cattle, and was now returning homewards. He civilly insisted on my mounting his horse, and without giving me time to reply alighted to help

me on.

"It is fitter I should be walking," said he, “ than you."

I do not know that a good face is always a letter of recommendation-I have ever found that a good coat is.

I asked him what he thought of Ireland.

"Its a heaven of a place," he replied, "but they're the devil of a people.",

I examined him as to this latter opinion, and found he had every where met with kindness and attention. He had heard it from his father, who probably had heard it from his; and in this manner are the characters of nations and indi viduals judged.

I arrived at Banbridge about five o'clock-It consists of one wide street. The streets, indeed, of almost all Irish north-country towns are wide -A proof of the alterations they have undergone, and that successively ravaged, burned, and overturned, the foundations of them as they now are, were laid in times not very remote from our

own.

There is but one inn in this town-a very large one-lately built, and fitted up at the expence of the Marquis of Downshire. His Lordship has

put an old follower of his own into it, and with more liberality to him, than justice to the public, has wire-drawn the road between Banbridge and Hillsborough, from eight to ten miles. To speak more intelligibly, he has substituted English for Irish measurement.

I dined at the inn, and intended afterwards to have walked to an acquaintance's house, about two miles forward on the Dromore road; but the rain, which again came on, prevented me.

I know nothing more wearisome than to be left alone at an inn. Drinking is a bad resource, and, moreover, an expensive one. I sauntered, therefore, to the market house, and entered into conversation with a genteel looking man, who was walking there. A A party of yeomen, drums beating, and colours flying, passed us. They splashed through the wet to quick time, and looked as jaded and dirty as a company in a ball room, when day breaks on them. Though their looks were impaired, their loyalty was i not. At sight of us their music changed to

Croppies lie down"-my new acquaintance smiled-I asked him the reason. He was, it seems, suspected of being a united Irishman in the year 1798, and these loyal gentlemen took this method, he supposed, of rebuking him for his past transgressions. I drank tea with him, and found him an intelligent man, perfectly awakened from the

reveries of republicanism, if he had ever indulged in them, though he complained heartily of the pressure of the times, and the exactions of landlords. On this latter subject I must be permitted to say a word. I am little acquainted with country matters, and therefore my opinion is not entitled to much consideration-but were I to trust to my own observations, I should hesitate very much before I said the Irish northern gentry are bad landlords. I am sure I know many, very many, instances of good ones.

I accompanied him afterwards to a neat little public library, where I found a respectable collec tion of books. Nor did I find food only for the mind. The committee, of which my conductor was a member, after transacting their business, had a slight supper, and a plentiful bowl (jug I should rather say) of punch, and we did not separate until a late hour.

Late as it was, I felt no inclination to sleep, but have continued writing till

The dawning beam

Purples the mountain and the stream.

The hour is as solemn as the scene before me

is an impressive one.

From my little window I look upon a steep and craggy rock, doomed to everlasting barrenness, and listen to the hoarse murmurs of the headlong torrent as it gushes from it. Scenes

of a similar kind are frequent in Ireland; and, gloomy at all times, are more gloomy still, wheri viewed at grey morning or dun evening. To abstract the mind from the local influence of scenery I believe is impossible, and therefore the settled state of the Irish peasant's mind is melancholy, though from the extraordinary sensibility of his nature, he kindles flame, and emits the red and glowing sparks of gaiety from the collision of society.

CHAPTER VII.

Daisy-bank.

I WALKED this morning to the house just mentioned on the Dromore road. The virtuous owner of it died about a week ago. He was Presbyterian minister of the parish, and died universally lamented, as he had lived beloved and respected. The family were in the utmost affliction. I consented without reluctance to spend the day with them; for truly it is said, "It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to the house of feasting"--for that is the end of all men-and the living will lay it to his

heart.

A neighbouring clergyman was of the party. He related a little occurrence which I shall mention here. It marks strongly the change Presbyterians have undergone since the days of Calvin and Seroetus.

He was assisting, a few weeks ago, an acquaintance in administering the sacrament. Two other clergyman were présent likewise. They were at the most solemn part of the ceremony, when a stranger, genteely dressed, but with a long black beard, stalked into the meeting-house, and advanced forwards with a countenance sufficiently indicative of contempt. Some confusion ensued; but he was at length prevailed on to sit down and be silent. He remained tolerably quiet until the service was over. The clergymen and elders then, as is customary, went into the retiring room to take some refreshment. This person followed them. He eat a mouthful of bread, and drank a glass of wine.

"There is some sense said he "taken in this way," but you must permit me to say, there is none in the way you have lately been taking it, as I shall endeavour to prove (pulling a bible out of his pocket) from this book."

"The New Testament is wanting here," said one of the clergymen.-"Iknow ofnoNew Testament," replied the other," though I have met with a bundle of lies and nonsense that goes under that name."