been made acquainted in his boyhood with better examples and subjects for the practice of harmony, had he had access to the works of the writers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, which, in his time, were sealed books, we might have now to record and speak of a much higher style of composition than that which he left behind him. His genius for melody did nearly all for him; art but comparatively little. It has often struck us as remarkable, that while Ireland has given to the world men who have distinguished themselves in every department of art, science, and literature, she has produced so few musicians: but when one comes to consider whythis should be the case in a country whose people are nationally musical, the cause can be readily traced to the absence of a sound and theoretic school, and to the want of models, by the study of whose compositions a foundation might be laid for the formation of a pure and refined taste. Painting has long had this advantage; and now in our Schools of Design progress will be made in art, because models are provided from which the pupils may see and draw perfection. Ought not music to be similarly dealt with? and although she may not be deemed entitled as a science to the fostering care of Government, yet still she should not be neglected by those who profess to love her. An effort has been made in Dublin to establish an Academy of Music, and we rejoice to say that there are among the members of our numerous musical societies some who have devoted themselves to the foundation of such an institution. If it only obtain the support it deserves we may yet hope that we shall have to boast of musicians whose fame will be derived from their association with, and instruction in, an Irish academy, not merely as instrumentalists, to which the efforts of the Society we have alluded to are at present confined, but as singers whose services would be sought after and properly estimated. What effect such a system of instruction, given by the best masters, would have in the improvement of our cathedral music, can be easily understood. But we must now say a word of Sir John's social character, and tell one or two anecdotes to illustrate it. He was very convivial in his habits, and now and then was wont to take more than would be considered quite prudent in these sober times; but whenever he did exceed, he was always good-humoured and harmless in his cups. Dining on one occasion with some musical friends, among whom were Spray and Magrath, he became so Bacchi plenus that it was deemed expedient to put him on a sofa, in order to give him an hour's sleep before going to a concert which was to take place that evening. After some time his friend Magrath got up from the table to see how the prostrate knight was getting on, and having satisfied himself that he was progressing towards sobriety, he turned round to one of the party, and remarked, that he didn't think Stevenson had such a good pair of legs. "They are a good pair, my dear Terry," said Sir John (who was all this time supposed to have been fast asleep), "but hang them they won't walk."

He was very fond of theatricals, and though his name does not appear among the corps dramatique of the Kilkenny private theatre, he gave his aid there on more than one occasion in getting up musical pieces, and if we mistake not, sang in the mask of Comus, which was done in the season of 1812.

In masquerades and fancy balls, which in his time were so much in vogue, he used occasionally to take a part. So late as 1818, we find him one night in the full enjoyment of one of these joyous scenes :—

"A group of Bacchanals" (says the Dublin Journal, May 21, 1818), "led by the merry Čomus, attracted universal observation. Their costume was fanciful and beautiful, and in strict adherence to the dramatic taste with which this party is usually represented. They looked like the sons of jollity and revelry, though they gave very delightful specimens of their being the sons of harmony also. The group consisted of Sir J. Stevenson, and Messrs. M'Caskey, Eccles, R. Dixon, Townsend, C. Shannon, J. Armit, A. M'Clean, H. Townsend, Robinson, Master Attwood, &c.; the latter personated the jolly god Bacchus, and was seated upon a tun, decorated with flowers and various emblems of the sylvan deities. The tun being placed upon a car suitably ornamented, and to which were attached cords decked out with becoming gaiety, Bacchus was drawn by his votaries round the various rooms of the Rotundo, and the progress of the procession was marked by—.

"Tipsy dance and jollity,

Midnight shouts and revelry.'

The group stopped occasionally in different parts of the rooms, and sung a number

of glees, appropriate to what it represented, in admirable style and with very beautiful effect. Due homage and respect was paid by the party to his Excellency the Lord Lieutenant and the Countess of Talbot; they stopped at different times of the night, immediately in front of the seats occupied by the viceregal party, and performed several glees, much to the gratification of their illustrious auditors."

Sir John was about middle height and of a slight figure, any approach to corpulency in which he looked forward to with great horror. In dress he was most particular and accurate, always appearing in the prevailing fashion. His manner was rather pompous, particularly in his mode of speaking, but in reality he was unaffected and natural. Simple in character, and unsuspicious in disposition, he has been occasionally made the subject of practical jokes, one of which is too good to withhold from our readers. A few days after the death of the Countess of Talbot, who died at Dublin Castle, he received a letter purporting to be from Sir Stewart Bruce, Master of the Ceremonies, requesting the honour of his attendance that evening, to act as head mute at the ceremony of the lying in state of her Excellency's remains. Connecting the invitation in some way with the official position which he held as State composer, he felt complimented by being asked to assist on the mournful occasion; and having studied the most lugubrious expression of countenance before a looking-glass, pro ceeded at the appointed time to the Castle Chapel. Being well-known to the officials, he had no difficulty in gaining admission, and walking up the aisle, he placed himself in a conspicuous position near the coffin. Nothing could be more perfect than his show of grief; and though addressed by one or two of the viceregal staff, who were wondering what could have brought Sir John Stevenson to take a part in the solemn scene, he waved them away with his hand, and resumed the studied position of his mute office. At last he was somewhat startled by getting a good smart slap on the back from Sir Stewart Bruce, who ventured to ask how it was that he was honoured by his presence?

"What do you mean?" said Stevenson; "did you not write me an invitation to act as head mute?"

"Head mute!" almost screamed Sir Stewart, and spite of decorum he was obliged to laugh outright.

Poor Sir John saw at once how it was, and rushed out of the Chapel in agony, shut himself up for a whole week, vowing vengeance if he could only discover the author of the hoax.

One of the few last occasions of his taking part in the enjoyment of social life was at a fete given to Catalani at Leixlip. It was a charming day, and in the beautiful grounds which adjoin the Salmon Leap, was assembled a brilliant and distinguished party to do honour to the great artist. Sir John presided at the festive board, and after dinner called on Catalani for the National Anthem, who at once stood up and sang it with that power and effect which used to thrill the hearts of her audience. "But now Sare John you must compose for us a leetle canon. You vil do Basso; myself Soprano; you (pointing to Miss Ashe), Alto; you, to her sister, Tenore; you, to another, Contra tenore." Stevenson thought for a moment, and then hummed the subject sotto voce to Catalani, who at once took it up, and was instantly joined by the others in the parts she had assigned to them in as sweet and pleasing a composition as ever emanated from Stevenson's fertile mind :—

66 Nay ask not his age when we meet him thus,

As youthful as ever in song and mirth;

His eyes are still bright, and what is it to us,
How many years back they first opened on earth."*

We have now little to add. After having passed a long and honoured life in his native city, living to see his children occupy a position and rank in society of which any man may have been justly proud, he died on the 14th of September, 1833, in the 71st of his age, at the family seat of his son-in-law, the Marquis of

"Bayley's Miniature Lyrics."

Headfort, in the County Meath.* A monument has been erected to his memory by public subscription in Christ Church Cathedral, whose tablet bears the simple inscription "Stevenson," but a more immortal tribute has been paid to him by Moore in the following lines, the last of the Irish Melodies:

Sir John Stevenson had four children. His eldest son, John Andrew, was in the

army and died in Canada. Olivia married Dalton Edward Tuite, Esq., and subsequently was allied to the Marquis of Headfort. Anna married Gustavus Lambert, Esq., of Beauparc, in the County Meath. Joseph, his only surviving child, is Rector of Kells. The Marchioness of Headfort and Mrs. Lambert have been dead some years.

MAURICE TIERNAY, THE SOLDIER OF fortune.

CHAPTER XXIX.

"THE BREAKFAST AT LETTERKENNY."

EARLY the next morning, a messenger arrived from the Cranagh, with a small packet of my clothes and effects, and a farewell letter from the two brothers. I had but time to glance over its contents, when the tramp of feet and the buzz of voices in the street attracted me to the window, and on looking out I saw a long line of men, two abreast, who were marching along as prisoners, a party of dismounted dragoons keeping guard over them on either side, followed by a strong detachment of marines. The poor fellows looked sad and crest fallen enough. Many of them wore bandages on their heads and limbs, the tokens of the late struggle. Immediately in front of the inn door stood a group of about thirty persons; they were the staff of the English force and the officers of our fleet, all mingled together, and talking away with the greatest air of unconcern. I was struck by remarking that all our seamen, though prisoners, saluted the officers as they passed, and in the glances interchanged I thought I could read a world of pathy and encouragement. As for the officers, like true Frenchmen, they bore themselves as though it were one of the inevitable chances of war, and, however vexatious for the moment, not to be thought of as an event of much importance. The greater number of them belonged to the army, and I could see the uniforms of the staff, artillery, and dragoons, as well as the less distinguished costume of the line.

sym

Perhaps they carried the affectation of indifference a little too far, and in the lounging ease of their attitude, and the cool unconcern with which they puffed their cigars, displayed an over-anxiety to seem unconcerned. That the English were piqued at their bearing was still more plain to see; and indeed in the sullen looks of the one and the careless gaiety of the other party, a stranger might readily have mistaken the captor for the captive.

My two friends of the evening before were in the midst of the group.

He who had questioned me so sharply now wore a general officer's uniform, and seemed to be the chief in command. As I watched him, I heard him addressed by an officer, and now saw that he was no other than Lord Cavan himself, while the other was a well-known magistrate and country gentleman, Sir George Hill.

The sad procession took almost halfan-hour to defile; and then came a long string of country cars and carts, with sea chests and other stores belonging to our officers, and, last of all, some eight or ten ammunition wagons and gun carriages, over which an English union jack now floated in token of conquest.

There was nothing like exultation or triumph exhibited by the peasantry as this pageant passed. They gazed in silent wonderment at the scene, and looked like men who scarcely knew whether the result boded more of good or evil to their own fortunes. While keenly scrutinising the looks and bearing of the bystanders I received a summons to meet the General and his party at breakfast.

Although the occurrence was one of the most pleasurable incidents of my life, which brought me once more into intercourse with my comrades and my countrymen, I should perhaps pass it over with slight mention, were it not that it made me witness to a scene which has since been recorded in various different ways, but of whose exact details I profess to be an accurate nar

rator.

After making a tour of the room, saluting my comrades, answering questions here, putting others there, I took my place at the long table, which, running the whole length of the apartment, was indiscriminately occupied by French and English, and found myself with my back to the fire place, and having directly in front of me a man of about thirty three or four years of age, dressed in the uniform of a Chef de Brigade; light haired and blue eyed,