JOHN O'HAGAN. (1822-1890.) JOHN O'HAGAN was born in Newry, March 19, 1822. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and he was barely of age when Davis, Duffy, and Dillon started The Nation newspaper, to the earlier numbers of which he contributed 'Ourselves Alone,' 'Dear Land,' and other notable lyrics, over the signature "Sliabh Cuilinn" (Slieve Cullan, the mountain known as the Great Sugarloaf). became one of the most influential and trusted members of the Young Ireland party, and after a distinguished career at the bar he was appointed by Mr. Gladstone the first judicial head of the Irish Land Commission. He He was a man of great literary and general erudition, and his personal character and charm won for him altogether exceptional respect and regard. Before his thirtieth year a study of Carlyle's writings appeared in The Dublin Review, and made a deep impression on Carlyle himself, as appears from a memorandum published in Froude's Life.' He died Nov. 13, 1890. His last literary work was an admirable translation of the 'Chanson de Roland.' OURSELVES ALONE. The work that should to-day be wrought, The help that should within be sought, Old maxims these yet stout and true- To do at once what is to do, And trust OURSELVES ALONE. Too long our Irish hearts we schooled By dreams of English justice fooled Our hope and strength, we find at last, Aye! bitter hate or cold neglect, No friend, beyond our own green shore, Yet stronger is her trust, therefore, Remember when our lot was worse- "T was long our weakness and our curse In stranger aid to trust. And if, at length, we proudly trod Oh! let its memory be enshrined The foolish word "impossible" Nor flinch in word or tone- DEAR LAND. When comes the day all hearts to weigh, If stanch they be or vile, Shall we forget the sacred debt We owe our mother isle? My native heath is green beneath, My native waters blue, But crimson red o'er both shall spread Ere I am false to you, Dear land, Ere I am false to you. 174 When I behold your mountains bold, I think of all your long dark thrall, We must not weep for you. My grandsire died his home beside, Your hallowed green to wear. Across the main his brothers twain But still they turned, with hearts that burned, Dear land, In hopeless love to you. My boyish ear still clung to hear Of Erin's pride of yore, Ere Norman foot had dared pollute Of chiefs long dead who rose to head Till all my aim on earth became To strike one blow for you. What path is best your rights to wrest, By work or word, with voice or sword, The breast that zeal and hatred steel If death should come, that martyrdom Dear land, Were sweet endured for you. JOHN O'KEEFFE. (1747-1833.) JOHN O'KEEFFE was born in Dublin, June 24, 1747. He was educated by Father Austin, and became a good classical and French scholar. He was at first intended for an artist and studied under Mr. West of the Dublin Royal Academy, but his study of the antique soon gave place to a love of modern comedy and the acting of private theatricals. In the summer of 1762 he went to London for two years, frequenting the playhouses and greatly admiring Garrick. In 1764 he returned to Dublin and shortly after began his career as a player and a dramatic writer. He was engaged by Mossop, the Dublin manager, and continued acting for a dozen years, first in tragedy and afterward in comedy. In 1767 his farce of The She-gallant,' afterward called 'The Positive Man,' was produced by Mossop with success. Some years later he married, and in 1777 removed with his young family to London. Before this time he had written a kind of sequel to Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer,' which he named 'Tony Lumpkin in Town,' and sent it anonymously to Mr. Colman, of the Haymarket Theater. In 1778 the play was produced there with considerable success. O'Keeffe returned to Dublin in the spring of 1779, finished his comic opera of 'The Son-in-Law,' and sent it to Colman. It was produced at the Haymarket in August, 1779, and took the town by storm. It was as successful in Dublin. O'Keeffe soon after moved again to London, and devoted himself entirely to writing plays and farces, which flowed from his pen in quick succession; in 1798 he published a collection containing over fifty pieces. His Dead Alive' appeared in June, 1781, and was closely followed by The Agreeable Surprise,' the last written by his own hand, for he shortly after lost his sight and had to employ an amanuensis. In November, 1781, The Banditti, a Comic Opera,' was given at Covent Garden, and turned out a failure. In March, 1782, The She-gallant,' under the title of 'The Positive Man,' was played at the same house, and in November of the same year 'The Banditti' was successfully revived under the title of 'The Castle of Andalusia.' In the same month The Lord Mayor's Day' saw the light, and in February, 1783, 'The Maid is the Mistress' was performed. Plays followed each other in quick succession, O'Keeffe continuing to write for the stage until 1799. In 1792 he published' Wild Oats, which is considered one of his best plays. During the remaining years of his life several poems, fables, etc., of his appeared in different magazines, and in 1826 he published Recollections of the Life of John O'Keeffe,' in two volumes. In this year he was given an annual pension of one hundred guineas from the King's private purse. After more than forty years of blindness, borne cheerfully and uncomplainingly, he died at Southampton, Feb. 4, 1833. O'Keeffe's Legacy to his Daughters,' a volume of poems and recollections, was published in the next year. A BUDGET OF STORIES. From The Recollections of John O'Keeffe.' NO SNAKES IN IRELAND. So perfectly unknown, even by name, are all venomous reptiles throughout our blessed Erin, that in one of Woodward's pantomimes at Crow Street Theater, amongst the tricks was introduced an enormous serpent, which, in the business of the scene, was to move round the stage. This was effected by grooves, and the machinery gave the carpenters and scenemen a great deal of labor and vexation, for the serpent often stuck by the way. Three or four of these men practicing, but with little success, the best manner of making it glide about, one of them at length vociferated, "I wish the devil would eat this fish once out of this house! we have trouble enough with it, and all to get our good master, Mr. Woodward, plenty of hisses; and he will give us plenty of 'boobies,' and 'blundering idiots,' and 'stupid fools!' The devil burn or drown this great fish, I say." AULD IRELAND. In my early times, all the great outlets from Dublin had, inside the hedges, parallel footpaths with the road; and the stiles, where the hedges divided the fields, were models for stiles all over the civilized world: they were formed thus: three steps, a small flat, and then a perpendicular narrow stone, about a foot high, which you stepped over on the other flat, and then three more steps on the other side, so that the milkmaid might poise her pail upon her head, and cross over the stile without fear of spilling her milk; and the old weary Boccaugh (beggarman), and the poor woman bringing fruits and vegetables to market, might sit down and rest themselves. All through Ireland, whenever they see a good-looking cow, they say, "A fine cow, God bless it!"-except to the human, this is the only animal to which they say "God bless it." In my time there was not one wagon all over Ireland, and no cart above four foot long; the only carriage for goods, etc., was the little car and the one horse: there were no gypsies -no poor-rates-no pawn-brokers; the word village was |