audience in the most familiar conversational
tone, and even translated the language of Scripture
into the humblest and most modern
vernacular. Yet, doubtless, this is the right way
to preach to the understandings and hearts of
the uneducated, and the Prior spoke like a
man who took an interest in what he was
talking about; while his language, though so
unadorned, was always correct and forcible;
and his illustrations—in the course of which
he introduced Tenant Right, Napoleon crossing
the Alps, the Marquis of Anglesea, and
the Pork Trade—were very much to the
purpose. The congregation, on the whole,
were earnestly attentive; but there were one
or two fidgetty persons who encountered
strongly-worded reproofs, in parenthesis, from
the preacher. Few were absent from the
Chapel, and from its appearance, therefore, we
computed the number of pilgrims on the
laland at the time of our visit to be about
seven hundred.

Leaving the Chapel, we repaired to the
quay, and embarked in a small boat, anticipating
the large one, which speedily restored
us to the mainland. A new group of
Stationers were here awaiting transportation,
and I confess I felt somewhat ashamed to
receive various blessings from these as a
faithful son of the holy Catholic Church.

Dining at Pettigo, we did not pursue our
homeward journey till an hour when all
Ireland lay wrapped in the clouds of the night,
without moon or star; and as we approached
those thick woods through which our road
for some distance led, where the trees stood
up black before us against the dark sky, it
seemed as though we were plunging into a
heavier night within the night.

GERMAN ADVERTISEMENTS.

IT has been thought by rash speculatists
who spell the Times, that the art and purpose
of advertising have attained the highest
perfection in this country. "When they perceive
that every want that human fancy can invent,
or human luxury demand, may be supplied
through the agency of one or other of our
broad sheets; when anything that is lost,
from a run-away husband to a bolting horse;
from a thousand pound-note to a piece of
paper " of no use to any but the owner;"
from a purse to a pin; is looked for—and
seldom without a clue to its recovery—in the
columns of the London newspapers, the conjecture
that the perfection of publicity has been
attained in this country, may be forgiven.

Yet we must, however humiliating to our
national pride, undeceive the believers in this
pre-eminence, by showing that, in at least one
department of advertising, we are totally and
hopelessly behind the Germans. The
sentimental advertisement is nearly unknown to
us. Although advertisements for wives
sometimes meet the eye of the English quid-nunc,
there is nothing tender in them. The never
absent stipulation respecting the fortune of
the required bride, shows that these are
anything but affairs of the heart. A middle-
aged lady with plenty of money, generally
satisfies the sentiment of the advertiser.

Where real feeling is concerned, we English
keep it as secret as possible. We do not,
like German juveniles, advertise our broken
hearts, but when they are fractured gather up
the pieces as speedily as possible, and have
them mended in secrecy and silence. Finding
sufficient expression for the aspirations of our
inmost souls in the tremulous whisperings
of private intercourse, or in pen-and-ink
outpourings through the penny post, we have
not yet acquired the habit of shedding
our passionate protestations and fervent
appeals over the columns of the public journals.
Expensive as we are said to be in all our
habits and gratifications, we have not yet
contracted the costly habit of publishing to
the world the raptures and torments of our
loves and our griefs, at from sixpence to one
shilling per line—Government duty included.
It is true that " O. H! " sometimes
promises in the third column of the leading
journal to meet Mary Anne " at the old place"
at seven; yet he waits till that delightful
hour to tell her all he hopes, and feels, and
fears. The German is, it would appear, too
passionately impatient for this; he makes his
declaration at once, not to Fraulin Bertha
alone, but to the whole world. He does not
merely whisper his tale of love into her single
ear: but places it in the Cologne or Prussian
Gazette, before the eyes of Europe. He can
never place his hand on his heart, and sing—

     " I have a silent sorrow here,
          A grief I'll ne'er impart;
     It breathes no sigh, it sheds no tear,
          But it consumes my heart."

The German swain's sorrow, so far from
remaining silent, obtrudes itself into the bosom
of every family which takes in the newspaper,
by whose columns it is conveyed, hot from
the press, to his adored Bertha; and his
heart is consumed—like an ox on a rejoicing
day—in the most public manner possible.

Young ladies reciprocate. Here is a
specimen from a damsel in Cologne to her lover
in Berlin. She conveys her secret sentiments
in the largest German text of the Cologne
Gazette, thus:—

                                 Hôtel de la Couronne.
PARDON, Pardon, it was not my fault. Thou
desirest a letter, but how and where? Here
I cannot remain—why, thou must understand.
The last was read and burnt. When shall it be?
Not before Whitsuntide. It is possible thou
mightest obtain permission after harvest if thou
improvest and Grandpapa contin—but—yet. If
I should not write, fear not that I shall always love
thee.—Thine, JULIA.

Absent lovers congratulate each other on
their respective birth-days in the same fashion.