was by this Rotheacht that chariots of four horses were first established in Ireland."-Annals of the Four Masters.

No other notice of this fortress occurs in our annals until the year 994, in which it is stated that it was plundered by the Danes; and so important was the place at that time that an Irish Rann was composed, to hand down the date of its ransacking.

“A. D. 924. Dun Sobhairce was plundered by the Danes of Loch Cuan (Strangford Lake in the county Down), and they slew many persons on this occasion.

"a ceatair ficher jr. gle
Jy naoj z-céd cen tjmdibe
Oro geanair mac dé bj
Co h-organ Oujn Sobajμg).”

"Four and twenty years complete
And nine hundred, without error,

From the nativity of the Son of the living God
To the plundering of Sovarke's Fort."

In latter times we find this castle in the possession of the M'Quillans, or, as the Irish writers call them, Mac Uidhlin, a family that arrived in Ireland among the first English adventurers. Duald M'Firbis says, in his account of English and Irish families, that Mac Uidhlin was descended from an Irish chieftain of the Dalriadan tribe, who emigrated to Wales at an early period, and whose posterity remained there, until some of them returned at the period of the English invasion; and those Iberno- Welshmen, knowing from tradition that they were of the Dalriadan stock, settled in the territory of their ancestors. Whether this be true or false, I dare not venture to assert, but the Annals of the Four Masters, which are full of the exploits of the Mac Uidhlins, never speak of them as of English or foreign extraction.

We find this castle also in the possession of a branch of the O'Kanes, who settled in the county of Antrim about the end of the 13th century, and who were called Clann Magnus na Buaise, or the Clann Magnus of the River Bush, to distinguish them from another branch of the O'Kanes, called Clann Magnus na Banna, from the situation of their territory on the western banks of that river. But Queen Elizabeth granted this place to Surly Boy (Somhairle Buidhe) M'Donnell, as we are informed by Camden.

"The tract above this (i. e. above the Glinnes) as far as the river Ban, is called Route, being the residence of the Mac Guillies, no inconsiderable family in their own country, though driven into such a narrow corner by the violence and continual depredations of the island Scots. For Surly Boy (q. d. Charles the Yellow), brother of James M'Connell, who had possessed himself of the Glines, made himself, by some means or other, master of this tract, till the Lord Deputy, John Perrott, before mentioned, taking Donluse Castle, their strongest fortress, situate on a rock commanding the sea, and separated from the land by a deep ditch, drove out him and his followers. Next year, however, he recovered it by treachery, having slain the governor, Cary, who made a brave defence. But the deputy sending against him Meriman, an experienced officer, who slew here the two sons of James M'Connell and Surly Boy's son, Alexander; so harrassed him, and drove off his cattle, which were his only wealth (he having 50,000 cows of his own), that Surly Boy surrendered Donluse, went to Dublin, and in the cathedral made his public submission, presenting an humble petition for mercy; and being afterwards admitted into the deputy's apartment, as soon as he saw the picture of Queen Elizabeth, he threw away his sword, and more than once cast himself at

The M Donnells of Scotland are called M'Connells in old English records, from an attempt to convey the Gaelic pronunciation in English letters. Mc Dhomnhaill is the original name, and it has nothing to do with Connell, and bears no affinity whatsoever with it, except by corruption, although we have seen them classed together as one and the same name by a gentleman of great research in Irish history. This error must have arisen from a want of acquaintance with the ancient language of Ireland and Scotland

her feet, and devoted himself to her Majesty. Being thus received into favour, and among the number of her subjects in Ireland, he abjured all allegiance to every foreign prince, in the courts of chancery and king's bench; and, by Queen Elizabeth's bounty, had four districts given him, called Toughes, from the river Boys to Ban, DONSEVERIG, Loghill, and Bally Monyn (Ballymoney) with the government of Donluse Castle for himself and the heirs male of his body, to hold of the kings of England, on condition that neither he, nor his men, nor their descendants should serve any foreign power without leave; that they should restrain their people from ravaging; furnish, at their own expense, twelve horsemen and forty footmen for forty days in time of war; pay to the king of England a certain number of cattle and hawks annually."-Gough's Camden, vol. iv. p. 431.

That the insulated rock, on which the Castle of Dunseverick is placed, should, from its peculiar strength, have been selected by the early settlers in Ireland as a proper situation for one of their strongholds, is not to be wondered at; but of that original fortress there is no remains. It was, no doubt, like all the ancient castles of a very early date in Ireland, either an earthen dun, or a cahir, or circular stone fort, without cement. The present ruin, though of great strength, the walls being eleven feet in thickness, is evidently of an age not anterior to the English invasion, and was probably erected by the M'Quillans, but our annals are silent as to the period of its re-edification.

I should not have troubled the reader with so many quotations and minute references, had I not felt myself called upon to correct this gross mistake in the geography of ancient Ireland-a mistake which it has been the custom of every writer who has treated of the subject to copy from his predecessors, without examining the grounds on which the statement rested. I am also fully convinced, that unless we quote original and authentic MSS. for the proof of Irish history, our arguments are baseless, and we leave the history of Ireland the same muddy thing which it has always been justly styled.

J. O'DONOVAN.

ON LIME AND MORTAR.

In a former number it was stated, that pure lime was obtained by depriving certain carbonates of their fixed air, or carbonic acid gas. Lime was known in the very earliest times, and was greatly employed by the ancients as a medicine, and as a chief ingredient in mortar. It was used also by them as a manure for their lands. Its material is found in almost every part of the world, and in various states as in lime-stone, chalk, and marble, which, by burning, are converted into what the chemists properly call lime. When water is poured on lime, it falls to pieces, and heat, or caloric, is evolved, and not unfrequently flame. How is this accounted for? How is it that water, the great extinguisher of fire, should in this instance have the contrary effect? To the chemists we are indebted for the solution of this seemingly paradoxical problem. Lime is found to be heavier after being slacked, and the additional weight is owing to part of the water combining with the lime; so that the water may again be separated by a red heat, and then the lime is just the same as it was before it was slacked. Now, it is plain from this that the water in part combines with the lime, and becomes solid, and consequently parts with its caloric of fluidity, or latent heat, for caloric exists even in ice; if two parts lime and one part ice, each at 32 degrees, the freezing point of water, are mixed together, they instantly combine, and the temperature of the mixture rises to the boiling point of water, that is 212 degrees of Fahrenheit. Now, it is clear, that when the quantity of lime and water are considerable, the combination between them is so great and so rapid, that heat, accompanied with flame or fire, is given out; but it is also more than probable that part of the caloric is also contained in the unslacked lime. However, be this as it may, these principles will account for the phenomena.

One of the most important uses of lime is mortar as a cement for building; when it dries, it becomes as hard as stone and equally durable, so that the wall in a short time becomes one solid mass. This is, however, very

imperfectly obtained, unless the mortar be skilfully and, at the same time, carefully prepared. The best preparations, according to the most accurate experiments, are these: "Three parts of fine sand, four parts of coarse sand, one part of quick lime fresh slaked, and as little water as possible." The hardening of mortar is partly owing to its absorption of carbonic acid gas from the atmosphere, which converts it again into limestone; but principally to the combination of part of the water with the lime; but if we add one fourth part of unslacked lime, reduced to powder, to common mortar, the mortar, when dry, acquires much greater solidity; but the proportion of ingredients, which answers best in this case is, "fine sand three parts, cement of well-baked bricks three parts, and slaked and unslaked lime each two parts." It is also found that as little water as possible should be used in the slaking of lime and making mortar. It has also been discovered that burnt bones improve mortar, by increasing its tenacity; but this addition should never exceed one fourth of the lime. When manganese is added to mortar, it acquires the important property of hardening under water. Four parts of blue clay, six parts of black oxide of Manganese, and ninety of limestone, all in powder, and calcined, with sixty parts of sand formed into mortar with water, make an excellent cement for resisting water. Our common basalt stone, when heated red hot, and thrown into water, to break it into small pieces, which can easily be reduced to powder, when mixed with lime, answers equally as well as puzzuolano for resisting water in the way of cement; but it must be of the same texture as the basalt of the Giant's Causeway. Ballymena. J. GETTY.

ANECDOTE OF A WEASEL.

On a fine morning in the spring of 1828, while walking on the road from Newry to Warrenpoint, enjoying the pleasure to be derived from the most enchanting scenery and inhaling with delight the invigorating breeze, as it came fresh and bracing up the valley, impregnated with saline particles from the far-famed Lough of Carlingford, my attention was suddenly aroused, by observing, at a short distance in front, a weasel descending from a hedge and endeavouring to convey, with great apparent difficulty, the dead body of another animal towards a marsh on the opposite side of the road; on my near approach, it relinquished its burden, and retreated to its former position. On arriving at the spot, I was rather surprised at finding what I had conceived to be the body of a rat, to be that of a full grown weasel, grey with age. As I never before had an opportunity of examining this animal closely, I was highly gratified with my prize, and returned homewards, intending to preserve it. I had not proceeded far, when casually looking behind me, I was astonished at perceiving the live animal within a few paces of me, exhibiting, in the most lively manner, by its gestures and appearance, the most intense anxiety and distress. I stopped, and so did it, and after looking in my face for a few seconds, it seemed to gather courage and gradually drew nearer; I then held the dead body behind me, it immediately went behind and varying its position as I changed mine, seemed determined not to lose sight of the object of its solicitude.

I had before heard of the spitefulness and venom of weasels, and own I at first felt apprehensive it would attack me, but on examining the countenance of my new acquaintance, I found in it no traces of ferocity, on the contrary it evinced nothing but supplication and despair, moving its head continually from side to side, and keeping its eyes fixed intently on what I began to consider the body of a beloved parent, it still watched my motions and followed me a considerable distance.

During this extraordinary pantomime, I was joined by several persons, the novelty of the circumstance inducing them to stop, and among others, by a gentleman of Newry, who requested me to lay down the body, that we might see the result; on my doing so, the other seized it by the back, not fiercely but with the greatest care-and nothing disturbed by the presence of nearly a dozen spectatorswith the greatest apparent labour, succeeded in bringing it under a gate into the marsh. The gentlemen followed,

but, (as I felt rather chagrined at losing my prize), I did not, and so cannot say how it eventually disposed of it. William Needham Thompson, Esq., collector of Newry, the gentleman alluded to above, can vouch for the authenticity of this anecdote. R. A.

THE TYRAWLY STAG.

Many years ago, a stag was in the possession of a gentleman of Tyrawly, he grew to be a powerful and splendid beast, but his propensities and dispositions were very different to those of the playful and innocent hind.

The stag was bold and violent; detested strangers and women, and from his enormous size and strength, was frequently a very dangerous playfellow. He had a particular fancy for horses-resided mostly in the stable, and when the carriage was ordered to the door, if permitted, he would accompany it. A curious anecdote is told of him: he had no objection whatever to allow a gentleman to enter the coach, but to the fair sex he had an unconquerable aversion; with his consent, no lady should be an inside passenger. The servants were obliged to drive him away, before their mistress could venture to appear, and at last he became so troublesome and unsafe, as to render his banishment to an adjoining deer-park the necessary punishment of his indocility. He did not survive this disgrace long, he pined away rapidly, avoided the fallow deer, and died, as my informant declared, of a broken heart.- Wild Sports of the West.

ANCIENT TOMBS,

IN THE COLLEGIATE CHURCH OF YOUGHAL.

We return to the Collegiate Church of Youghal, of which we recently gave an account in our 44th number, for the purpose of noticing some of the most remarkable of the ancient tombs contained within its walls. Of these, many of the most ancient are, oblong flag stones, ornamented with crosses, of which an infinite variety of forms are to be found in our ancient abbeys. The annexed wood cut represents one of those monumental stones, bearing the date of 1517, inscribed within a circle on the shaft of the cross, and traditionally said to be the tomb of a mayor of Youghal. This monumental stone is in the north transept.

Another slab of this description, but apparently of greater antiquity, which is within the nave, is remarkable in having a head sculptured in bold relief above the cross a circumstance not usual in such monuments. This monumental stone, is also attributed to a mayor of Youghal, whose name was Ronayne, and supposed to have lived in the reign of Elizabeth.

But the most interesting of the Youghal monuments, for its architectural beauty and antiquity, is the altar tomb on the north side of the choir, which is simply noticed by Smith, as a very old tomb without date, and of which no representation has been hitherto published. This beauti

Hic Facet Thomas Fleming ☆

The reader will find an ample account in Smith's History, of the more recent tombs contained with in the south transept, which was formerly a chantry dedicated to the blessed Saviour, but purchased, as we have stated in our 44th number, from the Mayor and Corporation, in 1606, by the earl of Cork, and converted into a mortuary chapel or tomb house for himself and family. The principal monument is that of the Boyle family, which was erected by the first earl of Cork, and which, as Mr. Brewer observes, is so loaded with effigies and escutcheons,

66

Clayton.

and illustrated by inscriptions so very copious and explicit, that the monument may be truly said to present heraldic and genealogical memoirs of the founder and his family." In its general character, this monument is very similar to that of the same family in St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin, and is chiefly constructed of marble, and the figures of alabaster. The principal figure is that of the earl of Cork himself, represented in armour, in a recumbent position; and below are nine of his children. Another monument worthy of note is that of Richard Bennet and Ellis Barry his wife, who, as appears from the inscription, was 'the first foundress of this chapel; which being demolished in the time of the rebellion, and their tomb defaced, was re-edified by Richard, Lord Boyle, Baron of Youghal, who, for reviving the memory of them, repaired this tomb, and had their effigies, cut in stone, placed thereon, Anno Domini. 1619." In this chapel there is an epitaph on Sir Richard Villers, Lord President of Munster, who died in 1626, which, as our friend Mr. Crofton Croker observes, bears a strong resemblance in style to those written by Ben Johnson :

"Munster may curse the time that Villers came
To make us worse, by leaving such a name
Of noble parts, as none can imitate,

But those whose hearts are married to the state;
But, if they press to rival him in fame,
Munster may bless the time that Villers came!"

P.

THE HYPOCHONDRIAC.

Of all the evils that afflict man, imaginary evils are the most grievous; for all others a remedy can be provided; hope pours its balm into the wound, or we are solaced and supported by the sympathy of friends; but imaginary ones create a sickness of the mind which preys upon our vitals; we meet with no commiseration; and, left entirely to ourselves, we brood over our misfortune, gradually sink under the pressure of the load of ill, and life itself becomes a burden to the miserable hypochondriac.

Various instances are on record of the extraordinary effects produced by the force of imagination. We have read of a lady who, under its influence, supposing herself a China teapot, would suffer no person to approach, lest she should receive irreparable injury; of a gentleman who, under the impression that part of his body was made of glass, forbore to sit for many months, and suffered the greatest inconvenience rather than endanger the fragile material. These facts are ludicrous; but a more melancholy one is related of a gentleman who conceived he had grown so large as to be unable to pass through the door of his apartment, and who, on an attempt being made to force him through, and so convince him of his error, actually imagined he was crushed to pieces, and expired on the spot.

Another gentleman of rank and fortune, in the county of Cork, fancied one leg was a Papist and the other a Protestant, and frequently put the poor Popish leg outside the bed clothes, to punish it for its religious errors.

The most remarkable instance of such extraordinary infatuation that has ever came to our knowledge was that of a gentleman who resided, some seventy years since, in a certain town, not thirty miles from the metropolis, the circumstances of which, as they have come down by tradition, we will proceed to relate, first premising, that as the immediate descendants of the hero of our tale are living, and moving in the highest ranks of society, it will be proper for obvious reasons, to suppress both names and dates.

Squire B. was a gentleman of rank and fortune, possessed of every requisite to make life comfortable, and apparently not having a wish ungratified; blest with health, wealth, and friends in abundance, he had mounted smoothly up the hill of life, and, now past his climacteric, was going as smoothly down; having acquired by age, and a certain temperament of character, a rubicund visage, a clear indication he was not averse to the good things of this life and occasionally enjoyed them, and a most respectable rotundity of figure, that conferred honour on the worshipful corporation that numbered him among their most efficient members, which spoke trumpet-tongued in favour of the extent of his gastronomic attainments.

But, alas for human nature! with all his attainments, Squire B. was an unhappy man; for, reader, he was envious; the very abundance of his blessings was his greatest curse; having nothing to do, he was overpowered with fatigue; having nothing to care for, he became the victim of anxiety; and apparently free from trouble, he was loaded with difficulties; at certain seasons every thing annoyed him; the very revolution of the sun in his course was a matter of concern, and the fitful changing of the wind, added to his perplexity, and caused him insufferable anguish.

We are not prepared to say that such was the case continually-no; at times he could enjoy the world and all things in it; but, as every rose has its thorn, and there is no earthly happiness without its alloy, so there were seasons, and these were those of joy and festivity, such as Michaelmas day and "July the first," on which occasions he considered himself called on, by an extraordinary display of trencher ability, to attest his loyalty and devotedness to the good old cause; but, alas! after such repletions, his pains and anxieties generally came on with redoubled viofence, and he became the absolute prey of cholic and the blue devils.

It chanced that nearly opposite his residence a worthy son of St. Crispin, alias a cobler, had taken up his abode; his domicile, only consisted of

And here, having nothing to eat but as it was earned, he had no time to be sick; he was cheerful and contented; satisfied, if, by mending the soles and repairing the broken down understandings of the lieges, he could obtain sufficient for the supply of his present necessities, he gave care to the winds, and

"Carolled away idle sorrow,

And blythe as the lark that each day hails the dawn,
Looked forward with hope till to-morrow;"

while his loud laugh and merry catch and song might be heard, in concert with the tap-tap of his hammer, from dawn till dusk, issuing from the humble bulk in which he followed his avocation.

Of all the various troubles that troubled, tantalized, and tormented the aforesaid unhappy gentleman, the greatest -the sorest affliction, was the merry cobler; not that the poor man ever did him any harm-no; but it grieved him to his heart's core to see him so happy, and himself so miserable; in short, he was the object of his envy, then of his dislike, and lastly, he regarded him with the greatest abhorence and detestation; and considering the poor man his mortal foe, he was firmly convinced that, for the sole and express purpose of annoying and tormenting him, he commenced work earlier in the morning, made his hammer tell more distinctly, sung his song louder, and laughed heartier than was at all necessary; in fact, if he had an antipathy in the world, it was the worthy cobler.

Now, be it known to all concerned, that, on a certain morning in the month of July, 17—, the sun had risen in unclouded majesty, and beheld the gentleman and the cob. ler each in his respective position-the former sunk in his bed of down, suffering under the effects of the last night's repletion, tossed restlessly from side to side, and vainly endeavoured to obtain

"Tir'd nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep."

The latter had just shaken himself from his bed of straw and, light of heart and empty of pocket, had commenced his work and his song together.

Squire B. had got himself into that state, between asleep and awake, in which our thoughts, floating loosely around us, become confused, and various and divers creations of the imagination flit across the brain. Suddenly the loud laugh and song of the cobler struck upon his tympanum, and, in an instant, conjured up the most frightful ideas, under the influence of which he supposed the door of his chamber burst open, and his enemy, loaded with all the paraphernalia of his profession, rushed into the room, and without ceremony, or as much as "by y'r leave," jumped bodily down his throat, and made a secure lodgment in his interior.

Greatly alarmed, and now " wide awake," he roared out lustily for assistance, and rung his bell with violence. On the servant making his appearance, he demanded, in a voice of thunder, how he had dared to leave his hall door open at such an early hour? The servant, surprised at his vehemence, answered submissively, he had not opened it, that it was still locked and bolted. "I say, sir," said his now infuriated master, "it was open; for that rascally cobler over the way has this instant bolted into the room, and leaped down my throat into my belly."

"Oh, sir," said the astonished man, "such a thing cannot be; the door is still fast, and the poor man is there beyond in his bulk; if your honour just gets up, and comes to the window, you can see him."

«Hah! you villain," returned his master, "is that the way ?--now I see you are in league with him! Do you think I can get up with the weight of a damned cobler in my belly? Do you want me to burst? Oh! oh!" and he groaned with unutterable anguish, "was there ever a man like me, so prettily fixed, as to have a cobler in his belly?"

The servant firmly convinced his master had become deranged, hastened to alarm the family; and, in a short time, the bed of the invalid was surrounded by a numerous assemblage of friends and relatives, to whom he related, with great minuteness and precision, the circumstances of his case. He found it difficult to convince any of the truth of his assertions, particularly as the identical cobler was to be seen in his bulk opposite, singing and hammer