my service, and though I dismiss him every three months or so, on some new aggravation, he sHps back again, and it is impossible to continue angry with him.' " Many other illustrations of this original's character were told me by the knight, but my limited space does not permit me to mention them." This interesting account of Dr. Shelton Mackenzie's is quite correct; and Lover used often to tell how he had heard of Andy when in the neighboui'hood of Glin Castle, Avhere everyone had some anecdote of his handij blundering to relate. We now give an extract from the work itself: — ICING THE CHAMPAGNE. (from "handy andy."^) Dick gave Andy the necessary directions for icing the cham- pagne, which he set apart and pointed out most particularly to our hero, lest he should make a mistake and perchance ice the port instead. After Edward and Dick had gone, Andy commenced opera- tions according to orders. He brought a large tub upstairs containing rough ice, which excited Andy's wonder, for he never had known till now that ice was preserved for and ap- plied to such an use, for an ice-house did not happen to be attached to any establishment in which he had served. " Well, this is the quarest thing I ever heerd of," said Andy. "Musha! what outlandish inventions the quolity has among them! They're not contint with wine, but they must have ice along with it — and in a tub, too! — just like pigs! — throth it's a dirty thrick, I think. Well, here goes!" said he; and Andy opened a bottle of champagne, and poured it into the tub with the ice. " How it fizzes!" said Andy, "Faix, it's almost as lively as the soda-wather that bothered me long ago. > By permission of Messrs. George Routledfce & Sons. 120 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. Well, I know more about tilings now; sure, it's wondherful how a man improves with practice!" — and another bottle of champagne was emptied into the tub as he spoke. Thus, with several other complacent comments upon his own proficiency, Andy poured half-a-dozen of champagne into the tub of ice, and remarked, when he had finished his work, that he thought it would be "mighty cowld on their stomachs." Dinner was announced by Andy, and with good appetite soup and fish were soon despatched; sherry followed as a mat- ter of necessity. The second course appeared, and was not long under discussion when Dick called for the " champagne." Andy began to drag the tub towards the table, and Dick, impatient of delay, again called " chamjjagne." " I'm bringin' it to you, sir," said Andy, tugging at the tub. " Hand it round the table," said Dick. Andy tried to lift the tub, " to hand it round the table ; " but, finding he could not manage it, he whisjiered to Dick, " I can't get it ujd, sir." Dick, fancying Andy meant he had got a flask not in a sufiicient state of eff'ervescence to exjjel its own cork, whispered in return, " Draw it, then." " I was dhrawin' it to you, sir, when you stopped me." " "Well, make haste with it," said Dick. " Mister Dawson, I'll trouble you for a small slice of the turkey," said the colonel. " "With pleasure, colonel ; but first do me the honour to take champagne. Andy — champagne!" " Here it is, sir ! " said Andy, who had drawn the tub close to Dick's chair. ""Whei-e's the wine, sir?" said Dick, looking first at the tub and then at Andy. " There, sir," said Andy, pointing down to the ice. " I put the wine into it, as you towld me." Dick looked again at the tub, and said, " There is not a single bottle there — what do you mean, you stupid rascal?" " To be sure, there's no bottle there, sir. The bottles is all on the sideboord, but every dhrop o' the wine is in the ice, as LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 121 you towld me, sir ; if you put your liaud down into it, you'll feel it, sir." The conversation between master and man growing louder as it proceeded attracted the attention of the whole company, and those near the head of the table became acquainted as soon as Dick with the mistake Andy had made, and could not resist laughter ; and as the cause of their merriment was told from man to man, and passed round the board, a roar of laughter uprose, not a little increased by Dick's look of vexa- tion, which at length was forced to yield to the infectious merriment around him, and he laughed with the rest, and making a joke of the disappointment, which is the very best way of passing one off, he said that he had the honour of originating at his table a magnificent scale of hosjaitality ; for though he had heard of company being entertained with a whole hogshead of claret, he was not aware of champagne being ever served in a tub before. The company were too determined to be merry to have their pleasantry put out of tune by so trifling a mishap, and it was generally voted that the joke was worth twice as much as the wine. Nevertheless, Dick could not help casting a reproachful look now and then at Andy, who had to run the guantlet of manj^ a joke cut at his expense, while he waited ujDon the wags at dinner, and caught a lowly muttered anathema whenever he passed near Dick's chair. In shoi-t, master and man were both glad when the cloth was drawn, and the party could be left to them- selves. In 1844 appeared his romance of Treasure Trove; or, He would be a Gentleman, a tale of the Irish Brigade, the scenes of which, though clever and spirited, are mostly laid on the continent. Less national in its traits, it does not rank so high as either of his other two novels. It con- tains several capital songs, and among them " My Native Town," alluded to in the preceding chapter. Like Handy Andy, it was issued in monthly parts, and illustrated by his own characteristic etchings. 122 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. This yecar his eyesight began to fail. It had been severely taxed and overstrained by etching labours in addition to literary work and miniature painting, the latter being the chief source from which he derived his income. He was compelled, for a time, altogether to abandon the easel and betake himself more exclusively to literature. This hitch was a very serious matter for him, just then, in regard to ways and means; and, ever fertile and active in resources, in order to live, he now got up a literary and musical entertainment called " Irish Evenings." Lover had several good precedents for this step; Dibdin, Stevens, and others, had personally come before the public; and even Moore, when at the height of his fame, similarly contemplated giving lectures on poetry and music with illustrations at the pianoforte, which in- tention, however he did not carry out. Lover's entertainment consisted of an olio of his most popular songs and stories, in order to sustain which, as his own voice was not equa,l to the whole work, he was assisted by two young ladies, chiefly reserving the recita- tions for himself. His first appearance, in this capacity, was at the concert-room of the Princess Theatre, in March, 1844, when the audience was enchanted and more than delighted with " Eory O'More," " The Angel's AVhisper," "Barny O'Eeirdon," and "The Gridiron." This performance achieved a complete success and was con- tinued on to the close of the London season. He then made a tour of the j^rovinces which occupied two years and was financially profitable. His reception by the public was everywhere good, but particularly enthusiastic and cordial in Dublin, his " native town" which he had left nine years before. This gratified him greatly; for, with warm feelings and quick LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER, 123 sympathies, his was a generous, unselfish, sincere nature, that could not be sjjoiled. by applause. Here, in order to afford an " Irish entertainment " for the fireside, we append a few specimens of his humorous prose — BULLS AND BLUNDERS. Two Irishmen, fancying that they knew each other, crossed the street to shake hands. On discovering their error — "I beg your pardon," cried the one. "Oh, don't mention it," said the other. "It's a mutual mistake; you see, I thought it was you, and you thought it was me, and after all, it was neither of us." A good pendant to this is told of two friends who met and referred to the illness of a third. " Poor Michael Hogau ! Taith, I'm afraid he's going to die." "And why would he die?" " Oh, he's got so thin. You're thin enough, and I'm thin — but, by my sowl, Michael Hogan is thinner than both of us put together." A bull is sometimes produced by the false use of a word, as in the case of an Irish watchman giving evidence at a police office. " What is the man's offence 1 " "He was disorderly, your worship, in the strates, last night." " And did you give him warning before you took him into custody." " I did, your worship. I said to him — disparse !" Again, a bull may be occasioned by a confusion of identities ^as when it was said of an ugly man that he was handsome when an infant, but he was unluckily changed at nurse ; or as it was shown in the fervour of a girl, who desiring her lover's miniature, and he fearing it might lead to a discovery — " Oh, it needn't," she exclaimed ; " I'll tell the painter not to make it like you." 9 124 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. And, again, a bull may be owing to a limited amount of knowledge — as in the case of an old woman going to the chand- ler's for a farthing candle, and being told it was raised to a halfpenny on account of the Russian war — " Bad luck to them !" she exclaimed, "and do they fight by candle-light?" Apart, however, from all of these, the ordinary sayings of the Irish have an imaginative quality which is just as charac- tex'istic, and not at all confusing. As, for instance, when they say of a man who is irretrievably ruined — " Saltpetre wouldn't save him, and that is a strong pickle;" or when they would advise another to avoid ai-rest — " Be off, whilst your shoes are good;" or, as they delicately say of an elderly lady whose number of years they forbear to mention — " A kitten of her age wouldn't play with a cork." And again: — In the Bog of Aughrim, in the last century, plenty of gun-barrels used to be found as a memento of its great battle, and there was a blacksmith who dug them up in order to make use of their material. On one occasion one of them exploded in his furnace, when he exclaimed, " Bad luck to your love of muilher ! isn't the battle of Aughrim out of you yet?" ST. PATEICK AND THE SAEPENT. A guide's story. On a lovely day in summer, when the delightful Lakes of Killarney were putting forth all their attractions, a party of visitors had been enjoying them, now in sailing over their tranquil waters, now in gazing at their silvery waterfalls, now in listening to their pleasing echoes, when they were struck with the perturbed appearance of a well-known little lake, which presented such a contrast to the general calmness of the group. "Oh, sure!" exclaimed the guide, "the wather's always disturbed in that way; biling over like a kettle amost." "And what's the reason?" they inquired. "'Faith, then, ladies and gentlemen, there's rayson enough and to spare : it's all owing to the sarpent ! " " The serpent! " they exclaimed. "The sai-pent that St. Patrick rowled into the LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 125 lake centuries ago, and beyant that, and that has been tryin' ever since to twist himself back to land again." The whole party were of course in ignorance of any such bewildering event. " Oh, it's the thruth that I am telling ye : the sar- pent's in a box, you see, and he's tryin' to get out of it, and it's his flappin' of the lid which kapes the wather in such a flutther." Excitement was at its height, and their cicerone was requested to oblige them with the particulars, " Well, then, you all know, ladies and gentlemen, that it was St. Patrick that druv the sarpents and venomous bastes out of Ireland — and made it what it is — the swatest jewel of the world to live in. Well, there was one sarpent, I must tell you, that was too strong to be druv out, and beyant that, you must know, was a most unraisonable baste besides — for he wouldn't listen to the hape of argyments St. Patrick was dis- coorsing to him when he towld him to get out o' that and be off to Botany Bay. ' Oh, bathershin ! ' says the sarpent, ' is it an absentee you want to make of me 1 I love the country too well to lave it — it's my native mud, and I'll have no other.' " ' Oh, veiy well, then,' says the saint ; ' if them's the path- riotic sentiments that inspires your venomous breast, I must make a nice house for y©u to live in.' And so the saint set to work, you see, and made a big iron chist, with as many locks and bars on it as they say they've got at Newgate, and then went to the cave where the sarpent lived in retirement, and began to whistle for him, and coax him out just to look at the house he had made for him. But the sarpent, you see, was cunning, like the first one of his breed — he'd got a notion that St. Patrick wouldn't be the asiest of landlords — so says he, ' I thank your riverence mightily for all the thruble you have been takin', but I'd rather stop where I am.' 'Oh, just come out now, and see the house — that won't hurt you,' says St. Patrick, ' and if you don't like it you can lave it.' " Well, to make a long story short, the baste did come out at last; but he didn't like the look of the box at all, and began to find all sorts of faults with it. ' It's too small for me,' says he; 'axing your riverence's pardon, that's a house that 126 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. wouldn't howkl me.' ' I'll lay a gallon of cortlier,' says St. Patrick, 'the house is big enough for two of ye.' Now, the sarjient was a dry baste — he wasn't a rcater-snake at all, — and he was uncommon fond of porther, and he thought — the cun- ning villain — that he'd play the saint a trick, and chate him clane out of the liquor. So in he rowls himself into the box, and, just to show it wouldn't howld him, he swells himself out for all the world like an alderman who was swallerin' his third bottle at a Dublin dinner, and be token of that what does he do but, moreover, lave half of his long tail hanging out. " ' Look thei'e now,' says the sarpent, — ' you see I can't get in. You've lost the bet, your riverence.' But what does the saint io but suddenly clap down the lid of the box on him, when he whips in his tail for fear 'twould be cut off, and so got packed into the chist as tight as a hundredweight of but- ter. ' There now,' says St. Patrick, ' I've won the bet, you see.' ' Then let me out,' says the sarpent, ' and I'll pay you like a gentleman.' ' Oh, I'm in no hurry,' says St. Patrick. ' You shall pay me when I ax you for it, and that won't be for a day or two ;' and so he rowls the box down the hill, and then pitches it into the lake, where it has been lying iver since ; and the villain, day and niglft, has been trying to get it open, — but as the lid, you see, is too heavy for him, he kapes it flappin' withovit ceasin', and that's the rayson that the wather is always in such a flutther." IT'S MIGHTY IMPEOVIN'. Tlie Irish peasantry have tales of a parabolic character — stories which by means of some striking action or circum- stance set forth a hearty moral. On hearing such, their usual phrase is, " Oh, it is mighty improvin'." And that too is what Molly Malone, a worthy washerwoman used to say — and say almost invariably — after hearing a sermon on Sunday. One day, however, her clergyman, who was not quite content with this generality, spoke to her respecting his discourse, and MoDy suddenly became what they call in Ireland a little LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 127 bothered. Nevertheless, she got out of her difficulty with one of those parabolic answers which are such favourites with her class, and which, whilst it comi)letely evaded the question, satisfactorily replied to it. Rev. Well, Molly, you liked the sermon, you say? MoL Oh yes, your riverence — it was mighty improvin'. Rev. And what part of it did you like best ] Mol. "Well, sure, sir, I liked every part. Rev. But I suppose there were some portions of it that you were more struck with than you were with others] Mol. In throth plase your riverence, I don't remember any part exactly, but altogether 'twas mighty improvin'. Rev. Now, Molly, how could it be imjiroviug if you don't remember any part of it 1 Mol. Well, your riverence sees that linen I've been washing and dhrying on the hedge there? Rev. Oh, certainly. Mol. Wasn't it the soap and wather made the linen clane, sir? Rev. Of course thej' did. Mol. And isn't the linen all the better for it? Rev. Oh, no doubt of that, Molly. Mol. But not a dhrop of the soap and wather stays in it. Well, sir, it's the same thing wid me. Not a word o' the sarmint stays in nie — I suppose it all dhries out o' me — but I'm the better and the claner for it, when it's over, for all that. THE IRISH POST-BOY. In the Irish post-boy we are not presented with the white- jacketed, silk-hatted, top-booted, and bright-spurred gentle- man we are accustomed to in England, as trim as his own horses, and as silent, till he touches his hat to get his fee for driving them. The Irish post-boy, on the contrary, is as scanty in his attire as he is abundant in his intelligence, hav- ing always something to tell his passenger of the localities they pass through, as though he took him for a book-maker 128 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. who -was taking notes upon the way. He fulfils a double func- tion — he is guide as well as driver, and his humour often lies as much in what he does as in what he says. He will com- mence something in this fashion : — "Do you see that house, yer honour, yonder? I suppose you know that's JVlr. d'Arcy's." " Yes, I do. Mr. d'Arcy is very rich, I believe!" " Well, sir, maybe he is and maybe he isn't." " Why, I thought he was a man of fortune." " Well, you see, he was purty well off, sir, till he got howld of the property." " Till he got it ! What do you mean?" "Why, sir, when he was heir to the property he had great expecta- tions, and so on the strength of that, you see, he got whatever money he wanted." "Well, and so he ought, when he was heir to ^5000 a year." " That's true, yer honour, that's true, sir ! But then, you'll understand, he was heir to £5000 a year that was spint." " Oh, I see !" " So when he got the property, of coorse the gintleman was ruined." " Hillo ! take care — you were nearly in the ditch there." "Never fear, sir; it's that blackguard mare that is always shyin' ! Hurrup!" "How close her ears are cut." " Yis, they are, sii' — oh, they're close enough ; but nothing will cure the villain." " Cure her ! How do you mean ? " " Why, sir, I persaved that whenever she started she always cocked her ears up, so I cut them off, you see, to make her lave off the trick of startin'; but, bad luck to the vagabone ! she's just as bad as ever." In a particularly dangerous part of the road, with a preci- pice on the one side of you, you observe the post-boy keeps casting an inquiring glance towards his vehicle. " What's the matter?" you inquire ; " rather an awkward bit of road here." " Oh, it's nothin', sir ; it's a grand prospect." " Yes — of going over. Why, it is some hundred feet to the bottom." " Well, it may be^but look at the prospect, sir; them mountains — oh, they're grand, sir; they beat the world for dignity. You'd never see their likes again, if you was to go over twenty precipusses." After many other tales and difficulties you reach your journey's end, and then the post-boy, as you have surmised. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 129 expects a good gratuity. You give him what you consider to be a haudsome reward of his services, but still he is uot contented. " Sure, your honour," he exclaims, " wouldn't mind another shilliu'?" " No/' you rejily, " I think I've paid you liberally." " But you'll consider the way I drove you, sir?" " Not a pleasant one, by any means." "And the power of stories I told you?" " Some of which I have heard before." "Well, then, give me another shillin', sir, and I'll tell you somethin' which I will undertake to say you never heard before." " Very good ; then, there's a shilling. Now, what's the story I have never heard 1 " "Well, then, of coorse your honom' remembers the three miles we came along with the clitf upon one side of us?" " Remember it ? — I shall never forget it !" "Well, then, you don't know, sir, that I drove you them three miles without a linch-pin!" CHAPTER VIII. 1846-1848: American Visit. Purpose — Sets Sail — Introductions — Climate and Sketching — New York- Boston— American Humour— Indian Summer— Death of his Wife— Wash- ington— Sleighing— The South— Savannah— Stage Coach— New Orleans- Mississippi and Ohio— Niagara— Islands— Rapids— War Ship of Peace- Final Excursion to the Lakes— Monument an Inducement to Settle in America— The Backwoodsman— Laurel Hill. From the success which attended his "Irish Evenings," and from the fact that his songs, stories, and dramas had long been favourites in the West, where in the prin- cipal cities there was a large Irish population to welcome him, Lover now determined to visit the New World. 130 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. There he intended to make sketches of the grand lake and river scenery of tlie West, and to collect materiel for a book on American society, as Avell as give his enter- tainments. Some time before, having become security for a relative, he, unfortunately, was called on to pay a large sum of money. This nearly emptied his pockets, and, therefore, an extra effort became now absolutely necessary, in order to retrieve his position. His wife, who had long been an invalid, acquiesced in the propriety of this expedition for the good of the family; and after a tender leave-taking of her and his girls, in the autumn of 1846 he left London and sailed from Liver- pool, reaching New York, by way of Boston, on the 6th of Sej)tember. ' His letters of introduction brought him into contact with Bryant, Washington Irving, N. P. Willis, and other notabilities; and on the 28th, his first public appearance before an American audience, he was most enthusiastically received by a large and fashionable assembly. The difference of climate, especially its greater dryness and clearness, struck him. When he began to sketch, all his preconceived ideas of distance were consequently at fault, and had to be re-adjusted, in accordance ^vith atmo- spheric conditions which were entirely new to him. He also remarked " the wide-spreading vastness of the country." "All the sketches I make," said he, "are long — there is no such thing as an upright view here." He found, however, the kind of views which he desiderated, when he reached the Highlands of the Hudson, with its mountains, striking rock scenery, and rich wooding. Lover, in his diary, on the spot, jotted down his first impressions of places in their freshness, and with the artistic eye of a keen observer. New York, Avith the Boulevard air of its side streets LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUbL LOVER. 131 with their rows of trees, its Venetian blinds, and its " Broadway" pavements with their posts and awnings, pre- sented to him a French aspect in all save its buildings. Boston, on the other hand, struck him as decidedly English; parts of the city recalling Edinburgh and Lon- don, "whilst the green Venetian blinds and the spacious balconies, overflowing with their odorous trailing plants, had a picturesqueness which savoured more of the Quar- tier Leo2)old of Brussels." The faces of the people, too, were Saxon. In the neighbouring town of Cambridge — the seat of Harvard University — he made the acquaintance of Everett, Emerson, and Longfellow. He made various excursions to places of note in the vicinity, such as to Plymouth Rock, — the landing-place of the Pilgrim Fathers. At Boston he gave several performances, which were listened to most attentively, but in solemn silence. In other parts of New England, the reserved frigid mood of his audiences was even more marked; and Lover, not at all prepared for this outward aspect of seeming indifference, was considerably put out, and felt, as he said, " like an Arctic voyager who had drifted among icebergs." Pro- bably however, in reality, he was as much appreciated there, as afterwards in the warmer and more demonstra- tive South. Lover could not fail to enjoy the quaint absurdity of American humour, and has preserved a few of its racy exaggerations. Every one must remember the pleasant extravagance of a man who was so swift, that in running round a tree he caught a sight of his own back; of another who was so vigorous that he never sneezed but he threw a somersault; and of a third, who was so thin that it took two pair of eyes to see him. During the Mexican 132 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL, LOVER. war, when it was a question whether the Americans could send their cavahy into Texas owing to the deficiency of grass, it Avas suggested that the horses should be sup- ported by the force of imagination, — should be provided with green spectacles, and fed upon fine shavings! Of Kentuckian humour he says, "\Miat force also in the description of a first-rate fighting nature, ' Clean meat-axe disposition;' or of an orator with iiuency, 'great water- power of talk,' But a Kentuckian's happiest phraseology was in honour of himself. Every one has heard of the old announcement, 'I'm half horse, half alligator, mth the least taste of a panther in me, and a small sprinkling of the snapping tiu'tle.' As also his bewildering boast that, ' he coidd whip liis weight in wild cats, and eat his leugth in sassages!' But in a summary of his achieve- ments, which may not be so well known, there was great originality in the concluding feat he mentions — 'I can jump higher, dive deeper, stay longer imder, and come out drier than any man about the Alleglianies.' " Of "The Indian Summer," Lover wrote, "The brief period which succeeds the autumnal close, called 'The Indian Summer,' — a reflex, as it were, of the early portion of the year — strikes a stranger in America as peculiarly beautiful, and c^uite charmed me." This sentence is a note jH-efixed to a subsequent poem, of that name, the last verse of which we quote. " Aud thus, dear love, if early years Have drowu'd the germ of joy iu tears, A later gleam of hojje appears — Just like the Indian summer : And ere the snows of age descend, Oh trust me, dear one, changeless friend, Our falling years may brightly end — Just like the Indian summer." LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 133 At New York, when about to depart for the south in order to escape the rigour of the approaching winter, the sad tidiugs reached him of the death of his wife. His private journals reveal the depth of his grief and desola- tion. He was stunned, and for a time incapable of ex- ertion; but, roused by a sense of duty to the dear ones left, he manfully controlled his feelings, and set out for the south. He first visited Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washing- ton. At the capital his reception was highly flattering; he says, in a letter to his daughter, that "the room," where he gave his entertainments, " was so full of senators it looked like an adjourned meeting of the chambers." The intense cold of winter had already set in before he left the north, and he gives us pleasant descriptions of skating and sleighing on the Hudson, and has left us a humorous poem, drawn from a New England sleigh- ride, which he quaintly designates " Slaying the Deer," not, however, in the Indian hunting fashion, but in a way nearer and dearer to Americans. We quote a few lines of this happy effusion. " If your Dear's temper's crost, Pray at once for the frost, And fix her right into a sleigh. " If she would, she can't scold, For the weather's so cold, Her mouth she can't open at all ; In vain would she cry, For the tears in her eye Would be frozen before they could fall ; Then hurra for the snow ! As we merrily go. The bells my fleet horses can cheer, While the belle by my side 134 LII-'E SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVEK. Is luy joy and my pride, Oh— there's nothing like sleighing The Dear!" Lover then proceeded south — to Richmond, Carolina, and Savannah. There he came into contact with the planters, whose courtly, dignified, and outwardly refined manners, spoke of their cavalier descent; although these pleasing traits often coexisted with the most heartless cruelty, absolute and brutal despotism, laziness and vice — for the blighting curse and degradation of the slave system fearfully reacts on the masters themselves. He soon abandoned the idea of -wTiting a book, when he found that the truth told would be sickening to him- self and little palatable to others. He pitied the sad position and fate of beautiful and highly educated Creole girls; but powerless to mend matters, he turned away from horrors which have, since then, been righteously avenged. On the other hand, his keen sense of the ludicrous and his irrepressible humour, in regard to the general darkness of everything around him, thus find vent in a letter to his daughter: — "On board the steamboat I was roused to breakfast by the civilities of a black steward, and after- wards attended to by a little bevy of black sprites; whilst the black tea and the black fish (a species peculiar to that quarter), the black trays, the black jugs, and the black- handled knives were all of a marked consistency — and even the day that had just arisen seemed almost as sable as the rest." Of the shade, derived from the trees at Savannah, he says : "It had also the advantage of surrounding woods, which did all justice to the cUmate. At one of these, called Bonaventura, consisting chiefly of live-oak, the branches were interlaced in the fashion of the aisles of a cathedral, from which depended festoons of moss that LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 135 looked like the accumulated cobwebs of centuries, that had never been swept away. The variety of parasites that clung to them, under the general name of 'vines,' was also a striking feature; one — the jasmine vine— especially, bearing a profusion of yellow flowers, and giving out an exquisite odour that recalled the English wall-flower. The palmetto was also abundant, with its green and fan- like gracefulness; the wild orange; and the magnolia, the flowering giant of the southern forest, adding gran- deur to the general beauty." He now left the seaboard, and struck west through the pine-woods, travelling by a primitive mode of conveyance. In a letter to his daughter. Lover sketches to the life " the old American stage-coach, with a ton of luggage at its tail" dragged by four horses at full gallop over a bad road, with its " bump and thump, smash and crash, rum- ble and tumble," producing in passengers "a sense of wholesale dislocation" from having been treated "like peas shaken in a bag." Sailing on the Alabama, reaching Mobile, and crossing the lake, Lover, at New Orleans, had, in contrast to his New England experiences, now to complain that his recep- tion was too cordial. He was not only enthusiastically encored in public, but had to sing all his songs over again in private circles after concluding his public enter- tainment. Here Lover resumed his sketching, and made drawings of the cathedral, the old town with its picturesque and quaint detail, the plantations, and the shipping. New Orleans, "a city built upon a raft," and having its gigantic quay crowded with ships, was said to be "about the grandest consarn afloat." To Lover it presented an aspect lx)th French and Spanish. Here, too, as usual, he wrote songs, which ho despatched 136 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. to his London publisher, one of them being that on "The Akbama River." Writing on board one of those large river steamers which he had often sketched, he happily compaxed the saloon, when lighted up, to "Lowther Arcade afloat." He sailed on the Mississippi — " a big sea that has been straightened out " — running, in union "svith the Missouri, a course of more than four thousand miles through inter- minaljle woods, with often hundreds of miles together then showing scarce any trace of life save here and there a wood station, or, rarer still, a clearing, which Lover says " looks like a snip cut out of the mantle of primeval vegetation by the shears of human energy." After visiting St. Louis, Lover embarked on the Ohio, and was struck with " its calm and silvery flow, and its grassy margins softening into a grace that had more the effect of planted pleasure-grounds than that of a Avild forest." Eetiu-ning to New York, by way of Harrisburgh and Baltimore, he resolved to visit Canada and see Niagara, going north by the Hudson river. Of Niagara — the thunder of waters — ^hourly precipi tating its hundred million liquid tons over the rock-ledge, Lover Avrites to his daughters : — " Glorious Niagara ! never can I forget the sensations with wliich my eye first caught the rapids rushing down to the falls; the mighty mass of waters heaving, and foaming, and bounding onwards ; and then when I first saw their headlong dash down the abyss, I lost aU powers of speech ; for, when I attempted words to tell wliat I felt, my tongue refused its ofiice, my voice trembled, and I could scarcely refrain from tears. I threw off my hat in the spirit of reverential awe, and held out my hands towards the mighty giant, with his flowino- robe, as if of molten emeralds, with a friuge of pearls and LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 137 diamonds, for to nothing else in colour or brilliancy may be likened the vivid green of the waters, the flashing and white- ness of the spray. Then the mighty cloud that arises, steam- ing up from the vast cauldron below, a messenger, as it were, seeking heaven, whose Master had bidden the waters to fall there to tell ' His will was done.' The god-like sun imaging his light in the spray, and adding prismatic beauty to that already so beautiful ! Down, down eternally fall those long festoons of snow-white waters, and the voice of God in the never-ceasing thunder of the cataract. " How the flood below heaves, and eddies, and rushes on through the giant gap of the stupendous cliff's, clothed with the nodding verdure of the green summer ; while the leaves are sprinkled with the diamond-shower of the spray, as it whirls around in the never-dying breeze of this enchanting spot — another blessing in the fervour of an American July. Oh, Niagara! Niagara! how endless are thy beauties, how vast thy sublimity. Never have I seen grandeur and beauty so combined as in thee !" And he wishes, too, that his children had "been with him to share his feehngs, and tells them that, in the deep sense of the power of the Almighty Creator which was produced in his mind by the scene, he prayed for them devoutly. He made sketches of the Horse-shoe and American Falls, which on a subsequent visit he finished; and one of them, he, long afterwards, painted in oil-colours. He also wrote a poem called the " Nymph of Niagara," beginning : — " Nymph of Niagara! Sprite of the mist! With a wild magic, my brow thou hast kiss'd ; I am thy slave, and my mistress art thou. For thy wild kiss of magic is yet on my brow." Of the islands of the St. Lawrence, which look like " a 138 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. mass of emeralds set in rims of sparkling silver," Lover thus wrote to his daughters: "They are quite lovely in the grouping of their rocks, and foliage, and varied form, and Avould seem the work and haunt of fairies; whilst the mighty rapids that lie beyond them, tumul- tuous as a sea, raging, boiling, and threatening destruc- tion to the boat that dares attempt them, one would think the work of Titans." He descended the rapids on his way to Montreal and Quebec, making clever sketches of the latter picturesque city, and also of the Falls of Montmorenci and the Chaudiere. After a short stay in Canada, Lover returned to New York by Lake Champlain and Lake George. The autumn was now setting in, and he occupied it by another visit to New England, where his audiences ex- hibited a little more warmth, or, rather, less apparent coldness than before. He again returned to New York, for the winter, giving occasional entertainments and working at his songs and sketches. Greatly touched by the practical and generous sympathy of the Americans for famine-stricken Ireland, which evinced itself dming the previous svimmer (1847) by their dismantling and freighting a frigate with pro- visions and sending it over to the sufferers, Lover warmly and publicly acknowledged it, on many occasions, and also wrote a song which he called " The War-ship of Peace." In it, addressing Ireland as the sweet land of song, although her harp then hung on the willows, he says of the American frigate, — " Her thunder sleeps — 'tis Mercy's breath That wafts her o'er the sea ; She goes not forth to deal out death, But bears new life to tbee !" LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 139 It was now the spring of 1848, and Lover was in the second year of his American visit. He had travelled extensively, seen the features of nearly the whole country, and his gains were satisfactory. So now, for a wind-up, he paid final visits to Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Wash- ington, and made an excursion to the lakes in order to fill his portfolio with sketches, but in this he was disap- pointed, and only obtained a few. However, he again reached Niagara, remained for a fortnight finishing the sketches he had previously made, and after, in a leisurely way, seeing what was to be seen, he hurried off to New York just in time to catch the steamer for home. He had seen American scenery and society, made many friends, received much kindness, and although his inten- tion of writing a book was abandoned, he had accom- plished the main object of his visit. He tells us, of one original compliment he received from a New England fellow-traveller, who, in urging him to make the New World his home, among the other in- ducements held out, said to him, " Sir, you are admired and respected in this country, and you may rely on it, if you die here, we should give you a beautiful monument," The following are two of his characteristic American prose sketches: — THE BACKWOODSMAN. The old backwoodsman of America was the pioneer of her civilization, though little did he know it. The ship is not more unconscious of the track she leaves behind her, than the backwoodsman was of the consequences which were to arise from his great daring. He became an explorer from a cour- ageous temperament, and a love of freedom and adventure. The tame, roundabout couree of civilized (or demi-civilized) life revolted him, and it was not to facilitate its growth, but to escape from its restraint, that he went on in advance — that 10 140 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. he took to the woods where he could be free, could be self- reliant, and could be alone. Some fine morning he left the " settlement " with his broad- axe slung behind him, his knapsack containing some raiment and a small stock of provisions, his hunting knife in his belt, and a store of powder and lead in his pockets, — carrying his rifle with a courageous confidence that in that he had the means of sustaining life or defending it. Armed with that, flying game or advancing foe were pretty much the same to him — he was ready for them both. For miles and miles he left behind him the last verge of civilization ; he plunged into the tangled forest— the " wilder- ness" as lie well called it — and it was many a long day before he could hit on a place to rear a hut in. Wood, as he wants it, falls before his axe,— food is within easy reach of his rifle. In what a romantic position he is placed ! The solitude of the primeval forest falls around him like a curtain — he is alone with Nature, face to face, till all her lineaments and signs and tokens are as familiar to him as a book. He reads her better than he could a book. He loves that noble mistress that gives him everything he wants, and asks for nothing in return ; he can do what he likes, and she reproves not. What does he care for society? he is well rid of it. Ha ! what sound is that of something crashing through the under-bush ? 'Tis a bear ! Does he retreat or wish for help? Oh no ; he feels he is more than a match for the huge brute, at which he levels. What mark is that iu the grass he scrutinizes so carefully ? It is the trail of an Indian foe. Does he tremble? Out on the thought ! it only warms his blood with greater eagerness. He watches, too, and creeps and dodges through brake, and brier, and oaks vine-tangled, and the Eed-man falls a victim to the sure shot of the Pale-face. The native savage fears him at last, and he will beat the redskins with odds against him. What courage and adventure were compassed in all this ! In the olden days of romance there was much of lofty daring, doubtless, — but then the knight tilted in the presence of fair dames and royal dignities, and from the battle in which he wore his lady's glove upon his crest, he knew that smiles and LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. Ml triumph, the praise of courts and the songs of minstrels, awaited his return ; but in the case of the backwoodsman, where was his reward for all his daring? It lay simply in success, and the consciousness that his manly heart was proof against all fear. Before such hardy adventurers, savage life fell slowly back, and civilization crept surely after them. They were the pioneers of progress, — and if it is the destiny of barbarism to yield everywhere to skill and knowledge, we feel less pity at the doom that overtook the western red-men when we re- member that, of all the aborigines which history refers to, they showed themselves the most merciless, the most treach- erous and unimprovable. The woodman followed the backwoodsman, and became an equal benefactor. Whilst the one opened up the track to future and thriving settlements, the other cleared the space for them. They were like theory and practice, discovery and apjjlication. They were severally the forerunner and the founder of their country's greatness. To the woodman, also, it must be said, America owes a debt of gratitude. Who can behold what she is now and not look back with admiration on the hardihood of those who first redeemed her from the wilderness, — v/ho were the earliest to invade tlie forest, and win from the domain of solitude clear space for busy city and wide-spread teeming fields 1 Still, perhaps, it must be owned that it is only those who have seen a " clearing," — who have counted the stumps of primeval trees that are to be found in a single acre, that can do justice to the resolute energy of the men who laid it bare. One should know the time and toil required to fell a single tree in order to measure the courage it needed to face, and the indomitable will to conquer, the obstructions of a whole country. It makes us respect our kind the more to look back on all this achievement. We say with honourable pride, " They were our fellow-men who did this ; " and the thought braces up our energies to be doing something oui'selves, and whatever the cost or burden to us, doing what duty demands. In a dreary mood I have sometimes imagined the first 142 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. woodman at his work, with his clenched hand and earnest eye, measuring the poAver and number of the host he was going to attack, and some stately tree of the forest — the chieftain of the wood — as if sentient of his purpose, throwing out his g-narled arms as though to threaten or defy him. The attack is commenced — the heavy stroke of the axe goes ringing through the forest, and wild creatures come from their coverts to gaze on the invader. The eagle sails down from his eyry and sweeps so close to the woodman that the latter can hear the rush of his wings througli the silence which was once the eagle's own, but now is his no longer. The panther and wild cat gleam with fiery eyes upon him, the snake hisses his hatred or rattles his re- vengefulness ; but the hand that strikes is heedless of them all. The axe repeats its blows ; the wound grows wider and wider ; the assaulted monarch of the woods, whose leafy crown is that of centuries, soon bends submissive to his fate — and, headlong as he falls, wakes the solitude with the loud prophecy of the forest's doom, and man's dominion. America, in her flag, ought to have the axe emblazoned, for it was the first founder of her greatness. It would be a far fitter emblem of her historic glory than the eagle. The bird refers to her state of savageness, and if it also refers to her martial honour, it is to the triumph and dominion won by a savage cost of blood and treasure. But the axe denotes her industry — the greater honour of her labour, which won the dominion of the wood in order to erect her boundless empire. LAUEEL HILL. The cemetery so called in the vicinity of Philadelphia is, both in position and arrangement, one of the most beautiful in existence. Nobly situated on a rising ground which over- hangs the Schuylkill river, you catch glimpses of that stream through vistas of the superb trees which abound here, and heighten so much the picturesqueness of the spot. Sometimes a distant reach reflects the sj^arkling sunlight through the leafy avenues that surround the graves with their cool and LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 143 befitting shadows ; occasioually you look clown from the over- hanging terraces into which the river bank is cut, viewing the stream delightedly through a screen of luxurious foliage. You stand upon some salient point among the tops of trees that grow beneath you — the breeze murmurs through the branches with a sighing cadence over the dead — and, per- chance, some falling leaves lighting on the water, and swejst away by it, are looked ujiou at such a moment as no iuajipro- priate emblems of withering life and the tide of time. The tombs at Laurel Hill are generally well sculptured and in good taste, and the attention paid to the grounds in freeing them from noxious weeds, as well as in preserving their tui'f and pathways, heightens greatly their natural charm. This caring for the garden of the dead softens the feeling of awe, and even repulsion, which chills us on enteiing many a graveyard in England, where the stark and staring flagstones are half smothered in the clutches of a rank vegetation. Here, on the contrary, a sense of beauty is felt to be no unfitting companion of the sacredness which rests on the narrow recess of our last sleep. Roses and other flowers abound here, sooth- ing the senses with their graceful forms, their glowing colours, and their sweet perfume. They seem to fulfil a higher destiny than in the gardens of the living — the new and odorous life which they exhibit amidst decay suggests that after and better life wherein decay shall not be known. We can look on them, indeed, as the mute executors of affection, twining round the tomb with a faithful tenderness which almost seems to speak. Would you pluck a rose from such a grave? No, stranger, no; disturb not its sweet duty — break not the bond of its com- panionship. Only those who loved the one that sleeps beneath may gather a memorial, which becomes to them almost a communion of their spirits. Several of the inscrijjtions on the tombs were very singular and touching. One had merely this brief tenderness — " Love's last gift." Another had a simjilicity still greater and more afiecting — "A mother to her child," shutting up in the mother's heart the whole history and secret of, jjerhajis, her only joy on earth. A third had a kindred character, suggesting the long- 144 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. borne sadness of another untold story- — " Think of nie as a wanderer who has at last found a resting-place." Amo]i<; the visitors to these grounds I could not help being struck with a lovely girl who was walking alone here and drooping her gentle eyes on the resting-places of the departed. She was a perfect specimen of American beauty. With its prevailing slightness of form there was sufficient roundness to give it grace; her height was a little above the medium, whilst her erect carriage and even walk betokened her healthful and good 25roportiou. Her face was not unworthy of her bearing. The finely i^eucilled brow — the soft blue eye beaming under its long lashes with equal intelligence and kindness — the deli- cate outline of nose, gently dilating as she breathed, completed their attractions in a mouth which a jjainter or a sculptor would have acknowledged as a model. My admiration, however, I confess, was tempered with the thought of such beauty's evanescence. Nowhere, need I say, as in America, is female loveliness so transient. The blossom scarcely becomes a flower before it has reached the time to wither. Whether it is in the race or in the climate, the mode of living or want of exercise, the pitiless destiny of American beauty is a fact not to be disputed. I could not avoid apjjlying this reflection to the beautiful girl I saw before me, contrast- ing so gi'eatly, as she did at that moment, in all her life and grace and freshness, with the sad repose that spread about her. The monument of Commodore Hull is among those of the gi'eatest note here, and, considering his brave and estimable nature, it is no wonder that his countrymen cherish so gener- ally his memory. He commanded the Constitution frigate in that despierate action with the Giterrier — the first of the war of 1812, when England, almost for the first time, met with a foe who could defy her flag. I heard an interesting anecdote relating to that aflair. Commodore Hull and the commander of the Guerrier, Cajitain Dacres, were acquainted before the war, and their ships happening to lie together in the Delaware, the captains met at a party, and had some conversation in regard to the merits of their respective navies. Professional LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 145 pride ojDerating on both, led them from generalities to par- ticulars, and at last to speak of what would happen if, in event of war, their ships should come into collision. Hull was very lively and good-humoured — a fact of which the various portraits of him are sufRciently indicative, and he laughingly said to the English captain, " Take care of that ship of yours if ever I catch her in the Constitution." Captain Dacres laughed in return, and offered a handsome bet that, if ever they did meet as antagonists, his friend woidd find out his mistake. Hull refused a money wager, but ventured to stake on the issue — a hat. Years after this the conjectured encounter did occur; and when, after a desperate fight, in which the English frigate only struck when she had become a wreck upon the water. Captain Dacres came on board the Coiistitution and ofiered his sword to Hull, who was waiting to shake hands with him — " No, no," said HuU, " I will not take a sword from one who knows so well how to use it — but — I'll trouble you for that hat I" CHAPTER IX 1848-1851 : Return from America — New Entertainments — Stories — Death op his Daughter. Material of New Entertainments— Specimens— Story of The Skeered Dog— Tlie Trunk— Dublin Porters, Carmen, and Walters— The Irish Brigade — Paddy at Sea-- Letter to jSIrs. H.— Entertainments ended by the Death of his Daughter. On his return to England, renewed in vigour by liis travels and after a well-earned rest at home, Lover resumed his duties, early in the following year, with a fresh entertainment, embodying some of his fresh Ameri- can experiences, his transatlantic songs, and glimpses of Irish life in America — "a theme that was not only new, 146 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. but full of oddity and flavour" — in addition to his former strikingly characteristic Irish songs and stories. His entertainments were not dramatic exhibitions; for without picture, scenic aids, or change of costume. Lover relied alone upon anecdote, commentary, story, and song, for interesting and amusing his audiences. He was now able to do this without the assistance of others. Here we give a few more specimens of what he produced at his brilliant and ever-varying entertainments. THE AMEEICAN STOEY OF THE SKEEEED DOG. " Waal, I'll teU you a story of a dog. A friend of mine was uncommon fond of liuntin' and ginmiu', but, of all kinder sports, I guess he loved best to be huntin' wolves; he was regular death upon a wolf — he was. He'd give any money for a good wolf-dog ; and, though he had plenty of his own, he was always buyin' noo ones. Waal, he heerd of a fine dog, down away in Jacksonville — a critter that was reckoned to be one of the boldest dogs in the keounty, and off he sot to git him — and a pretty big heap o' dollars he had to give for him, I tell you. Waal, home he come with his dog, and it warn't long before he had a notion he should like to tiy him. So off he sot to the woods with him, and I guess he soon came on a wolf- when away went the varmint, and right away went tlie dog, and right away arter botli of 'em went my friend, mighty fast- but he soon lost sight of 'em, dog and varmint tew, and at last, as he turned the corner of a clearing, he come on a man felling timber, and, says he—' Friend,' says he, ' have you seen sich a thing as a wolf and a dog going along this way?' " ' Waal, I reckon I have,' says the man. "'They wur runnin' pretty fast, I reckon?' " ' They were doin' nawthin' else,' says t'other. " ' I know'd he was a fast doir ! ' " ' He's nawthin' else,' says the woodman ; "twas about the sharpest race atwixt 'em I see for a long while.' " ' A race !' says my friend. ' Waal, now, what do you mean by a race?' LIFE SKKTCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 147 " ' Why, I mean to say/ says he, ' they wur pretty close together for a time, but the dog was raal grit ; he warn't goin' to be beat, not lie — so he exerted himself at last, and I dare say by this time he's ahead of the wolf by half a mile.'" THE TRUNK. Luggage in America is knocked about in the most reckless manner possible, and from the way iu which it is scrambled for at the end of a journey, is often lost. On this subject I was once favoured with a specimen of Yankee humour, that, to say the least of it, was ingenious. " I was troubled myself once about losin' of a trunk," said a New England traveller, " but I guess that was a caution to me, and it has never happened ag'iu — I lost it iu the railway cars, and a regular snarl we had about it, the man at the terminus and me ; but I was determined that the fellow shouldn't torment me for nawthin', so I insisted on my trunk. ' Han't you got it yet ] ' says he. " ' No,' says I. " ' Waal, have a little patience.' " ' I'd rather have my trunk,' says I, ' and I'll make you a present of the patience.' " Waal, this riled him a bit ; so, by way of soft-sawdering him, I called him Major — but lor ! he turned round at it like a snappin' turtle, and he says, ' Don't call me Major — I'm a Kur-nel.' " ' Oh, I ax your pardon,' says I ; ' I'm sure I wish you was a Gin'ral, and then perhaps you might have some gin'ral infor- mation on the matter.' " ' Why, plague take you ! ' says he, ' what would you have me do? What like was your trunk?' "'Waal,' says I, "twas rayther like a trunk — one trunk, I reckon, is much like another.' " ' Hadn't it no mark on it?' " ' Oh yes, indeed,' says I. ' It was marked and scratched all over with the bad usage it got in your tarnation rail-cars.' " ' Had it a name on it?' says he 148 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. " ' No/ says I ; ' I travels anonymous/ "'Nor no letters on it?' "'No/ says I; 'there's some letters inside of it — but them's jirivate, and I guess you can't see them through the kiver/ " Waal, this riled him more than ever, and though I ralely meant nawthin', he thought I was pokin' fun at him, and his dander riz, I tell yer; he got quite savagerous, quite wolfish- like — and looking as ugly as thunder — ' You want your trunk,' says he. ' Waal, shall I tell yer how to get it 1 Whistle for it — whistle for it — that's the best thing you can do ; and then he walked oflf right away, as if he was goin' to bust his biler. " Waal, these last words of hisn sot me a leetel thinkin'. 'Whistle for my trunk!' says I; 'tworn't no use doin' that whilst the wind was whistlin' so bad, and the ingin was whistlin' tew — I shouldn't have been heerd a mossel. So I thought of a noo notion; I'd got a dog that Uncle Josh give me, a kinder mixter of a spannel and a tarrier — might have been a bull-dog for what I know, when the United States was settled, and jist changed himself with sarcumstances. Waal, he was a raal good dog, he was — he'd kill a rat or bring a keow home, or do auythin' that was handy — and he was very fond of me — allers foUerin' me abaout, and comin' whenever I whistled for him. Waal, one day this faithful critter got run over by a hay cart ; so what did I do but skin him, and kiver my next trunk with his skin — and jist to show how the critter's habits is survivin' in his hide, if I want my trunk now, I whistle for it." DUBLIN POETEES, CAEMEN, AND WAITEES. All these have characteristics which are worthy of a moment's noting. We land at Kingston as Her Majesty's mail-packet is made fast and is pouring forth her varied crowd of passengers on the jetty. Instantly we have a swarm of porters round us, some with tickets on their arms, and some without— the former the legitimate assistant of the traveller; the latter the poacher, who lays hands on any stray LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 149 bird he cau catch. Between these contending parties, of course, an active war goes on — the one grand in their author- ity, the other adroit in their devices. An example strikes us instantly. A man without "a number" is walking off with a passenger's luggage. " Stop ! " ciies out a ticket man ; " you have no business with that jiutleman." " No business ! " ex- claims the forager. " Well, then, sure it's a pleasure I have in sarving him." "Stop, I say!" shouts his antagonist; "you know you've got no number." "No number, do you say? — but I have, tho'. Sure my number is nine, barrin' a tail to it." Next you are laid hold of by a crowd of carmen. " Here's the car, your honour — thats the beauty." "Don't belave him," cries his rival; "he'll break down, sir. Look at his sjsrings! ain't they tied up with a piece of rope?" "Well," replies the first one, " we'll go the faster for all that — won't we have the spring ti(e)de with us?" The traveller is laid hold of by both arms and pulled about in all directions, while half of his luggage is on one car and half is jerked on the other, he doubting which he will be permitted to go upon himself, when the conflict suddenly subsides into a mysterious consultation. " Done ! " cries one of the carmen ; " Done ! " says the other, and they plunge their hand into their pockets. "What are you about!" shouts the bewildered passenger. " We're just goin' to toss for you, sir;" and they literally cry, " Heads or tails ] " for who shall have the honour of his honour's company. The man of the broken springs loses ; but with infinite good-humour he transfers the luggage to the car of the winner, helps the traveller to his seat, — when, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he says, "You lost me, sir (he never says, " I have lost yow "). " I'm sorry you lost me, for you won't be able to ate your breakfast when you get to your howtell." " Why not ?" demands the traveller. "You'll get such a jolting with them strong springs, sir, they'll shake every tooth out of your head." Other instances are related of the humour and shrewdness of these gentry. A stranger on one occasion asked a car- driver to set him down at a certain address in Dublin, which 150 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. was only round an adjacent corner, and when Pat had brouglit him to the spot the gentleman complained of it as an imposi- tion. " You might have pointed out the place to me." "Pointed it out!" exclaimed Pat. "Is it a finger-post you'd make of me ? Sure, then, you might have paid me for my pointing, and left me where you found me." To return, how- ever, to our travellei'. He is driven to an hotel, and, despite the prediction of the rival car-driver, he retains his powers of mastication, and readily calls for breakfast. Here another national characteristic comes out in the person of the waiter. He does not move aljout like other waiters, formal and smooth as his own napkin, absorbed in the point of what you'll take next, and only muttering the " Yes, sir," or " No, sii'," of a London place of entertainment. He gives you politics with the hot water, and flattery with the buttered rolls. "You look wonderful weU, sir, after the say-sickness. Some gentlemen looks as yellow as lemons, and maybe twice as sour. Do you like green or black tay, sir 1 They say the tays will rise, sir, since the French went to war with Moroca. Great meeting to-day in Dublin, sir. I suppose you are going to attind it ; perhaps you mane to spake, sir." " No, indeed I don't." " Oh, I'm sorry for tliat— you've such a spaking face, sir." " Have you any soda-water ? " " We have, sir." " Is it good?" "'Pon my honour, I don't know, sir— I never dhrink it myself." The wonderful composure of some of these persons, though sometimes very irritating, is certainly very laughable. I once learnt what was tlie judicious rule of a Galway waiter for taking liberties. I had left my note-book on my breakfast table while I went for some letters that were in my bedroom, and on my retm-n I saw this personage quietly inspecting my private records. On my reproving with some emphasis the impertinence he had been guilty of, he answered with the greatest caknness— " Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; I did not think you were in the room, or I wouldn't have thought of doing it." Their excuses for table deficiences are at times diverting enough. " Bring me a hot jilate, waiter .'—the beef is good, but the plates are cold." "The hot plates is not come LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 151 in yet, sir." " Well, get them in, sir." " I mane, sir, tliey are not in saison ; hot plates come in in October and goes out in May." — On another occasion a man asks for curi-ant-jelly to his haunch of mutton. " Beg your pardon, sir, the jelly is gone ; but I can get you some beautiful lobster sauce." THE IRISH BEIGADE. During the course of almost a century the brigade was enrolled in the French army, and had an honourable share in all the latter's brightest achievements in Flanders, Spain, and Italy. Many instances of its staunch fidelity and its daring, decisive courage might be quoted from the military records of those days ; but one especially may be selected, which, in its singular combination of the heroic and the grotesque, must be regarded as very national. Cremona, besieged by Prince Eugene, and defended by the French, was surprised one morning before dawn, and would inevitably have been lost but for the promptitude of the Irish. Whilst the punctilious and ornate Frenchmen were deliberately buttoning up their regimentals, the former, at the sound of their trumjjets, jumj^ed out of bed, and, simply staying to buckle on their cross-belts and cartouch-boxes, seized their guns and hurried to the Square, where, on forming in fighting order, their commander's words, " Halt — dress ! " were, at least in one respect, suiierfluous. Their indifference to appear- ance on this occasion was all the greater that the period was mid-winter, and the city was near the Alps. In this condition they were charged by the Austrian cuirassiers. It was steel- coats against night-shirts; but the linen trade of Ireland proved the more formidable of the two. The Austrians were driven back, and the French had time to form and recover possession of the town. For this brilliant service the Brigade was honoured with the emphatic thanks of Louis XIV., and also had their pay increased. But these fearless fellows, as may be supposed, carried abroad to their new service not only their courage and fidelity, but all tlieir exuberance as Irishmen. Their rollicking spirit 152 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER, and love of fun were quite as great as tlieir love of fighting, and at times were so opposed to propriety and discipline that the martinets of the French ranks had to make formal com- plaints on the matter. It was on one such occasion that a great compliment was paid them by the brave Duke of Berwick, who, however, had good reason to love them for their devotion to his father. " Marshal," said the king to him, " this Irish Brigade gives me more trouble than all my army put together."— " Please your majesty," replied the duke, "yovu- enemies make just the same complaint of them." . . . Of the anecdotes and jokes told of the Brigade during their extended foreign service — proofs of a humour and light- heartedness which even exile could not subdue— the number is indeed legion. Gallic vanity forced them often into the attitude of censors, and several of their repartees are excellent, and as full of sense as they were of pleasantry. Among the mass of these is one that has often been referred to other sources, — when a Frenchman, claiming for his country the invention of all the elegances, named among other things a ruffle, and Pat answered, " We improved on it — we put to it a shirt." In the same spirit, but less known, was his retort upon a shopkeeper in some petty town where he was quartered. The place had rather a pretentious gate, and the grocer, delating on its grandeur, and asking what the Irish would say if they pos.sessed it — "Faith, they'd say," was his reply, "we'll kape the big gate sliiit, or the dirty little town wiU be after running out of it." The sarcasm, however, was deeper and more es.sentiany Hibernian when, on his going somewhere to dine, after hearing great praises of French cookery, he saw a pot of soup brought in with a bit of meat floating on the top of it — upon which he jmlled off his coat, and being asked why he did so, said, " Sure I am going to have a swim for that little bit of mate there." Among the adventures recorded of the Brigade, one of the most amusing was an occurrence in the time of the Eegent Orleans, in honour of whose birthday a grand masquerade was given in Paris. It was a high-class affair, tickets were a LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 153 double louis d'or each — all the rank and beauty of Paris were assembled round the regent, and a costly and luxurious supper crowned the attractions of the night. Whilst the entertain- ment was proceeding, one of the prince's suite approached and whispered to him, " It is worth your royal highness's while to step into the supper rooms ; there is a yellow domino there who is the most extraoi'dinary cormorant ever witnessed ; — he is a prodigy, your highness — he never stops eating or drinking, and the attendants say, moreover, that he has not done so for some hours." His royal highness went accordingly — and sure enough there was the yellow domino, laying about him as described, and swallowing everything as ravenously as if he had only just begun. Eaised pies fell before him like garden palings before a field-jaiece — j^heasants and quails seemed to fly down his throat in a little covey — the wine he drank tln-eatened a scarcity, whatever might be the next vintage. After watchiufT him for some time the duke acknowledged he was a wonder, and laughingly left the room ; but shortly afterwards, in passing through another, he saw the yellow domino again, and as actively at work as ever, — devastating the dishes everywhere, and emptying the champagne bottles as rapidly as they were brought to him. Perfectly amazed, the duke at last could not restrain his curiosity. " Who," he asked, "is that insatiate ogre that threatens such annihilation to aU the labours of our cooks?" Accordingly, one of the suite was despatched to him. " His royal highness the Duke of Orleans desires the yellow domino to unmask." But the domino begged to be excused, pleading the jirivilege of mas- quei-ade. " There is a higher law," replied the officer — " the loyal order must be obeyed." " Well, tlien," answered the incognito, " if it must be so, it must ; " and unmasking, ex- hibited the ruddy visage of an Irish trooper. " Why, in the name of Polyphemus ! " exclaimed the regent as he advanced to him, " who and what are you ? I have seen you eat and drink enough for a dozen men at least, and yet you seem as empty as ever." " Well, then," said the trooper, " since the saycret must come out, plase your royal highness, I am one of Clares' Horse 154 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. — that's the guard of honour to-night — and when our men was ordered out we clubbed our money to buy a ticket, and agreed to take our turn at tlie supper-table, turn and turn about." " What ! " exclaimed the duke, " the whole troop coming to supper ? " " Oh, it's asy, plase your highness ; sure one domino would tlo for all of us — if ache tuk it in turn. I'm only the eighteenth man, and there's twelve more of us to come." The loud laughter of the jovial duke, probably the heartiest lie had had for a long tiiue, was the response to this explana- tion, followed by a louis d'or to the dragoon and a promise to keep his " saycret " till the entire troop had supped. PADDY AT SEA.i It has been the fashion to consider the Irishman rather as a soldier than a sailor, and yet the sea seems to offer something congenial to the Hibernian spirit. Its dark depths — its flashes of light — its terrible energy — its sportive spray — its striking alternations of frowning storm and smiling calm — reflect the Irishman so vividly, that one would think it his peculiar element. Many, however, have denied this, and have even gone so far as to say that the Irish make bad sailoi's, though one of Eng- land's gi'eatest admirals, Nelson's co-mate, the noble Colling- wood, bears direct testimony to the contrary. In one of his letters to an ofiicer who superintended the manning of his ships he says — " Do not send me any lubbers ; but, if you can, get me some more of those Irish lads you sent me^they were all fine fellows, and are now top-men, every one of them." The Irish have a right by national descent to be good sailors. The Pha?nicians, I need not say, w^ere the great seamen of antiquity, and that the Irish may claim them as progenitors is a fact that has been long established. The Irish buildings, arms, and language are all among its clearest evidences. Pat's fitness for the sea might further be illustrated by the 1 From tlie Selections from his Unpublished Papers appended to Lover's life ; Messrs. Henry S. King & Co., Loudon : by permission of Mrs. Lover. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 155 well-known skill and courage of the numerous fishermen and pilots who toil around his rocky shores, and pursue their avocations in the most tempestuous and dangerous weather. I am tempted, however, at this moment, rather to fall in with the popular notion, and recount the experience of an honest Irishman, whose sympathies, as will be seen, lay more with the land than with the water, and whose extreme innocence of the latter resembled that of a peasant who was observed crossing a ferry constantly, without any apparent object ; and on being asked the reason, said he was shortly going to emi- grate, and so took the ferry every morning " just to practise the say-sickness." Jimmy Hoy was a County Cork boy, who made one in the great exodus that was occasioned by the famine. Jimmy was not ashamed of his name — he boasted that it was " always ould and respectable;" that there "was cows in the family wanst;" "and that a j^ig was niver a stranger to them, nor a rasher of bacon at Aisther." Misfortime, however, had ground them down, as it had done a thousand others, to indigence, leaving at last only Jimmy and his old mother in existence ; and when he found that existence was daily a harder thing to support, he turned his face to the west, and induced his mother, whom he loved with true Irish warmth, to accompany him. Accordingly, selling off all they possessed, and making the best of their way to Cork, where a fleet of emigrant ships was loading, it so happened that in the hurry and excitement of the time, and amidst the crowd of people they encountered, they unluckily got separated, and went on board of different vessels — an error that Jimmy only discovered when his own had hoisted anchor and was standing out to sea. From this point it will be best to allow our friend to speak for himself. " So I scrambled, you see, on boord, and the minit my fut was under me — 'Is my mother here?' says I. With that a ecowlin' fellow that was haulin' in a rope that samed to have no end to it, turns to me and tells me I might go to — weU, I won't say where. 'Not before you, sir,' says I; 'after you is man- ners,' making him a bow ; and so I cries out and again, ' Plase, is my mother here aboord of ye?' and then as no one chose to 11 156 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. answer me I ran about to look for her, on all the flures they call the decks, though the people stood as thick as a drove of cattle in an alley, and scrougiug and roaring like that same, and I'd to squaze myself betwixt 'em from one flure to another; but not a squint of her could I ketch, sir, nor of any one as know'd her, — and so at last, when I kem back again, and was tearin' round the upjier flure, plump I runs into the stomach of a grand burly man at the back, with a red face and a big nose, and a gowld band about his cap — and who should he be but the capt'n. "'Who the d — 1 are you?' says he, pumping up all the brath I had left him. ' I axes your honour's pardon,' says I : * my name is Jimmy Hoy, and I was looking for my mother.' "'And did you take me for your mother, you omadhaun?' says he. ' Oh, not a bit,' says I, ' sir ; for if I had, you'd have found it out — you'd have got a hug that would have set you scraming. And so now, perhaps, you'U tell me, sir, if my mother is aboord of ye l ' " ' How should I know ?' he roars out, for now his brath was coming back, and he was lookin' mighty fierce. ' And what brings you here at all, you lubberly son of a sea-calf?' ' Sure, sir,' says I, 'I — I'm going to Ameriky; and as to my father, you're mistaken — he was no say baste at all, but Dennis Hoy, a County Cork man, and ' " ' I don't remember you,' says he ; ' you haVn't paid your passage.' ' Axing your pardon,' says I ; ' but I have, tho'. I paid it an hour ago, on shore, sir.' ' But you didn't pay it to me,' says he. ' Wliy, of coorse not,' says I, ' sir. You wouldn't have me pay it twice, would you?' " ' Well, if you hav'n't paid it to me,' says he, * you hav'n't paid it at all ; so hand out you're money, if you're going to make the voyage in this ship.' ' By my faith, sir,' I said, ' I can't, — and, saving your presence, if I could I wouldn't, seein' I've done that same already. But, sure, I don't want to be intruding ; if I've got into the wrong ship you've only got to stop her tiU you put me aboord of the right one.' " ' Well, that's a capital joke,' says he. ' Oh, it's not joking that I am,' says I, ' for I'm only axin' you what's fair, sir — for LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 157 then, you see, I'd find my mother, and my mind would be at aise.' " ' You and your mother may go to Chiny,' the capt'n bellows out — growing as red as any turkey-cock, and stamping his fut upon the flure till you'd have thought he'd drive it through it. * Axin' your pardon again,* says I, ' sir, we're goin' to Ameriky — and as for Chiny, all I know about it is what I've seen upon a plate, and ' " ' Howld your jaw,' says he, ' you vagabone, and pay your passige money at wanst.' ' I paid it wanst,' says I, ' sir, and I'd want a pocket as big as your ship to go on paying it for iver.' " ' You swindlin' Irish scamp ! ' says he, ' don't provoke me, or I will be the death of you ; ' and then all of a sudden he got quiet — oh, so terrible quiet, sir, and with such a hard look about his eyes that, to say the truth, he frekened me. * See now, my buck,' says he, — ' since you can't pay your passige, you shall work your passige.' 'Work it, sirl' says I. 'Oh, I would, and willin', — if I only knowed the way.' ' Oh,' says he, with a wicked wink at me, 'we'll soon tache you that; we've a turn here for instructhin' people that want to get their voyage for nothin'.' And with .that he put his hand to the side of his mouth and give a whistle that would split a flag, and up runs to him a hairy villin that was enough to scare a herd of oxen if he'd come upon 'em onawares. '" Tare-all,' says he, 'just take this chap in hand and tache him how to work his passige. Don't spare him — do you hear now?' 'Aye, aye, sir,' growled out Tare-all, giving me a nod, and howlding up his finger as much as to say — ' You'll come this way.* " And so after him I wint, sir ; and sad enough, as you may suppose — not thinking of myself, but what had become of my poor owld mother. After him I wint, to learn how I was to work my passige over — and by my throth, sir, it was the hardest thing I'd ever had to laru as yet. Were you ever aboord a ship, sir? — Oh, then sure it must have bothered you to hear the puzzlin' names they've got there. Don't they always make a woman of her? A ship's a 'she,' sir, you will remimber — 158 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. and don't they talk about her waist to you, and, by my faith, it's not a small one — and tell you sometimes ' she's in stays,' too, tho' I can't say I ever seen 'em. Though, to be sure, they say besides that she's often mighty hard to manage — and that's like a woman sartainly. " Then see the names they give to a rope, sir. First it is a hawser ; then it's a painter— thougli what it paints I nev«r knowed, sir ; then it's a rattlin, — but that it's always doin' ; and then it's the shrouds, — which manes, I suppose, that the poor passengers always get into them when the ship is going to the bottom. At the same time they're always agraable to tache you what it's made of — they'll give you a taste of a rope's end a good deal sooner than a glass of whisky. And what is it like 1 perhaps you'U ask. Work your passige out to Ameriky and you'll learn it fast enough. Then they're so ignorant they don't know their right hand from their left. It's all starboord or larboord with them, though, by my throth, as every night I'd got to slape upon the flure, I found it mighty hard boord. " The saUors, you see, are snug enough. They've got what they caU their hammicks — little beds tied up to hooks that they swing about in at their aise ; and it was after I'd been looking at them for a night or two in the deepest admiration, that I says to myself, says I, 'Why shouldn't I be making a little hammick for myself, to take a swing in like the rest, and not be lying here on the bare boords like a dumb baste in an outhouse 1' And so the next day, looking round me, what should I see but a hape of canvas that no one seemed to care about; so I cut out of it a yard or two just to make the bed I wanted, and that done, says I, 'Jimmy Hoy, you'll slape to- night as snug as a cat in a blanket, anyhow,' — but I didn't for all that. " I hadn't turned in half an hour when one of the crew crapes up to me — Bob Hobbs, sir, was his name, — and says he to me, 'Jimmy Hoy,' says he, 'it's mortial tired I am with my day's work, and the night before: not a wink of slape I've had,' says he, 'for this blessed eight-and-forty hours, so be a good fellow, Jimmy, now, and take my dooty for to-night.' Well, not liking to be ill-natured, though I didn't care much for the LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 159 fellow, 1 tould him that I would, and so I slips out of my new bed, and mighty quick, sir, he slips into it, and u\:t I goes on deck to take his place on the look-out. " And thin ther kem on such a night, sir, — oh, murther ! you'd have thought the divel himself was out at say, and was taking his divarshun-^blowing, hailin', and rainin' for six mortial hours and more — and pitchin' the oushen up into the sky as if he was makiu' haycocks. I thought the poor ship would have gone crazy. She jumped and rowled about as if her thratement was past endoorin'. Sure, if I had bargained for a bad night I couldn't have got a bettlier. Well, sir, the mornin' kem at last, and found me as well pickled as any herrin' in Cork harbour, and I was crawlin' oflF to my ham- mick, just to get a little slape and dry myself, when up comes the capt'n in a tearin' rage, and says he — "'You're a pretty blackguard, ain't you now?' 'Not to my knowledge, sir,' says I. ' Your knowledge, indeed, you vaga- bone ! ' ' Why, what is it I done ? ' says I. ' Done ? ' says he, ' you villin— when you're upsettin' the ship's discipline. You took Bob Hobbs's watch last night.' "'Tuk what?' says I. 'His watch, sir. Oh, murther, cajDt'n ! ' says I. ' Would you rob a poor boy of his charakter ? ' ' I say you did, you rascal,' says he. ' But I didn't, sir,' says I. ' I never took Bob Hobbs's watch, nor the watch of any other man — or woman ayther. I would scorn the dirty action — for I was rared in honest principles, and 'twas considered in my schoolin'. More be token, sir, I couldn't, for Bob Hobbs toiUd me himself that he had pawned his watch in Cork before he ever kem aboord.' " ' You stupid rascal ! ' he cried out, 'don't you know the manin' of what I say to you ? but I'll make you understand me presently — if you've got no brains you've got a back.' And what do you think he meant by that, sir? The ould tiger was goin' to flog me — but, luckily for me, you see the storm was gettin' worse. One of the sails was split in halves, and another was torn away entirely; so the capt'n, divil thank him! had to think about the ship, and not to be in- dulgin' his dirty vingeauce upon me. So he roars out mighty 160 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. loud, ' Set the storm jib there ! ' and half the crew run up the riggin' as quick as a crowd of monkeys, when — whistei'oo ! — would you belave it, sir ! by the book in my pocket, if that same jib wasn't the very piece of canvas that I cut the two yards out of, jist to make myself a bed, — and the minit the capt'n spied it he roars out agin like thunder, ' Who the d — 1 cut out that]' " ' 'Twas I, sir,' says I, ' but I only tuk two yards of it.' " ' Give him a dozen," says the capt'n. " * Thank you, sir,' says I, ' but the two is quite enough for me.' "And what do you think the villin meant by givin' me a dozen? — it was lashes that he meant, sir. Not con tint with the rope's end I'd had already — though there was no end to it at all — he towld the hands to lay howld on me, and tie me to the mast,— but before the miscreant could plaze himself there kem a thunderin' crack right overhead, and down kem hapes of sticks and canvas — and the capt'n bellows out agin, ' Clare the wrack ! clare the wrack ! — we'll sarve this lubber out directly.' " Well, I was willin' to wait, sir — and sure they'd enough to do. I thought at first it was all over with us, and the ship would be capsizin' — and they had scarcely got her to rights a bit, and my mind was getting aisy, when I hard a voice callin' in the distance, ' Jip a Hoy ! Jim a Hoy ! ' and I was lost in wonder entirely — 'for who knows me,' says I, 'or cares for me, in the middle of the great Atlantic oushen? Is it guardian angels that's taking pity on me, and coming here to save me from a lashing? ' So I tried hard to loose myself, and looking round what did I see but a ship sailing towards us, and the voice that know'd me kem'd from that, and I h'ard it cry again — 'Jip a Hoy! Jim a Hoy! ' 'Here I am,' says I; * here's the man you're wantin'.' "'Howld your jaw!' says the capt'n. 'Why, isn't it me they're spakin' to ? ' says I — 'and isn't it civil in me to answer 'em? Is my mother got aboord of ye?' * Bad luck to you and your mother ! wUl you be quiet ? ' says the capt'n. ' No, I won't,' says I. 'Why wouldn't I answer when I'm spoke LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. IGl to?' And with that the voice kem again — ' Jij) a Hoy ! Jim a Hoy!' 'Here I am/ says I agin — 'any news, plaze, of my mother 1' "'And with that the capt'n took a spakin' trumpet just to put me down, sir — to kape me from bein' h'ard ; oh, I could see that plain enough — so I roared out lovider than ever, 'Here's the man yoii're wantin';' but the trumpet gave him the advantage of me. I couldn't make out what he said at first, it was such a bellowing he kep up; but at last I h'ard him roar, 'Carried away fore-yard.' " ' Don't be tellin' lies of me,' says I ; ' it's only two yards that I tuk. Just now you said I tuk a watch, and now it's four yards I've been staling. Oh, capt'n, but it's cruel of you to ruin my charakter as you're doing, and in hearin' of the ship too — and my mother perhaps aboord of her.' "And then the voice kem from the ship agin — ' Where are ye bound to 1 ' " ' I am bound to the mast ' says I, ' and the capt'n is going to murther me.' " ' Will you howld your tongue, you rascal? ' says the capt'n, looking pistols at me. ' No, 1 won't,' says^I ; ' I'll expose you to the whole world for the shameful way you're thrating me.' " Well, we soon lost sight of the ship ; but the storm was as bad as iver, and only one good kem of it — they were too busy with the danger to be amusin' themselves with me. So I got myself loose at last, — and then seeing what a way they were in, I hadn't the heart to desart them, notwithstandin' my bad usage. ' No,' says I, ' I'll be ginerous, and stand by them like a man.' So I goes up to the capt'n, and overlookin' all he'd done, says I to him, quite kindly, ' Capt'n, is there anything I can do for you? ' " ' Kape out of my way, you vagabone, or I shall be tempted to do for you ! ' says he. And with that he made a kick at me as bad as a horse stung in a sand-pit ; but I made allow- ance for the throuble he was in, and didn't mind his timper. "AU this time I h'ard the sailors saying something about the anchor, and at last the capt'n was struck with a notion, and shouts out to them about me, 'Where's the best bower? ' 162 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. " ' Here he is,' says I, sir, running up to him again, and making a low bow at the same time. ' I'm the best bower on boord, sir, for my mother, when I was at school, paid tuppence a week extra to have me taught manners.' " ' I wish your neck was broke,' said he, ' you vagabone ! ' making another terrible kick at me in return for all my kind- ness to him ; and then kem up the bos'n, and the capt'n says t^ The Loam. There, sister, thou to me must yield, From Holy Writ the palm I win — " Behold the lilies of the field ; They toil not, neither do they spin; Yet Solomon in all his glory Was not arr;iy(!il like one of these." — What canst thou find in all thy story To match with thi.->, thro' centuries? — ■ 218 LIFE SKETCH Oi'' SAMUEL LOVEX;. The pomp of Solomon be thine, Thy lily's bi'ight array is mine. Tlie Loom. The stately lily's loveliness With admiration I confess; But there are humbler stems, that bear JMore useful products, though less fail", — And even beauty we may grant To the blue flower that crowns that plant Whose seed can soothe — whose fibre yield Raiment for those who sceptres wield. Bright, too, the flower whose changeful dyes, Tinting the j^lains in hopeful hour, Fore-run the bursting pod where lies A nation's wealth in downy dower — Nay, two great nations profit by the spoil Of simple labour and instructed toiL The Loam. Oh, for the glorious bygone days, When loudly rang the votive lays Of priestesses in temples fair To chant my praise, to court my care : Accurst had been the flippant tradei-'s tongue That then had ventured vaunt, Or dared to taunt When to my honour sacred songs were sung. Before my jDower the statesman quailed, — Aye, Rome — that conquered all the world — Had from her topmost power been hurled If gi'auaries had failed. Consuls, Dictators, Senates, Kings, Bade tendant galleys spread their wings To seek the garnered grain from far, Ere hunger roused a servile war. Far more they feared one harvest's blight Than all theii- other foes' united might. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 210 The Loom. The textile film of Tyrian dye Was privilege of royalty. We triamph'd each in different things; You fed plebeians — I clad kings. The Loam. Oh, shallow honour ! empty boast ! Is food or raiment needed most? Patrician pride had better borne Rent robes, than want plebeian corn. The Loom. 'Tis true the first necessity Of life is food — without it we Must die : but if life nought could give But food, what man would wish to live? The beast were brother to him then — Ev'n in liis lair could claim some kin, For he can choose and change his den, But cannot choose or change his skin. For raiment, only Reason cares; And mark ! to prove this natural law, The maniac wild his blanket tears, And crouches shivering in his straw. Frail the first bai'k the fisher bore, Contented thence his lure was thrown Along the safe requiting shore : More venturous craft had ne'er been known Had man not ventured first to wish For something more than bread and fish. 'Twas Commerce first enlarged the scope Of daring will, and tempted hope : The Loom not only freight supjilied, But gave the wings to stem the tide. Then first the sailor ventured far, Beyond the custom'd landmark driven; Then first he found the midnight star For higher purposes was given 15 220 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. Than idly to be gazed upon In wonderment when day was done. While drowsy drones on shoi'e did sleep, Those lamps of heaven in bright array Lit hardy watchers o'er the deep, And guided through the watery way, Till Science gave the compass birth And yielded a new guide to earth. The Loam. I never would deny the claim Of Commerce to a lofty aim In making, through magnetic sway, A path upon the pathless way ; But what's a trader's trip to foreign strand Compared with homebred toil, that ploughs our native land? The winter's furrow, bleak and bare, Cut by the patient ploughman's share, In springtide's brighter hour is seen In level streaks of cheering gr-een, And autumn crowns the smiling plain With waving wealth of golden grain ; While the cold furrows of the deep No impress of your labours keep — Soon as they're ploughed with empty wind A barren track is left behind. The Loom. A barren track you cannot call What Science traced with thought sublime. Helping a knowledge birth to all From out the fruitful womb of time. When in his fragile caravel Columbus crossed the western wave, And proud returning, came to tell He to the Old a New World gave — Oh, call not that a barren track Which bore such glorious tidings back ) LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 22] The Loam. Truce to these themes of ancient time, And foreign feats of foreign clime, Let's talk alone of England's glory, And all enough for loftiest story. England was great ere Trade made claim To share her triumph and her fame ; In the bold days of manhood's might, Of Agincourt and Cressy's fight, Little was heard of weavers then, When my brave sons of hill and glen, The yeomen bold, with " bills and bows ■' Made havoc 'mong our shrinking foes, — When thick the murderous arrows flew. And dealt out death from churchyard yew. The Loom. Even then, familiar with our craft, You called your arrow " cloth-yard shaft," And in the roar of battle loud It measured many a brave man's shroud. N"or in the battlefield alone Was won the good we're proud to own: The banded liurghers made a stand For that which makes our native laud Supremely blest, supremely bright — Our matchless means of civil right. When stalwart barons boldly won A charter from the worthless John, They helped themselves, and round the thi'one Made Freedom's circle but their own. Yet soon that circle wider grew, From the first stone that Freedom threw Into the stagnant moat around The gloomy tower Where, drunk with power. Besotted Tyranny had safety found; And idle reeds, slow-rotting round its brink. 222 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. Were shaken into action, and soon made Wild rustling music through the noisome shade, A sound might make the stoutest despot shrink. For it betold the time when bondmen learned to think. Offspring of thought, young Freedom then, Nursed in the burgher's wardmote, grew, And, strength'ning year by year, The dragon privilege o'erthrew. And taught to lords that men were men. The Loam. Aye, rail at lords, — that modern tune Of democrats, and all who love them: Like dogs, that simply bay the moon Because she's bright, and is above them, For me, I love the days of old When knightly praise gay ballads told. By followers sung in easy thrall, Beside some guardian castle's wall Where gallant lord, with banded spears, Held his dependants free from fears. Then was the ploughshare safely left To woman's hands, while sturdy heft Of goodly bill was grasp'd, to chase Mai'auders from the country's face. Those were the sturdy days for me, When men were daring, frank, and free To sow or reap, in peace or quarrel, The grateful grain, or glorious laurel! No newspapers were then to taunt. No demagogues were then to vaunt; But pleased dependants loved their lord, And all " worked well" with kind accord. The Loom, What! pleased retainers? — kind accord? If we may trust to History's word, Pleasing or kindness never made Men like Wat Tyler and Jack Cade. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 223 Had newspapers been then — a vent They'd proved for public discontent, And the rude rage of order's foes Been shaped in words — not spent in blows; Nor empty words — but such whose weight Might sway the balance of the State. Aye, safest is the high dominion That's broadly based on wide opinion. The Loam. Opinion claims no reverence But when its source is common sense, — "When, flowing from the good and wise, 'Tis like some mountain stream descending From heavenward heights, and grandly wending Its lengthening way through plains it fructifies: But when it springs among the base, Like waters in some swampy place, 'Tis sputter'd up by babbling fools. As foetid bubbles rise from dirty jsools. The Loom, Our forefathers in days of old Hid their opinions like their gold ; But now we better know their worth, And, for our interest, both put forth. No danger now of darksome j^lot. Men need not speak the thing that's not, No lying slave need now protest The rule his soul abhors, the best; The freeman who his wrongs may tell Can ask redress — need not rebel. And thus Opinion, with a double might. Can guide the stately power, and guard the public right. The Loam. As swamps breed fogs, so this Opinion Breeds croakers against all dominion. Some weaver, on whose cheek appears 224 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. The sickly tint of hard-worked years, In his mix(;d state of l)eer and bile All law and order will revile. A greasy newspaper he thumbs, The oracle of the back slums; There is the " Charter " well expounded. There is the Minister confounded, — The weaver swears that he could rule The nation better ; 's a fool ! He could adjust each knotty point Although '"the time is out of joint." • • • • • • The Loom. Say not to towns alone belong Mistaken views of fancied wrong. Is there no village alehouse den For conclave dark of growling men? Is there no Hodge, 'twixt night and mom, Who saves the State by high-taxed corn; Who — lively on unfettered hops — Would untax malt t' increase the crops Of barley, — but, his heart to cheer, Calls for another pot of beer? One more appeal to reason ! — I Plead for the genei'al family Of Art industrial, where the hand Creative is. The generous land Will reproduce the seed that's thrown Upon its breast with power its own. The coarsest bumpkin that e'er trod With hob-nailed shoes his kindred clod As well can sow the fertile plain As though a Newton cast the grain. Not so the ar.tisan, — his hand Elaborates what Science planned; Time-trained, with care, to plastic art Or textile skill, he does his part. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 225 The cliildren of the Loam await Creation's gift — while ours create! The Loam. What are thy trifling works to mine — The spreading oak and stately pine? In that the future ship's forecast, In this behold the aspiring mast. These come from me — the Loam! the Loam! I make the bulwarks of England's home! Oh, what a joy, how triumphant a pride When the bark of the Briton is launched on the tide — When the heart-shout of thousands makes one ringing whole Wild outburst of joy from a nation's full soul ; Where all feel in common — by sympathy's power Are spell-bound alike in the charm of the hour ; Where rank, in that moment forgetting its place. Shows the flush of fair cheek beside Labour's bronzed face. Where manhood's bold shout, and where beauty's bright smile, Together applaud the stout work of the isle, And kerchief of cambric and glazed hat of tar Wave welcome alike to the brave man-of-war. The Loom. With all my heart, sister, I grant you the pride Of your foiest-child grandly afloat on the tide. But the work is not "done," as you say, when the ship Glides, baptized by beauty in wine, from the slip. The slave of the wave, not her queen, might she roll If, when you gave the body, I gave not the soul — The impulse of motion for commei'ce or strife, To " walk the wide watei's, a creature of life." Who makes the wliite wings that she spreads to the gale ? If 'tis Loam gives the oak, it is Loom gives the sail; The rope must be spun that gives stays to your mast, To balance and poise ev'ry sail in the blast. If that blast should increase, and the tempest should roar. The cable must hold her from oif the lee shore; If the battle should rave, and the signal must fly 226 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. That bids each brave mariner conquer or die, 'Tis the Loom in its peace weaves the banner that flings A halo prophetic o'er Victory's wings, As constant she soars o'er that ensign that sees No veiling for ages in battle or breeze. Thought. Then Thought exclaimed, " No more contend For separate triumph, — to one end Your powers combined have made the State Such as it is — rich, free, and great : In the brave ship that rules the tide. The type of England's power and pride, Have you not shown that each has part — The native oak, the native art? Sisters, embrace then— proudly sure, In union, that ye both secure This isle that lofty pride of place Distinctive of the British race. Disjoined— to ruin both must fall ; Combined— ye guide and govern all." Of the poem called "Quill versus Steel" only nine verses are given by Mr. Bernard; we restore the other eight from Lover's MS., and present the whole poem as originally written by him at St. Helier's:— TO A QUILL PEN. Thou little minister of mind, When first thy nib begins to nibble, Some scanty food for thought to find, In prose or verse, plain words or quibble. How shyly, first, thy bites are made Around the base of steep Parnassus, As thistles are, -at first, essay'd. Most probably, by junior asses. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 227 But bolder grown, by custom taught, We nibble higher, higher still, Till what we first a mountain thought, "We reckon, soon, a moderate hill. At first a couplet, hardly hatch'd, In honour of our " Mistress' eyebrow " Is thought a glorious flow'ret snatch'd, O fair Parnassus, from thy high brow ! A sonnet next — a pamphlet then — A duodecimo soon follows ; Until, at last, th' omnivorous pen With greatest ease a quarto swallows ! But, gentle minister of thought. Not these thy greatest deeds must charm, The throbbing heart, with feeling fraught, For love or friendship thou canst arm. Thy fringe of plume, suggestive quill, Doth mark thee as a fitting minion To waft our wishes where we will — ■ Give wing to thought and speed opinion. I love thee for thy gentle down, Which warns us, while our thoughts we're tracing, That nought we write should cause a frown — No word escape that needs erasing. Oh no ! forbear, forbear the quill. All ye in bitterness who write ; Let kindness be its province stiU, And steel serve those who deal in spite. Give savage critic pen of steel When lie, in " slashing" liumour sinning. ** Dishes " an author like an eel. With something piquant — after skinning. Let forger foul, and slanderous snake, And the anonymous knave accurst, 228 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. All iu congenial darkness take The pen of steel to do their woret. A nd when, in crafty lawyer's hands, To make the worst seem best, the act is, The pen of steel first place commands To execute what's called sharp practice. And, pen of steel, most fitly serve In subtle statecraft's darkest phases : — When wielded thus, by men of nerve, How the bold flourishes amaze us ! In daring diplomatic hands. When pen of steel its match to meet is, Heav'n pity all the prostrate lands That fall beneath partition treaties ! Ah ! doubly steel'd the peu that writes When keen dij^lomatist makes his mark; And extra hard the nib that bites When protocols are signed by Bismark. Away ! away ! such pen of steel, Wounding the weak and the unwary; Come, my poor goose-quill, and reveal My fun to Frank, — my heart to Mary. Away ! away ! thou pen of steel, To all of hardened avocation ; Still serve the quill for those who feel And own a softer inspiration.^ In the latter part of the year Lover had another attack of serious illness, from which, however, he was recovering at the beginning of 1868. In telling us of his convalescence he mentions the publication of the collected edition of his Songs and Ballads. ' The first six, with the thirteenth and fourteenth verses, are here printed for the first time.— A. J. S. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 229 "St. Helier's, Jersey, January 3, 1868. " My Dear Symington, — Since I wrote to you last I have been very ill, — a bad cold laid me up — low sj)irited, and with- out the slightest appetite. I have been as weak as a cat, and fit for nothing but sitting, wrapped up by the fire, and feed- ing on chloric ether and such like, which is not fattening certainly. " Within the last three days I was enabled to get a di-ive in a close carriage — even that did me good — but the weather continues to be so wretched here that it gives an invalid no chance of making a fight. " I am too tired to say a word more. Kindest regards to all. — Yours truly, . Samuel Lover." "P.aS'.— The book is out— pray get it." From the long and interesting letter on hjonnology, which is given below, it may be inferred that Lover's re- covery continued to progress favourably, and, indeed, it was so far confirmed that he was able to keep two of the household festivals — his marriage-day and his birth-day — and even hopefully to anticipate their recurrence, although he felt that he could never more be strong. " St. Helier's, Jersey, March 5, 1868. My Dear Symington, — How kindly you have written to me, in every way ! To the man and the poet, the afi'ectionate friend and the willing admirer are made manifest in your long and welcome letter of the Ind. "I wish j'ou were a reviewer in the Quarterly; however, that you like my new volume is sufficiently pleasant without your praises being voiced in public, for I believe in your sincerity and your judgment, and hope your opinions may be shared by a sufficient number to satisfy the publisher as well as myself. " You shall have the seven, before long, I hope. Thanks for the Hymnal. I had not seen it Ijefore, and to see Roundell Palmer's name to it was a surprise, as I had never 230 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. heard it, before, in connection with sacred matters. I have looked nearbj through it, and the selection seems to me a very good one, and that he has not exchided Tate and Brady, and Sternhold and Hopkins, gives me pleasure, for I am of oinnion that their old versions are in some cases much better than many of the new. " In the first place they preserve the phraseology of Holy Writ much more than the modern, and a more strict endeavour is made to conform to the very text. " If modern versions had succeeded in a superior versifica- tion, had given better rhythm and rhyme, moi-e graceful turn in exchange for something of the old stiffness, one might understand why the moderns have succeeded in supplanting the ancients (if I may so call them). " But, instead of this, the moderns have chosen to make a sort of generalization of the subject-matter of the Psalms for theii' own convenience, and instead of the pithiness of expres- sion so remarkable in the true text, there is xoishy-washiness of matter, and the manner (as to poetic treatment) seldom better and often worse, than that of the old versions. "Isaac Watts is particularly open to objection as to bis rhymes. What sort of an eai' must the man have had who rhymes as follows: — powers adores powers endures wheels hills voice joys sit feet peace beasts ! ! ! Charles Wesley is not much better. One of his faulty rhymes, however, is a matter of fashion, for we find the same rhyme in Pope, that most melodious of rhymers, viz. so it is evident, that in Pope's day, 'join' was pronounced 'jine.' " But in Wesley we have fail hell hope up submit feet praise grace!!! LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 231 " Many other anonymous versifiers of the Psalms and writers of hymns offend in the same, and in other and worse ways, filling up their lame lines with vapid verbiage, so twaddly, indeed, as to be, to me, disgusting, from the manifest disre- spect such writers must have for the sacredness of the subject. To such writers may be well applied the line — 'Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread.' " In the collection you so kindly sent me I see, as you anti- cipate, many old favourites, and with the authorship of which I was unacquainted, and am now glad to be informed. Sir Eobert Grant is one of those authors, and he is remarkable for the firmness of his rhythm and perfection of rhymes — a good example you will find in that old favourite which is numbered 21 in the collection which you have sent me. " I supjDOse I need not tell you how much I have always admired the writings of Bishop Reginald Heber. If all hymnal transcribers and versionists were like him, then indeed Tate and Brady need not be regretted. Yet the twenty -third Psalm, as given by Tate and Brady, I think better than even Addison's version ; and two versions by Isaac Watts. " Having written so much, wdl suffice to show you that I am stronger than I was, and do not get weaiy of doing any- thing so soon as when I wrote to you last, but stUl I am under the doctor's care, and not ' up to much.' " How my strength may increase, with good weather, is yet to be seen, and between this and June there is time enough to see. I assure you that my wife as well as I are most anxious to visit you, but whether I shall be equal to a long journey is what could not be predicated just now. But even were I able, you have no notion what a very worn-out old fellow I have become, who ou^ht not to intrude his ailments and his 'wavs' into any house but his own. You have said in one of your recent letters that I am to do just as I like in your house, in my own nook, and you have added all sorts of good-natured assurances, but some of my ailments now are making me quite unfit for society. This last attack of cold has rendered me so deaf that I cannot hear without the aid of an ear- trumpet ; 232 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVEU. but I don't take snuff, so I am not quite so bad as Sir Joshua Eeynolds, and can 'shift' my trumpet without having recourse to a snutf-box. But this loss of hearing is a great trial. It cuts one off general conversation, and is a sort of banishment out of society. "As for the 'Lover's Bower' and the breakfast-table of 'Robin,' which you hold out as temptations, it needs not, dear friend, any other inducement to go so far, than the pleasure of again shaking hands with your own kindly self, which pleasure I fervently hope for and most earnestly desire to accomplish within this year. If at all, it must be in June, for September would be too cold, I fear, in Scotland. But ice shall see. The result depends on more than our wishes and our hopes. So we must ' wait a wee.' . . . " Touching your reading, of which you speak, there are only two among the gi-eat names with whose works I am acquainted — Bacon and Shakspere — the former tolerably, tlie latter inti- mately. I should like to see some of those poems of which you speak so highly, by the daughter of Havergal, the sacred composer. . . . " The following passage relates to the noble deed of Mr. E. B. March, who on the 7th of Dec, 1867, saved six lives from a French brig, the Nouveau Cahoteur, which came ashore in the tempest. The crew were seen and heard imploring assist- ance, but no boat could live in such a sea, nor could March get anyone to volunteer the attempt. Determined to save the poor fellows, he flung off his coat, swam to the vessel, brought back a line from her in his teeth; by the line, was then hatiled a hawser, and that made fast on shore saved the crew. Her Majesty conferred on him the "Albert Medal of the First Class." What a noble fellow that vice-consul of ours at St. Sebastian ! There is an excellent article upon the affair in the London Daily Telegraph of the 5th — one, I am sure, you would admire. Look for it if you have not seen it. It is plea- sant reading for those who have real hearts in their bodies, and have faith that virtue is not yet altogether banished out of this world — bad enough as it is, we cannot but own, in many ways. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 233 "With the united affectiouate regards of the two exiles here, to all, ever yours faithfully, Samuel Lover." In accordance with Lover's wish, expressed in the pre- ceding letter, the writer — who was then preparing for the press, his friend the late Miss F. R. Havergal's' first volume, The Ministry of Song — with her approval, sent eight of her MS. poems for his perusal. These were — "My Sweet Wood- ruff," "The Right Way," "Wounded," "Not Your Own," "Yesterday, To-day, and Forever," "Hidden Leaves," "Auntie's Lesson," and "No Thorn Without a Rose." Lover, on returning these, accompanied them with the following letter, interesting now, not only in relation to one who has recently passed away after so fully verifying his prediction, but also as being among the few latest letters which he wrote : — " My Dear Symington, — I have to thank you for a great pleasure in granting me the reading of the eight poems of Miss Havergal. V faith! Miss Havergal is a clever gal! Pardon this jocose twist of mine on the lady's name. You know how hard, if not impossible, it is for me to be serious. " What a charming mind is developed in these poems, and with how much artistic mastery the development is made ! Grace of expression and musical cadence, so suitable to the tenderness of expression in the subject, I think very remark- able in 'My Sweet Woodruff;' but I coincide in your opinion that 'Wounded' and 'Hidden Leaves' are the gems — the power in the former, and the amplitude of thought as w^ell as power in the latter, bearing evidence of a well-informed and accomplished mind — such, at the same time, being never intruded into the page, but unfolding gracefully with the sub- ject, and sometimes illustrating the meaning of the text, as in the happy application of the 'Eosetta Stone.' Then the poetic feeling that abounds throughout her verses, and these possess- 1 For an account of Frances Ridley Havergal, by the present writer, see Sunday at Home for September, 1879.— A. J. S. 234 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. ing a firmness of rhythm not to be surpassed, with great harmony of rhyme as well. What a ring there is in some of her couplets and single lines sometimes : — ■ " ' Leaves which grave experience ponders. Soundings for her pilot-charts.' Lonrfellow himself could not do better. 'o " ' None can copy, none can steal them. Death iUelf shall not reveal them, Sacred manuscripts of lives.' What intensity of resolution in that line which I have under- lined — even death, the all-compelling death — is defied. " I cannot resist another quotation : — " ' Yet it bears a shining story, Traced in phosphorescent glory. Only legible by night.' " What beautiful imagery is here ! and what a happy epithet is that of ' shining.' " With all her love of harmony, however, the lady ventures to violate accent in the word ' archives,' and I think she does well in so doing, for the word is invaluable in its place ; no other could give the dignity it confers, and the line would lose the fine ring it has if the word were truly accented : — " ' Indestructible archives ! * " The poems have excited so much admiration in me that I could not be careless about them. Of course they are to be published, and I anticipate for them a great success ; let me know when, for I must have an early co})y. I imagine Miss Havergal must have had some practice in comj^osition and versification before producing these poems. Such finish, I think, could not have been achieved in a co^ip d'essai. Neither covild a very young person have acquired the experience that is manifested in her poetry, nor could such an expansion of mind have taken place at eighteen. Indeed, she says herself : — LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 235 " ' My girlhood's spring has passed for ayo, With many a fairy tint and tone ; The heat and burden of the day Are better known.' And how gracefully the acknowledgment is made. What a charming line is — " 'With many a faii-y tint and tone.' Tell me, am I right in my surmises? I shall be glad to hear you have gotten the treasures safe back again. I kept them a day longer than I ought, perhaps, but I could not let them go sooner. Some of them I have read several times : one reading won't do for such poetry. Mrs. Lover is as delighted with Miss Havergal's genius as I am. "The dear good little wife sends her affectionate remem- brances. " I can write no more to-day. I will write again and notice some portions in your last letter which I must leave unnoticed for the present. — Yours, dear friend, very sincerely, " Samuel Lover." Miss F. R Havergal, proud of this hearty recognition, wrote LoA^er to say so; and several pleasant, friendly letters j)assed between them. She had long greatly ad- mired and been in the habit of singing some of his beauti- ful and touching songs, so that this introduction and episode were sources of mutual pleasure to these dear friends, both; now, departed — "not lost but gone before!" Lover still wrote songs, composed music, painted a little, contributed articles to magazines, corresponded with friends, visited and received visits from his Jersey neighbours, and, at times, was even able to sing them his own songs, new or old. As Lover was an authority on matters connected with Irish music, we quote the following passage from his pen : — 16 236 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. THE lEISH HAEP.i The harp, then, was the national instrument. Mr. Beanfort, in his essay on its history, says that " its true figure was dis- covered by the bards " — and " on examination it will prove to have been constructed on exact harmonic principles;" and among the proofs that its fame was widely diffused at an early period, the illustrious Dante had an Irish harp — of whose makers he observes that they not only excelled in its construc- tion, but had been unrivalled in its use for ages. The Irish had four kinds of harps, the larger of which — the clar seagh — was used only by the minstrels, whilst the other and smaller instruments were appropriated by ladies, ecclesiastics, and members generally of the higher classes. Again, their musical vocabulary was wholly distinct from any other, clearly proving an original school ; and in naming the strings of the instru- ment they showed that poetic and descriptive power of lan- guage which is remarkable in the conversation of the Irish to this day. The use of the harp, then, in Ireland, was co-extensive with the love of music. It was one of the usages of good society. At any festive meeting the instrument was handed round to all the company in turn, when every one was exj^ected to dis- play his skill and taste on it. Its use was, in fact, a part of a gentleman's education — the want of which would have been considered a very disci-editable deficiency. It is clear, there- fore, that the chief performers on an instrument such as this must have been great favourites with aU classes, and their influence was not lessened when their social standing was combined with so much jsolitical importance. . . . The last of the purely Irish bards was Carolan. It is now little over a century that he died and left behind him some of the most oi'iginal and delightful songs and music of his coun- try. Blind from the age of eighteen, his reading must have been very limited; and yet, considering the period he lived in, his literary accomplishment was something wonderful. 1 Taken, by permission, from the hitherto unpublished SelectioUj appended to his Life. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 237 Goldsmith testifies to this, who saw him in his own boyhood, and, in reference to his poetic power, compares its vigour to that of Pindar. To a highly convivial spirit he united, in his love eflfusions, a singularly pure and delicate feeling; and as an evidence of his constancy, as well as of the exquisite sense of touch which is peculiar to the blind, the story is related of him that he recognized his early love, from whom he had been parted twenty years, by the simple pressure of her hand. His charming song of "Mabel Kelly" well illustrates his poetic fancy, which was as graceful as it was tender, and esi^ecially the second verse : — " To gaze on her beauty the young hunter lies 'Mong the branches that shadow her path in the grove. But alas ! if her eyes The rash gazer surprise, All eyesight departs from the victim of love, And the poor blind one steals home with his heart full of sighs.'' By the kind permission of Mrs. Lover we are enabled to print for the first time the following ten poems, from a MS. volume left by her husband, and also to append a few jottings in prose. We give the poems as we find them, premising that, they lie under a great disadvantage, from laclcing the author's finishing touches and correc- tions : — WHY SHOULD LOVE INFLICT A WOUND? (Written for an Operetta.) When Cupid was a little fellow Crying at his mother's side, She stopt her ears as he did bellow, Soothing, all in vain, she tried. Thus tormented She presented Him a. plaything to amuse him, (Would the mother Gave some other ! ) Bow and arrow she did choose him. 238 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. Swiftly the naughty boy Seized on the dang'rous toy, And, ever since, about he's flying Among the wounded, sighing, dying. Silly mother, Could no other Plaything for your boy be found ? What a toy, sure, To annoy, sure ! Why should Love inflict a wound ? ONE, TWO, OR THREE.1 " One is the number for me," Said a churl in his selfish glee, " Tho' the number's small 'Tis cared for, more than all- Alike it holds its rule O'er knave, or sage, or fool. Beneath the sun Sweet number one To cherish all agree ; Beloved the best North, South, East, West, One is the number for me!" " Three is the number for me," Said the man of Astrology, " For great is the power of the trine In this mystic science mine. The Graces give their voice. To make this number choice, And three has a charm, 111 luck to disarm, 1 In Lover's MS. this song has a prefatory note, saying that it is "sometliing to workout." However, uniinisheJ as he left it, itisquaintandpretty. — A. J. .S. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER, 239 And, when bumpers are flowing free. The toast is crown'd With cheers all round In a joyous triple three ! " " Two is the number for me," Said a poet, in ecstasy, " For two is the number of eyes That remind us of stars in the skies; And two is the number of lij^s — Twin roses that Cupid sips Like a summer bee — Ne'er talk then of three. Two is the number for me. And two make a pair, Which is better, I swear, Thau three!" MERMAID'S SONG "There is light in the depth of the sea," A Mermaid snug to me. As dreaming I lay on the headland steep Towering over the ocean deep. " There is light in the depth of the sea Tho' it seemeth dark to thee. 'Tis deep but clear, and the sunlight comes To visit our secret sea-green homes. There are treasures unknown to thee, There is light in the depth of the sea. There is light in the depth of the soul O'er which, tlie billows of Fate may roll ; Light that shines, of which none can tell, Hid in the bosom's secret cell. There are treasures unknown to thee In the depths of tlie soul — in the depths of the sea — ■ There is light, wherever there's Heaven's control — In the deptlis of the sea — in the depth of the soul." 240 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. ON THE GIGANTIC FAILURE OF THE BANKING HOUSE OF OVEREND, GURNEY, & Co. (rOE THE ALMOST INCREDIBLE AMOUNT OP FROM TEN TO XWBUjVE MILLIONS STERLING.) Dread payment suspended — I fear we'll discover, Tho' Overend's ended, The end is not over. When big houses fall, No escape even for dodgers ; The crash reaches all, Whether owners or lodgers. I AM FREE. I am free, I am free as a bird on the wing, I am free, I am free as the wild mountain spring, The cloud that is floating in yonder bright sky In boundless expanse is not freer than I. The slavery once I embraced with delight, When love forged the fetters and hope made them light, I fly from with scorn, with contempt, with disdain. For her faith it is broken — and so is my chain ! But though cancell'd the vow and though broken the chain, Shall my bosom ne'er harbour soft passion again ? Oh, who would in loveless security live ? Sweet bonds are worth more than such freedom can give ! Then fly, wounded heart, and companionship find In another that's loving, and constant, and kind, And never did woman her tenderness twine Round a heait more impassiou'd and faithful than mine ! LINES FOR A SONG OR DUET. The sun is o'er the brake, But the breeze is on the lake; Come in my light canoe, And I will fly with you LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVBR. 241 Where Zephyr's kiss is sweet, And the rippling waters fleet; — And time more fleetly still will glide With us upon the sparkling tide. Oh do not part so soon, Anon the lover's moon Will shed a mellow light Over the silent night; The rippling wave is all That bi'eaks the lovely thrall Of silence, o'er the moonlit tide, Where, mute, we're sailing side by side. With a love too deep for sound ; — 'Tis in cm- hearts profound. With a bliss too bright for sighs ^ It glitters in our eyes. Like the moonlight on the lake, Let every ripple wake A brilliant speck on life's swift tide, As o'er the silent lake we glide. Let us talk of grief no more Till the bat is flying. Fitter, mem'ry's sadd'ning love When the day is dying. When the joyous sun hath fled And weeping dews around are shed:— Sad things are most fitly said While the night wind's sighing. Sighing round some lonely tow'r Where, within, is mourning; - And on the hearth, at midnight hour, Low the brands are burning : There, the embers, fading fast (Relics of a glowing past). Tell of fires too fierce to last ; Lost Love knows no returniusr. 242 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. SHAKSPEEE PROPHETIC. " We've scotched the snake— not killed it" To strike a man when down is vile, To strike a woman so, who'd do it? None but a wretch with sneaking smile, Who'd strike and say—" I but review it." A serpent (still the woman's foe), When thou'rt at last reviewed some latter day, Some demon smiling at thy woe May lead thee off, and whisper "Saturdiiv;" Say, "Here, reviews are never botched, But retribution just fulfdl'd; And snakes on earth that are but scotched, With sterner justice here are killed." MY HEART HAS WINGS. My heart is light For every flight Where worth may brace its pinion. And circles free In healthful glee O'er honour's wide dominion. No feather moults Tho' poison'd bolts Be shot from envious strings, It mounts too high For such to try — My joyous heart has wings. Should friends betray Or cold delay Chill the warm tide of feeling, Oh who would wait Their close-barred gate In beggar's tone appealing? Not I, by Jove, I'd rather rove LIFE SKETCH OV SAMUEL LOVER. 243 Where desert Lapland fliugs Her suow-shroud white O'er winter's night — ^y joyous heart has wings. Should falsehood stain The sparkling chain Of Love's own magic making, 'Twill rust the link And none may think Such chain is safe from breaking. My heart defies Such worthless ties, Disdainful, down it flings The festering chain That brings but pain — My joyous heart has wings. Let sordid slave Enjoy the cave Where gold and diamond glisten; Give me to fly To yon bright sky And to the lark's note listen. What gold could make Yon sky and lake Where sunshine brightly flings Its glories o'er The wave and shore? — Thank God ! my heart has wings ! BABY DEAE.1 CRADLE-SONG Or THE BUCCANEER's WIFE. Recitative. Oh, source of grief and joy Is love like mine! Without avail 1 Mrs. Lover informs us that this was one of Mr. Lover's latest poems.— A.J. S. 244 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. I watch, thro' tears, for the returning sail! No more the sail I'll watch, but watch my sleeping boy. My sleejjing boy that rests beneath the shadowy pine. Song, In thy hammock gently sleeping, Dearest baby, have no fear ; While thy mother watch is keeping Danger never can come near. I am here. Baby dear, Mother's eyes Watch her prize ; Pois'nous wing Nor noisome sting Shall harm thy sleep, Tho' I may weep. Weep for one that's far from me, Far across the stormy sea. Let me dash the tear away! — Better far to hope and pray; Oh, solace rare! A tear may mingle with a pray'r, A pray'r for thee, my baby dear, And one, alas! that is not here. — Baby dear, baby dear. In thy hammock calmly swinging, Gently is thy mother singing Lullaby to thee. TWO JOTTINGS FEOM LOVER'S NOTE-BOOK. "The parish clerk of the Roman Catholic chapel at Kil- larney addressed the congregation as follows : — "'Let me have silence !' Then he put on his spectacles and read out — ' Take notice — that on to-moiTOw second Mass will be first IMass, and there'll be no last Mass.' "Vouched for as Sk fact by Samuel Lover, who was told it by Kate Fei-rell, who had it from Dr. M'Swiney." LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVEB, 245 A SIGN-BOARD PLACED AS A HUMANE WARNING IN THE MIDDLE OF A FORD. " Take Notice, that, whenever this board is covered by the river, this ford is dangerous." In his MS. album we find the following quaint and complimentary lines, which, in the month of March, he addressed to his good friend and physician, Dr. Dick- son: — LINES to dr. JOSEPH DICKSON, OF ST. HELTER's, JERSEY. Whene'er your vitality Is feeble in quaHty, And you fear a fatality May end the strife, Then Dr. Joe Dickson Is the man I would fix on For putting new wicks on The lamp of life. Jersey, March, 186a CHAPTER XIII. 1868 : Last Six Months of his Life spent in .Jersey — Failing Health — The Only True Source op Comfort — His Death — Funeral — Tablet in St. Patrick's, Dublin — Conclusion. Ima-easing Debility— Hopeful yet Resigned — Letter to Rev. E. H. Nelson — Trust in liis Saviour— Lover's Dream — His Last Occupations- His Death — Mrs. Lover's Touching Account of his last Illness— Interment at Kensal Green Cemetery, London — London Irish Volunteers attend Funeral — Tab- let in St. Patrick's, Dublin— Religious Feeling— Estimate of Character — His Memory Cherished — His Irish Songs sure to live. Ever since the last severe illness which Lover had, he felt weak, and very little exertion knocked him up. He 246 LIFE SKETCH OP SAMUEL LOVER. revived rapidly, however, and took a cheerful, hopeful view of the future, although he could not shut his eyes to danger, ahead, from recurrent attacks of bronchitis. In spring, he was again laid low, and \AT.'ote thus sensibly and touchingly of his now, manifestly, failing health : — "St. Helier's, Jersey, April 22, 1868. " My Dear Symington, — By this post, I send you the auto- graph copy of the lines you so much wish to have, and, you would have had them sooner, but for my illness. The weather here has been of a very treacherous chai-acter during the greater part of this mouth, — hot sun and east wind being of frequent occurrence; and, with all the care I could take, I, nevertheless, have been hit again and confined even to bed. I am somewhat better within the last two days, but still suffer from bronchitis, and am not allowed to leave the house. " Ever since the bad attack I had in January, I have been painfully conscious of a state of weakness which has made even slight exertion u-earisome to me, and this weakness, doubtless, has rendered me more liable to fresh attacks of malady; and if I could not 'pick up' strength before, what hope is there of it now, after a second knock-down blow? Now, dear friend, it is quite out of the question that I could at- tempt so long a journey as that to Glasgow in June, therefore I write to you, thus early, that you may make arrangements for other friends to go to you, for, as I am unhappily unable to enter on the enjoyment of such intercourse as your society affords, it would be very unfair that I should play the dog in the manger, and stand in the way of others moi-e fortunate and less sickly than I am. Remember my age, dear friend. I completed my seventieth year in February, and, without waiting for the eighty, I begin to feel that 'labour and sorrow' which the Psalmist so truthfully and jDoteutly tells in ttvo words. (By-the-by, cend me the translation of the Psalms you spoke of, as used in your Church of Scotland, which you told me are so much closer to the original.) "I am so deaf, that I cannot hear without the aid of an ear- trumpet. I cannot even hear the true tone of my own voice. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 247 — I that used to enjoy conversation so much, — I that loved to heai- my friends, and sing for them. Is a man, used to such things, when totally bereft of them, and made a cipher of, as it were, by their loss — is such a man, if ever so strong, fit for going about this world and for mingling in society? You will scarcely answer ' Yes,' I think — but when such a man is not strong, but so weak that a short walk, or rather a snail pace for half an hour, makes him ieel jaded — then I think the quiet aud privacy of home are the fittest for him. "Writing all this, I assure you, is very painful to me. I know you wish to see me, with my wife, in your house, and just as truly do I wish it might be so permitted, and that I could see you, face to face and day by day, in social intercourse, but I am painfully conscious that I must not look forward to long journeys any more. They are totally and for ever beyond my strength. "But while my body thus yields to time, my mind is unim- paired. Have I not cause then, dear friend, to be thankful — as I am — to the Almighty Father] " I have shown this letter to my wife, and the dear, good, little soul has been shedding tears while she read it — for she knows how true it is, and she agrees with me, in thinking I ought to write to you as I have done, seeing the impossibility of my accomplishing a long journey. She sends her love along with mine. — God bless you and yours, dear friend, " Samuel Lover." In May, he wrote as follows : — " St. Helier's, Jersey, May 2d, 1863. "My Dear Symington, — My dear wife's little note will have told you how ill I have been. I was too langviid to write yesterday. To-day I feel better. The weather is better ; and that, I think, has much to do with it; so with increase of sun- shine and absence of cold winds I hojje this mouth will lift me up by degrees from the painful sense of prostration of which I have complained to you. You are veiy very kind in your wishes towards me, and as you will not invite anyone else instead of us, for June, desirous as you are to ' keep the door open ' for us, I look forward to the hope of our meeting, as you do, and when June arrives I hope, please God, I shall be well 248 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. enough to go, by moderate stages, to the north. Believe me, that nothing but total and absolute incapacity on my part shall prevent this. . . . Thanks for the Book of Psalms. . . . I do not idly ask for a book — I read what I ask for. The quaint formality of these Psalms is interesting in a liter- ary point of view. Religiously considered, I have never seen any rhymed versification at all comparable to the stately prose of the Psalms as given in the liturgy of the Church of England. I must not write any more to-day. — Yours faithfully, " Samuel Lover." He could not, he said, write more that day, and so he laid down the pen; alas! never again to resume it to us. Although still faintly hoping, when he wrote, that he might so far recover as to attempt a journey north during the following month, by taking it in easy stages, yet he felt quite resigned to the will of God if it should not be so. That letter, closing with an expression of his admiration for the " stately prose of the Psalms," as given in the grand and noble liturgy of the Church of England, was the very last direct communication which the writer ever received from Lover's own hand. Towards the end of this month he wrote a letter to his friend the Rev. Edward Horatio Nelson, of Regent's Park, London, which clearly shows that Lover now believed the end to be not far off, and also that he firmly rested his hopes on his Savioui': — "My Dear Friend, — I incline to think that I have not long to live, and, in case of my decease, I make a farewell request to you — namely, that you will perform the burial service when my remains are laid in the gi^ave. In case I shall be sum- moned as soon as I anticipate by my Heavenly Father, you will be pleased to have my assurance that I look with a firm faith to have His rod and His staff" to comfort me through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and that, through the tender mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, I may be gathered among the flock of the Good Shepherd. LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 249 "With affectionate regards to you and Mrs. Nelson and your dear family, I say Fai'ewell ! " I am sure you will remember, in all kindness, your old friend, Samuel Lover." "Jersey, May 28, 1868. On June 1st, 1868, Mrs. Lover wrote: — "Clear View, St. Lawrence's Valley, Jersey. " Dear Mr. Symington, — With the deepest sorrow I have to tell you of my beloved husband's dangerous state. Nearly three weeks since he was taken much worse, and since then has become so very weak as to cause the greatest anxiety. He wishes to make you acquainted with his condition, and, with his affectionate regards, to say — the Hymnal gives him daily pleasure and comfort. He is quite aware how precarious his state is, and in every way is prepared for whatever event it may please God to ordain. He has given me iu writing a very remarkable and wondrously beautiful dream he had one night lust week ; could you see it, it would assure you, more than any words can from my poor jDen, of his perfect submission to the divine will. He is all love, gentleness, and patience. Pardon any more. — Ever yours, Mary J. Lover." The dream, to which reference is here made, was after- wards sent us in MS., and is as follows: — THE DEEAM. SAMUEL lover's LAST COMPOSITION. It has been my habit for a long time, that, amongst the private prayers I address to God before going to rest, this passage always has been present : " AVhenever it shaU be Thy pleasure to call away Thy unworthy servant, may Thy rod and Thy staff comfort me through the Valley of the Shadow of Death ! " Never had that prayer been more fervently made than on the evening of the 21st of May, 1868, in Jersey, when I knelt down by the bed-side. In the middle of the night, or rather Friday morning, the 22d, I had a dream. 250 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. I thouglit I had entered the Valley of the Shadow. It was a deep gorge and narrow, and high cliffs, on either hand, rendered it also dark and shadowy, and as the valley lay before me, further in advance, still deeper and darker it grew, till, in the extreme distance, all form was lost, and nothing but intense darkness prevailed. Just then, relieved upon that back-ground of gloom, sud- denly I saw Jesus Christ, in wondrous radiance, surrounded by sheep. I woke the moment my senses were impressed with this lovely, glorious, faith-inspiring vision; and oh! what a com- fort it was to me thus to wake ! My bodVy suffering, even, was relieved, when my poor soul was thus strengthened. It seemed to me as if my prayer, made that night, had been heard and granted by my merciful and gracious God, and that I need not fear the Valley of the Shadow of Death, where Christ Himself was waiting to care for the sheep. . . . We both thought our houi- of parting was very near that Friday. It jDleased God to permit my strength to be somewhat restored, and, on Sunday, I was much struck with the first verse of the Psalms that belong to the Morning Service of that day (24th), as my wife and I read it together. The words are indeed ]'emarkable : " I am well pleased that the Lord hath heard the voice of my prayer." All the more was my soul comforted as I recalled the lovely vision vouchsafed to me on Friday morning. May 25, 1868, Jersey. Samuel Lover. On the lOtli of June Mrs. Lover wrote that he was a little better and more hopeful, for there had been " no interruption to the rally of the last ten days." " The seven poems," said Mrs. Lover, to us, "which he transcribed for you, were almost the last things he wrote," About the same time he completed the setting of " The Lay of an Irish Minstrel," on the occasion of the visit to Ireland of the Prince and Princess of Wales, beginning:— LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. 25l "When whisper carue lu friendshijj's name, Across the wave careering, That Dublin's Earl And Denmark's Pearl For Innisf ail were steering ; To every heart It did impart A joy as rare as tluilling. Though pen be weak Such joy to speak, The spirit's more than willing. Oh, Old Erin ! That home of hearts — sweet Erin ! A ki)idly deed Will find its meed For ever in old Erin." He continued to make entries in his journal until the 15th of June, but "a very little writing and a very little reading then went a long way with him," as he used to say, for strength was daily declining. On the 2d of July, Mrs. Lover sent us the follo^ving bulletin : — "Clear View, St. Lawrence Valley, July 2d. " Dear Mr. Symington, — I grieve to tell you there has been a sad change since I last wrote, and that, now, my beloved husband's prostration and sufferings aie so great as to make us apprehensive any hour may be his last. With thanks for your kind letter, believe me, very sincerely yours, "Mary J. Lover." He survived only four days longer; and, sensible to the very last, sweet and pure, like " A later-flowering rose Child of the summer houi'S, though blooming here Far dovm the vista of the fading year," i 1 Charles Tennyson Tinner. 17 252 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. resting all his hopes on his Saviour, he sank peacefully to rest, in his seventy-second year, at his residence in St. Helier's, on the 6th of July, 1868. Mrs. Lover survives him, and the following is her simple and touching account of his last days, sent us, the month after her great loss. "Windsor, August 26, 1868. "My Dear Mr. Symington, — I am sorry your letter has remained so long unanswered. I desire not only to thank you for your very kind and consolatory expressions of sympathy for me in my bereavement, but also to comply vi'ith your request and tell you all I could of the last days of my beloved husband, and, not having been very well lately, I have been unable to write sooner. "Though it is painful to speak of the last illness, still it is comforting, for all of him savoured of peace and goodness. Never was he so gi-eat and noble as in those last weeks of anguish and weakness. He had much illness through the winter, but we looked forwai'd to bis improvement, and rally- ing in a warmer season, and, until Ajjril, were not without hope. On the ISth of that month he was seized with bron- chitis ; it was severe, and the poor heart very feeble. "We then thought strength must soon give way, but he continued nearly twelve weeks louger, weeks of much pain and sufiering, yet borne with such angelic patience and resignation. I can give you no notion how sweet and holy his nature was through all that time; it was as remarkable as I believe it to be rare.. Early in May he transferred all worldly matters entirely to my care, giving me in writing the fullest instructions wherever there was a difficulty ; that done, it seemed as if his whole sold was with God, — yet was he ever the most tender, the most considerate, for all about him — encouraging and comfort- ing, when our strength failed. " I inclose the copy of a dream he had, after which he often said ' he felt as if he did not belong to this world.' The dream was so beautiful to me, as in the fervour of thankfulness be told it, that I asked him to write it, and most precious is this LIFE SKETCH OF SAMCTEL LOVER. 253 last of his many touching compositions.^ I also inclose a view of the spot loved by us both, and so hallowed to me by the dearest and saddest memories. Half-way up the hill, above the mill, stands the little cottage 'Clear View.' The view from our windows was charming, and a source of great enjoy- ment ; through many a day, we watched together the play of light and shade on that ever-changing scene; even the last day, at very, very early morn, the windows were opened and the chair brought near, that he might see the sweet country, and watch the wave, that was ebbing away as gently as the life I was watching. " My beloved one was very feeble that morning, but cheer- ful ; after taking coffee, as usual, he walked into the adjoining room, and springing upon the couch almost with the frisk of a boy, he was asleep instantly his head touched the pillow, and enjoyed unbroken rest for nearly an hour and half. He then asked for the medicine, and, rising to take it, he was suddenly worse. We all knew death was very near; he was perfectly conscious to the last moment, and a little before five o'clock in the afternoon he was at rest for ever. — "With my kind regards. Dear Mr. Symington, very truly yours, "Mary J. Lover." On the 15th of the month he was interred at Kensal Green, London ; his comrades of the London Irish Volunteers following his body to the grave, where the funeral service was read, in accordance with his own request, by his friend the Eev. Edward Horatio Nelson, of St. Stephens, Regent Park. Every one seemed more anxious than another to pay tributes of respect to his memory; and the manifestation of this friendly feeling was wide, deep, and spontaneous. Witness the attendance of the Volunteer Corps, which was suggested by the Marquis of Donegall. We tran- scribe his note, now before us : — ' See " Dream," page 219. 254 LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER, "London Irish "Orderly Room, York Chambers. Rifle Volunteers. Adelphi, W.C, London, July 9, 1868. "Dear Captain Montgomery, — I was very sorry to see the decease of one of our oldest and most valued members, 'Samuel Lover,' recorded in this day's paper. " I should be delighted to show any mark of respect we could to his memory ; -and if the family would not object and should there be time I will give notice to enable such mem- bers as may feel inclined to follow him to the grave. — Yours very truly, Donegall, "Captain Montgomery, L.I.R.V." Com. L. L R. V." Of him who was thus borne to the tomb, it may truly be said : — " The tears of his friends laid the dust." A tablet to his memory has been placed in St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin, in the aisle, near the north transept, where it can be well seen. It is of white Parian marble, with a margin of black, while an elaborately and finely sculptured wreath of laurelled tracery encircles the whole design. The Dean of St. Patrick's, in a letter which we have seen, cordially expresses his satisfaction at having such an interesting feature, as the tablet, added to the attractions of his cathedral. The following is the inscrip- tion, and it will be observed that the latter portion is taken from Lover's OAvn words, made use of in the note which he wrote to tlie Rev. Mr. Nelson, when requesting him to read the burial service at his interment: — " In Memory of Samuel Lover, Poet, Painter, Novelist, and Composer, who, in the exei'cise of a genius as distinguished in its versatility as in its power, by his pen and pencil illustrated so happily the characteristics of the Peasantry of his country that his name will ever be honourably identified with Ireland. He died July 6, 1868, aged 72, in firm faith that, having been comforted by the rod and staff of his Heavenly Father, in ap- LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER, 255 proaching the dark valley of the Shadow of Death, he would be, through the tender mercy of his Saviour, gathered among the flock of the Good Shepherd." With an honest, frank, noble nature, and much deep, though unostentatious, religious feeling, Lover, as well as his true helpmate, was a sincere and devout member of the Church of England. Bright, pure, honourable, conscientious, and humble, — to the very last, his kindly, genial spirit tried, in countless ways, to make others happy, and "to scatter bliss around!" In our own pleasant experience, which was also that of his other friends, time strengthened an aflfectionate regard Avhich was only interrupted by death. Such was the bright and happy career of one, who, from the time of his boyhood when he breathed health on the Wicldow mountains, down to his peaceful end at St. Helier's, in his seventy-second year, was fortunate in all he undertook; because, along with a brilliant, versa- tile genius, he was honest, honourable, and dowered with practical common sense; and he also possessed a force of character, with a rare capacity for persistent work, -which enabled him successfully to carry through, and master, whatever he resolved to attempt. Warm-hearted and pure-minded, tender and true, joyous and brave, — Samuel Lover, humbly accepted the strengthening and comfort- ing truths of Eevelation, reverencing God, and sincerely loving his fellow-men. If the "steel pen," at a rare time, was taken up instead of his " goose-quill," ^ and dipped in gall, it was only in righteous indignation over some wrong done to others, and always in defence of the right. Lover's beautiful miniature paintings were exquisite works of art, on which were expended his very highest 1 See his poem, p. 226. 256- LIFE SKETCH OF SAMUEL LOVER. powers; but these, though his greatest works, are but little known to the world in general. In short, the fact that Lover, the author of " Rory O'More," was a painter at all, is, in the present day, known by very few. On the other hand, his Irish peasant songs, — inim- itable, piquant and unique, terse and musical, overflowing with tender affection and natural pathos, sparkling with wit, and beaming with kindly humour, innocent fun, and cordial geniality, — are universally appreciated, and sung con amore, wherever the English language is known. His features and expression are faithfully and happily represented in Foley's admirable bust. Lover amply succeeded, as we have seen, in making good his mark, in various walks of art and literature; finding relief, during a busy manifold life, mainly in change of occupation. His tastes were simple, and his life pure. Thoroughly unselfish, hopefid himself, and helpful to others, possess- ing a bright, happy disposition, and a noble nature which was the very soul of honour, he was respected and loved, by all who had the privilege of knowing him. Cherished thus, Lover continues to live in the hearts of his personal friends; while his name will be handed down to posterity by means of his Irish Songs, which, matchless and music-winged, assuredly are treasures "Not of an age, but for all time!" THE END. BOOKS OF PERMANENT INTEREST, PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 4S= Hakpek & Bkothers will send any of the following works by mail, postage prepaid, to any jmrt of the United States, on receipt of the price, Deshler''s Afternoons with the Poets. Afternoons with the Poets. By C. D. Deshler. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1 75. Bayne''s Lessons from My Masters. Lessons from My Masters : Carlyle, Tennyson, and Ruskin. By Peter Bayne, M.A., LL.D. 12mo, Cloth, f 1 75. 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