THE

No. 20. VOL. I.

ST. GEORGE'S CHURCH, DUBLIN.

AMONG the various architectural ornaments with which our city has, within the present century, been embellished, one of the proudest and most costly is the parish church of which we annex a representation, and which takes precedence in architectural grandeur of all the structures of the kind yet erected. But, though excellent in its execution, and imposing in its general effect, it is deficient in that purity of architectural adaptation, which we should naturally expect in so costly an edifice, in as much as it vainly endeavours to unite discordant styles, and to blend forms not susceptible of harmonious or legitimate combination. It is a difficult, if not an impossible thing to connect the

NOVEMBER 10, 1832.

classic forms of the Greek orders, with the steeple and spire of the middle ages, and should perhaps never be attempted. At all events in this instance we see an example of its unsuccessfulness. The forms are abrupt and unexpected; the simplicity of one part is destroyed by the richness of another, and the whole wants unity and harmony of design.

These remarks are made solely from an anxious desire to see the principles of correct taste more generally dif fused in Ireland than they are at present.

The

The situation of St. George's Church is judicious, being seen from three spacious streets, and placed on nearly the most elevated ground within the circumference of the city. In its exterior dimensions, the body of the church is 92 feet in front, and 84 in depth, to which there is in the rere a projection of 22 feet by 40, which contains a vestry-room and school. principal front towards Hardwicke-street consists of a portico of four fluted Ionic columns 3 feet in diameter, supporting an entablature and pediment, on the frieze of which there is a Greek inscription, (ΔΟΞΑ ΕΝ ΥΨΙΣΤΟΙΣ ΘΕΩ) signifying Glory to God in the highest."

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The portico rests on a landing, accessible by a flight of steps, the entire breadth of itself, viz.: 42 feet, and the projection of the portico is 15 feet.

The body of the church has also three other architectural fronts, but of inferior dignity; and being without a churchyard, the rectangle in which the church stands is surrounded by a square of small neat houses, affording an uninterrupted view of each front, without the unpleasant prospect of a cemetery so usual in Ireland.

There are five entrances, one in front, beneath the portico, which conducts into the vestibule below the steeple, and two in each side.

The steeple is placed immediately over the portico, and consists of four stories richly decorated, and surmounted with a spire in the gothie style, finished with a ball and cross on its pinnacle. Its total height from the pavement is 200 feet.

The interior dimensions of the church are 84 feet by 60. The lower story is encompassed by a passage or corridor, on the side walls of which the floor of the gallery rests, and projecting beyond the corridor, has the appearance of being without any support except from projecting timbers or, as they are technically called, cantalevers, in the wall. pulpit, reading desk, and communion table, are in a recess in the east end of the church, and the organ is placed in the gallery opposite.

The

St. George's Church, Dublin.

To the Editor of THE DUBLIN PENNY JOURNAL.

Sir,-In your Journal of last Saturday week, you gave "Cobbett's method of keeping a cow upon a quarter of an acre of land;" I am about to present to you, what certainly does not profess to teach so close economy, but may, notwithstanding, prove more practicable and useful to some of your Irish readers, namely, a plan for keeping a cow and a pig on an acre." It has a claim on your attention as being designed by a lady of high rank, by whom it was written, for the benefit of the farmers poorer of our country. I could wish to give you her name, but from the manner in which this paper, which I now send you, came into my hands, I do not feel at liberty to do so; persons of real worth, however, do not desire ostentatious display; it is more their habit to

"Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame."

My feeble tribute of praise could add nothing to the exceeding great reward she, no doubt, has in the sunshine of her breast, arising from the consciousness of having laboured and not unsuccessfully to do good; suffice it to say that she and her noble husband afford a splendid and truly valuable example of what persons in the upper walks of life can do in this much neglected country, for the amelioration of a peasantry which, when the trial is fairly and judiciously made, are found to be as deserving and industrious as any on the face of the globe.

O'G.

How to keep a Cow and Pig on an Acre of Land.

1. Never let the cow out of the cow-house. 2. Carry her food and water to her.

3. Do not keep one foot of land in pasture. 4. Dig your land instead of ploughing it.

5. Never throw away any thing that can be turned into manure.

5. Keep your land well weeded, and collect a large dunghill.

:

A small cow, which is best for a cottager, will eat from 70 to 80lbs. of good moist food, of the following kinds in a day lucerne (or clover), vetches, rape, and the leaves of yellow beet, (or mangel wurzel) from the beginning of spring to the end of autumn, and the roots of mangel wurzel (or sugar beet), Swedish turnips, potatoes, and straw from the end of autumn till the beginning of spring. If the cow be curried once a day, it will increase the quantity of milk.

To procure the abovementioned crops, you must have plenty of manure, and this is the way to manage it: all the drains from the cow-shed, the privy, and the pig-stye must go into the cess-pool, which should be water-tight and covered; a cask sunk at the mouth of the drain will answer the purpose; every thing you can collect in the house should be thrown in, soap-suds, potatoe-water, dish-wash, &c. The fluid taken out with a scoop, is excellent for watering the land, and it may also be used in this way throw up some earth in a heap, and water it from time to time, and it will become very rich manure. The more solid manure should be kept in a pit, as it is taken from the cow-shed and pig-stye, weeds and whatever you can collect should be added. But the sooner fresh manure is dug into the ground, the farther it will go. When the liquid is used for watering ground, it should be applied when the surface is moist from rain or dew. In England the saying is, "a large dunghill, a large crop ;" and in Scotland, "the midden is the mither o' the meal kist."

Rushes, potato-stalks, and weeds, before they seed, should be industriously collected for the cow's litter.

LUCERNE (or clover) requires a good and deep soil. The ground for it should be well dug, two spits deep, and the manure deposited at one spit deep. It must be sown very early in the spring, in drills 9 inches apart. The quantity of seed 14oz. to the perch. It must be kept carefully free from weeds, and watered with the liquid manure from time to time, ashes also is a good manure for it. It sometimes admits of four cuttings in the summer, and, with attention to the foregoing rules, will continue

productive for ten or twelve years; it will not do well upon boggy land.

SWEDISH TURNIPS.-Prepare the land as if for drilling potatoes, upon the drills about 20 inches distant, the deeper the better, fill them with manure, cover them with 4 or 5 inches of earth, make the top smooth and level, then with a dibble make holes 2 inches in depth, and about 12 inches apart, and drop a seed into every hole. Keep them free from weeds-lb. of seed will sow 20 perches. The time for sowing is in May.

MANGEL WURZEL, OR YELLOW BEET.-The ground to be prepared the same way as for Swedish turnips, from the 20th to the end of April, is the best time for sowing half a pound of seed will sow 20 perches. In September, pull the leaves for the cow, these will last till you take up and store the roots.

RAPE.-Raise the plants on a seed bed and sow in July or August. When the oats are off the ground, and it is fresh dug over, transplant the young plants in rows six inches apart, about the end of October, or beginning of November. Water with the liquid manure on the side of the plants and not on the leaves, It will be the earliest green food in spring.

RED CLOVER will afford a large quantity of green food as well as hay from ten square perches. It will last from two to three years on the same ground; 14oz. of seed is sufficient for a perch. The ground should be well and deeply dug, and made as fine as possible. The time of sowing from February to April. The seed put in half an inch deep in clayey soils, and one inch on loose soils; a coat of manure should be put on in spring and autumn. It may be cut two or three times in the season, and should not be given to the cow till it has been cut some hours, or she would be in danger of bursting.

Some dry food should be given with the roots. The daily supply for a cow for the winter, about 180 days, may be as follows: 30lbs. of mangel wurzel (or yellow beet), 30lbs. of Swedish turnips, 14lbs. of straw or hay.

THINK of to-morrow!"-that is what no Irish peasant ever did yet, with a view of providing for it: at least no one I have had an opportunity of being acquainted with. He will think of any thing-of every thing but that.* There is Larry Moore, for example-who, that has ever visited my own pastoral village of Bannow, is unacquainted with Larry, the Bannow boatman--the invaluable Larry-who, tipsy or sober, asleep or awake, rows his boat with undeviating power and precision ?— He, alas! is a strong proof of the truth of my observation. Look at him on a fine sunny day, in June. The cliffs that skirt the shore where his boat is moored are crowned with wild furze; while, here and there, a tuft of white or yellow broom, sprouting a little above the blueish green of its prickly neighbour, waves its blossoms, and flings its fragrance to the passing breeze. Down to the very edge of the rippling waves is almost one unbroken bed of purple thyme, glowing and beautiful; and there Larry's goat, with her two sportive kids-sly, cunning rogues!— find rich pasture—now nibbling the broom-blossoms, now sporting amid the furze, and making the scenery re-echo with their musical bleating. The little island opposite, Larry considers his own particular property; not that a single sod of its bright greenery belongs to him-but, to use his own words, "sure it's all as one as my own-don't I see it-don't I walk upon it—and the very water that it's set in is my own; for sorra a one can put foot on it widout me and the coble, (boat) that have been hand and glove as good as forty years." But look, I pray you, upon Larry: there he lies, stretched in the sun-light, at full length, on the firm sand, like a man-porpoise-sometimes on his back -then slowly turning on his side-but his most usual attitude is a sort of reclining position against that flat grey stone, just at high-water mark; he selects it as his constant resting-place, because (again to use his own words) "the tide, bad cess to it! was apt to come fast in upon a body, and there was a dale of throuble in moving; but even if one chanced to fall asleep, sorra a morsel of harm the salt water could do ye on the grey stone, where a living merwoman sat every new-year's night combing her black hair, and making beautiful music to the wild waves, who, consequently, trated her seat wid grate respict-why not?" There, then is Larry-his chest leaning on the mermaid's stone, as we call it-his long bare legs stretched out behind, kicking, occasionally, as a gad-fly or merry-hopper skips about, what he naturally considers lawful prey-his lower garments have evidently once been trowsers-blue trowsers; but as Larry, when in motion, is amphibious, they have experienced the decaying effects of salt water, and now only descend to the knee, where they terminate in unequal fringes. Indeed, his frieze jacket is no great things, being much rubbed at the elbows-and no wonder; for Larry when awake, is ever employed, either in pelting the sea-gulls (who to confess the truth, treat him with very little respect,) rowing his boat, or watching the circles which the large and small pebbles he throws in form on the surface of the calm waters, and as Larry, of course, rests his arm while he performs the above named exploits, the sleeves must wear, for frieze is not "impenetrable stuff." His hat is a natural curiosity, composed of sun-burned straw, banded by a mishapen sea ribbon, and garnished by "delisk," red and green, his cutty pipe stuck through a slit in the brim, which bends it directly over the left eye, and keeps it "quite handy widout any trouble." His bushy reddish hair persists in obstinately pushing its way out of every hole in his extraordinary hat, or clusters strangely over his Herculean shoulders, and a low-furrowed brow, very unpromising in the eye of a phrenologist :-in truth, Larry has somewhat of a dogged expression of countenance, which is relieved, at times, by the humorous twinkling of his little grey eyes, pretty much in the manner that a star

We cannot concur in these remarks of our fair and talented country. woman. That there are many such characters to be found in Ireland as the Bannow boatman we are ready to admit, but we will by no means allow that such is the character of our peasantry generally.—ED.

"No, thank ye, Larry ;-but there's a silver sixpence for good luck."

Ough! God's blessing be about ye!-I said so to my woman this morning, and she bothering the sow out o' me for money, as if I could make myself into silver, let alone brass-asy, says I, what trouble ye takes !-sure we had a good dinner yesterday; and more by tokens, the grawls were so plased wid the mate-the craturs!sorra' a morsel o' prattee they'd put into their mouths ;and we'll have as good a one to-day."

"The ferry is absolutely filled with fish, Larry,-if you would only take the trouble to catch it!”

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"Is it fish? Ough! Sorra fancy I have for fastingmate-besides, it's mighty watery, and a dale of trouble to catch. A grate baste of a cod lept into my boat yesterday, and I lying just here, and the boat close up : thought it would ha' sted asy while I hallooed to Tom, who was near breaking his neck after the samphire for the quality, the gomersal!-but, my jewil! it was whip and away wid it all in a minit-back to the water.-Small loss!"

"But, Larry, it would have made an excellent dinner." “Sure I'm after telling y'er ladyship that we had a rale mate dinner by good luck yesterday."

"But to-day, by your own confession, you had nothing." "Sure you've just given me sixpence." "But suppose I had not!"

"Where's the good of thinking of that, now ?"

“Oh, Larry, I'm afraid you never think of to-morrow!” · "There's not a man in the whole parish of Bannow thinks more of it nor I do," responded Larry, raising himself up; "and to prove it to ye, madam dear, we'll have a wet night-I see the sign of it, for all the sun's so bright, both in the air and the water."

"Then, Larry, take my advice; go home and mend the great hole that is in the thatch of your cabin."

"Is it the hole?-where's the good of losing time about it now, when the weather's so fine?"

"But when the rain comes?"

"Lord bless ye, my lady! sure I can't hinder the rain! -and sure it's fitter for me to stand under the roof in a dry spot, than to go out in the teams to stop up a taste of a hole. Sorra a drop comes through it in dry weather." Larry, you truly need not waste so much time; it is ten chances to one if you get a single fare to day ;-and here you stay doing nothing. You might usefully employ yourself by a little foresight."

"Would ye have me desert my trust? Sure I must mind the boat. But, God bless ye, ma'am darlint! don't be so hard intirely upon me; for I get a dale o' blame I don't by no manner of means desarve. My wife turns at me as wicked as a weazel, becase I gave my consint to our Nancy's marrying Matty Quough; and she says they were bad to come together on account that they had'nt enough to pay the priest; and the upshot of the matter is, that the girl and a grandchild is come back upon us; and the husband is off-God knows where."

I'm sorry to hear that, Larry; but your son James, by this time must be able to assist you."

"There it is again, my lady! James was never very bright-and his mother was always at him, plaguing his life out to go to Mister Ben's school, and saying a dale about the time to come; but I didn't care to bother the cratur, and I'm sorry to say he's turned out rather obstinate and even the priest says it's becase I never think of to-morrow."

"I am glad to find the priest is of my opinion: but tell fatted the pig Mr. Herriot gave you ?"

me, have

you

But the more you earn the better, Larry."

"Sure I've enough for to-day."

"But not for to-morrow, Larry."

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True, for ye, ma'am dear; though people takes a dale o' trouble, I'm thinking, when they've full and plenty at the same time; and I don't like bothering about it then, and it'll be all the same in a hundred years. Sure, I see ye plain enough, Master Rashleigh. God help me! I broke the oar yesterday, and never thought to get it mended; and my head's splitting open with the pain-I took a drop too much last night, and that makes me fit for nothing

"On the morrow, Larry."

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Faith! ma'am dear, you're too bad. Oh, dear! If I had the sense to set the lobster-pots last night, what a power I'd ha' caught!-they're dancing the hays merrily down there, the cowardly blackguards! but I did'nt

think

“Of the morrow, Larry!”

By dad, I have it!-I can poke the coble on with this ould pitchfork; there's not much good in it; but never heed-it's the master's, and he's too much the jontleman to mind trifles; though I'm thinking times a'n't as good wid him now as they used to be; for Barney Clarey tould Nelly Parnell, who tould Tom Lavery, who tould it out forenint me and a dale more genteel men who were taking a drop o' comfort at St. Patrick's, as how they bottle the whiskey, and salt the mate at the big house; and if that is'nt a bad sign I don't know what is :-though we may thank the English housekeeper for it, I'm thinking-wid her beaver bonnet and her yellow silk shawl, that my wife (who knows the differ) says, after all, is only calico-cotton."

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What do you mean by bottling the whiskey and salting the meat, Larry?"

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Now, don't be coming over us after that fashion; may-be ye don't know, indeed? Sure the right way, my lady, is to have the whiskey on draught; and then it's so refreshing, of a hot summer's day, to take a hearty swig; -and in winter-by the powers! Ma'am honey, let me just take the liberty of advising you never to desart the whiskey; it'll always keep the could out of y'er heart, and the trouble from y'er eye. Sure the clargy take to it, and lawyers take to it, far before new milk; and his holiness the Pope-God bless him!-to say nothing of the king (who is the first king of hearts we ever had) who drinks nothing but Innishown-which, to my taste, has'nt half the fire of the rale Potteen. It's next to a deadly sin to bottle whiskey in a jontleman's house :-and, as to salting mate!-sure the ancient Irish fashion-the fashion of the good ould times--is just to kill the baste, and thin hang it by the legs in a convanient place; and, to be sure, every one can take a part of what they like best,"

But do you know that the English think of to-morrow, Larry?"

"Ay, the tame negers! that's the way they get rich,

and sniff at the world, my jewil; and they no oulder in it than Henry the Second; for sure, if there had been English before his time, it's long sorry they'd ha' been to let Ireland alone."

“Do you think so, indeed, Larry?"

"I'll prove it to ye, my lady, if ye'll jist wait till I bring over that impudent chap, Rashleigh Jones, who's ever running after the day, as if he had'nt a bit to eat :-there, d'ye see him?-he's dancing mad-he may just as well take it asy: It's such as him give people the feaver. There's that devil of a goat grinning at me; sorra a drop of milk we can get from her, for she won't stand quiet for a body to catch her; and my wife's not able, and I'm not willing, to go capering over the cliffs. Never mind!-sure whiskey

is better nor milk."

At last Larry and his boat are off, by the assistance of the pitchfork, and most certainly he does not hurry. himself; but where is Rashleigh going to? As I live! he has got into Mr. Dorkin's pleasure-boat, that has just turned the corner of the island, and will be at this side before Larry gets to the other. Larry will not easily pardon this encroachment; not because of the money, but because of his privilege. I have heard it rumoured that if Larry does not become more active he will lose his situation; but I cannot believe it: he is, when fairly on the water, the most careful boatman in the county; and permit me to mention, in sotto voce (I would not have it repeated for the world,) that his master could not possibly dismiss him on the charge of heedlessness, because he himself once possessed unencumbered property by field and flood, wooded hills, verdant vales, and puregushing rivers. Those fair heritages are, however, unfortunately, passing into the hands of other proprietors; and the hair of the generous, good-natured landlord has become white, and sorrow has furrowed his brow, long before sixty summers have glowed upon his head. His children, too, do not hold that station in society to which their birth entitles them; and, latterly, he has not been so often on the grand jury, nor at the new Member's dinners. The poor love him as well as ever; but the rich have neglected, in a great degree, his always hospitable board, Rats, it is said, desert a falling house: have nobler ones the same propensity?. Be it as it may, the parish priest. told me, in confidence, that all the change originated in our excellent friend's never thinking of TO-MORROW. Mrs. S. C. Hall,

In our little history of the progress of the Fine Arts in Ireland in a former number, page 84, we made mention of the numerous golden ornaments of a very remote_age which are being constantly discovered, and among others, alluded to the golden Torques or collars. As illustrations of these we now present our readers with two fine examples, lately to be seen in Dublin.

The form of these ornaments, which are of fine gold and excellent workmanship, will be best understood by the engravings. The first is 5 feet 7 inches in length and weighs