bear hesitates, and seems unwilling to come out; but continuing to be molested by the hunter, and perhaps by the barking of his dog, he at length gets up, and rushes in fury from his cavern. The moment he sees the peasant, he rears himself upon his two hind legs, ready to tear him to pieces. The Finlander instantly brings back the iron lance close to his breast, concealing from the bear the length of the pole, in order that he may not be upon his guard, and consequently to parry with his paws the mortal blow which the hunter means to aim at his vitals. The Finlander then advances boldly towards the bear, nor does he strike the blow till they are so near each other, that the animal stretches out his paws, to tear his antagonist limb from limb. At that instant, the peasant pierces his heart with the lance, which, but for the cross bar, would come out at his shoulder; nor could he otherwise prevent the bear falling upon him, an accident which might be highly dangerous. By means of the cross bar, the animal is kept upright, and ultimately thrown upon his back; but what may seem to some very extraordinary, is, the bear, feeling himself wounded, instead of attempting with his paws to pull out the lance, holds it fast, and presses it more deeply into the wound. When the bear, after rolling upon the snow, ceases from the last struggles of death, the Finlander lays hold of him, and calls for the assistance of his friends, who drag the carcase to his hut; and this triumph terminates in a sort of festival, where the poet assists, and sings the exploits of the hunter."

"Their method of catching fish in winter is in the following manner:-A couple of openings are made in the ice, and by means of ropes and long poles, they then contrive to pass their nets from one opening to the other; the drawing

out of the nets is attended with infinite labour. They have another method of fifthing on the ice, which seemed extremely novel and curious: it is in catching fish by the stroke of a mallet or club. In autumn, when the frost begins to set in, the fisherman courses along the rivers, and when he observes a fish under the ice in shallow water, he takes a violent blow with his wooden mallet perpendicularly over the fish, so as to break the ice. The fish, stupified by the blow communicated to it by the water, in a few seconds rises quite giddy to the surface, where the man seizes it with an instrument made for the purpose.

RIGHT HON. T. CONNOLLY's Strict Adherence to his word of Honour.

HE above gentleman, one of the

and brother-in-law to the Duke of Richmond, some years ago, sitting alone in an apartment in his house in Dublin, a very genteel sharper having gained admittance, presented his pistols, and demanded Mr. Connolly's purse. The latter, seeing no alternative, immediately delivered it; when the thief, telling him that he had one more demand to make, which was, that he should give him his honour, neither to speak to any person, nor move from where he then sat, for half an hour. This Mr. C. agreeing to, the robber had not been long gone, before one of the family entered the apartment, who, upon asking a question, was justly surprized to see Mr. C. shake his head, and point to his watch; and which he continued to do to every interrogation, till the half hour was expired, when he exclaimed, "I have been robbed!" The fellow, however, had so well availed himself of the time given, that all inquiry after him was fruitless.

THE

Enter DULCET, singing "A master I have," &c.

What is the reason I must ring for you so often?

Dul. I'm sorry for it-I'm sure, Sir, I never wish to hear you ring, it's such discord.

Sir W. P. And confound your concord-here take away the things. Dul. (Approaching the table, takes up the bell and begins to sing, ringing to the tune of)" Merry are the bells and merry do they ring.'

you'll let me. (hums a tune and beats time with his foot.)

Sir W. P. Be quiet, fellow! Isn't it very hard I must be tormented every day with your abominable sounds? In the morning you begin with what you call-" Good morrow to your night cap."

Dul." On two legs rid," &c. (singing.)

Sir W.P. Ouns! be quiet.-Then at night you play on the table your damn'd confounded noise of "Go to bed Tom."

Dul. Oh, Sir, every child can play that. (playing on the table.)

Sir W. P. Ouns! he'll break all the things-be quiet! how dare you make this noise in my ear?

Dul. Your ear! lord, Sir, you have no ear!-You don't know Morgan Rattler," from "My lodging is on the cold ground."

66

Sir W. P. If you don't hold your tongue, and take away the things, damme I'll knock you down, and then your lodging will be on the cold ground.

Dul. "And hard, very hard be my fate." [Exit with breakfast things.

Sir W. P. (solus.) I must part with him immediately!-he has smash'd I don't know how many china plates with playing the cymbals-all my tumblers with imitating the musical glasses, and crack'd a most beautiful tea-board with practising the tambourine.-If at the street door, he is playing with the knocker; and if I call for a knife and fork at dinner, I must wait till he has finish'd a tune with them.

Re-enter DULCET. Zounds! what brings you here again?

Dul. A letter, Sir, that's all. (gives him a letter.) Well, since I must not whistle or play, I'll entertain myself with my ballads. (aside, and tukes out a bundle of ballads.}

B

Sir W. P.

Dul. "The Charming Fellow." Sir W. P. Curse your charming fellow! what is he?

Dul. The Waggoner."

Sir W. P. Waggoner-Oh, then it comes from the country. Did he say any thing when he gave it to you?

Dul. "Ge ho! Dobbin."

Sir W. P. Pshaw, he was speaking to his horses then, and not to you. Let me see, (opens the letter and reads.) "An unknown friend thinks proper to apprize Sir Wilful Positive of the unfortunate malady which has happen'd to Mr. Beverley, during his tour abroad: the unhappy gentleman has been much deranged in his mind, and at intervals is quite outrageous."-Oh Lord! I shall be afraid to sit in his company.- "It is supposed by his physicians, that he was bit by a tarantula, as he finds great relief in lively music." Plague on it-I can give him no lively music." If your ward will constantly read and sing to him, he may, notwithstanding, make an agreeable husband." Ouns! Lydia must not know of this misfortune, nor my sister-inlaw, for she'd tell all the world.Well, who in the name of wonder could have written this letter?

Dul. (still looking over and reading the titles of his ballads.) " Peggy Perkins."

Sir W. P. Peggy Perkins! who is she?

Dul. "The lass of Richmond Hill."

Sir. W. P. Richmond Hill! and when did she give it to the waggoner?

Dul. "In the dead of the night."
Sir W. P. Eh, damn the fellow!

he's reading his curs'd ballads. There's a knock at the door-see who it is. Well, Sir, why don't you run?-Ouns, Sirrah, you should be as brisk as a lamplighter!

Dul. The lamplighter! Oh, you mean Jolly Dick; yes, Sir-" Father and I the world delights," &c. [Exit singing.

Sir W. P. Silence, Sirrah-Poor Beverley! aye, this accounts for his not having call'd on me since his return. I wish I had been acquainted with him before he went abroad, then I should have known his disposition, and

Re-enter DULCET. Dul. One Patrick Casey would be glad to speak to you, Sir.

Sir W. P. Patrick Casey! the scoundrel, have not I discharg'd him-he was paid his wages, and what does he want?

Dul. Ican't tell, Sir—I ask'd him if he knew "Corporal Casey," and he said he was his cousin in Kilkenny, and that he himself is the Tipperary Adonis.

Sir W. P. Pshaw! tell the fellow I am busy-where did you leave him?

Dul. (looking at his ballads, and not minding him.) "Encompass'd in an angel's frame."

Sir W. P. What! are he and Patty together? Oh the villian! but damn it, he's here.

Enter PATRICK CASEY. P. Cas. Your servant, Sir.-I knew the way up very well; what kind of a humour is he in, the old tune I suppose? (apart to DULCET.)

Dul. Old tune, he has not one, old or new.

P. Cas. Oh, I see how it is; that blessed countenance of his is a map of crossways.-Faith I never saw him yet, that he was not pleased→→ to be angry.

Sir W. P.

Sir W. P. Well, Sir, what do you want? Eh, to slip a love letter, I dare say!

P. Cas. There's for you. By my soul the old gentleman reads love in my face, ha! ha! he!No, your Honour, I came at present upon business to yourself. I have been looking after a place, do you see, and I think I have found one, if I have not lost it. There's a young maiden lady, of about seventy-five, wants a stout, good looking, experienced young man, and I have offered my services-so, if she should chance to call for my character, why your Honour knows what to say.

Sir W. P. Indeed I do--I'll give her your true character.

P.Cas. Thank your Honour, that's all the maiden-lady wants. I told her ladyship that I was the Tipperary Adonis, and the cause of my leaving you, was that you had nothing at all for me to do; and so I thought it best to give up your business entirely.

Sir W. P. Oh, but I shall tell her another story; she shall know that I had a great deal to do, but that you did nothing; that when ever I sent you to my ward's, you were always loitering away your time with Patty.

P. Cas. That will do-it will convince her of my attention to the ladies-then she'll ask me who Mrs. Patty is, and I'll tell her she is your beautiful ward's beautiful chambermaid; and to be sure, as the voice of a beautiful girl always tickles the ear of an Irish heart, why I used to stop two or three hours extraordinary to listen to her beautiful music. Dul. Music! lord, can Patty

play?

P. Cas. Play! faith she's as full of tricks as a little kitten in a basket of chips.—

Dul. But does she understand music? can she sing?

Sir W. P. Sing! pshaw! no, she can't! damn this fellow! he'll corrupt my new servant.

P. Cas. No! she can't!-Faith the drone of a bagpipe is not more sweet than her sweet natural tones. Dul. Can you play upon the bagpipes?

Sir W. P. Curse your bagpipes! Dulcet, look for my snuff-boxlook for my snuff-box, I tell you.→ Dul. Here's the Tobacco-box, Sir. (offering a ballad.)

Sir W. P. Damnation! this fellow is always plaguing me with his ballads

Dul. (to P. Cas.) Can you play the Irish Wake and Molly Astore?

P. Cas. Molly Astore! that I can-Lango lee-Ally Croakerthe Proker-the Pig under the Pot and all the sweet planxties put

together.

Dul. Put together! oh, that's a medley.

Sir W. P. Ouns! I shall never be able to part these fellows. Sir, you sha'nt stay any longer here, I'll turn you out.

P. Cas. Turn me out!-Ah ha! I smoke you that's because your ward is come home, and you are afraid that she may take a peep at the Tipperary Adonis.

Sir W. P. Why, you impudent dog, do you think my ward would look at that damn'd ugly face?

P. Cas. Ugly face? Come, that's very pretty! say that again, and by the powers, all the girls in the parish will be up with their arms against you.

Dul. I say, could your cousin

sing?

P. Cas. Sing! faith it was he taught me to sing.—

Sir W. P. Damnation! leave my house, Sir.-Dulcet, see that my carriage is ready.—

P. Cas. Oh, don't mind your carriage, your Honour, I can walk home. B 2 I humbly

I humbly thank you all the same. Well, you'll give a fine character of me, I suppose.

Sir W. P. Fine! I'll give the character you deserve.

P. Cas. Thank your Honour, that will do. Now I'll go home and sing, "Oh be joyful.' [Exit. Dul. Oh be joyful! I never heard that song in all my life.-Oh, I must go and hear him. (going.) Sir W. P. Stay where you are -I'll see him out, and shut the street door myself.

Dul. But, Sir, I never heard that song-I must go and hear him-indeed, Sir

Sir W. P. Hullo-stop- [Dulcet runs off, Sir W. P. following him.

PART OF THE LAST ACT.

SIR WILFUL POSITIVE AND

SIDNEY.

Enter DULCET, with wine and glasses.

Dul. Here's the wine, Sir, (fills out the rvine, singing) "Flow thou regal purple stream."

Sir W. P. Be quiet, Dulcet.Your physicians allow you wine, Sir, I presume?

Sid. Physicians!-Oh, Sir, I am my own physician, I assure you. (drinking.) I should have call'd long before this, Sir Wilful, but a misfortune happened - (drawing his chair nearer, while SIR WILFUL is moving his farther.)

Sir W. P. Misfortune! pray don't think of your misfortune, Sir-don't I beg of you. I want no apologyindeed I don't. Come, we must drive away care.

Dul. (singing.). (< Begone dull

care".

Sir W. P. Silence, you scoundrel. Dul. (speaking.). "You and I shall never agree."

Sir W. P. No indeed, we never shall-fill out some wine.

Dul. (singing.)" A bumper, &c.' Sir W. P. Silence, Sirrah.-You had a good passage I hope, Mr. Beverley?

Sid. Tolerable, Sir Wilful-we had some stormy weather.

Dul. (singing very loud.) "The stormy winds do blow-"

Sir W. P. Be quiet, Dulcet! Zounds! you don't know what mischief you may do now.-I assure you, Mr. Beverley, I was very anxious-(an organ is heard, DULCET drops the waiter with the glasses, &c. runs to the window and dances.) There! the damn'd scoundrel has startled the gentleman!-Pray, Sir, be composed-for heav'n's sake, Sir-(funning SIDNEY.) He is a poor whimsical fool, and fond of an organ-I hope he did not alarm you much come from the window, Dulcet, and let the gentleman have a little air.

Dul. Yes, Sir. (bawling to the organist out of window.) Hullo!-you are to play a little air for the gentleman-master says he'll throw you out half a crown—(running up to SIDNEY.) Sir! Sir! will you have "When pensive I thought on my love?"

Sir W. P. Damnation! don't make the gentleman more pensive than he really is!-come, sing for him, play upon the table, beat the drum, sound the trumpet, blow the French-horn, do any thing-make haste-where are your ballads?

Dul. Oh, here, Sir, here-herewhat do you like, Sir? here's Crazy Jane." (offering SIDNEY a ballad.)

Sir W. P. No, nothing that's crazy.

Dul. And here's "Mad Tom." Sir W. P. Ouns, if you talk of madmen I'll knock you down.

Dul. Well, Sir, I won't-here's "Polly's complaint in Bedlam."

Sir. W.P.