Honours," he continued, turning to the bench,
"if I'm to swing for it the next minute, I
won't let that go with the vagabone. I wouldn't
lave it to him to say that I didn't knock him
down, and murder him handsomely to his
heart's content."

The witness had been summoned to prove
that the master had used unnecessary violence;
the defendant was there to prove he had not
employed more force than the occasion
demanded. But would they establish such
proofs at the expense of their respective
reputations? Should it be said that Tim
Murphy's friend, or John Minahan, were
not able to "murther ach other intirely,"
at any given minute's notice? Never!
Tim Murphy's friend would starve on "Ingy
male," and John Minahan would lose his
place first.

What became of the witness has not been
stated; but the defendant did lose his
situation; the guardians of the Union thought
that his national ideas of honour were
undoubtedly more suited to military than to
civil avocations.

Although it is doubtful whether the Irish
peculiarity will ever be totally eradicated from
the national character, yet the savage custom
of faction-fighting is becoming each year more
rare. Sometimes, indeed, at the close of a fair a
"bit of a fight" does spring up; but the
casualties thence resulting, are seldom of a
grave or fatal character; and the contending
parties may frequently be seen proceeding
homewards, with arms lovingly linked
together, and tongues vowing eternal friendship;
although this, it must be confessed, is
an indication of a renewal rather than of the
end of an Irish fight.

No doubt the process of fusing the national
peculiarities of the three kingdoms is
advancing rapidly. It is no wild speculation to
anticipate the probability, that fifty years
hence there may be little apparent difference
between an average native of England, Ireland,
(always excepting the "extreme wild Irishman")
or Scotland.

WHERE DWELL THE DEAD?

WHERE do they dwell? 'Neath grassy mounts, by daisies,
Lilies, and yellow-cups of fairest gold;
Near grey-grown walls, where in wild, tortuous mazes,
Old clustering ivy wreathes in many a fold:
          Where in red summer noons
          Fresh leaves are rustling,
          Where 'neath large autumn moons
          Young birds are nestling—
                         Do they dwell there?

Where do they dwell? In sullen waters, lying
On beds of purple sea-flowers newly sprung;
Where the mad whirlpool's wild and ceaseless sighing,
Frets sloping banks, by dark green reeds o'erhung:
          Where, by the torrent's swell,
          Crystal stones glitter,
          While sounds the heavy bell
          Over the river—
                         Do they dwell there?

No: for in these they slumber to decay,
And their remembrance with their life departs;
They have a home,—nor dark, nor far away—
Their proper home,—within our faithful hearts
          There happy spirits wed,
          Loving for ever;
          There dwell with us, the dead,
          Parting—ah, never—
                         There do they dwell!

FATE DAYS.

IT is a difficult puzzle to reconcile the
existence of certain superstitions that continue
to have wide influence with the enlightenment
of the nineteenth century. When
we have read glowing paragraphs about the
wonderful progress accomplished by the
present generation; when we have regarded
the giant machinery in operation for the
culture of the people—moved, in great part,
by the collective power of individual charity;
when we have examined the stupendous
results of human genius and ingenuity which
are now laid bare to the lowliest in the realm;
we turn back, it must be confessed, with a
mournful despondency, to mark the debasing
influence of the old superstitions which have
survived to the present time.

The superstitions of the ancients formed
part of their religion. They consulted oracles
as now men pray. The stars were the arbiters
of their fortunes. Natural phenomena, as
lightning and hurricanes, were, to them,
awful expressions of the anger of their
particular deities. They had their dies atri and
their dies albi; the former were marked down
in their calendars with a black character, to
denote ill-luck, and the latter were painted in
white characters to signify bright and
propitious days. They followed the finger-posts
of their teachers. Faith gave dignity to the
tenets of the star-gazer and fire-worshipper.

The priests of old taught their disciples to
regard six particular days in the year as days
fraught with unusual danger to mankind.
Men were enjoined not to let blood on these
black days, nor to imbibe any liquid. It was
devoutly believed that he who ate goose on
one of these black days would surely die within
forty more; and that any little stranger who
made his appearance on one of the dies atri
would surely die a sinful and violent death.
Men were further enjoined to let blood from
the right arm on the seventh or fourteenth of
March; from the left arm on the eleventh of
April; and from either arm on the third or
sixth of May, that they might avoid pestilential
diseases. These barbaric observances, when
brought before people in illustrations of the
mental darkness of the ancients, are
considered at once to be proof positive of their
abject condition. We thereupon congratulated
ourselves upon living in the nineteenth
century; when such foolish superstitions are