and collected a great many trophies, from cuirasses down to buttons and bullets. He picked up himself many little relics, and was fortunate in purchasing a grand cross of the legion of honour. But the most precious. memorial was presented to him by my wife-a French soldier's book, well stained with blood, and containing some songs popular in the French army, which he found so interesting that he introduced versions of them in his "Paul's Letters;" of which he did me the honour to send me a copy, with a letter, saying, "that he considered my wife's gift as the most valuable of all his Waterloo relics."

On our return from the field, he kindly passed the evening with us, and a few friends whom we invited to meet him. He charmed us with his delightful conversation, and was in great spirits from the agreeable day he had passed; and with great good-humour promised to write a stanza in my wife's album. On the following morning he fulfilled his promise by contributing some beautiful verses on Hougoumont. I put him into my little library to prevent interruption, as a great many persons had paraded in the Parc opposite my window to get a peep of the celebrated man, many having dogged him from his hotel.

'Brussels affords but little worthy of the notice of such a traveller as the Author of "Waverley;" but he greatly admired the splendid tower of the Maison de Ville, and the ancient sculpture and style of architecture of the buildings which surround the Grand Place.

He told us, with great humour, a laughable incident which had occurred to him at Antwerp. The morning after his arrival at that city from Holland, he started at an early hour to visit the tomb of Rubens in the Church of St. Jacques, before his party were up. After wandering about for some time, without finding the object he had in view, he determined to make inquiry, and observing a person stalking about, he addressed him in his best French; but the stranger, pulling off his hat, very respectfully replied in the pure Highland accent, "I'm vary sorry, Sir, but I canna speak ony thing besides English."-"This is very unlucky indeed, Donald," said Sir Walter," but we must help one another; for to tell you the truth, I'm not good at any other tongue but the English, or rather, the Scotch." "Oh, Sir, maybe," replied the Highlander, "you are a countryman, and ken my maister Captain Cameron of the 79th, and could tell me whare he lodges. I'm just cum in, Sir, frae a place they ca' Machlin, and ha' forgotten the name of the captain's quarters; it was something like the Laaborer."- "I can, I think, help you with this, my friend," rejoined Sir Walter. "There is an inn just opposite to you, (pointing to the Hotel de Grand Laboreur:) I dare say that will be the captain's quarters ;" and it was so. I cannot do justice to the humour with which Sir Walter recounted this dialogue.'- pp. 336-338.

No sooner has our author dismissed Sir Walter, than off he is for the last time, to the Neapolitan shore, which we have already too frequently visited under his guidance. With many pleasant anecdotes of men and things, we have in these volumes an abundance of common-place and almost puerile narrative, which necessarily must take the lead in fixing a character on this book. It was hardly possible that amidst scenes so various and multitudinous as those which our author experienced, something should not have

occurred that was calculated to fix the attention of the public mind. But the little of this nature which Mr. Gordon has gleaned from his long career in the busy world, makes us regret that such opportunities as he enjoyed, have been turned to such comparatively trifling account, and that they had not fallen to the lot of one who was better adapted than he was to explore the exhaustless field of human nature.

ART. III.—Irish Cottagers, by Martin Doyle, Author of "Hints to small Farmers." 12mo. pp. 137. Dublin: Curry and Co. 1830. WE sincerely wish that we had the power to place a copy of this little work in every cottage in Ireland, and to prevail upon their occupants, male and female, either to read, or have it read for them, two or three times a year. It would be impossible for them, we think, to become acquainted with the simple precepts, the practical and interesting lessons which it contains, without deriving from them immediate and extensive benefit. It comes home to their business and bosoms; it treats of their various employments in the field, the garden, the dairy, and by the fire-side; it speaks to them in kind and familiar language, directed by a good and temperate spirit, and shews them not only what they ought to do, but how they are to do it, in order to obtain the greatest measure of comfort and happiness from their industry.

Mr. Doyle has put forth his work with great modesty, and we dare say he will not be a little surprised that it has attracted attention at this side of the water. But he may feel assured that there are many persons here, who, amidst their own peculiar occupations, often reflect upon the miserable state of the peasantry in Ireland, and some, who, like ourselves, having witnessed that state, feel the most ardent wishes for its amelioration. Who, indeed, can be insensible to this subject, who has read of the dangers which, at this season, either await millions of the Irish poor, or have already fallen upon them in the shape of famine and disease? The accounts from that country assume a more appalling aspect by every succeeding mail, and unless the charitable hearts of Englishmen once more expand for their brethren in the sister isle, its chances of improvement will be embarrassed and postponed for years. There must, indeed, be much that is radically unsound in the habits and relations of the whole race of Irish cottagers, which gives birth to the necessity of thus making appeals to the charity of England, from time to time. These periods of visitation seem to have come round for more than half a century, with a portentous regularity, the causes of which may be easily gathered from the little volume before us. Would we could flatter ourselves with the hope that the remedies pointed out in his own homely manner, by Mr. Doyle, were likely to be soon adopted!

Novelists generally end their labours with a marriage. Our practical philosopher begins his lectures with one, contrary to the advice of Mr. Malthus. It is not indeed so much the pre-disposition of the Irish cottager towards that state, which brings misery upon offspring. The influence of religion, together with the natural inclinations, prompt him to form the union; but it too often happens, that he has no care to provide for its consequences. Our author, who teaches by contrasts, shews by example the different effects which have followed from the marriages of a prudent and an imprudent couple. He relates his tale in the Irish way, and thus has blended amusement with instruction.

"Ah! then, could I be after spaking a few words to you, Peter Brady?" said old Daniel Kinshella, some years ago, to the other, as they were leaving their parish chapel on the Sunday before Shrovetide, and proceeding together in the direction of their homes, which were in the same township.

"To be sure you can, Dan," responded Peter; "and why shouldn't you? Aren't we neighbours, and neighbours' childer, these hundred years and more?

I know 'tis all in civility ?ou a good right to ax me what you plase, when

"I'll tell you, Peter," said Daniel; and if you're not plased, why we won't be any worse friends, I expect, after. My boy Mick has a liking for your daughter Joanny;" (something like a grunt from Peter;)" and so I was thinking, as we're neighbours, and neighbours' childer ourselves, we might knock up a match between them: that's what I wanted to say to you."

Dan," replied Peter," Mick Kinshella is no match for Joanny Brady, barring you mane to give him the biggest half of your little houlding, a couple of cows, and lashings of money besides. The best boys in the parish are after Joanny, I can tell you, because they know I'll give her "

"Ah! then, what will you give her?" so quickly demanded Daniel, as to embarrass, for a moment, his cautious companion, who had no intention whatever of having the depth of his purse fathomed, or of prematurely committing himself in this, or in any other matter of bargain.

"Why, I'll give her penny for penny with you, Daniel Kinshella."

"No," said the other, "that won't do; but I'll tell you what Mick Kinshella shall have, since he's so entirely bothered about the girl. I'll divide the parkeens equally with him, perch for perch, and give him the brindled cow, and the year old breeding sow, and (after a pause) five guineas in gold."

"It won't do, Dan; you must mend your hand."

"Why, Peter Brady, man, you're mighty hard upon me this day, of all blessed days in the year. Where would I get any more, barring a sheep

or two?

"Well, Dan, give me your hand," taking and slapping it on the palm. "Double the five guineas, and it's a match."

Here Peter Brady's hand was seized by his friend, who, giving it a tremendous bang in return, offered, by way of clincher, two guineas more. "Seven guineas, Peter; that's the sum total of what I'll give Mick, provided that you give Joanny the thirty hard guineas you have in the box."

"No; make it the even ten guineas," rejoined Peter," and it's a contract; and I'll give Joanny five-and-twenty guineas in hand."

"Split the difference," sagaciously hinted Dick Doyle, who had just "and let us have a naggin at Pat Colfer's, for there's no luck in a dry bargain anyhow."

come up,

"I won't break your word, Dick," added each of the old boys; so, after a little more hard dealing, when matters were pretty well concluded, they drank something more than one naggin, you may be sure, at Peter Brady's expense, in Pat Colfer's little parlour, without altering the terms already stated, farther than making mutual stipulations, through Dick's management, that Joanny was to receive a bed, and some other articles of furniture, with two geese and a gander, from her father, while it was admitted by the other party, that the marriage money should be paid by the Kinshellas; and, what was of more importance to the young folks, that they should live for the first year, turn about with their parents.

These preliminary arrangements being thus concluded, and the marriage determinately fixed on, it only remained to consult Father Murphy, the aged and respected priest of the parish, as a point of duty; and to submit the matter as an affair of courtesy, (a due proportion of self-interest of course, involved in it,) to Mr. Bruce, the landlord, a gentleman of rank and character, who, a few years before, had left England, where he had been chiefly educated, to reside altogether on his Irish estate, in the vicinity of which he became acquainted with a very charming woman, to whom he soon became united by marriage. From the former, a wedding was almost sure of approval; from the latter, it met no discouragement in this case; and as the young people had long before made up their minds to the match, there was nothing to prevent it from taking place on the succeeding Shrove-Tuesday. It is true that there were a few trifling things to be looked to-beef and mutton, turkeys and geese, chickens and bacon, puddings and pies, whiskey and sugar, and a few bottles of port for Father Murphy, his coadjutor, and the landlord, (whose condescension in promising to appear for an hour or two at the wedding, excited no little vanity in the two families so especially interested), cakes and bread, tobacco and candles, were to be provided; besides petticoats, shifts, caps, shoes, stockings, cloak, bonnet and gloves. However, as there was nearly a day and a half for the buying, killing, scalding, plucking, and cooking, cutting out, stitching, sewing, washing, starching and drying, these necessaries for the inside and the outside; and as Joanny Brady, always prompt and diligent, now laboured with double assiduity, the aforesaid preparations were completed in due time. Fortunately there was no need of an attorney to draw up a settlement; the stipulated fortune was paid into Mick's hands, an hour or two before the priests and the 'squire had arrived, and just as nine or ten pair of young men and women were in view, riding double, and " fiery red with haste" to win the bride's garter. One of the jockeys in this sweepstakes, however, was so intent, as many a greater man has been, on the garter, that he left the companion with whom he started, pillion and all, sprawling on the spot where she had fallen from her seat, and arrived singly at the winning-post; but not having brought up his weight, he was sent back, very properly, for the girl he left behind him. But the secrets of this wedding shall not be disclosed by me. might be extremely entertaining and communicative on this subject, if

I

I thought proper to indulge my humour, and could relate many things which occurred at it; for instance, how, when the cloth was taken off, the plate of cake was handed round, first to the landlord, who took a bit, and laid down a guinea in its stead, and how crowns and half-crowns emulously followed, in contribution to the priest's fees; and how Father Murphy drank a blessing to the newly married couple, in a bumper out of his own bottle, which nobody else presumed to meddle with; and how the bride's heart thumped against her ribs when she got up to dance before the gentlemen, and how gracefully she did "heel and toe," and "covered the buckle," and "cut it acrass; and how Nick Moran's animal spirits evaporated in frequent kicks, introduced among his more regular capers, on that part of his own body which at other times he used for sitting on, and which he would have very decidedly disapproved of any one else saluting in the same manner; and how Tom Duff came for the coadjutor to marry him to Mary Donohoe, although he had promised the day before to have Biddy Doyle, and how Biddy got over her disappointment by taking Pat Whelan, not to let the pairing season pass over, and this the last night of it; and how the coadjutor had afterwards to perform the same ceremony for Mr. Bruce's four dairy-maids and their lads; and how tired both their reverences were from all the duty they had discharged in this way during the two days and nights preceding; and how Father Murphy's watch was an hour slower on this night, just to keep within canonical hours; and how the same accident, as to time, had annually happened at the same hour, for half a century preceding; and how he rode home on his own horse that night, which was remarkable, as he was a very absent man, and usually mounted the first horse that was brought to him, provided that he was a steady, sober-going beast like his own, and somewhat of the same altitude and colour; and how Mick Kinshella, when he was retiring to the bridal bed-room, escaped from the volley of cabbage-stalks which was prepared for him, by cleverly throwing his coat and waistcoat over Nick Moran, who was drunk in a corner of the kitchen, and only roused to sensibility by receiving on his own person the whole discharge of the vegetable artillery which had been designed, according to custom, as a feu de joie for the body of the bridegroom; and many other events of that wedding I could also narrate, if I chose to do so; but I won't disclose a single particular that happened, because, even if I had been there, (and no matter whether I was there or not,) I make it a point of honour to keep all matrimonial secrets to myself. I will, therefore, wish all the party, including you, my dear and respected readers, a good night's rest; and I too will take a nap until the next chapter.'pp. 1-8.

Our author then traces the career of the newly married pair through the first year of their union, which was spent in the erection of a cottage, and in the preparation by the wife of a good supply of strong sheets, and table cloths, and blankets, from her own spinning-wheel. She continued, moreover, in the mean time, to keep her husband's shirts and stockings in good order, and even to increase his store in that respect. Their united fortune, was, under the advice of the good Mr. Bruce, deposited in a savings bank, and although the unavoidable out-goings of the first year