THE GOOD ADVISER.

AN IRISH SKETCH.

Quivi licto ride il bel smeraldo."-TASSO.

A pleasant spot is this green island of ours, with its heathery mountains, shining lakes, and fertile valleys. It is not classic ground, like the hills and dales of our thistle-crowned sister; yet I love to tread its shamrockcovered fields, to climb its rugged rocks, and even to scramble through its bogs; for, be it observed, there is more of the picturesque in real Irish bog-trotting, than people in general dream of. Oh! the delight of a free mountain ramble! the fresh bounding feel of renewed life, the spring of love that flows forth to every thing and being within our ken, and also, I trust, of praise, and gratitude to Him who "formeth the mountains," and whose is "the strength of the hills.”

A stranger coming to Ireland admires its scenery, and laments that the moral and religious attainments of its peasantry are nearly in an inverse ratio to the beauty of their land-he seizes some of the more salient characteristics of the persons both high and low with whom he comes in contact, and he then goes home and fancies he knows what Irishmen and Irishwomen really are. Now, with humility be it spoken, we Hibernians are not so easily learned by rote, as all this comes to. As soon may you get the ripples on a mountain stream, or

the moonbeams dallying with an aspen tree, or a spoiled child of three years old, to stand still while you paint their likeness, as induce our restless Irish character to let itself be daguerrotyped by any plodding John Bull of them all. But, although we will not let others find out much about us, we may know something of ourselves, and we, to whom reading and writing came by nature,' not by Phonography and Stenography, or any other ography that ever was devised, we, I say, of the 'educated class,' may recount some true anecdotes of our countrymen, for the delectation and enlightenment of our English friends, always provided they care to listen to us.

Passing some time lately in a wild district of Munster, I was walking one day with a friend, when we were overtaken by a man with whom we had both some acquaintance. He belonged to the better class of farmers, was a shrewd intelligent man, and one who bore an excellent character. After the customary cordial salutations, he slackened his horse's pace, and walked along with us. 'Jack,' said my companion,' what was the name of that "good adviser" you were telling me of?' This was said in order to draw out a story which he had previously heard, and which had excited my curiosity. Jack eyed us rather suspiciously, evidently fearing our ridicule, but at length we induced him to recount a tale which he devoutly believed, and which I will repeat as nearly verbatim as possible. There's a man called Paddy Leary, living between this and the town of D., and he's the best adviser ever you came across all the counthry do be goin' to him, and he advises 'em about their sowls, and about sin, and all about the other world, for he seen it.' How do you mean,' I asked, 'that he saw the other world?' 'I'll

tell you, Maʼam. Some years ago he was taken with a pining sickness, no one knew what ailded him, but he wasted and wasted away till the half of him wasn't in it, and you'd think a gooseberry skin would make him an umbrella, and at last he grew so wake that he kept the bed entirely. Well! one day he was lying this way and all his people were in the house, and they began saying it wasn't himself at all at all that was there, but something unlucky (the saints between us and harm!) in his form. One said it, and another said it, till at last his brothers agreed to hate a shovel red hot and put him on it, the way they'd frighten off the thing that was in the bed, and get their own back agin. The very minnit Paddy, or whatsomever was in his shape, heard that, up out of bed with him, and through the door, and over the mountains like a shot. There was one of his brothers, the fastest runner in the whole counthry, he could keep up with the hounds at full cry, and off he set afther him, but the never a bit of him could catch him, or keep up to him, and he had to stop. Well! Paddy's friends kept going still, and towards evening what would they see, but himself formest 'em on a rock; and whin they came up-"Oh!" says he, “here I am safe and sound. I was in the other world, and I could never come back till you frightened away that thing in my shape."

'Of course they were all in great joy, and took him home; and thin he tould them the most wonderful things about the other world, and how he seen God and heaven and hell. Jack,' said my friend, 'did he see Purgatory at all?'' Indeed, Sir, I did'nt hear that, but any way he's no imposer, for he doesn't take any money, and he gives the best of good advice about sin. See now, if he was walking this road, and to hear a man

cursing and swearing, he'd jump into the river and swim to the other side, sooner nor listen to him.'

'He need not go to the other world to learn that,' the word of God tells us the sin of

said swearing.'

6 friend; my

That's thrue, Sir; but still Paddy Leary is a good adviser.''We have a better adviser, Jack, than Paddy Leary, and we need not go to him to hear of the other world, when God himself has told us in His Book all we can learn about it. Would not you like, Jack, to know what is in the Bible ?'-'I can't read, your honour.'-' But your children can; and if you will come to me, I will give you the Testament both in English and Irish; and do you make them read it for you in the evening.' Jack promised to do so, but it was in a doubtful and reluctant manner, and I greatly fear he had not much intention of keeping his word. Не wished us good evening, and passed on 'That man,' said my friend,'believes that wild tale, as firmly as I do the Bible, and he would have told us more particulars, but he evidently feared we were laughing at him.'

None but those who have witnessed it, can believe how strong and deep-rooted are the superstitions of even the better orders of the peasantry : legends, debasing to man, and dishonouring to God, are received by the people, and confirmed by priestly authority. As an instance. In the locality to which I have alluded, St. Fin Barr resided about twelve hundred years since. He was the first bishop of Cork, and founded the Cathedral in that city. Tradition states him to have been a holy and devout man, and he retired to the wilds, leading a life of quiet seclusion. There is now overhanging the side of one of the mountains, a singular flat rock, having two cavities in the upper surface: these are said to

have been formed by the knees of St. Fin Barr, who, when he was tired of the valley, used to ascend here to pray, and never failed to obtain everything he asked for, in this favoured spot. The woman who related this to a clergyman in the neighbourhood, said she was quite certain of its truth, for the priest had assured her it was written in the Bible! Mr. asked her to

repeat what she had said, thinking he must have misunderstood her, and she again said "Yes, indeed, Father J. has it written in his big Bible at home!"

This is but a trifling example of the falsehoods which our poor imaginative countrymen are taught to receive as truth; and thus shamelessly do the Romish priests "make the word of God of none effect through their tradition." Popery loves and makes a lie-it debases and enchains both reason and affection, mind and soul; yet is it by our rulers, so to speak, stereotyped in the land. They commenced their educational plans by a negative suppression of truth, they now proceed to a positive diffusion of error. In bitterness of soul we would ask-Must our green valleys, where no venomous reptile may lurk, be overspread with moral poisonand while our mountain breezes blow fresh and health

giving, must the immortal spirit inhale a vapour worse than the Maremma's tainted air?

M. A. H.