one another, and result in impartiality; or at times by stress of circumstances in cases where the mother-cuckoo has difficulty in finding the nest of the species she prefers. Dr. Rey's observations show that out of more than four hundred cuckoos' eggs examined by him,about thirty per cent closely imitated the eggs of the fosterers; twenty-seven per cent resembled those of species freely patronized by cuckoos, but did not resemble those of the actual bird to whom they were entrusted; thirty-five per cent were of a "mixed" type, that is to say, more or less combined the color and markings of eggs of two foster species. Seven and a half per cent bore no relation in color to the eggs of any other birds. According to the above-named naturalist, and there is little doubt that he is correct, each cuckoo prefers, and year after year adheres to, the nests of some one particular species of fosterparent, and will do all she can to find such nests for each of her eggs. At length, however, the physiological moment arrives when the egg must be laid, and if the favorite nest has not been found in advance, the nearest approach to it is utilized.

The period of egg-laying is unusually prolonged in the cuckoo, extending over several weeks, and it seems that as a rule one egg is laid on each alternate day, the number produced in the course of a season being still in doubt, perhaps twenty being the maximum.

There is reason to hope that parental affection has not altogether died out in the cuckoo family, although a great part of it unquestionably has. A few instances are on record of the hen bird remaining in the locality of a nest in which she had placed an egg, and appearing to take some interest in its fate. In addition, a small number of nests containing cuckoos' eggs have sometimes cuckoos' feathers woven into the outsides and bottom of them. It has

been suggested that the cuckoo helps to build the nest with its own feathers, but this is by no means certain. The majority of the cuckoos' eggs hatch in the month of June, and then is enacted the final scene of horror. The young cuckoo, as hideous as anything in the form of a bird can be, just emerged from the shell, with eyes as yet unopened, sets himself in most deliberate and uncanny fashion to oust the rightful occupants of the nest. The history of all parasites forms a perplexing chapter in the economy of the universe, but this surpasses almost everything that is known in its base ingratitude and heartless cruelty. Provided with a special depression in the back, this extraordinary bird works with head and wings to get his foster-brothers and sisters into the spot which seems to have been constructed by Nature for the cuckoo's purposes. The legs, stalwart out of all proportion in so young an animal, are straddled out, the claws grip with firm determination the soft lining of the sides of the nest, the beak is thrust against the floor, the wings are outstretched to prevent the victim rolling sideways back into the nest. The little alien then heaves with all its puny might, and, one by one, the helpless fledglings or the unhatched eggs are hoisted over the edge of their home to die of cold and starvation. To the onlooker the whole proceeding is positively repulsive, so deliberately does the blind little cuckoo set about its cruel task, so admirably adapted is it for the performance of its purpose. Two cuckoos are occasionally hatched in the same nest, and in the tug-of-war that then ensues one of the two necessarily meets his superior.

In conclusion let me give the cuckoo its due. It is to a certain extent a useful bird because it eats with relish large caterpillars bristling with hairs that baffle the more tender palates of other insectivorous birds.

Ireland so full of hallowed memories, so chequered in their

history as the quaint old village of Tallaght, which lies about seven miles south of the General Post Office, Dublin, on the line of the steam-tram that runs to Blessington and Poulaphonca. Of the thousands of pleasure-seekers and others who pass through it from end to end of the year, how few there are who have ever heard of its ancient glory. The most that many know of it is that there was an encounter there on the memorable night of Shrove Tuesday, 1867, between the Fenians and the police; and yet it may be said with truth that Tallaght has a history second to no place in the land. It is

not my intention to give anything like a full account of this historic spot. That work has been already done by competent writers. I intend only to sketch such of the principal events in the history of the place as may

the glories of the past, blended though they were with sorrows, and to see in the present promises of a bright and unclouded future. The first mention made in history of Taimhleacht, or Tallaght, is in the account given in the "Annals of the Four Masters" of the plague that destroyed the Colony of Parthalon. It is as follows: "Nine thousand of Parthalon's people died in one week on SeanMhagh-Ealta-Edair, viz, 5,000 men and 4,000 women; whence is named Taimh

leacht-Mhuintire-Parthalon, now called Tallaght, near Dublin."

The word "Tamh" means an epidemic, or plague; and "Taimhleacht," the "plague monument."

From that period till about the middle of the eighth century, nothing is known about the place. At that time, as we read, there was a monastery in Tallaght, which was rebuilt or enlarged by St. Maelruain, or Maelruan, who was called the "Bright Sun of Ireland," and through whose influence peace and piety reigned throughout the land. He welcomed to his monastery another holy man, St. Aengus, the Culdee, who fled from his cell in County Limerick that he might serve God in the obscurity denied him at home. He managed to conceal his rank and identity for some time, and lived the life of a humble servant till St. Maelruain discovered who he was.

He wrote a metrical poem in Irish, known as the "Festilogium of St. Aengus." He was also author of a history of the Old Testament, in elegant metre; and, in conjunction with St. Maelruain, he composed what is known as the Martyrology of Tallaght, a very ancient manuscript copy of which is preserved in the Burgundian library of Brussels. It has been translated by the late Eugene O'Curry. St. Aengus died somewhere in the County Limerick, whither he returned when he found his end approaching, on Friday, the 11th of March, 824. St. Maelruain had predeceased him on the 7th of July, 792. A "pattern," to which people flocked from all parts, even from the city, was held on that day in the village uninterruptedly for about 1,082 years. In 1873 or 1874, it was discontinued through

the influence of a Dominican Friar on account of the excesses that usually accompanied it. One is inclined to regret the giving up entirely of such an ancient. custom. What a pity that it was not found possible to retain it, purified from its usual abuses!

Amongst the holy men of whom mention is made about the time of St. Maelruain is St. Joseph, Bishop of Tallaght, who died in 795. Not many years

after his death the descendants of Niall, King of Ireland, in the year 805 (as we read in Handcock's "History and Antiquities of Tallaght," to which interesting work I am very much indebted for the materials of this sketch), "having violated the termon, or churchlands, of Tallaght, the monks took the bold step of seizing and retaining the chariothorses of Aedh, the son of Niall, on the eve of the games which were annually celebrated at Taillteun (now Teltown), in the County of Meath. His chariots, therefore, could not run. Aedh-Oirdnidhe for his violation afterwards made a full atonement." Five years after, in 811, the monastery was raided by the Danes.

For a little more than two centuries after that date the Sea-Kings of the North held sway on our eastern seaboard, and Tallaght, which was ruled by a succession of Abbots, suffered like many another seat of piety and learning. May we not picture to our minds generation after generation of holy monks, who during that time prayed for the breaking of the dawn of liberty, and the joy that filled the hearts of the men who were there on Good Friday of 1014, when word was brought them that Brian had routed the Northmen at Clontarf? Perchance they knew of the progress of the fight, and, like Moses, had lifted up their hands and hearts in supplication to the God of battles for the success of the Christian arms.

When peace once more reigned in the land Tallaght, like other religious houses, benefited by the blessed change. More than a century later, in 1179, soon after the English Invasion, Pope Alexander III granted Tallaght, amongst other places, to the See of Dublin. This grant was ratified by Innocent III in 1216. It must have been some time in the thirteenth century that the Canons Regular of St. Augustine took up their residence in the place, and that a very large castle, one of the towers of which it still

standing, was built on the site of the monastic edifice. We read that Alexander de Bicknor rebuilt it in 1324; and that from 1340 to 1821 it was the country residence first of the Catholic, and then of the Protestant Archbishops of Dublin.

George Browne, an Englishman who ruled in the diocese in 1535, became a Protestant, and thenceforth the place was the property of the prelates of that Church till it ceased to be their residence (1821), when at the instance of Dr.

one that was attached to the document excommunicating the Archbishop? Who can tell? Those who are competent to form an opinion on the matter think it is. In 1573, when Adam Loftus was Archbishop, the "Irishry," who, as he saidwriting to the Lord Deputy-"were never more insolent," invaded Tallaght, and killed his nephew and his servants at the very gates of the palace.

A great part of the old castle was pulled down in 1729 by Archbishop John Hoadly, and a mansion built with the

formation next morning to the constable at Tallaght.

Another fact in connection with the place, and of interest to Nationalists, is that the Protestant curate in 1821who was the last to live in the old palace -was tutor to Isaac Butt, the Father of Home Rule. A Major Palmer, inspector of prisons, bought the place from Archbishop Magee in 1822, and demolished the palace lest it should ever become a monastic institution. With part of the materials he built a mansion, which may still be seen at the rear of the new convent. Later on, he disposed of his interest to Mr. (afterwards Sir John) Leutaigne, who lived there for some years, and who had the lower story of the old tower, of which mention has been already made, converted into a chapel. in which Mass was sometimes celebrated, and to which he very kindly admitted the people of the neighborhood. It was

about that time, or a little earlier, in 1829, that the present Protestant church, which stands about eight yards from the site of a former one, was built, partially with the materials of the old church. May we not suppose that the spirits of Aengus and Maelruain and Joseph, and the hosts of other holy men who had dwelt in this once hallowed spot, were yearning for a renewal of the days of old, longing to see the place once more peopled by religious, and to hear the voice of psalmody ascending thence to heaven? And their wishes were at last fulfilled, their hopes realized.

In the August of 1855, close on fifty years ago, there came to the place the white-robed sons of St. Dominic to found a novitiate, and, later on, a house of studies, for the students of their Order. Among them was one but lately ordained, who, years after, was to charm. the English-speaking world by his eloquence the illustrious Father Thomas Burke. They found but few landmarks of the past, few relics of the times that

are gone. Of the old buildings there stood, as there still stands, a tower from which a view of Snowdon may be had on a clear day. It is incorporated in the new convent, part of which was opened on the 13th of September, 1867, and part of which was built only a few years ago. Up and down its stone steps, formerly trodden by the households of successive Archbishops, Catholic and Protestant, do the religious now go many times a day to the church, to chant the same psalms of King David that were chanted in the old church by Saints Maelruain, Aengus, and Joseph, and the countless other Culdees of holy Tallaght.

In the garden close by is what is called the "Friar's Walk." It is planted on each side with elm and yew trees. At the northern end of it is a moat-like eminence called the "Bishop's Seat," and at the other end is a large block of granite having a screw-like hole through the middle. Some think it was the pedestal of the Cross of Tallaght. There is, not far off, lying on the ground, another large stone said to be porphyry, which was found in the fosse that surrounded the castle. It was evidently a holy-water font. One cannot help thinking when looking at it of the thousands of hands, now mouldering in dust, that were reverently placed in it in bygone days, as the worshippers entered the house of God. To the right stands an immense walnut tree, many hundred years old, called "St. Maelruain's Tree," which is said to have been planted by the saint. It is still healthy and bears fruit.

A part of the ruined palace which ran southwards from the tower already mentioned, was remodeled and turned by the Dominicans, when they came to Tallaght, into a temporary chapel in which they ministered to the people till the present beautiful church was consecrated about seventeen years ago, when it was taken down to make room for the new wing of the convent, built upon the site. Once, on a memorable occa