anno 1565, Elizabethæ 6.—But sure, what signifies talking about them now. You may see it all in my Genealogical History of the Macarthy More, written in the Phoenician tongue, vulgo-vocato Irish; it being more precise and copious than the English, and other barbarous dialects; also sharp and sententious, offering great occasion to quick apothegm and proper allusion; the only pure dialect remaining of the seventy-two languages of Babel, introduced into Ireland by Finiusa Tarsa, the son of Magog, King of Scythia, from his own seminary of Magh-Seanair, near Athens; and is to this day the ould language, spoken by Hannibal, Hamilcar, Asdrubal, and the Macarthies More of county Cork and Kerry, anciently Desmondand taught in my seminary, in the ould preceptory of Monaster-ny-oriel, according to the Bethluisnion-na-Ogma, with Latin and Greek, and other modern dialects."

"And yet," said the Commodore, with an half-repressed smile, "there are some sceptics of opinion that there has always existed a perfect identity between the Irish and the Anglo-Saxon; that in fact the Irish received their ancient alphabet from the Britons; and that their pretensions to an eastern origin is a groundless notion, generated in ignorance, and idly cherished by a mistaken patriotism, which might be better directed."

"Oh murther!" exclaimed O'Leary, clasping his hands:" the thieves of the world!"

"O tribus Anticyris caput insanabile!" Then suddenly mounting his horse, with a look of mingled indignation and pity, directed at his unknown companion, he added, pointing to a road which wound down a woody hill, "there's your way, Sir, to Dunore town. If you crass the river at Ballydab bridge, you can't miss it."

He was trotting off, muttering to himself some broken exclamations in Irish, when the Commodore, who also had resumed his horse, followed him, and said,

"In detailing the opinions of others, I do not give them to you, Mr. O'Leary, as my own: you are to observe, I speak not to dictate, but to learn."

Why then, Sir," said O'Leary, soothed by this conciliatory observation, "I'd be loath to see the likes of you, or any gentleman, enticed by them traitors of the world, who come as espials on the land, and go forth to defame it; for sorrow one of them English but hate Ireland in their hearts: and there's an ould saying in Irish, which manes, 'keep elear of an Englishman, for he is on the watch to deceive you.' I wouldn't give a testoon* for the whole boiling of them,

* An old Spanish coin, once current iu Ireland,

troth, I wouldn't. The Irish not brought over by our Celtic Scythean ancestors! Bachal essu!* they might as well take St. Patrick from us, and deny that the potatoe is the plant of the soil."

"I am afraid, Mr. O'Leary, they would go near to do both."

"Oh! very well, Sir: I see you are one of them that would go ould Strabo on us, and Saxo Grammaticus, and Dr. Ledwich."

Nay, I speak as one ignorant of the subject, and desirous to obtain information. If there were now, as formerly, such seminaries to study in as the school of Ross Alethri, or such sages to study under as those sought for by the learned Monk Ealfrith, who came from Britain for that purpose, I should like to become his disciple."

The name of the celebrated staff of St. Patrick. An usual exclamation.

The Field of Pilgrimage.

"To say nothing," said O'Leary, "of, Agelbert, bishop of the west Saxons, Alfred, king of Northumberland, and the blessed father Egbert, and the saintly brother Wigbert, who for the love of the celestial Isle, quit their kin and country, and retired to Ireland to study."

"But what cell," asked the Commodore with emphasis, "what preceptory, what academy is there now open to the lover of Irish antiquities, where learning and retirement could for an adequate compensation be obtained together, by a stranger who thirsts for both?"

"There is," said O'Leary, after a short pause, and in a voice full of importance, as he drew up close to his companion" there is, plaze your honor, a place called the Monaster-nyoriel; an old ruin, but a larned retreat. And if there was a gentleman, who, for the love of Ireland, would put up with homely fare, and be satisfied to be how