Part 3

"Depend upon it," said I, "such a chap had 'whips for a penny' when he was a child." "Quite so," said my companion; "you have put this matter before me in a new point of view." Here we were startled by the familiar sound of the coach whip, and saw a stage-driver flogging in the severest style four heated, panting, and overpowered horses, coming in with a heavily laden coach; the lash was perpetually laid on; even the keenest at the draught were flogged, that they might pull on the rest, and the less powerful were flogged to keep up with them. The coachman, no doubt, when a child, had his share of 'whips for a penny.' When he grew up and entered upon his vocation, he perhaps at first compassionated the horses which he was obliged to force to their stages in a given time; he might have had his favourites among them too, and yet often and severely tested their powers of speed or endurance; and at length, as they became diseased and stiff in the limbs, and broken-winded from overwork, he may have satisfied himself with the reflection, that the fault was not his, that his employer ought to have given him a better team, and that it was a shame for him to ask any coachman to drive such "rum uns." Habit renders him callous; he does not now _feel_ for the sufferings of the wretched animals he guides and punishes; nay, he often coolly takes from the boot-box the short handled _Tommy_, which is merely the well-grown and severer whip of the species which his employer and himself had used in childhood, when they both bought "whips for a penny," and lays it as heavily as his vigorous arm empowers him, on one of the worn-out wheelers, which unhappily for themselves are within range of its infliction. The hackney-coachmen and cabmen, too,

"Though oft I've heard good judges say It costs them more for whips than hay,"

are not much worse than their more consequential brethren of the whip; all of them consider the noble creature, subjugated by their power, and abused most criminally through their cruelty, as a mere piece of machinery, to be flogged along like a top as long as it can be kept going.

We reached the upper end of one of the numerous lanes leading from the Thames; five splendid horses were endeavouring to draw up a heavy waggon-load of coals; but as the two first turned into the street at right angles to the others, they were not aiding those behind them. Being stopped in their progress for some time, by a crowd of coaches, chaises, cabs, carts, and omnibuses, the labour of keeping the waggon on the spot it had already attained, and which was steep and slippery, rested upon the three hinder horses. At length the team was put in motion, all the leading ones being useless in succession as they turned to the angle of the street; and just at the critical point, when the whole enormous draught rested on the shaft horse, the waggoner, taxing its strength beyond its capability, struck it with the whip. The noble brute made one desperate plunge to execute his tyrant's will, and fell--dead upon the pavement. "I think," said my companion, "that we have had a good lesson upon whips to-day; I should prefer any other gift for my little boy here; for though it may be urged that he, like the rest of his sex at the same age, would merely make a noise with a whip, and would inflict no serious pain, I am bound to bear in mind the actual fact, that with the very sound of a whip is associated in the imagination of all domesticated animals, the apprehension of pain; that they are _terrorized_ when they hear that sound, even through a child's hand, and I must therefore conclude that this symbol of cruelty should not be his plaything." I agreed with him fully, and as our business lay in different directions, we parted at Blackfriar's Bridge, not, however, until my companion of the hour had handed me his card of address. This was an act of unexpected compliment which I could not return exactly in the same way; I told him that I had never written my name on a visiting card in my life, but that I was Martin Doyle, at his service, and a contributor to the new _Irish Penny Journal_, just started in Dublin. "Is not Dublin," said he, "in Ireland?" I stared. "I believe," added he, "that Ireland is a pretty place." I wished the geographical gentleman a rather hasty farewell.

As I walked on, I pondered on the many other instances in which the whip is an instrument of terror or tyranny. First, I thought of the Russian bride meekly offering a horsewhip to her lord, as the token of her submission to the infliction of his blows, whenever it might suit his temper to bestow such proofs of tenderness upon her, and of the perpetual system of flagellation, which, as we are told by travellers, is exercised in the dominions of the great autocrat upon wives, children, servants, and cattle. I thought of French postilions--flagellators of the first order, at least as far as "cracking" without intermission testifies; and, finally, of the British horse-racer.

Horses high in mettle, ardent in the course, without a stimulus of any kind, struggle neck and neck for victory; they approach the winning post; one jockey flogs more powerfully than his compeers; the agonized horse, in his fearful efforts, is lifted as it were from the ground, by two or three desperate twinings (the stabbing at the sides is but a variety of the torture) of the cutting whalebone round his flanks; and at the critical instant, making a bound, as it were, to escape from his half-flayed skin, throws his head forward in his effort, half a yard beyond that of his rival, who has had his share of torture too, and is declared the winner--of what?--a gold-handled prize-whip, which is borne away in triumph by the owner of the winning horse! To be sure, he pockets some of that which is so truly designated "the root of all evil;" but the acquisition of the whip is the distinguishing honour.

And how does this whip in reality differ from any of the "whips for a penny?" It is of pure gold and whalebone; the others are but of painted stick and the cheapest leather; yet they are both but _playthings_--the one in the hand of a man who has spent, it may be, half his patrimony, and as much of his time in the endeavour to win it, while he attaches no real or intrinsic value to it afterwards; the other in the hand of the child, to whom it appears a real and substantial prize. The jockey-man is not a whit more rational in this respect than the boy who bestrides his hobby-horse, and flourishes his penny whip.

Then succeeded to my imagination a far more brutal scene, the steeple-chase. A horse is overpowered in a deep and heavy fallow; he is flogged to press him through it; he reaches a break-neck wall; a desperate cut of the whip sends him flying over it; again and again he puts forth his strength and speed, and falls, and rises again at the instigation of the whip. He comes to a brook; it is too wide for his failing powers, and there is a rotten and precipitous bank at the other side; he shudders, and recoils a moment, but a tremendous lash, worse than the dread of drowning, and the goading of the spur, force him in desperation to the leap; his hind feet give way at the landing side; he falls backward; his spine is broken, and at length a pistol bullet ends his miseries.

In a word, the donation of "whips for a penny" to any child, fairly starts him on the first stage of cruelty; and if, from peculiarity of temperament or the restraining influence of the beneficent Creator (who, though he has allowed man to have dominion, and has put under his feet all sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field, has withheld from him the authority to abuse his privilege), the child grows into the man who is merciful to his beast, the merit is not due to the injudicious person who first presents him with his mimic whip in infancy.

THE WORLD'S CHANGES.

"Contarini Fleming wrote merely, TIME."--

_D'Israeli the Younger._

The Solemn Shadow that bears in his hands The conquering Scythe and the Glass of Sands, Paused once on his flight where the sunrise shone On a warlike city's towers of stone; And he asked of a panoplied soldier near, "How long has this fortressed city been here?" And the man looked up, Man's pride on his brow-- "The city stands here from the ages of old And as it was then, and as it is now, So will it endure till the funeral knell Of the world be knolled, As Eternity's annals shall tell."

And after a thousand years were o'er, The Shadow paused over the spot once more.

And vestige was none of a city there, But lakes lay blue, and plains lay bare, And the marshalled corn stood high and pale, And a Shepherd piped of love in a vale. "How!" spake the Shadow, "can temple and tower Thus fleet, like mist, from the morning hour?" But the Shepherd shook the long locks from his brow-- "The world is filled with sheep and corn; Thus was it of old, thus is it now, Thus, too, will it be while moon and sun Rule night and morn, For Nature and Life are one."

And after a thousand years were o'er, The Shadow paused over the spot once more.

And lo! in the room of the meadow-lands A sea foamed far over saffron sands, And flashed in the noontide bright and dark, And a fisher was casting his nets from a bark; How marvelled the Shadow! "Where then is the plain? And where be the acres of golden grain?" But the fisher dashed off the salt spray from his brow-- "The waters begirdle the earth alway, The sea ever rolled as it rolleth now: What babblest thou about grain and fields? By night and day Man looks for what Ocean yields."

And after a thousand years were o'er, The Shadow paused over the spot once more.

And the ruddy rays of the eventide Were gilding the skirts of a forest wide; The moss of the trees looked old, so old! And valley and hill, the ancient mould Was robed in sward, an evergreen cloak; And a woodman sang as he felled an oak. Him asked the Shadow--"Rememberest thou Any trace of a Sea where wave those trees?" But the woodman laughed: Said he, "I trow, If oaks and pines do flourish and fall, It is not amid seas;-- The earth is one forest all."

And after a thousand years were o'er, The Shadow paused over the spot once more.

And what saw the Shadow? A city agen, But peopled by pale mechanical men, With workhouses filled, and prisons, and marts, And faces that spake exanimate hearts. Strange picture and sad! was the Shadow's thought; And, turning to one of the Ghastly, he sought For a clue in words to the When and the How Of the ominous Change he now beheld; But the man uplifted his care-worn brow-- "Change? What was Life ever but Conflict and Change? From the ages of eld Hath affliction been widening its range."

Enough! said the Shadow, and passed from the spot At last it is vanished, the beautiful youth Of the earth, to return with no To-morrow; All changes have checquered Mortality's lot; But this is the darkest--for Knowledge and Truth Are but golden gates to the Temple of Sorrow! M.

ANCIENT MUSIC OF IRELAND.

A great and truly national work--the Ancient Music of Ireland--collected and arranged for the piano-forte by Edward Bunting, has just issued from the Dublin press; and whether we consider its intrinsic merits, the beauty of its typography and binding, or the liberal and enterprising spirit of its publishers, they are all equally deserving of the highest approbation. This is indeed a work of which Ireland may feel truly proud, for, though in every respect Irish, we believe nothing equal to it in its way has hitherto appeared in the British empire, and we trust that all the parties concerned in its production will receive the rewards to which they are so justly entitled. To all lovers of national melody this work will give the most intense pleasure; while by those who think there is no melody so sweet and touching as that of Ireland, it will be welcomed with feelings of delight which no words could adequately express. It is a work which assuredly will never die. To its venerable Editor, Ireland owes a deep feeling of gratitude, as the zealous and enthusiastic collector and preserver of her music in all its characteristic beauty; for though our national poet, Moore, has contributed by the peculiar charm of his verses to extend the fame of our music over the civilised world, it should never be forgotten that it is to Bunting that is due the merit of having originally rescued from obscurity those touching strains of melody, the effect of which, even upon the hearts of those most indifferent to Irish interests generally, Moore has so feelingly depicted in his well-known lines:--

"The stranger shall hear thy lament on his plains; The sighs of thy harp shall be sent o'er the deep; Till thy masters themselves, as they rivet thy chains, Shall pause at the song of their captive, and weep."

The merits of this work are, however, of a vastly higher order than those of either of the former collections which Mr Bunting gave to the world; for, while the melodies are of equal beauty, they are arranged with such exquisite musical feeling and skill as to enhance that beauty greatly; and we do not hesitate to express our conviction that there is not any musician living who could have harmonized them with greater judgment or feeling. This volume contains above one hundred and sixty melodies, and of these only a few have been previously made known to the public. It also contains an interesting preface, and a most valuable dissertation on the ancient music of Ireland, in which its characteristic peculiarities are admirably analysed; and on the method of playing the Harp; the Musical Vocabulary of the old Irish Harpers; a Treatise on the Antiquity of the Harp and Bagpipe in Ireland by Samuel Ferguson, Esq., M.R.I.A., full of curious antiquarian lore, and in which is comprised an account of the various efforts made to revive the Irish Harp; a dissertation by Mr Petrie on the true age of the Harp, popularly called the Harp of Brian Boru; and, lastly, anecdotes of the most distinguished Irish Harpers of the last two centuries, collected by the Editor himself. To these are added, Remarks on the Antiquity and Authors of the Tunes when ascertained, with copious indices, giving their original Irish names, as well as the names and localities of the persons from whom they were obtained. The work is illustrated with numerous wood-cuts, as well as with copperplate engravings of the ancient Irish Harp above alluded to. This slight notice will, it is hoped, give our readers for the present some idea of the value and importance of this delightful work; but we shall return to it again and again, for we consider it is no less than our duty to make its merits familiar to our readers, as our music is a treasure of which all classes of our countrymen should feel equally proud, and in the honour of extending the celebrity of which they should all feel equally desirous to participate. P.

SIMPLICITY OF CHARACTER.

Dr Barrett having on a certain occasion detected a student walking in the Fellows' Garden, Trinity College, Dublin, asked him how he had obtained admission. "I jumped over the library, sir," said the student. "D'ye see me now, sir?--you are telling me an infernal lie, sir!" exclaimed the Vice-Provost. "Lie, sir!" echoed the student; "I'll do it again!" and forthwith proceeded to button his coat, in apparent preparation for the feat; when the worthy doctor, seizing his arm, prevented him, exclaiming with horror, "Stop, stop--you'll break your bones if you attempt it!"

TO OUR READERS.

The want of a cheap literary publication for the great body of the people of this country, suited to their tastes and habits, combining instruction with amusement, avoiding the exciting and profitless discussion of political or polemical questions, and placed within the reach of their humble means, has long been matter of regret to those reflecting and benevolent minds who are anxious for the advancement and civilization of Ireland--and the reflection has been rather a humiliating one, that while England and Scotland abound with such cheap publications--for in London alone there are upwards of twenty weekly periodicals sold at one penny each--Ireland, with a population so extensive, and so strongly characterised by a thirst for knowledge, has not even one work of this class. It is impossible to believe that such an anomaly can have originated in any other cause than the want of spirit and enterprise on the part of those who ought to have the patriotism to endeavour to enlighten their countrymen, and thereby elevate their condition, even although the effort should be attended with risk, and trouble to themselves.

It may be objected that some of the cheap publications already and for some years in existence, though in all respects fitted for the introduction of the people, and enjoying such an extensive circulation in the Sister Island as they justly deserve, have never obtained that proportionate share of popularity here which would indicate a conviction of their usefulness or excellence on the part of the Irish people. But the obvious reply to this objection is, that, undeniable as the merits of many of these publications must be allowed to be, none of them were adapted to the intellectual wants of a people, distinguished, as the Irish are, by strong peculiarities of mind and temperament, as well as by marked national predilections--and who, being more circumscribed in their means than the inhabitants of the Sister Countries, necessarily required a stimulus more powerful to excite them. A work of a more amusing character, and more essentially Irish, was therefore necessary; and such a work it is now intended to offer to the Public.

The IRISH PENNY JOURNAL will be in a great degree devoted to subjects connected with the history, literature, antiquities, and general condition of Ireland, but it will not be devoted to such subjects exclusively; it will contain, in a fair proportion, articles on home and foreign manufactures, information on the arts and sciences, and useful knowledge generally.

All subjects tending in the remotest degree to irritate or offend political or religious feelings will be rigidly abstained from, and every endeavour will be made to diffuse Sentiments of benevolence and mutual good-will through all classes of the community.

The matter will also be, to a considerable extent, original--and to render it so, contributions will, be obtained from a great number of the most eminent literary and scientific writers of whom Ireland can boast.

A publication thus conducted, and, as may be confidently anticipated, displaying merits of a very superior order, while it will effect its primary object of conveying instruction to the people generally, will at the same time, it is hoped, be found not undeserving of the support of the higher and more educated classes, while to the inhabitants of Great Britain it will be found extremely interesting, as embodying a large amount of information respecting Ireland, and the manners of her people as they really exist, and not as they have been hitherto too frequently misrepresented and caricatured.

To give to such a work a reasonable prospect of success, it is indeed essential that it should be patronised by all classes; and an appeal is therefore confidently made to the high-minded and patriotic people of Ireland in its behalf, as without a very extensive circulation it could not be given at so low a price as would bring it within the reach of the poorer classes of the country, whose limited means would preclude the possibility of purchasing a dearer publication.

On their own parts, the Proprietors of the IRISH PENNY JOURNAL have only to observe, that no efforts shall be spared to render their Work deserving of general support; and that as their expectations of immediate success are not extravagant, they will not be deterred, by temporary discouragements in the commencement of their undertaking, from persevering in their exertions to establish, upon a firm basis of popularity, a publication of such merit in itself, and so essential, as they conceive, to the improvement and advantage of the people of Ireland.

The IRISH PENNY JOURNAL will be published every Saturday morning at the Office of the GENERAL ADVERTISER, Church-lane, College-green. It will be printed upon fine paper and each Number will be embellished with at least one wood-cut Illustration of high character as a work of art; and in point of quality as well as quantity of letter-press, it will be inferior to no Publication of the kind that has hitherto appeared.

Printed and Published every Saturday by GUNN AND CAMERON, at the Office of the General Advertiser, 6 Church Lane, College Green, Dublin.

TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES

General: Corrections to punctuation have not been individually noted.

Page 2: skillits corrected to skillets after "and the cleanest of all"

Page 3: eqally corrected to equally after "The housemaid is"