of his whip, he moved on, wishing Mrs Cronin good-evening, and saying, "Oh, thin, wont I airn this one before I have her home to-night!"

Evening began to close in, and still no sign of James. At length a man appeared, driving a donkey-car, at the bottom of which the truant boy lay stretched on some straw. His mother ran out to receive him, and albeit the nerves of Irishwomen in her rank of life are pretty well steeled against fears connected with broken heads and bruised limbs, yet when she saw her son's pale face, and his fair curls matted with blood, escaping from beneath a bandage which was bound tightly round his head, she burst into a passionate cry of grief and terror, not unmixed with rage. The neighbour who had kindly brought him home raised him in his arms, and assisted her to lay him in bed, at the same time saying, "Don't fret yerself, Mrs Cronin, you'll find the boy will be none the worse to-morrow. To be sure 'twas well I found him whin I did, for he was down on the ground, and a boy of the Walshes lickin' him at no rate; but still Jimmy showed the thrue blood, for he kept bating the cowardly spalpeen, that was twice his size, as long as ever he could stand."

"Oh the murtherin' villain, to dar touch my child! Never fear, he'll sup sorrow for it yet."

So saying, she went to prepare some whey for James, who just then opened his eyes, and asked feebly for a drink. Her neighbour wished her good-night, and went home; and she, having settled the sick boy as comfortably as she could, retired to rest with her other children. James passed a sleepless night, and next morning was in a high fever. His mother, in great alarm, sent Daniel with all haste to summon Dr Handley to see him.

III.

Let not our English readers imagine for a moment that the gentleman whom we have mentioned had ever in his life attended a school of medicine or taken out a diploma. He belonged to a class of men who are every day becoming more rare in Ireland, and will probably soon be nearly extinct, owing to the now universal establishment of dispensaries, and the consequent residence in the country of regularly qualified practitioners; but at the time of which we write, the rural population might be said to be totally destitute of licensed medical assistance; for the expense attendant on bringing a physician fifteen or twenty miles into the country was of itself an insurmountable obstacle; besides, that the people in general entertained a strong preju dice against the regular practice, and much preferred their own unlicensed pretenders. Medical advice, such as it was, was offered by three classes of practitioners. The first were the "fairy-men," who undertook to charm away the diseases both

of men and cattle; and although the effect of their prescriptions was of course purely imaginary, yet they were regarded throughout the country with much respect, not unmixed with awe; and if any one got a blast" (the name for every kind of illness whose origin was unknown), these men and their charms were always had recourse to. The second, and most numerous division, were the "old women," who, besides their prescriptive right to usher all the thumping young Paddies into a land of fighting and potatoes, were also called on for advice in various cases of disease. Here, it must be confessed, their practice was often most destructive, being characterised by a bold disregard of the plainest rules in medicine. Turning the head of a patient in typhus fever towards a blazing turf fire, heaping blankets on his bed, and administering copious libations of whisky punch, "to drive the cold from his heart," and which, for fear of any mistake, usually first paid toll at the lips of the good lady herself these formed part of their standing rules. Still, somehow, the patients often recovered, thanks to the everopen door, the wide chimney, and creviced roof, which served to admit plenty of fresh air, and also to the hardy constitution with which the rural Irish are happily endowed.

The "old women," long life to them! still flourish. I very lately, when visiting the district where the scene of our story is laid, met with some amusing specimens of the tribe. They look on the encroachments of the dispensary physicians pretty much as the aboriginal dogs of New Holland regard those of their European brethren, condescending to emulate them to a certain extent, but jealously excluding them, as far as may be, from their lovely sylvan haunts.

The practitioner who was sent for on the present occasion belonged to the third class, who were a degree more learned; men who had picked up a smattering of medical knowledge, and assumed the grave title of "doctor." The doctor was regarded with much respect, and his advice sought on various mattersagricultural, political, domestic, and matrimonial; in fact, in each parish he was usually esteemed second in wisdom only to the priest.

Dr Handley, who held this proud position in the parish of Inchigulah, had formerly been gardener to a gentleman's family. While living in service, he was in the habit of uniting surgical with horticultural employments; and the younger members of his master's family found much amusement in conversing with him. For their edification, he would invent the wildest and most ludicrous adventures, of which he would gravely assure them he had been the hero.

With all this extravagance, he possessed much shrewdness of character, of which I will give an instance. Just before he retired from service, the law forbidding to inoculate with the natural small-pox was passed, and emissaries were sent through

the country to detect and prosecute any who did so. An apothecary from the neighbouring city of Č- came into this dis

trict, and as he was known to Handley's master, he was hospitably received, and entertained at his house. Having strong suspicions that the old gardener was a transgressor, he endeavoured to ascertain the fact by searching inquiries among the country people; but in vain-not a man, woman, or child would inform or give him the slightest clue; and many a time that day did the town Galen find himself humbugged after the most approved fashion.

The next morning, accompanied by one of his host's sons, he went into the garden to try what he could do with the delinquent himself. The old man was busily engaged in digging a border; and, giving one knowing glance of the eye as he returned the apothecary's civil salutation, he quietly continued his employment. "This is a fine morning, doctor.""

"It is indeed, sir; glory be to God!"

"And 'tis fine healthy weather for the country; I suppose there are but few sick persons in the neighbourhood just now?" "I know whosomever 'tis healthy for it agrees wonderful with the caterpillars; bad luck to 'em, if they aren't ating up my early cabbages, just as the Moths and Sandals ate up Julius Casar."

Mr

nothing daunted, returned to the charge. He wanted to establish the fact of the doctor's practising medicine in anyway, hoping afterwards to detect the inoculation business; but Handley was thoroughly up to him, and turned his flank in masterly style. After an immensity of what our old friend, had he lived in the days of Sam Slick, would have termed "soft sawder," had been lavished in vain, the apothecary continued. Now, Dr Handley, I have heard a great deal of your medical skill; in fact you are better known and more esteemed in town than you think, and I should like to have your opinion on a difficult case. Suppose a man came to consult you, affected in such and such a manner" (detailing a variety of imaginary symptoms), "what would you do for him?"

The old gardener stuck his spade in the ground, and leaning his arms on the handle, looked keenly at his questioner. “I'll tell you, sir. If he was a good fellow, I'd do the best I could for him; but if he was a bad fellow, that would talk friendly to your face, and turn agin you afterwards—maybe I wouldn't give him a pill!"

Not another word from the crestfallen apothecary. He turned on his heel and walked off; while his young host, with a loud laugh, exclaimed, "I think, Mr the next time you're ill, you may as well not mind consulting Dr Handley!"

The old doctor had now retired, with the savings of his years of labour, to a neat cottage and small farm about a mile distant from Mrs Cronin's dwelling. Here, as his practice was exten

6

sive, he picked up many small sums among the farmers, together with various fees in kind, consisting chiefly of eggs, butter, meal, and chickens; but he was always ready to prescribe gratuitously for the very poor, by whom he was much beloved. He united a thorough contempt for town-bred physicians to a most comfortable assurance of his own superior skill.

From this digression on an almost extinct class in Ireland, we return to the subject of our story.

IV.

Dr Handley, summoned by Mrs Cronin, soon appeared at her son's bedside. Having bled the boy pretty copiously, he ordered a fomentation of simples to be applied to his temples; and whether his prescriptions were secundum artem or not, certain it is that after a few days his patient became convalescent. The mother, who had been terrified at her son's danger, now lavished on him the most foolish caresses, indulging every wayward fancy, and straitening herself to gratify his whims. Instead of calmly reproving his sin and disobedience, she spoke only of vengeance to be taken on Tom Walsh, the boy who had beaten James; and she even promised Dan a new jacket as a reward for having thrashed Mickey Walsh, a younger brother of the offender, but who was himself quite guiltless of the affray. Daniel returned one day from school with a black eye and bloody nose, which would have excited his mother's displeasure, had they not been satisfactorily accounted for in the manner abovementioned. While James's illness lasted, his brother and sister were made subservient to him in everything. If he pettishly complained of them, the mother cuffed them without mercy, telling them that Jim was of more consequence than ten brats like them.

The old doctor often remonstrated with her on the subject. "Mrs Cronin," he would say, "I seen a dale of childher rared in my time, and I never yet saw good come of setting up one above another. "Tisn't in the nature of things but that they'll always be fighting and vieing with each other; and sure 'twould give you a sore heart-scald in your latter days to see them that you rocked in one cradle, and fed at your bosom, taring and destroying one another like them hathen Romans, Romulus and Ramus." These well-meant admonitions were in vain: blindly did the infatuated mother continue to minister to the worst passions of her children, reckless of the rapid growth of evil in their

hearts.

Little Ellen was a child of a naturally sweet and yielding disposition; she had true womanly feeling, and, under different training, would have grown up all that was amiable and lovely. Even as it was, she received much less injury from her mother's misrule than did her jealous, turbulent brothers.

She had a beautiful white hen with a top-knot, which her aunt had given her, and which she dearly loved. Every day the fresh egg which Snowy laid was brought in for James's breakfast; but not satisfied with this, the selfish boy declared he must have the hen for his own.

"Ah, Jimmy," said his little sister, "don't take Snowy from me: sure you know how fond the crathur is of me, and I of her. She flies up on my shoulder, and picks the bit of praty out of my mouth; and she's quite strange to you and Dan. Sure you wont take her, Jimmy?"

The boy was that day more than usually ill-tempered, and, without replying, he tried to snatch the bird from Ellen, who held it closely in her arms. Enraged at meeting_resistance, he seized the hen furiously, and wrung its neck. Its poor little mistress threw herself on the ground, sobbing in an agony of grief. Just at that moment their mother came in; and when she understood the cause of the uproar, what course did she pursue? She blamed Ellen for trying to retain her bird, telling her she deserved to lose it for going to vex Jim; and merely told the latter he was a fool for having killed such a nice laying hen; never adverting to the cruelty and injustice he had shown towards his sister.

Scenes of this kind were of daily occurrence, and tended to foster every bad and jealous feeling in the children's minds. Their mother really loved them, and fancied she had their interests at heart; but truly it was a false kindness, a cruel love. What availed her care for their bodies, while, by a perverse system of fondling one at the expense of the others, she filled their young souls with envious discontent? Jealousy of a brother stained with blood the hand of the first murderer. Six thousand years have rolled on since then, and of all the sanguine torrents which, during their course, man has drawn from the veins of his fellowmen, who can say how many may have flowed from the same fratricidal source? Parents, if you would have your sons and daughters grow up a blessing and a praise, a crown of rejoicing to your old age, teach them, while they are yet "little children," to "love one another!"

V.

Twelve years rolled on, and brought with them many changes. Mrs Cronin's bright dark eye began to wax dim, and her raven hair was streaked with gray; but time, which robs youth of its beauty, clothes childhood with matured grace and vigour. James and Daniel had grown up to be stout handsome young men, while their sister Ellen was, beyond dispute, the fairest maiden in the country. Time did its work in developing their persons: their mother did hers in perverting their minds. But let us say, once for all, it was done in ignorance. She was a weak-minded