heavy on his coffin; hearken to her frantic scream, when it hides it for ever from her view. Hear then, God of mercy, her fervent, her heart-rending prayer. Softly mayst thou rest in transient sleep, happily may we meet in life everlasting. CHAPTER XIV. Departure from Drogheda-Stage-coach miseries-Castle Blayney-Improvement in Irish inns-Partial improvements in cottages Beggars-Monaghan-Scottish dialect-Scotch settlers-Gaol-Cunning idiot-Preservation by drunkenness— Environs of Monaghan-Methodists-Travelling-Anecdote of a culprit and hanginan. Monaghan. I IMMEDIATELY after writing the above, I took my seat in the Londonderry mail for this town. proposed leaving Drogheda a day sooner, but found it impossible. An Irishman's house, like Polyphemus's den, is of easy access; the difficulty is in getting out of it. My friend could not speak Irish, and hated the Papists, but in all other respects he was a genuine Irishman. He loved his acquaintance, and valued his whiskey only as he could have one to share it with him he would have had me partake liberally of it the night of my departure; but as the sickness of a coach is quite enough, without drunken sickness into the bargain, I excused myself with some difficulty. The coach came in from Dublin about one in the morning. On entering it, I found two women seated on one side; I took the opposite one, and flattered myself with the hope of undisturbed sleep till morning. I was stretching myself on the seat for the purpose, when the return of three stout fellows to their places made me sit upright. I was squeezed in between two of them, muffled up in great coats, though the night was insufferably close. The weakest, says the proverb, goes to the wall: the last comer into a coach is, in like manner, thrust into the middle. One of the women, who complained of rheumatism, kept chewing something, which, from its smell, I think was garlic; the men's breaths were reeking with punch like a furnace. Whiskey and garlic together could not form a very delectable atmosphere. I verily believe it was heated above eighty. The perspiration stood in large drops on my forehead, and even trickled down my face. I thought of going on the outside, but the night, though warm, was wet, and the outside likewise seemed full. I had no alternative, therefore, but to remain STEWING where I was; praying, as I most anxiously did, for the morning. To mend the matter, after travelling a few miles, the man on my left hand fell asleep, and began snoring most unmusically: his head every instant came against me, though I drove it back with a violence that would have awaked any man who had swallowed a less powerful opiate. Never did I pass a more unpleasant night; for I had not only the annoyance of this SLEEPING BEAUTY on the one side, but of his companion on the other. Drunkenness, which made the one sleep, set the other singing; and, in a uniform, monotonous tone, like the drone of a pair of bagpipes, he gave us Bright Chanticleer, Grammachree, and Listen to the Voice of Love. Never did the soft notes of the latter breathe from more discordant lips. He afterwards laboured through another song, which had, I think, upwards of forty verses: I recollect two of them. "You are welcome from the stormy ocean, The mu "To you, my jewel, my friends proved cruel, Which caused me many a silent tear ; 'Twas for your sake my heart did ache, When first you parted your Molly dear." Prudence kept me for some time silent. sician had the fist of an ox, and looked very well cut out for boxing, whatever he might be for singing. At length, finding his songs, like the Sultaness Scheherazade's stories, were inexhaustible, I lost all patience, and asked him angrily, how he thought people could sleep, if he kept disturbing them in that manner? "And is it sleep that you are talking about, my honey?" said he, with the most perfect unconcern ; "faith, and if it's that you want, you should have ́staid at home in your neat comfortable bed, and laid yourself snug between your two sheets: the devil a soul here would have thought of wakening you." Though I did not much relish the freedom of his address, I did not pursue the argument any further, and, after a moment or two's pause, he changed his song into a whistle. He was not more fortunate here than in the other: exhausted with fatigue, at length I fell asleep, and left him in the middle of Rule Britannia, after having gone through the Coolan (an old Irish song) with its thirteen variations. I was awaked by the stopping of the coach in Car rickmacross, about seven in the morning. I got out, and sauntered a little about the town, while the horses were changing. I think it consists of one street only, which is a very broad one; but whether it is situated on a hill or in a valley, I am sure I have no recollection : that terrible fellow's song still rung in my ears. Had I been in Pluto's place, I should have given him not only Eurydice, but half the women in my dominions, to be rid of his piping. Happily he went no further than this town, of which he was a native. Notwithstanding the altercation (if it may be so called) of the preceding night, he came up to me in the street, and invited me into his house to have a drop of something warm, just to keep the damp out of my stomach this cold morning. I answered him dryly, that I never drank in a morning. "Then come over," said he," and have a comfortable cup of tea; the mistress will boil the kettle in an instant." It was impossible to retain resentment against so worthy a creature. I was obliged to decline his offer, however, for the coach was preparing to set off. On returning to it I found it almost entirely deserted : one of the women only remained; she who had the rheumatism and chewed garlic. I felt no inclination to enter into conversation with her, for (it is but a poor pun, but as I conceived it, I shall bring it forth) she probably would have given me foul words; I therefore threw myself into the corner occupied by the ci-devant sleeper, and betook myself to follow his example. The distance from Carrickmacross to Castleblayney is thirteen miles: when we had got about half way, I awoke and looked out. The morning was wet, the road was rough, and the country was dreary. Within, the M landscape was not more cheering. I shut my eyes a second time, nor did I awake till the guard's horn announced our arrival in Castleblayney. Mr. J. Hanway, I think it was, who wrote a long pamphlet on the injurious effects of tea; the people read and wondered, and, as is usual when told to give up what they like, drank it more than ever: had he been jolted all night in a stage-coach, and then experienced the good effects from it that I did, he would, I dare say, have given it a better character. I sat down sick and weary, and Morpheus, with his leaden hand, pressed heavy on my eyelids. Had I taken up my pen to have written, nothing, I am sure, but laudanum would have flown from it; but no sooner had I swallowed a few cups of this delicious fluid, than drowsiness and ill-humour, black children of the night, flew away as fast as the Trojans did at the sight of Achilles. Castleblayney is a poor-looking place, and contains probably a hundred houses: it takes its name from the noble family of Blayney, to which it belongs. The demesne joins the town; the present lord had the old house taken down, and the present expensive one erected in its stead. I have never seen it, but am told it is a most fantastic building. The inn where I breakfasted was likewise built by his lordship: it is a large and handsome house, and seems very well kept. There was a smaller house a little distance from it, but it was unfortunately burned down a few months ago. The landlord saved himself and one of his children; but his wife, two infants, a woman servant, and two soldiers, who were billeted on him, perished. The grand jury at the last assizes laid the amount of the |