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From the collection of the

7 n

o Prelinger

i a


San Francisco, California

1845 1&+7 1853

I I r| r> A. "} \f

L I L> *\ *~\ i\ t







NOVEMBER, 1851, TO APRIL, 1852.



5 ,




Ambitious Schoolmaster . . . . 307

Analogy 45

Australian California . . . . . . 282

Autumn Trip through Munster, 1, 22, 42,
61,67,90, 106, 118, 138,272

Back Settlement Population .. 141

Backwoodsman hunted by Wolves 366

Baronet's Wife 292

Battle for Life and Death 163, 184, 195,

Bears, Adventures with .. .. 190
Bernicle or Claik Geese . . . . 166
Birch and Broomsticks . . . . 387
Blackberries, Land of . . * . . . . 81

Blighted Troth 201

Blues, The . . 8

Boers' Fete 205

Breed of Englishmen 353

Bridgman, Laura 393

Broken Club . . . . 232

California, Mark Tapscott's Route

to 99, 123

Channing, Dr 1 87

Cheap John 60

Chisholm, Mrs. 149

Circumstances, Force of .. ..401

Collector, The 9

Comfort versus Muddle . . . . 305

Competition 407

Cooking for a Husband . . . . 29
Courage and Endurance .. ..145

Cousin Lucy 390

Cricket Match 102

Cuts at Yankees 113

Deal gently with the Erring . . 14

Diamond Dust 16, 64, &c.

Doctor Knowall 415

Don't Care! 127

Dream of the Weary Heart . . .122

Drill 17

Durham and Neville's Cross . . 38

English in Shanghae . . . . 308
Esther; A Tale 250

Facetiae of Despotism .. ..147

First Sorrow 229

Floral Symbols . . . . 26, 35

Frog Prince 151

Fuller, Sarah Margaret . . . . 338

Getting up behind 397

Go Ahead ! 334

Good and Evil of Praise . . . . 193
Goodness and Goodnature .. ..153
Government and People . . . . 289
Great Men Moments of Composi-
tion 374

Head of the Family 361

House of Lords and Commons . . 97

Influence of Dress . . 207

It will Do !

Keep him out !
Kitto, Dr.

. 191

. Ill
. 409

Lady hi the Garden 116

Lady's Voyage round the World . . 295

Laird's Watch 330

Lamplightingj or, Glimpses of

Poetry . . 227, 243, 278, 313, 325

Land of Blackberries 81

Lawyers' Wives 235

Leaves from the Diary of a Law
Cterk :

Diamond Necklace 260

Edward Drysdale 321

Malvern versus Malvern . . . . 403
LeisureHours How are they spent ? 327
Lending Libraries for the People . . 360
Lighthouse, Visit to a . . . . 10

Little Daffy downdilly 301

Liverpool to New York . . . . 157

Lowell the Poet 412

Luggage, Philosophy of .. .. 161

Machines and Men 177

March of Civilization 254

Mark Tapscott's Route to California 99,


Martin, Sarah 385

Mechanics' Institutes . . . . 86

Midnight Mower 178

Miracle of Life 49

Miser of Harrow Weal Common . . 364
Money- Value of Education . . . . 333

Mother Holle 88

Munster, Autumn Trip through 1,22,42,

61,67,90, 106, 118, 138,272

Musical Corner, 78, 142, 207,!.271, 333, 382

Music in the House 209

My Mother : 371

Neville's Cross and Durham . . 38

Newspapers 258

Nothing like Leather .. ..239

Officious Bird 234

Old Doctor's Opinion on Woman's

Dress 33

Old Man and his Grandchild . . 24

Orinoco in a Storm 343

Our Holiday 4

Our Pupils 355

Parisian Police Anecdote . . . . 269

Passions of Animals 211

Penny a Day What it can do ..311

Philosophy of Luggage .. .. 161

Pink Satin Dress 237

Poetry and New Poems . . . . 299

Poor Genteel Women . . . . 1 73

Pouchkine, Alexander . . . . 358

Probation by Chess 275

Progress of Physiological Science . . 266

Proverbs, Old English County . . 369


Queries, Catalogue of

Railways in London 378

Recollections of some Familiar Ac-
quaintances .. ..197

Richter, Jean Paul .. .. 316

Rosa and Etty . . . . . . 40

Rossini, Gioacchino . . . . 11

Russian Brothers . . . . 247

Russians.. .. .. ..169

Sacred Poetry of Scotland . . . . 253
Scott's (Patrick) Poems . . . . 171
Seven Trees ; Christmas Story . . 129
Shanghae, English in . . . . 398

Short Notes :

Assurance of Railway Servants 220
Baths and Washhouses . . 286

Cottage Homes 77

Drawing and Modelling . . 286

Emigration 221

Fat People 126

National Progress . . . . 285

New Notions 77

Partnership, Law of .. ..221

Quarantine 287

Spelling Reform 220

Tea M anufacture . . . . /8

Thought and Feeling .. ..127

Water 125

We do not know each other . . 285
Singing Rooms and Casinos . . 265

Slave Hunts of Dar Wadey, &c. . . 337
Small Talk Chit-Chat .. ..225

Soap and Water 382

Soldier's Love 84

South Foreland Light and Subma-
rine Telegraph 6s

Spain as it is 379

Sterling, John 57, 75

Stirring the Fire 257

Stolen Bank Notes 214

Story of Titian Vecelli . . . . 51

St. Pierre, Bernardin, Three Visitors

of .. 348

Submarine Telegraph, Second Visit 2/3
Summer Songs 109

Titian Vecelli, Story of .. .. 51
Too Late! 412

Umbrellas ..28

Vocation of the Poet 93

Washing Out 203

White Mill, The 70

Who knew best? 19

Will 396

Windows and Window Curtains .. 181

Wives of great Lawyers . . . 235
Woman's Dress, an old Doctor's

Opinion on 33

Young Idea Female Education
Young Women in the Colonies




Page Page Page

Anecdote of the Dog

. . 304 Hymn to Old Age wanted

352 Rich and Poor



.. 176

Art and Fortune

.. 208 Internal Monitor

112 Spirit of the Age


Stays and Corsets


Beauty everywhere

335 Jests


Beauty natural to Woman . .

.. 255

Teaching of Women


Bernard Barton

. . 192 Love and Constancy

272 Things lost for ever


Business of Life

. . 80 Lovers

336 Thinness of Leaf Gold


Tiger frightened by a Mouse

287 ;

Cervantes, Moliere, Shakspere
Chantrey at the City Feast . .
Childhood's Quick Apprehension
Cultivate a Genial Nature . .

384 Marriage
.. 320 Married Life
3 80 Modern Poetry

o j Trifles

112 j


jog True Poet a great gift
27 > 2 Twenty Shillings a year saved by
Working Men

Dangerous Gardening 1
Difficulties useful

256 Observation
.' ! 304 Omnibuses in America

Two Gardens of Life
384 visions of the Past


Female Beauty
Female Character

.. 351 Pause
. . 144 Petty Miseries

367 Walking is good
383 What a Wife should be


Fine Writers and Fine Talkers

. . 416 Physiognomy of Nose and Mouth . .

35 1 Where does Wood come from ?



175 Wonderful Man


Georgian Women

79 Press on !



. . 143 Progress of Nations

47 Youth, Manhood, Age




.. 336 Origin of Dimples
. . 80 Out of Sight out of Mind

256 Special Pleading
272 Spring


Bridge of Sighs

.. 352
Poesy and Poets

'Tis not Fine Feathers make Fine

Dead Leaves

. . 208 Primrose to the Poet

64 Time' s Changes .. ..

1 28

Good Works

.. 16
Richard Cceur de Lion . . - . .

To one who said, " We meet at last "
g6 Truth before Wealth


Last Leaf

.. 384


Little Herb- Gatherer

.. 105

Under the Mistletoe


Look up ' . . . .

. . 1 60 Shower The . .


Loyal Heart, to the . .

. . 320 Slave Ship



64 Win and Wear


Musical Murmurs from a Shattered Song of the Red Man

240 Winter's Wild Flowers



.. 400 Song of the Shirt

416 Write soon!




My Birthday
Stanzas The Tomb
Song of the Imprisoned Bird

24 The Acorn

121 "Tis sweet to Love in Childhood . .
121 The Old Mill Stream
121 Stanzas


312 |

. . 25 Say, oh say, you love me ! . .
. . 25 Love's First Dream

Blue-bells in the Shade

.. 25 The Surgeon's Knife

121 My Murray Plaid

312 i

A Summer Sketch

. . 56 Fill my Glass, Boy

122 The Future

313 |

Lines to the Queen of England

. . 57 The Forest Brake
. . 5/ Song of the Goblet

152 Rory O'More
168 Wealth

345 ,


, Sonnet
The Willow Tree
The Smuggler Boy

.. 57 Washington
. . 89 Harvest Song
.. 89 The Pledge
.. 89 Stanzas

200 Song of the Blind One
200 Stanzas
201 Song of the Worm
248 Sunshine

3 7 8 !

Thy Will be Done

. . 90 To the Spirit of Song

249 Stanzas :.








Now publishing, price Two Shillings each, sent postage free,


Also a Second Edition of " DEAD LEAVES," A BALLAD.

Published at the Office of ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL. May be ordered of any Musicgellor.

No. 131.]





" WELL," said my uncle, " I like the idea vastly ! It
is true we have been bored enough, lately, with Irish
politics, Irish potatoe disease, Irish emigration, and
other Irish topics, but I should like to see the land
about which we have had so much talk ; and above all,
I should like to see its people. Germany and the
Rhine have grown stale ; Paris is little better than
a cockney suburb ; Italy, Egypt, and even Spain,
have become English highways : Ireland is still fresh
and untrodden ground. It's a settled point, then,
that we take Ireland for our autumn tour."

" Which part of Ireland shall it be? There's
Dublin and Belfast "

" No, no, those are little more than English and
Scotch settlements half Saxon, half Celt. Let's
get among the Milesians, down in Munster. What
say you to Cork, Limerick, and Tipperary ? There
we shall come upon the old blood of the country, and,
I am told, the most fertile lands of Ireland,"

" Well, Munster be it then ! "

I need not describe the journey across England,
and from Holyhead to Dublin, which we reached in
about thirteen hours from London. I confess, the
first appearance of Dublin surprised me. I had seen
no city superior to it. Its streets are superb, and
its public buildings magnificent. Its thoroughfares
are bustling with life. Sackville Street and the Quays
are matchless. But alas ! in the one you find a large
admixture of squalor with wealth; and along the
other, you see but few evidences of the healthy stir
of commerce. The first vessel we saw along the
Quays was the Wave, nearly opposite the deserted
Custom-house, a Custom-house without Customs.

" A fine vessel, sir," said my uncle to a sailor stand-
ing on board.

" She is, indeed ; the finest emigrant ship sailing
from Dublin."

" An emigrant ship ! And is such the use to which
your finest vessels are put ?"

"Troth, an' it is, sir. Dublin exports nothing but
cattle, butter, and emigrants. But emigrants are
the staple article now ; emigration beats the cattle
_and butter trade hollow."

" The cattle and butter to England, and the emi-
grants to America ? Isn't that the way of it ?"

" It is, sir. Before, the people went over to
England to look after the cattle and the butter, and
perhaps to get a share of them ; but now they nearly
all go to America."

Along the Quay were several young men and
women, well clad, evidently in holiday dress. We
found them to be emigrants respectable peasants,
the very bone and sinew of the country.

" So, you are leaving old Ireland," said I to a young
man who had stepped on shore again, after seeing
some boxes safely deposited on board.

" I am, sir ; about three hundred of us sail to-
morrow for America, in the Wave she's a slow ship,
but a safe one."

" And why do you emigrate ? "

" Why ? Because I have the means of going a
brother in America has sent money enough home to
take out myself and my sister. No Irishman will
stay in Ireland now, who has the means of leaving it."

" Yet, this is a rich country, beautiful and fertile."

"Ay, a beautiful, green laud, sir, but cursed
cursed in its landlords, its laws, its potatoes, and its
all. We are flying from Ireland at the rate of a
thousand a day, and remittances are coming into the
country at the rate of about ten thousand pounds a
week, from our relations in America, to help us to
fly thither. In ten years more we shall have nearly
left the country altogether to you English, to do with
as you will."

And the young man turned away, to join his sister
who was near at hand.

"Well," said my uncle, "there must be some
terrible evil beneath all this. The sight of that emi-
grant ship makes me almost heart-sick. To think of
thousands of people flying from their old homes, and
from the land they love, to brave unknown perils and
hardships ! It has a bad look, and indicates some-
thing rotten in the State."

We hailed a carman. Cars run along every street
in Dublin ; they are the popular mode of convey-
ance for all who can afford to pay for them ; they
are light, convenient, and cheap. You leap up on
one side, your friend on the other, and away drives
the car, at a trot or a gallop, as you choose.

"What's the fare for an hour's drive ?"

"A shilling an hour, yer honour."


"Well, drive us through thebest streets of Dublin."

"I will, yer honour," said the carman, and away

we went. Along the noble Quay, up Sackville Street,

past the Post-office, past the Lying-in Hospital, then

up the hill, through many fine streets and squares.

"See there, sir," said the carman, "these fine
houses, that you now see standing empty, were all
occupied by the lords and gentry of Ireland in the
grand old times."

" The grand old times ! When were they ? The
houses seem comparatively modern, and are certainly
very handsome."

" Ah, yer honour, I mean before the Union, when
we had a Parliament of our own down there in College
Green. They've turned our Parliament House into
a rag-shop, you would see."

" A rag-shop ! Why, I thought it was the principal
office of the Bank of Ireland ?"
" An' so it is, yer honour ! "

" Ah ! I see," said my uncle ; " by rags you mean
Bank-notes. Well, that's one definition of a paper
issue ! "

We drove down the Quays, past the noble Four
Courts the Irish halls of justice, certainly one of the
finest buildings of the kind in Europe then across
Carlisle Bridge again, and along Grafton Street.

"And this is your old Parliament House ?" said I,
pointing to the noble building now used as the Bank
of Ireland. "It is not the first time that a temple,
destined for other usea, has been taken possession of
by the money-changers."

"They must be drove out, yer honour/' said the
carman, "if it isn't too late."

I found " too late " was ever on this poor fellow's
lips, when alluding to any of the popular measures
for the regeneration of Ireland ; and I afterwards
found the same expression, uttered in a tone of deep
melancholy, by Irishmen, wherever I went.
" And this fine building here what is that ?"
" That's Trinity College, and a noble place it is, all
round full of professors and libraries. I've known it
this thirty year. It's a mighty grand place, your

And BO we drove on. These fine streets, it must
be admitted, have a very English look, and the names
over the doors of the shops, especially of the larger
ones, are many of them English and Scotch. Indeed,
while in Dublin, we saw posted up against the walla
many flaring posters denouncing these " Monster

Merrion Square, so widely known as containing the
house wherein the great O'Connell dwelt, is a remark-
ably handsome square, though I perceived that many
of its houses were untenanted. Among others, the
house which O'Connell occupied had stuck in the
window a notice " To Let."

"They are all going," said the driver. "The rich
won't live in Dublin now, and they leave it to the

Cr, who can't get out of it. Our lords and gentry
e all gone. The Duke of Leinster's fine house
there, is now a Museum. You see how it is, your
honour ! "

We had now driven back to a part of the city
higher up the Quay, along which we were proceeding.

"Now, look there," said my uncle, pointing to a
large printed bill at a shop door, in a narrow street.
" That's something curious."

The bill announced for sale within, at BO much a
score, " The Old Established Howth Oysters," under
the motto of " Ireland for ever ! " On the opposite
side of the street was a rival shop, with the placard
outside of, "Erin go Bragh The Real Original
Clontarf Oysters for sale here."

"Then," said my uncle to the carman, "have the
Saxon oysters come to your shores, to compete for the

honour of occupying Dublin stomachs, that the ' old
established, ' and the ' real original ' oysters are setting
up their cry of ' Erin go Bragh ?'"

" May be they are, your honour ; for if there's any
good going here, the Saxon 'a sure to be in for the
largest share of it."

"Erin go Bragh oysters ! It looks very like 'In I
the name of the prophet, Figs ! ' "

"Ah, here's another curious bill," said I, pointing
to a wall of boards stuck over by posters. " Let us
get down and read these."

I confess to a partiality for the literature of dead
Walls everywhere. Nothing gives one a better in-
sight into the political movements, the commercial life,
and the social state of the people, than the placards
addressed "to the million," which are stuck up along
the public thoroughfares. What did we see here,
then ? First, there was a flaming bill, headed " Ire-
land for ever ! " containing an address beginning,
'* Fellow-countrymen! The public mind is in a state
of great excitement, and very naturally so, in conse-
quence of the afflicted state of Ireland, the Monster
House Monopoly, the Irish Manufacture Movement,
&c., &c., all of which require a |very dispassionate
consideration." After such an introduction, you
would expect the promulgation of some grand plan
of national amelioration some mighty projection of
philanthropy or benevolence ; but no the writer
merely goes on to announce that "a Capital Break-
fast may be had at No., Street for 4d., and a j

Dinner for 6d. ! "

" It's only the art of puffing got acrogs the Channel,"
Baid my uncle ; " it seems to have come over with the
Saxon, and become native and patriotic, like every-
thing elae here. See, there is the placard of a
'Patriotic Assurance Society.' But what have we
here? A 'Good Samaritan Lodge,' a working class
benefit society, I suppose, 'Registered by Act of
Parliament,' and one of its provisions is, that 'at
the death of each adult, the Holy Sacrifice of the
Mass will be offered for the happy repose of the soul
of the deceased, and of all deceased members of the
Society. Entrance Is., weekly subscription 4d.'
This is surely a new application of the mutual assur-
ance principle ! But come along, we have had enough
of your favourite literature of the dead wall, though
I admit it is quite as worthy of perusal as much that
issues from the bookshop."

" Now, drive us through the poorest parts of the
city, Mr. Driver, and let us see what there is beneath
all this fair outside."

"Yes, sir ; shall I drive you through the Liberties ?"

" By all means I suppose it is quite safe?"

" .Ah yes, safe enough, your honour, though they're
very poor people."

We drove up the hill from the south bank of the
Liffey, towards St. Patrick's Cathedral, which stands |
on a fine site, though it is a miserable building, fast
going to decay, notwithstanding its large revenues.
Half of it is in ruin, and the remainder is fast follow-
ing. The only things in it worth looking at (and
there is little in it worth hearing, except the chanting),
are the busts of Swift and Curran both very fine.
As we drove up the narrow street towards the Ca-
thedral, the squalid poverty of Dublin began to open
out before us. We saw before us a population,
apparently little, if at all, above the condition of
beggars. Half-clad children, squalid, barefooted
women, ragged and dirty men, filled the thorough-
fares. A sickly stench pervaded the narrow, crooked
streets. The shops were as mean and poverty-stricken
as the people ; many of them repositories of old
worn-out stuffs old clothes, old furniture, old rags,
old locks and bolts, old scraps of all kinds, and two
of them we observed were devoted to old car- wheels !


Many of these places are a kind of booths, open to
the street ; and on the pavement, in front, ragged
women and children sat basking themselves, "dis-
coorsing" together. The streets there are noisy with
talk. Womens' heads protruded from the holes along-
side the pavement, which are the openings of cellar-
dwellings, often packed with miserable occupants
the one opening in the cellar-hole generally serving
for both door and window. Other unwashed heads
were projecting from the sashlesa windows over-head,
within which you might see the blackened walls of the
apartment, sometimes full of occupants ; and along
the street itself were squatted numerous groups, all
in rags, all poor, all destitute ; and yet nearly all
talking, and apparently all happy ! As we drove up
the street leading to the Cathedral, a little ragged
boy, seemingly out of sheer fun, threw himself along
ihe pavement in a succession of summersets, almost
keeping pace w r ith the car ; and the other ragged
youngsters about him laughed and joked at his
agility. Some of them were as nearly destitute of
clothing as it was possible to be, without being
naked ; and their skins seemed not to have known

"Really," said my uncle, "I don't think I ever
saw in my life before, such a mass of poverty crowded
into one place ; but, after all, it seems only poverty,
it is not misery. There is contentment on those faces,
on many of them merriment and gladness. It is really
very extraordinary."

" Ah, it's the light heart and the light purse they
have, your honour," said the carman; " but there's
misery too in the back streets about here poor
starving creatures, God help them ! "

"Are there many streets as bad as this, where the
population is as wretched?"

"Ay, hundreds, sir half Dublin is as poor as
that" pointing to a squalid group squatted in the sun.

"Well, who need wonder that the Irish people are
flying out of their country ? If it does nothing better
for them than that, why, the sooner they wipe its
dust off their feet, the better."

"Yes, your honour, they're all going it's only the
means they want. Ireland 'g no longer for the Irish.
The curse of God, or of Cromwell, is on our country."

" Well, now, we've seen enough of thig drive us
back to Sackville Street, my good fellow."

"I will, sir; but first let me take you through
Weavers' Square It's close at hand."

We drove on, and passed through the deserted
quarter. Some sixty years ago, the place was busy
with the noise of the loom and the shuttle ; now it is
silent. The windows of many of the tall houses are
dismantled, and the streets are desolate. Like every-
thing else in Ireland, except poorhouses and barracks,
the place is going to ruin and decay.

" There is no weaving done here now 2" I asked.

" Next to none, sir ; the people are ruined out :
the English have taken all our trade away."

"How is that?"

" We haven't fair play, sir. It's bad laws has done
it all. It was not so when we had a Parliament of
our own."

" Bad laws ! why, there are no laws against Irish
weaving, nor Irish manufacture of any kind. If you
have lost your trade, it must be because you have not
worked to keep it. If the English make better and
cheaper articles for your Dublin markets, and Irish
people prefer buying them, why blame bad laws,
which have nothing to do with the matter ? But the
trade 's gone that's clear ; and it's a bad business for
your poor people, I admit."

" It is, sir ; and we've looked long enough for the
good old times back again."

"Ay, but longing won't do," said my uncle, "you

Dublin people must set to work in good earnest, else
the good times won't come."

" It's too late, sir. Ireland 's clean ruined, and
there's nothing left for us but to quit it."

We found the same hopeless feeling on the part of
the people everywhere prevalent. Hope seemed to
have taken adieu of them, and their thoughts were all
across the Atlantic, where they wished to be. Many

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