fifty perches, the one-third of them were sprawling a-top of one-another on the road. As for the women, they went down right and left-sometimes bringing the horsemen with them; and many of the boys getting black eyes and bloody noses on the stones. Some of them, being half blind with the motion and the whiskey, turned off the wrong way, and galloped on, thinking they had completely distanced the crowd; and it was'nt until they had cooled a bit that they found out their mistake." "I suppose," said Andy Morrow, "you had a famous dinner, Shane." "'Tis you that may say that, Mr. Morrow," replied Shane: "but the house, you see, wasn't able to hould one half of us; so there was a dozen or two tables borrowed from the neighbours, and laid one after another in two rows, on the green, beside the river that ran along the garden hedge, sidy by sidy. At one end Father Corrigan sat, with Mary and myself, and Father James at the other. There were three five-gallon kegs of whiskey, and I ordered my brother to take charge of them, and there he sat beside them, and filled the bottles as they were wanted, bekase if he had left that job to strangers, many a spalpeen there would make away with lots of it. Mavrone, such a sight as the dinner was! I did'nt lay my eye on the fellow of it since, sure enough, and I'm now an ould man, though I was then a young man. Why there was a pudding boiled in the end of a sack, and troth it was a thumper, only for the straws-for you see, when they were making it, they had to draw long straws acrass in order to keep it from falling asunder; a fine plan it is too. Jack McKenna, the carpenther, carved it with a hand-saw, and if he did'nt curse the same straws, I'm not here. Draw them out, Jack,' said Father Corrigan- draw them out. It's asy known, Jack, you never ate a polite dinner, you poor awkward spalpeen, or you'd have pulled out the straws the first thing you did, man alive.' Such lashings of corned beef, and rounds of beef, and legs of mutton, and baconturkeys and geese, and barn-door fowls, young and fat. They may talk as they will, but commend me to a piece of good ould bacon, ate with strong crock butther, and phaties, and cabbage. Sure enough, they leathered away at every thing, but this and the pudding were the favorites. Father Corrigan gave up the carving in less than no time, for it would take half a day to serve them all. After helping himself, he set my uncle to it, and maybe he did'nt slash away right and left. There was half-a-dozen gorsoons carrying about the beer in cans, with froth upon it like barm-but that was beer in arnest. "When the dinner was over, you would think there was as much left as would sarve a regiment; and sure enough, a right hungry ragged regiment was there to take care of it, though, to tell the truth, there was as much taken into Finigan's, as would be sure to give us all a rousing supper. Why, there was such a troop of beggars-men, women, and childher, sitting over on the sunny side of the ditch, as would make short work of the dinner had they got it. Along with Father Corrigan and me, was my father and mother, and Mary's parents; my uncle, cousins, and nearest relations on both sides. Oh, it's Father Corrigan, God rest his sowl, he's now in glory, and so he was then, also-how he did crow and laugh! Well, Matthew Finigan,' says he, I can't say but I'm happy that your Coleen bawn here has lit upon a husband that's no discredit to the family-and it is herself did'nt drive her pigs to a bad market,' says he. Why, in troth, Father, avourneen,' says my mother-in-law, they'd be hard to plase that couldn't be satisfied with them she got; not saying but she had her pick and choice of many a good offer, and might have got richer matches; but Shane Fadh M.Cawell, although you're sitting there, beside my daughter, I'm prouder to see you on my own flure, the husband of my child, nor if she'd got a man with four times you're substance. "By this time the company was hard and fast at the punch, the songs, and the dancing. The dinner had been cleared off, and the beggars and shulers were clawing and scoulding one another about the divide. The decentest of us went into the house for a while, taking the fiddler with us, and the rest staid on the green to dance, where they were soon joined by lots of the country people, so that in a short time there was a large number entirely. After sitting for some time within, Mary and I began, you may be sure, to get unasy, sitting palavering among a parcel of ould sober folks; so, at last, out we slipped, and the few other dacent young people that were with us, to join the dance and shake our toe along with the rest of them. When we made our appearance the flure was instantly cleared for us, and then she and I danced the Humours of Glin. "Well, it's no matter-it's all past now, and she lies low; but I may say it wasn't very often danced in better style since, I'd wager. Lord bless us what a drame the world is! The darling of my heart you war, avourneen machree:› I think I see her with the modest smile upon her face, straight, and fair, and beautiful, and-hem—and when the dance was over, how she stood leaning upon me, and my heart within melting to her, and the look she'd give into my eyes and my heart, too, as much as to say, this is the happy day with me; and the blush still would fly acrass her face, when I'd press her unknownst to the by-standers, against my beating heart. A suilish machree, she is now gone from me-lies low, and it all appears like a drame to me; but hem-God's will be done!-sure she's happy!-och, och! Many a shake hands did I get from the neighbours' sons, wishing me joy-and I'm sure I couldn't do less than thrate them to a glass, you know; and 'twas the same way with Mary: many a neighbour's daughter, that she did'nt do more nor know by eye-sight, may-be, would come up and wish her happiness in the same manner, and she would say to me, Shane avourneen, that's such a man's daughter-they're dacent friendly people, and we can't do less nor give her a glass.' I, of coorse, would go down and bring them over, after a little pulling-making you see, as if they wouldn't cometo where my brother was handing out the native. "After the clergy went, Mary threw the stocking-all the unmarried folks coming in the dark, to see who it would hit. Bless my sowl, but she was the droll Mary-for what did she do, only put a brogue of her father's into it; and who should it hit on the bare sconce, but Billy Cormick the tailor-who thought he was fairly shot, for it levelled the crathur at once; though that wasn't hard to do, any how. "This was the last ceremony: and Billy was well continted to get the knock, for you all know, whoever the stocking strikes upon is to be married first. After this, my mother and mother-in-law set them to the dancing-and 'twas themselves that kept it up till long after day light the next morning -but first they called me into the next room where Mary was: and-and-so ends my wedding; by the same token that I'm as dry as a stick." IRISH MINSTRELSY. In our second number we gave Mac Cabe's elegy on the death of Carolan, which in the original is as fine an expression of unaffected sorrow as may well be imagined. In this we wish to present "Carolan's lament over the grave of Mac Cabe," which may appear rather startling to the reader. The cause of it was as follows: Mac Cabe and Carolan were warm and attached friends—but Mac Cabe, being somewhat of a humourist, used to exercise his wit occasionally in good humoured sallies upon his sightless friend. One day, after a long absence, Mac Cabe meeting Carolan, disguised his voice, and accosted him as a stranger, insinuating that he came from Mac Cabe's neighbourhood. Whereupon Carolan eagerly inquired if he knew one Charles Mac Cabe, to which the wag rather improperly replied that he had been at his funeral; the news of which so affected our bard, that he broke out into the following strain : CAROLAN'S LAMENT OVER THE GRAVE OF MAC CABE. 1 "Oh! what a baffled visit mine hath been, How long my journey, and how dark my lot! Light of my eyes! lost solace of my mind! THE IRISH. Abu Taleb, the Persian traveller, whose remarks on national characteristics are generally distinguished by no small degree of discrimination, is of opinion that in "bravery and determination, hospitality and prodigality, freedom of speech, and open heartedness, the Irish surpass the English and Scotch, but are deficient in prudence and sound judgment, though nevertheless witty and quick of comprehension." Their great national defect, he allows," is excess in drinking,” of which he furnishes us with the following amusing instance: "One evening that I dined in a large company, we sat down to table at six o'clock. The master of the house immediately commenced asking us to drink wine, and under various pretences replenished our glasses; but perceiving that I was backward in emptying mine, he called for two water glasses, and having filled them with claret, insisted upon my taking one of them. After the table-cloth was removed, he first drank the health of the king, then of the queen; after which he toasted a number of beautiful young ladies with whom I was acquainted, none of which I dared to refuse. Thus the time passed till two o'clock in the morning and we had been sitting for eight hours: he then called to the servants to bring a fresh supply of wine. Although I was so much intoxicated that I could scarcely walk, yet on hearing this order I was so frightened, that I arose and requested permission to retire, He said he was sorry I should think of going away so soon; that he wished I would stay to supper, after which we might have a bottle or two more by ourselves! I have heard from Englishmen, that the Irish after they get drunk at table, quarrel and kill each other in duels; but I must declare that I never saw them guilty of any rudeness, or of the smallest impropriety." His present Majesty, when Duke of Clarence, being on active service in the navy, once put his ship into the Core of Cork; and, as might be expected from a spirit of hospitality which will not suffer even ordinary mortals to escape with impunity, his royal highness was in a few days put almost hors de combat. The Irish wits were nevertheless pleased to say on the occasion, that where he landed, they had only given him the cork, but had he gone to Dublin, they had given him the bottle. GEOLOGY. The meaning of the word geology, or rather the meaning of the science, as every body knows is, an account of the earth, describing its properties, telling the nature of the various substances which are embowelled in it. There is a geological society formed in Dublin, but we are at present ignorant of what it is doing. Now, most plain kind of people, who make no pretensions to scientific knowledge, are scared from the science of geology, on account of the uncouth technicalities with which every thing relative to it is invested. But it is a very interesting science. It leads the mind into the deepest caverns of speculation, as we pause and ponder over the mysterious things which it brings to light. It is also a very young science. We, of the present day, are but beginning our researches into it, and generations must pass away before any certainty is attained upon the many theories which have been propounded by geologists. Some, for instance, have supposed that our world is of immeuse age-that one revolution after another swept away the various creatures which lived upon it and that new and different races succeeded each other in the lease of this our "mother earth." readers will understand what is meant by a revolution, when we tell them that the deluge is counted one-that the destruction by fire which revealed religion tells us awaits the end of the world, is another revolution-and that the chaos which preceded the creation was but the consequence of a revolution which tore up the surface of the earth, and destroyed the creatures which existed before man was created. Now all this is downright speculation, though it must be confessed that the number of strange animals whose fossil remains have been dug up, and which have no analogy to any now existing, is very extraordinary indeed. We pass these speculations by in the mean time. Our The city of Dublin is placed in a flat country, at the distance of about three miles from the sea, and about five miles to the north of a range of mountains, forming the verge of an elevated district which extends from thence for more than thirty miles to the south. This district presents a very instructive field for geological examination. It is varied and interesting in its characters, both in a scientific and commercial point of view. Nor should ordinary readers think that these matters do not concern them. Scotland and England have been vastly aided in their progress, and are kept in their present position by the uses to which they convert the materials of the earth. What would Birmingham, Glasgow, Wolverhampton, Sheffield, or Newcastle be, but for the coal mines and iron ore in the surrounding country? The soul of British manufactures and commerce, and consequently, the prosperity of the empire, hangs upon the employment of these minerals and Ireland might, from the richness of her soil, become a great manufacturing country. We will drop the subject at present, intending to follow it up next week by a wood-cut and description of the GIANT'S CAUSEWAY. EARL OF DESMOND. The castle of Mogeely, in Ireland, two miles from Tallow, was a principal seat of the Desmond family. At this castle resided Thomas, the great Earl of Desmond, who had a favorite steward that often took great liberties with his lord; and by his permission, tyrannized over the earl's tenants equally with his master. The steward unknown to the earl, gave an invitation in his lord's name to a great number of the chiefs of Munster, with their followers, to come and spend a month at this castle. The invitation was accepted, and crowds of gentlemen flocked in, to the great surprise of Desmond, who began to be alarmed lest sufficient provisions should not be found for such a number of guests. They had not staid many days, when provisions in reality began to fail; and at last the earl's domestics informed him, that they could not furnish out a dinner for the next day. The earl knew not what to do, for his pride could not brook to let his guests know any thing of the matter; besides, his favorite steward, who used to help him in such difficulties, was absent. At length he thought of a stratagem to save his credit; and inviting all his company to hunt next morning, ordered his servants to set fire to the castle as soon as they were gone, and pretend it was done by accident. The earl and his company hunted all the forenoon; and from the rising grounds he every moment expected with a heavy heart to see Mogeely in flames. At length, about dinner time, to his great surprise, his favourite steward arrived, mounted upon a fresh horse. The earl threatened him severely for being so long absent at such a juncture. The steward told him, he had arrived just in time enough at the castle, to prevent his orders from being executed; and farther, that he had brought a large supply of corn and cattle, sufficient to subsist him and his company for some months. This news not a little rejoiced the earl, who returned with his guests to the castle, where they found sufficient plenty of every thing they wanted. Our readers, perhaps, may be apt, in the words of an Irish tourist, to exclaim, when they see our wood-cut-" this Causeway, that every tourist has trampled on, that has been sketched, etched, and lithographed, described by antiquarians, geologists and poets, system-builders and book makers, and what not"-why show us and tell us what every body knows? In lately travelling from Dublin to Belfast, we happened to enjoy, as companions, a "traveller" for a Manchester firm, and a rough, ruddy-faced farmer from the black north. The conversation turned on the Causeway. "Oh!" exclaimed the "Rider" for Messrs. Twist, Bobbin, Bale, and Co. "I was there last Spring. I just looked at it, on my way from Coleraine to Ballycastle-never was so disappointed in life, 'pon honor-terrible cold dreary coast-wind from the northeast enough to cut me in two-dreadful hungry place, I assure you, gentlemen-not a morsel to satisfy the cravings of nature-not being a geologist, saw nothing to gratify my curiosity, and can't, for the life of me, conceive why people should go to stare at ugly promontories, jutting out into the sea, and that ere sea is troublesome enough, I daresay, when the wind is high--not even a tree to shelter the poor goats that were glad to hide themselves under basaltic rocks and frowning precipices-Irishmen should come and see our Giant's Causeway, the magnificent Railway-that's a stupendous work, gentlemen-it goes between Liverpool and Manchester, and facilitates prodigiously the transaction of business -but that useless stupid affair-ha! ha! ha!" The wrath of the man of Antrim was aroused. Englishmen," said he to the dealer in soft goods, " are all for business and the making of money. Why, man alive, if a dacent place that I know about, is paved with goold, some of yees would be after getting a pickaxe to pocket the paving stones! Did'nt ould Fin Mc Coul all as one as make that Causeway for the honour and glory of Ireland? And what's the use o' talking about your dirty bit o' a Railway? Sure, arn't they going to have one from Dublin to Dunleary? We'll bate the conceit out o' yees, by and bye!" Mr. Trussellbags adjusted his neckloth, and with a knowing wink to me rejoined, "And pray, my good fellow, for what purpose did this Fin Mc Coul make the Causeway? Perhaps you can tell us." "With all my heart. You see, Sir, a big Scotch giant, one Benandonner, used to brag that he would lick Fin Mc Coul any day. And he used to go over the Highlands, crowing like a cock on its own dunghill, that all he wanted was a fair field and no favour. So, by my souks, Fin Mc Coul went to the King of Ireland-ould Cormac may'be ye've heerd o' him--there was no grand jury presentments in them days--and he says to his majesty, says he, I want to let Benandonner come over to Ireland widout wetting the sole o' his shoe, and if I don't lather him as well as ever he was lathered in his life, its not myself that's in it! So Fin Mc Coul got lave to build the Causeway, and sure he did, all the road clane and nate, to Scotland-and Benandonner came over wid his broad sword and his kilt, and right glad he was to get a dacent excuse for laving his own country. He was bate, of coorse, though he stuck up like a Trojan; and then he settled in the place, and became obedient to King Cormac, and got a purty dacent girl to his wife; and they say that the great earls of Antrim are descended from them." "Well, now, but what became of the bridge? We just see an abutment, if I may so express myself, of it at Bengore, and I am told that at Staffa, a prodigious way across the sea, another abutment may be seen--but the bridge, what became of the bridge ?" "Is it the bridge your after spaking about? Sure, that's neither your concarn nor mine: but I'll tell you a bit o' a secret, Mr. Englishman---when you are travelling through Ireland, just keep your tongue in your cheek, and don't be after sneering at what you see, and it will be all the better for ye!" Our readers will perhaps have no objection to drop the Englishman leaving him to chew the cud with the last ob servation. The vast collection of basaltic pillars, termed the Giants' Causeway, is situated in the vicinity of Ballimoney, County of Antrim. The principal, or grand causeway, (there being several less considerable and scattered fragments of a similar nature) consists of an irregular arrangement of many hundred thousands of columns, formed of a dark rock, nearly as hard as marble. The greater part of them are of a pentagon figure, but so closely compacted together, that though the pillars are perfectly distinct, the very water which falls upon them will scarcely penetrate between. There are some of the pillars which have six, seven, and a few have eight sides; a few, also have four, but only one has been found with three. Not one will be found to correspond exactly with the other, having sides and angles of the same dimensions; while at the same time, the sum of the angles of any one of them are found to be equal to four right angles-the sides of one corresponding exactly to those of the others which lie next to it, although otherwise differing completely in size and form. Each pillar is formed of several distinct joints, closely articulated into each other, the convex end of the one closely fitting into the concave of the next-sometimes the concavity, sometimes the convexity being uppermost. This is a very singular circumstance. In the entire Causeway it is computed there are from 30,000 to 40,000 pillars the tallest measuring about thirty-three feet. Among other wonders, there is also the Giant's Well, a spring of pure fresh water forcing its way up between the joints of two of the columns-the Giant's Chair, the Giant's Bagpipes, the Giant's Theatre, and the Giant's Organ, the latter a beautiful colonnade of pillars, 120 feet long-so called from the resemblance it seems to have to the pipes of an organ. About two miles from the Causeway is Dunluce Castle, one of the finest ruins to be met with in Ireland. For a great many particulars connected with this remarkable place and remarkable coast, we must refer such of our readers as are anxious about it, and have more than a penny in their pocket, to the Northern Tourist;" a valuable work published by Messrs. Curry and Co. and conclude our sketch with a condensed extract from a visit to the Causeway by the author of "Sketches in the North and South of Ireland." He must, "It was as fine a morning as ever fell from heaven when we landed at Dunluce. not a cloud in the sky, not a wave on the water; the brown basaltic rock, with the towers of the ancient fortress that capped and covered it; all its grey bastions and pointed gables lay pictured on the incumbent mirror of the ocean every thing was reposing-every thing was still, and nothing was heard but the flash of our oars, and nothing but the song of Alick M Mullen, our guide, to break the silence of the sea. We rowed round this peninsular fortress, and then entered the fine cavern that so curiously perforates the rock, and opens its dark arch to admit our boat. indeed, have a mind cased up in all the common-place of dull existence, who would not, while within this cavern and under this fortress, enter into the associations connected with the scene; who could not hold communings with the " 'genius loci." Fancy, I know, called up for me the war-boats and the foemen, who either issued from, or took shelter in this sea-cave-I imagined, as the tide was growling amidst the far recesses, that I heard the moanings of chained captives, and the huge rocks around must be bales of plunder landed and lodged here and I took an interest, and supposed myself a sharer in the triumphs of the fortunate, and the helplessness of the captive, while suffering under the misery that bold bad men inflicted in troubled times. Landing in this cavern, we passed up through its land side entrance towards the ruin; the day had become exceedingly warm, and going forth from the coolness of the cave into the sultry atmosphere, we felt doubly the force of the sun's power: the sea-birds had retreated to their distant rocks-the goats were panting under the shaded ledges of the cliffs-the rooks and choughs, with open beaks and drooping wings, were scattered over the downs, from whose surface the air arose with a quivering undulating motion; we were all glad, for a time, to retire to where, under the shade of the projecting cliff, a clear cold spring offered its refreshing waters." Passing by some capital legends and anecdotes, connected with Dunluce Castle, but which we may give again, we will take up our author at the Causeway. "We had now arrived at the promontories of the Causeway. Port Coan, Port na Spania, Pleaskin, and Bengore, all stood out before us, arresting our admiration and attention I have certainly seen caves much more capacious, and promontories much grander than Pleaskin or Bengore; but beyond a doubt, Pleaskin is the prettiest thing in nature in the way of a promontory; it looks as if it was painted for effect, its general form so beautiful-its storied pillars, tier over tier so architecturally graceful—its curious and varied stratifications supporting the columnar ranges; here the dark brown amorphos basalt, there the red ochre, and below that again the slender but distinct black lines of the wood-coal, and all the ledges of its different stratifications tastefully variegated, by the hand of vegetable nature, with grasses, and ferns, and rock-plants. I certainly could form in my imagination some conception of what the platform, specially called the Giant's Causeway, was; and think a picture or print may convey a very fair representation of what it is; conceive a pavement of pillars set together, just like the comb of a bee-hive, or rather that of a wasp's nest. But nothing I have ever seen, I think, so much exceeded my expectation for very beauty as the promontory of Pleaskin. "Rowing along towards the Causeway, we noticed, as we slowly sailed along, whin-dykes, and pillars, and massive basalts. The whin-dykes, as geologists call those perpendicular walls that separate the stratifications on either side protrude to form the respective promontories of this line of coast, and, where they meet the sea, present many curious forms here resembling a battered castle, there a stack of chimneys, and here again the head and hat of a man, with a large hooked nose and wide mouth, the ocherous rock giving him withal a red face, very like the later busts of George the Third. As we passed along, it struck me that the kelp fires greatly added to the interest of the picture-the smoke wreathing up from a hundred places on this stilly day, and in pillared beauty endeavouring to rival the basaltic columns around. We were shown women ascending an almost perpendicular path, towards the top of the cliff, with large loads of kelp on their heads; they looked like mice creeping up the walls of a barn -the toil of the ascent must be enormous. Our guide told of a poor girl who was betrothed to one she loved, and who was likely to make her happy. In order to procure for themselves some little household stuff, and a few conveniences, wherewithal to begin the world, they devoted themselves for a time to avarice, here consecrated by love, so as to be indeed auri SACRA fames. Young William was out at sea in all weathers, and Peggy, though fair and delicate, carried the kelp along that terrible path. One day, just as she had got to the steepest point of the peak, her strength failed her, and down she came, the load to which she was tied hurrying her along-and before she came to the bottom, poor Peggy was a mangled and a lifeless corpse!" REBELLION OF SILKEN THOMAS. GERALD, Lord Deputy, heing, as related in our last number, summoned to give an account of his administration before the Council board of England, left his son to act in his stead; and before he sailed, took occasion to warn the young lord of the arduous nature of the charge committed to his care. The earl's speech to his son is preserved in Holingshed, and is full of good counsel and anxious forewarnings. It would have been well if the father's example had afforded as good a model for imitation, as his parting words. It is of little use for the mother crab to tell its daughter to walk straight, while she herself has all her life moved crooked. In the present instance the recommendation of the old Geraldine to the young lord to be ruled by the advice of his council was not long observed, for the new made Deputy had penetration enough to find that those who were placed as his counsellors, were but his secret foes, and that it was but their policy to lead him into error and extravagance, and then to rejoice over the consequences of his imprudence. The two Allens-the Archbishop, and the Master of the Rolls-were peculiarly his enemies, and their secret animosities soon broke out into open taunts and sarcasms. Allen, the Master of the Rolls, at a castle banquet, and at a moment, when the conversation turned upon the heraldic decorations, observed that the Lord Deputy's supporters, the marmousets or monkeys were in the habit of eating their tails. To which the Geraldine replied, "yes, master Allen, I may have been fed by my tail, but of this I shall take care, that my tail (meaning his council) shall never feed upon me!" On another occasion, the Archbishop pertly complained, in the hearing of Lord Thomas, that it was intolerable for the council to be kept waiting for a boy, which keenly offended the young deputy, and he took care to let the prelate know that he had heard him. In the midst of these jealousies, the enemies of the Geraldine, at the instigation, as is supposed, of the Allens, spread the report that the Earl of Kildare, on his arrival in London, had been committed to the tower, and beheaded. This was communicated to the son, who at once fell into the trap laid for him, and confederating with some Milesian lords then in Dublin, he summoned together all the men at arms he could collect, rode through the city in martial array, crossed the Liffey, and proceeded, boiling with anger, and supported by the shouts of his followers, to St. Mary's Abbey where the Privy Council was at that time sitting, attended by his noisy rabble. Lord Thomas rushed into the chamber, and casting the sword of state on the table, he addressed the council in a speech, part of which is as as follows: "This sword of state is yours, not mine. I received it with an oath-I used it to your benefit-I should stain mine own honour if I turned the same to your annoyance. Now I have need of mine own sword, which I dare trust. As for the common sword, it flattereth me with a painted scabbard, but it hath indeed a pestilent edge, bathed in the Geraldine's blood. Therefore, save yourselves from us as from open enemies. I am none of Henry's Deputies-I am his foe. have more mind to conquer than to govern-to meet him in the field, than to serve him in office." I The irritation of the incensed lord was not assuaged by the speech that archbishop Allen made to stay him from his purpose. The entreaties he made use of were felt to be hollow the tears he was seen to shed were considered to be crocodile's, and the Irish bard was not checked in his ill manners, who, while the prelate was delivering his laboured harangue, sung out his Irish verses in commendation of the bravery, the prowess, and the martial bearing of the Geraldine, whom he dubbed with the title of SILKEN THOMAS, because his numerous horsemen's accoutrements were gorgeously embroidered with silk. Here then we observe a curious and unheard of change in the character of an individual-at one moment Chief Governor of Ireland-at another, a rebel in arms, and for a time a vigorous and successful one too. In vain the privy council sent orders to the city to have Lord Thomas arrested as he passed through the town: the citizens either could not or would not. On the contrary, so great was the success of the rebel, that the whole country was raised in his favour, the city supplies were cut off; it was placed in a state of siege; and the Archbishop and Baron Finglass obliged to shut themselves up in the castle, and stand to their defence. Lord Thomas seems to have left no stone unturned to secure success to his cause. He sent an ambassador to the Pope; another to the King of Spain with a present of hawks and hobbies; and lost no time in invading the territory of the Butlers, who remained faithful to the king; and in overthrowing the Lord Ossory and his adherents; he then returned to Dublin and proffered security and protection to the city, provided they would allow him to besiege the castle; this the citizens, with the concurrence of the constable of the castle, consented to do, but at the same time, to shew their loyalty, and that their hearts were not with the Geraldine, they amply provisioned the fortress, which Lord Thomas resented by encouraging the Tooles and Byrnes to ravage Fingal, the source from whence the city drew its supplies; the castle, then, being about to be besieged, the Archbishop afraid of the success of his bitter foe, got on board of a small vessel at Dames gate, with the hope of escaping to England; but the ship was stranded at Clontarf, and the prelate retiring to Artane, was in the middle of the night dragged out of bed, and, barefooted and almost naked, brought before Lord Thomas, before whom he fell on his knees and besought him for the love of God to shew pity on a Christian and an Archbishop. It is universally supposed that Fitzgerald, moved with compassion, and intending only to have the prelate imprisoned, cried out to the people in Irish, ber owm a buddagh— "Take away the clown, but the attendants wilfully misconstruing their master's words, beat out the bishop's brains, and thus committed as monstrous an act of sacrilege as Irish History records. It was observed that Archbishop Allen, as the perpetrator of sacrilege, deservedly became its victim; and that he who was the ready tool of Henry's spoliation of the monastic establishments in England, met in due recompense his murderous fate; at all events his assassins left a revenge on themselves, for the two actual perpetrators shortly died of most loathsome diseases, and we shall soon see the fate that attended Silken Thomas himself, his father, and all his uncles. The awful excommunication is still extant that was fulminated against these murderers; and the interdict was long held over the unhappy place where the murder was committed. In the meanwhile, Lord Thomas taking advantage of the citizens allowance to besiege the city, proceeded to plant his falcons (a species of cannon) against the castle, and it is likely he would have taken it, had not one of the city aldermen returned from London with a positive order from the king for the city to break faith with Fitzgerald; and to aid the garrison of the castle in driving him off from its walls. In revenge for this, Lord Thomas seized on the children of the chief citizens, who were at school in the country, and declared that he would place them in front of his men, exposed to the fire of the castle artillery. But the citizens, with Roman devotedness, refused any negociation with the insurgent, and prepared not only to defend the king's castle, but their own bulwarks against the common foe. Fitzgerald then attempted after cutting off the supply of water from the city, to besiege the castle on the side of Ship-street; but was driven from his attempt by a wild fire inverted by White, the constable of the fortress which burned all his machines, and caused a fearful conflagration of the thatched and wooden houses that gave him sheltering. He then assaulted the city, by endeavouring to force the Newgate, which stood where Francisstreet now joins Thomas-street. And having with his cannon pierced the gate, and killed some of the citizens inside, he was sanguine of an immediate surrender; but Richard Staunton, the gaoler of Newgate, (for this ancient bulwark was not only a city gate but a prison) seeing through a loophole, one of the gunners levelling his piece, not only fired, and shot him in the head, but he had the hardihood to rush out by the postern and actually strip the fallen foe of his arms and accoutrements. This inspirited the citizens so much that they instantly made a sally, and that with such success, that they forced Fitzgerald to raise the siege, leaving an hundred Gallowglasses slain, and their falcon in the hands of the citizens. Still Lord Thomas was not put down, for with an activity worthy of a better cause, he hastened to fortify all the Geraldine castles, especially Maynooth; he defeated at Clontarf a considerable force that had landed from England; his pirate, as he was called, Captain Rouks, was active and successful in intercepting supplies; and trusting to his friends amongst the gentry and nobility of the pale, and to the strength of his castles, he proceeded to Ulster and Connaught to strengthen his party and to urge into active co-operation O'Neil and OConnor. While absent on this expedition, the new Lord Deputy, Sir William Skeffington, having proclaimed lord Thomas a traitor not only in Dublin, but at the high cross of Drogheda, proceeded to besiege the Geraldine's principal fortress at Maynooth, and planting his battery on the park hill at the north side of the fortress, he summoned it to surrender; to which summons, as mine author has it, "a scoffing and ludibrious answer was returned after the Irish manner;" and therefore the siege went on, but with little success, for what with the bravery and good appointment of the garrison, and the ignorance that then prevailed in the use of artilleryfor though the Lord Deputy, from having been master of the ordnance, was nicknamed the GUNNER, it would appear that he could make no great use in this instance of his guns-therefore in all probability the fortress would have held out until its master returned to raise the siege, were it not for the perfidy of the governor, Christopher Parese, whose name has descended to posterity along with that of Luttrell and Moriarty, because he broke one of the strongest ties that can bind an Irishman, for he was the foster-brother of Lord Thomas-this "white-livered traitor resolved to purchase his own security with his lord's ruin," and therefore sent a letter to the Lord Deputy, signifying that he would betray the castle, on conditions; and here the devil betrayed the betrayer, for in making terms for his purse's-profit, he forgot to include his person's safety. The Lord Deputy readily accepted his offer, and accordingly, the garrison having gained some success in a sally, and being encouraged by the governor in a deep joyous carouse, they became dead drunk; and sunk in liquor and sleep, the ward of the tower was neglected the traitorous signal given, and the English scaled the walls. Captain Holland, being the first to enter, plunged Trish tradition records the name of the former as having betrayed the pass at the siege of Limerick-of the latter as having betrayed the Earl of Desmond." |