Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in prayer till almost break of day.

Now a little before day, good Christian, as one half amazed, broke out into this passionate speech: What a fool,' quoth he, 'am I thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle.' Then said Hopeful, 'That 's good news, brother; pluck it out of thy bosom, and try.'

Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the dungeon-door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. Then he went to the outward door, that leads into the castle-yard, and with his key opened that door also. After that, he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too, but that lock went desperately hard; yet the key did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed, but that gate as it opened made such a creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who, hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his fits took him

again, so that he could by no means go after them. Then they went on, and came to the King's highway again, and so were safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction.*

IRISH BUTTER.
(MARTINEAU.)

HERE, then, are we brought round to so near home as the Kerry hills, and the pastures of Cork and Limerick. Let us take a run over those hills, and see what is doing.

We suppose we shall find the cows tenderly cared for, judging by the solicitude shown for yonder pig. His owner's dwelling is a mud cabin, dark except where the decayed thatch lets in the light, and all going to melt into a slough apparently with the first rain; whereas, the pig's house is a truly comfortable affair. It is built against the cabin, in the very middle, for show. Its stone walls are white-washed, its roof is slated, its entrance is arched. Piggie himself is allowed great liberty. He may roam where he will, with the one condi

* Jurisdiction: district over which power extends.

see.

tion that he will wear a man's hat, not on his head, but over his face, the crown being cut to allow him to feed. Thus veiled below the eyes, he may wander where he will, unable as he is to root up the potatoes or poke his snout in where he has no business. If such is the care taken of the pig, what may we not look for in regard to the cows? On we go to Who is this that wants us to stop? Why does he leave his flock of sheep and hang upon our car, and rain a shower of words on us passing travellers? for he is no beggar. He entreats us, and will not take a refusal, to buy then and there, on our car and on the instant, thirty-four lambs, which he declares we shall have cheap. We have refused, in our time, to purchase and carry away in the high street of a town, a barrel of red herrings; also a mattress. It seems to us even more inconvenient to carry away thirty-four sheep on an Irish car, especially as we want no sheep, and live across the Channel; but the farmer does not agree with us. He presses his bargain on us till compelled by want of breath to drop behind. As we advance, we see a cow here and there stepping into a cabin, as if taking refuge from the evening air in good

time, while the sun is yet declining. The family receive her affectionately, milk her tenderly by the fireside, and let her retire into the corner to sleep when she likes. How good must the butter be from a cow so treated! Farther on, however, we perceive that all cows, most cows, are not pampered in this way. Early in the mornings we see them getting up from their beds on the hill-sides, the dry space where they have lain being darker and greener than the dewy grass around. They have certainly been out all night. And why not? our driver wonders; the Kerry breed is hardy, and where would they go if there were not the hills for them to roam over? In which question we join, when we see how many there are.

The farm consists of forty acres. One acre is occupied by the house, dairy, yard, and garden; twenty acres are under tillage, and nineteen remain for grazing ground, including bog to the extent of half an acre. There are ten cows, several pigs, and ducks, chickens, and geese in plenty. Of the twenty acres, a considerable portion is devoted to the growth of green crops, swedes, mangold-wurzel, &c.

The rest is

for the winter food of the cows. grain-wheat, barley, and oats-which all go to market, the family being fed on the cheaper diet of Indian meal. The bog is not the least useful part of the ground. It yields all the fuel required, not only in the shape of peat, but in abundance of fire-wood of the finest quality. Heaps of blackened, scraggy wood may be seen drying in the sun; and when dry, they burn like cannel coal. Moreover, of the logs of wood found in the bog, the dairy utensils are all made; and the people on the spot ascribe the best qualities of their butter to the use of this bog-oak: a persuasion which is regarded as a mistake by the butter-merchants of the ports. The keelers, or shallow tubs, various in size, in which the milk stands, are made of inch-thick bog oak; and so is the churn. It certainly appears to be completely secure from warping, and from the attacks of insects. Its seasoning has been rather long-some thousands of years, probably; so that the taste of the wood must have gone out of it some time ago. The question is, whether that of the seasoning has not succeeded to it.

The dairy is a large shed, with a flagged