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                        THE IRISH PENNY JOURNAL.

         NUMBER 52.      SATURDAY, JUNE 26, 1841.      VOLUME I.

[Illustration: TOMB OF CURRAN.]

Twenty years had nearly elapsed, and no stone marked the grate where
Curran was interred: still Ireland continued unpossessed of the remains
of one of the ablest of her orators and purest of her patriots, and
seemed, in this instance especially, to justify the reproach of her
habitual neglect towards the posthumous reputation of her great men.

To the managing committee of the cemetery at Glasnevin belongs the
merit, in this eminent instance, of setting an example which may remove
or mitigate the humiliating truth of that too just reproach.[1] They
reclaimed for Ireland the bones of Curran, which were transferred from
England to the cemetery over which they preside.

To Lord Cloncurry, ever foremost or forward in aught affecting the public
weal, and through life distinguished as the munificent supporter of all
the elegant and useful arts--of every object proposing to advance the
interests of his country or honour of her name--to him belongs the merit
of originating a subscription from which has resulted the monument at
Glasnevin, and the other now in progress at the church of St Patrick.[2]
Thus at the northern extremity of Dublin the tomb of Curran stands
over his remains; and at the southern extremity, in our metropolitan
Cathedral Church, which may be called our little Westminster, a cenotaph,
now begun, will soon bear witness that after a lapse of 23 years, new
recorded honours gather round his monument, and his glory still freshens
in the memory of posterity.

A senior fellow of our University, who had no other share in his
subsequent elevation to a mitre than the circumstance of having rendered
himself worthy of it, observes on the subject of this commemoration as
follows:--“It (a letter) shows me, however, that you intended to apply
to me on a subject well calculated to excite my sympathy; and it gives
me an opportunity of indulging my own feelings, and of promoting my own
honour, in avowing my admiration and respect for splendid talents and
disinterested patriotism. I shall therefore be flattered by the insertion
of my name in your list, though I do not entertain the ambitious thought
of my doing honour to the memory of a man who has erected for himself a
monument greater and more lasting than can be contained in any cemetery.”

The wood-cut engraving prefixed to this article is descriptive of
Curran’s tomb at Glasnevin, of which Mr J. T. Papworth, A.R.H.A.,
architect of the Royal Dublin Society, was the architect, and conductor
of its construction and successful execution. It is a fac simile of
the celebrated chef-d’œuvre of the antique known as the tomb of Scipio
Barbatious, exemplars of which are favourite objects of purchase to the
visiters of Rome, and lovers of virtu. It is a magnificent specimen of
that simple, durable, massive grandeur, which the early artists of the
mistress of the world deemed suitable to the character of a great man’s
sepulchre; fit to outlive, like its great Roman prototype, numerous
generations of men, and bear down the name of its honoured object to the
admiration of a most distant posterity. Napoleon’s tomb at St Helena was
of course the suggestion of the best taste of France and Italy combined.
It bears a close resemblance to that of Scipio. The material of the
latter is of an inferior description of stone, greatly surpassed by
that of Curran’s tomb, which is composed of the best specimen, perhaps,
extant, of our finest Irish granite, and sparkles like silver in the
sun. The application of this product to sepulchral purposes is recent
and appropriate. The late palace of our dukes, the late halls of our
parliament, the testimonials commemorating the victors who most exalted
the glory of Britain on the ocean and by land, our custom-house and
post-office, our courts of justice, the harbours of Wicklow, Howth, and
Dunleary, the spire of St Patrick’s, the grandest of our bridges, with
most other of our magnificent public edifices, have long displayed and
will long display the value of our granite for beauty and solidity. It
has superseded the use of Portland stone, for, capable of being cut into
the finer figures of architecture, it admits of any shape, it withstands
any weather; and harder than freestone, and hardening in the air, and
susceptible of every formation from the chisel, the mallet, and the
hammer, it stands of all the mineral kingdom most faithful to the trust
of monumental fame. But it is not by such memorials, as was justly
observed by the eminent prelate already referred to; it is not by such
memorials as art may construct from marble or brass, or our own enduring
granite, that the immortality of Curran’s fame can be achieved, it is in
the great efforts of his transcendant genius we best can contemplate his
deathless monument, and in that respect it may be said of him as Johnson
said on a like occasion,

    “A mortal born, he met a mortal’s doom,
    But left, like Egypt’s kings, a lasting tomb.”

The tomb is in the form of a Sarcophagus, of the Doric order of
architecture, richly sculptured. The triglyphs are most delicately
wrought, and the metopes are ornamented with pateras. It is erected so as
to appear upon a tumulus, which has a good effect. The dimensions are as
follow:--

    The plinth    11 feet  2¼ inches by 5 feet 6½ inches.
    The dado       8 feet 11  inches by 3 feet 8½ inches.
    Height         8 feet  2  inches.

The blocks of granite of which the tomb has been formed are perhaps the
largest made use of in Ireland, each weighing from 4 to 5 tons. The
joints between the blocks have been so managed as to be imperceptible,
and the tomb thus appears to be one entire mass of granite.

                                                                       F.

[1] This monument, if not influencing, has certainly been followed by
monuments now in progress of erection to the late Chief Baron Joy, Mr
Drummond, the Dean of St Patrick’s, Lord Clements, and others.

[2] The contract has been made with Mr Christopher Moore, an Irish
sculptor of much celebrity. The foundation is laid to granite, the
structure will be marble, and the situation fronts the monument of the
late Serjeant Ball.




THE MARKET-WOMAN.

BY M. C. R.


Some of the pleasantest of the many pleasant reminiscences of my
childhood are associated with the recollection of a very ugly
uncouth woman, with a very ugly uncouth name, “Moll Miskellagh,” our
market-woman. If the cognomen “Moll” was intolerable to “ears polite,”
what was it to the euphonious appellation of her better half, “Mogue
Miskellagh?” The English groom of an Irish gentleman once overheard
some person calling “Mogue Miskellagh!” “Mogue Miskellagh!” “Mogue
Miskellagh!” he thrice exclaimed, voice, eyes, and hands in their various
ways expressing astonishment, “does that ’ere name belong to a Christian?”

The home of my early days was situated five miles from the nearest
market-town; and as it was not always convenient to send a servant and
horse for the various commodities necessary for a tolerably large family,
a regular drudging market man or woman was deemed indispensable. Moll
Miskellagh heard of “the lady’s” wants and wishes, and believing her
own limbs to be stout, and her memory retentive, offered herself as the
“beast of burden.”

“Mistress, jew’l,” pleaded Moll, with the most persuasive brogue
imaginable, “sorra sitch a pair ov legs in the whole counthry; an’ for my
back, it bangs Banagher for the strinth! As to my karracther, thank God I
need say nothin’ about it, as I may safely lave it to my naiburs for its
honesty.”

“And honesty must have its reward,” returned the amiable and
well-beloved “Misthress,” whose business it was to engage the
market-woman. “But do you read?”

“Augh! sorra bit ov me, yer honour,” quoth Mrs Miskellagh, with a groan;
“larnin’ wasn’t the fashin in my young days, or I ’spose I’d have got a
lick ov it like the rest. But what ov that, misthress?”

“Why, it would be better for all parties that you did read, as you will
have so many notes to carry to different shops, and you cannot fail to be
sadly puzzled.”

“Augh, lave out the notes, ma’am,” interrupted Moll, somewhat
impatiently, “an’ give me yer commands by word ov mouth, an’ I’ll engage
for it. I’ll go to the four quarthers ov the town, an’ do yer errands
widout a single mistake: bekase why, if I wud happen to forget one or
two, I have a way ov me own to make me remimber agin. So, for God’s an’
me childher’s sakes, yer honour, give me the berth, an’ I’ll sarve ye
faithful. Throth I’ll drag as much as an ass!”

“Well, I believe I shall try you, Molly,” said the lady, smiling kindly,
the appeal of distress never lost upon her. “Thursdays and Saturdays are
the days we send to town; be you ready to attend me at ten o’clock next
Thursday.”

I was present at this engagement, and though I was very young at the
time, never shall I forget the frightful grins with which Moll Miskellagh
graced her exuberant thanks, nor her extra-extraordinary curtseys! I have
seen an elephant attempt such movements since, and I can declare that the
quadruped was the more graceful of the two. The “quadruped!” do I say?
I would not vow that our market-woman was not akin to a camel: she was
as enduring as one, I am sure, and seldom have I seen her without her
burthen behind.

Well, on Thursday Moll Miskellagh was punctual; she came with eyes, ears,
and hands all prepared for “town.”

“I am sadly afraid----” began the lady, pausing, and looking doubtfully
at her messenger.

“Of what, yer honour?” inquired Molly briskly.

“That your memory cannot retain all the commissions I must entrust you
with, and not only me, but every one in the house.”

“Thry me, madam--go on, jew’l! Never fear me! Give me a hundred ov them
if you like, for I have a way ov me own to remimber.”

“Well, I wish to serve you at all events. Then you must first carry this
post-bag to the post-office.”

“So I can, madam; an’ I need say nothin’ there, as the bag will tell what
it wants ov itself. Go on, darlint!”

“Then you are to go to the baker’s in New-street, to the butcher’s in
Market-street, to F----’s for groceries, to Mrs R---- of Church-street
with this note, and to Mrs L---- of Castle-hill with the other. And here
is a list of articles you are to purchase for me at any shop you please.
But what operation are you performing on your fingers?”

“Augh, there’s my saicret!” quoth the market-woman triumphantly. “Ye see,
misthress, I have three sorts ov thread, black, white, an’ grey; an’ when
I am not sure that I’ll think ov a thing parfectly, I tie one ov those
threads on one ov me fingers; an’ whin I am at a loss, I keep lookin’ at
the thread till I remimber what I tied it on for, an’ so at last it comes
into my mimory. Go on, misthress, if you plaise; the day is gettin’ late
with us.”

“I have no more commissions, Molly; but here comes your master with his.”

“Well, Mrs Miskellagh, have you got all your _commandments_?” inquired
the “ministhur,” smiling.

“Augh, be lanient, yer rivirince! the mistress has given me a power to do
to-day.”

“Well, Moll, I will be lenient. I have only two or three trifling
commissions to give you. First, you must go to the post-office, and then
to B----’s for my boots; neither parson nor priest can do without them,
you know. Did you ever hear of the ‘priest in his boots,’ Moll?”

“Throth I have, an’ danced it too, sur. Go on, yer rivirince: what next?”

“Next you are to go to Mr W----, the attorney, with this note, and be
sure to wait for his answer. I have no more commissions to-day. But now,
Moll, take care of the youngsters; and here they come, ready to overwhelm
you!”

“Ogh! Lard help me!” ejaculated the poor market-woman, as a troop of
laughing, romping children bounded into the room and surrounded her.

Now, grandpapa, for a little innocent mischief, privately slid silver
to each of the youngsters, to gratify their various tastes in toys,
purposely to test poor Moll’s system of mnemonics. The eldest boy was
about to give his orders in a loud key, when Moll Miskellagh, with a
proper reverence for her own sex, pushed him aside, and desired the
“young Miss” to “spaik up first.”

“A sixpenny doll, and two dishes for my baby-kitchen,” squeaked miss.

“Now, young masther, yours?”

“A top, Moll--not a pegging-top, but a humming-top I want.”

“A hummin’-top!” cried the market-woman, impatiently; “arrah, what the
dhioul is a hummin’-top?”

“Why, a humming-top is a-a-a-humming top,” quoth young master, somewhat
posed. “It makes a noise this way--hum, hum, hum--for all the world like
a droning beetle.”

Poor Moll had no acquaintance with any beetle but a sort of wooden
instrument with which peasant maidens pound their coarse clothes
when washing them at a stream or river; and “a dhronin’ beetle!” she
ejaculated, opening wide her small grey eyes, and looking from one to the
other for an explanation; while grandpapa, his face bathed with tears
from excessive laughter, prepared to make matters clear, but in reality
to make “confusion worse confounded.” But the hero of the humming-top
thought no one knew its peculiarities so well as himself, and he ended
the dilemma by describing a humming-top to be “a great deal larger than a
common top, had a square hole in one side, and it was always painted red.”

“That’ll do,” said Moll Miskellagh, trying to be satisfied. “I’ll inquire
about sitch a thing, any how. An’ now, little masthers, what’s your
pleasures?”

One chose “a whip,” and the other “cakes,” and then we thought poor
Moll had her quantum, and that she might proceed on her journey. But
so thought not Moll. Confident of her retentive powers and strength of
frame, she seemed determined to test herself to the utmost: and before
she left the house, she descended to the lower regions to offer her
services to the dignitaries of the kitchen. She was expected, it seemed,
for cook had a lot of “kitchen stuff” to be disposed of in town, the
butler to send for a new razor, the housemaid to have a letter put into
the post-office, directed to “John Fitz-Garald, at Mr Crosbie’s, esquire,
Dublin, Great Britain-street, Ireland,” and the kitchen-maid to send for
a wire comb to support her redundant tresses.

“Any thing else, now?” demanded the messenger, her foot on the threshold
of the outer door.

“No! no! no!” exclaimed all the voices at once; “away with ye, an’ God
speed ye!”

“Amin!” muttered the market-woman, striding up the steep stone steps,
through the yard, and down the avenue, without “casting a longing,
lingering look behind.”

I will not say how often we children teased our dear, good,
angel-tempered grandmother with “when will Moll Miskellagh return?”
Suffice it to say, we thought of nothing but Moll, looked for no one but
Moll; and until we actually beheld Moll panting up the steep avenue with
a prodigious load on her back, a huge basket on one arm, and the post-bag
on the other, her two pockets or rather wallets filled to the brim, we
never gave ourselves or others rest or peace!

But the market-woman was triumphant! Not one single commission did she
forget, and every one was satisfied with her dealings and bargains except
the butler, whose razor was base metal, instead of steel, or even iron!
But who could blame Moll Miskellagh? Abler persons, and of the sex that
used such scrapers, had been imposed on ere then. Witness--

    Being well lathered from a dish or tub,
    Hodge now began with grinning face to scrub,
      Just like a hedger cutting furze;
    ’Twas a vile razor! Then the rest he tried--
    All were imposters! “Ah!” Hodge sighed,
      “I wish my eighteen-pence within my purse!”

Yes! our market-woman was triumphant! and for many years she retained
her situation, exhibiting the same strength of memory, fidelity, and
honesty, to the last. But I must mention how nicely we nicked our
grandpapa for his indiscreet attempt to puzzle our purveyor on her first
essay. Ever after, we regularly called upon him for “means to test the
market-woman’s memory,” and he good-humouredly always complied with
the demand. Then, oh! what an interesting object Moll became to us! How
we used to watch for the first glimpse of the huge white load resting
on her back, and rising considerably above her head! And how often in
our eagerness we mistook white cows, ladies dressed in white, and white
horses, for our dearly beloved Moll Miskellagh!

One evening we expected some particularly nice things by our
market-woman. It was somewhere about Christmas, when our means swelled
considerably by the addition of Christmas gifts. Many times during the
evening we had seen things very like Moll in the distance, but which
turned out most bitter disappointments. All four were stuck in a window
that commanded a full view of the road to E----; and never did the
unfortunate lady of Bluebeard put more earnest eager inquiries to her
sister Anne, “is there any body coming?” than we did to each other on
this momentous occasion. At length, oh, sight of joy! we beheld a white
object descending the opposite hill. “She is coming! she is coming!”
screamed a quartetto of young voices, and down we flew to the avenue
gate. Alas and alack! it was not Moll, but a gentleman on a white horse!
We gazed on each other in breathless dismay; but one of the party, though
sadly confounded, resolved to hear of our messenger if possible, since he
could not see her, and, boldly advancing, demanded of the traveller “if
he were coming from E----?”

The gentleman, for he was a gentleman, appeared somewhat surprised at
this address, but observing a group of rosy, merry-looking children, he
reined in his horse, and smiling good-naturedly, replied that “he was
then returning from that town.”

Emboldened by this condescension, the next query was, “had he seen Moll
Miskellagh?”

The stranger laughed outright. “Really, my dear,” said he, “I have not
the pleasure to know any one of that name. Pray who and what is Moll
Miskellagh?’

“Our market-woman, sir,” quoth our spokesman.

“Ha! What sort of person is she, pray? Perhaps I did see her.”

We looked at one another doubtfully, the look plainly expressing “How
shall we describe her?” when at last the first speaker, with the air of
an incipient judge of female beauty, took on himself to reply, “that Moll
Miskellagh was a very ugly woman indeed, that she had a pale yellow face,
and a great wart near her nose; that she wore a dark blue cloak, an old
black bonnet, and that she carried a prodigious, oh! a very big load on
her back.”

“Never was description more graphic!” exclaimed the traveller, still
laughing. “I did indeed see your market-woman. I passed her about a
quarter of a mile from this; and if you have patience, my dears, you will
soon see her. You expect some nice things by her, I am sure--Eh?”

“Oh dear, yes, sir”--and thereupon we eagerly enumerated all that
Moll was charged to purchase. The kind gentleman seemed to enjoy
our delightful anticipations, asked us our names, and various other
questions, and charitably kept us employed till poor over-laden Moll
actually came in sight, and until he witnessed our clamorous welcomes,
and saw us in possession of our treasures. Nay, he lingered to laugh at
our expedient to facilitate Mrs Miskellagh’s tardy movements up the very
steep avenue--one and all of the four juveniles getting behind her and
pushing her up (much in the way the veritable Captain Kearney’s fair
but fat cousin was sent up the companion-ladder, as described in “Peter
Simple”), the boys shouting “Yo heave ho!” as the good ship Old Moll got
into port.

Peace to the poor market-woman! In some lone and humble church-yard she
now rests after her life of labour--in the memory of those who knew her,
her only epitaph,

    “Simple, faithful, honest, much-enduring Moll Miskellagh!”




ANIMAL HEAT.

Second Article.


In the last paper on this subject a few instances were quoted, showing
the great extremes of temperature which human beings and the lower
animals are capable of enduring without injury, and in many cases without
inconvenience. We propose in the present article to notice briefly the
means by which it is believed living creatures are enabled to exhibit
this power; and although physiologists are not unanimous in their
opinions on the subject, yet the views we shall endeavour to explain
are those which are held by the majority of scientific men, and which
are best supported by experiment, by analogy, and by the authority of
illustrious names.

For the purpose of making the subject clear to those who may not be
acquainted with the principles of physiology, “the science of life,” as
it has been happily termed, it may be useful to explain the _rationale_
of an operation continually being performed by all of us, and yet very
little thought of or understood--we mean the process of breathing. It is
found that the natural heat of animals depends on the perfection of the
apparatus by which respiration is performed; those animals which have a
complicated respiratory organization having a high degree of bodily heat,
while those which have more simple and less delicately formed organs have
a temperature very little raised above the medium in which they live.[3]
It is necessary, therefore, to have a clear idea of the process of
respiration before we can understand the connection between it and animal
heat.

The object of respiration is to purify the blood and render it fit for
the various offices it performs in the animal economy. When the blood
leaves the heart to be distributed through the body, it is of a very
bright red colour, but as it proceeds in its course it gradually loses
this and assumes a purple hue; and when, having completed its circulation
through the body, it is returned to the heart again by the veins, it has
entirely lost its former bright colour, and is then very dark, and, from
the impurities it has acquired in its course, unfit for the purposes of
life. To restore its former qualities it is necessary that it should
be brought into contact with the atmosphere, and this takes place in
the lungs. By the action of the muscles of the chest and abdomen, the
interior of the chest is increased in size, an empty space is formed into
which the air instantly descends by the mouth or nostrils, constituting
what is termed the act of inspiration. At the same moment that the
muscles of the chest increase its size and make room for the air to
descend, at that very moment the heart contracts, or in popular language
pulsates or beats, the effect of which is to force the dark-coloured
(venous) blood from the portion of the heart in which it was contained,
into the lungs. The lungs are composed almost entirely of an innumerable
number of vesicles, or minute air-bladders, into which the air descends,
as we have stated. These vesicles are covered with a network of extremely
fine blood-vessels. When the heart pulsates, it fills these vessels
with the dark-coloured blood; and as the air is capable of passing
through both the coats of the vesicle and of the blood-vessels, it of
course comes into direct contact with the blood, and a chemical change
immediately takes place.

This chemical change is necessary for life: the air is changed in its
qualities, and the blood is also changed in its qualities. The air is
changed by having one of its constituent elements (oxygen) abstracted
from it: and the blood is changed by its being impregnated with this
gas, and relieved of another kind called carbonic acid. If from any
circumstance this process is interfered with, the individual dies of
suffocation. A person may be suffocated for want of air, or for want of
pure air. In the former case his death is caused in this manner:--The
wind-pipe being closed, either by pressure, as in the case of criminals
who die by hanging, or by something entering and obstructing it, it
happens that although the muscles of the chest enlarge its internal
area, as before mentioned, the air cannot descend into it. This does
not, however, interfere with the action of the heart, which forces the
dark blood into the minute blood-vessels of the chest, as usual; the
blood passes onward unchanged; it receives no oxygen, nor is its bright
red colour restored. In this state it reaches the chamber of the heart,
from whence it is to be distributed to the head and body; a portion of
it is forced up the vessels which convey it to the brain, and the moment
it reaches this organ, it produces violent convulsions, insensibility,
and in a few moments death. A similar result takes place from breathing
foul air. In this case, although air may descend into the air-vessels
of the lungs, yet, as the grand element, the oxygen, is not present, no
change is produced in the blood; it pursues the same course as that just
pointed out, unchanged in its quality, and the same fatal result is the
inevitable consequence.

The atmosphere in a state of purity is composed of two gases mixed
together; the one termed _oxygen_, the other _nitrogen_. After escaping
from the lungs, the air is found to have undergone a remarkable change;
the oxygen has disappeared, and its place is supplied with an equal
volume of another gas called _carbonic acid_; while at the same time
the air is altogether altered in many of its more important qualities;
it is no longer fit for the purposes of life, nor will a light burn in
it. A person shut up in a confined place without a supply of fresh air,
very soon expires: and a candle placed under a glass vessel filled with
air that has been breathed, immediately goes out. In short, respiration
and combustion are similar processes, and the same result is produced by
both, namely, carbonic acid gas.

This gas is formed by the mixture of oxygen with carbon (charcoal). It is
absorbed very readily by water, and is perhaps best known in the form of
soda water; the aërated liquid sold under that name being nothing more
than water strongly impregnated with carbonic acid gas. It is formed by a
variety of processes--by breathing, by combustion, by fermentation, and
otherwise. In every case, however, its formation is attended with heat.
And now, having thus briefly introduced the subject, we may mention, that
on this fact is founded the theory which attempts to explain the means by
which the animal temperature is produced and maintained. It is founded on
the fact, that whenever oxygen enters into combination with carbon, and
forms carbonic acid gas, heat is always produced.

The most usual manner in which this is effected is by combustion; the
substance which burns, such as wood, or tallow, or coal gas, for example,
consists principally of carbon, and on being ignited, the oxygen of the
atmosphere is made to combine with it, and carbonic acid is the result.
Every body knows that heat is produced by this process; but there are
many instances in which the same effect may take place without being so
readily understood. Heat and light are so constantly found united, that
we can hardly conceive how so large a substance as the human body can be
kept constantly warm without the aid of fire. It is, however, effected by
a chemical process identically the same as combustion, except that light
is not produced. The lungs may be regarded as the furnace of the body,
from which it derives its supply of heat; the fuel is the carbon in the
blood; and the wind-pipe is a chimney serving a double purpose: first,
to allow of the passage of fresh air for the process, and then to convey
away the vapour which is produced by it: for the breath which issues from
our lungs is just as much deteriorated in quality as that which escapes
from the chimney of a large furnace after passing through the fire.

This, then, is the process by which the animal heat is maintained.
The blood comes to the lungs loaded with carbon; the air descends the
wind-pipe, consisting of one-third oxygen; the carbon of the blood and
the oxygen of the air unite; the blood is purified, and carbonic acid gas
is produced. This is attended with heat; the purified blood is capable
of absorbing all this heat, and does so. In its progress through the
body, as the blood again becomes impure, it gradually parts with the heat
so acquired, and on again being purified, it receives a fresh supply.
Nothing can be more simple and beautiful than this process; it is in
accordance with every great operation in nature, which is always effected
in the most direct and simple manner; and the proofs that this is the
manner in which nature effects her object in this instance, are numerous
and unanswerable.

There are two circumstances which at first sight may appear to interfere
with the explanation above given of this very beautiful phenomenon.
First, the lungs are found to be but very little warmer than any other
part of the body, although, as we have stated, the animal heat is
produced in them: and, secondly, the quantity of carbon produced by
respiration is very small compared with the genial heat produced by its
conversion into carbonic acid. With regard to the heat of the lungs, a
series of experiments instituted for the purpose of ascertaining how they
were kept at so moderate a degree of temperature, led to the discovery
of an extraordinary change which takes place in the vital fluid after
being purified, which satisfactorily explains the circumstance. The pure
blood is found to have a greater capacity for heat than impure blood:
it will absorb more; and in consequence, all the heat produced by its
purification is immediately absorbed by it, and carried away as fast as
it is generated, to be distributed over the body. As the blood becomes
impure in its progress, it gradually loses its power of retaining the
heat it had so imbibed; and the heat therefore is distributed during the
circulation of the blood, and every part receives a due supply. This
change in the power of the vital fluid to absorb heat, according as it
is more or less pure, is a fact that was not established in the time of
Paley, or he would have been able to add another proof of design to his
unequalled argument.

The quantity of fuel (if we may use the expression) required for
generating the heat of the animal frame, is certainly less than we might
anticipate. All animal and vegetable food contains a considerable portion
of carbon, which of course, after being digested, becomes a part of the
vital fluid, and in this way it is supplied for the process. It is well
known also that in cold climates, where a greater quantity of animal fuel
is required, the inhabitants are extremely fond of fat and oily matters,
which contain more carbon than any other kind of food; yet it would
hardly be imagined that so small a quantity as the eighth part of an
ounce of carbon per hour would be sufficient to maintain the heat of the
body at an uniform temperature of 98 degrees. We are assured by the best
chemists, however, that the average quantity of carbonic acid generated
by a person in health in twenty-four hours is about 40,000 cubic inches,
and this contains only about 11½ ounces of pure carbon. Rather less than
half an ounce is therefore used per hour in preserving the body at its
usual temperature.

The limits of this article prevent our noticing other objections which
have been urged against the theory just described, but the facts it
rests upon can only be overturned by opposing facts which have never
yet been produced. It is certain that carbonic acid is produced during
respiration, that its production is always attended with heat, that pure
(arterial) blood is capable of absorbing a greater portion of heat than
impure (venous) blood, and that the temperature of any part of the body
is according to the supply of blood which it receives; an inflamed part,
becoming very hot, and a limb in which the circulation has been stopped
by a bandage becoming cold. These facts taken together sufficiently prove
the truth of the conclusion that has been drawn from them, and which we
have above very briefly illustrated.

It remains to say a few words on the manner in which the body is relieved
of its superabundant heat, and enabled to bear such high degrees of
temperature as mentioned in the former paper. Franklin was the first
who gave a rational explanation of the phenomenon. He observed that the
evaporation of a small quantity of a liquid from the surface of any
substance would reduce the temperature of a very large body. If we place
a little ether on our hand, and allow it to evaporate, we shall soon
become sensible how much cold may be produced in this way. Wine-coolers
are formed on this principle: they are made of porous earth, through
which the water they contain oozes very gradually, and is evaporated by
the heat of the air: this cools the liquid within, and of course the
decanter of wine contained in it. Now, perspiration cools the body in a
similar manner. If any person looks closely at the fleshy part of his
hand, he will observe that the minute ridges which lie nearly parallel
to each other are covered with an innumerable number of small pores,
through which the perspiration may be seen issuing when the hand is
warm. From microscopic observations it is calculated that the skin is
perforated by 1000 of those pores, or holes, in every square inch, and
that the whole surface of the body therefore contains not less than
2,304,000 pores! When the body is heated to a certain degree, the fluid
portions are all directed to the skin, and escape gradually through these
pores in the form of perspiration, and the cooling power thus produced
is capable of immediately removing the superabundant heat. The moment
perspiration broke out on the bodies of the experimenters who ventured
into the heated oven, all sense of pain was removed; and in many fatal
disorders to which man is subject, the first symptom of returning health
is a similar occurrence. We may add, that a common cold is the effect of
the perspiration being suddenly checked, and that the health of the body
depends on the minute pores we have referred to being kept open and in
action.

                                                                 J. S. D.

[3] Animals are divided by naturalists into two classes, cold-blooded and
warm-blooded; the latter breathe by lungs, through which all the blood
of the body is continually passed, and which has direct communication
with the air. Cold-blooded creatures, such as fishes, breathe by means
of gills, and the air, instead of coming into direct contact with their
vital fluid, is absorbed from the water. In the case of reptiles, which
are cold-blooded, although the air may come into direct contact with the
blood, as in the respiration of the frog, yet, by the peculiar structure
of his lungs, only half the blood is sent to them to be purified; and
thus his superiority over the fish in receiving air direct, is balanced
by the circumstance that his blood is only half purified, in consequence
of being only in part exposed to the action of the air. The temperature
of animals is found to have relation to their activity and vital energy.
The following list exhibits the temperature of the animals mentioned.--

    Birds, 105 degrees Fahrenheit,
    Sheep, 100 degrees --
    Worms,  36 degrees --
    Frog,   40 degrees --
    Snail,  36 degrees --
    Fish,   60 degrees --

       *       *       *       *       *

Society makes criminals, and then punishes them for their misdeeds.




ORIGIN AND MEANINGS OF IRISH FAMILY NAMES

BY JOHN O’DONOVAN.

The Seventh and Concluding Article.


At the present day very few of the original Irish names remain without
being translated into or assimilated with those borne by the English. Of
this I shall next furnish instances, the truth and correctness of which
cannot be controverted. Among the O’Conors of Connaught, the name Cathal,
which is synonymous with the Welsh Cadell, and signifies _warlike_, was
changed to Charles after the accession of Charles I. to the throne; for
the Irish, who were attached to this monarch, went great lengths to
assimilate several of their Christian names to Charles. Thus, while among
the O’Conors of Connaught, Cathal was manufactured into Charles (with
which, it will be readily granted, it has nothing in common, either in
meaning or sound), among the O’Conors of Faly in Leinster, Cahir, which
signifies _warrior_, was metamorphosed into the same: and at the same
time the Mac Carthys of Desmond substituted it for their Cormac, and the
O’Hagans and other northern families for their Turlogh. This was paying
their court to the king with a vengeance!

In the families of Mac Carthy, O’Sullivan and O’Driscol, Finghin
[Fineen], a name very general among them, and which signifies _the
fair offspring_, has been anglicised to Florence. Among the same
southern families the name Saerbrethach, which prevails among the Mac
Carthys in particular, and which signifies the _noble justice_, is
translated Justin. In the family of O’Donovan, as the writer has had
every opportunity of knowing, the name Murrogh has been metamorphosed
to Morgan; Dermod, to Jeremiah; Teige, to Timothy; Conor or Concovar,
to Cornelius; Donogh, to Denis; and Donnell, to Daniel. In the family
of O’Brien, the hereditary name of Turlogh has been changed to Terence;
Mahon, to Matthew; Murtogh or Moriertagh, to Mortimer (but this very
lately); and Lachtna and Laoiseach, to Lucius. Among the O’Gradys the
name Aneslis is rendered Stanislaus and Standish. In the families of
O’Donnell, O’Kane, and others, in the province of Ulster, Manus, a
name borrowed by those families from the Danes, is now often rendered
Manasses. In the families of Mac Mahon and Mac Kenna, in Ulster, the
name Ardgal or Ardal, signifying _of high prowess or valour_, is always
anglicised Arnold. In the family of O’Madden of Shilanamchy, in the
south-east of the county of Galway, the hereditary name of Anmcha,
which is translated Animosus by Colgan, is now always rendered Ambrose,
to which, it will be readily granted, it does not bear the slightest
analogy. Among the families of Doyle, Cavanagh, and others, in the
province of Leinster, the name Maidoc, or Mogue, which they adopted from
St Maidoc, or Aidan, the patron saint of the diocese of Fernes, is now
always rendered Moses among the Roman Catholics, and Aidan among the
Protestants! (any thing to make a difference.) Among the O’Neills in
the province of Ulster, the name Felim, or Felimy, explained as meaning
_the ever good_, is now made Felix; Con, signifying _strength_, is made
Constantine; and Ferdoragh, meaning _dark-visaged man_, is rendered
Ferdinand. Among the O’Conors of Connaught, the name Ruaidhri, or Rory,
is anglicised Roderic, but among most other families it is rendered
Roger. In the same family, Tomaltach is rendered Thomas; Aodh, Hugh; and
Eoghan, Owen. In the families of Mac Donnell and others in Scotland, and
in the north of Ireland, the name Aengus, or Angus, is always rendered
Æneas. Among the O’Hanlys of Slieve Bawn, in the east of the county of
Roscommon, the name Berach, which they have adopted from their patron
saint, and which is translated by Colgan, _directe ad scopum collimans_,
is now always and correctly enough rendered Barry. Throughout Ireland
the old name of Brian is now rendered Bernard, and vulgarised to Barney,
which is more properly an abbreviation of Barnaby than of Bernard. Among
the O’Haras and O’Garas in the county of Sligo, the name Kian, which they
have adopted from their great ancestor Kian, the son of Olioll Olum, king
of Munster, is now rendered Kean; and I observe that the chief O’Hara
has suffered himself to be called Charles King O’Hara in a book lately
dedicated to him! In the family of Maguire, Cuconnaught is rendered
Constantine, while in other families Cosnavy undergoes precisely the same
change. In the family of O’Kane, the name Cooey written Cu-maighe in the
original language, and signifying “_dog of the plain_,” is now rendered
Quintin. In the family of O’Dowd, the ancient name of Dathi, which they
have adopted from their great ancestor of that name, who was the last
Pagan king of Ireland, is now rendered David, a name with which it is
supposed to be synonymous. In the north and west of Ireland the names
Duval-tach, Duv-da-lethe, and Duvdara, are all anglicised Dudley. In the
family of Mac Sweeny, the very ancient name of Heremon is anglicised
Irwin, but it is now almost obsolete as a Christian name. In the families
of O’Hanlon, O’Haran, and O’Heany, in the province of Ulster, the name
Eochy, signifying _horseman_, and which was latinized Eochodius, Achaius,
Euthichius, and Equitius, is anglicised Auhy and Atty; but this name
is also almost obsolete, the writer having never met more than one
person who bore the name, in his travels through Ireland. Among the
O’Mulconrys, now Conrys, the names Flann, Fithil, and Flaithri, have been
anglicised Florence. In the family of O’Daly, the name Baothghalach,
which was formerly latinized Boethius, is now always rendered Bowes;
and in that of O’Clery, the name Lughaidh is anglicised Lewy and Lewis.
Among the O’Reillys of Cavan, the hereditary name of Maelmora, which
signifies _majestic chief_, is now invariably rendered Myles, and among
the O’Kellys of Hy-Many, the name Fachtna is rendered Festus. In every
part of Ireland, Maelseachlainn, or Melaghlin, which signifies _servant
of St Secundinus_, has been changed to Malachy, to which it bears no
analogy whatever, excepting some fancied resemblance in sound. In every
part of Ireland the name of Gilla-patrick has been changed to Patrick;
and, by the way, it is curious to observe, that common as the name
Patrick has now become in Ireland, especially among the lower classes,
it was never in use among the ancient Irish, for they never called their
children by the name itself of the Irish apostle, deeming it more humble
and more auspicious to call them his _servants_; and hence we find the
ancient Irish calling their children, not Patrick, but Maelpatrick, or
Gillapatrick; and these names they latinized Patricianus, not Patricius.
The name of Patrick is now looked upon as the most vulgar in use among
the Irish, which is a very strange and almost unaccountable prejudice,
for Patricius was one of the most honourable names in all antiquity, as
the reader will see if he will take the trouble to read the work on the
antiquity of British Churches, by Ussher, pp. 841-1046, in which that
learned primate gives the history and derivation of the name.

The names of women have been also very much metamorphosed, and many of
the most curious of them entirely rejected. I have now before me a list
of the names of women, drawn up from the authentic Irish annals, and
from the History of Remarkable Women--a curious tract in the Book of
Lecan, fol. 193; but as the limits allotted to me in this Journal will
not allow me to furnish such a list, I must rest satisfied with giving
such names as are still retained, with a selection from the most curious
of those which have been rejected, adding their meanings as far as they
are certain. The following are the ancient Irish names of women still
retained, as the writer has determined by examining the provinces of
Ulster, Connaught, Leinster, and the greater part of Munster:--

1. _Ainé_, now Hannah.

2. _Brighid_, now anglicised Bridget, from its resemblance to the name
of the celebrated Swedish virgin of that name. Brighid is a woman’s name
of pagan origin in Ireland; it has been explained _fiery dart_ by the
Irish glossographers, especially by Cormac, Archbishop of Cashel, who
distinctly states in his glossary that it was the name of the Muse who
was believed to preside over poetry in pagan times in Ireland. _Brighid_
is now very common in Ireland as the name of a woman, in consequence
of its being that of the most celebrated of the female saints of
Ireland--the patroness of Kildare--who is well known all over Europe as
the great patroness of Ireland.

3. _Finola_, though a beautiful name, has nearly become obsolete since
the beginning of the eighteenth century, but some few still retain it in
the abbreviated form of Nuala.

4. _Graine_, now Grace.

5. _Lassarina_, also, though in use not long since, has latterly became
obsolete.

6. _Meadhbh_, pronounced Meave. This is still preserved and anglicised
Maud, Mab, and Mabby; and the writer is acquainted with several old
women of the Milesian race who still retain it. This was the name of a
celebrated queen of Connaught, who flourished in the first century, and
who is now known in the legends of the mountainous districts of Ireland
as the queen of the fairies. From this country her spirit found way into
Scotland, and thence into the north of England, where Shakspeare met
with her, but in rather too diminutive a form for the shade of the Irish
heroine.

7. _Mor_, pronounced More. The writer believes that there are a few women
of this name still living in Ireland; but he is confident that there are
but very few, though it was the name of many honourable ladies in the
reign of Queen Elizabeth, and for a century later. In our own times,
however, it has been almost invariably anglicised Mary, with which it is
neither synonymous nor cognate.

8. _Sadhbh_, pronounced Soyv, is the name of several women of the old
Irish races, and who are known to the writer. It is now almost invariably
anglicised Sally, to which it bears no analogy.

9. _Sorcha_ is still the name of several women in Ireland, especially in
the province of Ulster; but the rising generation are beginning to object
to it as being too Irish, and are determined on having it changed to
Sarah or Sally. The writer is acquainted with families in whom this name
is hereditary, and among whom the mother is always called Sorcha, and the
daughter Sally; and though the latter knows that her own and her mother’s
name are the same, still would she blush to hear her own name pronounced
_Sorcha_. The name Sorcha signifies clear, bright, and might be well
rendered Lucy or _Lucinda_; but we should like to see it preserved in
its primitive form, which is not to be despised either for its sound or
signification.

10. _Una._ This name is still in constant use among the women of Ireland,
but when speaking English, they invariably anglicise it to Winifred or
Winny.

The writer is not aware that any other name which was in use in the
ancient Irish time is now retained, except the foregoing.

The names Catherine, Evlin, Eleanor, Isabella, Mary, Honora, Sheela
(Celia), and many others now in use, and supposed to be of Irish origin,
do not occur in the Account of Remarkable Women above referred to, and
there is no reason to believe that they were ever in use in ancient
Ireland.

The following is a list of curious names of women which occur in the
authentic annals and in the History of Remarkable Women. It is highly
probable that a few of them are of Danish origin:--

1. Aevin, _i. e._ Amoena; 2, Africa; 3, Albi and Albin; 4, Allin; 5,
Alma, all good; 6, Alphin; 7, Athracta. This name has been restored by
the Mac Dermott of Coolavin. 8, Barduv, blackhaired; 9, Bebail, woman of
prosperity; 10, Bebin, melodious woman; 11, Blanaid, Florinda, from blath,
a blossom; 12, Brigh, vigour; 13, Cacht, bondmaid; 14, Cailleach-De,
_i. e._ female servant of God; 15, Cailleach-Kevin, the female servant
of St Kevin; 16, Cailleach-Aengus, the female servant of St Aengus; 17,
Caintigern, fair lady; 18, Keara, the ruddy; 19, Cochrand; 20, Covfla,
_i. e._ Victoria; 21, Coca; 22, Corcar, the ruddy; 23, Crea; 24, Devnet;
25, Derval, the true request; 26, Derforgal, the true pledge, latinized
Dervorgilla; 27, Dianiv and Diniv; 28, Dechter; 29, Derdrè, alarm; 30,
Dorenn, the sullen; 31, Duv-Covfla, victoria nigra; 32, Duvessa, nigra
nutrix; 33, Dunsa, the brown-haired; 34, Dunlah, lady of the fort; 35,
Edwina; 36, Eithné; 37, Elbrigh; 38, Emeria; 39, Eri; 40, Essa, nutrix;
41, Euginia, female of Eogan; 42, Fedilmi, the over-good; 43, Finbil,
the white blossom; 44, Findelv, fair countenance; 45, Finnavor, of the
fair eye-lids; 46, Finni, the comely; 47, Finscoh, the fair flower; 48,
Findah, the fair colour; 49, Flanna, the ruddy; 50, Gelgés, swan-white;
51, Gemlorg, gem-like; 52, Gnahat; 53, Gobnet, female of Gobban; 54,
Gormlah, the blue lady; 55, Ida, the just; 56, Lann; 57, Lasser, a flame;
58, Lasserina, flame or blush of the wine; 59, Lerthan; 60, Lithan; 61,
Luanmasi, beautiful as the moon; 62, Ligach, pearly, or like a precious
stone; 63, Maelmaiden, servant of the morning; 64, Mongfin, of the fair
hair; 65, Moncha, the same as Monica; 66, Murgel, the fair one of the
sea; 67, Murrin, crinita, or of the long hair; 68, Neave, effulgence;
69, Orlah, or Orflah, the golden lady; 70, Ranalt, female of Randal;
71, Ronat, female of Ronan; 72, Saraid, the excellent; quere, the
same as Sarah? 73, Selvlah, lady of possessions; 74, Shimah, the good
tranquillity; 75, Sodelva, of the goodly aspect; 76, So-Domina, the good
lady; 77, Temar, the conspicuous; 78, Talilah, quere Dalilah? 79, Tindi,
the tender; 80, Tressi, strength; 81, Tualah, the noble lady; 82, Uailsi,
the proud; 83, Uaisli, the gentle; 84, Uallach, the proud; 85, Uchdelva,
of the fair breast; 86, Unchi, the contentious.

We have now seen the process by which the Irish people have assimilated
their names and surnames to those of the English, and the reasons which
have led them to do so. I would not so much regret their having done so,
if I were not aware that some of the families who have thus anglicised
their names wish to conceal their Irish origin, as if they were ashamed
of their ancestors and country, and that another result of these changes
must soon be, that statistical writers will be apt to infer from the
small number of ancient Irish surnames retained in Ireland, that all the
old Irish race were supplanted by the English.

I shall close these notices of the surnames of the Irish people by a
remark which I should wish to be universally believed, namely--That no
ancient Irish surname is perfect unless it has either O or Mac prefixed,
excepting in those instances where the soubriquet or cognomen of the
ancestor is used as the surname, as Cavanagh, &c., and, accordingly, that
nine-tenths of the surnames at present borne by the Irish people are
incorrect, as being mere mutilations of their original forms.

    “Per Mac atque O, tu veros cognoscis Hibernos
    His duobus demptis, nullus Hibernus adest:
              By Mac and O
              You’ll surely know
                True Irishmen alway;
              But if they lack
              Both O and Mac,
                No Irishmen are they.”

The truth of this well-known distich may now be questioned, though it was
correct a few centuries since.

It is but natural to suppose that a conquered people should look upon
themselves as inferior to their conquerors; and this rage for adopting
English surnames which prevails at present, is, in the opinion of the
writer, a clear proof of the prevalence of this feeling, that the Irish
consider themselves inferior to the English. Spenser, while he advises
that the Irish be compelled to reject their O’s and Macs, and to adopt
English surnames, dissuades his own countrymen from adopting Irish ones,
as some of them had done, in the following words, which the writer, being
as Irish as Spenser was English, now adopts as his own:--“Is it possible
that any should so farre growe out of frame, that they should in so short
space, quite forget their countrey and their own names! that is a most
dangerous lethargie, much worse than that of Messala Corvinus, who being
a most learned man, thorough sickness forgat his own name.”--_State of
Ireland, Dub. ed. p. 107._

And again:--

“Could they ever conceive any such dislike of their own natural countreys
as that they would _be ashamed of their name_, and byte at the dugge from
which they sucked life?”--_Ibid, p. 108._




THE ICHNEUMON.


Of this animal many very absurd stories have been told, amongst which
not the least ridiculous is, that it watches its opportunity when the
huge crocodile of the Nile slumbers upon the river bank, and, artfully
inducing the monster to yawn by tickling his nostril with its tail,
rushes fearlessly and with wondrous agility between the terrible jaws
and their formidable rows of teeth, and, forcing its daring way down its
throat, retains possession of its strange citadel until it has destroyed
its unwieldy victim, when it gnaws its way out, and leaves the carcase
to wither in the sun. Other travellers have pretended to contradict the
above story, but their mode of doing so involves a piece of absurdity no
less glaring than the equally unfounded legend they assume to themselves
the merit of correcting; for by their account the Ichneumon does not
enter the throat of the crocodile with a hostile intent at all, neither
does it use its tail to cause that creature to open its jaws, for of that
is there no need, seeing that the crocodile opens them of his own will,
and likewise with pleasure allows the Ichneumon to enter for the purpose
of clearing his throat of swarms of tormenting insects which lodge
therein, and by their stinging produce intolerable pain. I can however
assure my readers that this subject has been, since the above conflicting
statements reached us, effectually cleared up; and you may confidently
rely upon it that the Ichneumon no more enters the crocodile’s mouth
whether as a friend or as an enemy, whether to destroy him or destroy his
tormentors the flies, than that he attacks him while awake.

The Ichneumon is shaped somewhat like a ferret, but is rather more
slender in its form, and its head is likewise longer and narrower; it
is also an animal of far greater activity and lightness of movement,
being able to clear at one spring a distance of a couple of yards. It
is further a most expert climber, and it will be a very high wall indeed
that will confine it within an enclosure. The colour of the Ichneumon is
a brownish grey, or a light brown barred with white; the animal indeed
appears speckled with a dirty white, but it is so only in appearance,
the fact being, that each several hair has brown and white rings upon
it. Upon the back, sides, and tail, these rings are small, and the hair
longer than upon the head and extremities of its limbs; hence these
latter parts appear of a darker hue. The hair upon the feet is very short
and thin, and they are nearly as naked as those of the common rat. The
tail of the Ichneumon is very long, usually one-sixth longer than its
body, and upon its extremity is a tuft of very long black hair. The hair
of this creature is drier, thicker, and weaker, than in any other member
of the same genus.

The length of a full-grown Ichneumon, from the tip of the nose to the end
of the tail, is about two feet six inches, of which the tail occupies
about sixteen inches, and the body fourteen. The length of the head is
about three inches, measuring from the back of the ears to the point of
the muzzle. The height of the Ichneumon at the most elevated part of the
back is about six inches; but this of course varies according to the
animal’s position at the time of measurement.

The habits of the Ichneumon present a sort of admixture of those of the
ferret and the cat; like the former, it delights in blood, and where
it has once fastened itself, maintains a tenacious hold; but like the
latter, and unlike the former, it has but little stomach for braving
danger, and will rather go without its dinner than run the chance of a
battle in obtaining it. He is strictly a nocturnal animal, and usually
remains in his covert until the shades of evening begin to fall around,
when he sallies forth on his career of havoc and blood. Were it not
necessary for the satisfying of his appetite, I doubt whether he would
leave his haunt at all, so timid is he: he steals along the ground with
light and cautious steps, his motions resembling the gliding of the
snake rather than the progressive steps of the quadruped. His sharp,
vigilant, sparkling black eyes are anxiously reconnoitring every side of
him, and carefully examining the character and bearings of every object
which meets his view; stealthily he creeps along until he comes upon
the spot where the crocodile has hidden her eggs in the sand; nimbly
and cleverly he pounces upon them, guided to their place of concealment
by his exquisite sense of smell, and, biting a hole in their side,
banquets on their contents. It is thus that the Ichneumon thins the
numbers of that formidable reptile the crocodile, not by directing its
attacks against that creature himself, but by insidiously searching
after and destroying his embryo offspring. The Ichneumon likewise kills
and devours with extreme greediness such small snakes and lizards as
are common in its native country, many of which are highly dangerous,
and all annoying enough to make their destruction desirable, to which
the Ichneumon appears guided by a powerful instinct. It is sometimes
bitten in these encounters, when it is said immediately to search for and
devour the root of a certain plant, said to be an antidote against the
bite of the most venomous reptile. It is alleged that this little animal
will frequently kill even the Cobra di Capello. Lucan in his Pharsalia
describes the manner in which it contrives to destroy the Asp, one of the
most poisonous serpents in existence. The passage I refer to has been
translated thus:--

    Thus oft, the Ichneumon on the banks of Nile
    Invades the deadly Aspic by a wile;
    While artfully his slender tail is play’d,
    The serpent darts upon the dancing shade.
    Then turning on the foe with swift surprise,
    Full on the throat the nimble seizer flies.
    The gasping snake expires beneath the wound,
    His gushing jaws with poisonous floods abound,
    And shed the fruitless mischief on the ground.

In consequence of the vigilance and success of this little animal in
destroying these noxious creatures, he was held in great veneration by
the Egyptians and Hindoos; but by the former he was actually regarded as
a disguised divinity, clothed in that form for the purpose of putting
his benevolent purposes into practice with the greater readiness; and
we accordingly find him occupying a prominent position in the sacred
symbols of that people, who were indeed commonly in the habit of deifying
whatever afforded them peculiar benefit of any kind, as they likewise
adored the river Nile, on account of the fertilizing effect produced by
its periodical inundations.

The Ichneumon is said, if taken young, to be capable of perfect
domestication, to form a strong attachment to the person who reared him,
as well as to the house he inhabits; whence from his zeal and activity
in the destruction of rats and mice, he forms a valuable substitute for
the cat, which indeed he is in Egypt used instead of. He is also said to
be very domestic in his habits, quite a tarry-at-home kind of gentleman,
and, unlike puss, never on any account given to ramble; when lost, he is
said to seek his patron with indefatigable zeal until he finds him, and
to express his joy at rejoining him by the most tender and affectionate
caresses. When he eats, however, nature asserts her prerogative, and the
natural disposition of the animal resumes its place, whence it had for a
time been driven by artificial means.

Indeed it requires but little to awaken in this creature all its natural
fierceness and love of slaughter, notwithstanding that so much has been
said and written of its amiability and docility. Mr D’Obsonville, in his
“Essay on the Nature of Animals,” gives an account of a domesticated
individual which he had in his possession, which places its disposition
in a correct point of view. He got the animal very young, and fed it
upon milk, and as it grew older, upon baked meat, mixed with rice. He
states that it soon became even tamer than a cat, would come to his
call, and if at liberty, follow him everywhere, even in his walks. One
day Mr D’Obsonville brought him a small living water-serpent, curious to
ascertain how far his instinct would carry him against a creature with
which he had been hitherto totally unacquainted. “His emotion,” says Mr
D’Obsonville, “seemed at first to be that of astonishment mixed with
anger, for his hair became erect; but in an instant after, he slipped
behind the reptile, and with remarkable swiftness and agility leaped upon
its head, seized it, and crushed it between his teeth. This essay and
new aliment seemed to have awakened in him his innate and destructive
voracity, which till then had given way to the gentleness he had acquired
from his education. I had about my house several curious kinds of fowls,
among which he had been brought up, and which till then he had suffered
to go and come unmolested and unregarded; but a few days after, when he
found himself alone, he strangled them every one, ate a little, and, as
it appeared, drank the blood of two.”

I have already stated that the Ichneumon is said to eat of the leaves or
root of a certain plant in the event of his being bitten by a poisonous
serpent. I revert to the circumstance, because it is an extraordinary
one, inasmuch as the Indians follow the example of the animal, and use
the same plant successfully as an antidote when they themselves happen
to get a bite, and call the plant after the animal. This is curious,
as being parallel with the case of the Guacomithy or Serpent Hawk of
South America, mentioned in one of my papers on Serpent Charming; nor
is it upon light authority that I relate this fact of the Ichneumon. Mr
Percival, that close and scrupulous observer, saw the experiment tried
of presenting a snake to the animal in a closed room, when, instead of
attacking, it did all in its power to avoid it. On the snake, however,
being carried out of the house, and laid near its antagonist in a
plantation, he immediately darted at and soon destroyed it. The Ichneumon
then retired to a wood, and ate a portion of that plant which is said to
be an antidote to the serpent’s bite, and no harm came to him, although
he had received a bite in the encounter.

I for my part can speak but little for the gentleness of the Ichneumon,
or the facility with which it may be tamed, having one in my own
possession, which has now for a considerable period baffled all my
endeavours to domesticate it, and will not even now suffer me to approach
the case in which it is kept, without growling fiercely at me, and
spitting in the manner of an enraged cat, springing also against the
bars of its prison, and using its utmost endeavours to fly in my face.
I have tried starvation, high feeding, kindness, chastisement, hard
usage, and tenderness, all by turns, and as yet unsuccessfully. I was
never so baffled in taming an animal before, though the polecat, weasel,
fox, and badger, have with the otter successively owned my mastery,
and acknowledged me as their subjugator. I have not even handled this
animal yet, unless with a thick glove upon my hand, and even with that
protection I have received several severe bites. I saw one, however,
in the Royal Zoological Gardens some time ago, which was very tame,
and would suffer itself to be caressed even by strangers; so I shall
persevere; and should I eventually succeed in taming the little savage,
depend upon it the reader shall be advertised of the fact, and of all the
circumstances attendant thereupon.

Until lately the Ichneumon had not a well-determined name in the
methodical catalogues. Naturalists have mostly described it rather by
character than figure. Figures were indeed given by Gesner, Aldrovandi,
and others, but not sufficiently distinct to guard against mistake. Even
Buffon mistook the Mangouste for it, to which he has applied all the
descriptions properly belonging to the Ichneumon. The name “Ichneumon”
is Greek, and is indicative of the habits of the animal, and was first
applied to it by Herodotus.

I trust that the above sketch may serve to point out the animal and its
habits to the reader with sufficient distinctness.

                                                                 H. D. R.

       *       *       *       *       *

MODERN EDUCATION.--“Larning--larning--larning,” is the cry of father an’
mother--if my boy had the “larning,” what a janius he’d be! In coorse,
ye old fools, your _bouchal_ would be a swan among the goslins; but it
isn’t “larning” half the world want: instead of “larning,” by which they
mean cobwebs picked out of dead men’s brains, if they would get some
discipline. Discipline--discipline--discipline, that’s the only education
I ever saw that brought a boy to any good. What’s the use of battering a
man’s brains full of Greek and Latin pothooks, that he forgets before he
doffs his last round jacket, to put on his first long-tailed blue, if ye
don’t teach him the old Spartan virtue of obedience, hard living, early
rising, and them sort of classics? Where’s the use of instructing him in
hexameters and pentameters, if you leave him ignorant of the value of a
penny piece? What height of bletherin’ stupidity it is to be fillin’ a
boy’s brains with the wisdom of the ancients, and then turn him out like
an _omadhaun_ to pick up his victuals among the moderns!--_Blackwood’s
Magazine._




TO OUR READERS.


It becomes our duty to acquaint our readers that the present Number of
the IRISH PENNY JOURNAL, which will complete a volume, will also be the
last presented to them, at least by its original projectors and prevent
proprietors. Our readers will hardly deem it necessary that we should
trouble them with any detail of the circumstances which have led to this
determination; it will be sufficient to state, that while the success
of the work has in some respects even exceeded the anticipations of its
proprietors, it has disappointed them in others. The sale of the Journal,
although great and steadily progressing in those distant localities
where any increase of sale was least to be expected, has been either
stationary or diminishing in those portions of the kingdom for whose use
and advantage it was especially intended, and to which, therefore, the
proprietors naturally looked for the greatest degree of encouragement.
However humbling it may be to the national feeling of most of our Irish
readers, the fact must be acknowledged, that the sale of the Journal in
London alone has exceeded that in the four provinces of Ireland, not
including Dublin; and that in other cities at the other side of the
Channel it has been nearly equal to half the Irish provincial sale.
And it may be added that in London, as well as in most other cities
in the sister island, the sale has to the present moment continued to
increase, while in all parts of Ireland, with the exception of the
metropolis, it has gradually declined. In short, nearly two-thirds of
the amount of sales of the IRISH PENNY JOURNAL have been effected out
of Ireland. Whatever may be the cause of this result, it is sufficient
for the proprietors to have ascertained, that the object which they had
originally in view in starting this little publication, have not been
attained to the extent which they had anticipated, and that, under such
circumstances, it would be visionary in them further to indulge hopes
which there is so little probability of ever being realised.

The proprietors have only therefore to take a respectful leave of
their numerous readers and supporters, and return their grateful
acknowledgments to all who have taken an interest in their publication.
To the Press of the British Empire such an expression of gratitude is
especially due, for from those influential organs of public opinion it
has received during its progress the most cheering encouragement, and
this, too, wholly unmingled with even a portion of censure or dispraise.
That such commendations have not been altogether undeserved, and that the
promises made in the original prospectus have not been left unfulfilled,
the proprietors fondly anticipate will be the permanent opinion of
the public; and they indulge, moreover, the pleasing conviction, that
the volume now brought to a termination will live in the literature
of Ireland as one almost exclusively Irish, and possessing what may
be considered as no trifling distinction for such a work--a spirit
throughout its pages wholly national, and untinctured by the slightest
admixture of prejudices either political or sectarian.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Printed and published every Saturday by GUNN and CAMERON, at
    the Office of the General Advertiser, No. 6, Church Lane,
    College Green, Dublin.--Agents:--R. GROOMBRIDGE, Panyer Alley,
    Paternoster Row, London; SIMMS and DINHAM, Exchange Street,
    Manchester; C. DAVIES, North John Street, Liverpool, JOHN
    MENZIES, Prince’s Street, Edinburgh; and DAVID ROBERTSON,
    Trongate, Glasgow.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No.
52, June 26, 1841, by Various

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