Part 2

All stared, and most laughed heartily; but what was of more consequence to poor Tim, his arm was fiercely seized, and he was stopt short in the midst of his loyalty by an angry demand “if he could play _no_ quadrilles? Not ---- or ----?” and the names of a dozen quadrilles and waltzes were mentioned, that the unfortunate minstrel had never heard of in all his days and travels! In his dire extremity be commenced “the Boyne,” when at the instant some person called the lady of the house. The name seemed a _Catholic_ one--a sudden ray of joy shot through his frame to his fingers’ ends, and from thence to his pipes, and poor “Patrick’s Day” was the result. A kind of jigging quadrille was then danced by the least fastidious and better humoured of the party; the _first_ top couple, superfine exquisites!--the lady an importation from London, and odorous of “Bouquet a-la-Reine,” and the gentleman a perfect “Pelham,” from the aristocratic arch of his brow to his shoe-tie--having retreated to their seats with looks and gestures of horror and disgust, quite unnoticed by Tim Callaghan, who bore himself with all the dignity of a household bard of the olden time, in his element, playing his own favourite tune, and _quollity_ actually dancing to his music! It _was_ a great day for the house of Callaghan!

Well! as there seemed nothing better to be had, “Patrick’s Day” continued in requisition, now as a quadrille, now as a country-dance, by all who preferred motion to sitting still, before and after supper, till at last every one was weary of it, and a general vow was made to drop the “Day” and take the “Boyne,” and endeavour to move it as we best could. By that time, too, our piper seemed most heartily tired of his patron saint, and having quaffed his fourth full-flowing goblet, appeared to be rather inclined for a doze than to renew his melody. But he was roused up by our worthy host, who, good, gay old man! was the very soul of cheerfulness.

“For pity’s sake, piper,” said he, “try to give us something that we can foot it to! I was not in right mood for dancing to-night till now. If you be an Irishman, look at the pretty girl that is to be my partner for the next dance, and perhaps her eyes may inspire even _you_, you drowsy fellow, with momentary animation, and perform a miracle on your pipes!”

Short as this address was, and gaily as it was uttered, it had no other effect on our piper than administering an additional soporific.

While the old gentleman was speaking, the drowsy god was descending faster and faster on Tim Callaghan. He dozed and was shaken up.

“What does yez want?” growled he at length. “What the d--l does yez want?” looking as if he would say,

“Now my weary lips I close; Leave me, leave me to repose.”

“Music! music!” said our host, laughing. “Any sort of music, any sort of noise,” and he left the piper and took his place amongst the dancers.

Tim mechanically fumbled at his pipes, while the gentlemen busied themselves in procuring partners. There was silence for some seconds. “Begin, piper,” called out our host.

“Out ov fashin,” muttered Tim in broken half-finished sentences; “but--I’ll--give--yez--one--as--good----;” and a long, a loud reverberating _snore_ at the instant made good his promise of music almost as harmonious as the sounds elicited from his bagpipe!!

Imagine to yourselves, ye who can, the scene that followed. The salts-bottle and perfumed handkerchief of the _exquisites_ were in instant requisition, as if they felt sensations of fainting! the nervous started as if a pistol went off at their heads, and those who bore the explosion with fortitude joined in a chorus of laughter, increased to pain when it was perceived that the Inimitable, noways disturbed or alarmed, prolonged his repose, and agreeably to the laws of music, and in excellent taste, bringing in his _nasal_ performance as a grand _finale_ to each resounding peal!

“Now,” observed the friend who had answered for me at a critical crisis, “has not Tim Callaghan made his own panegyric? Has not his merit spoken for itself? What a figure our inimitable piper would have cut, had we ushered him in with a flourish of trumpets!”

When the cachinnatory storm had subsided, and when all considered that their unrivalled musician had had enough of slumber, he was once more aroused, to receive his well-earned guerdon, when the following colloquy commenced:--

“Pray, piper, what is your name?” demanded the master of the house, with all the gravity of a magistrate on the bench, and drawing forth his tablets.

“E--ah? Why, Tim Callaghan.”

“Ha! Tim Callaghan (writing), I shall certainly remember Tim Callaghan! I suppose, Tim, you are quite celebrated?”

“E--ah?”

“I suppose you are very well known?”

“Why, those that knowed me _wanst_, knows me agin,” quoth Tim Callaghan.

“I do believe so! I think I shall know you at all events. Who taught you to play the pipes?”

“One Tim Hartigan, of the county Clare.”

“Had he much trouble in teaching you?”

“_He_ thrubble! I knows nothin’ ov _his_ thrubble, but faix I well remimber me own! There is lumps in my head to this very day, from the onmarciful cracks he used to give it when I wint asthray.”

“Ha! ha! ha! Oh, poor fellow! Well, farewell, Tim Callaghan!--pleasant be your path through life; and may your fame spread through the thirty-two counties of green Erin, till you die surfeited with glory!”

“Faix, I’d rather be _surfeited_ wid a good dinner!” quoth Tim Callaghan, and made his exit.

For a couple of years I quite lost sight of Tim, and I began to fear that he had evanished from the earth altogether “without leaving a copy;” but, lo! this very summer, that “bright particular star” appeared unto us again, with a strapping wife, and a young Timotheus at his heels--a perfect facsimile of its father, nose, sleepy eyes, shovel feet and all; and all subsisting, nay _flourishing_, on _three_ tunes and their unrivalled “_varry-a-shins_!”

M. G. R--.

[1] Fact! He composed and spoke the verses as I give them.

* * * * *

THE DEAD ALIVE.--In my youth I often saw Glover on the stage: he was a surgeon, and a good writer in the London periodical papers. When he was in Cork, a man was hanged for sheep-stealing, whom Glover smuggled into a field, and by surgical skill restored to life, though the culprit had hung the full time prescribed by law. A few nights after, Glover being on the stage, acting Polonius, the revived sheep-stealer, full of whisky, broke into the pit, and in a loud voice called out to Glover, “Mr Glover, you know you are my second father; you brought me to life, and sure you have to support me now, for I have no money of my own: you have been the means of bringing me back into the world, sir; so, by the piper of Blessington, you are bound to maintain me.” Ophelia never could suppose she had such a brother as this. The sheriff was in the house at the time, but appeared not to hear this appeal; and on the fellow persisting in his outcries, he, through a principle of clemency, slipped out of the theatre. The crowd at length forced the man away, telling him that if the sheriff found him alive, it was his duty to hang him over again!--_Recollections of O’Keefe._

This bird, hitherto known in Great Britain only as an occasional and rare visitant, has now been added to the Fauna of Ireland--one of a pair seen between Shannon Harbour and Shannon Bridge having been shot in the month of May of the present year, by Walter Boyd, Esq. of the 97th regiment, and presented by him to the Natural History Society of Dublin. It has been stuffed by Mr Glennon of Suffolk Street, who continues to gratify the lovers of natural history by a free inspection of it.

The Little Gull was first noticed with certainty as a British bird by Montague, who, in the Supplement to his Ornithological Dictionary, published in 1813, described an immature specimen, the plumage being that of the yearling in transition to its winter garb. The Irish specimen, on the contrary, is invested with its full summer plumage, as described by Temminck. The head and upper portion of the neck are black; the lower portion of the neck and under parts of the body are white, and at first exhibited a rosy tint, which as is usual quickly faded after death; rump and tail white; upper parts pearl grey, the secondaries and quills being tipped with white; legs and toes bright red; bill of a reddish brown, rather than of the deep lake of Temminck, or arterial blood-red of Selby; its length ten inches, or somewhat more than one-half of that of the blackheaded gull (_Larus ridibundus_), its nearest congener.

Little has been added to the history of this bird as briefly given by Temminck as follows:--“It inhabits the rivers, lakes, and seas of the eastern countries of Europe; is an occasional visitant of Holland and Germany; is common in Russia, Livonia, and Finland; and very rarely wanders to the lakes of Switzerland. It feeds on insects and worms, and breeds in the eastern and southern countries.”

In America the Little Gull was noticed on the northern journey of Sir John Franklin, and it is numbered by Bonaparte amongst the rarer birds of the United States--rendering it probable that the American continent includes also its breeding habitats. To this we may reasonably add--considering the state of plumage of the Irish specimens, the season of their discovery, the inland locality in which they were seen, and the analogy in habits between them and the other blackheaded gulls with which they were associated--a belief and hope that the Little Gull will yet be found to breed on some of the wide expanses of the Shannon, or on the lakes of Roscommon, Leitrim, and Sligo.

To understand the relation of this gull to the other species of the same genus, it is necessary that we should take a rapid survey of the whole family; and happy are we to indulge ourselves in such mental rambling, as many a gladsome reminiscence will be awakened both in our own and in our readers’ minds by the mention of these well-known birds. Few indeed are there who at some period of their lives have not wandered to the sea-side to enjoy the exhilarating influence of the sea breeze, and to revel, perchance, on the rich feast of knowledge which the many strange but admirably formed creatures of the deep must ever present to the inquiring and contemplative mind. To them the sea-mew or gull must be familiar, both in those of the larger species, which are seen heavily winging their way over the waters, or poised in air, wheeling round to approach their surface, and in those of lighter and more aërial form, which, in the words of Wilson, “enliven the prospect by their airy movements--now skimming closely over the watery element, watching the motions of the surges, and now rising into the higher regions, sporting with the winds;” and we may surely add, still in the words of that enthusiastic worshipper of Nature, that “such zealous inquirers must have found themselves amply compensated for all their toil, by observing these neat and clean birds coursing along the rivers and coasts, and by inhaling the invigorating breezes of the ocean, and listening to the soothing murmurs of its billows.” Nor could they fail to notice how admirably the white and grey tints which prevail in the plumage of these birds harmonize with those of air and ocean--a species of adaptation which is manifest in all the works of nature, no colours, however varied, presenting to the eye an incongruous or disagreeable picture, and no sounds, however modified by the throats of a thousand feathered warblers, jarring as discord on the ear. Well may we judge from this that our senses were framed in unison with all created objects, and that the right test of excellence in music, painting, or poetry, is, “that it is natural.”

The genus _Larus_ (Gull) of the early writers included many birds now separated from it--the Skuas, or parasitic gulls; Lestris; the Terns, or sea-swallows; Sterna; and some others--the consequence of increasing knowledge in natural science being the gradual limitation of genera by the use of more precise and restricted characters. All these genera now form part of the family of Laridæ, or gull-like birds--the system of grouping together those genera which exhibit striking analogies in plumage or habits securing the advantages of a natural arrangement, without the danger of that confusion which so often results from loosely defined genera. The tendency is indeed to still further subdivision--the kittiwake (_Larus rissa_) having been made the type of a new genus, Rissa (Stephens), and the blackheaded gulls classed together as the genus _Xema_ (Boië)--the periodic change of the colour of their heads from the white of winter to the black of summer, their more rapid and tern or swallow-like flight, and their inland habits, forming so many striking and apparently natural marks of distinction. To this genus, if finally admitted, will belong the Little Gull (_Xema minuta_).

The term _Larus_ is adopted from the Greek, the ancient Latin name as used by Pliny being _Gavia_. Brisson (1763) applies _Larus_ to some of the larger species, and _Gavia_ to a multitude of others; but there is much confusion in his identifications of species, and the line of separation was not well considered. Modern writers also subdivide the gulls, for the sake of convenience, into two sections--the larger, or those varying from nineteen to twenty-six or more inches in length, the “Goelands” of Temminck; and the smaller, or “Mouettes” of Temminck. But this system of division is imperfect, as it veils the remarkable relation existing between many of the larger and smaller gulls, which should not therefore be separated from each other. This relation was noticed by some of the earlier writers. Willoughby designates under the name _Larus cinereus maximus_ both the herring and the lesser blackbacked gulls; and under that of _Larus cinereus minor_, the common sea-gull. This kind of relation is indeed strikingly displayed amongst British gulls--as in the greater and lesser blackbacked gulls, the Glaucous and Iceland gulls, the herring and common gulls, and, we may add, the blackheaded and little gulls; and it is very probable that further research will show that it exists still more widely.

From Aristotle or Pliny little can be gleaned of the history of these birds. Aristotle states that the Gaviæ and Mergi lay two or three eggs on the rock--the Gaviæ in summer, the Mergi in the beginning of spring--hatching the eggs, but not building in the manner of other birds. Pliny says that the Gaviæ build on rocks, the Mergi sometimes on trees; from which remark it appears probable that the genus _Mergus_ then included not merely the various divers, but also the cormorants, as was formerly conjectured by Turner. Whilst, therefore, the ancient Latin name of gull, _Gavia_, has been entirely removed from modern nomenclature, the word Mergus has obtained a signification very limited in comparison to that which it enjoyed among the ancients, being now applied to the Mergansers alone, although for a time restored by Brisson to the Colymbi, which, as possessing the property of diving in its highest perfection, seem most entitled to retain it, whilst the term _Merganser_ might be judiciously applied to the genus now called by some, _Mergus_, as was done by Aldrovandus, Willoughby, Brisson, and Stephens.

The remarkable differences in the habits of gulls, which form in part the basis of separation, as suggested by Boië in the case of the blackheaded gulls, were early noticed. Old Gesner (1587) says that some gulls dwell about fresh waters, others about the sea; and from Aristotle, that the grey gull seeks lakes and rivers, whilst the white gull inhabits the sea. Every one indeed must have noticed the flocks of gulls which occasionally appear inland, and share with the rooks and other corvidæ the rich repast of grubs which is afforded by the fresh-ploughed land. The common gull (_Larus canus_) is one of those which indulge in these terrestrial excursions; but the blackheaded gulls (_Xema_) select even the inland marshes as their breeding-places. The more truly maritime gulls select islands or rocks, on the surface of which they deposit their eggs, as the kittiwake the narrow ledges of precipitous cliffs, the young being reared with safety, where it would seem that the least movement must plunge them from the giddy height into the abyss below. This beautiful illustration of the power of instinct to preserve even the nestling from danger, is admirably displayed on the northern coast of Mayo, where at Downpatrick Head the whole face of the perpendicular limestone cliff is peopled by line above line of gulls, flying, when disturbed by a stone thrown either from mischievous or curious hand, in screaming flocks from their eggs or young, and as quickly settling upon them again, without, as it were, disturbing the equilibrium of either in a place where to move would be to tumble into destruction. The clamour of the kittiwake is indeed so great on such occasions that it has given rise in the Feroe Islands to a proverb, “noisy as the Rita in the rocks.” The eggs of several species of gulls are used as food, being regularly sought for as such on the coast of Devonshire and other maritime places, but those of the blackheaded gulls are considered the best, and often substituted for plover eggs. The flesh of gulls was considered by the ancients unfit for the food of man; not so by the moderns, who, though probably no great admirers of it, have not entirely rejected it. Hence Willoughby tells us (1678) that “the sea-crows (blackheaded gulls) yearly build and breed at Norbury in Staffordshire, in an island in the middle of a great pool, in the grounds of Mr Skrimshew, distant at least 30 miles from the sea. About the beginning of March hither they come; about the end of April they build. They lay three, four, or five eggs of a dirty green colour, spotted with dark brown, two inches long, of an ounce and half weight, blunter at one end. The first down of the young is ash-coloured, and spotted with black. The first feathers on the back, after they are fledged, are black. When the young are almost come to their full growth, those entrusted by the lord of the soil drive them from off the island through the pool, into nets set in the banks to take them. When they have taken them, they feed them with the entrails of beasts; and when they are fat, sell them for fourpence or fivepence a-piece. They take yearly about one thousand two hundred young ones; whence may be computed what profit the lord makes of them. About the end of July they all fly away and leave the island.” And in Feroe, according to Landt (1798), the flesh of the kittiwake is not only eaten, but considered “well-tasted.” As pets, gulls have always on the sea-coast been favourites, Gesner quotes from Oppian, “That gulls are much attached to man--familiarly attend upon him; and, when watching the fishermen, as they draw their nets and divide the spoil, clamorously demand their share.” In our own boyish experience we knew one, poor Tom, which grew up under our care to maturity, and, unrestrained by any artificial means, flew away and returned again as inclination impelled it--recognising and answering our voice even when flying high in air above. But, alas! like too many pets, he fell a sacrifice to the loss of that instinct which would have led him to shun danger. He joined a crowd of water-fowl on a small lake on the Start Bay Sands. His companions, alarmed at the approach of the fowler, flew unharmed away; but poor Tom, with ill-judged confidence, left the water and walked fearlessly toward the enemy of all winged creatures, who could not allow even a gull to escape, and, alas! he was the next moment stretched lifeless on the sand. Here we shall arrest our pen. Perhaps we have dwelt too long on this interesting genus of birds, and yet we would hope that some of our readers may profit by our remarks, and be led to watch with an inquisitive eye the many animated beings which surround them, and thus to read in Nature’s never-tiring, never-exhausted volume, new lessons of wisdom--new proofs of the exalted intelligence which has created every thing perfect and good of its kind.

J. E. P.

THE CHASE, A POEM TRANSLATED FROM THE IRISH.

OISIN.

O son of Calphruin! thou whose ear Sweet chant of psalms delights to hear, Hast thou ere heard the tale, How Fionn urged the lonely chase, Apart from all the Fenian race, Brave sons of Innisfail?

PATRICK.

O royal born! whom none exceeds In moving song, or hardy deeds, That tale, to me as yet untold, Though far renown’d, do thou unfold In truth severely wise, From fancy’s wanderings far apart: For what is fancy’s glozing art But falsehood in disguise?

OISIN.

O! ne’er on gallant Fenian race Fell falsehood’s accusation base: By faith of deeds, by strength of hand, By trusty might of battle-brand, We spread afar our glorious fame, And safely from each conflict came. Ne’er sat a monk in holy chair, Devote to chanting hymn and prayer, More true than the Fenians bold: No chief like Fionn, world around, Was e’er to bards so gen’rous found, With gifts of ruddy gold. If lived the son of Morné fleet, Who ne’er for treasure burned; Or Duiné’s son to woman sweet, Who ne’er from battle turned, But fearless with his single glaive A hundred foemen dared to brave: If lived Macgaree stern and wild, That hero of the trenchant brand; Or Caoilte, Ronan’s witty child, Of liberal heart and open hand; Or Oscar, once my darling boy, Thy psalms would bring me little joy. If lived, the Fenian deeds to sing, Sweet Fergus with his voice of glee; Or Daire, who trilled a faultless string, Small pleasure were thy bells to me. If lived the dauntless little Hugh, Or Fillan, courteous, kind and meek, Or Conan bald, for whom the dew Of sorrow yet is on my cheek, Or that small dwarf whose power could steep The Fenian host in death-like sleep-- More sweet one breath of theirs would be Than all thy clerks’ sad psalmody.

PATRICK.

Thy chiefs renowned extol no more, O son of kings--nor number o’er; But low, on bended knee, record The power and glory of the Lord; And beat the breast, and shed the tear, And still his holy name revere, Almighty, by whose potent breath Thy vanquished Fenians sleep in death.

OISIN.

Alas! for Oisin--dire the tale! No music in thy voice I hear; Not for thy wrathful God I wail, But for my Fenians dear. Thy God! a rueful God I trow, Whose love is earned by want and woe! Since came thy dull psalm-singing crew, How rapid away our pastimes flew, And all that charmed the soul! Where now are the royal gifts of gold, The flowing robe with its satin fold, And the heart-delighting bowl? Where now the feast, and the revel high, And the jocund dance and sweet minstrelsy, And the steed loud-neighing in the morn, With the music sweet of hound and horn, And well-armed guards of coast and bay? All, all like a dream have passed away; And now we have clerks with their holy qualms, And books, and bells, and eternal psalms, And fasting--that waster gaunt and grim, That strips of all beauty both body and limb.

PATRICK.